After his disastrous defeat at Pavia, the news of which he communicated to his mother in the famous words, “_Tout est perdu fors l’honneur_,” Francis I. had been taken captive to Madrid, from whence he only escaped by submitting to the most suicidal conditions, leaving his two eldest sons as hostages in the hands of the Emperor. But having signed the treaty of Madrid as a prisoner, and being therefore no free agent, he was scarcely likely to consider its terms binding. One of its stipulations was that he should marry the Emperor’s sister, Eleanor, Dowager Duchess of Austria, but this he had no intention of doing, provided he could regain possession of his children by any other means. In the perpetual game of see-saw played by the three principal monarchs of Christendom, with a constant change of partners, it is not surprising to find Francis now looking towards England for a way out of his difficulties. He had contrived to form a league against Charles, consisting of the Pope, the Swiss, the Venetians, and the Florentines; and if England could be persuaded to join it, this league would be strong enough to defy the Emperor, and France might not only regain her lost possessions, but dictate the terms of peace. But Henry and Wolsey had no particular interest in making things pleasant for Francis, whose overtures met with no eager response. It was not clear to the King or his Chancellor what advantage would be derived by them from an alliance with Francis. “This king will not spend money to make an enemy of his friend, and gain nothing,” replied the astute Wolsey to the Venetian, Gasparo Spinelli, and he assured him that England would not join the league, unless his most Christian Majesty first undertook to restore Boulogne, and to marry the Princess Mary.[53] But France had suffered too many humiliating losses willingly to give up so important a place, and later, when Henry sent a special envoy to negotiate a marriage between Mary and Francis, all mention of Boulogne was dropped. It would seem incredible, but for authentic evidence, that Henry should have seriously entertained the notion of bestowing on a middle-aged profligate such as the King of France, whose actual life would not bear investigation, the young daughter whom he professed to love and cherish, as “the pearl of the world”. Nevertheless, for a time at least, his mind was fixed on this purpose, and Wolsey was never more keenly alive to his own interests than in the fabrication of this delicate piece of diplomacy. Francis was equally in earnest, on account of his impatience to take reprisals on the Emperor, and the Queen mother, Louise of Savoy, told the English ambassadors that her son had long been anxious to marry their Princess, “both for her manifold virtues and other gay qualities, which they assured them were not here unknown”.