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."