(_For the Mirror_.)
Few periods of English history are more pregnant with events, or more
interesting to the antiquary, and general reader, than that which
comprised the fortunes of Wolsey. The eventful life of the Cardinal,
checkered as it was by the vicissitudes of fortune, his sudden
elevation, and finally his more sudden fall and death, display an
appalling picture of "the instability of human affairs." This prelate
and statesman, who even aspired to the Papal throne itself, "was an
honest poore man's sonne in the towne of Ipswiche,"[1] who having
received a good education, and being endowed with great capacity, soon
rose to fill the highest offices of the church and state; in 1515 he
was created Lord High Chancellor, and in three years afterwards was
appointed legate _à latere_ by the Pope, having previously received
a Cardinal's cap.
Leicester Abbey was rendered famous as being the last residence of the
unhappy Wolsey; "within its walls," says Gilpin, "was once exhibited a
scene more humiliating to human ambition, and more instructive to human
grandeur than almost any which history hath produced. Here the fallen
pride of Wolsey retreated from the insults of the world, all his visions
of ambition were now gone; his pomp and pageantry and crowded levees! On
this spot he told the listening monks, the sole attendants of his dying
hour, as they stood around his pallet, that he was come to lay his bones
among them, and gave a pathetic testimony to the truth and joys of
religion, which preaches beyond a thousand lectures."[2]
On his road to London, whither he had been summoned, from his castle of
_Cawood_, by Henry, to take his trial for high treason, he was seized
with a disorder, which so much increased as to oblige his resting at
Leicester, where he was met at the Abbey gate by the Abbot and his whole
convent. The first ejaculation of Wolsey, on meeting these holy persons,
plainly shows that he was fully aware of his approaching end: "Father
Abbot," said he, "I am come hither to lay my bones among you;"[3] and it
was with great difficulty that they could get him up the stairs, which
it was fated he was never again to descend alive. A short time previous
to his death, he thus addressed the Constable of the Tower, who was
appointed to convey him to the metropolis:--"Well, well, Master
Kingstone, I see the matter how it is framed; but if I had serued God as
diligentlie as I haue done the king, he would not haue giuen me ouer in
my gray haires;[4] but this is the iust reward that I must receiue for
the diligent paines and study yt I haue had to doe him seruice, not
regarding my seruice to God, but onely to satisfie his pleasure; I praie
you haue me most humblie commended vnto his royal maiestie, and beseech
him in my behalfe to call to his princelie remembrance, all matters
proceeding between him and mee, from the beginning of the worlde, and
the progress of the same, and most especialle in his weightie matter,
and then shall his grace's conscience know whether I haue oflended him
or no."[5]
Thus sunk into the grave a man, who was a victim to tyranny, but
to a tyranny which he had himself formed; that he was a person far
enlightened beyond the period in which he lived no one can presume
to doubt. He tended greatly to promote the arts and learning of his
country. His personal character displayed as great a variety of opposite
qualities, as the fortunes to which he had been exposed; his magnanimity
was oftentimes clouded by the greatest meanness, and with an urbanity of
manners, he combined an intolerable degree of pride and arrogance; he
was frank and generous, but his overwhelming ambition greatly tended to
obscure these nobler qualities of his mind, and as he rose, he became
haughty and overbearing. His character has been obscured by the envy and
partiality of his contemporaries, who have generally endeavoured to load
his memory with reproaches. "This Cardinall," says Holinshed, "was
of great stomach, for he compted himselfe equall with princes, and by
craftie suggestion got into his hands innumerable treasure; he forced
little on simonie, and was not pittiful, and stood affectionate in his
owne opinion; in open presence he would lie and saie vntruth, and was
double both in speech and meaning; he would promise much and performe
little; he was vicious of his bodie, and gaue the clergy euill example;
he hated sore the Citie of London and feared it. It was told him that
he should die in the waie toward London, wherefore he feared lest the
commons of the citie would arise in riotous maner and so slaie him, yet
for all that he died in the waie toward London, carrieng more with him
out of the worlde than he brought into it, namellie, a winding sheete,
besides other necessaries thought meet for a dead man, as a Christian
comelinesse required."[6]
The remains of the Cardinal were interred in the Abbey Church at
Leicester, after having been viewed by the Mayor and Corporation,
(for the prevention of false rumours,) and were attended to the grave
by the Abbot and all the brethren. This last ceremony was performed by
torchlight, the canons singing dirges, and offering orisons, at between
four and five o'clock of the morning, on St. Andrew's Day, November the
30th, 1530.
Leicester Abbey was founded (according to Leland) [7] in the year 1143,
in the reign of King Stephen, by Robert Bossue, Earl of Leicester, for
black canons of the order of St. Augustine, and was dedicated to the
Virgin Mary. It is situated in a pleasant meadow, to the north of the
town, watered by the river Soar, whence it acquired the name of _St.
Mary de Pratis_, or _de la Pré_. This monastery was richly endowed
with lands in thirty-six of the neighbouring parishes, besides various
possessions in other counties, and enjoyed considerable privileges and
immunities. Bossue, with the consent of Lady Amicia, his wife, became
a canon regular in his own foundation, in expiation of his rebellious
conduct towards his sovereign, and particularly for the injuries which
he had thereby brought upon the "goodly towne of Leycestre." At the
dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII. the revenues of this house
were valued according to _Speed_ at £1062. 0s. 4d., _Dugdale_ says £951.
14s. 5d.; and its site was granted in the 4th of Edward VI. to William,
Marquess of Northampton.[8]
[1] Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, p. 1. edit. 1641. Most of his
biographers affirm that he was the son of a butcher.
[2] "Northern Tour." The same author observes, that "the death of
Wolsey would make a fine moral picture, if the hand of any master
could give the pallid features of the dying statesman, that
chagrin, that remorse, those pangs of anguish, which, in the last
bitter moments of his life, possessed him. The point might be
taken when the monks are administering the comforts of religion,
which the despairing prelate cannot feel. The subject requires a
gloomy apartment, which a ray through a Gothic window might just
enlighten, throwing its force chiefly on the principal figure,
and dying away on the rest. The appendages of the piece need only
be few and simple; little more than the crozier and red hat to
mark the cardinal and tell the story."
[3] Stow's "Annals," p. 557, edit. 1615.
[4] Shakspeare introduces this memorable saying of the cardinal into
his play of "Henry the Eighth:"--
--"O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies."
[5] Stow's "Annals."
[6] Holinshed's "Chronicle," vol. iii. p. 765, edit. 1808.
[7] "Collectanea," vol i. p. 70.
[8] Tanner.