Thomas Wolsey was born at Ipswich, probably in March 1471. He was the son of Robert Wolsey and Joan his wife. Contemporary slander, wishing to make his fortunes more remarkable or his presumption more intolerable, represented his father as a man of mean estate, a butcher by trade. However, Robert Wolsey's will shows that he was a man of good position, probably a grazier and wool merchant, with relatives who were also well-to-do. Thomas seems to have been the eldest of his family, and his father's desire was that he should enter the priesthood. He showed quickness in study; so much so that he went to Oxford at the early age of eleven, and became Bachelor of Arts when he was fifteen. His studies do not seem to have led him in the direction of the new learning; he was well versed in the theology of the schools, and is said to have been a devoted adherent to the system of St. Thomas Aquinas. But it was not by the life of a student or the principles of a philosopher that Wolsey rose to eminence. If he learned anything in his University career he learned a knowledge of men and of their motives.

In due course he became a Fellow of Magdalen, and master of the grammar school attached to the College. Soon afterwards, in 1498, he was bursar; and tradition has connected with him the building of the graceful tower which is one of the chief architectural ornaments of Oxford. Unfortunately the tower was finished in the year in which Wolsey became bursar, and all that he can have done was the prosaic duty of paying the bills for its erection. He continued his work of schoolmaster till in 1500 the Marquis of Dorset, whose sons Wolsey had taught, gave him the living of Lymington in Somerset.

So Wolsey abandoned academic life for the quietness of a country living, which, however, did not prove to be entirely free from troubles. For some reason which is not clear, a neighbouring squire, Sir Amyas Paulet, used his power as justice of peace to set Wolsey in the stocks, an affront which Wolsey did not forgive, but in the days of his power punished by confining Sir Amyas to his London house, where he lived for some years in disgrace. If this story be true, it is certainly not to Wolsey's discredit, who can have been moved by nothing but a sense of injustice in thus reviving the remembrance of his own past history. Moreover, Wolsey's character certainly did not suffer at the time, as in 1501 he was made chaplain to Dean, Archbishop of Canterbury. After Dean's death in 1503, his capacity for business was so far established that he was employed by Sir Richard Nanfan, Deputy-Lieutenant of Calais, to help him in the duties of a post which advancing years made somewhat onerous. When Nanfan, a few years afterwards, retired from public life, he recommended Wolsey to the king, and Wolsey entered the royal service as chaplain probably in 1506.

At Court Wolsey allied himself with Richard Fox, Bishop of Winchester, Lord Privy Seal, and at first seems to have acted as one of his secretaries.

Fox was a well-trained and careful official, who had been in Henry VII.'s employment all through his reign. Cold and cautious by nature, Henry VII. had to pick his way through many difficulties, and took no man unreservedly into his confidence. He was his own minister, and chose to be served by men of distinguished position who were content to do his bidding faithfully, and were free from personal ambition. For this purpose ecclesiastics were best adapted, and Henry VII. did much to secularise the Church by throwing the weight of public business into the hands of men like Morton and Fox, whom he rewarded by the highest ecclesiastical offices. In such a school Wolsey was trained as a statesman. He regarded it as natural that the King should choose his ministers for their readiness to serve his purposes, and should reward them by ecclesiastical preferments. The State might gain by such a plan, but the Church undoubtedly lost; and in following the career of Wolsey there is little to remind us of the ecclesiastic, however much we may admire the statesman.

It was well for England that Wolsey was trained in the traditions of the policy of Henry VII., which he never forgot. Henry VII. aimed, in the first place, at securing his throne and restoring quiet and order in his kingdom by developing trade and commerce. For this purpose he strove to turn his foreign neighbours into allies without adventuring into any military enterprises. He did not aspire to make England great, but he tried to make her secure and prosperous. Wolsey gained so much insight into the means which he employed for that end that he never forgot their utility; and though he tried to pass beyond the aim of Henry VII., he preferred to extend rather than abandon the means which Henry VII. had carefully devised. Nor was Wolsey merely a spectator of Henry VII.'s diplomacy; he was soon employed as one of its agents. In the spring of 1508 he was sent to Scotland to keep King James IV. true to his alliance with England, and explain misunderstandings that had arisen. In the autumn of the same year he was sent to Mechlin to win over the powerful minister of Maximilian, the Bishop of Gurk, to a project of marriage between Henry VII. and Maximilian's daughter Margaret, by which Henry hoped that he would get control of the Low Countries. Here Wolsey learned his first practical lesson of diplomatic methods, and uttered the complaint, which in later years he gave so much reason to others to pour forth, "There is here so much inconstancy, mutability, and little regard of promises and causes, that in their appointments there is little trust or surety; for things surely determined to be done one day are changed and altered the next."

Nothing came of Wolsey's embassy, nor can we be sure that Henry VII. was much in earnest in his marriage schemes. However, he died in April next year, and was succeeded by a son whose matrimonial hesitations were destined to give Wolsey more trouble than those of his father. Before his death he laid the foundation of Wolsey's clerical fortunes by bestowing on him the rich deanery of Lincoln.

The accession of Henry VIII. made little change in the composition of the King's Council. The Lady Margaret survived her son long enough to make her influence felt in the choice of her grandson's advisers. Archbishop Warham, Bishop Fox, and Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, were the men into whose hands public business naturally fell. But Warham was somewhat stiff and crabbed, so that he did not commend himself to the young king. Fox represented the opinions of the old officials, while the Earl of Surrey was the natural leader of the old nobility, who could not help resenting the subordinate position into which they had been reduced by Henry VII., and hoped that a new reign would give them fresh opportunities. So Fox urged caution and carefulness, while Surrey favoured extravagance and military ambition. Fox felt that he was growing old, and the pressure of a continued conflict of opinion was irksome to him. Much as the ecclesiastics of that time were secular in their lives, they were rarely entirely forgetful of their priestly office, and were genuinely anxious to rid themselves of the burden of affairs and spend their last years in quiet. So Fox chose Wolsey as the man to take his place, perhaps because he saw in him the qualities necessary to influence the young king. Besides him he favoured Ruthal, another experienced official, who was rewarded by the rich bishopric of Durham, but who was soon eclipsed by the superior genius of Wolsey, which he frankly admitted, and willingly accepted the post of Wolsey's assistant and subordinate.

So Wolsey was made the king's almoner, and had sundry preferments bestowed on him as marks of the royal favour. He ingratiated himself with the king, and worked with Fox and Ruthal to counteract the influence of the Earl of Surrey. Probably in 1511 he was called to the King's Council, but neither he nor Fox had it in their power to shape the king's policy as they wished, or to direct his doings. His warlike ardour was against their will; but from the beginning of his reign Henry VIII. went his own way, and others had to follow. All they could do was to show him that they were the most capable of his servants, and when Henry VIII. had determined on war they were the men to whom he turned to carry out the necessary details. On Wolsey as the youngest the chief labour was thrown. England was unprepared for war, and every branch of the military service had to be almost created. Wolsey had at all events a sufficient opportunity for displaying his practical capacity as an organiser.

So Wolsey worked at providing for the troops who were sent to Guienne in 1512; but the expedition itself was a complete failure. Ferdinand played his own game of procrastination, and sent no succours. The Marquis of Dorset was an incapable leader. The English troops were not inured to hardships, and soon grew discontented; at last they rose in open mutiny, and clamoured to be led back to England. Dorset was driven to retire without striking a blow. The first attempt of England to assert her prowess ended in disaster. The statesmen of the Continent made merry over the blundering efforts of an upstart power. "The English," they said, "are so unaccustomed to war that they have no experience to guide them." Henry longed to wipe out this disgrace, and prepared to invade the north of France in the next year. Wolsey was not yet of sufficient importance to direct the king's policy, and had no experience of war. But he threw himself heart and soul into the task of military organisation, and the administrative capacity which he displayed secured his hold on the king's favour. He provided for victualling the fleet, raised the necessary number of ships, selected their captains, and even apportioned the gunners. Nothing was too trivial for his attention, even down to beer-barrels and biscuits. It is not surprising that his colleague, Bishop Fox, wrote to him, "I pray God send us with speed, and soon deliver you of your outrageous charge and labour."

The fleet put to sea in March 1513, under the command of the Lord Admiral Sir Edward Howard. The French fleet was far superior in numbers, and prepared to prevent the English from landing on the French coast. Sir Edward Howard was burning with desire for a decisive engagement, and on 25th April attacked the French galleys as they lay in shallow water. He boarded them with his boats, and himself leapt on to the ship of the French admiral, but before his men could follow him their cable was cut away, and he was left almost alone. Seeing that there was no hope of support, he took his whistle from his neck and cast it into the sea; then with his gilt target on his arm he fought till the enemy's pikes thrust him overboard and he was drowned. The English attack was driven back; but its gallantry and the bravery of Sir Edward Howard produced a great impression. It was clear that after all the Englishmen had not forgotten how to fight. The efforts of the English fleet were successful in securing the peaceful landing of the army at Calais, where Henry arrived at the end of June. With him went Wolsey, commanding two hundred men, and now a necessary personage in the king's train. Such confidence was placed in him by Queen Katharine that she requested him to write to her frequently and inform her of the king's health, while in return she poured her household troubles into his sympathetic ear. No doubt Wolsey's hands were full of business of many kinds during this brief and glorious campaign, glorious in the sense that success attended its operations, but fruitless because the things done were scarcely worth the doing. The English army took Terouenne, more owing to the feebleness of the French than to their own valour. Louis XII. was prematurely old and ailing; things had gone against him in Italy, and there was little spirit in the French army. The defeat of the French outside Terouenne was so rapid that the battle was derisively called the Battle of Spurs. Henry's desire for martial glory was satisfied by the surrender of Terouenne, and his vanity was gratified by the presence of Maximilian, who in return for a large subsidy brought a few German soldiers, and professed to serve under the English king. From Terouenne he advanced to Tournai, which surrendered at the end of September. Maximilian was delighted at these conquests, of which he reaped all the benefit; with Tournai in the hands of England, Flanders had a strong protection against France. So Maximilian would gladly have led Henry to continue the campaign in the interests of the Flemish frontier. But Henry had no taste for spending a winter in the field; he pleaded that his presence was needed in England, and departed, promising to return next year.

In truth the arms of England had won a greater victory on English ground than anything they had achieved abroad. The war against France awakened the old hostility of Scotland, and no sooner was Henry VIII. encamped before Terouenne than he received a Scottish herald bringing a message of defiance. "I do not believe that my brother of Scotland will break his oath," said Henry, "but if he does, he will live to repent it." Repentance came rapidly on the Field of Flodden, where the Scottish army was almost cut to pieces. This brilliant victory was greatly due to the energy of Queen Katharine, who wrote to Wolsey, "My heart is very good to it, and I am horribly busy with making standards, banners, and badges." She addressed the English leaders before they started for the war, bade them remember that the English courage excelled that of other nations, and that the Lord smiled on those who stood in defence of their own. With a proud heart she sent her husband the blood-stained plaid of the Scottish king, taken from his corpse. "In this," she wrote, "your Grace shall see how I keep my promise, sending you for your banner a king's coat."

The victory of Flodden Field was of great importance, for it delivered England from the fear of a troublesome neighbour, and showed Europe that England could not be muzzled by the need of care for her own borders. The Scottish power was broken for many years to come, and England was free to act as she would. Europe began to respect the power of England, though there was little reason to rate highly the wisdom of her king. Henry had won little by his campaign; he had gratified his vanity, but he had not advanced towards any definite end.

Henry VIII. was young and simple. He expected to captivate the world by brilliant deeds, and fascinate it by unselfish exploits. He soon found that his pretended allies were only seeking their own advantage. The name of the "Holy League" was the merest pretext. The new Pope, Leo X., a supple time-serving intriguer, trained in the deceitful policy of the Medici House, was willing to patch up the quarrel between France and the Papacy. Ferdinand of Spain wished only to keep things as they were. As he grew older he grew more suspicious, and clung to the power which he possessed. His one dread was lest Charles, the grandson of himself and Maximilian, should demand his maternal heritage of Castile. Ferdinand was resolved to keep the two Spanish kingdoms united under his own rule until his death, and considered European affairs in the first instance as they were likely to affect that issue. He was of opinion that France was no longer formidable to Spanish interests in Italy, while English successes on the Flemish frontier might make Charles more powerful than he wished him to be. Accordingly he set to work to undermine Henry's position by making an alliance with France. He was still Henry's ally, and had promised him to help him to continue the war in the spring of 1514. None the less he entered into secret negotiations with France, and cautiously endeavoured to persuade Maximilian to join him. Maximilian was still at war with Venice, and was aggrieved that he was the only member of the plundering gang who had not gained by the League of Cambrai. Ferdinand allured him from his interest in Flanders by the prospect of a renewal of the League against Venice in his special behalf, and Maximilian was sanguine enough to listen to the temptation. He faintly stipulated that the consent of England should be obtained, but was satisfied with Ferdinand's assurance that Henry would have no objection to a truce with France. Early in April 1514 a truce for a year was made between Louis XII., Maximilian, and Ferdinand. Henry found himself tricked by his father-in-law, and abandoned by the ally whom he had largely subsidised, and had greatly benefited.

It is no wonder that Henry was greatly angered at this result, and declared that he would trust no man any more. He had taken the measure of the good faith of European rulers, and had learned the futility of great undertakings for the general welfare. In truth, the difficulty of European politics always lies in the fact that the general welfare can only be promoted by the furtherance of particular interests, which threaten in their turn to become dangerous. The interests of the sixteenth century were purely dynastic interests, and seem trivial and unworthy. We are not, however, justified in inferring that dynastic interests, because they are concerned with small arrangements, are in their nature more selfish or more iniquitous than interests which clothe themselves in more fair-sounding phrases. Their selfishness is more apparent; it does not follow that it is less profound.

However that may be, the desertion of Maximilian and Ferdinand put a stop to Henry's warlike projects, and restored England to peace. Henry had had enough of fighting other people's battles. He was willing to pursue his own course by the means which others used, and trust henceforth to the bloodless battles of diplomacy. In this new field Wolsey was the English champion, and for the next sixteen years the history of England is the history of Wolsey's achievements.

Wolsey's services in the campaign of 1513 gave him a firm hold of the king's favour, and secured for him large rewards. As he was an ecclesiastic his salary was paid out of the revenues of the Church. When Tournai became an English possession its bishopric was conferred on Wolsey, and on a vacancy in the bishopric of Lincoln in the beginning of 1514 that see was given him in addition. How the offices of the Church were in those days used as rewards for service to the State may be seen by the fact that the English representative in Rome was the Archbishop of York, Thomas Bainbridge, who lived as Cardinal in the Papal Court. Moreover, an Italian, Silvestro de' Gigli, held the bishopric of Worcester, though he lived habitually in Rome, and devoted his energies to the furtherance of the interests of England. In July 1514 Cardinal Bainbridge died in Rome, poisoned by one of his servants. The Bishop of Worcester was suspected of being privy to the deed for the purpose of removing out of the way a troublesome rival. It would seem, however, that the murder was prompted by vengeful feelings and the desire to hide peculations. The charge against the Bishop of Worcester was investigated by the Pope, and he was acquitted; but the story gives a poor picture of morality and security of life at Rome. On the death of Bainbridge the vacant archbishopric of York was also conferred on Wolsey, who was now enriched by the revenues of three sees, and was clearly marked out as the foremost man in England.

He rose to this position solely by the king's favour, as the king alone chose his own ministers and counsellors, and there existed no external pressure which could influence his decisions. The Wars of the Roses had seen the downfall of the baronial power, and Henry VII. had accustomed men to see affairs managed almost entirely by a new class of officials. The ministers and counsellors of Henry VIII. were chosen from a desire to balance the old and the new system. The remnants of the baronial party were associated with officials, that they might be assimilated into the same class. The Duke of Norfolk, as the greatest nobleman in England, was powerful, and was jealous of the men with whom he found himself called upon to work. Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was the personal friend of the king, and shared in his private more than in his public life. The Earl of Surrey had done good service at Flodden Field, and was a man of practical capacity. The other ministers were most of them ecclesiastics. Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, was respected rather than trusted. Fox, Bishop of Winchester, was a capable and painstaking official. Ruthal, Bishop of Durham, was destitute of real insight, and was content to follow Wolsey's lead. Wolsey won his way by his political genius, his quickness, and his vast power of detailed work. He owed his position entirely to the king, and was responsible to him alone. The king consulted his Council only about such matters as he thought fit; foreign affairs were managed almost entirely according to his own will and pleasure. The English have never been famous for diplomacy, and Wolsey was ill supplied with agents for his work. The English residents at foreign Courts were not men of mark or position. John Stile at the Court of Ferdinand, and Thomas Spinelly in Flanders seem to have been merchants carrying on their own business. With Maximilian was a more important man, Sir Richard Wingfield, a Suffolk knight, who was too self-satisfied and too dull-witted to understand Wolsey's schemes. For special work special agents had to be sent, who went unwillingly to a thankless and laborious task. They were ill paid and ill supported; but even here Wolsey knew how to choose the right men, and he managed to inspire them with his own zeal and tenacity of purpose. It is a striking proof of Wolsey's genius that he knew whom he could trust, and that his trust was never misplaced.

When Henry VIII. was smarting under his rebuff from Maximilian and Ferdinand, he concerted with Wolsey how he might avenge himself, and Wolsey devised his scheme in entire secrecy. Ferdinand and Maximilian had left England in the lurch by making a truce with France. Wolsey resolved to outdo them in their own lines. They had elected to maintain the existing condition of affairs by checking England's aspirations and lending a cold support to France. Wolsey resolved to turn France into a firm ally, that so England and France united might form a new combination, before which the schemes of Ferdinand would be powerless.

Wolsey luckily had the means of approaching Louis XII. without attracting attention. Amongst the prisoners taken in the Battle of the Spurs was the young Duke of Longueville, a favourite of the French king. He had been sent to London, to the sore disturbance of Queen Katharine, who, being a sensible woman, thought that the best thing to do with a prisoner was to confine him in the Tower. On Henry's return the Duke of Longueville was released, and amused himself at Court like any one else. Through him Wolsey opened up secret communications with Louis XII., whose domestic circumstances luckily gave a handle for Wolsey's designs. In January 1514 the French queen died; and although the widowed husband had reached the age of fifty-two, it was known that he was looking out for a young bride.

It has always been one of the most revolting features of dynastic politics that the private relationships of members of ruling families have been entirely determined by considerations of dynastic expediency. In the sixteenth century this was eminently the case. Alliances were family arrangements, and corresponded to motives of family aggrandisement rather than to national interests. They were sealed by marriages, they were broken by divorces. So great were the responsibilities of royalty that the private life of members of royal houses was entirely sunk in their official position. They were mere counters to be moved about the board at will, and disposed of according to the needs of family politics. Such a victim of circumstances was Henry VIII.'s younger sister, the Princess Mary, a bright and intelligent girl of seventeen. She was betrothed to Charles, Prince of Castile, and it had been arranged that the marriage should take place when he reached the age of fourteen. The time was come for the fulfilment of the promise; but Ferdinand did not wish to see his troublesome grandson more closely united to England, which had shown such ambitious inclinations. Maximilian, the guardian of Charles, wavered between his desire to please Henry and Ferdinand, and invented one excuse after another for not proceeding with his grandson's marriage.

Wolsey allowed Maximilian to go on with his shifty talk, and was only too glad to see him fall into the trap. His negotiations with France were progressing, and the outward sign of the new alliance was to be the marriage of Mary to Louis XII. So secretly were the arrangements made that Europe was taken by surprise when, at the end of July, it was gradually known that the alliance between France and England was an accomplished fact. The marriage contract was soon signed, and in October Mary went to Abbeville, where she was met by her elderly husband.

The result of this clever diplomacy was to secure England the respect and envy of Europe. It was clear that henceforth England was a power which had to be reckoned with. Ferdinand was taught that he could no longer count on using his dutiful son-in-law as he thought most convenient to himself. Maximilian sadly reflected that if he needed English gold in the future he must show a little more dexterity in his game of playing fast and loose with everybody. Pope Leo X. was not over-pleased at seeing England develop a policy of her own, and looked coldly on Wolsey. After the death of Cardinal Bainbridge Henry wrote to the Pope and begged him to make Wolsey cardinal in his room. "Such are his merits," said the king, "that I esteem him above my dearest friends, and can do nothing of importance without him." Leo X. coldly replied that there were great difficulties in the way of creating a cardinal: the title, he reminded the king, was much sought after, and admitted its bearer to the highest rank: he must wait a more suitable time. It would seem that the Pope wished to have further guarantees of England's goodwill, and hinted that Wolsey must give pledges of his good behaviour.

England did not long enjoy the diplomatic victory which Wolsey had won by his brilliant scheme of a French alliance. Henry still had a longing for military glory, with which Wolsey had little sympathy. He wished to revenge himself on his perfidious father-in-law, and proposed to Louis XII. an attack upon Navarre, and even thought of claiming a portion of the kingdom of Castile, as rightfully belonging to Queen Katharine. Whatever projects Henry may have had came to an end on the death of Louis on the 1st of January 1515. The elderly bridegroom, it was said, tried too well to humour the social disposition of his sprightly bride. He changed his manner of life, and kept late hours, till his health entirely gave way, and he sank under his well-meant efforts to renew the gallantry of youth.