The Field Of The Cloth Of Gold


It was the day fixed for the opening of the most brilliant pageant known

to modern history. On the green space in front of the dilapidated castle

of Guisnes, on the soil of France, but within what was known as the

English pale, stood a summer palace of the amplest proportions and the

most gorgeous decorations, which was furnished within with all that

comfort demanded and art and luxury could provide. Let us briefly

des
ribe this magnificent palace, which had been prepared for the

temporary residence of the English king.



The building was of wood, square in shape, each side being three hundred

and twenty-eight feet long. On every side were oriel-windows and

curiously glazed clerestories, whose mullions and posts were overlaid

with gold. In front of the grand entrance stood an embattled gate-way,

having on each side statues of warriors in martial attitudes. From the

gate to the palace sloped upward a long passage, flanked with images in

bright armor and presenting "sore and terrible countenances." This led

to an embowered landing-place, where, facing the great doors, stood

antique figures girt with olive-branches.



Interiorly the palace halls and chambers were superbly decorated, white

silk forming the ceilings of the passages and galleries, from which

depended silken hangings of various colors and braided cloths, "which

showed like bullions of fine braided gold." Roses set in lozenges, on a

golden ground-work, formed the chamber ceilings. The wall spaces were

decorated with richly carved and gilt panels, while embroidered silk

tapestry hung from the windows and formed the walls of the corridors. In

the state apartments the furniture was of princely richness, the whole

domains of art and industry having been ransacked to provide their most

splendid belongings. Exteriorly the building presented an equally ornate

appearance, glass, gold-work, and ornamental hangings quite concealing

the carpentry, so that "every quarter of it, even the least, was a

habitation fit for a prince."



To what end, in the now far-away year of 1520, and in that rural

locality, under the shadows of a castle which had fallen into

irredeemable ruin, had such an edifice been built,--one which only the

revenues of a kingdom, in that day, could have erected? Its purpose was

a worthy one. France and England, whose intercourse for centuries had

been one of war, were now to meet in peace. Crecy and Agincourt had been

the last meeting-places of the monarchs of these kingdoms, and death and

ruin had followed their encounters. Now Henry the Eighth of England and

Francis the First of France were to meet in peace and amity, spending

the revenues of their kingdoms not for armor of linked mail and

death-dealing weapons, but for splendid attire and richest pageantry, in

token of friendship and fraternity between the two realms.



A century had greatly changed the relations of England and France. In

1420 Henry V. had recently won the great victory of Agincourt, and

France lay almost prostrate at his feet. In 1520 the English possessions

in France were confined to the seaport of Calais and a small district

around it known as the "English pale." The castle of Guisnes stood just

within the English border, the meeting between the two monarchs being

fixed at the line of separation of the two kingdoms.



The palace we have described, erected for the habitation of King Henry

and his suite, had been designed and ordered by Cardinal Wolsey, to

whose skill in pageantry the management of this great festival had been

consigned. Extensive were the preparations alike in England and in

France. All that the island kingdom could furnish of splendor and riches

was provided, not alone for the adornment of the king and his guard, but

for the host of nobles and the multitude of persons of minor estate, who

came in his train, the whole following of the king being nearly four

thousand persons, while more than a thousand formed the escort of the

queen. For the use of this great company had been brought nearly four

thousand richly-caparisoned horses, with vast quantities of the other

essentials of human comfort and regal display.



While England had been thus busy in preparing for the pageant, France

had been no less active. Arde, a town near the English pale, had been

selected as the dwelling-place of Francis and his train. As for the

splendor of adornment of those who followed him, there seems to have

been almost nothing worn but silks, velvets, cloth of gold and silver,

jewels and precious stones, such being the costliness of the display

that a writer who saw it humorously says, "Many of the nobles carried

their castles, woods, and farms upon their backs."



Magnificent as was the palace built for Henry and his train, the

arrangements for the French king and his train were still more imposing.

The artistic taste of the French was contrasted with the English love

for solid grandeur. Francis had proposed that both parties should lodge



in tents erected on the field, and in pursuance of this idea there had

been prepared "numerous pavilions, fitted up with halls, galleries, and

chambers ornamented within and without with gold and silver tissue.

Amidst golden balls and quaint devices glittering in the sun, rose a

gilt figure of St. Michael, conspicuous for his blue mantle powdered

with golden fleurs-de-lis, and crowning a royal pavilion of vast

dimensions supported by a single mast. In his right hand he held a dart,

in his left a shield emblazoned with the arms of France. Inside, the

roof of the pavilion represented the canopy of heaven ornamented with

stars and figures of the zodiac. The lodgings of the queen, of the

Duchess d'Alencon, the king's favorite sister, and of other ladies and

princes of the blood, were covered with cloth of gold. The rest of the

tents, to the number of three or four hundred, emblazoned with the arms

of their owners, were pitched on the banks of a small river outside the

city walls."



No less abundant provision had been made for the residence of the

English visitors. When King Henry looked from the oriel windows of his

fairy palace, he saw before him a scene of the greatest splendor and the

most incessant activity. The green space stretching southward from the

castle was covered with tents of all shapes and sizes, many of them

brilliant with emblazonry, while from their tops floated rich-colored

banners and pennons in profusion. Before each tent stood a sentry, his

lance-point glittering like a jewel in the rays of the June sun. Here

richly-caparisoned horses were prancing, there sumpter mules laden with

supplies, and decorated with ribbons and flowers, made their slow way

onward. Everywhere was movement, everywhere seemed gladness; merriment

ruled supreme, the hilarity being doubtless heightened by frequent

visits to gilded fountains, which spouted forth claret and hypocras into

silver cups from which all might drink. Never had been seen such a

picture in such a place. The splendor of color and decoration of the

tents, the shining armor and gorgeous dresses of knights and nobles, the

brilliancy of the military display, the glittering and gleaming effect

of the pageant as a whole, rendering fitly applicable the name by which

this royal festival has since been known, "The Field of the Cloth of

Gold."



Two leagues separated Arde and Guisnes, two leagues throughout which the

spectacle extended, rich tents and glittering emblazonry occupying the

whole space, the canvas habitations of the two nations meeting at the

dividing-line between England and France. It was a splendid avenue

arranged for the movements of the monarchs of these two great kingdoms.



Such was the scene: what were the ceremonies? They began with a grand

procession, headed by Cardinal Wolsey, who, as representative of the

king of England, made the first move in the game of ostentation. Before

him rode fifty gentlemen, each wearing a great gold chain, while their

horses were richly caparisoned with crimson velvet. His ushers, fifty

other gentlemen, followed, bearing maces of gold which at one end were

as large as a man's head. Next came a dignitary in crimson velvet,

proudly carrying the cardinal's cross of gold, adorned with precious

stones. Four lackeys, attired in cloth of gold and with magnificent

plumed bonnets in their hands, followed. Then came the cardinal himself,

man and horse splendidly equipped, his strong and resolute face full of

the pride and arrogance which marked his character, his bearing that of

almost regal ostentation. After him followed an array of bishops and

other churchmen, while a hundred archers of the king's guard completed

the procession.



Reaching Arde, the cardinal dismounted in front of the royal tent, and,

in the stateliest manner, did homage in his masters name to Francis, who

received him with a courteous display of deference and affection. The

next day the representatives of France returned this visit, with equal

pomp and parade, and with as kindly a reception from Henry, while the

English nobles feasted those of France in their lordliest fashion, so

boisterous being their hospitality that they fairly forced their

visitors into their tents.



These ceremonial preliminaries passed, the meeting of the two sovereigns

came next in order. Henry had crossed the channel to greet Francis;

Francis agreed to be the first to cross the frontier to greet him. June

7 was the day fixed. On this day the king of France left his tent amid

the roar of cannon, and, followed by a noble retinue in cloth of gold

and silver, made his way to the frontier, where was set up a gorgeous

pavilion, in whose decorations the heraldries of England and France were

commingled. In this handsome tent the two monarchs were to confer.



About the same time Henry set out, riding a powerful stallion, nobly

caparisoned. At the border-line between English and French territory the

two monarchs halted, facing each other, each still on his own soil. Deep

silence prevailed in the trains, and every eye was fixed on the two

central figures.



They were strongly contrasted. Francis was tall but rather slight in

figure, and of delicate features. Henry was stout of form, and massive

but handsome of face. He had not yet attained those swollen proportions

of face and figure in which history usually depicts him. Their attire

was as splendid as art and fashion could produce. Francis was dressed in

a mantle of cloth of gold, which fell over a jewelled cassock of gold

frieze. He wore a bonnet of ruby velvet enriched with gems, while the

front and sleeves of his mantle were splendid with diamonds, rubies,

emeralds, and "ropes of pearls." He rode a "beautiful horse covered with

goldsmith's work."



Henry was dressed in cloth of silver damask, studded with gems, and

ribbed with gold cloth, while his horse was gay with trappings of gold,

embroidery and mosaic work. Altogether the two men were as splendid in

appearance as gold, silver, jewelry, and the costliest tissues could

make them,--and as different in personal appearance as two men of the

same race could well be.






The occasion was not alone a notable one, it was to some extent a

critical one. For centuries the meetings of French and English kings had

been hostile; could they now be trusted to be peaceful? Might not the

sword of the past be hidden in the olive-branch of the present? Suppose

the lords of France should seize and hold captive the English king, or

the English lords act with like treachery towards the French king, what

years of the out-pouring of blood and treasure might follow!

Apprehensions of such treachery were not wanting. The followers of

Francis looked with doubt on the armed men in Henry's escort. The

English courtiers in like manner viewed with eyes of question the

archers and cavaliers in the train of Francis. Lord Abergavenny ran to

King Henry as he was about to mount for the ride to the French frontier.



"Sire," he said, anxiously, "ye be my lord and sovereign; wherefore,

above all, I am bound to show you the truth and not be let for none. I

have been in the French party, and they be more in number,--double so

many as ye be."



"Sire," answered Lord Shrewsbury, "whatever my lord of Abergavenny

sayeth, I myself have been there, and the Frenchmen be more in fear of

you and your subjects than your subjects be of them. Wherefore, if I

were worthy to give counsel, your grace should march forward."



Bluff King Harry had no thought of doing anything else. The doubt which

shook the souls of some of his followers, did not enter his.



"So we intend, my lord," he briefly answered, and rode forward.



For a moment the two kings remained face to face, gazing upon each other

in silence. Then came a burst of music, and, spurring their horses, they

galloped forward, and in an instant were hand in hand. Three times they

embraced; then, dismounting, they again embraced, and walked arm in arm

towards the pavilion. Brief was the conference within, the constables of

France and England keeping strict ward outside, with swords held at

salute. Not till the monarchs emerged was the restraint broken. Then

Henry and Francis were presented to the dignitaries of the opposite

nation, their escorts fraternized, barrels of wine were broached, and as

the wine-cups were drained the toast, "Good friends, French and

English," was cheerily repeated from both sides. The nobles were

emulated in this by their followers, and the good fellowship of the

meeting was signalized by abundant revelry, night only ending the

merrymaking.



Friday, Saturday, and Sunday passed in exchange of courtesies, and in

preparations for the tournament which was to be the great event of the

occasion. On Sunday afternoon Henry crossed the frontier to do homage to

the queen of France, and Francis offered the same tribute to the English

queen. Henry rode to Arde in a dress that was heavy with gold and

jewels, and was met by the queen and her ladies, whose beauty was

adorned with the richest gems and tissues and the rarest laces that the

wealth and taste of the time could command. The principal event of the

reception was a magnificent dinner, whose service was so rich and its

viands so rare and costly that the chronicler confesses himself unequal

to the task of describing it. Music, song, and dancing filled up the

intervals between the courses, and all went merrily until five o'clock,

when Henry took his leave, entertaining the ladies as he did so with an

exhibition of his horsemanship, he making his steed to "bound and

curvet as valiantly as man could do." On his road home he met Francis,

returning from a like reception by the queen of England. "What cheer?"

asked the two kings as they cordially embraced, with such a show of

amity that one might have supposed them brothers born.



The next day was that set for the opening of the tournament. This was to

be held in a park on the high ground between Arde and Guisnes. On each

side of the enclosed space long galleries, hung with tapestry, were

erected for the spectators, a specially-adorned box being prepared for

the two queens. Triumphal arches marked each entrance to the lists, at

which stood French and English archers on guard. At the foot of the

lists was erected the "tree of noblesse," on which were to be hung the

shields of those about to engage in combat. It bore "the noble thorn

[the sign of Henry] entwined with raspberry" [the sign of Francis];

around its trunk was wound cloth of gold and green damask; its leaves

were formed of green silk, and the fruit that hung from its limb was

made of silver and Venetian gold.



Henry and Francis, each supported by some eighteen of their noblest

subjects, designed to hold the lists against all comers, it being,

however, strictly enjoined that sharp-pointed weapons should not be

used, lest serious accidents, as in times past, might take place.

Various other rules were made, of which we shall only name that which

required the challenger who was worsted in any combat to give "a gold

token to the lady in whose cause the comer fights."



Shall we tell the tale of this show of mimic war? Splendid it was, and,

unlike the tournaments of an older date, harmless. The lists were nine

hundred feet long and three hundred and twenty broad, the galleries

bordering them being magnificent with their hosts of richly-attired

lords and ladies and the vari-colored dresses of the archers and others

of lesser blood. For two days, Monday and Thursday, Henry and Francis

held the lists. In this sport Henry displayed the skill and prowess of a

true warrior. Francis could scarcely wield the swords which his brother

king swept in circles around his head. When he spurred, with couched

lance, upon an antagonist, his ease and grace aroused the plaudits of

the spectators, which became enthusiastic as saddle after saddle was

emptied by the vigor of his thrust.



Next to Henry in strength and prowess was Charles Brandon, Duke of

Suffolk, who vied with the king for the honors of the field. "The king

of England and Suffolk did marvels," says the chronicler. On the days

when the monarchs did not appear in the field lesser knights strove for

the honors of the joust, wrestling-matches helped to amuse the multitude

of spectators, and the antics of mummers wound up the sports of the day.

Only once did Henry and Francis come into friendly contest. This was in

a wrestling-match, from which the French king, to the surprise of the

spectators, carried off the honors. By a clever twist of the wrestler's

art, he managed to throw his burly brother king. Henry's face was red

with the hot Tudor blood when he rose, his temper had been lost in his

fall, and there was anger in the tone in which he demanded a renewal of

the contest. But Francis was too wise to fan a triumph into a quarrel,

and by mild words succeeded in smoothing the frown from Henry's brow.



For some two weeks these entertainments lasted, the genial June sun

shining auspiciously upon the lists. From the galleries shone two minor

luminaries, the queens of England and France, who were always present,

"with their ladies richly dressed in jewels, and with many chariots,

litters, and hackneys covered with cloth of gold and silver, and

emblazoned with their arms." They occupied a glazed gallery hung with

tapestry, where they were often seen in conversation, a pleasure not so

readily enjoyed by their ladies in waiting, most of whom had to do their

talking through the vexatious aid of an interpreter.



During most of the time through which the tournament extended the

distrust of treachery on one side or the other continued. Francis never

entered the English pale unless Henry was on French soil. Henry was

similarly distrustful. Or, rather, the distrust lay in the advisers of

the monarchs, and as the days went on grew somewhat offensive. Francis

was the first to break it, and to show his confidence in the good faith

of his brother monarch. One morning early he crossed the frontier and

entered the palace at Guisnes while Henry was still in bed, or, as some

say, was at breakfast. To the guards at the gate he playfully said,

"Surrender your arms, you are all my prisoners; and now conduct me to my

brother of England." He accosted Henry with the utmost cordiality,

embracing him and saying, in a merry tone,--



"Here you see I am your prisoner."



"My brother," cried Henry, with the wannest pleasure, "you have played

me the most agreeable trick in the world, and have showed me the full

confidence I may place in you. I surrender myself your prisoner from

this moment."



Costly presents passed between the two monarchs, and from that moment

all restraint was at an end. Each rode to see the other when he chose,

their attendants mingled with the same freedom and confidence, and

during the whole time not a quarrel, or even a dispute, arose between

the sons of England and France. In the lists they used spear and sword

with freedom, but out of them they were the warmest of friends.



On Sunday, June 24, the tournament closed with a solemn mass sung by

Wolsey, who was assisted by the ecclesiastics of the two lands. When the

gospels were presented to the two kings to kiss, there was a friendly

contest as to who should precede. And at the Agnus Dei, when the Pax

was presented to the two queens, a like contest arose, which ended in

their kissing each other in lieu of the sacred emblem.



At the close of the services a showy piece of fireworks attracted the

attention of the spectators. "There appeared in the air from Arde a

great artificial salamander or dragon, four fathoms long and full of

fire; many were frightened, thinking it a comet or some monster, as they

could see nothing to which it was attached; it passed right over the

chapel to Guisnes as fast as a footman can go, and as high as a bolt

from a cross-bow." A splendid banquet followed, which concluded the

festivities of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold." The two kings entered

the lists again, but now only to exchange farewells. Henry made his way

to Calais; Francis returned to Abbeyville: the great occasion was at an

end.



What was its result? Amity between the two nations; a century of peace

and friendship? Not so. In a month Henry had secretly allied himself to

Charles the Fifth against Francis of France. In five years was fought

the battle of Pavia, between France and the Emperor Charles, in which

Francis, after showing great valor on the field, was taken prisoner.

"All is lost, except honor," he wrote. Such was the sequel of the "Field

of the Cloth of Gold."



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