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Cardinal Wolsey (Version 2)

<h2>CHAPTER IX THE KING'S DIVORCE 1527-1529</h2> If Wolsey hoped that the peace with France, which he had so successfully concluded in the beginning of 1527, would enable him to reassert England's influence on the Continent, and would give him an opportunity for the work of domestic reform, he was sorely disappointed. A new matter arose, not entirely unexpected, but which widened into unexpected issues, and consumed Wolsey's energies till it led to his fall. The project of the king's divorce was suddenly mooted; and this personal matter, before it was ripe for settlement, gradually drew into its sphere all the questions concerning England's foreign and domestic policy which Wolsey's statesmanship had been trying to solve by wise and well-considered means. Wolsey had been gathering into his hands the threads of a complicated policy, each one of which required dexterous handling, in accordance with a great design. He found himself suddenly called upon to act precipitately for the accomplishment of a small matter, which brought all the difficulties of his position prominently forward, and gave him no time for that skilful diplomacy in {151} which he excelled. Moreover, when the project was started neither Henry nor Wolsey could have foreseen the complications which would arise; still less could Wolsey have known the obstinacy which the faintest opposition to the royal will would develop in the king, or the extent to which he could persuade himself that the satisfaction of the royal pleasure was the sole purpose of the existence of the power of the State. At first Henry had sympathised with Wolsey's far-reaching schemes. Latterly he had at all events been willing to allow Wolsey to have his own way on the whole. The time came when he showed himself a hard taskmaster, and demanded that Wolsey should at all costs satisfy his personal desires in a matter which he persuaded himself was all-important to the nation at large. Viewed according to the general notions of the time, there was nothing very surprising in the fact that Henry VIII. should wish for a divorce. Royal marriages were made and unmade from motives of expediency; it was only a question of obtaining a decent plea. The sons of Katharine had died in infancy, and Mary was the only heir of the English throne; it was a matter of importance to the future of England that the succession to the throne should be clearly established. If Henry had remained attached to his wife this consideration would not have been put forward; but Henry was never famed for constancy. He was in the prime of life, while Katharine was over forty. He had developed in character, not for the better, while she remained true to the narrow traditions of her early training. She was an excellent housewife, conscientious, decorous, and capable; but she was devoted to the political interests of Spain, {152} and admired her nephew Charles. While the imperial alliance was warmly pursued by Henry she was happy; when Henry's zeal for Charles began to fade she felt offended, and was not judicious in the display of her political bias. Henry was more and more annoyed by his wife's discontent, and the breach between them rapidly widened. When Henry broke with Charles and allied himself with France he seems to have felt that his domestic peace was at an end, and he was not the man to shrink from the effort to re-establish it upon another basis. Perhaps none of these considerations would have moved Henry to take prompt action if his desires had not been kindled by a new object of his affection. He had not been a faithful husband, and Katharine seems to have been indulgent to his infidelities. In the course of 1526 he was captivated by the charms of Anne Boleyn, as he had formerly been captivated by her sister Mary. But Anne had learned that the king was fickle, and she resolved that she would not be so easily won as to be lightly abandoned. She skilfully managed to make herself agreeable to the king till his passion for her became so violent that he was prepared to accept her terms and make her his lawful wife. Wolsey was not in favour of this plan; but he was not opposed to getting rid of the political influence of Katharine, and he believed that the king's fancy for Anne Boleyn would rapidly pass away. Whatever his own personal opinion might be, he did not venture to gainsay the king in a matter on which he was resolved, and he lent himself to be an instrument in a matter which involved him in measures which became more and {153} more discreditable. The first idea of the king was to declare his marriage with Katharine unlawful, on the ground that she had previously been his brother's wife; but he was cognisant of that when he married her and had applied for a papal dispensation to remedy that source of invalidity. Doubtless some plea might be discovered to enable the Pope to set aside the dispensation granted by his predecessor. But whatever technical grounds might be used to justify the Pope's decision in the king's favour, the Pope could not be expected to act in such a manner as to offend the Powers of Europe and shock the moral sense of Englishmen. Wolsey did not hide from himself that there were three hindrances in the way of legalising the king's divorce. The opinion of England was not in its favour; Charles V. was likely to resent the affront which it would put upon his aunt, and the Pope could not afford to alienate one who was becoming all-powerful in Italy that he might win the distant friendship of the English king; Francis I. had just made a treaty with Henry VIII., by which the hand of Mary had been promised to his son, and he was not likely to wish to see Mary declared to be illegitimate. These were serious elements of opposition, which it would require considerable skill to overcome. The first measure which suggested itself to Henry and Wolsey was to put the king's plea into shape, and endorse it with the authority of the English Church. For this purpose a suit was secretly instituted against the king in Wolsey's legatine court. Henry was solemnly informed that a complaint had been made to Wolsey, as censor of public morals, that he had cohabited for eighteen years with his brother's wife. Henry consented {154} that Archbishop Warham should be joined with Wolsey as assessor, and named a proctor who should plead his cause. Three sessions of this court were held with the profoundest secrecy in May; but in spite of all the attempts at secrecy the imperial ambassador discovered what was going on. The object of this procedure seems to have been to produce a sentence from the legate's court in England which should be confirmed by the Pope without right of appeal. If the Pope had been a free agent he might conceivably have adopted this course; but the news soon reached England that Rome had been sacked by Bourbon, and that the Pope was trembling before Charles V. In this turn of affairs it was useless to proceed farther on the supposition that he would unhesitatingly comply with the wishes of Henry and Wolsey. A court sitting in secret would have no influence on English opinion, and Wolsey proposed that its sittings should be suspended, and the opinions of the English bishops be taken as a means of educating public opinion. But Katharine had been informed of the king's intentions concerning her, and showed a purpose of defending her rights. It would be very awkward if she were the first to make the matter public, and were to appeal to the Pope or her kinsman Charles. The question would then become a political question, and Henry was not prepared with allies. So on 22d June the king broached his difficulties to Katharine. He told her of his scruples, and of his intentions of submitting them to the decision of canonists and theologians; meanwhile they had better live apart. Katharine burst into tears, and the king vaguely tried to assure her that all was being done {155} for the best, and begged her to keep the matter secret. His only object was to prevent her from taking any open steps till he had assured himself of the countenance of the French king to his plans. For this purpose Wolsey was sent on an embassy, ostensibly to settle some questions raised by the French treaty, really to concert with Francis I. a scheme for bringing to bear upon the Pope a pressure which should be strong enough to counteract the influence of Charles V. So, on 3d July, Wolsey left London on his last diplomatic mission. Men who saw Wolsey set out with more than his accustomed state, escorted by nine hundred horsemen, thought, doubtless, that the cardinal's greatness was as high as ever; but those who watched more closely saw him in the splendid ceremonial of the Church of Canterbury "weep very tenderly," for his mind was ill at ease. He must have felt that he was going to use his talents for a bad end, and that all patriotism and nobility had vanished from his aim. On his way to Dover he had a conference with Archbishop Warham, whom he instructed about the conduct to be observed towards the queen. Then at Rochester he sounded Bishop Fisher, the most holy and upright of the English bishops, who had already been asked by Katharine to give her counsel, though she had not ventured to tell him what was the subject on which she wished for his advice. So Wolsey told his own story; that the king's conscience was disquiet, and that he wished to have his scruples set at rest by the opinions of learned men. He represented that Katharine by her hastiness was throwing difficulties in the way of the king's considerate procedure, and threatened to publish the matter, and so create an open {156} scandal. Fisher believed Wolsey's tale, and was beguiled into a belief of the king's good intentions, which the queen could not understand. About the validity of Henry's marriage Wolsey could not get from Fisher an opinion contrary to the authority of a papal dispensation; but he contrived to alienate Fisher from sympathy with Katharine, and so left the queen without a friend while he proceeded to machinate against her in France. We have from one of Wolsey's attendants, George Cavendish, his gentleman-usher, a full account of Wolsey's journey in France. On one point he gives us valuable insight into Wolsey's character where Wolsey has been much misrepresented. He tells us how at Calais he summoned his attendants and addressed them about their behaviour. He explained that the services which he required from them were not personal but official, and his words were those of a statesman who understood, but did not over-estimate, the value of external things. "Ye shall understand," he said, "that the king's majesty, upon certain weighty considerations, hath for the more advancement of his royal dignity assigned me in this journey to be his lieutenant-general, and what reverence belongeth to the same I will tell you. That for my part I must, by virtue of my commission of lieutenantship, assume and take upon me, in all honours and degrees, to have all such service and reverence as to his highness's presence is meet and due, and nothing thereof to be neglected or omitted by me that to his royal estate is appurtenant. And for my part, ye shall see me that I will not omit one jot thereof." Then he added some wise advice {157} about the courtesies to be observed in their intercourse with the French. When matters of etiquette had thus been arranged, Wolsey rode out of Calais on 22d July, and pursued his journey to Abbeville, where he awaited the arrival of Francis I. at Amiens. On 4th August he entered Amiens, and was received with royal honours. His interviews with Francis and the queen-mother were most satisfactory on matters of general policy: the English alliance was firmly accepted, and all questions between the two Crowns were in a fair way towards settlement. Wolsey waited till the political alliance was firmly established before he broached the personal matter of the divorce. Meanwhile he meditated on the schemes which might be pursued by the allied kings to satisfy Henry's desires. He proposed that they should join in demanding from Charles V. that he should restore the Pope's independence, in the hope that the Pope when freed from constraint would be willing to show his gratitude by complying with Henry's demands. If they failed in procuring the Pope's release, they should declare the papal power to be in abeyance, and summon the cardinals to meet at Avignon, where, under Wolsey's presidency, they should transact such business as the Pope in his captivity was unable to discharge. Either of these methods was technically decorous; but they did not much commend themselves to Henry VIII., whose passion for Anne Boleyn daily increased, and who was impatient of any procedure that involved delay. So Henry listened coldly to Wolsey's proposals for a "sure, honourable, and safe" termination of the "king's matter," as the divorce was now called: he {158} wished for a "good and brief conclusion," and gave ear to the advice of Anne Boleyn and her friends. It was easy for them to point out that Wolsey was an old-fashioned statesman, full of prejudice where the Church was concerned. They urged that the king could do better for himself, and could deal more expeditiously with the Pope than could a churchman who was bound to adopt a humble attitude towards his ecclesiastical superior. So Henry determined to take the matter into his own hands, and send his secretary Knight to negotiate with the Pope without Wolsey's intervention. Wolsey, meanwhile, in ignorance of the King's intentions, but distressed at the difficulties which he foresaw, followed the French Court to Compiegne, where he divided his time between diplomatic conflicts, festivities, and the despatch of business. One morning, Cavendish tells us, "He rose early about four of the clock, sitting down to write letters into England unto the king, commanding one of his chaplains to prepare him to mass, insomuch that the said chaplain stood revested until four of the clock at afternoon; all which season my lord never rose once even to eat any meat, but continually wrote his letters, with his own hands, having all that time his nightcap and kerchief on his head. And about the hour of four of the clock, at afternoon, he made an end of writing, and commanded one Christopher Gunner, the king's servant, to prepare him without delay to ride empost into England with his letters, whom he despatched away or ever he drank. And that done he went to mass, and said his other divine service with his chaplain, as he was accustomed to do; and then went straight into a garden; and after he had walked {159} the space of an hour or more, and said his evensong, he went to dinner and supper all at once; and making a small repast, he went to his bed, to take his rest for the night." While Wolsey was thus labouring in this thorny matter, he received a visit from Knight on his way to Rome. Knight's instructions were to demand from the Pope a dispensation for Henry to marry again before the divorce from Katharine had been pronounced; failing this, to marry immediately after his marriage with Katharine was declared invalid. Further, he was to ask the Pope to issue a bull delegating his spiritual authority to Cardinal Wolsey during his captivity. No doubt this was an expeditious way to cut existing difficulties; but it was too expeditious to suit the traditions of the Papal Court. Its obvious clumsiness showed that it was not the work of Wolsey's hand; and it was unwise for the king to inform the Pope that he was trying to act without Wolsey's knowledge. Though Wolsey was left in ignorance of the nature of Knight's instructions, he could not but suspect that the king was acting without his full knowledge. He finished his work at Compiegne and returned to England at the end of September. He at once repaired to the Court at Richmond, and sent to tell the king of his arrival. Hitherto the king had always retired to a private room when he received the cardinal alone. Now Anne Boleyn was with the king in the great hall, and scarcely had Wolsey's message been delivered than she broke in, "Where else should the cardinal come than here where the king is?" The king confirmed her command, and Wolsey found himself ushered {160} into the hall, where Henry sat amusing himself with Anne and his favourites. Serious talk was out of the question. Wolsey was no longer first in the king's confidence. He went away feeling that Anne Boleyn was his political rival, whom he could only overcome by serving better than she could serve herself. Henceforth he had two masters instead of one, and he did not deceive himself that the continuance of his power depended solely on his usefulness in the matter of the divorce. As Wolsey showed himself compliant, Anne Boleyn treated him graciously while she waited to hear the result of Knight's mission to Rome. It was not easy for him to enter the city, which was in possession of the Spaniards, and when he entered it he could not hold any personal communication with Clement VII., who was shut up in the Castle of St. Angelo. On 9th December Clement escaped to Orvieto, where Knight soon joined him, and showed his incapacity for the work which had been confided to him by revealing to the papal officials the whole details of the matter, which he ought to have kept secret. Clement saw at once the value of Henry's conscientious scruples, and learned that he was moved solely by a desire to marry Anne Boleyn, a connection which could not be excused by any paramount reasons of political expediency. However anxious the Pope might be to oblige the English king, there were limits to his complacency, and Knight had not the wits to cast a fair appearance over a disgraceful matter. Yet Clement did not wish to offend Henry by refusing his request at once. The demand for a dispensation empowering the king to marry at once had already been dropped at Wolsey's instance. Knight carried {161} with him a form of dispensation allowing Henry to marry as soon as his marriage with Katharine was dissolved. This form was amended by one of the cardinals, and was signed by the Pope. Knight started back to England, convinced that he had done his business excellently, and was bearing to the king the permission which he desired. When the documents were placed in Wolsey's hands he saw at once that they were worthless. What Henry wanted was permission for Wolsey to decide the question in the Pope's behalf, and permission for himself to act at once as soon as Wolsey's decision was pronounced. The documents which he received did not bar Katharine's right of appeal; consequently Wolsey's decision would be of no effect, and the king could not lawfully marry again pending the appeal. In fact, the Pope reserved the entire decision of the matter in his own hand. It was a small matter for Wolsey to triumph over a man like Knight; but Knight's failure showed Henry and Anne Boleyn that they must put their confidence in Wolsey after all. So in February 1528 Wolsey had to begin again from the beginning, and had to undo the mischief which Knight's bungling had made. He chose as his agents his secretary, Stephen Gardiner, and Edward Foxe, one of the king's chaplains. They were instructed to ask that the Pope would join with Wolsey some special legate, and give them power to pronounce a final judgment. For this purpose they were to plead Henry's cause with all earnestness, and say that the king was moved only by the scruples of his conscience; at the same time they were to praise the virtues of Anne {162} Boleyn, and say that the king was solely moved by considerations of his duty to his country in his desire to marry her. Further, they were to insist on the dishonour which would be done to the Holy See if the Pope, through fear of Charles V., were to refuse to do justice. If the king could not obtain justice from the Pope he would be compelled to seek it elsewhere, and live outside the laws of Holy Church; and however reluctant, he would be driven to this for the quiet of his conscience. Truly these pleas were sorely contradictory. Henry was ready to acknowledge to the fullest extent the papal power of granting dispensations, and was ready to submit to the justice of the Pope as the highest justice upon earth. But this was solely on condition that the Pope gave decision according to his wishes. He regarded the Papacy as an excellent institution so long as it was on his own side. If it refused to see the justice of his pleas, then he fell back as strenuously as did Luther on the necessity of satisfying his own conscience, and to do so he was ready, if need were, to break with the Church. Truly the movement in Germany had affected public opinion more than was supposed when Wolsey could hold such language to the Pope. He did not know what a terrible reality that curious conscience of Henry would become. His words were a truer prophecy than he dreamed. However, this line of argument was stubbornly pursued by Gardiner even in the Pope's presence. Clement at Orvieto was not surrounded by the pomp and splendour customary to his office. The English envoys found him in a little room, seated on a wooden bench {163} which was covered with "an old coverlet not worth twenty pence." But he did not see his way to a restoration of his dignity by an unhesitating compliance with the demands of the English king; on the other hand, the mere fact that his fortunes had sunk so low demanded greater circumspection. He was not likely to escape from dependence on Charles V. by making himself the tool of Francis I. and Henry VIII.; such a proceeding would only lead to the entire destruction of the papal authority. Its restoration must be achieved by holding the balance between the opposing Powers of Europe, and Henry VIII.'s desire for a divorce gave the Pope an opportunity of showing that he was still a personage of some importance. Dynastic questions still depended on his decree, and he could use Henry's application as a means of showing Charles that he had something to fear from the Papacy, and that it was his policy to make the Papacy friendly to himself. So Clement resolved to adopt a congenial course of temporising, in the hope that he might see his advantage in some turn of affairs. No doubt he thought that Henry's matter would soon settle itself; either his passion for Anne Boleyn would pass away, or he would make her his mistress. The stubbornness of Henry, his strange hold upon formal morality while pursuing an immoral course of conduct, his imperious selfwill, which grew by opposition—these were incalculable elements which might have upset the plans of wiser men than Clement VII. So the Pope acted the part of the good simple man who wishes to do what is right. He lamented his own ignorance, and proposed to consult those who were more learned in canon law than himself. When Gardiner {164} said that England asked nothing but justice, and if it were refused would be driven to think that God had taken away from the Holy See the key of knowledge, and would begin to adopt the opinion of those who thought that pontifical laws, which were not clear to the Pope himself, might well be committed to the flames, Clement sighed, and suggested a compromise. Then he added, with a smile, that though canonists said "the Pope has all laws in the cabinet of his breast," yet God had not given him the key to open that cabinet; he could only consult his cardinals. Gardiner's outspoken remonstrances were useless against one who pleaded an amiable incompetence. Against the churnings of Henry's conscience Clement set up the churnings of his own conscience, and no one could gainsay the Pope's right to a conscience as much as the English king. After pursuing this course during the month of March the Pope at length with sighs and tears devised a compromise, in which he feared that he had outstepped the bounds of discretion. He accepted one of the documents which the English envoys had brought, the permission for the king to marry whom he would as soon as his marriage with Katharine had been dissolved. He altered the terms of the other document, which provided for the appointment of a commission with plenary powers to pronounce on the validity of the king's marriage; he granted the commission, but did not give it plenary power; at the same time he chose as the commissioner who was to sit with Wolsey Cardinal Campeggio, who was the protector of England in the Papal Court, and who was rewarded for his services by holding the bishopric of Hereford. In this way he {165} showed every mark of goodwill to Henry short of acquiescing entirely in the procedure which he proposed; but he kept the final decision of the matter in his own hands. Gardiner was not wholly pleased with this result of his skill and firmness: after all his efforts to obtain a definite solution the Pope had managed to escape from giving any binding promise. Still, Foxe put a good face on Gardiner's exploits when he returned to England in the end of April. Henry and Anne Boleyn were delighted, and Wolsey, though he was more dissatisfied than Gardiner, thought it best to be hopeful. He tried to bind the Pope more firmly, and instructed Gardiner to press that the law relating to Henry's case should be laid down in a papal decretal, so that the legates should only have to determine the question of fact; this decretal he promised to keep entirely secret; besides this, he urged that there should be no delay in sending Campeggio. During these months of expectancy Wolsey condescended to ingratiate himself with Anne Boleyn, who had become a political personage of the first importance. Anne was sure of Wolsey's devotion to her interests so long as they were also the king's, and could not dispense with Wolsey's skill. So she was kindly, and wrote friendly letters to Wolsey, and asked for little gifts of tunny-fish and shrimps. The English Court again resembled an amiable family party, whose members were all of one mind. In the course of the summer they were all thrown into terror by an outbreak of the "Sweating Sickness," which devastated the country. Anne Boleyn was attacked, though not severely; and Henry showed that his devotion to her {166} did not proceed to the length of risking his own precious life for her sake. He fled to Waltham, and Anne was left with her father; Henry protested by letter his unalterable affection, but kept out of harm's way till all risk of infection was past. At the same time he showed great solicitude for Wolsey's health, as did also Anne Boleyn. It seemed as though Wolsey were never more useful or more highly esteemed. Yet, strangely enough, this outbreak of the plague drew upon Wolsey the most significant lesson which he had yet received of his own real position and of Henry's resoluteness to brook no check upon his royal will. Amongst others who perished in the sickness was the Abbess of Wilton, and Anne Boleyn wished that the vacant office should be given to one of the nuns of the abbey, Eleanor Carey, sister of William Carey, who had married Anne's sister Mary. Wolsey was informed of the wishes of Anne and of the king on this point; but on examination found that Eleanor's life and character were not such as to fit her for the office. He therefore proposed to confer it on the prioress, Isabella Jordan. It would seem, however, that Eleanor's friends were determined to efface in some degree the scandal which their unwise haste had occasioned, and they retaliated by spreading reports injurious to the character of the prioress. Wolsey did not believe these reports; but Anne Boleyn and the king agreed that if their nominee was to be set aside, the cardinal's nominee should be set aside likewise, and Wolsey was informed of the king's decision. Perhaps Wolsey failed to understand the secret motives which were at work; perhaps he had so far committed himself before receiving the king's message {167} that he could not well go back; perhaps he conscientiously did what he thought right. Anyhow, he appointed Isabella Jordan, and sent her appointment to the king for confirmation; further, he gave as his excuse that he had not understood the king's will in the matter. To his extreme surprise and mortification the king took the opportunity thus afforded of reading him a lecture on his presumption, and reminding him that he was expected to render implicit obedience. Matters were no longer arranged between Henry and Wolsey alone; Anne Boleyn was a third party, and the king's pride was engaged in showing her that his word was law. When Henry took his pen in hand he assumed the mantle of royal dignity, and he now gave Wolsey a sample of the royal way of putting things which was so effectual in his later dealings with his Parliament. He began by assuring Wolsey that the great love he bore him led him to apply the maxim, "Whom I love I chasten;" he spoke therefore not in displeasure but for Wolsey's good. He could not but be displeased that Wolsey had acted contrary to his orders; he was the more displeased that Wolsey had pleaded ignorance as an excuse for his disobedience. He overwhelmed him with quotations from his letters on the subject, and went on, "Ah, my lord, it is a double offence both to do ill and colour it too; but with men that have wit it cannot be accepted so. Wherefore, good my lord, use no more that way with me, for there is no man living that more hateth it." He then went on to tell Wolsey that there were many rumours current about the means which he was employing to raise money from religious houses for the foundation of his new colleges; he told him this because "I {168} dare be bolder with you than many that mumble it abroad." He showed that he had not forgotten the refusal of the monasteries to help in the Amicable Grant: why should they now give money to Wolsey unless they had some interested motive in doing so? He advised Wolsey to look closely into the matter, and ended, "I pray you, my lord, think not that it is upon any displeasure that I write this unto you. For surely it is for my discharge afore God, being in the room that I am in; and secondly, for the great zeal I bear unto you, not undeserved on your behalf. Wherefore, I pray you, take it so; and I assure you, your fault acknowledged, there shall remain in me no spark of displeasure; trusting hereafter you shall recompense that with a thing much more acceptable to me." This letter came upon Wolsey as a sudden revelation of his true position. It showed him the reality of all the vague doubts and fears which he had for some time been striving to put from him. He was crushed into abjectness, which he did not even strive to conceal from others. He took the immediate matters of complaint seriously to heart, and wished to annul the appointment of Isabella Jordan, which the king ruled to be unnecessary; on that point he was satisfied with having asserted a principle. But he advised Wolsey to receive no more gifts for his colleges from religious houses, and Wolsey promised not to do so. "Thereby I trust, nor by any other thing hereafter unlawfully taken, your poor cardinal's conscience shall not be spotted, encumbered, or entangled; purposing, with God's help and your gracious favour, so to order the rest of my poor life that it shall appear to your Highness that I love and dread {169} God and also your Majesty." This was a lamentable prostration of the moral authority of the chief churchman in England before the king, and showed Wolsey's weakness. He knew that he had not demeaned himself as befitted his priestly office; and though he may have felt that no man in England had less right than the king to reprove his conduct on moral grounds, still he could not plead that he was above reproach. In the particular matter of which he was accused—extorting money from the religious houses in return for immunities granted in virtue of his legatine power—there is no evidence that Wolsey was guilty. But he could not say that he had a conscience void of offence; he had acted throughout his career as a statesman and a man of the world. If the king chose to hold him up to moral reprobation he had no valid defence to offer. He had disregarded the criticisms of others that he might serve the king more faithfully; but if the king took upon himself the office of critic he had nothing to urge. It was because Henry had taken the measure of churchmen such as Wolsey that he ventured in later times to hold such lofty language in addressing the clergy. Henry was always superior to the weakness of imagining that his own conduct needed any defence, or his own motives any justification. Wolsey, though forgiven with royal graciousness, was profoundly depressed, and could not recover his sense of security. The future was to him big with menaces, and perhaps he looked most sadly upon his designs which yet remained unrealised. He saw that his activity must henceforth work in a smaller sphere, and that he must make haste to finish what he had on hand. The ugly business of the divorce looked to him still uglier. {170} Either he would fail in his efforts to move the Pope, in which case he lost his hold upon the king at once, or, if he succeeded, he saw that the reign of Anne Boleyn meant the end of his own uncontested influence. The king's letter was at least significant of that: he would never have raised a question about so trivial a matter if he had not wished to justify his absolute power in the eyes of one who was to him all-important. So Wolsey faced the future; he put his aspirations on a lower level, and wished only to garner certainly some of the fruits of his life-long labour. He told the French ambassador, Du Bellay, "that if God permitted him to see the hatred of these two nations (France and England) extinguished, and firm amity established, as he hopes it will shortly be, with a reform of the laws and customs of the country, such as he would effect if peace were made, and the succession of the kingdom assured, especially if this marriage took place, and an heir male were born of it, he would at once retire, and serve God for the rest of his life; and that, without any doubt, on the first honourable occasion he could find, he would give up politics." Doubtless Wolsey was genuine in these utterances, and felt that he was resigning much when he reduced his designs within the limits which he here set forth. But limited as they were, they still contained an entire scheme for the reconstruction of English politics. Wolsey's plans remained complete, however much he might be willing to reduce them; he was incapable of being a mere attendant upon chance. For the present he was awaiting with growing anxiety the coming of Cardinal Campeggio, which was delayed, according to the Pope's policy of procrastination. First {171} the cardinal had to contend against the difficulties created by the disorderly state of Italy; then he was delayed by an attack of the gout, which made his movements slow; and he did not reach London till 8th October. When he came he was not prepared to act at once, nor did he treat Wolsey as an equal but rather as a subordinate in the work of the commission. In fact, Campeggio behaved as judge, and Wolsey as the king's advocate. Campeggio's instructions were first to try and persuade the king to lay aside his purpose of a divorce. He soon saw that this was useless, and Wolsey plainly warned him with prophetic instinct. "Most reverend lord, beware lest, in like manner as the greater part of Germany, owing to the harshness and severity of a certain cardinal, has become estranged from the Apostolic See and the faith, it should be said that another cardinal has given the same occasion to England, with the same result." Failing to shake the king's determination, the next course which Campeggio was ordered to pursue was to persuade the queen to comply with the king's wishes. Katharine was still treated with outward respect, but was cut off from all friends and advisers, and subjected to a secret and galling persecution. Still she maintained a resolute spirit, and withstood the pleadings of Wolsey and Campeggio, who urged her to give way and withdraw to a monastery, for the quieting of the king's conscience. Katharine replied that there was nothing of which his conscience need be afraid, and that she intended "to live and die in the estate of matrimony to which God had called her." The obstinacy of Katharine was as invincible as the obstinacy of Henry; and Katharine had right on her side. {172} Nothing remained save for the legates to proceed to the trial of the case; and in the trial Campeggio's instructions bade him procrastinate to the utmost in hopes the king might give way before the long delay. Wolsey had foreseen this possibility when he demanded that Campeggio should bring with him a decretal defining the law as applicable to the case. This decretal Campeggio was instructed to show the king, but keep in his own hands, so that it was useless for Wolsey's purpose. His first object was to get hold of this decretal, and he wrote urgently to the Pope asking that it should be delivered into the king's hands, and shown to the Privy Council. "Without the Pope's compliance," he sadly wrote, "I cannot bear up against this storm." But Clement VII. felt that he was more dependent on Charles V. than on Henry VIII., and declared that he had granted the decretal merely to be shown to the king and then burned; he had never consented that it be shown to the king's counsellors. When he was further pressed he tossed his arms and said, with great agitation, "I do consider the ruin that hangs over me; I repent what I have done. If heresies arise, is it my fault? My conscience acquits me. None of you have any reason to complain. I have performed my promise, and the king and the cardinal have never asked anything in my power which I have not granted with the utmost readiness; but I will do no violence to my conscience. Let them, if they like, send the legate back again, on the pretext that he will not proceed in the cause, and then do as they please, provided they do not make me responsible for injustice." Here the Pope touched upon a noticeable feature of {173} the case. Henry was bound upon a course which was neither legally nor morally right, though national interests might to some degree be pleaded in its behalf. He was, however, resolved to be legally and morally justified in his own eyes and in the eyes of others. He would not content himself with setting aside the law, and leaving it to others to prove him in the wrong. The Papal Court was slow to justify him; it would have been slower to condemn him. Most men would have been satisfied with this knowledge, and would have acted upon it. But Henry was not only minded to do what he wished, but was resolved that what he wished should be declared absolutely right. He was determined that there should be no doubt about the legitimacy of his children by Anne Boleyn; and some recognition is due to him for not allowing his desires to overcome his patriotism, and leave to England the deplorable legacy of a disputed succession. As a man, Henry did not strive to subject his desires to the law of right; as a king, he was bent upon justifying his own caprice so that it should not do hurt to his royal office, or offend his duty to his kingdom. Henry sinned, but he was bent on sinning royally, and believed that so he could extenuate his sin. Not only was Campeggio ordered not to part with the decretal, but he was bidden to destroy it. Meanwhile a new feature of the case emerged. It became known that, besides the bull of dispensation granted to Henry VII., an ampler brief had been issued in confirmation of it to Ferdinand of Spain, of which the original was contained in the Spanish archives. Henry VIII. insisted on its production, in the hopes of destroying {174} it or casting doubts on its authenticity, and new negotiations were begun about this brief, which had the effect of wasting time and deferring the trial of the case. Further, on Clement VII.'s return to Rome in May he was attacked by illness, and his death was reported. Nothing could be done by the legates till they were assured of his recovery. Meanwhile Henry was growing more and more impatient, and made it clear to Wolsey that if the proceedings did not lead to his divorce all the blame would be laid at Wolsey's door. Anne Boleyn also began to suspect Wolsey's good intentions towards herself, and thought that he was responsible for these repeated delays. Wolsey could no longer doubt that his all was staked on the issue of the trial, which at length began at Blackfriars on 18th June 1529. Katharine appeared, and protested against the jurisdiction of the court. For the purpose of deciding this point it was necessary that both parties should appear in person; and on 21st June Henry and Katharine both were present. The king demanded instant judgment for the easing of his conscience; Katharine first knelt before the king and asked for pity, then she appealed to Rome, where only the cause could be decided without partiality or suspicion. The legates overruled her appeal, and on her non-appearance declared her contumacious. The summoning of the king and queen was merely a formal incident in the procedure of the court, but it strangely impressed itself upon men's minds. The king, whom they regarded as the fountain of law, was called to plead before one of his own subjects and a foreign priest. Apart from any thought of the question at issue, {175} or its rights and wrongs, Englishmen marvelled at this indignity, and felt that ecclesiastical law was some foreign thing which they could not fathom. No doubt the impression then wrought upon their minds accounts in some measure for the acceptance of the royal supremacy, as being at least more intelligible than the actual working of the outworn theory of the supremacy of the Pope. Moreover, the suppliant attitude of Katharine awakened a strong feeling of compassion, which on 28th June found expression from the upright Bishop of Rochester, John Fisher, who appeared to plead Katharine's cause, and declared himself ready to follow the example of John the Baptist and lay down his life, if need be, to maintain the sanctity of matrimony. Others followed his example, and the signs of some dislike to the king's proceedings amongst Englishmen encouraged Campeggio to fall back upon his policy of procrastination, which the impetuous zeal of Wolsey was striving to overcome. Henry grew more and more angry at the signs of opposition to his will which met him on every side, and Wolsey had to bear the brunt of the royal wrath. Cavendish tells how one day Wolsey left the king's presence and took his barge. The Bishop of Carlisle, who was with him, remarked that the day was hot. "Yea," quoth my lord cardinal, "if ye had been as well chafed as I have been within this hour ye would say it was very hot." He went home "to his naked bed," where in two hours' time he was found by Lord Wiltshire, who brought a message from the king, bidding him and Campeggio "repair unto the queen at Bridewell, into her chamber, to persuade her by their wisdoms, {176} advising her to surrender the whole matter unto the king's hands by her own will and consent, which should be much better to her honour than to stand to the trial of law and be condemned, which would seem much to her slander and defamation." Wolsey vainly complained of the folly of the lords of the Council in putting such fancies into the king's head: he was bound to rise and obey. Sadly he sought Campeggio, and with a sense of deep humiliation the two judges set out to make another attempt to browbeat an accused who had already refused to submit to their judicial authority. On 23d July it was expected that the court would give its decision. The king was present in a gallery, and after the reading of the pleas his counsel demanded judgment. Campeggio rose and declared that as the vacation of the Roman courts began at the end of July and lasted till October, he must follow that custom, and adjourn the sittings of the court for two months. On this the Duke of Suffolk slapped the table and exclaimed, "It was never merry in England whilst we had cardinals among us." Wolsey was not the man to brook an insult, especially from one whom he had greatly benefited. "Sir," he said, "of all men within this realm ye have least cause to dispraise or be offended at cardinals: for if I, a simple cardinal, had not been, you should have had at this present no head upon your shoulders, wherein you should have a tongue to make any such report of us, who intend you no manner of displeasure." But though Wolsey could still wear a bold face when attacked, he knew that the future was hopeless. His enemies were daily gaining ground. His place, as the king's trusted counsellor, was taken by Stephen Gardiner, {177} whom he had trained, and who was now the king's secretary and Anne Boleyn's chief agent. The old nobles, headed by the Duke of Norfolk, had made common cause with the relations of Anne Boleyn, and saw their opportunity of avenging themselves for all the slights which Wolsey had put upon them. Henry was unwilling to abandon all hopes of his divorce through the legatine court, and spared Wolsey for a time; but Wolsey knew that the ground was slipping from under him. The Pope resolved to revoke the cause to Rome, and recall the powers granted to the legates; it required all Wolsey's efforts to prevent the issue of a citation to Henry to appear before the Roman court. Moreover, Wolsey had the additional pang of seeing all the fruits of his diplomatic activity abandoned before the absorbing interest of this miserable matter of the king's domestic life. If there was one object which was dear to Wolsey's heart, it was to secure England's power in Europe by a close alliance with France. For this purpose he had made great sacrifices, and he thought that he had some claim on Francis I.'s gratitude. Yet Francis was negotiating for peace with Charles V., and a conference was being held at Cambrai between his mother Louise and Charles's aunt Margaret. Wolsey sorely longed to be present at that conference and protect the interests of England; but Henry VIII. had no interest in such matters, and only regarded Wolsey's wish as a sign that he was lukewarm in his efforts for the divorce. Moreover, Francis I. defamed him to the English envoy, the Duke of Suffolk, and did his best to foster the king's suspicion of Wolsey's zeal in "the great matter." He knew that to deprive Henry of his {178} acute adviser was the readiest means of hiding his own proceedings. The conference at Cambrai was an abandonment of the methods of diplomacy and a return to the old usages of the days of chivalry. Two women took counsel together about family affairs, and their object was to remove domestic difficulties. Really Francis I. was weary of a profitless warfare, and agreed to abandon Italy to Charles V. Henry VIII. was appeased by a transference of the debt of Charles V. to the shoulders of Francis I., and this promise of more money seems to have satisfied the English king. Early in August the peace was signed, and Henry was included in its provisions. If a testimony were needed that entirely English diplomacy depended upon Wolsey, it would be found in Henry's short-sightedness at this time. He did not try to influence the proceedings at Cambrai, but allowed himself to be hoodwinked by Francis I., even in the point about which he was most interested. The peace of Cambrai left Charles V. supreme in Italy, and restored in name the authority of the Pope, which the two sovereigns declared themselves resolved to maintain. Its practical result was to make the Pope more anxious to please Charles, who was now most closely connected with his political interests, and to free him from the dread of an alliance between Henry and Francis, which might have brought pressure to bear upon his action in the divorce. Clement had now no special motive for trying to conciliate the English king, and it was clear to all Europe that Wolsey no longer guided England's policy. It was not only that Wolsey had failed in the matter of the divorce, but his failure had brought to light the {179} true nature of the policy which he was pursuing, and had shown that it was not adapted to the turn which affairs were taking under the influence of the king's personal desires. Wolsey had planned a conservative reform, to be carried out gradually. England, respected on the Continent, and holding the balance between France and the Empire, was gradually to assert its power and independence by setting up a strong monarchy which should overawe the Papacy, and without any formal breach with past traditions, should remodel its ecclesiastical institutions, and put its relations to the Papacy on a new footing. Henry VIII. had so far entered into the spirit of this plan as to regard the existing state of things as of little moment, and his wishes led him to try and anticipate the future. This was the most disastrous thing that could have befallen Wolsey: it is the danger which besets all attempts at conservative reform. It is hard to train men in the ideas of future change, and expect them to submit patiently to present fetters. Henry brusquely demanded too much from the Pope, and the Pope in his alarm offered too little. Wolsey tried to mediate, but he was too closely allied with Henry for the Pope to trust him, and when his object was clearly seen in a small matter he was deprived of the means by which he hoped to win. His method was framed for large operations on a large field; it was not suited for the petty task which was suddenly imposed upon him. Yet if it failed there it was sure to be condemned altogether, and the future would belong to the more revolutionary forces which he had been trying to hold in check. So in proportion as Wolsey failed about the divorce, {180} the threads of his different but converging schemes fell from his hands. What was the profit to Henry of Wolsey's intricate foreign policy if it did not allow him to get a divorce when he pleased? Why should he deal tenderly with the papal authority when it threw such obstacles in his way? Why should he spare the Church when its bishops protested against him? Why should he permit the slow transformation of the monasteries when with a little trouble their spoil would fall into his hands? Why should he trust to Wolsey, who had already failed him in his need, when he had men like Gardiner, with clear heads about matters of details, to serve him at his need? Above all, why should Wolsey's fine-drawn plans stand between him and his people's affections, and lead him to do what Englishmen neither understood nor approved? These were the questions with which Henry was plied. Wolsey had been only too successful and too consistent. If his policy was abandoned in aught, it must be abandoned in all. When Henry let fall Wolsey's foreign policy, and made no effort to influence the peace of Cambrai, there was no further need of Wolsey in England's councils, and his rule was practically at an end. Still Wolsey was permitted to retain his offices. Campeggio had not yet departed; something might still be done. The king had for some time avoided seeing Wolsey, and was engaged in wandering from place to place in the company of Anne Boleyn. At last, in the middle of September, Campeggio prepared to return to Rome, and accompanied by Wolsey went to take leave of the king, who was then at Grafton in Northamptonshire. There they arrived on 19th September, {181} and Campeggio was shown to his room, but Wolsey was informed that there was no room provided for him. He was relieved from his astonishment by a groom of the stole, who said, "I assure you, sir, here is very little room in this house, scantly sufficient for the king. However, I beseech your grace to accept mine for a season." When Wolsey and Campeggio were ushered into the king's presence they found the lords of the Council eagerly watching the king's behaviour. If they expected any signs of the royal displeasure they were disappointed, as Henry received Wolsey most graciously, and drew him aside into a window, where he talked with him privately. The king dined privately with Anne Boleyn, and Wolsey dined with the lords of the Council. In course of conversation he hinted at his own intentions for the future by saying, "It were well done if the king would send his chaplains and bishops to their cures and benefices." The Duke of Norfolk eagerly assented, and Wolsey went on to say that he would gladly go to his bishopric of Winchester. Then Norfolk showed his fears by saying, "Nay, to your see of York, whence comes both your greatest honour and charge." Already Wolsey's foes were scheming to remove him as far as possible from the royal presence. Every one was eagerly watching and listening for the smallest indications of the royal pleasure; and Cavendish was told that Anne Boleyn at dinner with the king showed her dissatisfaction at Wolsey's kindly reception. She denounced the cardinal in no measured terms, but without any immediate result, as after dinner the king called Wolsey into his private room and talked {182} with him for some time; "the which blanked his enemies very sore, and made them to stir the coals, being in doubt what this matter would grow into, having now none other refuge to trust to but Mistress Anne, in whom was all their whole and firm trust and affiance." Wolsey rode off to "Master Empson's house, called Euston, three miles from Grafton," where he spent the night, and received a visit from Gardiner, who was thought to come as a spy; but Wolsey talked to him about indifferent subjects, and showed that his sense of personal dignity was still strong. Next morning he rode early to the Court, and saw the king for a short time; but Anne Boleyn had prepared a picnic at Hatwell Park, and carried off Henry with her, that Wolsey might not have much opportunity for private talk. The king bade a hurried farewell to Wolsey and Campeggio, and then rode away with Anne, while the legates returned to London. Campeggio did not reach Dover till 8th October, and before he was allowed to embark his luggage was ransacked by the king's officials. This extraordinary violation of the privileges of an ambassador was characteristic of the unscrupulous meanness to which Henry was now ready to descend. He hoped to find amongst Campeggio's papers the Pope's decretal about the law of the divorce. If he had found it Wolsey might still have been useful. He might have been compelled to continue the proceedings of the legatine court, and give judgment in Henry's favour, sheltering himself under the terms of the commission, and applying the interpretation of the decretal. In this way the first measures wrung out of the Pope when he {183} wished to be conciliating might have been used in a high-handed fashion against the conclusions of his settled policy. But Campeggio had already been instructed by the Pope to burn the decretal. Nothing was found as the result of the search, which only revealed the cardinal's poverty. He had come to England ill provided, and had gained nothing from the royal bounty. This unworthy device seems to have been of Henry's own devising; and as soon as he heard of its failure Wolsey's doom was sealed. The king had treated him graciously, to the dismay even of Anne Boleyn, a few days before; now he abandoned him to his enemies, who had their weapons of attack in readiness. On 9th October the king's attorney sued for a writ of præmunire against Wolsey, on the ground that his acts done as legate were contrary to the statute. After this Wolsey's ruin was a foregone conclusion. <div class="pagenum">{184}</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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