Act II. Sc. 1). One of its antient significations was a _sharp bit

to break horses with. A farrier's _brake_ was a machine to confine or trammel the legs of unruly horses. An antient instrument of torture was also called _a brake_; and a thorny _brake_ meant an intricate thicket of thorns. Shakerly Marmion, in his comedy of 'Holland's Leaguer', evidently uses the word in the same sense with Cavendish:

"-------Her I'll make A stale to catch this courtier in _a brake_."

[107] The 3d Day of July (1526), the Cardinal of Yorke passed through the City of London, with many lords and gentlemen, to the number of twelve hundred horse----The 11th day of May he took shipping at Dover, and landed at Calais the same day.

_Grafton_, p. 1150.

[108] _Lanzen-Knechts_, the name by which these bands of German mercenaries were then designated.

[109] Cavendish uses this word again in his poems:

"Wherin was found a certyn _defuse_ clause Wrested by craft to a male intente." p. 139.

See _Fox's Acts_, &c. p. 1769:

"_Cook._ Then answere me, What sayest thou to the blessed sacrament of the altar? Tell me:

"_Jackson._ I answered; it is a _diffuse_ question, to aske me at the first dash, you promising to deliver me." See also p. 1574. "_Diffuse_ and _difficult_."

It appears to have been used in the sense of _obscure_, but _difficult_ is the reading of Grove's edition. I find _diffused_ explained by Cotgrave "_diffus_, _espars_, OBSCURE." And in a Latin Greek and English Lexicon by R. Hutton, printed at London by H. Bynneman, 1583, the Latin adverb, _obscure_, is interpreted "darkely, obscurely, DIFFUSELY."

[110] The great seal could not be carried out of the king's dominions without violating the law; letters patent were passed to enable Dr. Taylor to hold it in his absence.

[111] _Stradiots and Arbenois._ These were light armed cavalry, said by Guicciardini to have been Greek mercenaries in the service of Venice, retaining their Greek name στρατιώται. Arbenois is Albanians, _Albanois_, FR. The following passage from _Nicot Thresor de la Langue Françoise, ed. 1606. fol._ will fully explain this:

"A présent on apelle en particulier _Albanois_ ces hommes de cheval armez à la légère, autrement dit Stratiote, ou _Stradiots_ (par la consonne moyenne), qui portent les chapeaux à haute testière, desquels on se sert pour chevaux légers, qui viennent dudit pays d'Albanie, dont les Papes se servent encore de ce temps és garnisons de plusieurs villes du Saint siège, _Albani, olim Epirotæ_."

[112] In like manner, we saw, a little above, that at Calais he gave "benediction and pardon." From a letter to the cardinal, from Humfrey Monmouth, confined in the Tower on suspicion of heresy, we may gather what notion was entertained, even by comparatively enlightened men, of the efficacy of these pardons. "If I had broken most part of the Ten Commandments of God, being penitent and confessed (I should be forgiven) by reason of certain pardons that I have, the which my company and I had graunted, whan we were at Rome, going to Jerusalem, of the holy father the pope, _a pœna et a culpa_, for certain times in the year: and that, I trust in God, I received at Easter last past. Furthermore I received, when your grace was last at Pawles, I trust in God, your pardon of _a pœna_ _et a culpa_; the which I believe verily, if I had done never so great offences, being penitent and confessed, and axing forgiveness, that I should have forgiveness." _Strype's Ecclesiast. Memor._ vol. i. p. 248. Appendix. The cardinal had also a bull granted by Pope Leo Xth. A. D. 1518. to give in certain cases and conditions plenary remission from all sins. _Fiddes_, p. 48. Appendix. _W._

[113] Among other distinguished honours conferred by Francis upon the Cardinal was the singular privilege of pardoning and releasing prisoners and delinquents confined in the towns through which he passed, in the same manner as the king himself was used to do: the only culprits excluded from the power of pardon given him by this patent were those guilty of the most capital crimes.

[114] i. e. _Switzers_. Cavendish revels in his subsequent description of the _tall Scots_ who formed the French king's body guard.

[115]

Whose mule if it should be sold So gayly trapped with velvet and gold And given to us for our schare, I durst ensure the one thing As for a competent lyvynge This seven yeare we should not care. _Roy's Satire._

In the picture of the Champs de drap d'or, which has been engraved by the Society of Antiquaries, the cardinal appears mounted on a richly caparisoned mule.

[116] A previous negotiation of a singular nature had been begun, for the Bishop of Bath writes to the cardinal in March, 1527, that "Francis is very desirous to have the Princess Mary, and to have her delivered into his hands as soon as the peace is concluded. Our king pretends her non age, and will have all, pension, &c., concluded first. The Queen Regent is earnest also for the present marriage: Saying there is no danger, for she herself was married at xi. And for this match there might be a device to satisfy both sides, saying the princess will be well toward xii by August. At that time both princes should meet at Calais with a small company and charge, there her son, after the marriage solemnized, might abide himself for an hour or less with my Lady Princess; she said the king her son was a man of honour and discretion, and would use no violence, especially the father and mother being so nigh; meaning, that _conatus ad copulam cum illa, quæ est proxima pubertati, prudentia supplente ætatem_, should make every thing sure that neither party should now vary. So the king her son might be assured of his wife, and King Henry carry back his daughter till she should be accounted more able, &c. This overture our ambassadors think very strange." _Fiddes Collections_, p. 176. The Bishop of Bath returned into England soon after the cardinal went on his mission, to relate to Henry the course adopted by the cardinal in treating with Francis, and also to explain to him certain devices concerning his own secret matters. _Mr. Master's Collections._

[117] Skinner explains this word, _a curtain_. It evidently signifies here an enclosed or divided space or seat, decorated with rich draperies or curtains. In another place we have _a traverse of sarsenet_, which confirms Skinner's explanation.

[118] Grises, greeses, or _steps_, for it was spelt various ways according to the caprice of the writer, from the Latin _gressus_.

[119] The _roodeloft_ was the place where the cross stood; it was generally placed over the passage out of the church into the chancel.

[120] The passage within brackets is not to be found in any of the more recent MSS., nor in Dr. Wordsworth's edition.

[121] Erasmus, in a letter to Aleander, dwells with delight upon this custom:

"Quanquam si Britanniæ dotes satis pernosses Fauste, næ tu alatis pedibus, huc accurreres; et si podagra tua non sineret, Dædalum te fieri optares. Nam ut e pluribus unum quiddam attingam. Sunt hic nymphæ divinis vultibus, blandae, faciles, et quas tu tuis Camænis facile anteponas. _Est præterea mos nunquam satis laudatus_: Sive quo venias omnium osculis exciperis; sive discedas aliquo, osculis demitteris: redis? redduntur suavia; venitur ad te? propinantur suavia: disceditur abs te? dividuntur basia: occuritur alicubi? basiatur affatim: denique, quocunque te moveas, suaviorum plena sunt omnia. Quæ si tu, Fauste, gustasses semel quam sint mollicula, quam fragrantia, profecto cuperes non decennium solum, ut Solon fecit, sed ad mortem usque in Anglia peregrinari." _Erasmi Epistol._ p. 315, edit. 1642. "It becometh nat therefore the persones religious to folowe _the maner of secular persones_, that in theyr congresses and commune metyngs or departyng done use to kysse, take hands, or such other touchings, that good religious persones shulde utterly avoyde." _Whytford's Pype of Perfection._ fol. 213. b. A. D. 1532. _W._

[122] This name is spelt _Creeky_ and _Crykky_ in the autograph MS. In Wordsworth's edition it is Crokey. Grove has it _Crockly_, and two of the MSS. copies _Crokir_. I know not whether I have divined the true orthography, but there was a noble family of this name at the time.

[123] _Evensong._ "Which persons for their waiting befoir noon hath licence at afternoon to go about their own business from the saide noon to iij of the clocke that evensong begin."

_Northumberland Household Book_, p. 310.

[124] The shalme, or shawm, was a wind instrument like a hautboy, with a swelling protuberance in the middle. In "Commenius's Visible World," translated by Hoole, 1659, the Latin word _gingras_ is translated by shawn, and the form of the instrument is represented as below. Its proper name appears to have been _shawme_; it is derived from the Teutonic. Drayton mentions it as shrill-toned: 'E'en from the shrillest _shaum_ unto the cornamute.'

_Polyolbion_ v. iv. p. 376.

[125] _Now_, Wordsworth's edit. The passages within brackets which follow are not found in any other manuscript: a space almost always marking the deficiency of this relation, and the succeeding account of the libels of the French against the cardinal.

[126] Catherine Reneé, one of the daughters of Louis the Twelfth. It does not seem that this exposition of the cardinal's views in regard to the union of Henry with this princess, in case of a divorce, were without foundation, for he persuaded himself that Henry's passion for Anne Boleyn would soon subside, and thought this alliance a sure mode of perpetuating the peace and union between the sovereigns. The other part of the assertion was proved true by the subsequent treaty, in which it was agreed that the Princess Mary should marry either Francis, or the Duke of Orleans; the first if he should remain a widower until she was of sufficient age, the second if it seemed expedient that Francis should keep his faith to the emperor, and marry his sister Leonora, to whom he was contracted by the Treaty of Madrid. Hence the necessity of keeping these designs secret, and the cardinal's anger at their developement.

[127] This passage stands in the ordinary MSS., and in Dr. Wordsworth's edition, in the following abridged and confused manner. The transcribers of the MSS. appear to have been sensible that their copy was defective, for in several of them one or two blank leaves are here left.

"Now shortly after there were divers malicious practices pretended against us by the French, who by their theft somewhat impaired us: whereupon one of them, being a man I was well acquainted with, maintained a seditious untruth, openly divulged, and set forth by a subtle and traitorous subject of their realm, saying also that he doubted not, but the like had been attempted within the king of England his majesty's dominions; but to see so open and manifest blasphemy to be openly punished, according to their traitorous deserts, notwithstanding I saw but small redress."

[128] The twentieth of October, A. D. 1527. The embassadors were the Maréchal de Montmorency, the Bishop of Bayonne, the President of Rouen, and Monsieur d'Humieres.

[129] The book of ceremonies (compiled under the influence of the Bishops Gardiner and Tonstall, and in opposition to that of Cranmer, about the year 1540, and designed to retain in the church many operose and superstitious rites, by setting them off with the aids of a philosophical and subtle interpretation), describing in succession the different parts of the Canon of the Mass, proceeds thus, "Then saith the priest _thrice_, _Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, &c._ advertising us of _three_ effects of Christ's passion; whereof the _first_ is, deliverance from the misery of sin; the _second_ is from pain of everlasting damnation; wherefore he saith twice _Miserere nobis_, that is to say, _Have mercy on us_; and the _third_ effect is, giving of everlasting peace, consisting in the glorious fruition of God." _Strype's Ecclesiastical Memorials_, Vol. i. p. 289. Records. See also _Mirror of our Lady_. fol. 189, and _Becon's Works_. Vol. iii. fol. 49. A. D. 1564. _W._

[130] These cupboards or rather sideboards of plate were necessary appendages to every splendid entertainment. The form of them somewhat resembled some of the old cumbrous cabinets to be found still in ancient houses on the continent. There was a succession of step-like stages, or desks, as Cavendish calls them, upon which the plate was placed. The reader will have a better conception than description can convey of this piece of antient ostentation, from a print in a very curious work by Julio Bello, entitled LAUREA AUSTRIACA: _Francof._ 1627, folio, p. 640. Where our King James I. is represented entertaining the Spanish ambassadors in 1623.

[131] _Proface._ An expression of welcome equivalent to Much good may it do you! Mr. Steevens conjectured it to be from the old French expression, '_Bon prou leur face_,' which is to be found in Cotgrave _in voce_ PROU. This was a happy conjecture of Mr. Steevens, for Mr. Nares has pointed out its true origin in the old Norman-French or Romance language: 'PROUFACE souhait qui veut dire, bien vous fasse, _proficiat_.' ROQUEFORT. _Glossaire de la Langue Romane._

[132] 'Mademoiselle de Boulan à la fin y est venue, et l'a le Roy logée en fort beau logis, qu'il a fait bien accoustrer tout auprès du sien, et luy est la cour faicte ordinairement tous les jours plus grosse que de long temps ne fut faicte à la Royne.'

_Lettre de l'Evesque de' Bayonne._

[133] It is a question of fact which has been warmly debated, whether the suffrages of the Universities in Henry's favour were purchased by money. It does not seem very necessary that _we_ should enter into this dispute. But any one who wishes so to do, may consult _Burnet's Hist. of the Reformation_, Vol. iii. p. 401, Appendix. _Harmer's Specimen of Errors_, p. 7. _Fiddes's Life of Wolsey_, p. 420. _Poli Epistolæ_, Vol. i. p. 238. A. D. 1744. _W._

[134] Eight of these determinations soon after were printed in one volume, with a long Discourse in support of the judgments contained in them, under the following title: "The Determinations of the moste famous and moste excellent Universities of Italy and Fraunce, that it is so unlefull for a man to marry his Brother's Wyfe, that the Pope hath no power to dispence therewith: imprinted by Thomas Berthelet the viith day of Novembre, 1531." They were also published in Latin: in which language they are exhibited by Bishop Burnet in his _Hist. of the Reformation_, Vol. i. book ii. No. 34. Records. _W._

[135] i. e. the _Bulla_ or Papal seal. The passage marked with * * contains three words which I could not decipher.

[136] Doctor _Stephen_ Gardiner, afterwards Bishop of Winchester, at this time in great estimation with Wolsey. In letters and other documents of this period he is often called Doctor _Stevens_. Mr. Grainger in the third vol. of Bishop Burnet's Hist. of the Reformation, p. 385, Appendix, intimates that this was a colloquial vulgarism; "_vulgarly_, as Stephen Gardiner was Mr. _Stevyns_, in Wolsey's Letter." But it is questionable, I think, whether this is the true account of that name. The bishop himself, in his Declaration of his Articles against George Joye, A. D. 1546, fol. 3. b. of the 4to edition, thus speaks of it, "a booke, wherein he wrote, how Doctor _Stevens_ (by _whiche name_ I was _then_ called) had deceyved him."

In Doctor Barnes' account of his examination before the bishops at Westminster, he calls Gardiner "Doctor Stephen then secretary."

[137] The reader may consult Burnet's Hist. of the Reformation, Vol. iii. p. 46-48. The bishop affirms positively that the king did not appear personally, but by proxy; and that the queen withdrew after reading a protest against the competency of her judges. "And from this it is clear (says the bishop), that the speeches that the historians have made for them are all plain falsities." It is easy to contradict the confident affirmation of the historian upon the authority of a document published by himself in his Records, i. 78. It is a letter from the king to his agents, where he says: "At which time both we and the queen appeared in person, and they minding to proceed further in the cause, the queen would no longer make her abode to hear what the judges would fully descern, but incontinently departed out of the court; wherefore she was thrice preconnisate, and called eftsoons to return and appear; which she refusing to do, was denounced by the judges _contumax_, and a citation decerned for her appearance on Friday." Which is corroborated also by _Fox's Acts_, p. 958. Indeed the testimony for the personal appearance of the king before the cardinals is surprisingly powerful; even though we do not go beyond Cavendish, and the other ordinary historians. But in addition to these, Dr. Wordsworth has produced the authority of William Thomas, Clerk of the Council in the reign of King Edward VI, a well informed writer; who, in a professed Apology for Henry VIII, extant in MS. in the Lambeth and some other libraries, speaking of this affair affirms, "that the Cardinal (Campeggio) caused the king as a private party in person to appear before him, and the Lady Katharine both." P. 31.

[138] Hall has given a different report of this speech of the queen's, which he says was made _in French_, and translated by him, as well as he could, from notes taken by Cardinal Campeggio's secretary. In his version she accuses Wolsey with being the first mover of her troubles, and reproaches him, in bitter terms, of pride and voluptuousness: such harsh language could hardly deserve the praise '_modeste tamen eam locutum fuisse_,' given by Campeggio.

[139] See _Neve's Animadversions on Phillips's Life of Cardinal Pole_, p. 62.

[140] Nothing of this kind is to be found in the journal of this embassy, or in the letters of the bishop and his companions, which have been preserved, and many of which have been published by _Le Grand, Histoire du Divorce de Henri VIII._

[141] "In a Manuscript Life of Sir Thomas More, written not many years after Longland's death, this account is given. 'I have heard Dr. Draycot, that was his (Longland's) chaplain and chancellor, say, that he once told the bishop what rumour ran upon him in that matter; and desired to know of him the very truth. Who answered, that in very deed he did not break the matter after that sort, as is said: but the king brake the matter to him first; and never left urging him until he had won him to give his consent. Of which his doings he did forethink himself, and repented afterward.' MSS. Coll. Eman. Cantab." Baker's Notes on _Burnet's Hist. of the Reformation_: in Burnet, Vol. iii. p. 400, Appendix. The same Life is among the MSS. in the Lambeth Library, No. 827, (see fol. 12), and, I have reason to think, was composed about the year 1556, and by Nicolas Harpsfield. From these concurrent testimonies it should appear, that the charge which has been often urged against Wolsey, that it was through his intrigues that Longland first suggested his scruples to the king, is unfounded. _W._

Wolsey was at the time loudly proclaimed as the instigator of the divorce, and though he denied it upon some occasions, he admitted it on others; but Cardinal Pole asserts that it was first suggested by certain divines whom Anne Boleyn sent to him for that purpose. It is remarkable that he says this when writing to the king, and would surely not have ventured to say so if he had not had good grounds for the assertion.

[142] July, 1529.

[143] This determination of Campeggio was in consequence of secret instructions from the pope (unknown to Wolsey), at the instance of the emperor, who had prevailed upon the pontiff to adjourn the court and remove the cause to Rome.

[144] These proceedings led the way to the next great step in the progress of the Reformation, the renunciation of the pope's authority, and the establishment of the regal supremacy. The following account, from an unpublished treatise, of the manner in which these questions were first brought to the king's mind (whether authentic or not) may not be unacceptable to my readers.

"Now unto that you say, that because Pope Clement would not dispense with his second matrimonie, his majestie extirped out of England the papal authoritie, a thinge of most auncient and godly reverence as you take it, I aunsweare that after the kinges highness had so appeared in person before the Cardinal Campegio, one of the princes of his realm, named the _Duke of Suffolk_, a great wise man, and of more familiaritie with the kinge than any other person, asked his majestie, 'how this matter might come to passe, that a prince in his own realme should so humble himself before the feet of a vile, strange, vitious priest,' (for Campegio there in England demeaned himself in very deed most carnally -- --). Whereunto the king aunswered, "he could not tell; but only that it seemed unto him, the spiritual men ought to judge spiritual matters; and yet as you saye (said the king) me seemeth there should be somewhat in it, and I would right gladly understand, why and how, were it not that I would be loth to appeare more curious than other princes." "Why, sir (sayd the duke), your majestie may cause the matter to be discussed secretly by your learned men, without any rumour at all." "Very well (sayd the kinge), and so it shall be." And thus inspired of God, called he diverse of his trusty and great doctours unto him; charging them distinctly to examine, _what lawe of God should direct so carnal a man as Campegio, under the name of spiritual, to judge a king in his owne realme_. According unto whose commandment, these doctors resorting together unto an appointed place, disputed this matter _large et stricte_, as the case required. And as the blacke by the white is knowen, so by conferring the oppositions together, it appeared that the evangelical lawe varied much from the canon lawes in this pointe. So that in effect, because two contraries cannot stand _in uno subjecto, eodem casu et tempore_, they were constrained to recurre unto the kinges majesties pleasure, to knowe whether of these two lawes should be preferred: who smiling at the ignorance of so fonde a question aunsweared, that the Gospell of Christ ought to be the absolute rule unto all others; commanding them therefore to followe the same, without regard either to the civile, canon, or whatsoever other lawe. And here began the quicke: for these doctours had no sooner taken the Gospel for their absolute rule, but they found this popish authoritie over the kinges and princes of this earth to be usurped." _William Thomas's Apology for King Henry the Eighth_, written A. D. 1547. p. 34. Lambeth Library. MSS. No. 464. _W._

[145] The history and occasion of this great obligation of the Duke of Suffolk to the cardinal, who plainly intimates that but for his interposition the duke must have lost his life, does not appear to be known to the historians. See _Fiddes's Life of Wolsey_. p. 454. _W._

A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1755 (Dr. Pegge), who appears to have paid much attention to the Cardinal Wolsey's history, suggests that Wolsey was the means of abating the anger of Henry at the marriage of Suffolk with his sister Mary Queen of France, which might have been made a treasonable offence. A letter from Mary to Wolsey, dated March 22, 1515, after her marriage with Suffolk, which is still extant in the Cotton Collection, gives some probability to this conjecture.

[146] i. e. Dr. Stephen Gardiner.

[147] i. e. The season of hunting, when the hart is in _grease_ or full season. Dr. Wordsworth's edition and the more recent manuscripts read--'all _that_ season.'

[148] The following additional particulars of the route are found in more recent MSS. "And were lodged the first night at a towne in Bedfordshire, called Leighton Bussarde, in the parsonage there, being Mr. Doctor Chambers's benefice, the kings phisitian. And from thence they rode the next day."

[149] The king had listened to their suggestions against the cardinal, and they felt assured of success; they are represented by an eyewitness, as boasting openly that they would humble him and all churchmen, and spoil them of their wealth: "La faintaisie de ces seigneurs est, que lui mort ou ruiné ils déferrent incontinent icy l'estat de l'eglise, et prendront tous leurs biens; qu'il seroit ja besoing que je le misse en chiffre, car ils le crient en plaine table."

_L'Evesque de Bayonne, Le Grand_, Tom. iii. p. 374.

[150] "Le pis de son mal est, que Mademoiselle de Boulen a faict promettre à son Amy qu'il ne l'escoutera jamais parler; car elle pense bien qu'il ne le pourroit garder d'en avoir pitié."

_Lettre de l'Eveque de Bayonne ap. Le Grand_, Tom. iii. p. 375.

The manor of THE MOOR was situate in the parish of Rickmansworth, in Hertfordshire; the site is still called Moor Park. It was purchased and the house built by George Neville, Archbishop of York. Edward the fourth had promised to make that prelate a visit there, and while he was making suitable preparations to receive his royal master he was sent for to Windsor, and arrested for high treason. The king seized at the Moor all his rich stuff and plate to the value of 20,000_l._ keeping the archbishop prisoner at Calais and Hammes. _Stowe_, A^o. 1472. There was a survey of the house in 1568, by which it appears the mansion was of brick, the chief buildings forming a square court, which was entered by a gate-house with towers: the whole was moated. It was then in a dilapidated state.

[151] "Le Cardinal Campège est encores à Douvres, et à ceste heure (je) viens d'entendre que, soubz couleur de faute de Navires, on ne le veult laisser passer, sans y prendre avis, de paeur qu'il n'emporte le thrésor du Card. d'Yorc."

_Lettre de l'Evesque de Bayonne, apud Le Grand Hist. du Divorce._

[152] The Term then began the ninth of October.

[153] Esher.

[154] The Eighteenth November, 1529.

[155] This inventory is preserved among the Harleian MSS. No. 599.

[156] These words follow in the more recent MSS. "Yet there was laide upon every table, bokes, made in manner of inventories, reporting the number and contents of the same. And even so there were bokes made in manner of inventories of all things here after rehearsed, wherein he toke great paines to set all things in order against the king's comming."

[157] Baudkyn, cloth made partly of silk and partly of gold. Derived from _Baldacca_, an Oriental name for Babylon, being brought from thence.--"_Baldekinum_--pannus omnium ditissimus, cujus, utpote stamen ex filio _auri_, subtegmen ex _serico_ texitur, plumario opere intertextus." _Ducange Glossar. in voce._ It sometimes is used for a _canopy_ or _cloth of state_.

[158] The name of Cardinal Wolsey's fool is said to have been "Master Williams, otherwise called Patch." An inquiry into this very curious feature in the domestic manners of the great in ancient times could not fail to be very interesting. Mr. Douce has glanced at the subject in his Illustrations of Shakspeare; and gave his friends reason to hope for a more enlarged inquiry at a future period: it would afford me real pleasure to hear that his intentions were not finally abandoned.

[159] The Bishop of Bayonne, who paid him a visit of commiseration at this period, gives the following affecting picture of his distress, in a most interesting letter which will be found in the Appendix; he says: "J'ay esté voir le Cardinal en ses ennuis, où que j'y ay trouvé _le plus grand example de fortune qu' on ne sçauroit voir_, il m'a remonstré son cas en la plus mauvaise rhétorique que je vis jamais, _car cueur et parolle luy falloient entièrement_; il a bien pleuré et prié que le Roy et Madame voulsissent avoir pitié du luy--mais il m'a à la fin laissé sans me povoir dire austre chose qui vallist mieux que son visage; qui est bien dechue de la moitié de juste pris. Et vous promets, Monseigneur, que sa fortune est telle que ses ennemis, encores qu'ils soyent Anglois, ne se sçauroyent garder d'en avoir pitié, ce nonobstant ne le laisseront de le poursuivre jusques au bout." He represents him as willing to give up every thing, even the shirt from his back, and to live in a hermitage if the king would desist from his displeasure.

[160] Dr. Wordsworth's edition and the later manuscripts read: "_which had bine a strange sight in him afore_;" but this can hardly be right? The splendour of Cromwell's subsequent fortunes, their tragical close, and the prominent figure he makes in the events of this reign, which are among the most important of modern history, gives this circumstantial account a great degree of interest. His father was a blacksmith at Putney, the son was first an agent to an English factory at Antwerp, then a trooper in the Duke of Bourbon's army, and was present at the sacking of Rome. It appears that he assisted Mr. Russell (afterwards Earl of Bedford), in making his escape from the French at Bologna, and it is probably to this circumstance that he owed the friendly offices of that gentleman at a subsequent period. After passing some time in the counting-house of a Venetian merchant, he returned to England and studied the law. Wolsey, it appears, first met with him in France, and soon made him his principal agent in the dissolution of monasteries and the foundation of his colleges. It was a trust which he discharged with ability, and is said to have enriched himself; yet he here complains that he "never had any promotion at the cardinal's hands to the increase of his living." And he tells the cardinal in his troubles, that "the soliciting his cause hath been very chargeable to him, and he cannot sustain it any longer without other respect than he hath had heretofore." He says, "I am a thousand pounds worse than I was when your troubles began." And after announcing the king's determination to dissolve the cardinal's colleges, he says: "I intreat your grace to be content, and let your prince execute his pleasure."

Cardinal Pole relates that he openly professed to him his Machiavelian principles; he had learned, he said, "that vice and virtue were but names, fit indeed to amuse the leisure of the learned in their colleges, but pernicious to the man who seeks to rise in the courts of princes. The great art of the politician was, in his judgment, to penetrate through the disguise which sovereigns are accustomed to throw over their real inclinations, and to devise the most specious expedients by which they may gratify their appetites without appearing to outrage morality or religion." He shared largely in the public odium in which the cardinal was held, and Pole, who was then in London, says that the people loudly clamoured for his punishment.

[161] The day after it appears Cromwell was at court, and sought an audience from the king, which was granted him; Cardinal Pole, who had the account from Cromwell himself and others who were present, relates that upon this occasion Cromwell suggested to the king a mode of overcoming the difficulty of the pope's opposition to the divorce, by taking the authority into his own hands, and declaring himself head of the church within his own realm. The king gave ear to the proposition, and was so well pleased with Cromwell, that he thanked him, and admitted him to the dignity of a privy counsellor. This was the first step; to carry into effect this project his assistance was deemed necessary, and he arrived at length to the highest honours of the state; but at last became the victim of his own Machiavelian intrigues, and the vindictive spirit of the monarch. It has been doubted whether Cromwell deserves the credit of attachment to his fallen master to the whole extent which some writers have supposed. It is evident, from the very interesting conversation above, that he despaired of ever seeing Wolsey reinstated in his fortunes, and he was too subtle in his policy to have endeavoured to swim against the stream of court favour. That the cardinal suspected his fidelity to his cause is evident from fragments of two letters published by Fiddes among Mr. Master's collections, in one of which Cromwell says: "I am informed your grace hath me in some diffidence, as if I did dissemble with you, or procure any thing contrary to your profit and honour. I much muse that your grace should so think or suspect it secretly, considering the pains I have taken, &c. Wherefore I beseech you to speak without faining, if you have such conceit, that I may clear myself; I reckoned that your grace would have written plainly unto me of such thing, rather than secretly to have misrepresented me. But I shall bear your grace no less good will. Let God judge between us! Truly your grace in some things overshooteth yourself; there is regard to be given to what things you utter, and to whom."

The cardinal, in answer to this, protests: "that he suspects him not, and that may appear by his deeds, so that he useth no man's help nor counsel but his. Complaint indeed hath been made to him, that Cromwell hath not done him so good offices as he might concerning his colleges and archbishoprick; but he hath not believed them; yet he hath asked of their common friends how Cromwell hath behaved himself towards him; and to his great comfort hath found him faithful. Wherefore he beseecheth him, with weeping tears, to continue stedfast, and give no credit to the false suggestions of such as would sow variance between them, and so leave him destitute of all help."

But the testimony of Cavendish in his favour is conclusive; he says that, by reason of "his honest behaviour in his master's cause, he grew into such estimation in every man's opinion, that he was esteemed to be the most faithfullest servant to his master of all other, wherein he was of all men greatly commended."

[162] In _prease_, i. e. the _press_ or _crowd_.

[163] A writer before cited (Dr. Pegge), is of opinion that the House of Commons could not do otherwise than acquit him, notwithstanding the validity of several of the articles alleged against him, because he had either suffered the law for them already, or they were not sufficiently proved: indeed some of them were not proper grounds of censure.

'Wolsey says of these articles himself, "whereof a great part be untrue: and those which be true are of such sort, that by the doing thereof no malice or untruth can be arrected unto me, neither to the prince's person nor to the state." The rejection of the bill may be justly ascribed to the relentment of the king, for Cromwell would not have dared to oppose it, nor the Commons to reject it, had they not received an intimation that such was the royal pleasure.'

[164] During the visit of the Emperor Charles V. to Henry VIII. "on Monday at nine of the clocke at night, was begun a banquet, which endured till the next morning at three of the clocke, at the which banquet the emperor, the king, and the Queene did wash together, the Duke of Buckingham giving the water, the Duke of Suffolke holding the towel. Next them did washe _the Lord Cardinall_, the Queene of Fraunce, and the Queene of Arragon. At which banquet the emperor kept the estate, the king sitting on the left hand, next him the French Queene; and on the other side sate the Queene, _the Cardinall_, and the Queene of Aragon; which banquet was served by the emperor's owne servants." _Stowe's Annals_, p. 510. edit. 1615. _W._

[165] This instrument is published by Fiddes in his Collections, p. 224.

[166] The anguish and anxiety he suffered may be seen by the letters written at this period to his old servants Cromwell and Gardiner; I have placed them in the Appendix, as a necessary illustration of this affecting picture.

[167] In an extract from a letter to Cromwell, published by Fiddes, the cardinal says: "My fever is somewhat asswaged, and the black humour also, howbeit I am entering into the kalends of a more dangerous disease, which is the dropsy, so that if I am not removed into a dryer air, and that shortly, there is little hope." And in a letter to Gardiner, which will be found in the Appendix, he repeats his wish to be removed from Asher: "Continuing in this moiste and corrupt ayer, beyng enteryd in the passion of the dropsy, _Appetitus et continuo insomnio_, I cannot lyve: wherfor of necessyte I must be removed to some dryer ayer and place."

[168] _Stuff_ was the general term for all kind of _moveables_ or baggage. See the instrument of the king's benefaction to the cardinal after his forfeiture by the premunire, in Rymer's Fœdera, and in Fiddes' Collections. The reader will find the _Schedule_ which was affixed to it, in our Appendix.

[169] "From the old gallery next the king's lodging, unto the first gatehouse." _Wordsworth's Edition._

[170] "Of four thousand marks," say the more recent MSS. and Dr. Wordsworth's Edit.

[171] Those to whom they were granted appear to have been the Lord Sandys and his son Thomas; Sir William Fitzwilliam, Sir Henry Guilford, Sir John Russel, and Sir Henry Norris. This suit to the cardinal seems to have been successfully brought about. Their pensions out of the revenues of the see of Winchester were settled on them for life by Act of Parliament, notwithstanding the just objection in the text. Rot. Parl. clxxxviii. Stat. 22 Hen. VIII. c. 22.

[172] From the Ital. _intagliare_, to cut, carve, &c.

[173] _Prêt, Somme prêtée._ Fr. A sum in advance. _W._

[174] "His train was in number one hundred and threescore persons." This addition is in Dr. Wordsworth's edition and the later MSS.

[175] He was now fifty-nine years old.

[176] The book of Ceremonies before cited, which was compiled in the reign of Henry VIII. observes: "Upon Easter Day in the morning _the ceremonies_ of the _resurrection_ be very laudable, to put us in remembrance of Christ's resurrection, which is the cause of our justification." _Strype's Eccles. Memorials_, v. i. p. 294. _Records._ What these ceremonies were we may collect from the Rubrics upon that day, in the _Processionale secundum usum Sarum_. fol. 72. edit. 1555; which are to this effect: On Easter Day, before mass, and before the ringing of the bells, let the clerks assemble, and all the tapers in the church be lighted. Then two persons shall draw nigh to the sepulchre, and after it is censed let them take the cross out of the sepulchre, and one of them begin _Christus resurgens_. Then let the procession commence. After this they shall all worship (_adorent_) the cross. Then let all the crucifixes and images in the church be unveiled, &c. &c. In like manner Good Friday also had its peculiar ceremonies. Bishop Longland closes his sermon preached on that day before King Henry VIII. A. D. 1538, in the following manner: "In meane season I shall exhorte you all in our Lord God, _as of old custome hath here this day bene used_, every one of you or ye departe, with moost entire devocyon, knelynge tofore our Savyour Lorde God, this our Jesus Chryst, whiche hath suffered soo muche for us, to whome we are soo muche bounden, _whoo lyeth in yonder sepulchre_; in honoure of hym, of his passyon and deathe, and of his five woundes, to say five Pater-nosters, five Aves, and one Crede: that it may please his mercifull goodness to make us parteners of the merites of this his most gloryous passyon, bloode, and deathe." _Imprynted by Thomas Petyt._ See also Michael Wood's _Dialogue or Familiar Talks_. A. D. 1554. Signat. D. 3. _W._

[177] See above, page 158, Dr. Wordsworth's note.

[178] In Mr. Ellis's very interesting collection of Historical Letters, vol. i. p. 176, there is an extract of a letter from Sir William Fitzwilliams, then on a mission in France, relating a conversation he had with the French king upon his hearing the Duke of Buckingham was in the Tower. With the Cardinal's answer.

[179] The favourable representation given of this portion of the cardinal's life, notwithstanding what is said by Fox, p. 908, is fully confirmed by an authority which cannot be suspected of partiality to his memory, that of a State Book, which came out from the office of the king's printer in the year 1536, intituled _A Remedy for Sedition_. "Who was lesse beloved in the Northe than my lord cardynall, God have his sowle, before he was amonges them? Who better beloved, after he had ben there a whyle? We hate oft times whom we have good cause to love. It is a wonder to see howe they were turned; howe of utter enemyes they becam his dere frendes. He gave byshops a ryght good ensample, howe they might wyn mens hartys. There was few holy dayes, but he would ride five or six myle from his howse, nowe to this parysh churche, nowe to that, and there cause one or other of his doctours to make a sermone unto the people. He sat amonges them, and sayd masse before all the paryshe. He sawe why churches were made. He began to restore them to their ryght and propre use. He broughte his dinner with hym, and bad dyvers of the parish to it. He enquired, whether there was any debate or grudge betweene any of them; yf there were, after dinner he sente for the parties to the churche, and made them all one. Men say well that do well. Godde's lawes shal never be so set by as they ought, before they be well knowen." Signat. E. 2. _W._

[180] In the more recent MS. and in Dr. Wordsworth's edition, "Newsted Abbey."

[181] Next, _i.e._ nearest.

[182] The prevailing hour of dinner with our ancestors appears to have been much earlier. In the Northumberland Household Book it is said, "to X of the clock that my lord goes to dinner."

"With us," says Harrison, in the Description of England, prefixed to Holinshed's Chronicle, p. 171, "the Nobilitie, Gentrie, and Students do ordinarilie go to dinner at eleven before noone, and to supper at five, or betweene five and six at afternoone. The merchants dine and sup seldome before twelve at noone, and six at night, especiallie in London. The husbandmen dine also at high noone, as they call it, and sup at seven or eight: but out of the tearme in our Universities the scholars dine at ten. As for the poorest sort, they generally dine and sup when they may: so that to talke of their order of repast, it were but a needlesse matter."

"_Theophilus._ You wente to diner betyme I perceave. _Eusebius._ Even as I doe commonly, when I have no busynes, betwene nyne and ten; me thinkes it is a good houre: for by that meanes I save a breakfast, whyche for such idlers as I am, is most fittest." _Dialogue between Eusebius and Theophilus._ Signat. B 4. A. D. 1556. _W._

[183] Dr. Brian Higden at that time bore the office.

[184] The Cardinal perhaps remembered the credit which was gained by his successful rival Cardinal Adrian, who being elected to the papacy by the Conclave, through the influence of the emperor Charles V. "before his entry into the cittie of Rome (as we are told by one of Sir Thomas More's biographers), putting off his hose and shoes, and as I have credibly heard it reported, bare-footed and bare-legged, passed through the streets towards his Palace, with such humbleness, that all the people had him in great reverence." Harpsfield's _Life of Sir Thomas More_. Lambeth MSS. No. 827, fol. 12. _W._

[185] Storer, in his Poetical Life of Wolsey, 1599, has availed himself of this declaration of the cardinal, in a passage justly celebrated for its eminent beauty. The image in the second stanza is worthy of a cotemporary of Shakspeare:

I did not mean with predecessors pride, To walk on cloth as custom did require; More fit that cloth were hung on either side In mourning wise, or make the poor attire; More fit the dirige of a mournful quire In dull sad notes all sorrows to exceed, For him in whom the prince's love is dead.

I am the tombe where that affection lies, That was the closet where it living kept; Yet wise men say, Affection never dies;-- No, but it turns; and when it long hath slept, Looks heavy, like the eye that long hath wept. O could it die, that were a restfull state; But living, it converts to deadly hate.

[186] Dr. Percy, in the notes to the Northumberland Household Book, has adduced a very curious extract from one of the letters of this Earl of Northumberland, which he thinks affords a "full vindication of the earl from the charge of ingratitude in being the person employed to arrest the cardinal." However this may be, the earl appears to have felt the embarrassment of his situation; he trembled, and with a faltering voice could hardly utter the ungracious purport of his mission. To a mind of any delicacy the office must have been peculiarly distressing, and even supposing the earl to have been formerly treated in an arbitrary and imperious manner by the cardinal, it is one which he should have avoided. As the letter gives a very curious picture of the manners as well as the literature of our first nobility at that time, I shall place it in my appendix; the very curious volume in which it is to be found being of great rarity and value.

[187] "In the houses of our ancient nobility they dined at long tables. The Lord and his principal guests sate at the upper end of the first table, in the Great Chamber, which was therefore called the Lord's Board-end. The officers of his household, and inferior guests, at long tables below in the hall. In the middle of each table stood a great salt cellar; and as particular care was taken to place the guests according to their rank, it became a mark of distinction, whether a person sate above or below the salt."--_Notes on the Northumberland Household Book_, p. 419.

[188] The enemies of Archbishop Laud, particularly in the time of his troubles, were fond of comparing him with Cardinal Wolsey: and a garbled edition of this life was first printed in the year 1641, for the purpose of prejudicing that great prelate in the minds of the people, by insinuating a parallel between him and the cardinal. It is not generally known that, beside the edition of this life then put forth, a small pamphlet was also printed with the following title, "A true Description or rather Parallel betweene Cardinall Wolsey, Archbishop of York, and William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1641." As it is brief, and of extreme rarity, I shall give it a place in the Appendix.

[189] "But what he did there, I know not." The more recent MS. and Dr. Wordsworth's edition have this reading.

[190] The words which follow, I apprehend, are part of some ecclesiastical hymn. It was not unusual to attribute the name of _Scripture_ to all such compositions; and to whatever was read in churches. "Also I said and affirmed" (the words are part of the recantation of a Wickliffite), "that I held no _Scripture_ catholike nor holy, but onely that is contained in the Bible. For the legends and lives of saints I held hem nought; and the miracles written of hem, I held untrue." Fox's _Acts_, p. 591. _W._

[191] "I know not whether or no it be worth the mentioning here (however we will put it on the adventure), but Cardinal Wolsey, in his life time was informed by some fortune-tellers, _that he should have his end at Kingston_. This, his credulity interpreted of Kingston on Thames; which made him alwayes to avoid the riding through that town, though the nearest way from his house to the court. Afterwards, understanding that he was to be committed by the king's express order to the charge of Sir Anthony [William] Kingston (see Henry Lord Howard in his Book against Prophecies, chap. 28, fol. 130), it struck to his heart; too late perceiving himself deceived by that father of lies in his homonymous prediction." Fuller's _Church History_. Book v. p. 178. _W._

[192] _where_ for _whereas_.

[193] In the old garbled editions the passage stands thus: "But alas! I am a diseased man, having a fluxe (at which time it was apparent that _he had poisoned himself_); it hath made me very weak," p. 108, edit. 1641. This is a most barefaced and unwarranted interpolation. The words do not occur in any of the MSS. Yet the charge of his having poisoned himself was repeated by many writers among the reformers without scruple. See Tindall's _Works_, p. 404. _Supplications to the Queen's Majesty_, fol. 7. A. D. 1555. Fox's _Acts_, p. 959.

[194] "This is an affecting picture," says a late elegant writer. "Shakspeare had undoubtedly seen these words, his portrait of the sick and dying Cardinal so closely resembling this. But in these words is this chronological difficulty. How is it that Hardwick Hall is spoken of as a house of the Earl of Shrewsbury's in the reign of Henry VIII, when it is well known that the house of this name between Sheffield and Nottingham, in which the Countess of Shrewsbury spent her widowhood, a house described in the Anecdotes of Painting, and seen and admired by every curious traveller in Derbyshire, did not accrue to the possessions of any part of the Shrewsbury family till the marriage of an earl, who was grandson to the cardinal's host, with Elizabeth Hardwick, the widow of Sir William Cavendish, in the time of Queen Elizabeth?--The truth however is, that though the story is told to every visitor of Hardwick Hall, that "the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey," slept there a few nights before his death; as is also the story, perhaps equally unfounded, that Mary Queen of Scots was confined there; it was _another_ Hardwick which received the weary traveller for a night in this his last melancholy pilgrimage. This was Hardwick-upon-Line in Nottinghamshire, a place about as far to the south of Mansfield as the Hardwick in Derbyshire, so much better known, is to the north-west. It is now gone to much decay, and is consequently omitted in many maps of the county. It is found in Speed. Here the Earl of Shrewsbury had a house in the time of Wolsey. Leland expressly mentions it. "The Erle [of Shrewsbury] hath a parke and manner place or lodge in it called Hardewike-upon-Line, a four miles from Newstede Abbey." Itin. vol. v. fol. 94, p. 108. Both the Hardwicks became afterwards the property of the Cavendishes. Thoroton tells us that Sir Charles Cavendish, youngest son of Sir William, and father of William Duke of Newcastle, "had begun to build a great house in this lordship, on a hill by the forest side, near Annesly-wood-House, when he was assaulted and wounded by Sir John Stanhope and his men, as he was viewing the work, which was therefore thought fit to be left off, some blood being spilt in the quarrel, then very hot between the two families.--_Thoresby's Edit. of Thoroton_, vol. ii. p. 294."--WHO WROTE CAVENDISH'S LIFE OF WOLSEY? p. 18.

[195] Mr. Douce has pointed out a remarkable passage in Pittscottie's History of Scotland (p. 261, edit. 1788,) in which there is a great resemblance to these pathetic words of the cardinal. James V. imagined that Sir James Hamilton addressed him thus in a dream. "Though I was a sinner against God, I failed not to thee. Had I been as good a servant to the Lord my God as I was to thee, I had not died that death."

[196] In the yeare 1521, the cardinal, by virtue of his legatine authority, issued a mandate to all the bishops in the realme, to take the necessary means for calling in and destroying all books, printed or written, containing any of the errors of Martin Luther: and further directing processes to be instituted against all the possessors and favourers of such books, heresies, &c. The mandate contained also a list of forty-two errors of Luther. See Wilkins's _Concilia_, vol. iii. p. 690-693; and Strype's _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. i. p. 36-40. _W._

[197] To administer the _extreme unction_. "The _fyfth sacrament_ is anoyntynge of seke men, the whiche oyle is halowed of the bysshop, and mynystred by preestes to them that ben of lawfull age, in grete peryll of dethe: in lyghtnes and abatynge of theyr sikenes, yf God wyll that they lyve; and in forgyvynge of theyr venyal synnes, and releasynge of theyr payne, yf they shal deye." _Festival_, fol. 171. _W._

[198] He died Nov. 29, 1530. Le Neve's _Fasti_, p. 310.

According to the superstitious credulity of that age, the death of Wolsey was said to have been preceded by a portentous storm. See LETTERS FROM THE BODLEIAN, Vol. ii. page 17. In a letter from Dr. Tanner to Dr. Charlett, dated Norwich, Aug. 10, 1709, is the following passage:

"On the other side is a coeval note at the end of an old MS. belonging to our cathedral, of the odd exit of the great Cardinal Wolsey, not mentioned, I think, in Cavendish, or any of the ordinary historians,--much like Oliver's wind.

"Anno Xti, 1530, nocte immediate sequente quartum diem Novemb. vehemens ventus quasi per totam Angliam accidebat, et die proximè sequente quinto sc. die ejusdem mensis circa horam primam post meridiem captus erat Dūus Thomas Wulsye Cardinalis in ædibus suis de Cahow [Cawood] infra Diocesam suam Eboracensem; et postea in itinere ejus versus Londoniam vigilia St. Andreæ prox. sequente apud Leycestriam moriebatur, quo die ventus quasi Gehennalis tunc fere per totam Angliam accidebat, cujus vehementia apud Leystoft infra Dioc. Norwicensem et alibi in diversis locis infra Regnum Angliæ multæ naves perierunt."

_Ad finem Annalium Bartholomæi Cotton. MS. in Biblioth. Eccl. Cath. Norwic. habetur hæc notata._

[199] The excellent author of the dissertation on this life doubted whether this passage was not an interpolation, because "Wolsey is spoken of in terms so different from those used in other parts of the book." But it is only a proof of the integrity of the biographer, whose upright heart and devout catholic spirit would not conceal the truth.

[200] This passage follows in the more recent MSS. "riding that same day, being Wednesday, to Northampton; and the next day to Dunstable; and the next day to London; where we tarried untill St. Nicholas Even, and then we rode to Hampton Court."

[201] Here is another addition, in the more recent MSS. to the following effect: "Who hath gotten diverse other rich ornaments into his hands, the which be not rehersed or registered in any of my lords books of inventory, or other writings, whereby any man is able to charge him therewith, but only I."

ADDITIONAL NOTES TO THE LIFE OF WOLSEY.

PAGE 95. The Letter of Anstis, referred to in the note, is addressed to Fiddes, and is printed in his Collections. It relates to a rude representation of the House of Lords in the reign of King Henry VIII. but that learned herald and antiquary has made it the vehicle of some observations, which may not be misplaced here.

"Almost every action of Wolsey hath been interpreted as an instance of pomp, ambition, or insolence; notwithstanding, probably, upon a strict examination, most of them will be found to be strictly precedented. This particular of _two crosses_ gave Polydore Virgil an opportunity of making an uncharitable reflection: "Non contentus unâ cruce, qua utebatur, quod Archiepiscopus esset Eboracensis, alteram præ se ferri voluit, per duos sacerdotes statura elegantes, et equis magnis insidentes, qui aperto capite, quocunque anni tempore incederent. Nunc plane constat Wolsæum suæ sibi conscium esse culpæ, qui propterea binas in pompa habet cruces, quod una non satis foret ad ejus expianda commissa." Anstis then cites the passage from Roy's satire, which he mistakingly attributes to Skelton; and proceeds thus: "Here is a long catalogue, and yet possibly not one particular is singular to the cardinal. For the same honours, according to the known customs of Rome, were to be paid to every Legate _de Latere_ as to the sovereign pontiff himself: Nay, he might of right use all papal ensigns and ornaments, for which Parisius (De Resignat. L. 7. qu. 13. n. 6 et 7) produces the vouchers."

"I know not what was the figure of the _pillars_ here mentioned; but it was not an unusual ensign, because Chaucer, in the Plowman's Tale, v. 2044, setting forth the duty of a clergyman, says thus:

And usin none yerthly honours, Ne croune, ne curious covertours, Ne _pillar_, ne other proud pall, &c.

According to the present customs in this country, no one will charge the cardinal's riding on a mule to be a mark of his insolence or haughtiness, neither was it any testimony of his humility, but a usage of his age, in correspondence to the ancient practice of clergymen, who esteemed it unbecoming them to ride upon a horse, when our Saviour rode on the foal of an ass. Thus St. Basil on Psalm 32, _Exclusus est ab usu sanctorum equus_. And here I cannot forbear from diverting you with the odd simplicity of the style wherein Peraldus (Summæ de Superbia, tom. 2) expresses himself on this occasion: "Christus nunquam equitavit, tantum semel asinavit, atque adeo neque mulavit, neque palafredavit, neque dromedariavit." His sentiment was as of some other rigid disciplinarians at that time, that the clergy should travel on foot. It is well known that our judges, till the first year of Queen Mary, rode always to Westminster on mules, (v. Dugdal. Orig. Juridic. p. 38). Christopher Urswicke, who had been Dean of Windsor, in his will made 10 Oct. 1521, devises to Mr. Cuthbert Tunstall, Maister of the Rolls, "his gowne of blacke furred with martron, his typpet of sarcenet furred with sables, and his little _mule_ with saddle and bridle and all hir harneys." (Lib. Mainwaryng, in Cur. Prærog.) And upon the motive of an affected humility it doubtless was that John de Beverle, in his will dated 1380, "Volo quod corpus meum sit ductum ab hospitio meo per duos asinos, si possint inveniri." (Registr. Beckingham Episcopi Lincoln.) The sumptuary law for apparel, 24 Hen. 8. c. 13, prohibits all persons to wear upon their horse, _mule_, or other beast, any silk of purpure, &c. Of the custom of the clergy, see Bede Eccles. Hist. 1. 3, c. 14, and 1. 4, c. 3: and that they first began to ride on mares, 1. 2, c. 13, unless there be some error in the print. As to Cardinals, David Chambre, in his History of the Popes abridged, acquaints us that Innocent IV. gave them liberty to ride on horseback, and that Pope Clement V. ordained they should ride upon asses, according to the example of our Saviour.

But these rich trappings and housings of the cardinal's mule may give offence; herein he could justify himself by an especial privilege to those of his degree:--_Equitare mulas phaleratas, et clavam argenteam ante se deferre_ (Cohelii Notitia Cardinalatus, p. 28). Here then is a poleaxe or mace also, and the same author, p. 30, acquaints us that in the Roman court the cardinals "dum equitant _mulas_, præmittunt apparitores cum argenteis _clavis_ et _bulgis_ ab acupictoribus gentilitiis insignibus auro et argento redimitis, necnon famulos duos pedissequos (parafrænarios vocant) baculis duobus innixos."

Page 137. The circumstances attending the interception of De Praet's dispatches, mentioned in the note, are thus related in a letter of Wolsey's to Mr. Sampson, printed in the Appendix to Galt's Life of Wolsey, p. clv. No. vi. 4to. 1812.

"It hath bene of a long season, and from sundry parts, reported unto the king's hignes and to me at divers times, that Mon^{sr} de Praet, who resideth here ambassador for the emperor, hath continually bene a man disposed and inclined to make, in his letters and writings, both to the emperor and the Lady Margaret, seditious and sinister reports; saying many times, upon his own fantasie, suspicion, and conjecture, things clearly untrue, and compassing at other times, when things have been done, sayd, or set forth, frendly, kindlie, and lovinglie, soe to cowch his reports, and the circumstances of the doings thereof, as though the gratuities shewed by the king's highnes, have from time to time been conduced by the industrie, pollicy, and labour of the sayd ambassadors; ascribing, therefore, the laude and thank therof unto himself, wherby he might acquire the more grace and favor of the sayd emperor and Lady Margaret. To these things the kings highnes and I were not over hasty to give soone creddence; but supposing the sayd ambassador to be a p^rsonage of more vertue and inclinacion to good then now he proveth to be, I would some times admonish him, in general words of such advertisement; exhorting and advising him to be well ware how he, being a minister betwene two princes so neerly conjoined in intelligence, should attempt or doe any thing to the hinderance thereof; but rather, regarding the office of a good ambassador to doe that in him is for the nourishing and increase of the same. Wherein he alwayes made me such answere that I conceaved noe further suspicion or jealousy towards him in that behalfe; being therefore the more franke and plaine with him in all my conferences, as he, that for the singuler good mind which I have alwayes borne unto the emperors honor, weale, and suretie, would procede with his majestie, sincerelie, plainely, and truelie. And as familiarly, kindly, and lovinglie hath the kings highnes and I admitted, entertayned, and used the sayd de Praet at all times, as the most hearty love betwene the kings highnes and his majestie doth require, making him privie, and having him present, at all such comunicacions and accesses have bene of other princes ambassadors, or of any matter worthy advertisement or knowledge, to the intent that he should make most credible and plaine relacion thereof unto th'emperor and other to whom it appertained."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * He then relates, that upon one occasion he sent for the ambassador "to make him participant of such newes as the kings highnes and I had received, as also to understand whether he had any good newes in confirmation of the same." And after a long communication, he "seeming to be joyous and well contented, giving me thanks on the emperors behalfe, departed."

"Three days before that, as many times is here accustomed, it was appointed that, as that night following, which was the xj^{th} day at night, a privie watch should be made in London, and by a certaine cercoute and space about it: in the which watch was taken, passing between London and Brainford, by certaine of the watch appointed to that quarter, one ryding towards the said Brainford; who, examined by the watch, answered soe closely, that upon suspicion thereof they searched him, and found seacretly hid about him a little pacquet of letters, subscribed in French, which the sayd watch p^rceaving, brought the letters unto a man of lawes clarke, being of the same company; who, supposing the bearer of them to be either a spie or a messenger from some merchant, stranger, or other, intendinge to disclose things unto the emperor, and p^rceaving the sayd pacquet to be in the taking of it, by the unlearned men of the watch, broken and evil handled, looked in the letters. And thinking the same, by reason of the ciphers, more suspect, brought it unto the king's solicitor, being in the same watch; who not acquainted with the name of the sayd de Praet, brought the letters soe opened unto Sir Thomas Moore, being in another watch neere unto the same; and he presented them, in the morning following, unto me, being in the chancery at Westminster; which, when I had read, knowing how farr the effect of them was discrepant from the truth, anon I conceived the former adv^rtisements made unto me touching the said ambassadors accustomed usage in making sinister reports, to be true. And p^rceyving by the sayd letters, that albeit the usage is not here that strangers should passe through the realme without a passport, yet one of the foulkes was depeched by the sayd ambassador the day before with letters towards Spaine,--wherin it was like there might be as evill or worse report then in these, I with all diligence sent to countermande the sayd former letters, or any other depeched at that time by the sayd ambassador. And soe was taken also a pacquet of his letters directed to my Lady Margaret, which original letters directed unto th'emperor, with copies of those addressed unto my Lady Margaret, viewed and overlooked, and the untruth mencioned in them deprehended, I send unto your hands herewith, as well because th'emperor may know such things as his folkes on this side doe advertise his majestie of, which may conferr to the furtherance of his affaires; as also, because the same may hereby the more assuredlie and p^rfectlie understand and p^rceave that the sayd de Praet hath of lykelyhood contrived noe few matters untrue and fayned in his letters sent of a long season, as well into Spayne as into Flanders. Wherof there is much apparance, by reason of such proceeding, strange demeanour, and suspicion, as hath seemed to have bene had towards the kings grace, both on that side and in Flanders of a good season, soe that it is evident to be conjectured that the sayd de Praet hath done more hurt, detriment, and damage, by his evil reports in the comon affaires, then ever he can be able to reduble or amend; and surely has by the same deserved much more blame than I will reherse." He then enters into detail of the misrepresentations of De Praet, who, he says, would have long since been denounced to the emperor as "a man of insufficient qualities, inexpert and far unmeet to be ambassador from so great a prince," had it not been out of courtesy to that potentate and his council. And further, that "De Praet being not a little abashed, ne without cause, made first exception at the intercepting of his letters, as he would not give credence to the manner of their interception, and the opening of them by a fortunate error, as is aforesayd, saying that ambassadors doe write unto their princes that which in their conceipt is thought good, referring the judgment unto others. He affirmed also, that till this time it could not ne should be ever found in any of his letters, that he hath made evill report either of the king's highnes or of me, as by his original letters, which he sayd he desired and would be gladd should and might be showed, he would be judged, and that the cause and occasion moving him thus to write at this time, was only the being here of John Joachym by viij moneths, the difficulty made to condescend unto the truce proposed at Rome, the not advancing of an army on this side, as was spoken of, and the refusal of the kings highnes to contribute any thing to the defence of Italy."

To this Wolsey states the long and circumstantial answer he gave, in which he asserts that he was not privy to Joachinos coming, and that it was some time after his arrival that he disclosed to him what he was, and that as soon as he discovered himself to be sent from the Lady Regent, he made de Praet privy thereto, praying him to advertise the Lady Margaret and the emperor, as he also would do and did.

To this he states 'that De Praet could make no other answer than that he wrote his fantasy, and remitted the judgment to wiser men.' The whole letter is well worth attention as an example of Wolsey's talent in diplomacy; and though his apology is not very convincing, it must be confessed to be very skilful and ingenious.

FINIS.

APPENDIX.

EXTRACTS FROM THE LIFE OF THE VIRTUOUS CHRISTIAN AND RENOWNED QUEEN ANNE BOLEIGNE.

BY GEORGE WYATT, ESQ.

WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

FROM THE MANUSCRIPT COLLECTIONS OF THE REV. JOHN LEWIS.

Great princes favourites their fair leaves spread, But as the marigold at the sun's eye; And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die.

SHAKSPEARE.

_Among the other calumnies with which the memory of the unfortunate Queen Anne Boleyn has been aspersed by the enemies of the Reformation, it has been said--"that she had long carried on a criminal intercourse with Sir Thomas Wyatt the poet; who, we are told, had gone so far as to confess to the king that he had debauched her; and had urged this, in the first instance, as an argument to dissuade the king from marrying her." The story requires no refutation; but Wyatt's name having been called in question when Anne Boleyn's conduct was scrutinized, gave the forgers of fabulous history an opportunity of engrafting their libellous inventions on slight circumstances, in order to give them something of the colour of probability. How far there was any foundation for these calumnies will now appear. The following interesting pages were written, it is presumed, by the grandson of the poet, George Wyatt, Esquire, sixth son and heir of Sir Thomas Wyatt the younger, who was beheaded for rebellion in the first year of the reign of Queen Mary. The writer died at the advanced age of eighty, at Boxley in Kent, in the year 1624, and seems to have meditated a complete exposure of such parts of Saunders' Book on the Reformation as came within his own immediate knowledge. He was maternal uncle to Sir Roger Twysden, and in 1623 communicated to him part of his collections. A fragment of the Life of Cardinal Wolsey, by George Cavendish, was in the late Mr. Bindley's library, to which we have already referred, at p. 120 of the present edition; prefixed to which was the following note by Sir Roger Twysden.-- "I receaved this from my uncle Wyatt, Anno 1623, who beeing yonge had gathered many notes towching this lady, not without an intent to have opposed Saunders." It is remarkable that this fragment from Wolsey's Life has been twice printed as a piece of original and authentic cotemporary history, without suspicion of its being an extract from Cavendish;--the first time for private distribution, in 1808, and secondly by Dr. Nott, in his appendix to Wyatt's Poems, in 1816._

_The manuscript from which the present very interesting memoir is printed was purchased at the late Sir Peter Thompson's sale. It is in the hand writing of the Rev. John Lewis, of the Isle of Thanet, the celebrated antiquary. It was printed in 1817 for a few noblemen and gentlemen, but twenty-seven copies only having been taken off, may be considered still to have almost the rarity of a manuscript._

SOME PARTICULARS OF THE LIFE OF QUEEN ANNE BOLEIGNE.

The peculiar means that I have had, more than others, to come to some more particular knowledge of such things as I intend to handle, ought to draw thus much from me; yet much more the request of him that hath been by authority set on work in this important business, both for the singular gifts of God in him, of wisdom, learning, integrity, and virtue; and also the encouragement I have had of late from the right reverend my Lord of Canterbury's grace, to set down what understanding I have had of this matter, is both my warrant, and a bond the more upon my conscience, to hold me urged and constrained not to neglect such an opportunity of my service to the church, my prince, and country. Principally his desire was, and my purpose in satisfying it, to deliver what I knew, touching certain things that happened to the excellent lady, the LADY ANNE BOLEIGNE, about the time of her first coming to the court. Yet, considering I had some other knowledge of things that might be found serviceable no less than that, and also might give light and life to the faithful narration of this whole matter, I have supposed it would fall best, to deliver the same, as it were, under the description of her whole life; and this the more particularly and frankly, that, all things known, those that I understood were to visit it again might take what they should think most material for their use. And would to God I could give that grace and felicity of style unto it that the worthiness of the subject doth require, notwithstanding that in this regard I am the less carefull, for that it is to pass through their hands that can give it better vesture; and I shall the more turn my care to intend the sincere and faithful delivery of that which I have received from those that both were most likely to come to the most perfect knowledge hereof, and had least cause or, otherwise for themselves, could least give just reason of suspicion to any, either of mind, or partiality, or wit, to fayne or misreport any whit hereof. And, indeed, chiefly the relation of those things that I shall set down is come from two. One a lady[202], that first attended on her both before and after she was queen, with whose house and mine there was then kindred and strict alliance. The other also a lady of noble birth, living in those times, and well acquainted with the persons that most this concerneth, from whom I am myself descended. A little, therefore, repeating the matter more high, I will derive the discourse hereof from the very spring and fountains, whence may appear most clearly by what occasion and degrees the stream of this whole cause hath grown to such an ocean as it were of memorable effects through all our parts of Christendom, not by chance or wits of men so much as even by the apparent work of God, as I hope presently to make plain to all men.

The see of _Rome_ having risen, in this our age, unto a full tide of all wickedness, had overflowed all these parts of the world with the floods of her evils, whereby was occasioned and had beginning the ebb of all her pomp, power, and glory, every particular devising, as if it had been by one consent and accord (so showing it the more apparently to come of God), to provide for the time to come against her so great inundation of mischiefs. Hereof, in _England_, _Germany_, _Italy_, and in many other places, sundry persons of singular learning and piety, one succeeding another, at divers times, opened their mouths as trumpets to call men to this work upon several occasions, all rising from the outrageous corruptions and foaming filth of that see. But chiefly and most notoriously, in the time of Henry the Eighth, of famous memory, this came to pass by the just judgment of God upon her, and his mercy upon us, where the same polity by which she had in custom, and then made herself most assured, to strengthen herself in giving to princes licence to unlawful contracts (esteeming thereby to tie them and their issue the more strongly to her); the bond of so evil counsel breaking suddenly, set at liberty the certain means of this great opposition against her after almost through all Europe. So little assurance especially have evil foundations of usurped authorities against the provoked judgments of God by sin, and general displeasure of man upon just conceived indignities.

There was, at this present, presented to the eye of the court the rare and admirable beauty of the fresh and young Lady Anne Boleigne, to be attending upon the queen. In this noble imp, the graces of nature graced by gracious education, seemed even at the first to have promised bliss unto her aftertimes. She was taken at that time to have a beauty not so whitely as clear and fresh above all we may esteem, which appeared much more excellent by her favour passing sweet and cheerful; and these, both also increased by her noble presence of shape and fashion, representing both mildness and majesty more than can be expressed. There was found, indeed, upon the side of her nail upon one of her fingers, some little show of a nail, which yet was so small, by the report of those that have seen her, as the workmaster seemed to leave it an occasion of greater grace to her hand, which, with the tip of one of her other fingers, might be and was usually by her hidden without any least blemish to it. Likewise there were said to be upon some parts of her body certain small moles incident to the clearest complexions. And certainly both these were none other than might more stain their writings with note of malice that have caught at such light motes in so bright beams of beauty, than in any part shadow it, as may right well appear by many arguments, but chiefly by the choice and exquisite judgments of many brave spirits that were esteemed to honour the honourable parts in her, even honoured of envy itself.

Amongst these, two were observed to be of principal mark. The one was _Sir Thomas Wiat_, the elder[203], the other was the king himself. The knight, in the beginning, coming to behold the sudden appearance of this new beauty, came to be holden and surprised somewhat with the sight thereof; after much more with her witty and graceful speech, his ear also had him chained unto her, so as finally his heart seemed to say, _I could gladly yield to be tied for ever with the knot of her love_, as somewhere in his verses hath been thought his meaning was to express[204]. She, on the other part, finding him to be then married, and in the knot to have been tied then ten years, rejected all his speech of love; but yet in such sort as whatsoever tended to regard of her honour, she showed not to scorn, for the general favour and good will she perceived all men to bare him, which might the rather occasion others to turn their looks to that which a man of his worth was brought to gaze at in her, as, indeed, after it happened. The king is held to have taken his first apprehension of this love after such time as upon the doubt in those treaties of marriage with his daughter Mary, first with the Spaniard, then with the French: by some of the learned of his own land he had vehemently in their public sermons, and in his confessions to his ghostly fathers, been prayed to forsake that his incestuous life by accompanying with his brother's wife; and especially after he was moved by the cardinal, then in his greatest trust with the king, both for the better quietness of his conscience, and for more sure settling of the succession to more prosperous issue.

About this time, it is said that the knight, entertaining talk with her as she was earnest at work, in sporting wise caught from her a certain small jewel hanging by a lace out of her pocket, or otherwise loose, which he thrust into his bosom, neither with any earnest request could she obtain it of him again. He kept it, therefore, and wore it after about his neck, under his cassock, promising to himself either to have it with her favour or as an occasion to have talk with her, wherein he had singular delight, and she after seemed not to make much reckoning of it, either the thing not being much worth, or not worth much striving for. The noble prince having a watchful eye upon the knight, noted him more to hover about the lady, and she the more to keep aloof of him; was whetted the more to discover to her his affection, so as rather he liked first to try of what temper the regard of her honour was, which he finding not any way to be tainted with those things his kingly majesty and means could bring to the battery, he in the end fell to win her by treaty of marriage, and in this talk took from her a ring, and that wore upon his little finger; and yet all this with such secrecy was carried, and on her part so wisely, as none or very few esteemed this other than an ordinary course of dalliance. Within few days after, it happened that the king, sporting himself at bowls, had in his company (as it falls out) divers noblemen and other courtiers of account, amongst whom might be the Duke of Suffolk, Sir F. Brian, and Sir T. Wiat, himself being more than ordinarily pleasantly disposed, and in his game taking an occasion to affirm a cast to be his that plainly appeared to be otherwise; those on the other side said, with his grace's leave, they thought not, and yet, still he pointing with his finger whereon he wore her ring, replied often it was his, and specially to the knight he said, Wiat, I tell thee it is mine, smiling upon him withal. Sir Thomas, at the length, casting his eye upon the king's finger, perceived that the king meant the lady whose ring that was, which he well knew, and pausing a little, and finding the king bent to pleasure, after the words repeated again by the king, the knight replied, And if it may like your majesty to give me leave to measure it, I hope it will be mine; and withal took from his neck the lace whereat hung the tablet, and therewith stooped to measure the cast, which the king espying, knew, and had seen her wear, and therewithal spurned away the bowl, and said, It may be so, but then am I deceived; and so broke up the game. This thing thus carried was not perceived for all this of many, but of some few it was. Now the king, resorting to his chamber, showing some discontentment in his countenance, found means to break this matter to the lady, who, with good and evident proof how the knight came by the jewel, satisfied the king so effectually that this more confirmed the king's opinion of her truth than himself at the first could have expected. Shortly, upon the return of the cardinal, the matter of the dutchess[205] cooling every day more and more, his credit also waned till it was utterly eclipsed; and that so busied the great personages that they marked the less the king's bent, the rather for that some way it seemed helpful to their working against the cardinal. The king also took here opportunity to proceed to discover his full and whole meaning unto the lady's father, to whom we may be sure the news was not a little joyful.

All this notwithstanding, her virtue was not so dased with the glory of so forcible attractives, but that she stood still upon her guard, and was not, as we would suppose, so easily taken with all these appearances of happiness; whereof two things appeared to be the causes. One the love she bare ever to the queen whom she served, that was also a personage of great virtue: the other her conceit that there was not that freedom of conjunction with one that was her lord and king as with one more agreeable to her estate. These things being well perceived of, the queen shew she knew well to frame and work her advantage of, and therefore the oftener had her at cards with her, the rather also that the king might have the less her company, and the lady the more excuse to be from him; also she esteem herself the kindlier used, and yet withal the more to give the king occasion to see the nail upon her finger. And in this entertainment of time they had a certain game that I cannot name then frequented, wherein dealing, the king and queen meeting they stopped, and the young lady's hap was much to stop at a king; which the queen noting, said to her playfellow, My Lady Anne, you have good hap to stop at a king, but you are not like others, you will have all or none. So often earnest matters are delivered under game. Yet had the king his times, and she in the end yielded to give her consent of marriage to him, whom hardly ever any before was found able to keep their hold against. This was now so far to the pleasure of the king, that forthwith he with her and her father concluded to open the matter to the council, all other things being ripe thereunto, and specially for that it was not possible to keep it any longer from the talk of men near his person, and the more, the queen being found to take such knowledge thereof. It is thought then the table was diversely carried to give opinion upon this matter; some of the nobility wishing rather to have had so good hap lighted to some of their own houses; others that it had not been at all; some inclining to either of these as depending on them; but most liked better the king's own choice, both for the hope of issue, and that the greatness of great men should not grow too great to sway with in managing of matters of state. But howsoever, it appeared manifestly that presently there were practices discovered on all sides under sundry arts, on the parts of Spain, from Rome and that faction, and from the queen herself, and specially some with the king, some with the lady herself, plotted to break or stay at the least till something might fall between the cup and the lip, that might break all this purpose with one of them, if it might have been. And verily one of these may seem for this present occasion not unmeet to be recounted; which was this: There was conveyed to her a book pretending old prophecies, wherein was represented the figure of some personages, with the letter H upon one, A upon another, and K upon the third, which an expounder thereupon took upon him to interpret by the king and his wives, and to her pronouncing certain destruction if she married the king. This book coming into her chamber, she opened, and finding the contents, called to her maid of whom we have spoken before, who also bore her name: "Come hither, Nan," said she, "see here a book of prophecy; this he saith is the king, this the queen, mourning, weeping and wringing her hands, and this is myself with my head off." The maid answered, "If I thought it true, though he were an emperor, I would not myself marry him with that condition." "Yes, Nan," replied the lady, "I think the book a bauble; yet for the hope I have that the realm may be happy by my issue, I am resolved to have him whatsoever might become of me."

The Romish fable-framer[206], if he may be believed, affirmeth another practice after this sort: "That Sir Thomas Wiat coming to the council, for his better security, confessed to have had dealings with that lady, before he had any perceiving of the king's purpose of marriage; but not being credited by the king, that Wiat, as not finding it well he was not believed, affirmed he would bring the king where he might see him enjoy her. And that again being delivered by the Duke of Suffolk to the king, he yet believed it not." But it is certain that the whole or greatest part of this is fiction; for the persons, manner, and event of these things have been utterly mistaken and misshapen. For I have heard by the report of one of right good and honourable account, and of much understanding in such things, who also hath the truth of his word in high respect, that it was Sir Francis Brian that confessed such a like thing to the king by another lady, with other success more likely, which was that the king thereupon pardoned _him_ indeed, but rejected and gave over the lady ever after to him. Whether the duke might, upon the sight of that which happened at bowls, take any occasion with the king to dissuade the marriage, supposing the knight could not or would not otherwise have cleared himself and the lady, but by confessing and craving pardon for it as done before he had knowledge of the king's intention, I cannot say; and by guess I will not affirm it in any case of any, much less of so worthy and noble a personage. Only this I say, that if he did so, I believe verily that he was greatly deceived therein of his expectation; as finding that by good proof the knight could clear himself and her of that matter, even to the full assuring and ascertaining of the king of the manner of his coming by the jewel without her dishonour, and that so the duke, if he did so, might come to find himself had gone too far, as to have purchased to himself thereby mislike both of the king and queen, whereupon he might turn his heavy displeasure to the knight ever after. I know of a certainty, that the knight had a most high opinion of that princely lady's noble virtues as by trial, and chiefly in the matter of the bowls; in that she took not or interpreted ill of his deed (as herself, being in her own conscience clear), but as he meant it to the king's disport before knowledge of the marriage. This is true also, that Sir Thomas Wiat was twice sifted and lifted at, and that nobleman both times his most heavy adversary, as I have to show under the knight's own hand in his answer to his last indictment. Neither could I ever learn what might be the cause of his so perpetual grudge, save only that it appeareth to be as old as this. Some man might perhaps be led to think that the duke might have a special end to draw him to enter and venture so far to the breaking off the match. And it is true that he was then married with the king's second sister, when the king had then remaining but one only daughter, and then she also questioned whether legitimate: That then also was procured a statute to cut off foreign titles; and it is true also, that after the ambition of some to occasion hereby to thrust the duke's issue, even before the proper and lawful issue of the king, into the regal seat. All this notwithstanding, I will never be induced to give that opinion of that nobleman, but rather I would think, if he did any such thing, in any sort giving colour to this fancy of the Roman legender, he did it upon zeal that in his conceit it was true, and that he thought the knight would so far confess it as done before talk of the king's marriage, when he saw he had passed so far in the measuring of the cast. And though the whole fiction have scarcely so much as shadow of colour of any appearance, yet for that part where he deviseth that Sir Thomas should before the council apeach himself and that lady, or after not being credited, offer to make the king see him to have to do with her, this showing itself sufficiently falsified to any wise and understanding reader, especially considering it particularly with the circumstances, it is so far from all likelihood, as all presumptions are flat against it, as in a word or two shall now be showed.

For that princely lady, she living in court where were so many brave gallants at that time unmarried, she was not like to cast her eye upon one that had been then married ten years. And her parents, then in good and honourable place, resident in court, and themselves of no mean condition, they would keep, no doubt, a watchful eye over her to see she should not roam to the hinderance of her own preferment, a course so foul with one where was no colour of marriage. The King's eye also was a guard upon her, as also those that pleased the king in recounting the adventures of love happening in court made it hard, specially for the shortness of time after her placing there, and the king's own love. Also she that held out against such a king where was hope of marriage, what was like she should do to the knight, where his own lady and her friends were still to attend upon their doings, whose testimonies of the honourable carriage of that lady are therefore here most strong for her? And for the knight, if he had enjoyed her, was he so far desperately wicked and a monster in love, that he would openly, purposely, and to his own disgrace, vaunt the spoil of a maid of so good friends and likelihoods of advancements, without all regard of God or man? especially when she had stood so well upon the assurance of her own innocence for the matter of the jewel without turning him to any displeasure thereby. Those that knew him best, knew him far from that dishonest disposition chiefly in this kind, and for so gross a villany. And if he had been of that mind, yet was he known not of so little wit or understanding, upon a point that was not very likely to be known, to discover his own and her evil; where was a great deal more likelihood that, the king believing her rather than him, he was to incur a more certain and greater mischief, that might in all presumption, fall by the heavy displeasure of them both upon himself ever after. And if we could imagine him both so wretchedly dishonest, and so very a sot (neither of which could be found of him), his father then counsellor to the king, for his wisdom, years, and experience, more grave, would not have suffered him yet to quit himself so fondly and to be so mad; especially as when the king had showed not to believe it, then to run more obstinately to offer when the king had made her privy hereunto, to bring her that the king should see her also so mad as to yield to him after she had given consent of marriage to the king. Who would not believe them also mad, that would believe so mad a carriage of such a business amongst grave and wise men, howsoever the railing Romanist be so mad to write it so as he would seem mad with reason? For the king also, besides that he had more occasion and means than any other to note and observe her doings, yet much more (as the nature of generous spirits carries them) he was watchful upon the knight, as in other things so chiefly in this, not to be outrun at this garland of love; so as by himself and by the eyes of others, there was not any trip but would have been spied, no likelihood but would have carried suspicion with it; how much more would the knight's confession have sunk into his head? Would he, being so wise a prince, have forgotten that the soberness of his choice would serve much for satisfying the world, touching his divorce? Had he not time, had he not leisure to learn, to inquire and sift out all things? His care used in gathering opinions of universities, and in informing princes of the whole matter, with all circumstances in the managing this cause, by the space of some years, show he was not so passionate a lover, but also withal a wise and considerate prince. But it is said the king believed it not! Yet what? when the knight (as this tale saith) offered to make the king see it, and that avowed to the council! Could such a prince as he swallow this? Doubtless none that hath his wits will think so, none that knew the complexion of the king could induce himself to suppose a thing so incredible. The case of Sir Francis Brian's[207] opening of his love had another effect, and shows plainly that the king was of another metal, since he cast off that Lady loved right dearly (as hath been said) without farther matter. And doubtless in this case, he believing the matter would have thrown off this lady also, the marriage not yet consummate, and he having in his own realm and abroad beauties enough to content him, and means enough also to push on some other. But it is devised the king believed it not. Not believing it, think we the knight could have escaped punishment of a slanderer, though he might by confessing, avoid the punishment of a malefactor (as they say) after? This no outrageous madman would believe. If the king would or could have passed it over, the lady in honour could not, nor might. But suppose also that supposal beyond all suppose. Though they punished it not, would they, think ye, have put him in credit and advancement after? Would they have had him chief ewerer even the very day of her coronation? Would they have employed him ambassador in that matter of the marriage? Yea, I say more! would the king also have rewarded him with a good portion of lands soon upon this? But all these were so as we have alleged them. The Chronicles have his service on that day of coronation. His embassages were twice about this matter known right well: I have seen the patents of the grant myself[208]. And these things, the last especially, I the rather allege, for that the knight useth them himself as testimonies of the king's good opinion of him, in his defence before mentioned, which also by the king and his council in those times was liked and allowed of as his just purgation, by which they acquitted him. Finally, that his defence then may and is to be esteemed his defence now also in this case not to be contemned, and may thus be considered. This reporteth that he was twice winnowed. The matters were the same both times, the accusations so frivolous, the inducements and proofs so idle, that they prove nothing more than that there lacked no wills in his adversary to do him hurt, than that they had any least colour of matter to work it. Nothing so impertinent, nothing so unlikely that they allege not. Yea and his most trusty and best services they had the chief matters of their accusation, nothing was so fond that they ripped not up to his discredit, at the least if it might have been. Yet in all this was no word or signification of any such matter. Though it had not been brought as the ground of his accusation, would it not have been drawn forth to aggravate or induce the matter? Undoubtedly it would, either in the queen's life in his first trouble, and it would have done well to revenge if he had done her this wrong, or after to her overthrow, or else in his second trouble against him. But no one word is or was in it touching any such matters.

After so many cross billets of cunning polities, surmounted by the guiding providence of God, after so many trials of her truth, passed through by her wise and virtuous governance, the king having every way made so thorough proof how deep root honour had taken in her bosom, and having found it not to be shaken even by him, this royal and famous prince Henry the Eighth, resolving her matchless perfections meet alone to be joined with his, now at the length concluded forthwith to knit up this marriage, although for certain causes the same was thought more convenient to be performed somewhat privately and secretly. On the twenty-fifth of January[209], therefore, the ceremony was consummate. The king also, shortly after having himself more ascertained, and by more inward trial more assured of her spousal truth, would yet farther testify that his opinion of her, by giving her that highest honour he could give her virtues, in having her solemnly and royally crowned. And thus we see they lived and loved, tokens of increasing love perpetually increasing between them. Her mind brought him forth the rich treasures of love of piety, love of truth, love of learning. Her body yielded him the fruits of marriage, inestimable pledges of her faith and loyal love. And touching the former of these, it is here first not to be forgotten, that of her time (that is during the three years that she was queen) it is found by good observation, that no one suffered for religion, which is the more worthy to be noted for that it could not so be said of any time of the queens after married to the king. And amongst other proofs of her love to religion to be found in others, this here of me is to be added. That shortly after her marriage, divers learned and christianly disposed persons resorting to her, presented her with sundry books of those controversies that then began to be questioned touching religion, and specially of the authority of the pope and his clergy, and of their doings against kings and states. And amongst other, there happened[210] one of these, which, as her manner was, she having read, she had also noted with her nail as of matter worthy the king's knowledge[211]. The book lying in her window, her maid (of whom hath been spoken) took it up, and as she was reading it, came to speak with her one[212] then suitor to her, that after married her; and as they talked he took the book of her, and she withal, called to attend on the queen, forgot it in his hands, and she not returning in some long space, he walked forth with it in his hand, thinking it had been hers. There encountered him soon after a gentleman of the cardinal's of his acquaintance, and after salutations, perceiving the book, requested to see it, and finding what it was, partly by the title, partly by some what he read in it, he borrowed it and showed it to the cardinal. Hereupon the suitor was sent for to the cardinal and examined of the book, and how he came by it, and had like to have come in trouble about it, but that it being found to have pertained to one of the queen's chamber, the cardinal thought better to defer the matter till he had broken it to the king first, in which meantime the suitor delivered the lady what had fallen out, and she also to the queen, who, for her wisdom knowing more what might grow thereupon, without delay went and imparted the matter to the king, and showed him of the points that she had noted with her finger. And she was but newly come from the king, but the cardinal came in with the book in his hands to make complaint of certain points in it that he knew the king would not like of, and withal to take occasion with him against those that countenanced such books in general, and specially women, and as might be thought with mind to go farther against the queen more directly if he had perceived the king agreeable to his meaning. But the king that somewhat afore distasted the cardinal, as we have showed, finding the notes the queen had made, all turned the more to hasten his ruin, which was also furthered on all sides.

On the other part, of her body she bare him a daughter on the seventh[213] of September, to the great joy then of all his people, both for that the king had now issue legitimate of his own body, and for the hope of more after. The king also he expressed his joy for that fruit sprung of himself, and his yet more confirmed love towards her, caused her child openly and publickly to be proclaimed PRINCESS ELIZABETH at the solemnity of her baptising, preferring his younger daughter legitimate before the elder in unlawful wedlock. And after this again, at the prorogation of the parliament, the thirtieth of March[214], he had every lord, knight, and burgess sworn to an act of succession, and their names subscribed to a schedule fixed to the same statute, where it was enacted, that his daughter princess Elizabeth, he having none other heir male, should succeed him to the crown.

And after were commissioners sent to all parts of the realm to take the like oath of all men and women in the land. Neither also were her virtues only enclosed in her own breast or shut up in her own person. She had procured to her chaplains[215], men of great learning and of no less honest conversing, whom she with hers heard much, and privately she heard them willingly and gladly to admonish her, and them herself exhorted and encouraged so to do. Also at the first, she had in court drawn about her, to be attending on her, ladies[216] of great honour, and yet of greater choice for reputation of virtue, undoubted witnesses of her spousal integrity, whom she trained upon with all commendations of well ordered government, though yet above all by her own example she shined above them all, as a torch that all might take light of, being itself still more bright. Those that have seen at _Hampton Court_ the rich and exquisite works by herself, for the greater part wrought by her own hand and needle, and also of her ladies, esteem them the most precious furniture that are to be accounted amongst the most sumptuous that any prince may be possessed of. And yet far more rich and precious were those works in the sight of God which she caused her maids and those about her daily to work in shirts and smocks for the poor. But not staying here her eye of charity, her hand of bounty passed through the whole land; each place felt that heavenly flame burning in her; all times will remember it, no place leaving for vain flames, no times for idle thoughts. Her ordinary amounted to fifteen hundred pounds at the least, yearly, to be bestowed on the poor. Her provisions of stock for the poor in sundry needy parishes were very great. Out of her privy purse went not a little to like purposes. To Scholars in exhibition very much: so as in three quarters of a year her alms was summed to fourteen or fifteen thousand pounds.

She waxing great again and not so fit for dalliance, the time was taken to steal the king's affection from her, when most of all she was to have been cherished. And he once showing to bend from her, many that least ought shrank from her also, and some lent on the other side; such are the flexible natures of those in courts of princes for the most part. Unkindness grew, and she was brought abed before her time with much peril of her life, and of a male child dead born, to her greater and most extreme grief. Being thus a woman full of sorrow, it was reported that the king came to her, and bewailing and complaining unto her the loss of his boy, some words were heard break out of the inward feeling of her heart's dolours, laying the fault upon unkindness, which the king more than was cause (her case at this time considered) took more hardly than otherwise he would if he had not been somewhat too much overcome with grief, or not so much alienate. Wise men in those days judged that her virtues was here her default, and that if her too much love could, as well as the other queen, have borne with his defect of love, she might have fallen into less danger, and in the end have tied him the more ever after to her when he had seen his error, and _that_ she might the rather have done respecting the general liberty and custom of falling then that way. Certainly, from henceforth the harm still more increased, and he was then heard to say to her: he would have no more boys by _her_. Having thus so many, so great factions at home and abroad set loose by the distorned favour of the king, and so few to show themselves for her, what could be? what was otherlike but that all these guests lighting on her at once should prevail to overthrow her, and with her those that stood under her fall? She and her friends therefore were suddenly sent to the Tower: and this gracious queen coming unto the entry of the gate, she falling down upon her knees made that place a reverend temple to offer up her devout prayers, and as a bale there her soul beaten down with afflictions to the earth, with her faithful prayers bounded up to heaven. "O Lord," said she, "help me, as I am guiltless of this whereof I am accused." The time approached for the hearing of her cause. The place of her trial in the Tower may somewhat discover how the matter was liked to be handled. Nor there was it appointed the better to conceal the heinousness of the accusation, though that might be the pretence. For that was published in parliament that it might from thence spread abroad over all. Her very accusations speak and even plead for her; all of them, so far as I can find, carrying in themselves open proof to all men's consciences of mere matter of quarrel, and indeed of a very preparation to some hoped alteration. The most and chief of them showing to have come from _Rome_, that popish forge of cunning and treachery, as _Petrarch_ long since termed it.

_Nido di tradimenti in cui si cuova Quanto mal per lo mondo hoggi si spandi._

Nest of treasons in which is hatch'd and bred What ill this day the world doth overspread.

For that most odious of them, something is to be esteemed by the apparent wrongs of the other evil handling of matters. But for this thing itself, partly it is incredible, partly by the circumstances impossible. Incredible, that she that had it her word as it were, the spirit of her mind, as hath been said, that she was _Cæsar's_ all, not to be touched of others, should be held with the foul desire of her brother. Again, she having so goodly a prince to please her, who also had showed himself able to content more than one, that she should yet be carried to a thing so much abhorring even womanly years and to nature itself, much more to so christian a queen. Impossible, for the necessary and no small attendance of ladies ever about her, whereof some, as after appeared, even aspired unto her place and right in the king's love; yea, by manifest prevention before their time. And indeed, hereof, it was her very accusers found it impossible to have colour to charge her with any other than her brother, which also made it no less impossible even for him alike as other. Impossible, I say, because neither she could remove so great ladies, by office appointed to attend upon her continually, from being witnesses to her doings; neither for the danger she saw she stood in, and the occasion daily sought, would she for her own wisdom, and also by the advertisements of her kindred and followers, whereof she had many of most great understanding, experience, and faith, about her. Besides, she could not but be made more wary and wakeful, if for none other cause, yet even to take away all colour from her enemies, whose eyes were everywhere upon her to pick matter, and their malicious hearts bent to make some where they found none; as plainly enough was to be seen when they were driven to those straits to take occasion at her brother's more private being with her; the more grudged at perhaps, for that it might be supposed his conference with her might be for the breaking off the king's new love. For the evidence, as I never could hear of any, so small I believe it was. But this I say, well was it said of a noble judge of late, that "half a proof where nature leadeth was to be esteemed a whole proof." On the contrary, in this case he would have said, whole and very absolute proofs to have been needful in such a case against nature. And I may say, by their leaves, it seems themselves they doubted their proofs would prove their reproofs, when they durst not bring them to the proof of the light in open place. For this principal matter between the queen and her brother, there was brought forth, indeed, witness, his wicked wife accuser of her own husband, even to the seeking of his blood, which I believe is hardly to be showed of any honest woman ever done. But of her, the judgment that fell out upon her, and the just punishment by law after of her naughtiness, show that what she did was more to be rid of him than of true ground against him. And that it seemeth those noblemen that went upon the queen's life found in her trial, when it may appear plainly by that defence of the knight that oft hath been here mentioned, that the young nobleman the Lord Rochford, by the common opinion of men of best understanding in those days, was counted and then openly spoken, condemned only upon some point of a statute of words then in force. And this and sundry other reasons have made me think often that upon some clause of the same law they grounded their colour also against her, and that for other matters she had cleared herself well enough. It seemeth some great ones then had their hands in drawing in that law to entangle or bridle one another, and that some of them were taken in the same net, as good men then thought worthily. Surely my Lord Cromwell and this young lord were taken in those entanglements, and the knight himself, of whom is spoken, had hardly scaped it, as may appear by his defence, if he had not by the well delivering of the goodness of his cause broken through it. And this may well serve to admonish men to be well aware how far they admit of laws that shall touch life upon construction of words; or, at the least, admitting them, how far they leave to lawyers to interpret of them, and especially that thereby they give not excuse to juries to condemn the innocent when sway of time should thrust matters upon them. Thus was she put upon her trial by men of great honour; it had been good also if some of them had not been to be suspected of too much power and no less malice. The evidence were heard indeed, but close enough, as enclosed in strong walls. Yet, to show the truth cannot by any force be altogether kept in hold, some belike of those honourable personages there, more perhaps for countenance of others' evil than for means by their own authority to do good (which also peradventure would not have been without their own certain perils), did not yet forbear to deliver out voices that caused every where to be muttered abroad, that that spotless queen in her defence had cleared herself with a most wise and noble speech. Notwithstanding such a trial, such a judgment found her guilty, and gave sentence of death upon her at home, whom others abroad, living to feel her loss, found guiltless.

The woful sentence was given; burning or heading at the king's pleasure, leaving open some small place to pity for the kind of death, which the king's conscience (no doubt) moved him to take in appointing the more honourable death. Within those walls this execution was to be done. What needed that? The love known indeed to her by the people was not to be feared of the king, her love being such to him as to her last breath she stood to acquit and defend him by her words at her death, carrying a very true image of her former love and life. "Christian people!" said she, "I am come to die, and according to law, and by law I am judged to death, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak any thing of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die. But I pray God save the king, and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler and more merciful prince was there never, and to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. If any person will meddle of my cause, I require him to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord, have mercy on me! To God I commend my soul." And so she kneeling down said, "To Christ I commend my soul. Jesu, receive my soul!" The bloody blow came down from his trembling hand that gave it, when those about her could not but seem to themselves to have received it upon their own necks, she not so much as shrieking at it. God provided for her corpse sacred burial, even in place as it were consecrate to innocents.

END OF THE MEMOIR OF QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN.

_The following letters, relating to the arrest and behaviour in prison of Queen Anne Boleyn, are in themselves so interesting that no apology seems necessary for placing them in juxtaposition with the foregoing interesting memoir. They have been recently given to the public in Mr. Ellis's accurate and interesting collection of Historical Letters; that gentleman has preferred printing them as mutilated fragments, to supplying the_ lacunæ _by such means as I have ventured to adopt. Strype saw these letters previous to the calamitous fire in 1731, which injured so many valuable papers in the Cottonian Collection, and he has given large extracts from them of the most interesting passages: from this source, therefore, I have filled up such chasms as I could, that the reader may not be tantalized by the enigma-like appearance of a few disjointed words. The passages supplied have been carefully distinguished by printing them in Italics between brackets, and as Strype was a sufficiently accurate Antiquary, and faithful in his extracts, it is presumed that the reader may rely upon the authenticity of the passages thus supplied._

_The reader is already acquainted with the writer, Sir William Kingston, the Lieutenant or Constable of the Tower, from the figure he makes in the Life of Wolsey. See p. 369, et seq._