It had been for many years the main point of English foreign policy to counteract the unification of France by maintaining a close connection with the House of Burgundy, as possessors of Flanders and Holland, the principal markets for the English wool and cloth. This policy had drawn England and Spain together when the inheritances of Spain and Burgundy were united, and it had also led to the marriage of Catharine of Aragon in England. But Henry’s desire to hold the balance, and Wolsey’s greed and ambition, had made them willing to listen to the blandishments of Francis, and to consent to the distrustful and pompous comedy of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. Charles, the new Emperor, had shown his appreciation of the threatened friendship between France and England, by his Quixotic rush over to England to see Henry earlier in the year (1520). His stay was a short one, only four days, but it was sufficient for his purpose. He could promise more to Wolsey than Francis could, and Henry’s vanity was flattered at the young Emperor’s chivalrous trust in him. When Charles sailed from Dover, he knew full well that, however splendid and friendly might be the interviews of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, Francis would not have the King of England on his side in the inevitable coming war, even if he did not fight against him. This was the condition of English politics at home and abroad when William Cecil first saw the light at Bourne, in Lincolnshire, on the 13th September 1520. He came into the world at the opening of a new epoch both for his country and for the general advancement of civilisation, and before he left it the modern dispensation was firmly planted, in England at least, owing in no small measure to his sagacity and statecraft.