History of the Reformation, vol. 5

Chapter 13

Wolsey in the Court of Chancery—Accused by the Dukes—Refuses to give up the Great Seal—His Despair—He gives up the Seal—Order to depart—His Inventory—Alarm—The Scene of Departure—Favorable Message from the King—Wolsey’s Joy—His Fool—Arrival at Esher

While Cranmer was rising notwithstanding his humility, Wolsey was falling in despite of his stratagems. The cardinal still governed the kingdom, gave instructions to ambassadors, negotiated with princes, and filled his sumptuous palaces with his haughtiness. The king could not make up his mind to turn him off; the force of habit, the need he had of him, the recollection of the services Henry had received from him, pleaded in his favor. Wolsey without the seals appeared almost as inconceivable as the king without his crown. Yet the fall of one of the most powerful favorites recorded in history was inevitably approaching, and we must now describe it. HRSCV5 852.3

On the 9th of October, after the Michaelmas vacation, Wolsey, desirous of showing a bold face, went and opened the high court of chancery with his accustomed pomp; but he noticed, with uneasiness, that none of the king’s servants walked before him, as they had been accustomed to do. He presided on the bench with an inexpressible depression of spirits, and the various members of the court sat before him with an absent air; there was something gloomy and solemn in this sitting, as if all were taking part in a funeral; it was destined indeed to be the last act of the cardinal’s power. Some days before (Foxe says on the 1st of October) the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with other lords of the privy-council, had gone down to Windsor, and denounced to the king Wolsey’s unconstitutional relations with the pope, his usurpations, “his robberies, and the discords sown by his means between Christian princes.” Such motives would not have sufficed; but Henry had stronger. Wolsey had not kept any of his promises in the matter of the divorce; it would even appear that he had advised the pope to excommunicate the king, and thus raise his people against him. This enormity was not at that time known by the prince; it is even probable that it did not take place until later. But Henry knew enough, and he gave his attorney-general, Sir Christopher Hales, orders to prosecute Wolsey. HRSCV5 852.4

While the heart-broken cardinal was displaying his authority for the last time in the court of chancery, the attorney-general was accusing him in the king’s bench for having obtained papal bulls conferring on him a jurisdiction which encroached on the royal power; and calling for the application of the penalties of praemunire. The two dukes received orders to demand the seals from Wolsey; and the latter, informed of what had taken place, did not quit his palace on the 10th, expecting every moment the arrival of the messengers of the king’s anger; but no one appeared. HRSCV5 852.5

The next day the two dukes arrived: “It is the king’s good pleasure,” said they to the cardinal, who remained seated in his arm-chair, “that you give up the broad seal to us and retire to Esher” (a country-seat near Hampton Court). Wolsey, whose presence of mind never failed him, demanded to see the commission under which they were acting. “We have our orders from his majesty’s mouth,” said they.—“That may be sufficient for you,” replied the cardinal, “but not for me. The great seal of England was delivered to me by the hands of my sovereign; I may not deliver it at the simple word of any lord, unless you can show me your commission.” Suffolk broke out into a passion, but Wolsey remained calm, and the two dukes returned to Windsor. This was the cardinal’s last triumph. HRSCV5 852.6

The rumor of his disgrace created an immense sensation at court, in the city, and among the foreign ambassadors. Du Bellay hastened to York Place (Whitehall) to contemplate this great ruin and console his unhappy friend. He found Wolsey, with dejected countenance and lusterless eyes, “shrunk to half his wonted size,” wrote the ambassador to Montmorency, “the greatest example of fortune which was ever beheld.” Wolsey desired “to set forth his case” to him; but his thoughts were confused, his language broken, “for heart and tongue both failed him entirely;” he burst into tears. The ambassador regarded him with compassion: “Alas!” thought he, “his enemies cannot but feel pity for him.” At last the unhappy cardinal recovered his speech, but only to give way to despair. “I desire no more authority,” he exclaimed, “nor the pope’s legation, nor the broad seal of England I am ready to give up everything, even to my shirt I can live in a hermitage, provided the king does not hold me in disgrace.” The ambassador “did all he could to comfort him,” when Wolsey, catching at the plank thrown out to him, exclaimed: “Would that the king of France and madame might pray the king to moderate his anger against me. But, above all,” he added in alarm, “take care the king never knows that I have solicited this of you.” Du Bellay wrote indeed to France, that the king and madame alone could “withdraw their affectionate servant from the gates of hell;” and Wolsey being informed of these despatches, his hopes recovered a little. But this bright gleam did not last long. HRSCV5 853.1

On Sunday the 17th of October, Norfolk and Suffolk reappeared at Whitehall, accompanied by Fitzwilliam, Taylor, and Gardiner, Wolsey’s former dependant. It was six in the evening; they found the cardinal in an upper chamber, near the great gallery, and presented the king’s orders to him. Having read them, he said: “I am happy to obey his majesty’s commands;” then, having ordered the great seal to be brought him, he took it out of the white leather case in which he kept it, and handed it to the dukes, who placed it in a box, covered with crimson velvet, and ornamented with the arms of England, ordered Gardiner to seal it up with red wax, and gave it to Taylor to convey to the king. HRSCV5 853.2

Wolsey was thunderstruck; he was to drink the bitter cup even to the dregs: he was ordered to leave his palace forthwith, taking with him neither clothes, linen, nor plate; the dukes had feared that he would convey away his treasures. Wolsey comprehended the greatness of his misery; he found strength however to say: “Since it is the king’s good pleasure to take my house and all it contains, I am content to retire to Esher.” The dukes left him. HRSCV5 853.3

Wolsey remained alone. This astonishing man, who had risen from a butcher’s shop to the summit of earthly greatness—who, for a word that displeased him, sent his master’s most faithful servants (Pace for instance) to the Tower, and who had governed England as if he had been its monarch, and even more, for he had governed without a parliament—was driven out, and thrown, as it were, upon a dunghill. A sudden hope flashed like lightning through his mind; perhaps the magnificence of the spoils would appease Henry. Was not Esau pacified by Jacob’s present? Wolsey summoned his officers: “Set tables in the great gallery,” he said to them, “and place on them all I have intrusted to your care, in order to render me an account.” These orders were executed immediately. The tables were covered with an immense quantity of rich stuffs, silks and velvets of all colors, costly furs, rich copes and other ecclesiastical vestures; the walls were hung with cloth of gold and silver, and webs of a valuable stuff named baudy-kin, from the looms of Damascus, and with tapestry, representing scriptural subjects or stories from the old romances of chivalry. The gilt chamber and the council chamber, adjoining the gallery, were both filled with plate, in which the gold and silver were set with pearls and precious stones: these articles of luxury were so abundant that basketfuls of costly plate, which had fallen out of fashion, were stowed away under the tables. On every table was an exact list of the treasures with which it was loaded, for the most perfect order and regularity prevailed in the cardinal’s household. Wolsey cast a glance of hope upon this wealth, and ordered his officers to deliver the whole to his majesty. HRSCV5 853.4

He then prepared to leave his magnificent palace. That moment, of itself so sad, was made sadder still by an act of affectionate indiscretion. “Ah, my lord,” said his treasurer, Sir William Gascoigne, moved even to tears, “your grace will be sent to the Tower.” This was too much for Wolsey: to go and join his victims! He grew angry, and exclaimed: “Is this the best comfort you can give your master in adversity? I would have you and all such blasphemous reporters know that it is untrue.” HRSCV5 853.5

It was necessary to depart; he put round his neck a chain of gold, from which hung a pretended relic of the true cross; this was all he took. “Would to God,” he exclaimed, as he placed it on, “that I had never had any other.” This he said, alluding to the legate’s cross which used to be carried before him with so much pomp. He descended the back stairs, followed by his servants, some silent and dejected, others weeping bitterly, and proceeded to the river’s brink, where a barge awaited him. But, alas! it was not alone. The Thames was covered with innumerable boats full of men and women. The inhabitants of London, expecting to see the cardinal led to the Tower, desired to be present at his humiliation, and prepared to accompany him. Cries of joy hailing his fall were heard from every side; nor were the cruelest sarcasms wanting. “The butcher’s dog will bite no more,” said some; “look, how he hangs his head.” In truth, the unhappy man, distressed by a sight so new to him, lowered those eyes which were once so proud, but now were filled with bitter tears. This man, who had made all England tremble, was then like a withered leaf carried along the stream. All his servants were moved; even his fool, William Patch, sobbed like the rest. “O, wavering and newfangled multitude,” exclaimed Cavendish, his gentleman usher. The hopes of the citizens were disappointed; the barge, instead of descending the river, proceeded upwards in the direction of Hampton Court; gradually the shouts died away, and the flotilla dispersed. HRSCV5 854.1

The silence of the river permitted Wolsey to indulge in less bitter thoughts; but it seemed as if invisible furies were pursuing him, now that the people had left him. He left his barge at Putney, and mounting his mule, though with difficulty, proceeded slowly with downcast looks. Shortly after, upon lifting his eyes, he saw a horseman riding rapidly down the hill towards them. “Whom do you think it can be?” he asked of his attendants. “My lord,” replied one of them, “I think it is Sir Henry Norris.” A flash of joy passed through Wolsey’s heart. Was it not Norris, who, of all the king’s officers, had shown him the most respect during his visit to Grafton? Norris came up with them, saluted him respectfully, and said: “The king bids me declare that he still entertains the same kindly feelings towards you, and sends you this ring as a token of his confidence.” Wolsey received it with a trembling hand: it was that which the king was in the habit of sending on important occasions. The cardinal immediately alighted from his mule, and kneeling down in the road, raised his hands to heaven with an indescribable expression of happiness. The fallen man would have pulled off his velvet under-cap, but unable to undo the strings, he broke them, and threw it on the ground. He remained on his knees bareheaded, praying fervently amidst profound silence. God’s forgiveness had never caused Wolsey so much pleasure as Henry’s. HRSCV5 854.2

Having finished his prayer, the cardinal put on his cap, and remounted his mule. “Gentle Norris,” said he to the king’s messenger, “if I were lord of a kingdom, the half of it would scarcely be enough to reward you for your happy tidings; but I have nothing left except the clothes on my back.” Then taking off his gold chain: “Take this,” he said, “it contains a piece of the true cross. In my happier days I would not have parted with it for a thousand pounds.” The cardinal and Norris separated: but Wolsey soon stopped, and the whole troop halted on the heath. The thought troubled him greatly that he had nothing to send to the king; he called Norris back, and, looking round him, saw, mounted on a sorry horse, poor William Patch, who had lost all his gaiety since his master’s misfortune. “Present this poor jester to the king from me,” said Wolsey to Norris; “his buffooneries are a pleasure fit for a prince; he is worth a thousand pounds.” Patch, offended at being treated thus, burst into a violent passion; his eyes flashed fire, he foamed at the mouth, he kicked and fought, an bit all who approached him; but the inexorable Wolsey, who looked upon him merely as a toy, ordered six of his tallest yeomen to lay hold of him. They carried off the unfortunate creature, who long continued to utter his piercing cries. At the very moment when his master had had pity on him, Wolsey, like the servant in the parable, had no pity on his poor companion in misfortune. HRSCV5 854.3

At last they reached Esher. What a residence compared with Whitehall! It was little more than four bare walls. The most urgent necessaries were procured from the neighboring houses, but Wolsey could not adapt himself to this cruel contrast. Besides, he knew Henry VIII; he knew that he might send Norris one day with a gold ring, and the executioner the next with a rope. Gloomy and dejected, he remained seated in his lonely apartments. On a sudden he would rise from his seat, walk hurriedly up and down, speak aloud to himself, and then, falling back in his chair, he would weep like a child. This man, who formerly had shaken kingdoms, had been overthrown in the twinkling of an eye, and was now atoning for his perfidies in humiliation and terror,—a striking example of God’s judgment. HRSCV5 854.4