For more than a year, as Henry's complaints testify, Anne continued

deaf to his homage. The despairing king saw that he must set other

springs to work, and taking Lord Rochford aside, he unfolded his plans

to him. The ambitious father promised to do all in his power to

influence his daughter. "The divorce is a settled thing," he said to

her; "you have no control over it. The only question is, whether it

shall be you or another who shall give an heir to the crown. Bear in

mind that terrible revolutions threaten England, if the king has no

son." Thus did every thing combine to weaken Anne's resolution. The

voice of her father, the interests of her country, the king's love,

and doubtless some secret ambition, influenced her to grasp the

proffered sceptre. These thoughts haunted her in society, in solitude,

and even in her dreams. At one time she imagined herself on the

throne, distributing to the people her charities and the word of God;

at another, in some obscure exile, leading a useless life, in tears

and ignominy. When, in the sports of her imagination, the crown of

England appeared all glittering before her, she at first rejected it;

but afterwards that regal ornament seemed so beautiful, and the power

it conferred so enviable, that she repelled it less energetically.

Anne still refused, however, to give the so ardently solicited assent.

Henry, vexed by her hesitation, wrote to her frequently, and almost

always in French. As the court of Rome makes use of these letters,

which are kept in the Vatican, to abuse the Reformation, we think it

our duty to quote them. The theft committed by a cardinal has

preserved them for us; and we shall see that, far from supporting the

calumnies that have been spread abroad, they tend, on the contrary, to

refute them. We are far from approving their contents as a whole; but

we cannot deny to the young lady, to whom they are addressed, the

possession of noble and generous sentiments.

Henry, unable to support the anguish caused by Anne's refusal, wrote

to her, as it is generally supposed, in May 1528:[815]

"By revolving in my mind the contents of your last letters, I

have put myself into great agony, not knowing how to

interpret them, whether to my disadvantage, as I understand

some passages, or not, as I conclude from others. I beseech

you earnestly to let me know your real mind as to the love

between us two. It is needful for me to obtain this answer of

you, having been for a whole year wounded with the dart of

love, and not yet assured whether I shall succeed in finding

a place in your heart and affection. This uncertainty has

hindered me of late from declaring you my mistress, lest it

should prove that you only entertain for me an ordinary

regard. But if you please to do the duty of a true and loyal

mistress, I promise you that not only the name shall be given

to you, but also that I will take you for my mistress,

casting off all others that are in competition with you, out

of my thoughts and affection, and serving you only. I beg you

to give an entire answer to this my rude letter, that I may

know on what and how far I may depend. But if it does not

please you to answer me in writing, let me know some place

where I may have it by word of mouth, and I will go thither

with all my heart. No more for fear of tiring you. Written by

the hand of him who would willingly remain yours,

"H. REX."

[815] Vatican Letters. Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 114. The date in the

text is that assigned by the editor; we are inclined to place it

somewhat earlier.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S SECOND LETTER.]

Such were the affectionate, and we may add (if we think of the time

and the man) the respectful terms employed by Henry in writing to Anne

Boleyn. The latter, without making any promises, betrayed some little

affection for the king, and added to her reply an emblematical jewel,

representing "a solitary damsel in a boat tossed by the tempest,"

wishing thus to make the prince understand the dangers to which his

love exposed her. Henry was ravished and immediately replied:--

"For a present so valuable, that nothing could be more

(considering the whole of it,) I return you my most hearty

thanks, not only on account of the costly diamond, and the

ship in which the solitary damsel is tossed about, but

chiefly for the fine interpretation, and the too humble

submission which your goodness hath made to me. Your favour I

will always seek to preserve, and this is my firm intention

and hope, according to the matter, _aut illic aut nullibi_.

"The demonstrations of your affections are such, the fine

thoughts of your letter so cordially expressed, that they

oblige me for ever to honour, love, and serve you sincerely.

I beseech you to continue in the same firm and constant

purpose, and assuring you that, on my part, I will not only

make you a suitable return, but outdo you, so great is the

loyalty of the heart that desires to please you. I desire,

also, that if, at any time before this, I have in any way

offended you, that you would give me the same absolution that

you ask, assuring you, that hereafter my heart shall be

dedicated to you alone. I wish my person were so too. God can

do it, if he pleases, _to whom I pray once a-day_ for that

end, hoping that at length _my prayers will be heard_. I wish

the time may be short, but I shall think it long till we see

one another. Written by the hand of that secretary, who in

heart, body, and will, is

"Your loyal and most faithful Servant,

"H. T. REX."[816]

[816] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 115. After the signature comes the

following device:

_Nulle autre que [Illustration: initials AB inside heart shape] ne

cherche H. T._

* * * * *

[Sidenote: HENRY'S THIRD AND FOURTH LETTERS.]

Henry was a passionate lover, and history is not called upon to

vindicate that cruel prince; but in the preceding letter we cannot

discover the language of a seducer. It is impossible to imagine the

king praying to God _once a-day_, for anything but a lawful union.

These daily prayers seem to present the matter in a different light

from that which Romanist writers have imagined.

Henry thought himself more advanced than he really was. Anne then

shrank back; embarrassed by the position she held at court, she begged

for one less elevated. The king submitted, although very vexed at

first:

"Nevertheless that it belongeth not to a gentleman," he wrote

to her, "to put his _mistress_ in the situation of a

_servant_, yet, by following your wishes, I would willingly

concede it, if by that means you are less uncomfortable in

the place you shall choose than in that where you have been

placed by me. I thank you most cordially that you are pleased

still to bear me in your remembrance.

"H. T."

Anne, having retired in May to Hever castle, her father's residence,

the king wrote to her as follows:--

"My Mistress and my Friend,

"My heart and I surrender ourselves into your hands, and we

supplicate to be commended to your good graces, and that by

absence your affections may not be diminished to us. For that

would be to augment our pain, which would be a great pity,

since absence gives enough, and more than I ever thought

could be felt. This brings to my mind a fact in astronomy,

which is, that the longer the days are, the farther off is

the sun, and yet the more scorching is his heat. Thus is it

with our love; absence has placed distance between us,

nevertheless fervour increases, at least on my part. I hope

the same from you, assuring you that in my case the anguish

of absence is so great that it would be intolerable were it

not for the firm hope I have of your indissoluble affection

towards me. In order to remind you of it, and because I

cannot in person be in your presence, I send you the thing

which comes nearest that is possible, that is to say, my

picture, and the whole device, which you already know

of,[817] set in bracelets; wishing myself in their place when

it pleases you. This is from the hand of "Your Servant and

Friend,

"H. T. REX."

[817] Doubtless the _aut illic aut nullibi_. For this letter see the

Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 346.

[Sidenote: ANNE GIVES HER CONSENT.]

Pressed by her father, her uncles, and by Henry, Anne's firmness was

shaken. That crown, rejected by Renée and by Margaret, dazzled the

young Englishwoman; every day she found some new charm in it; and

gradually familiarizing herself with her new future, she said at last:

"If the king becomes free, I shall be willing to marry him." This was

a great fault; but Henry was at the height of joy.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY STRIVES TO DISSUADE HENRY.]

The courtiers watched with observant eyes these developments of the

king's affection, and were already preparing the homage which they

proposed to lay at Anne Boleyn's feet. But there was one man at court

whom Henry's resolution filled with sorrow; this was Wolsey. He had

been the first to suggest to the king the idea of separating from

Catherine; but if Anne is to succeed her, there must be no divorce. He

had first alienated Catherine's party; he was now going to irritate

that of the Boleyns; accordingly he began to fear that whatever might

be the issue of this affair, it would cause his ruin. He took frequent

walks in his park at Hampton Court, accompanied by the French

ambassador, the confidant of his sorrows: "I would willingly lose one

of my fingers," he said, "if I could only have two hours' conversation

with the king of France." At another time, fancying all England was

pursuing him, he said with alarm, "The king my master and all his

subjects will cry murder against me; they will fall upon me more

fiercely than on a Turk, and all Christendom will rise against me!"

The next day Wolsey, to gain the French ambassador, gave him a long

history of what he had done for France _against the wishes of all

England_: "I need much dexterity in my affairs," he added, "and must

use a terrible _alchymy_."[818] But alchymy could not save him.

Rarely has so much anguish been veiled beneath such grandeur. Du

Bellay was moved with pity at the sight of the unhappy man's

sufferings. "When he gives way," he wrote to Montmorency, "it lasts a

day together;--he is continually sighing.--You have never seen a man

in such anguish of mind."[819]

[818] Une terrible Alquemie. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 157.

[819] 26th April, 1528. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 93.

In truth Wolsey's reason was tottering. That fatal idea of the divorce

was the cause of all his woes, and to be able to recall it, he would

have given, not a _finger_ only, but an arm, and perhaps more. It was

too late; Henry had started his car down the steep, and whoever

attempted to stop it would have been crushed beneath its wheels.

However, the cardinal tried to obtain something. Francis I had

intercepted a letter from Charles V in which the emperor spoke of the

divorce as likely to raise the English nation in revolt. Wolsey caused

this letter to be read to the king, in the hope that it would excite

his serious apprehensions; but Henry only _frowned_, and Du Bellay, to

whom the monarch ascribed the report on these troubles foreboded by

Charles, received "a gentle lash."[820] This was the sole-result of

the manœuvre.

[820] _Quelque petit coup de fouet._ 24th May, 1528. Du Bellay to

Montmorency. Ibid. p. 102.

Wolsey now resolved to broach this important subject in a

straightforward manner. The step might prove his ruin; but if he

succeeded he was saved and the popedom with him. Accordingly one day

(shortly before the sweating sickness broke out, says Du Bellay,

probably in June 1528) Wolsey openly prayed the king to renounce his

design; his own reputation, he told him, the prosperity of England,

the peace of Europe, the safety of the church,--all required it;

besides the pope would never grant the divorce. While the cardinal was

speaking, Henry's face grew black; and before he had concluded the

king's anger broke out. "The king used terrible words," said Du

Bellay. He would have given a thousand Wolseys for one Anne Boleyn.

"No other than God shall take her from me," was his most decided

resolution.

Wolsey, now no longer doubting of his disgrace, began to take his

measures accordingly. He commenced building in several places, in

order to win the affections of the common people; he took great care

of his bishoprics, in order that they might ensure him an easy

retreat; he was affable to the courtiers; and thus covered the earth

with flowers to deaden his fall. Then he would sigh as if he were

disgusted with honours; and would celebrate the charms of

solitude.[821] He did more than this. Seeing plainly that the best

way of recovering the king's favour would be to conciliate Anne

Boleyn, he made her the most handsome presents,[822] and assured her

that all his efforts would now be directed to raise her to the throne

of England. Anne believing these declarations replied, that she would

help him in her turn, "As long as any breath was in her body."[823]

Even Henry had no doubt that the cardinal had profited by his lesson.

[821] 20th August, 1528. Ibid. p. 165.

[822] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 150.

[823] Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE SWEATING SICKNESS.]

Thus were all parties restless and uneasy--Henry desiring to marry

Lady Anne, the courtiers to get rid of Wolsey, and the latter to

remain in power--when a serious event appeared to put every one in

harmony with his neighbour. About the middle of June, the terrible

sweating sickness (_sudor anglicus_) broke out in England. The

citizens of London, "thick as flies," said Du Bellay,[824] suddenly

feeling pains in the head and heart, rushed from the streets or shops

to their chambers, began to sweat, and took to their beds. The disease

made frightful and rapid progress, a burning heat preyed on their

limbs; if they chanced to uncover themselves, the perspiration ceased,

delirium came on, and in four hours the victim was dead and "stiff as

a wall,"[825] says the French ambassador. Every family was in

mourning. Sir Thomas More, kneeling by his daughter's bedside, burst

into tears, and called upon God to save his beloved Margaret.[826]

Wolsey, who was at Hampton Court, suspecting nothing amiss, arrived in

London as usual to preside in the court of Chancery; but he ordered

his horses to be saddled again immediately and rode back. In four

days, 2000 persons died in London.

[824] Dru comme mouches. Le Grand. Preuves, p. 138.

[825] Raide comme un pan de mur. Ibid.

[826] More's Life, p. 136.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S TERROR.]

The court was at first safe from the contagion; but on the fourth day

one of Anne Boleyn's ladies was attacked; it was as if a thunderbolt

had fallen on the palace. The king removed with all haste, and staid

at a place twelve miles off, for he was not prepared to die. He

ordered Anne to return to her father, invited the queen to join him,

and took up his residence at Waltham. His real conscience awoke only

in the presence of death. Four of his attendants and a friar, Anne's

confessor, as it would appear,[827] falling ill, the king departed for

Hunsdon. He had been there two days only when Powis, Carew, Carton,

and others of his court, were carried off in two or three hours. Henry

had met an enemy whom he could not vanquish. He quitted the place

attacked by the disease; he removed to another quarter; and when the

sickness laid hold of any of his attendants in his new retreat, he

again left that for a new asylum. Terror froze his blood; he wandered

about pursued by that terrible scythe whose sweep might perhaps reach

him; he cut off all communication, even with his servants; shut

himself up in a room at the top of an isolated tower; ate all alone,

and would see no one but his physician;[828] he prayed, fasted,

confessed, became reconciled with the queen; took the sacrament every

Sunday and feast day; received _his Maker_,[829] to use the words of a

gentleman of his chamber; and the queen and Wolsey did the same. Nor

was that all: his councillor, Sir Brian Tuke, was sick in Essex; but

that mattered not; the king ordered him to come to him, even in his

litter; and on the 20th of June, Henry after hearing three masses (he

had never done so much before in one day) said to Tuke: "I want you to

write _my will_." He was not the only one who took that precaution.

"There were _a hundred thousand_ made," says Du Bellay.

[827] Votre père maître Jesonère est tombé malade. Henry to Anne.

Pamphleteer. No. 42, p. 347.

[828] With his physician in a chamber within a tower to sup apart.

State Papers, vol. i, p. 296.

[829] Ibid. p. 290.

During this time, Anne in her retirement at Hever was calm and

collected; she prayed much, particularly for the king and for

Wolsey.[830] But Henry, far less submissive, was very anxious. "The

uneasiness my doubts about your health gave me," he wrote to her,

"disturbed and frightened me exceedingly; but now, since you have as

yet felt nothing, I hope it is with you as it is with us.... I beg

you, my entirely beloved, not to frighten yourself, or be too uneasy

at our absence, for wherever I am, I am yours. And yet we must

sometimes submit to our misfortunes, for whoever will struggle against

fate, is generally but so much the farther from gaining his end.

Wherefore, comfort yourself and take courage, and make this misfortune

as easy to you as you can."[831]

[830] I thank our Lord that them that I desired and prayed for are

escaped, and that is the king's grace and you. Anne to Wolsey.

Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 150.

[831] Ibid. No. 42, p. 347.

As he received no news, Henry's uneasiness increased; he sent to Anne

a messenger and a letter: "to acquit myself of the duty of a true

servant, I send you this letter, beseeching you to apprize me of your

welfare, which I pray may continue as long as I desire mine own."

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S TERRORS.]

Henry's fears were well founded; the malady became more severe; in

four hours eighteen persons died at the archbishop of Canterbury's;

Anne Boleyn herself and her brother also caught the infection. The

king was exceedingly agitated; Anne alone appeared calm; the strength

of her character raised her above exaggerated fears; but her enemies

ascribed her calmness to other motives. "Her ambition is stronger than

death," they said. "The king, queen, and cardinal tremble for their

lives, but she ... she would die content if she died a queen." Henry

once more changed his residence. All the gentlemen of his

privy-chamber were attacked with one exception; "he remained alone,

keeping himself apart," says Du Bellay, and confessed every day. He

wrote again to Anne, sending her his physician, Dr. Butts:[832] "The

most displeasing news that could occur came to me suddenly at night.

On three accounts I must lament it. One, to hear of the illness of my

mistress, whom I esteem more than all the world, and whose health I

desire as I do my own. I would willingly bear half of what you suffer

to cure you. The second, from the fear that I shall have to endure my

wearisome absence much longer, which has hitherto given me all the

vexation that was possible; and when gloomy thoughts filled my mind,

then I pray God to remove far from me such troublesome and rebellious

ideas. The third, because my physician, in whom I have most

confidence, is absent. Yet, from the want of him, I send you my

second, and hope that he will soon make you well. I shall then love

him more than ever. I beseech you to be guided by his advice in your

illness. By your doing this, I hope soon to see you again, which will

be to me a greater comfort than all the precious jewels in the world."

[832] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 120.

The pestilence soon broke out with more violence around Henry; he fled

in alarm to Hatfield, taking with him only the gentleman of his

chamber; he next quitted this place for Tittenhanger, a house

belonging to Wolsey, whence he commanded general processions

throughout the kingdom in order to avert this scourge of God.[833] At

the same time he wrote to Wolsey: "As soon as any one falls ill in the

place where you are, fly to another; and go thus from place to place."

The poor cardinal was still more alarmed than Henry. As soon as he

felt the slightest perspiration, he fancied himself a dead man. "I

entreat your highness," he wrote trembling to the king on the 5th of

July, "to show yourself full of pity for my soul; these are perhaps

the last words I shall address to you ... the whole world will see by

my last testament that you have not bestowed your favour upon an

ungrateful man." The king, perceiving that Wolsey's mind was affected,

bade him "put apart fear and fantasies,"[834] and wear a cheerful

humour in the midst of death.

[833] State Papers, i, p. 308.

[834] State Papers, i, p. 314.

[Sidenote: DISSIMULATION AT COURT.]

At last the sickness began to diminish, and immediately the desire to

see Anne revived in Henry's bosom. On the 18th of August she

re-appeared at court, and all the king's thoughts were now bent on the

divorce.

But this business seemed to proceed in inverse ratio to his desires.

There was no news of Campeggio; was he lost in the Alps or at sea? Did

his gout detain him in some village, or was the announcement of his

departure only a feint? Anne Boleyn herself was uneasy, for she

attached great importance to Campeggio's coming. If the church

annulled the king's first marriage, Anne seeing the principal obstacle

removed, thought she might accept Henry's hand. She therefore wrote to

Wolsey: "I long to hear from you news of the legate, for I do hope

(an' they come from you) they shall be very good." The king added in a

postscript: "The not hearing of the legate's arrival in France causeth

us somewhat to muse. Notwithstanding we trust by your diligence and

vigilancy (with the assistance of Almighty God) shortly to be eased

out of that trouble."[835]

[835] Pamphleteer, No. 48, p. 149.

But still there was no news. While waiting for the long desired

ambassador, every one at the English court played his part as well as

he could. Anne, whether from conscience, prudence, or modesty, refused

the honours which the king would have showered upon her, and never

approached Catherine but with marks of profound respect. Wolsey had

the look of desiring the divorce, while in reality he dreaded it, as

fated to cause his ruin and that of the popedom. Henry strove to

conceal the motives which impelled him to separate from the queen; to

the bishops, he spoke of his _conscience_, to the nobility _of an

heir_, and to all of the sad obligation which compelled him to put

away so justly beloved a princess. In the meanwhile, he seemed to live

on the best terms with her, from what Du Bellay says.[836] But

Catherine was the one who best dissembled her sentiments; she lived

with the king as during their happiest days, treated Anne with every

kindness, adopted an elegant costume, encouraged music and dancing in

her apartments, often appeared in public, and seemed desirous of

captivating by her gracious smiles the good-will of England. This was

a mournful comedy, destined to end in tragedy full of tears and agony.

[836] 16th October 1528. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves,

p. 170.

CHAPTER II.

Coverdale and Inspiration--He undertakes to translate the

Scriptures--His Joy and Spiritual Songs--Tyball and the

Laymen--Coverdale preaches at Bumpstead--Revival at

Colchester--Incomplete Societies and the New

Testament--Persecution--Monmouth arrested and released.

[Sidenote: COVERDALE AND INSPIRATION.]

While these scenes were acting in the royal palaces, far different

discussions were going on among the people. After having dwelt for

some time on the agitations of the court, we gladly return to the

lowly disciples of the divine word. The Reformation of England (and

this is its characteristic) brings before us by turns the king upon

his throne, and the laborious artisan in his humble cottage; and

between these two extremes we meet with the doctor in his college, and

the priest in his pulpit.

[Sidenote: MILES COVERDALE.]

Among the young men trained at Cambridge under Barnes's instruction,

and who had aided him at the time of his trial, was Miles Coverdale,

afterwards bishop of Exeter, a man distinguished by his zeal for the

Gospel of Jesus Christ. Some time after the prior's fall, on Easter

Eve, 1527, Coverdale and Cromwell met at the house of Sir Thomas More,

when the former exhorted the Cambridge student to apply himself to the

study of sacred learning.[837] The lapse of his unhappy master had

alarmed Coverdale, and he felt the necessity of withdrawing from that

outward activity which had proved so fatal to Barnes. He therefore

turned to the Scriptures, read them again and again, and perceived,

like Tyndale, that the reformation of the church must be effected by

the word of God. The inspiration of that word, the only foundation of

its sovereign authority, had struck Coverdale. "Wherever the Scripture

is known it reformeth all things. And why? Because it is given _by the

inspiration of God_."[838] This fundamental principle of the

Reformation in England must, in every age, be that of the church.

[837] Coverdale's Remains (Parker Society), p. 490. The authority for

this statement is a letter from Coverdale to Cromwell, which the

editor of the "remains" assigns to the year 1527. Mr. Anderson (Annals

of the Bible, i. p. 239), places it four years later, in 1531. Foxe

asserts that Cromwell was at the siege of Rome in May 1527, on the

authority of Cranmer and Cromwell himself (Acts and Mon. v. p. 365).

If so, the letter cannot belong to that year; but 1531 is improbable.

I am inclined to think it was written in 1528; but any way there is a

difficulty with the date.

[838] Ibid. p. 10.

Coverdale found happiness in his studies: "Now," he said, "I begin to

taste of Holy Scriptures! Now, honour be to God! I am set to the most

sweet smell of holy letters."[839] He did not stop there, but thought

it his duty to attempt in England the work which Tyndale was

prosecuting in Germany. The Bible was so important in the eyes of

these Christians, that two translations were undertaken

simultaneously. "Why should other nations," said Coverdale, "be more

plenteously provided for with the Scriptures in their mother-tongue

than we?"[840]--"Beware of translating the Bible!" exclaimed the

partisans of the schoolmen; "your labour will only make divisions in

the faith and in the people of God."[841]--"God has now given his

church," replied Coverdale, "the gifts of translating and of printing;

we must improve them." And if any friends spoke of Tyndale's

translation, he answered: "Do not you know that when many are starting

together, every one doth his best to be nighest the mark?"[842]--"But

Scripture ought to exist in Latin only," objected the priests.--"No,"

replied Coverdale again, "the Holy Ghost is as much the author of it

in the Hebrew, Greek, French, Dutch, and English, as in Latin.... The

word of God is of like authority, in what language soever the Holy

Ghost speaketh it."[843] This does not mean that translations of Holy

Scripture are inspired, but that the word of God, faithfully

translated, always possesses a divine authority.

[839] Coverdale's Remains, p. 490.

[840] Ibid. p. 12.

[841] Ibid.

[842] Ibid. p. 14.

[843] Ibid. p. 26.

Coverdale determined therefore to translate the Bible, and, to procure

the necessary books, he wrote to Cromwell, who, during his travels,

had made a collection of these precious writings. "Nothing in the

world I desire but books," he wrote; "like Jacob, you have drunk of

the dew of heaven.... I ask to drink of your waters."[844] Cromwell

did not refuse Coverdale his treasures. "Since the Holy Ghost moves

you to bear the cost of this work," exclaimed the latter, "God gives

me boldness to labour in the same."[845] He commenced without delay,

saying: "Whosoever believeth not the Scripture, believeth not Christ;

and whoso refuseth it, refuseth God also."[846] Such were the

foundations of the reformed church in England.

[844] De tuo ipso torrente maxime potare exopto. Ibid. p. 491.

[845] Ibid. p. 10.

[846] Ibid. p. 19.

Coverdale did not undertake to translate the Scriptures as a mere

literary task: the Spirit which had inspired him spoke to his heart;

and tasting their life-giving promises, he expressed his happiness in

pious songs:--

Be glad now, all ye christen men,

And let us rejoyce unfaynedly.

The kindnesse cannot be written with penne,

That we have receaved of God's mercy;

Whose love towarde us hath never ende:

He hath done for us as a frende;

Now let us thanke him hartely.

These lovynge words he spake to me.

I wyll delyver thy soule from payne;

I am desposed to do for thee,

And to myne owne selfe thee to retayne.

Thou shalt be with me, for thou art myne;

And I with thee, for I am thyne;

Such is my love, I cannot layne.

They wyll shed out my precyous bloude,

And take away my lyfe also;

Which I wyll suffre all for thy good:

Beleve this sure, where ever thou go.

For I will yet ryse up agayne;

Thy synnes I beare, though it be payne,

To make thee safe and free from wo.

[Sidenote: TYBALL AT BUMPSTEAD.]

Coverdale did not remain long in the solitude he desired. The study of

the Bible, which had attracted him to it, soon drew him out of it. A

revival was going on in Essex; John Tyball, an inhabitant of

Bumpstead, having learnt to find in Jesus Christ the _true bread from

heaven_, did not stop there. One day as he was reading the first

epistle to the Corinthians, these words: "eat of this _bread_," and

"drink of this _cup_," repeated four times within a few verses,

convinced him that there was no transubstantiation. "A priest has no

power to create the body of the Lord," said he, "Christ truly is

present in the Eucharist, but he is there only _for him that

believeth_, and by a spiritual presence and action only." Tyball,

disgusted with the Romish clergy and worship, and convinced that

Christians are called to a universal priesthood, soon thought that men

could do without a special ministry, and without denying the offices

mentioned in Scripture, as some Christians have done since, he

attached no importance to them. "Priesthood is not necessary,[847]" he

said: "every layman may administer the sacraments as well as a

priest." The minister of Bumpstead, one Richard Foxe, and next a

greyfriar of Colchester named Meadow, were successively converted by

Tyball's energetic preaching.

[847] Strype, Records, i. p. 51.

[Sidenote: CONVERSION OF TOPLEY AND PYKAS.]

Coverdale, who was living not far from these parts, having heard speak

of this religious revival, came to Bumpstead, and went into the

pulpit in the spring of 1528, to proclaim the treasures contained in

Scripture. Among his hearers was an Augustine monk, named Topley, who

was supplying Foxe's place during his absence. This monk, while

staying at the parsonage, had found a copy of Wickliffe's _Wicket_,

which he read eagerly. His conscience was wounded by it, and all

seemed to totter about him.[848] He had gone to church full of doubt,

and after divine service he waited upon the preacher, exclaiming: "O

my sins, my sins!" "Confess yourself to God," said Coverdale, "and not

to a priest. God accepteth the confession which cometh from the heart,

and blotteth out all your sins."[849] The monk believed in the

forgiveness of God, and became a zealous evangelist for the

surrounding country.

[848] I felt in my conscience a great wavering. Anderson's Annals of

the Bible, vol. i. p. 185.

[849] Coverdale's Remains, p. 481.

The divine word had hardly lighted one torch, before that kindled

another. At Colchester, in the same county, a worthy man named Pykas,

had received a copy of the Epistles of Saint Paul from his mother,

with this advice: "My son, live according to these writings, and not

according to the teaching of the clergy." Some time after, Pykas

having bought a New Testament, and "read it thoroughly many

times,"[850] a total change took place in him. "We must be baptized by

the Holy Ghost," he said, and these words passed like a breath of life

over his simple-minded hearers. One day, Pykas having learnt that

Bilney, the first of the Cambridge doctors who had known the power of

God's word, was preaching at Ipswich, he proceeded thither, for he

never refused to listen to a priest, when that priest proclaimed the

truth. "O, what a sermon! how full of the Holy Ghost!" exclaimed

Pykas.

[850] Strype, vol. i. ch. i. p. 121.

From that period meetings of the brothers in Christ (for thus they

were called) increased in number. They read the New Testament, and

each imparted to the others what he had received for the instruction

of all. One day when the twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew had been

read, Pykas, who was sometimes wrong in the spiritual interpretation

of Scripture, remarked: "When the Lord declares that _not one stone of

the temple shall be left upon another_, he speaks of those haughty

priests who persecute those whom they call heretics, and who pretend

to be the temple of God. God will destroy them all." After protesting

against the priest, he protested against the host: "The real body of

Jesus Christ is in the Word," he said; "God is in the Word, the Word

is in God.[851] God and the Word cannot be separated. Christ is the

living Word that nourishes the soul." These humble preachers

increased. Even women knew the Epistles and Gospels by heart; Marion

Matthew, Dorothy Long, Catherine Swain, Alice Gardiner, and, above

all, Gyrling's wife, who had been in service with a priest lately

burnt for heresy, took part in these gospel meetings. And it was not

in cottages only that the glad tidings were then proclaimed; Bower

Hall, the residence of the squires of Bumpstead, was open to Foxe,

Topley, and Tyball, who often read the Holy Scriptures in the great

hall of the mansion, in the presence of the master and all their

household: a humble Reformation more real than that effected by Henry

VIII.

[851] Ibid. p. 130.

[Sidenote: TWO FORMS OF THE CHURCH.]

There was, however, some diversity of opinion among these brethren.

"All who have begun to believe," said Tyball, Pykas, and others,

"ought to meet together to hear the word and increase in faith. We

pray in common ... and that constitutes a church." Coverdale, Bilney,

and Latimer willingly recognised these incomplete societies, in which

the members met simply as _disciples_; they believed them necessary at

a period when the church was forming. These societies (in the

reformers' views) proved that organization has not the priority in the

Christian church, as Rome maintains, and that this priority belongs to

the faith and the life. But this imperfect form they also regarded as

provisional. To prevent numerous dangers, it was necessary that this

society should be succeeded by another, the church of the New

Testament, with its elders or bishops, and deacons. The word, they

thought, rendered a ministry of the word necessary; and for its proper

exercise not only piety was required, but a knowledge of the sacred

languages, the gift of eloquence, its exercise and perfection.

However, there was no division among these Christians upon secondary

matters.

For some time the bishop of London watched this movement with

uneasiness. He caused Hacker to be arrested, who, for six years past,

had gone from house to house reading the Bible in London and Essex;

examined and threatened him, inquired carefully after the names of

those who had shown him hospitality; and the poor man in alarm had

given up about forty of his brethren. Sebastian Harris, priest of

Kensington, Forman, rector of All Hallows, John and William Pykas, and

many others, were summoned before the bishop. They were taken to

prison; they were led before the judges; they were put in the stocks;

they were tormented in a thousand ways. Their minds became confused;

their thoughts wandered; and many made the confessions required by

their persecutors.

[Sidenote: MONMOUTH ARRESTED.]

The adversaries of the gospel, proud of this success, now desired a

more glorious victory. If they could not reach Tyndale, had they not

in London the patron of his work, Monmouth, the most influential of

the merchants, and a follower of the true faith? The clergy had made

religion their business, and the Reformation restored it to the

people. Nothing offended the priests so much, as that laymen should

claim the right to believe without their intervention, and even to

propagate the faith. Sir Thomas More, one of the most amiable men of

the sixteenth century, participated in their hatred. He wrote to

Cochlæus: "Germany now daily bringeth forth monsters more deadly than

what Africa was wont to do;[852] but, alas! she is not alone. Numbers

of Englishmen, who would not a few years ago even hear Luther's name

mentioned, are now publishing his praises! England is now like the

sea, which swells and heaves before a great storm, without any wind

stirring it."[853] More felt particularly irritated, because the

boldness of the gospellers had succeeded to the timidity of the

Lollards. "The heretics," he said, "have put off hypocrisy, and put on

impudence." He therefore resolved to set his hand to the work.

[852] More's Life, p. 82.

[853] Ibid. p. 117.

On the 14th of May 1529, Monmouth was in his shop, when an usher came

and summoned him to appear before Sir J. Dauncies, one of the privy

council. The pious merchant obeyed, striving to persuade himself that

he was wanted on some matter of business; but in this he was deceived,

as he soon found out. "What letters and books have you lately received

from abroad?"[854] asked with some severity, Sir Thomas More, who,

with Sir William Kingston, was Sir John's colleague. "None," replied

Monmouth. "What aid have you given to any persons living on the

continent?"--"None, for these last three years. William Tyndale abode

with me six months," he continued, "and his life was what a good

priest's ought to be. I gave him ten pounds at the period of his

departure, but nothing since. Besides, he is not the only one I have

helped; the bishop of London's chaplain, for instance, has received of

me more than £50."--"What books have you in your possession?" The

merchant named the New Testament and some other works. "All these

books have lain more than two years on my table, and I never heard

that either priests, friars, or laymen learnt any great errors from

them."[855] More tossed his head. "It is a hard matter," he used to

say, "to put a dry stick in the fire without its burning, or to

nourish a snake in our bosom and not be stung by it.[856]--That is

enough," he continued, "we shall go and search your house." Not a

paper escaped their curiosity; but they found nothing to compromise

Monmouth; he was however sent to the Tower.

[854] Strype's Records, p. 363.

[855] Ibid. p. 365.

[856] More's life, p. 116.

[Sidenote: HE IS INTERROGATED BY MORE.]

After some interval the merchant was again brought before his judges.

"You are accused," said More, "of having bought Martin Luther's

tracts; of maintaining those who are translating the Scriptures into

English; of subscribing to get the New Testament printed in English,

with or without glosses; of having imported it into the kingdom; and,

lastly, of having said that faith alone is sufficient to save a

man."[857]

[857] Strype's Mem. i. p. 490.

There was matter enough to burn several men. Monmouth, feeling

convinced that Wolsey alone had power to deliver him, resolved to

apply to him. "What will become of my poor workmen in London and in

the country during my imprisonment?" he wrote to the cardinal. "They

must have their money every week; who will give it them?... Besides, I

make considerable sales in foreign countries, which bring large

returns to his majesty's customs.[858] If I remain in prison, this

commerce is stopped, and of course all the proceeds for the

exchequer." Wolsey, who was as much a statesman as a churchman, began

to melt; on the eve of a struggle with the pope and the emperor, he

feared, besides, to make the people discontented. Monmouth was

released from prison. As alderman, and then as sheriff of London, he

was faithful until death, and ordered in his last will that thirty

sermons should be preached by the most evangelical ministers in

England, "to make known the holy word of Jesus Christ."--"That is

better," he thought, "than founding masses." The Reformation showed,

in the sixteenth century, that great activity in commerce might be

allied to great piety.

[858] Strype, Records, i. p. 367.

CHAPTER III.

Political Changes--Fresh Instructions from the Pope to

Campeggio--His delays--He unbosoms himself to Francis--A

Prediction--Arrival of Campeggio--Wolsey's

Uneasiness--Henry's Satisfaction--The Cardinal's

Project--Campeggio's Reception--First Interview with the

Queen and with the King--Useless Efforts to make Campeggio

part with the Decretal--The Nuncio's Conscience--Public

Opinion--Measures taken by the King--His Speech to the Lords

and Aldermen--Festivities--Wolsey seeks French

Support--Contrariety.

[Sidenote: THE POPE CHANGES.]

While these persecutions were agitating the fields and the capital of

England, all had changed in the ecclesiastical world, because all had

changed in the political. The pope, pressed by Henry VIII and

intimidated by the armies of Francis I, had granted the decretal and

despatched Campeggio. But, on a sudden, there was a new evolution; a

change of events brought a change of counsels. Doria had gone over to

the emperor; his fleet had restored abundance to Naples; the army of

Francis I, ravaged by famine and pestilence, had capitulated, and

Charles V, triumphant in Italy, had said proudly to the pope: "We are

determined to defend the queen of England against King Henry's

injustice."[859]

[859] Cum Cæsar materteræ suæ causam contra injurias Henrici

propugnaverit. Sanders, p. 28.

Charles having recovered his superiority, the affrighted pope opened

his eyes to the justice of Catherine's cause. "Send four messengers

after Campeggio," said he to his officers; "and let each take a

different road; bid them travel with all speed and deliver our

despatches to him."[860] They overtook the legate, who opened the

pope's letters. "In the first place," said Clement VII to him,

"protract your journey. In the second place, when you reach England,

use every endeavour to reconcile the king and queen. In the third

place, if you do not succeed, persuade the queen to take the veil. And

in the last place, if she refuses, do not pronounce any sentence

favourable to the divorce without a new and express order from me.

This is the essential: _Summum et maximum mandatum_." The ambassador

of the sovereign pontiff had a mission to do nothing. This instruction

is sometimes as effective as any.

[860] Quatuor nuncios celerrimo cursu diversis itineribus ad Campegium

misit. Ibid. et Herbert, p. 253.

Campeggio, the youngest of the cardinals, was the most intelligent

and the slowest; and this slowness caused his selection by the pope.

He understood his master. If Wolsey was Henry's spur to urge on

Campeggio, the latter was Clement's bridle to check Wolsey.[861] One

of the judges of the divorce was about to pull forwards, the other

backwards; thus the business stood a chance of not advancing at all,

which was just what the pope required.

[861] Fuller, book v. p. 172.

The legate, very eager to relax his speed, spent three months on his

journey from Italy to England. He should have embarked for France on

the 23rd of July; but the end of August was approaching, and no one

knew in that country what had become of him.[862] At length they

learnt that he had reached Lyons on the 22nd of August. The English

ambassador in France sent him horses, carriages, plate, and money, in

order to hasten his progress; the legate complained of the _gout_, and

Gardiner found the greatest difficulty in getting him to move. Henry

wrote every day to Anne Boleyn, complaining of the slow progress of

the nuncio. "He arrived in Paris last Sunday or Monday," he says at

the beginning of September; "Monday next we shall hear of his arrival

in Calais, and then I shall obtain what I have so longed for, to God's

pleasure and both our comforts."[863]

[862] State Papers, vii. p. 91, 92.

[863] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 117.

[Sidenote: ANNE'S LETTER TO WOLSEY.]

At the same time, this impatient prince sent message after message to

accelerate the legate's rate of travelling.

Anne began to desire a future which surpassed all that her youthful

imagination had conceived, and her agitated heart expanded to the

breath of hope. She wrote to Wolsey:

"This shall be to give unto your grace, as I am most bound,

my humble thanks for the great pain and travail that your

grace doth take in studying, by your wisdom and great

diligence, how to bring to pass honourably the greatest

wealth [well-being] that is possible to come to any creature

living; and in especial remembering how wretched and

unworthy I am in comparison to his highness.... Now, good my

lord, your discretion may consider as yet how little it is

in my power to recompense you but alonely [only] with my

good will; the which I assure you, look what thing in this

world I can imagine to do you pleasure in, you shall find me

the gladdest woman in the world to do it."[864]

[864] Ibid. p. 151.

[Sidenote: A CRUEL PROPHECY.]

But the impatience of the king of England and of Anne seemed as if it

would never be satisfied. Campeggio, on his way through Paris, told

Francis I that the divorce would never take place, and that he should

soon go to _Spain_ to see Charles V.... This was significative. "The

king of England ought to know," said the indignant Francis to the duke

of Suffolk, "that Campeggio is _imperialist_ at heart, and that his

mission in England will be a mere mockery."[865]

[865] The cardinal intended not that your Grace's matter should take

effect, but only to use dissimulation with your Grace, for he is

entirely imperial. Suffolk to Henry, State Papers, vii. p. 183.

In truth, the Spanish and Roman factions tried every manœuvre to

prevent a union they detested. Anne Boleyn, queen of England,

signified not only Catherine humbled, but Charles offended; the

clerical party awakened, perhaps destroyed, and the evangelical party

put in its place. The Romish faction found accomplices even in Anne's

own family. Her brother George's wife, a proud and passionate woman,

and a rigid Roman catholic, had sworn an implacable hatred against her

young sister. By this means wounds might be inflicted, even in the

domestic sanctuary, which would not be the less deep because they were

the work of her own kindred. One day we are told that Anne found in

her chamber a book of pretended prophecies, in which was a picture

representing a king, a queen shedding tears, and at their feet a young

lady headless. Anne turned away her eyes with disgust. She desired,

however, to know what this emblem signified, and officious friends

brought to her one of those pretended wise men, so numerous at all

times, who abuse the credulity of the ignorant by professing to

interpret such mysteries. "This prophetic picture," he said,

"represents the history of the king and his wife." Anne was not

credulous, but she understood what her enemies meant to insinuate, and

dismissed the mock interpreter without betraying any signs of fear;

then turning to her favourite attendant, Anne Saville, "Come hither,

Nan," said she, "look at this book of prophecies; this is the king,

this the queen wringing her hands and mourning, and this (putting her

finger on the bleeding body) is _myself_, with my head cut off."--The

young lady answered with a shudder: "If I thought it were true, I

would not myself have him were he an emperor."--"Tut, Nan," replied

Anne Boleyn with a sweet smile, "I think the book a bauble, and am

resolved to have him, that my issue may be royal, whatever may become

of me."[866] This story is based on good authority, and there were so

many predictions of this kind afloat that it is very possible one of

them might come true; people afterwards recollected only the

prophecies confirmed by the events. But, be that as it may, this

young lady, so severely chastised in after-days, found in her God an

abundant consolation.

[866] Wyatt, p. 430.

[Sidenote: ARRIVAL OF CAMPEGGIO.]

At length Campeggio embarked at Calais on the 29th of September, and

unfortunately for him he had an excellent passage across the channel.

A storm to drive him back to the French coast would have suited him

admirably. But on the 1st of October he was at Canterbury, whence he

announced his arrival to the king. At this news, Henry forgot all the

delays which had so irritated him. "His majesty can never be

sufficiently grateful to your holiness for so great a favour," wrote

Wolsey to the pope; "but he will employ his riches, his kingdom, his

life even, and deserve the name of _Restorer of the Church_ as justly

as he has gained that of _Defender of the Faith_." This zeal alarmed

Campeggio, for the pope wrote to him that any proceeding which might

irritate Charles would inevitably cause the ruin of the church.[867]

The nuncio became more dilatory than ever, and although he reached

Canterbury on the 1st of October, he did not arrive at Dartford until

the 5th, thus taking four days for a journey of about thirty

miles.[868]

[867] Sanga to Campeggio, from Viterbo, 27th September. Ranke,

Deutsche Gesch. iii, p. 135.

[868] State Papers, vii. p. 94, 95.

Meanwhile preparations were making to receive him in London. Wolsey,

feeling contempt for the poverty of the Roman cardinals, and very

uneasy about the equipage with which his colleague was likely to make

his entrance into the capital, sent a number of showy chests, rich

carpets, litters hung with drapery, and harnessed mules. On the other

hand Campeggio, whose secret mission was to keep in the back-ground,

and above all to do nothing, feared these banners, and trappings, and

all the parade of a triumphal entry. Alleging therefore an attack of

gout in order to escape from the pomps his colleague had prepared for

him, he quietly took a boat, and thus reached the palace of the bishop

of Bath, where he was to lodge.

While the nuncio was thus proceeding unnoticed up the Thames, the

equipages sent by Wolsey entered London through the midst of a gaping

crowd, who looked on them with curiosity as if they had come from the

banks of the Tiber. Some of the mules however took fright and ran

away, the coffers fell off and burst open, when there was a general

rush to see their contents; but to the surprise of all they were

empty. This was an excellent jest for the citizens of London. "Fine

outside, empty inside; a just emblem of the popedom, its embassy, and

foolish pomps," they said; "a sham legate, a procession of masks, and

the whole a farce!"

[Sidenote: ANNE'S INDECISION TERMINATED.]

Campeggio was come at last, and now what he dreaded most was an

audience. "I cannot move," he said, "or endure the motion of a

litter."[869] Never had an attack of gout been more seasonable.

Wolsey, who paid him frequent visits, soon found him to be his equal

in cunning. To no purpose did he treat him with every mark of respect,

shaking his hand and making much of him;[870] it was labour lost, the

Roman nuncio would say nothing, and Wolsey began to despair. The king,

on the contrary, was full of hope, and fancied he already had the act

of divorce in his portfolio, because he had the nuncio in his kingdom.

[869] Despatch from the bishop of Bayonne, 16th October, 1529. Le

Grand, Preuves, p. 169.

[870] Quem sæpius visitavi et amantissime sum complexus. (State

Papers, vii, p. 103.) Whom often I have visited, and most lovingly

embraced.

The greatest effect of the nuncio's arrival was the putting an end to

Anne Boleyn's indecision. She had several relapses: the trials which

she foresaw, and the grief Catherine must necessarily feel, had

agitated her imagination and disturbed her mind. But when she saw the

church and her own enemies prepared to pronounce the king's divorce,

her doubts were removed, and she regarded as legitimate the position

that was offered her. The king, who suffered from her scruples, was

delighted at this change. "I desire to inform you," he wrote to her in

English, "what joy it is to me to understand of your conformableness

with reason, and of the suppressing of your inutile and vain thoughts

and fantasies with the bridle of reason. I assure you all the

greatness of this world could not counterpoise for my satisfaction the

knowledge and certainty thereof.... The unfeigned sickness of this

well-willing legate doth somewhat retard his access to your

person."[871] It was therefore the determination of the pope that made

Anne Boleyn resolve to accept Henry's hand; this is an important

lesson for which we are indebted to the _Vatican letters_. We should

be grateful to the papacy for having so carefully preserved them.

[871] Pamphleteer, No. 43. p. 123.

[Sidenote: CAMPEGGIO'S INTERVIEW WITH THE QUEEN.]

But the more Henry rejoiced, the more Wolsey despaired; he would have

desired to penetrate into Clement's thoughts, but could not succeed.

Imagining that De Angelis, the general of the Spanish Observance, knew

all the secrets of the pope and of the emperor, he conceived the plan

of kidnapping him. "If he goes to Spain by sea," said he to Du Bellay,

"a good brigantine or two would do the business; and if by land, it

will be easier still." Du Bellay failed not (as he informs us himself)

"to tell him plainly that by such proceedings he would entirely

forfeit the pope's good will."--"What matter?" replied Wolsey, "I

have nothing to lose." As he said this, tears started to his

eyes.[872] At last he made up his mind to remain ignorant of the

pontiff's designs, and wiped his eyes, awaiting, not without fear, the

interview between Henry and Campeggio.

[872] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 21st October. Le Grand, Preuves, p.

185.

On the 22nd of October, a month after his arrival, the nuncio, borne

in a sedan chair of red velvet, was carried to court. He was placed on

the right of the throne, and his secretary in his name delivered a

high-sounding speech, saluting Henry with the name of Saviour of Rome,

_Liberator urbis_. "His majesty," replied Fox in the king's name, "has

only performed the duties incumbent on a Christian prince, and he

hopes that the holy see will bear them in mind."--"Well attacked, well

defended," said Du Bellay. For the moment, a few Latin declamations

got the papal nuncio out of his difficulties.

Campeggio did not deceive himself: if the divorce were refused, he

foresaw the reformation of England. Yet he hoped still, for he was

assured that Catherine would submit to the judgment of the church; and

being fully persuaded that the queen would refuse the holy father

nothing, the nuncio began "his approaches," as Du Bellay calls them.

On the 27th of October, the two cardinals waited on Catherine, and in

flattering terms insinuated that she might prevent the blow which

threatened her by voluntary retirement into a convent. And then, to

end all indecision in the queen's mind, Campeggio put on a severe look

and exclaimed: "How is it, madam, explain the mystery to us? From the

moment the holy father appointed us to examine the question of your

divorce, you have been seen not only at court, but in public, wearing

the most magnificent ornaments, participating with an appearance of

gaiety and satisfaction at amusements and festivities which you had

never tolerated before.... The church is in the most cruel

embarrassment with regard to you; the king, your husband, is in the

greatest perplexity; the princess, your daughter, is taken from you

... and instead of shedding tears, you give yourself up to vanity.

Renounce the world, madam; enter a nunnery. Our holy father himself

requires this of you."[873]

[873] Ibid. 1st November, p. 195.

[Sidenote: CATHERINE'S REPLY.]

The agitated queen was almost fainting; stifling her emotion, however,

she said mildly but firmly: "Alas! my lords, is it now a question

whether I am the king's lawful wife or not, when I have been married

to him almost twenty years and no objection raised before?... Divers

prelates and lords are yet alive who then adjudged our marriage good

and lawful,--and now to say it is detestable! this is a great marvel

to me, especially when I consider what a wise prince the king's father

was, and also the natural love and affection my father, King

Ferdinand, bare unto me. I think that neither of these illustrious

princes would have made me contract an illicit union." At these words,

Catherine's emotion compelled her to stop.--"If I weep, my lords," she

continued almost immediately, "it is not for myself, it is for a

person dearer to me than my life. What! I should consent to an act

which deprives my daughter of a crown? No, I will not sacrifice my

child. I know what dangers threaten me. I am only a weak woman, a

stranger, without learning, advisers, or friends ... and my enemies

are skilful, learned in the laws, and desirous to merit their master's

favour ... and more than that, even my judges are my enemies. Can I

receive as such," she said as she looked at Campeggio, "a man extorted

from the pope by manifest lying?... And as for you," added she,

turning haughtily to Wolsey, "having failed in attaining the tiara,

you have sworn to revenge yourself on my nephew the emperor ... and

you have kept him true promise; for all his wars and vexations, he may

only thank you. One victim was not enough for you. Forging abominable

suppositions, you desire to plunge his aunt into a frightful abyss....

But my cause is just, and I trust it in the Lord's hand." After this

bold language, the unhappy Catherine withdrew to her apartments. The

imminence of the danger effected a salutary revolution in her; she

laid aside her brilliant ornaments, assumed the sober garments in

which she is usually represented, and passed days and nights in

mourning and in tears.[874]

[874] Regina in luctu et lacrymis noctes diesque egit. Sanders, p. 29.

Thus Campeggio saw his hopes deceived; he had thought to find a nun,

and had met a queen and a mother.... He now proceeded to set every

imaginable spring at work; as Catherine would not renounce Henry, he

must try and prevail upon Henry to renounce his idea of separating

from the queen. The Roman legate therefore changed his batteries, and

turned them against the king.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S INTERVIEW WITH THE NUNCIO.]

Henry, always impatient, went one day unannounced to Campeggio's

lodging, accompanied by Wolsey only:[875] "As we are without

witnesses," he said, taking his seat familiarly between the two

cardinals, "let us speak freely of our affairs.[876]--How shall you

proceed?" But to his great astonishment and grief,[877] the nuncio

prayed him, with all imaginable delicacy, to renounce the

divorce.[878] At these words the fiery Tudor burst out: "Is this how

the pope keeps his word? He sends me an ambassador to annul my

marriage, but in reality to confirm it." He made a pause. Campeggio

knew not what to say. Henry and Catherine being equally persuaded of

the justice of their cause, the nuncio was in a dilemma. Wolsey

himself suffered a martyrdom.[879] The king's anger grew fiercer; he

had thought the legate would hasten to withdraw an imprudent

expression, but Campeggio was dumb. "I see that you have chosen your

part," said Henry to the nuncio; "mine, you may be sure, will soon be

taken also. Let the pope only persevere in this way of acting, and the

apostolical see, covered with perpetual infamy, will be visited with a

frightful destruction."[880] The lion had thrown off the lamb's skin

which he had momentarily assumed. Campeggio felt that he must appease

the monarch. "Craft and delay" were his orders from Rome; and with

that view the pope had provided him with the necessary arms. He

hastened to produce the famous _decretal_ which pronounced the

divorce. "The holy father," he told the king, "ardently desires that

this matter should be terminated by a happy reconciliation between you

and the queen; but if that is impossible, you shall judge yourself

whether or not his holiness can keep his promises." He then read the

bull, and even showed it to Henry, without permitting it, however, to

leave his hands. This exhibition produced the desired effect: Henry

grew calm. "Now I am at ease again," he said; "this miraculous

talisman revives all my courage. This decretal is the efficacious

remedy that will restore peace to my oppressed conscience, and joy to

my bruised heart.[881] Write to his holiness, that this immense

benefit binds me to him so closely, that he may expect from me more

than his imagination can conceive."

And yet a few clouds gathered shortly after in the king's mind.

Campeggio having shown the bull had hastened to lock it up again.

Would he presume to keep it in his own hands? Henry and Wolsey will

leave no means untried to get possession of it; that point gained, and

victory is theirs.

[875] Regia majestas et ego ad eum crebro accessimus. State Papers,

vii. p. 103.

[876] Rex et duo cardinales, remotis arbitris, de suis rebus multum et

diu collocuti. Sanders, P. 29.

[877] Incredibili utriusque nostrum animi mœrore. State Papers, vii.

p. 104.

[878] Conatus est omne divortium inter regiam majestatem et reginam

dissuadere. Ibid.

[879] Non absque ingenti cruciatu. Ibid.

[880] Ingemiscendum excidium, perpetua infamia. Ibid.

[881] Remedium levamenque afflictæ oppressaque conscientiæ. Ibid.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY REFUSED THE DECRETAL.]

Wolsey having returned to the nuncio, he asked him for the decretal

with an air of candour as if it was the most natural thing in the

world. He desired, he said, to show it to the king's privy-councillors.

"The pope," replied Campeggio, "has granted this bull, not to be used,

but to be kept secret;[882] he simply desired to show the king the

good feeling by which he was animated." Wolsey having failed, Henry

tried his skill. "Have the goodness to hand me the bull which you

showed me," said he. The nuncio respectfully refused. "For a single

moment," he said. Campeggio still refused. The haughty Tudor retired,

stifling his anger. Then Wolsey made another attempt, and founded his

demand on justice. "Like you, I am delegated by his holiness to decide

this affair," he said, "and I wish to study the important document

which is to regulate our proceedings."--This was met by a new refusal.

"What!" exclaimed the minister of Henry VIII, "am I not, like you, a

cardinal?... like you, a judge? your colleague?" It mattered not, the

nuncio would not, by any means, let the decretal go.[883] Clement was

not deceived in the choice he had made of Campeggio; the ambassador

was worthy of his master.

[882] Non ut ea uteremur, sed ut secreta haberetur. State Papers, vii.

p. 104.

[883] Nullo pacto adduci vult, ut mihi, _suo collegæ_, commissionem

hanc decretalem e suis manibus credat. (Ibid. p. 105.) By no

engagement could he be induced, to trust out of his hands, to me, his

colleague that decretal commission.

It was evident that the pope in granting the bull had been acting a

part: this trick revolted the king. It was no longer anger that he

felt, but disgust. Wolsey knew that Henry's contempt was more to be

feared than his wrath. He grew alarmed, and paid the nuncio another

visit. "The _general_ commission," he said, "is insufficient, the

_decretal_ commission alone can be of service, and you do not permit

us to read a word of it.[884]... The king and I place the greatest

confidence in the good intentions of his holiness, and yet we find our

expectations frustrated.[885] Where is that paternal affection with

which we had flattered ourselves? What prince has ever been trifled

with as the king of England is now? If this is the way in which the

_Defender of the Faith_ is rewarded, Christendom will know what those

who serve Rome will have to expect from her, and every power will

withdraw its support. Do not deceive yourselves: the foundation on

which the holy see is placed is so very insecure that the least

movement will suffice to precipitate it into everlasting ruin.[886]

What a sad futurity!... what inexpressible torture!... whether I wake

or sleep, gloomy thoughts continually pursue me like a frightful

nightmare."[887] This time Wolsey spoke the truth.

[884] Nec ullum verbum nec mentionem ullam. Ibid.

[885] Esse omnni spe frustratos quam in præfata Sanctitate tam ingenue

reposueramus. Ibid.

[886] A fundamento tam levi, incertaque statera pendeat, ut in

sempiternam ruinam. State Papers, vii, p. 106.

[887] Quanto animi cruciatu ... vigilans dormiensque. Ibid. p. 108.

[Sidenote: THE NUNCIO REFUSES EVERYTHING.]

But all his eloquence was useless; Campeggio refused to give up the so

much desired bull. When sending him, Rome had told him: "Above all, do

not succeed!" This means having failed, there remained for Wolsey one

other way of effecting the divorce. "Well, then," he said to

Campeggio, "let us pronounce it ourselves."--"Far be it from us,"

replied the nuncio; "the anger of the emperor will be so great, that

the peace of Europe will be broken for ever."--"I know how to arrange

all that," replied the English cardinal, "in political matters you may

trust to me."[888] The nuncio then took another tone, and proudly

wrapping himself up in his morality, he said: "I shall follow the

voice of my conscience; if I see that the divorce is possible, I shall

leap the ditch; if otherwise, I shall not."--"Your conscience! that

may be easily satisfied," rejoined Wolsey. "Holy Scripture forbids a

man to marry his brother's widow; now no pope can grant what is

forbidden by the law of God."--"The Lord preserve us from such a

principle," exclaimed the Roman prelate; "the power of the pope is

unlimited."--The nuncio had hardly put his conscience forward before

it stumbled; it bound him to Rome and not to heaven. But for that

matter, neither public opinion nor Campeggio's own friends had any

great idea of his morality; they thought that to make him _leap the

ditch_, it was only requisite to know the price at which he might be

bought. The bishop of Bayonne wrote to Montmorency: "Put at the close

of a letter which I can show Campeggio something _promissory_, that he

shall have _benefices_.... That will cost you nothing, and may serve

in this matter of the marriage; for I know that he is longing for

something of the sort."--"What is to be done then," said Wolsey at

last, astonished at meeting with a resistance to which he was

unaccustomed. "I shall inform the pope of what I have seen and heard,"

replied Campeggio, "and I shall wait for his instructions." Henry was

forced to consent to this new course, for the nuncio hinted, that if

it were opposed he would go in person to Rome to ask the pontiff's

orders, and he never would have returned. By this means several months

were gained.

[888] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 266.

[Sidenote: THE PEOPLE SUPPORT CATHERINE.]

During this time men's minds were troubled. The prospect of a divorce

between the king and queen had stirred the nation; and the majority,

particularly among the women, declared against the king. "Whatever may

be done," the people said boldly, "whoever marries the princess Mary

will be king of England."[889] Wolsey's spies informed him that

Catherine and Charles V had many devoted partizans even at the court.

He wished to make sure of this. "It is pretended," he said one day in

an indifferent tone, "that the emperor has boasted that he will get

the king driven from his realm, and that by his majesty's own

subjects.... What do you think of it, my lords?"--"Tough against the

spur," says Du Bellay, the lords remained silent. At length, however,

one of them more imprudent than the rest, exclaimed: "Such a boast

will make the emperor lose more than a hundred thousand Englishmen."

This was enough for Wolsey. To _lose_ them, he thought, Charles must

_have_ them. If Catherine thought of levying war against her husband,

following the example of former queens of England, she would have,

then, a party ready to support her; this became dangerous.

[889] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 8th November 1528. Le Grand, Preuves,

p. 204.

The king and the cardinal immediately took their measures. More than

15,000 of Charles's subjects were ordered to leave London; the arms of

the citizens were seized, "in order that they might have no worse

weapon than the tongue;"[890] the Flemish councillors accorded to

Catherine were dismissed after they had been heard by the king and

Campeggio, "for they had no commission to speak to _the other_

[Wolsey]"--and finally, they kept "a great and constant watch" upon

the country. Men feared an invasion of England, and Henry was not of a

humour to subject his kingdom to the pope.

[890] Ibid. p. 232.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S SPEECH.]

This was not enough; the alarmed king thought it his duty to come to

an explanation with his people; and having summoned the lords

spiritual and temporal, the judges, the members of the privy-council,

the mayor and aldermen of the city, and many of the gentry, to meet

him at his palace of Bridewell on the 13th of November,[891] he said

to them with a very condescending air: "You know, my lords and

gentlemen, that for these twenty years past divine Providence has

granted our country such prosperity as it had never known before. But

in the midst of all the glory that surrounds me, the thought of my

last hour often occurs to me,[892] and I fear that if I should die

without an heir, my death would cause more damage to my people than my

life has done them good. God forbid, that for want of a legitimate

king England should be again plunged into the horrors of civil war!"

Then calling to mind the illegalities invalidating his marriage with

Catherine, the king continued: "These thoughts have filled my mind

with anxiety, and are continually pricking my conscience. This is the

only motive, and God is my witness,[893] which has made me lay this

matter before the pontiff. As touching the queen, she is a woman

incomparable in gentleness, humility, and buxomness, as I these twenty

years have had experiment of; so that if I were to marry again, if the

marriage might be good, I would surely choose her above all other

women. But if it be determined by judgment that our marriage was

against God's law, and surely void, then I shall not only sorrow in

departing from so good a lady and loving companion, but much more

lament and bewail my unfortunate chance, that I have so long lived in

adultery, to God's great displeasure, and have no true heir of my body

to inherit this realm.... Therefore I require of you all to pray with

us that the very truth may be known, for the discharging of our

conscience and the saving of our soul."[894] These words, though

wanting in sincerity, were well calculated to soothe men's minds.

Unfortunately, it appears that after this _speech from the crown_, the

official copy of which has been preserved, Henry added a few words of

his own. "If, however," he said, according to Du Bellay, casting a

threatening glance around him, "there should be any man whatsoever who

speaks of his prince in other than becoming terms, I will show him

that I am the master, and there is no head so high that I will not

roll it from his shoulders."[895] This was a speech in Henry's style;

but we cannot give unlimited credit to Du Bellay's assertions, this

diplomatist being very fond, like others of his class, of "seasoning"

his despatches. But whatever may be the fact as regards the

postscript, the speech on the divorce produced an effect. From that

time there were no more jests, not even on the part of the Boleyns'

enemies. Some supported the king, others were content to pity the

queen in secret; the majority prepared to take advantage of a

court-revolution which every one foresaw. "The king _so plainly_ gave

them to understand his pleasure," says the French ambassador, "that

they speak more soberly than they have done hitherto."

[891] This act is dated Idibus Novembris. Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p.

714. Herbert and Collyer say the 8th November.

[892] In mentem una venit et concurrit mortis cogitatio. Ibid.

[893] Hæc una res quod Deo teste et in regis oraculo affirmamus.

Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 714.

[894] Hall, p. 754.

[895] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 17th November 1528. Le Grand, Preuves,

p. 218.

[Sidenote: DU BELLAY SOLICITS CAMPEGGIO.]

Henry wishing to silence the clamours of the people, and to allay the

fears felt by the higher classes, gave several magnificent

entertainments at one time in London, at another at Greenwich, now at

Hampton Court, and then at Richmond. The queen accompanied him, but

Anne generally remained "in a very handsome lodging which Henry had

furnished for her," says Du Bellay. The cardinal, following his

master's example, gave representations of French plays with great

magnificence. All his hope was in France. "I desire nothing in

England, neither in word nor in deed, which is not French,"[896] he

said to the bishop of Bayonne. At length Anne Boleyn had accepted the

brilliant position she had at first refused, and every day her stately

mansion (Suffolk House) was filled with a numerous court,--"more than

ever had crowded to the queen."--"Yes, yes," said Du Bellay, as he saw

the crowd turning towards the _rising sun_, "they wish by these

_little_ things to accustom the people to endure her, that when

_great_ ones are attempted, they may not be found so strange."

[896] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 1st January. Le Grand, p. 268.

[Sidenote: TRUE CATHOLICITY.]

In the midst of these festivities the grand business did not slumber.

When the French ambassador solicited the subsidy intended for the

ransom of the sons of Francis I, the cardinal required of him in

exchange a paper proving that the marriage had never been valid. Du

Bellay excused himself on the ground of his age and want of learning;

but being given to understand that he could not have the subsidy

without it, he wrote the memoir in a single day. The enraptured

cardinal and king entreated him to speak with Campeggio.[897] The

ambassador consented, and succeeded beyond all expectation. The

nuncio, fully aware that a bow too much bent will break, made Henry by

turns become the sport of hope and fear. "Take care how you assert

that the pope had not the right to grant a dispensation to the king,"

said he to the French bishop, "this would be denying _his power, which

is infinite_. But," added he in a mysterious tone, "I will point out a

road that will infallibly lead you to the mark. Show that the holy

father has been deceived by false information. _Push me hard on

that_," he continued "so as to force me to declare that the

dispensation was granted on erroneous grounds."[898] Thus did the

legate himself reveal the breach by which the fortress might be

surprised. "Victory!" exclaimed Henry, as he entered Anne's apartments

all beaming with joy.

[897] Ibid. p. 200.

[898] Poussez-moi cela raide. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand,

Preuves, p. 217.

But this confidence on the part of Campeggio was only a new trick.

"There is a great rumour at court," wrote Du Bellay soon after, "that

the emperor and the king of France are coming together, and leaving

Henry alone, so that all will fall on his shoulders."[899] Wolsey,

finding that the intrigues of diplomacy had failed, thought it his

duty to put fresh springs in motion, "and by all good and honest means

to gain the pope's favour."[900] He saw, besides, to his great sorrow,

the new catholicity then forming in the world, and uniting, by the

closest bonds, the Christians of England to those of the continent. To

strike down one of the leaders of this evangelical movement might

incline the court of Rome in Henry's favour. The cardinal undertook,

therefore, to persecute Tyndale; and this resolution will now

transport us to Germany.

[899] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 219.

[900] Ibid. p. 225.

CHAPTER IV.

True Catholicity--Wolsey--Harman's Matter--West sent to

Cologne--Labours of Tyndale and Fryth--Rincke at

Frankfort--He makes a Discovery--Tyndale at Marburg--West

returns to England--His Tortures in the Monastery.

The residence of Tyndale and his friends in foreign countries, and the

connections there formed with pious Christians, testify to the

fraternal spirit which the Reformation then restored to the church. It

is in protestantism that true catholicity is to be found. The Romish

church is not a catholic church. Separated from the churches of the

east, which are the oldest in Christendom, and from the reformed

churches, which are the purest, it is nothing but a sect, and that a

degenerated one. A church which should profess to believe in an

episcopal unity, but which kept itself separate from the episcopacy of

Rome and of the East, and from the evangelical churches, would be no

longer a catholic church; it would be a sect more sectarian still than

that of the Vatican, a fragment of a fragment. The church of the

Saviour requires a truer, a diviner unity than that of priests, who

condemn one another. It was the reformers, and particularly

Tyndale,[901] who proclaimed throughout Christendom the existence of a

_body of Christ_, of which all the children of God are members. The

disciples of the Reformation are the true catholics.

[901] The Church of Christ is the multitude of all them that believe

in Christ, etc. Exposition of Matthew, Prologue.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S CATHOLICITY.]

It was a catholicity of another sort that Wolsey desired to uphold. He

did not reject certain reforms in the church, particularly such as

brought him any profit; but, before all, he wished to preserve for the

hierarchy their privileges and uniformity. The Romish Church in

England was then personified in him, and if he fell, its ruin would be

near. His political talents and multiplied relations with the

continent, caused him to discern more clearly than others the dangers

which threatened the popedom. The publication of the Scriptures of God

in English appeared to some a cloud without importance, which would

soon disappear from the horizon; but to the foreseeing glance of

Wolsey, it betokened a mighty tempest. Besides, he loved not the

fraternal relations then forming between the evangelical Christians of

Great Britain and of other nations. Annoyed by this spiritual

catholicity, he resolved to procure the arrest of Tyndale, who was its

principal organ.

Already had Hackett, Henry's envoy to the Low Countries, caused the

imprisonment of Harman, an Antwerp merchant, one of the principal

supporters of the English reformer. But Hackett had in vain asked

Wolsey for such documents as would convict him of _treason_ (for the

crime of loving the Bible was not sufficient to procure Harman's

condemnation in Brabant); the envoy had remained without letters from

England, and the last term fixed by the law having expired, Harman and

his wife were liberated after seven months' imprisonment.

And yet Wolsey had not been inactive. The cardinal hoped to find

elsewhere the co-operation which Margaret of Austria refused. It was

Tyndale that he wanted, and everything seemed to indicate that he was

then hidden at Cologne or in its neighbourhood. Wolsey, recollecting

senator Rincke and the services he had already performed, determined

to send to him one John West, a friar of the Franciscan convent at

Greenwich. West, a somewhat narrow-minded but energetic man, was very

desirous of distinguishing himself, and he had already gained some

notoriety in England among the adversaries of the Reformation.

Flattered by his mission, this vain monk immediately set off for

Antwerp, accompanied by another friar, in order to seize Tyndale, and

even Roy, once his colleague at Greenwich, and against whom he had

there ineffectually contended in argument.

While these men were conspiring his ruin, Tyndale composed several

works, got them printed, and sent to England, and prayed God night and

day to enlighten his fellow-countrymen. "Why do give you give yourself

so much trouble," said some of his friends. "They will burn your books

as they have burnt the Gospel." "They will only do what I expect,"

replied he, "if they burn me also." Already he beheld his own burning

pile in the distance; but it was a sight which only served to increase

his zeal. Hidden, like Luther at the Wartburg, not however in a

castle, but in a humble lodging, Tyndale, like the Saxon reformer,

spent his days and nights translating the Bible. But not having an

elector of Saxony to protect him, he was forced to change his

residence from time to time.

[Sidenote: GENESIS AND DEUTERONOMY TRANSLATED.]

At this epoch, Fryth, who had escaped from the prisons of Oxford,

rejoined Tyndale, and the sweets of friendship softened the bitterness

of their exile. Tyndale having finished the New Testament, and begun

the translation of the Old, the learned Fryth was of great use to him.

The more they studied the word of God, the more they admired it. In

the beginning of 1529, they published the books of Genesis and

Deuteronomy, and addressing their fellow-countrymen, they said: "As

thou readest, think that every syllable pertaineth to thine own self,

and suck out the pith of the Scripture."[902] Then denying that

visible signs naturally impart grace, as the schoolmen had pretended,

Tyndale maintained that the sacraments are effectual only when the

Holy Ghost sheds his influence upon them. "The ceremonies of the Law,"

he wrote, "stood the Israelites in the same stead as the sacraments do

us. We are saved not by the power of the sacrifice or the deed itself,

but by virtue of _faith in the promise_, whereof the sacrifice or

ceremony was a token or sign. The Holy Ghost is no dumb God, no God

that goeth a mumming. Wherever the word is proclaimed, this inward

witness worketh. If baptism preach me the washing in Christ's blood,

so doth the Holy Ghost accompany it; and that deed of preaching

through faith doth put away my sins. The ark of Noah saved them in the

water through faith."[903]

[902] Prologue to the Book of Genesis (Doctr. Tr.) p. 400.

[903] Prologue to the Book of Leviticus (Doctr. Tr.) p. 423, 424,

426.

[Sidenote: TYNDALE SOUGHT AT FRANKFORT.]

The man who dared address England in language so contrary to the

teaching of the middle ages must be imprisoned. John West, who had

been sent with this object, arrived at Antwerp; Hackett procured for

him as interpreter a friar of English descent, made him assume a

secular dress, and gave him "three pounds" on the cardinal's account;

the less attention the embassy attracted, the more likely it would be

to succeed. But great was West's vexation, on reaching Cologne, to

learn that Rincke was at Frankfort. But that mattered not; the

Greenwich monk could search for Tyndale at Cologne, and desire Rincke

to do the same at Frankfort; thus there would be two searches instead

of one. West procured a "swift" messenger, (he too was a monk,) and

gave him the letter Wolsey had addressed to Rincke.

It was fair-time at Frankfort, and the city was filled with merchants

and their wares. As soon as Rincke had finished reading Wolsey's

letter, he hastened to the burgomasters, and required them to

confiscate the English translations of the Scriptures, and, above all,

to seize "the heretic who was troubling England as Luther troubled

Germany." "Tyndale and his friends have not appeared in our fairs

since the month of March 1528," replied the magistrates, "and we know

not whether they are dead or alive."

Rincke was not discouraged. John Schoot of Strasburg, who was said to

have printed Tyndale's books, and who cared less about the works he

published than the money he drew from them, happened to be at

Frankfort. "Where is Tyndale?" Rincke asked him. "I do not know,"

replied the printer; but he confessed that he had printed a thousand

volumes at the request of Tyndale and Roy. "Bring them to me,"

continued the senator of Cologne--"If a fair price is paid me, I will

give them up to you." Rincke paid all that was demanded.

Wolsey would now be gratified, for the New Testament annoyed him

almost as much as the divorce; this book, so dangerous in his eyes,

seemed on the point of raising a conflagration which would infallibly

consume the edifice of Roman traditionalism. Rincke, who participated

in his patron's fears, impatiently opened the volumes made over to

him; but there was a sad mistake, they were not the New Testament, not

even a work of Tyndale's, but one written by William Roy, a changeable

and violent man, whom the reformer had employed for some time at

Hamburg, and who had followed him to Cologne, but with whom he had

soon become disgusted. "I bade him farewell for our two lives," said

Tyndale, "and a day longer." Roy, on quitting the reformer, had gone

to Strasburg, where he boasted of his relations with him, and had got

a satire in that city printed against Wolsey and the monastic orders,

entitled _The Burial of the Mass_: this was the book delivered to

Rincke. The monk's sarcastic spirit had exceeded the legitimate bounds

of controversy, and the senator accordingly dared not send the volumes

to England. He did not however discontinue his inquiries, but searched

every place where he thought he could discover the New Testament, and

having seized all the suspected volumes, set off for Cologne.[904]

[904] Anderson, Annals of the Bible, i. p. 203: "I gathered together

and packed up all the books from every quarter."

[Sidenote: TYNDALE AT MARBURG.]

Yet he was not satisfied. He wanted Tyndale, and went about asking

every one if they knew where to find him. But the reformer, whom he

was seeking in so many places, and especially at Frankfort and

Cologne, chanced to be residing at about equal distances from these

two towns, so that Rincke, while travelling from one to the other,

might have met him face to face, as Ahab's messenger met Elijah.[905]

Tyndale was at Marburg, whither he had been drawn by several motives.

Prince Philip of Hesse was the great protector of the evangelical

doctrines. The university had attracted attention in the Reform by the

paradoxes of Lambert of Avignon. Here a young Scotchman named

Hamilton, afterwards illustrious as a martyr, had studied shortly

before, and here too the celebrated printer, John Luft, had his

presses. In this city Tyndale and Fryth had taken up their abode, in

September 1528, and, hidden on the quiet banks of the Lahn, were

translating the Old Testament. If Rincke had searched this place he

could not have failed to discover them. But either he thought not of

it, or was afraid of the terrible landgrave. The direct road by the

Rhine was that which he followed, and Tyndale escaped.

[905] I Kings xviii, 7.

When he arrived at Cologne, Rincke had an immediate interview with

West. Their investigations having failed, they must have recourse to

more vigorous measures. The senator, therefore, sent the monk back to

England, accompanied by his son Hermann, charging them to tell Wolsey:

"To seize Tyndale we require fuller powers, ratified by the emperor.

The traitors who conspire against the life of the king of England are

not tolerated in the empire, much less Tyndale and all those who

conspire against Christendom. He must be put to death; nothing but

some striking example can check the Lutheran heresy.--And as to

ourselves," they were told to add, "by the favour of God there may

possibly be an opportunity for his royal highness and your grace to

recompense us."[906] Rincke had not forgotten the subsidy of ten

thousand pounds which he had received from Henry VII for the Turkish

war, when he had gone to London as Maximilian's envoy.

[906] Cotton MSS. Vitellius, B, xxi. fol. 43. Bible Annals, i, p. 204.

[Sidenote: WEST'S ANNOYANCES.]

West returned to England sorely vexed that he had failed in his

mission. What would they say at court and in his monastery? A fresh

humiliation was in reserve for him. Roy, whom West had gone to look

for on the banks of the Rhine, had paid a visit to his mother on the

banks of the Thames; and to crown all, the new doctrines had

penetrated into his own convent. The warden, father Robinson, had

embraced them, and night and day the Greenwich monks read that New

Testament which West had gone to Cologne to burn. The Antwerp friar,

who had accompanied him on his journey, was the only person to whom he

could confide his sorrows; but the Franciscans sent him back again to

the continent, and then amused themselves at poor West's expense. If

he desired to tell of his adventures on the banks of the Rhine, he was

laughed at; if he boasted of the names of Wolsey and Henry VIII, they

jeered him still more. He desired to speak to Roy's mother, hoping to

gain some useful information from her; this the monks prevented. "It

is in my commission," he said. They ridiculed him more and more.

Robinson, perceiving that the commission made West assume unbecoming

airs of independence, requested Wolsey to withdraw it; and West,

fancying he was about to be thrown into prison, exclaimed in alarm: "I

am weary of my life!" and conjured a friend whom he had at court to

procure him before Christmas an _obedience_ under his lordship's hand

and seal, enabling him to leave the monastery; "What you pay him for

it," he added, "I shall see you be reimbursed." Thus did West expiate

the fanatical zeal which had urged him to pursue the translator of the

oracles of God. What became of him, we know not: he is never heard of

more.

At that time Wolsey had other matters to engage him than this

"obedience." While West's complaints were going to London, those of

the king were travelling to Rome. The great business in the cardinal's

eyes was to maintain harmony between Henry and the church. There was

no more thought about investigations in Germany, and for a time

Tyndale was saved.

CHAPTER V.

Necessity of the Reformation--Wolsey's Earnestness with Da

Casale--An Audience with Clement VII--Cruel Position of the

Pope--A Judas' Kiss--A new Brief--Bryan and Vannes sent to

Rome--Henry and Du Bellay--Wolsey's Reasons against the

Brief--Excitement in London--Metamorphosis--Wolsey's

Decline--His Anguish.

[Sidenote: NECESSITY OF THE REFORMATION.]

The king and a part of his people still adhered to the popedom, and so

long as these bonds were not broken the word of God could not have

free course. But to induce England to renounce Rome, there must indeed

be powerful motives: and these were not wanting.

Wolsey had never given such pressing orders to any of Henry's

ambassadors: "The king," he wrote to Da Casale on the 1st of November

1528, "commits this business to your prudence, dexterity, and

fidelity; and I conjure you to employ all the powers of your genius,

and even to surpass them. Be very sure that you have done nothing and

can do nothing that will be more agreeable to the king, more desirable

by me, and more useful and glorious for you and your family."[907]

[907] Vobis vestræque familiæ utilius aut honorificentius. State

Papers, vii, p. 114.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT BETWEEN CHARLES AND HENRY.]

Da Casale possessed a tenacity which justified the cardinal's

confidence, and an active excitable mind: trembling at the thought of

seeing Rome lose England, he immediately requested an audience of

Clement VII. "What!" said he to the pope, "just as it was proposed to

go on with the divorce, your nuncio endeavours to dissuade the

king!... There is no hope that Catherine of Aragon will ever give an

heir to the crown. Holy father, there must be an end of this. Order

Campeggio to place the _decretal_ in his majesty's hands."--"What say

you?" exclaimed the pope. "I would gladly lose one of my fingers to

recover it again, and you ask me to make it public ... it would be my

ruin."[908] Da Casale insisted: "we have a duty to perform," he said;

"we remind you at this last hour of the perils threatening the

relations which unite Rome and England. The crisis is at hand. We

knock at your door, we cry, we urge, we entreat, we lay before you the

present and future dangers which threaten the papacy.[909]... The

world shall know that the king at least has fulfilled the duty of a

devoted son of the church. If your holiness desires to keep England in

St. Peter's fold, I repeat ... now is the time ... now is the

time."[910] At these words, Da Casale, unable to restrain his emotion,

fell down at the pope's feet, and begged him to save the church in

Great Britain. The pope was moved. "Rise," said he, with marks of

unwonted grief,[911] "I grant you all that is in my power; I am

willing to confirm the judgment which the legates may think it their

duty to pass; but I acquit myself of all responsibility as to the

untold evils which this matter may bring with it.... If the king,

after having defended the faith and the church, desires to ruin both,

on him alone will rest the responsibility of so great a disaster."

Clement granted nothing. Da Casale withdrew disheartened, and feeling

convinced that the pontiff was about to treat with Charles V.

[908] Burnet, Records, ii. p. 20. Unius digiti jactura....quod factum

fuit revocarem.

[909] Admonere, exclamare, rogare, instare, urgere, pulsare, pericula

præsentia et futura demonstrare. State Papers, vii, p. 112.

[910] Tempus jam in promptu adest. State Papers, vii. p. 112.

[911] Burnet's Ref. i. p. 44. Records, p. xx.

Wolsey desired to save the popedom; but the popedom resisted. Clement

VII was about to lose that island which Gregory the Great had won with

such difficulty. The pope was in the most cruel position. The English

envoy had hardly left the palace before the emperor's ambassador

entered breathing threats. The unhappy pontiff escaped the assaults of

Henry only to be exposed to those of Charles; he was thrown backwards

and forwards like a ball. "I shall assemble a general council," said

the emperor through his ambassador, "and if you are found to have

infringed the canons of the church in any point, you shall be

proceeded against with every rigour. Do not forget," added his agent

in a low tone, "that your birth is _illegitimate_, and consequently

excludes you from the pontificate." The timid Clement, imagining that

he saw the tiara falling from his head, swore to refuse Henry every

thing. "Alas!" he said to one of his dearest confidants, "I repent in

dust and ashes that I ever granted this decretal bull. If the king of

England so earnestly desires it to be given him, certainly it cannot

be merely to know its contents. He is but too familiar with them. It

is only to tie my hands in this matter of the divorce; I would rather

die a thousand deaths." Clement, to calm his agitation, sent one of

his ablest gentlemen of the bed-chamber, Francis Campana, apparently

to feed the king with fresh promises, but in reality to cut the only

thread on which Henry's hopes still hung. "We embrace your majesty,"

wrote the pope in the letter given to Campana, "with the paternal

love your numerous merits deserve."[912] Now Campana was sent to

England to burn clandestinely the famous decretal;[913] Clement

concealed his blows by an embrace. Rome had granted many divorces not

so well founded as that of Henry VIII; but a very different matter

from a divorce was in question here; the pope, desirous of upraising

in Italy his shattered power, was about to sacrifice the Tudor, and to

prepare the triumph of the Reformation. Rome was separating herself

from England.

[912] Nos illum paterna charitate complecti, ut sua erga nos atque

hanc sedem plurima merita requirunt. State Papers, vii. 116.

[913] To charge Campegius to burn the decretal. Herbert, p. 250.

Burnet's Ref. i, 47.

[Sidenote: SECRET BRIEF OF JULIUS II.]

All Clement's fear was, that Campana would arrive too late to burn the

bull; he was soon reassured; a dead calm prevented the _great matter_

from advancing. Campeggio, who took care to be in no hurry about his

mission, gave himself up, like a skilful diplomatist, to his worldly

tastes; and when he could not, due respect being had to the state of

his legs, indulge in the chase, of which he was very fond, he passed

his time in gambling, to which he was much addicted. Respectable

historians assert that he indulged in still more illicit

pleasures.[914] But this could not last for ever, and the nuncio

sought some new means of delay, which offered itself in the most

unexpected manner. One day an officer of the queen's presented to the

Roman legate a _brief_ of Julius II, bearing the same date as the

_bull_ of dispensation, signed too, like that, by the secretary

Sigismond, and in which the pope expressed himself in such a manner,

that Henry's objections fell of themselves. "The emperor," said

Catherine's messenger, "has discovered this brief among the papers of

Puebla, the Spanish ambassador in England, at the time of the

marriage."--"It is impossible to go on," said Campeggio to Wolsey;

"all your reasoning is now cut from under you. _We must wait for fresh

instructions._" This was the cardinal's conclusion at every new

incident, and the journey from London to the Vatican being very long

(without reckoning the Roman dilatoriness), the expedient was

infallible.

[914] Hunting and gaming all the day long, and following harlots all

the night. Ibid. p. 52.

Thus there existed two acts of the same pope, signed on the same

day--the one secret, the other public, in contradiction to each other.

Henry determined to send a new mission to Rome. Anne proposed for this

embassy one of the most accomplished gentlemen of the court, her

cousin, Sir Francis Bryan. With him was joined an Italian, Peter

Vannes, Henry's Latin secretary. "You will search all the registers of

the time of Julius II," said Wolsey to them; "you will study the

hand-writing of secretary Sigismond, and you will attentively examine

the ring of the fisherman used by that pontiff.[915]--Moreover you

will inform the pope that it is proposed to set a certain greyfriar,

named De Angelis, in his place, to whom Charles would give the

_spiritual_ authority, reserving the _temporal_ for himself. You will

manage so that Clement takes alarm at the project, and you will then

offer him a guard of 2000 men to protect him. You will ask whether, in

case the queen should desire to embrace a religious life, on condition

of the king's doing the same, and Henry should yield to this

wish,[916] he could have the assurance that the pope would afterwards

release him from his vows. And, finally, you will inquire whether, in

case the queen should refuse to enter a convent, the pope would permit

the king to have _two wives_, as we see in the Old Testament."[917]

The idea which has brought so much reproach on the landgrave of Hesse

was not a new one; the honour of it belongs to a cardinal and legate

of Rome, whatever Bossuet may say. "Lastly," continued Wolsey, "as the

pope is of a timid disposition, you will not fail to season your

remonstrances with threats. You, Peter, will take him aside and tell

him that, as an Italian, having more at heart than any one the glory

of the holy see, it is your duty to warn him, that if he persists, the

king, his realm, and many other princes, will for ever separate from

the papacy."

[915] State Papers, vii. p. 126, note.

[916] Only thereby to conduce the queen thereunto. Ibid. p. 136, note.

[917] De duabus uxoribus. Henry's Instructions to Knight, in the

middle of December 1528. Ibid. p. 137. Some great reasons and

precedents of the Old Testament appear. Instructions to same, 1st Dec.

Ibid. p. 136, note.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S CONFERENCE WITH DU BELLAY.]

It was not on the mind of the pope alone that it was necessary to act;

the rumour that the emperor and the king of France were treating

together disturbed Henry. Wolsey had vainly tried to sound Du Bellay;

these two priests tried craft against craft. Besides, the Frenchman

was not always seasonably informed by his court, letters taking _ten

days_ to come from Paris to London.[918] Henry resolved to have a

conference with the ambassador. He began by speaking to him of _his

matter_, says Du Bellay, "and I promise you," he added, "that he needs

no advocate, he understands the whole business so well." Henry next

touched upon the _wrongs_ of Francis I, "recalling so many things that

the envoy knew not what to say."--"I pray you, Master Ambassador,"

said Henry in conclusion, "to beg the king, my brother, to give up a

little of his amusements during a year only for the prompt despatch of

his affairs. Warn those whom it concerns." Having given this spur to

the king of France, Henry turned his thoughts towards Rome.

[918] La dite lettre du roi, combien qu'elle fût du 3, je l'ai reçue

sinon le 13; le pareil m'advint quasi de toutes autres. Du Bellay to

Montmorency, 20th Dec. Le Grand, Preuves.

[Sidenote: NON-AUTHENTICITY OF THE BRIEF.]

In truth, the fatal brief from Spain tormented him day and night, and

the cardinal tortured his mind to find proofs of its non-authenticity;

if he could do so, he would acquit the papacy of the charge of

duplicity, and accuse the emperor of forgery. At last he thought he

had succeeded. "In the first place," he said to the king, "the brief

has the same date as the bull. Now, if the errors in the latter had

been found out on the day it was drawn up, it would have been more

natural to make another than to append a brief pointing out the

errors. What! the same pope, the same day, at the petition of the same

persons, give out two rescripts for one effect,[919] one of which

contradicts the other! Either the bull was good, and then, why the

brief? or the bull was bad, and then, why deceive princes by a

worthless bull? Many names are found in the brief incorrectly spelt,

and these are faults which the pontifical secretary, whose accuracy is

so well known, could not have committed.[920] Lastly, no one in

England ever heard mention of this brief; and yet it is here that it

ought to be found." Henry charged Knight, his principal secretary, to

join the other envoys with all speed, in order to prove to the pope

the supposititious character of the document.

[919] State Papers, vol. vii. p. 130.

[920] Queen _Isabella_ was called _Elizabeth_ in the brief; but I have

seen a document from the court of Madrid in which Queen Elizabeth of

England was called Isabella; it is not therefore an error without a

parallel.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S TROUBLE.]

This important paper revived the irritation felt in England against

Charles V, and it was resolved to come to extremities. Every one

discontented with Austria took refuge in London, particularly the

Hungarians. The ambassador from Hungary proposed to Wolsey to adjudge

the imperial crown of Germany to the elector of Saxony or the

landgrave of Hesse, the two chiefs of protestantism.[921] Wolsey

exclaimed in alarm: "It will be an inconvenience to Christendom, _they

are so Lutheran_." But the Hungarian ambassador so satisfied him that

in the end he did not find the matter quite so inconvenient. These

schemes were prospering in London, when suddenly a new metamorphosis

took place under the eyes of Du Bellay. The king, the cardinal, and

the ministers appeared in strange consternation. Vincent da Casale had

just arrived from Rome with a letter from his cousin the prothonatory,

informing Henry that the pope, seeing the triumph of Charles V, the

indecision of Francis I, the isolation of the king of England, and

the distress of his cardinal, had flung himself into the arms of the

emperor. At Rome they went so far as to jest about Wolsey, and to say

that since he could not be St. Peter they would make him St. Paul.

[921] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 12 Jan. 1529. Le Grand, Preuves, p.

279.

While they were ridiculing Wolsey at Rome, at St. Germain's, they were

joking about Henry. "I will make him get rid of the notions he has in

his head," said Francis; and the Flemings, who were again sent out of

the country, said as they left London, "that this year they would

carry on the war so vigorously, that it would be really a sight worth

seeing."

Besides these public griefs, Wolsey had his private ones. Anne Boleyn,

who had already begun to use her influence on behalf of the despotic

cardinal's victims, gave herself no rest until Cheyney, a courtier

disgraced by Wolsey, had been restored to the king's favour. Anne even

gave utterance to several biting sarcasms against the cardinal, and

the duke of Norfolk and his party began "to speak big," says Du

Bellay. At the moment when the pope, scared by Charles V, was

separating from England, Wolsey himself was tottering. Who shall

uphold the papacy?... After Wolsey, nobody! Rome was on the point of

losing the power which for nine centuries she had exercised in the

bosom of this illustrious nation. The cardinal's anguish cannot be

described; unceasingly pursued by gloomy images, he saw Anne on the

throne causing the triumph of the Reformation: this nightmare was

stifling him. "His grace, the legate, is in great trouble," wrote the

bishop of Bayonne. "However ... he is more cunning than they

are."[922]

To still the tempest Wolsey had only one resource left: this was to

render Clement favourable to his master's designs. The crafty Campana,

who had burnt the decretal, conjured him not to believe all the

reports transmitted to him concerning Rome. "To satisfy the king,"

said he to the cardinal, "the holy father will, if necessary, descend

from the pontifical throne."[923] Wolsey therefore resolved to send to

Rome a more energetic agent than Vannes, Bryan, or Knight, and cast

his eyes on Gardiner. His courage began to revive, when an unexpected

event fanned once more his loftiest hopes.

[922] Le Grand, Preuves, p. 295, 296.

[923] Burnet, Hist. Ref. vol. i. p. 60.

CHAPTER VI.

The Pope's Illness--Wolsey's Desire--Conference about the

Members of the Conclave--Wolsey's Instructions--The Pope

recovers--Speech of the English Envoys to the Pope--Clement

willing to abandon England--The English demand the Pope's

Denial of the Brief--Wolsey's Alarm--Intrigues--Bryan's

clearsightedness--Henry's Threats--Wolsey's new Efforts--He

calls for an Appeal to Rome, and retracts--Wolsey and Du

Bellay at Richmond--The Ship of the State.

[Sidenote: THE POPE'S ILLNESS.]

On the 6th of January 1529, the feast of Epiphany, just as the pope

was performing mass, he was attacked by a sudden illness; he was taken

to his room, apparently in a dying state. When this news reached

London, the cardinal resolved to hasten to abandon England, where the

soil trembled under his feet, and to climb boldly to the throne of the

pontiffs. Bryan and Vannes, then at Florence, hurried on to Rome

through roads infested with robbers. At Orvieto they were informed the

pope was better; at Viterbo, no one knew whether he was alive or dead;

at Ronciglione, they were assured that he had expired; and, finally,

when they reached the metropolis of the popedom, they learnt that

Clement could not survive, and that the imperialists, supported by the

Colonnas, were striving to have a pope devoted to Charles V.[924]

[924] State Papers, vii. p. 143-150.

[Sidenote: PARTIES AMONG THE CARDINALS.]

But great as might be the agitation at Rome, it was greater still at

Whitehall. If God caused De' Medici to descend from the pontifical

throne, it could only be, thought Wolsey, to make him mount it. "It is

expedient to have such a pope as may save the realm," said he to

Gardiner. "And although it cannot but be incommodious to me in this

mine old age to be the common father, yet, when all things be well

pondered, the qualities of all the cardinals well considered, I am the

only one, without boasting, that can and will remedy the king's secret

matter. And were it not for the redintegration of the state of the

church, and especially to relieve the king and his realm from their

calamities, all the riches and honour of the world should not cause me

to accept the said dignity. Nevertheless I conform myself to the

necessities of the times. Wherefore, Master Stephen, that this matter

may succeed, I pray you to apply all your ingenuity, spare neither

money nor labour. I give you the amplest powers, without restriction

or limitation."[925] Gardiner departed to win for his master the

coveted tiara.

[925] Foxe, Acts, iv. p. 601.

Henry VIII and Wolsey, who could hardly restrain their impatience,

soon heard of the pontiff's death from different quarters.[926] "The

emperor has taken away Clement's life,"[927] said Wolsey, blinded by

hatred. "Charles," rejoined the king, "will endeavour to obtain by

force or fraud, a pope according to his desires." "Yes, to make him

his chaplain," replied Wolsey, "and to put an end by degrees both to

pope and popedom."[928] "We must fly to the defence of the church,"

resumed Henry, "and with that view, my lord, make up your mind to be

pope."--"That alone," answered the cardinal, "can bring your Majesty's

weighty matter to a happy termination, and by saving you, save the

church ... and myself also," he thought in his heart.--"Let us see,

let us count the voters."

[926] By sundry ways hath been advertised of the death of our holy

father. Ibid. The king's instructions.

[927] By some detestable act committed for the late pope's

destruction. Ibid. p. 603.

[928] By little and little utterly to exclude and extinguish him and

his authority. Ibid.