History of the Reformation, vol. 5

Chapter 11

Embarrassment of the Pope—The Triumphs of Charles decide him—He traverses the Cause to Rome—Wolsey’s Dejection—Henry’s Wrath—His Fears—Wolsey obtains Comfort—Arrival of the two Legates at Grafton—Wolsey’s Reception by Henry—Wolsey and Norfolk at Dinner—Henry with Anne—Conference between the King and the Cardinal—Wolsey’s Joy and Grief—The Supper at Euston—Campeggio’s farewell Audience—Wolsey’s Disgrace—Campeggio at Dover—He is accused by the Courtiers—Leaves England—Wolsey foresees his own Fall and that of the Papacy

While the court was thus taking its pleasure at Woodstock; Wolsey remained in London a prey to the acutest anguish. “This avocation to Rome,” wrote he to Gregory Da Casale, “will not only completely alienate the king and his realm from the apostolic see, but will ruin me utterly.” This message had hardly reached the pope, before the imperial ambassadors handed to him the queen’s protest, and added in a very significant tone: “If your holiness does not call this cause before you, the emperor, who is determined to bring it to an end, will have recourse to other arguments.” The same perplexity always agitated Clement: Which of the two must be sacrificed, Henry or Charles? Anthony de Leyva, who commanded the imperial forces, having routed the French army, the pope no longer doubted that Charles was the elect of Heaven. It was not Europe alone which acknowledged this prince’s authority; a new world had just laid its power and its gold at his feet. The formidable priest-king of the Aztecs had been unable to withstand Cortez; could the priest-king of Rome withstand Charles V? HRSCV5 845.4

Cortez had returned from Mexico, bringing with him Mexican chiefs in all their barbarous splendor, with thousands of pesos, with gold and silver and emeralds of extraordinary size, with magnificent tissues and birds of brilliant plumage. He had accompanied Charles, who was then going to Italy, to the place of embarkation, and had sent to Clement VII costly gifts of the precious metals, valuable jewels, and a troop of Mexican dancers, buffoons, and jugglers, who charmed the pope and the cardinal above all things. HRSCV5 846.1

Clement, even while refusing Henry’s prayer, had not as yet granted the emperor’s. He thought he could now resist no longer the star of a monarch victorious over two worlds, and hastened to enter into negotiations with him. Sudden terrors still assailed him from time to time: My refusal (he said to himself) may perhaps cause me to lose England. But Charles, holding him in his powerful grasp, compelled him to submit. Henry’s antecedents were rather encouraging to the pontiff. How could he imagine that a prince, who alone of all the monarchs of Europe had once contended against the great reformer, would now separate from the popedom? On the 6th of July, Clement declared to the English envoys that he avoked to Rome the cause between Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. In other words, this was refusing the divorce. “There are twenty-three points in this case,” said the courtiers, “and the debate on the first has lasted a year; before the end of the trial, the king will be not only past marrying but past living.” HRSCV5 846.2

When he learned that the fatal blow had been struck, Bennet, in a tone of sadness, exclaimed: “Alas! most holy father, by this act the Church in England will be utterly destroyed; the king declared it to me with tears in his eyes.”—“Why is it my fortune to live in such evil days?” replied the pope, who, in his turn, began to weep; “but I am encircled by the emperor’s forces, and if I were to please the king, I should draw a fearful ruin upon myself and upon the church God will be my judge.” HRSCV5 846.3

On the 15th of July, Da Casale sent the fatal news to the English minister. The king was cited before the pope, and in case of refusal condemned in a fine of 10,000 ducats. On the 18th of July, peace was proclaimed at Rome between the pontiff and the emperor, and on the next day (these dates are important) Clement, wishing still to make one more attempt to ward off the blow with which the papacy was threatened, wrote to Cardinal Wolsey: “My dear son, how can I describe to you my affliction? Show in this matter the prudence which so distinguishes you, and preserve the king in those kindly feelings which he has ever manifested towards me.” A useless attempt! Far from saving the papacy, Wolsey was to be wrecked along with it. HRSCV5 846.4

Wolsey was thunderstruck. At the very time he was assuring Henry of the attachment of Clement and Francis, both were deserting him. The “politic handling” failed, which the cardinal had thought so skillful, and which had been so tortuous. Henry now had none but enemies on he continent of Europe, and the Reformation was daily spreading over his kingdom. Wolsey’s anguish cannot be described. His power, his pomp, his palaces were all threatened; who could tell whether he would even preserve his liberty and his life.—A just reward for so much duplicity. HRSCV5 846.5

But the king’s wrath was to be greater than even the minister’s alarm. His terrified servants wondered how they should announce the pontiff’s decision. Gardiner, who, after his return from Rome, had been named secretary of state, went down to Langley on the 3rd of August to communicate it to him. What news for the proud Tudor! The decision on the divorce was forbidden in England; the cause avoked to Rome, there to be buried and unjustly lost; Francis I treating with the emperor; Charles and Clement on the point of exchanging at Bologna the most striking signs of their unchangeable alliance; the services rendered by the king to the popedom repaid with the blackest ingratitude; his hope of giving an heir to the crown disgracefully frustrated; and last, but not least, Henry VIII, the proudest monarch of Christendom, summoned to Rome to appear before an ecclesiastical tribunal it was too much for Henry. His wrath, a moment restrained, burst forth like a clap of thunder, and all trembled around him. “Do they presume,” he exclaimed, “to try my cause elsewhere than in my own dominions? I, the king of England, summoned before an Italian tribunal! Yes, I will go to Rome, but it shall be with such a mighty army that the pope, and his priests, and all Italy shall be struck with terror.—I forbid the commission to consider its functions at an end.” Henry would have desired to tear off Campeggio’s purple robes, and throw this prince of the Roman church into prison, in order to frighten Clement; but the very magnitude of the insult compelled him to restrain himself. He feared above all things to appear humbled in the eyes of England, and he hoped, by showing moderation, to hide the affront he had received. “Let everything be done,” he told Gardiner, “to conceal from my subjects these letters of citation, which are so hurtful to my glory. Write to Wolsey that I have the greatest confidence in his dexterity, and that he ought, by good handling, to win over Campeggio and the queen’s counsellors; and, above all, prevail upon them at any price not to serve these citatory letters on me.” But Henry had hardly given his instructions when the insult of which he had been the object recurred to his imagination; the thought of Clement haunted him night and day, and he swore to exact a striking vengeance from the pontiff. Rome desires to have no more to do with England… England in her turn will cast off Rome. Henry will sacrifice Wolsey, Clement, and the church; nothing shall stop his fury. The crafty pontiff has concealed his game, the king shall beat him openly; and from age to age the popedom shall shed tears over the imprudent folly of a Medici. HRSCV5 846.6

Thus after insupportable delays, which had fatigued the nation, a thunderbolt fell upon England. Court, clergy, and people, from whom it was impossible to conceal these great events, were deeply stirred, and the whole kingdom was in commotion. Wolsey, still hoping to ward off the ruin impending over both himself and the papacy, immediately put in play all that dexterity which Henry had spoken of; he so far prevailed that the letters citatorial were not served on the king, but only the brief addressed to Wolsey by Clement VII. The cardinal, all radiant with this trivial success, and desirous of profiting by it to raise his credit, resolved to accompany Campeggio, who was going down to Grafton to take leave of the king. When the coming of the two legates was heard of at court, the agitation was very great. The dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk regarded this proceeding as the last effort of their enemy, and entreated Henry not to receive him. “The king will receive him,” said some. “The king will not receive him,” answered others. At length, one Sunday morning, it was announced that the prelates were at the gates of the mansion. Wolsey looked round with an anxious eye for the great officers who were accustomed to introduce him. They appeared, and desired Campeggio to follow them. When the legate had been taken to his apartments, Wolsey waited his turn; but great was his consternation on being informed that there was no chamber appointed for him in the palace. Sir Henry Norris, groom of the stole, offered Wolsey the use of his own room, and the cardinal followed him, almost sinking beneath the humiliation he had undergone. He made ready to appear before the king, and summoning up his courage, proceeded to the presence-chamber. HRSCV5 847.1

The lords of the council were standing in a row according to their rank; Wolsey, taking off his hat, passed along, saluting each of them with affected civility. A great number of courtiers arrived, impatient to see how Henry would receive his old favorite; and most of them were already exulting in the striking disgrace of which they hoped to be witnesses. At last the king was announced. HRSCV5 847.2

Henry stood under the cloth of state; and Wolsey advanced and knelt before him. Deep silence prevailed throughout the chamber… To the surprise of all, Henry stooped down and raised him up with both hands Then, with a pleasing smile, he took Wolsey to the window, desired him to put on his hat, and talked familiarly with him. “Then,” says Cavendish, the cardinal’s gentleman usher, “it would have made you smile to behold the countenances of those who had laid wagers that the king would not speak with him.” HRSCV5 847.3

But this was the last ray of evening which then lighted up the darkening fortunes of Wosley: the star of his favor was about to set for ever… The silence continued, for every one desired to catch a few words of the conversation. The king seemed to be accusing Wolsey, and Wolsey to be justifying himself. On a sudden Henry pulled a letter out of his bosom, and showing it to the cardinal, said in a loud voice: “How can that be? is not this your hand?” It was no doubt the letter which Bryan had intercepted. Wolsey replied in an under-tone, and seemed to have appeased his master. The dinner hour having arrived, the king left the room, telling Wolsey that he would not fail to see him again; the courtiers were eager to make their profoundest reverences to the cardinal, but he haughtily traversed the chamber, and the dukes hastened to carry to Anne Boleyn the news of this astonishing reception. HRSCV5 847.4

Wolsey, Campeggio, and the lords of the council sat down to dinner. The cardinal, well aware that the terrible letter would be his utter ruin, and that Henry’s good graces had no other object than to prepare his fall, began to hint at his retirement. “Truly,” said he with a devout air, “the king would do well to send his bishops and chaplains home to their cures and benefices.” The company looked at one another with astonishment. “Yea, marry,” said the duke of Norfolk somewhat rudely, “and so it were meet for you to do also.”—“I should be very well contented therewith,” answered Wolsey, “if it were the king’s pleasure to license me with leave to go to my cure at Winchester.”—“Nay, to your benefice at York, where your greatest honor and charge is,” replied Norfolk, who was not willing that Wolsey should be living so near Henry.—“Even as it shall please the king,” added Wolsey, and changed the subject of conversation. HRSCV5 847.5

Henry had caused himself to be announced to Anne Boleyn, who (says Cavendish) “kept state at Grafton more like a queen than a simple maid.” Possessing extreme sensibility, and an ardent imagination, Anne, who felt the slightest insult with all the sensibility of her woman’s heart, was very dissatisfied with the king after the report of the dukes. Accordingly, heedless of the presence of the attendants, she said to him: “Sir, is it not a marvelous thing to see into what great danger the cardinal hath brought you with all your subjects?”—“How so, sweetheart?” asked Henry. Anne continued: “Are you ignorant of the hatred his exactions have drawn upon you? There is not a man in your whole realm of England worth one hundred pounds, but he hath made you his debtor.” Anne here alluded to the loan the king had raised among his subjects. “Well, well,” said Henry, who was not pleased with these remarks, “I know that matter better than you.”—“If my lord of Norfolk, my lord of Suffolk, my uncle, or my father had done much less than the cardinal hath done,” continued Anne, “they would have lost their heads ere this.”—“Then I perceive,” said Henry, “you are none of his friends.”—“No, sir, I have no cause, nor any that love you,” she replied. The dinner was ended; the king, without appearing at all touched, proceeded to the presence-chamber, where Wolsey expected him. HRSCV5 847.6

After a long conversation, carried on in a low tone, the king took Wolsey by the hand and led him into his private chamber. The courtiers awaited impatiently the termination of an interview which might decide the fate of England; they walked up and down the gallery, often passing before the door of the closet, in the hope of catching from Wolsey’s looks, when he opened it, the result of this secret conference; but one quarter of an hour followed another, these became hours, and still the cardinal did not appear. Henry having resolved that this conversation should be the last, was no doubt collecting from his minister all the information necessary to him. But the courtiers imagined he was returning into his master’s favor; Norfolk, Suffolk, Wiltshire, and the other enemies of the prime minister, began to grow alarmed, and hastened off to Anne Boleyn, who was their last hope. HRSCV5 848.1

It was night when the king and Wolsey quitted the royal closet; the former appeared gracious, the latter satisfied; it was always Henry’s custom to smile on those he intended to sacrifice. “I shall see you in the morning,” he said to the cardinal with a friendly air. Wolsey made a low bow, and, turning round to the courtiers, saw the king’s smile reflected on their faces. Wiltshire, Tuke, and even Suffolk, were full of civility. “Well,” thought he, “the motion of such weathercocks as these shows me from what quarter the wind of favor is blowing.” HRSCV5 848.2

But a moment after the wind began to change. Men with torches waited for the cardinal at the gates of the palace to conduct him to the place where he would have to pass the night. Thus he was not to sleep beneath the same roof with Henry. He was to lie at Euston, one of Empson’s houses, about three miles off. Wolsey, repressing his vexation, mounted his horse, the footmen preceded him with their links, and after an hour’s riding along very bad roads he reached the lodging assigned him. HRSCV5 848.3

He had sat down to supper, to which some of his most intimate friends had been invited, when suddenly Gardiner was announced. Gardiner owed everything to the cardinal, and yet he had not appeared before him since his return from Rome. He comes no doubt to play the hypocrite and the spy, thought Wolsey. But as soon as the secretary entered, Wolsey rose, made him a graceful compliment, and prayed him to take a seat. “Master Secretary,” he asked, “where have you been since your return from Rome?”—“I have been following the court from place to place.”—“You have been hunting then? Have you any dogs?” asked the prime minister, who knew very well what Gardiner had been doing in the king’s closet. “A few,” replied Gardiner. Wolsey thought that even the secretary was a bloodhound on his track. And yet after supper he took Gardiner aside, and conversed with him until midnight. He thought it prudent to neglect nothing that might clear up his position; and Wolsey sounded Gardiner, just as he himself had been sounded by Henry not long before. HRSCV5 848.4

The same night at Grafton the king gave Campeggio a farewell audience, and treated him very kindly, “by giving him presents and other matters,” says Du Bellay. Henry then returned to Anne Boleyn. The dukes had pointed out to her the importance of the present moment; she therefore asked and obtained of Henry, without any great difficulty, his promise never to speak to his minister again. The insults of the papacy had exasperated the king of England, and as he could not punish Clement, he took his revenge on the cardinal. HRSCV5 848.5

The next morning, Wolsey, impatient to have the interview which Henry had promised, rode back early to Grafton. But as he came near, he met a numerous train of servants and sumpter-horses; and presently afterwards Henry, with Anne Boleyn and many lords and ladies of the court, came riding up. “What does all this mean?” thought the cardinal in dismay. “My lord,” said the king, as he drew near, “I cannot stay with you now. You will return to London with cardinal Campeggio.” Then striking the spurs into his horse, Henry galloped off with a friendly salutation. After him came Anne Boleyn, who rode past Wolsey with head erect, and casting on him a proud look. The court proceeded to Hartwell Park, where Anne had determined to keep the king all day. Wolsey was confounded. There was no room for doubt; his disgrace was certain. His head swam, he remained immovable for an instant, and then recovered himself; but the blow he had received had not been unobserved by the courtiers, and the cardinal’s fall became the general topic of conversation. HRSCV5 848.6

After dinner, the legates departed, and on the second day reached Moor Park, a mansion built by Archbishop Neville, one of Wolsey’s predecessors, who for high treason had been first imprisoned at Calais, and afterwards at Ham. These recollections were by no means agreeable to Wolsey. The next morning the two cardinals separated; Campeggio proceeded to Dover, and Wolsey to London. HRSCV5 849.1

Campeggio was impatient to get out of England, and great was his annoyance, on reaching Dover, to find that the wind was contrary. But a still greater vexation was in reserve. He had hardly lain down to rest himself, before his door was opened, and a band of sergeants entered the room. The cardinal, who knew what scenes of this kind meant in Italy, thought he was a dead man, and fell trembling at his chaplain’s feet begging for absolution. Meantime the officers opened his luggage, broke into his chests, scattered his property about the floor, and even shook out his clothes. HRSCV5 849.2

Henry’s tranquility had not been of long duration. “Campeggio is the bearer of letters from Wolsey to Rome,” whispered some of the courtiers; “who knows but they contain treasonable matter?” “There is, too, among his papers the famous decretal pronouncing the divorce,” said one; “if we had but that document it would finish the business.” Another affirmed that Campeggio “had large treasure with him of my lord’s (Wolsey’s) to be conveyed in great tons to Rome,” whither it was surmised the cardinal of York would escape to enjoy the fruits of his treason. “It is certain,” added a third, “that Campeggio, assisted by Wolsey, has been able to procure your majesty’s correspondence with Anne Boleyn, and is carrying it away with him.” Henry, therefore, sent a messenger after the nuncio, with orders that his baggage should be thoroughly searched. HRSCV5 849.3

Nothing was found, neither letters, nor bull, nor treasures. The bull had been destroyed; the treasures Wolsey had never thought of intrusting to his colleague; and the letters of Anne and Henry, Campeggio had sent on before by his son Rodolph, and the pope was stretching out his hands to receive them, proud, like his successors, of the robbery committed by two of his legates. HRSCV5 849.4

Campeggio being reassured, and seeing that he was neither to be killed nor robbed, made a great noise at this act of violence, and at the insulting remarks which had given rise to it. “I will not leave England,” he caused Henry to be informed, “until I have received satisfaction.” “My lord forgets that he is legate no longer,” replied the king, “since the pope has withdrawn his powers; he forgets, besides, that, as bishop of Salisbury, he is my subject; as for the remarks against him and the cardinal of York, it is a liberty the people of England are accustomed to take, and which I cannot put down.” Campeggio, anxious to reach France, was satisfied with these reasons, and soon forgot all his sorrows at the sumptuous table of Cardinal Duprat. HRSCV5 849.5

Wolsey was not so fortunate. He had seen Campeggio go away, and remained like a wrecked seaman thrown on a desert isle, who has seen depart the only friends capable of giving him any help. His necromancy had forewarned him that this would be a fatal year. The angel of the maid of Kent had said: “Go to the cardinal and announce his fall, because he has not done what you had commanded him to do.” Other voices besides hers made themselves heard: the hatred of the nation, the contempt of Europe, and, above all, Henry’s anger, told him that his hour was come. It was true the pope said that he would do all in his power to save him; but Clement’s good offices would only accelerate his ruin. Du Bellay, whom the people believed to be the cardinal’s accomplice, bore witness to the change that had taken place in men’s minds. While passing on foot through the streets of the capital, followed by two valets, “his ears were so filled with coarse jests as he went along,” he said, “that he knew not which way to turn.” “The cardinal is utterly undone,” he wrote, “and I see not how he can escape.” The idea occurred to Wolsey, from time to time, to pronounce the divorce himself; but it was too late. He was even told that his life was in danger. Fortune, blind and bald, her foot on the wheel, fled rapidly from him, nor was it in his power to stop her. And this was not all: after him (he thought) there was no one who could uphold the church of the pontiffs in England. The ship of Rome was sailing on a stormy sea among rocks and shoals; Wolsey at the helm looked in vain for a port of refuge; the vessel leaked on every side; it was rapidly sinking, and the cardinal uttered a cry of distress. Alas! he had desired to save Rome, but Rome would not have it so. HRSCV5 849.6