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