Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
HISTORY OF ENGLAND
FROM
THE FALL OF WOLSEY
TO
THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH.
BY
JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE, M. A.
LATE FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEGE, OXFORD.
VOLUME III.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER AND COMPANY
1872.
[Illustration:
Charles Scribner & Co of No 654
Broadway New York have authority
from me to publish all works which I
have already written or may hereafter
write. J A Froude
London, Jan 29. 1871]
CONTENTS OF VOLUME III.
CHAPTER XII.
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC ASPECTS OF THE REFORMATION IN ENGLAND.
PAGE
Spain and England 14
Animosity of the Emperor 15
Mission of Cardinal Granvelle 16
The Milan Temptation 17
Francis will join the Papal League 18
The Triple Cord 19
Effect of the Death of Catherine 20
Overtures to England 21
Reply to the Spanish Ambassador 22
The French invade Italy 24
The Emperor's Protest 25
Speech in the Consistory 26
Invasion of Provence 27
Attitude of England 28
Expectations formed at Rome 29
Paul's Message to Henry 30
Letter of Sir Gregory Cassalis 31
History of Reginald Pole 32
The King's Favour towards him 33
Residence Abroad 35
The Book of the Church 37
Opposes Conciliation 39
England seen from within 60
Convocation of 1536 61
Latimer's Sermon 62
Spirit of the Clergy 66
Complaints against the Growth of Heresy 68
Protestant Heresies 70
Peculiar Disposition of the King 71
First Articles of Religion 73
Judgment on General Councils 78
Injunctions of the Vicar-General 79
The English Bible 80
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PILGRIMAGE OF GRACE.
Causes of Popular Disaffection 88
Discontent in the House of Lords 89
The Statute of Uses 91
Enclosures of Commons 93
Encroachment upon Local Jurisdiction 95
The Three Commissions 97
Fantastic Rumours 99
Rising in Lincolnshire 100
The First of October at Louth 101
The Rebellion in Motion 103
The Articles of the Rebellion 105
The Rebels occupy Lincoln 107
Lord Hussey 109
The Duke of Suffolk 111
The King's Answer to the Petition 113
Scene in the Chapter-house at Lincoln 115
The Gentlemen separate from the Commons 117
The Great Insurrection 118
Account of Robert Aske 119
The Rising of the North 121
Scene at Beverley 123
Lord Darcy 125
The Rendezvous at Weighton 127
Aske enters York 129
Lord Darcy in Pomfret 131
Surrender of Pomfret 133
The Siege of Hull 135
Skipton Castle 137
Advance of the Duke of Norfolk 139
Henry's Instructions to Norfolk 141
Lancaster Herald at Pomfret 143
Lord Northumberland 145
Doncaster 147
The Doncaster Articles 151
The Conference on Doncaster Bridge 153
The Advice of the Council 155
Despatch of Heralds 157
State of the North 159
Proposal to betray Aske 161
Rebel Council at York 163
The Council of Pomfret 165
The King's Second Commission 167
Resolutions of the King 169
The Council of York 171
Aske goes to London 173
Fresh Danger 175
CHAPTER XIV.
THE COMMISSION OF CARDINAL POLE.
James the Fifth 176
Reginald Pole made a Cardinal 177
The Mission into Flanders 178
The Credentials 180
State of the North of England 181
Sir Francis Bigod 182
Second Insurrection 184
Failures at Scarborough and Hull 185
Arrival of the Duke of Norfolk 187
The Rebels attack Carlisle 189
Martial Law 191
Pole arrives in France 193
He is dismissed into the Netherlands 194
He retires to Liège 195
Arrests in England 196
Aske, Darcy, and Constable 197
Trials of the Prisoners 199
Executions 206
Aske and Constable 207
Death of Aske 209
The Children of Benjamin 211
Pole at Liège 212
Michael Throgmorton 213
Letter of Cromwell to Michael Throgmorton 214
Illustrative Sketches of the Time 219
The Sacraments 228
The Bishop's Book 229
Address of the King 230
State of the Navy 231
Piracy in the Channel 232
Battle in Falmouth Harbour 233
Outrages of Foreign Cruisers 234
Equipment of a Fleet 235
Action in the Downs 236
English Successes 237
Survey of the Coasts 238
The Revenue 239
Ill-health of the King 240
Birth of the Prince of Wales 241
Death of the Queen 243
Anxiety for the Prince 245
Creation of Peers 247
Proposal of a New Marriage 248
CHAPTER XV.
THE EXETER CONSPIRACY.
The European Powers 249
England and the Empire 250
Mission of Sir Thomas Wyatt 251
The Princess Mary 252
The Duchess of Milan 254
Interchange of Alliance 255
Doubts and Warnings 257
The Pacification of Nice 259
Doctor Bonner 261
The Religious Houses 263
Voluntary Surrenders 264
Images and Relics 265
Friar Forest 270
Novel Law of Heresy 272
Dderfel Gadern 273
The Shrines 275
St. Thomas of Canterbury 277
The King's Marriage 280
The Pope issues the Censures 282
Pole's Second Mission 283
England and Flanders 284
Pole's Apology 285
Irish Overtures to the Papacy 287
Contemplated Invasion of Ireland 289
The English Lords 291
Renewed Agitations 292
The Marquis of Exeter 293
The Banner of St. Kevern 295
The Cornish Conspiracy 297
Arrest of Holland 299
The Poles 301
Lady Salisbury 302
Circular to the Justices of the Peace 303
Westminster Hall 305
Lord Montague 306
Sir Edward Neville 307
Executions for Treason 308
Testimony of Events 309
England and the Lutherans 310
The Landgrave of Hesse 311
Prosecution of Lambert 312
Lambert dies at the Stake 315
Cromwell's Opinion of the Sentence 316
Reginald Pole in Spain 317
Rumour of the intended Invasion 318
The Flemish Fleet 319
Reports from Spain 320
The King at Dover 321
The Uncertainty 322
The Fleet in Flanders disperses 323
Despair of Pole 324
He is alarmed for the Emperor 325
The Muster in London 326
CHAPTER XVI.
THE SIX ARTICLES.
Religious Tolerance 331
Spirit of Persecution 332
State of Parties 333
The Privy Council 335
The Prospects of Cromwell 336
Appeal of the King to his Subjects 337
General Pardon 339
Difficulties of Protestantism 341
Marriage of the Clergy 342
An Execution at Ipswich 343
General Election 344
Meeting of Parliament 349
Religious Differences 350
Proposals for Union 351
Attainder of the Poles 352
The Six Articles 353
Act of Proclamations 355
Royal Address 357
Dissolution of the Monasteries 359
Extension of the Episcopate 360
Approbation of England 365
Protest of Melancthon 366
Moderation of the King 368
Development of the Statute 369
Second Pardon 370
The Vicar of Stepney 371
Henry and Prince Edward 372
The English Criminal Law 373
The Welsh Marches 381
Address to the Justices of the Peace 385
Issue of Special Commissions 388
The Three Abbots 390
The Abbot of Glastonbury. 391
CHAPTER XVII.
ANNE OF CLEVES, AND THE FALL OF CROMWELL.
Anne of Cleves 399
Cromwell and the Peers 404
Position of Cromwell 405
Cromwell and Gardiner 408
Cromwell and the Bishops 409
The Protestants 410
Prosecution of Dr. Watts 411
The Emperor comes to Paris 412
Reginald Pole 413
The Emperor at Paris 414
An English Traitor 415
Interview with Sir Thomas Wyatt 417
Anne of Cleves lands in England 420
The King's Sensations 422
Arrival of Anne at Greenwich 423
Reluctance of Henry. 425
Completion of the Marriage 426
Protestant Controversy 427
Attitude of the Emperor 431
Failure of Cromwell's Foreign Policy 434
Approach of the Crisis 436
Meeting of Parliament 437
Cromwell's Opening Speech 438
The Calm before the Storm 439
Progress of ordinary Legislation 440
A Subsidy Bill 441
Attainders of Romanists 442
The King's Marriage 443
Hints of a Divorce 445
The Fall of Cromwell 446
Intercession of Cranmer 454
The Attainder 456
The Six Articles 458
The King's Statement 461
Judgment of Convocation 463
Communication with the Duke 467
Opinion of Foreign Powers 469
Committee of Religion 471
The Calais Conspirators 472
Attainder of three Protestants 473
Parliament is Dissolved 474
The Fall of Cromwell 476
His Prayer on the Scaffold 477
Character of Cromwell 478
CHAPTER XII.
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC ASPECTS OF THE REFORMATION IN ENGLAND.
In the sensitive condition of Europe the effect of events was felt
beyond their natural consequence. The death of Catherine of Arragon led
to the renewal of the war between France and the Empire. Paul III., in
real or pretended reluctance to proceed to the last extremity, had for a
time suspended the Bull of Deposition which he had drawn against the
King of England.[1] It was idle to menace while he was unable to strike;
and the two great Catholic powers had declined, when his intention was
first made known to them, to furnish him with the necessary support.
Francis I., who trifled, as it suited his convenience, with the court of
London, the see of Rome, the Smalcaldic League, and the Divan at
Constantinople, had protested against a step which would have compelled
him to a definite course of action. The Emperor, so long as Solyman was
unchecked upon the Danube, and Moorish corsairs swept the Mediterranean
and ravaged the coasts of Italy, had shrunk from the cost and peril of a
new contest.
[Sidenote: Animosity of the Spaniards against the King of England]
[Sidenote: Fostered by English and Irish refugees,]
[Sidenote: And shared by the Emperor.]
A declaration of war, in revenge for the injuries of the divorced queen,
would indeed have been welcomed with enthusiasm by the gentlemen of
Spain. A London merchant, residing at Cadiz, furnished his government
with unwelcome evidence of the spirit which was abroad in the Peninsula:
"I have perceived," he wrote to Cromwell, "the views and manners of
these countries, and favour that these Spaniards do bear towards the
King's Grace and his subjects, which is very tedious in their hearts
both in word and deed, with their great Popish naughty slanderous words
in all parts. And truly the King's Grace hath little or no favour now.
We be all taken in derision and hated as Turks, and called heretics, and
Luterians, and other spiteful words; and they say here plainly they
trust shortly to have war with England, and to set in the Bishop of Rome
with all his disciples again in England."[2] The affront to a Castilian
princess had wounded the national honour; the bigotry of a people to
whom alone in Europe their creed remained a passion, was shocked by the
religious revolution with which that affront had been attended; and the
English and Irish refugees, who flocked to their harbours, found willing
listeners when they presented themselves as the missionaries of a
crusade.[3] Charles himself was withheld only by prudence from indulging
the inclination of his subjects. He shared to the full their haughty
sensitiveness; again and again in his private consultations with the
Pope he had spoken of the revenge which he would one day exact against
his uncle; and one of the best informed statesmen of the age, whose
memoirs have descended to us, declares that every person who understood
anything of the condition of Europe, believed assuredly that he would at
last execute his threat.[4]
[Sidenote: The Emperor returns from his successes in Africa,]
But as yet no favourable opportunity had offered itself. His arms were
occupied with other enemies; the Irish rebellion had collapsed; the
disaffection in England seemed unable to coalesce with sufficient
firmness to encourage an invasion in its support. It was not till the
close of the year 1535, when Charles returned to Naples covered with
glory from his first expedition into Africa, that means and leisure for
his larger object at length offered themselves. His power and his fame
were now at their zenith. He had destroyed the Moslem fleet; he had
wrested Tunis from the dreaded Barbarossa; he had earned the gratitude
of the Catholic world by the delivery of twenty thousand Christian
slaves. The last ornament might now be added to his wreath of glory, if
he would hush down the tumults of heresy as he had restored peace to the
waters of the Mediterranean.
[Sidenote: And meditates a crusade against heresy.]
With this intention Charles remained in Italy for the winter. The Pope
again meditated the publication of the Bull of Deposition;[5] a circular
was issued from the Vatican, copies of which were sent even to the
Lutheran princes, inviting a crusade against England,[6] and Cardinal
Granvelle was instructed to sound the disposition of Francis, and
persuade his coöperation. The Emperor would be moderate in his demands;
an active participation would not be required of him;[7] it would be
sufficient if he would forget his engagement with an excommunicated
sovereign to whom promises were no longer binding, and would remain
passive.
[Sidenote: Dubious disposition of Francis.]
[Sidenote: Persecution of Protestants in Paris.]
There was reason to believe that Granvelle's mission would be
successful. The year preceding, Charles had played off a hope of Milan
as a bribe to disunite the French from England; he was ready now to make
a definite promise. With the first slight inducement Francis had
wavered; while again, in point of religion, his conduct was more
satisfactory than had been expected. He adhered in appearance to the
English alliance, but he had deceived Henry's hopes that he would unite
in a rupture with Rome; he had resisted all entreaties to declare the
independence of the Gallican church; he had laboured to win back the
Germans out of schism, partly to consolidate the French influence in
Europe as opposed to the Imperial, but partly also, as he had taken
pains to prove, that no doubt might be entertained of the position of
France in the great question of the Reformation. He had allowed himself,
indeed, as a convenience, to open negotiations for a treaty with
Solyman; but the Turks, in the eyes of devout Catholics, were less
obnoxious than heretics;[8] and the scandal was obscured by an open
repentance for past shortcomings, and a declaration that for the future
he would eschew the crime of toleration, and show no mercy to any
Protestant who might fall within his grasp. An English stranger saw
Francis of France march through the streets of Paris with the princes of
the blood, the queen, the princesses, the bishops, cardinals, dukes,
lords, counts, the "blue blood" of the nobility. They had torches, and
banners, and relics of the saints, the whole machinery of the faith: and
in the presence of the august assemblage six heretics were burnt at a
single fire; the king gave thanks to God that he had learnt his
obligations as a Christian sovereign; and, imploring the Divine
forgiveness because in past years he had spared the lives of some few of
these wretches whom it was his duty to have destroyed, he swore that
thenceforward they should go all, as many as he could discover, to the
flames.[9]
[Sidenote: The Emperor offers Milan to the Duke of Orleans.]
[Sidenote: Francis consents to the formation of a league against
England.]
Thus, therefore, good hopes were entertained of Francis; but inasmuch it
was known with what a passion he had set his heart on Milan, Charles
resolved not to trust too entirely to his zeal for orthodoxy; and,
either through Granvelle or through his ambassadors, he signified his
consent to an arrangement which would have consigned Italy conclusively
to a Gallican supremacy. Sforza, the last reigning duke, whose claims
had hitherto been supported by the Imperialists, had died childless in
the previous October. The settlement which had been made in the treaty
of Cambray had thus been rendered nugatory; and Francis desired the
duchy for his second son, the Duke of Orleans, who, in right of his
wife, Catherine de' Medici, would inherit also the dukedoms of Florence
and Urbino. If the Emperor was acting in good faith, if he had no
intention of escaping from his agreement when the observance of it
should no longer be necessary, he was making no common sacrifice in
acquiescing in a disposition the consequence of which to the House of
Austria he so clearly foresaw.[10] He, however, seemed for the present
to have surrendered himself to the interests of the Church;[11] and, in
return for the concession, Francis, who had himself advised Henry VIII.
to marry Anne Boleyn,--Francis, who had declared that Henry's resistance
to the Papacy was in the common interest of all Christian
princes,--Francis, who had promised to make Henry's cause his own, and,
three years previously, had signed a treaty, offensive and defensive,
for the protection of France and England against Imperial and Papal
usurpations,--sank before the temptation. He professed his willingness
to join hand and heart with the Emperor in restoring unity to
Christendom and crushing the Reformation. Anticipating and exceeding the
requests which had been proposed to him, he volunteered his services to
urge in his own person on Henry the necessity of submitting to the
universal opinion of Christendom; and, to excuse or soften the
effrontery of the demand, he suggested, that, in addition to the
censures, a formal notice should be served upon all Christian princes
and potentates, summoning them to the assistance of the Papacy to compel
the King of England with the strong hand to obey the sentence of the See
of Rome.[12] A Catholic league was now on the point of completion. The
good understanding so much dreaded by English ministers, between France,
the Empire, and the Papacy, seemed to be achieved. A council, the
decision of which could not be doubtful, would be immediately convoked
by Paul, under the protectorate of the two powers; and the Reformation
would become a question no longer of argument, but of strength.
[Sidenote: January. The death of Queen Catherine is known in Italy.]
[Sidenote: New hopes are formed of a reconciliation.]
[Sidenote: March. The Emperor withdraws his offer of Milan.]
[Sidenote: Advances of the Pope and the Catholic powers to Henry]
Happily, the triple cord was not yet too secure to be broken by an
accident. The confederacy promised favourably till the new year. At the
end of January it became known in Italy that the original cause of the
English quarrel existed no longer--that Queen Catherine was no more. On
the first arrival of the news there was an outburst of indignation.
Stories of the circumstances of her death were spread abroad with
strange and frightful details. Even Charles himself hinted his
suspicions to the Pope that she had been unfairly dealt with, and fears
were openly expressed for the safety of the Princess Mary.[13] But, in a
short time, calmer counsels began to prevail. Authentic accounts of the
queen's last hours must have been received early in February from the
Spanish ambassador, who was with her to the end; and as her decease gave
no fresh cause for legitimate complaint, so it was possible that an
embarrassing difficulty was peacefully removed. On both sides there
might now, it was thought, be some relaxation without compromise of
principle; an attempt at a reconciliation might at least be made before
venturing on the extremity of war. Once more the Pope allowed the
censures to sleep.[14] The Emperor, no longer compelled by honour to
treat Henry as an enemy, no longer felt himself under the necessity of
making sacrifices to Francis. He allowed his offer of Milan to the Duke
of Orleans to melt into a proposal which would have left uninjured the
Imperial influence in Italy; and Francis, who had regarded the duchy at
last as his own, was furious at his disappointment, and prepared for
immediate war. So slight a cause produced effects so weighty. Henry, but
a few weeks before menaced with destruction, found himself at once an
object of courteous solicitation from each of the late confederates.
The Pope found a means of communicating to him the change in his
sentiments.[15] Francis, careless of all considerations beyond revenge,
laboured to piece together the fragments of a friendship which his own
treachery had dissolved: and Charles, through his resident at the court
of London, and even with his own hand in a letter to Cromwell,
condescended to request that his good brother would forget and forgive
what was past. The occasion of their disagreement being removed, he
desired to return to the old terms of amity. The Princess Mary might be
declared legitimate, having been at least born _in bonâ fide parentum_;
and as soon as this difficulty should have been overcome, he promised to
use his good offices with the Pope, that, at the impending council, his
good brother's present marriage should be declared valid, and the
succession arranged as he desired.[16] Finally, that he might lose no
time in reaping the benefit of his advances, he reminded Henry that the
old treaties remained in force by which they had bound themselves to
assist each other in the event of invasion; that he looked to his good
offices and his assistance in the now imminent irruption of the French
into Italy.
The English government lavished large sums as secret service money in
the European courts. Though occasionally misled in reports from other
quarters, they were always admirably informed by their agents at
Rome.[17] Henry knew precisely the history of the late coalition against
him, and the value which he might attach to these new professions. He
had no intention of retracing any step which he had taken. For his
separation from the rest of Christendom, Rome and the other powers were
alone responsible.
[Sidenote: The Spanish ambassador has an audience at Greenwich.]
Events would now work for him. He had only to stand still. To the Pope
he sent no answer; but he allowed Sir Gregory Cassalis to hold an
indirect commission as his representative at the Papal court. To Francis
he remained indifferent. The application on the part of the Emperor had
been the most elaborate, and to him his answer was the most explicit. He
received the Spanish ambassador in an audience at Greenwich, and, after
a formal declaration had been made of Charles's message, he replied with
the terms on which he would consent to forget the events of the
preceding years. The interruption of friendly relations between England
and Spain was the fault wholly and entirely, he said, of the Emperor.
When the crown of the Cæsars was last vacant, it had been at the
disposal of himself; and he it was who had permitted the choice to fall
on its present wearer. In Charles's difficulties he had lent him money:
to him Charles was indebted for his power, his influence, and his fame;
and, in return, he had met only with ingratitude. To remember injuries,
however, was not in his nature. "We can continue our displeasure to no
man," he said, "if he do once remove the cause thereof; so if he which
is a prince of honour, and a personage whom we once chose and thought
worthy for his virtue and qualities to be advanced, will, by his express
writings, either desire us to put his doings towards us in oblivion, or
by the same purge himself and declare that such things wherein we have
noted unkindness at his hands have been unjustly imputed to him, we
shall gladly embrace his offer touching the reconciliation." Being the
injured party, he could receive no advance and treat of no conditions
unless with this necessary preliminary. Let the Emperor deal with him
frankly, and he should receive a reasonable answer to all his reasonable
requests.
"For the Bishop of Rome, he had not," he continued, "proceeded on so
slight grounds as he would alter any one piece of his doings. In all his
causes he had laid his foundation upon the laws of God, nature, and
honesty, and established his works made upon the same with consent of
the states of the realm in open and high court of parliament." The
Bishop, however, had himself made known his desire for a return to a
better understanding with him, and he did not think it expedient that a
third party should interfere.[18]
[Sidenote: Anxiety of Henry to be on good terms with the Emperor.]
The haughty answer concealed a less indifferent feeling. Henry was
seriously conscious of the danger of the isolation of the country; and
though he chose in words to defend his self-respect, though he saw,
perhaps, in a high bearing the surest means to command the respect of
others, he was anxious from his heart to resume his old relations with
Spain and Flanders, so important for English commerce, and still more
important for the tacit sanction of his past conduct, which would be
implied in a renewed treaty with the nephew of Catherine. He directed
the English resident at the Imperial court to report the manner in which
his reply had been received: he desired him at the same time to lose no
opportunity of impressing, both on Charles and on his ministers, the
benefits which would accrue to all Christendom, as well as to
themselves, if they were again on good terms.[19]
[Sidenote: War between France and the Empire.]
So matters hung uncertain through the spring. The court of Rome
continued hopeful,[20] although at that very time the English
parliaments were debating the contents of the Black Book, and decreeing
the dissolution of the smaller monasteries. Rumour was still favourable
to a reconciliation, when, for the moment, all other considerations were
absorbed in the breaking out of the French war.
[Sidenote: D'Annebault overruns Piedmont.]
Francis had not waited for the declaration of a change of policy on the
part of Charles to collect an army. On the first hint of a difficulty he
saw what was intended. Milan, after all, was not to be surrendered. His
chief military successes had been gained by a suddenness of movement
which approached to treachery. Instantly that he knew Charles to be
hesitating, he took advantage of some trifling Border differences to
open a quarrel; and he declared war and struck his first blow at the
same moment. His troops entered Savoy, and the brilliant D'Annebault,
who commanded in chief, sweeping all before him, had overrun Piedmont
and had secured and fortified Turin, before a man had been raised to
oppose him.
[Sidenote: April 17. Charles denounces Francis in the consistory at
Rome.]
[Sidenote: And challenges him to single combat.]
This unwelcome news found the Emperor at Naples in the middle of March.
Report slightly, but only slightly, anticipating the reality, brought
information at the same time of a Franco-Turkish alliance, and of the
approach of a fresh Ottoman fleet; and in the first burst of anger and
mortification Charles swore that this time he would not lay down his
arms till either he or his rival had ceased to wear a crown.[21] Antonio
de Leyva was left to collect and equip an army; Charles himself went in
the first week in April to Rome, to make a public protest against the
French aggression. On the seventeenth of that month, Pope, prelates,
cardinals, and foreign ambassadors being all assembled in the
consistory, he rose, and with his bonnet in his hand poured out in
Spanish a long and passionate invective, denouncing the King of France
as the enemy of God and man--the wanton and wicked disturber of the
world. When peace was necessary before all things to compose schism, and
to repel the Turks, Francis was breaking that peace--was bringing in the
Turks--was confounding heaven and earth only for his own ambition. In
the interests of Europe, even now he would give Milan to the Duke of
Angoulesme; the union of the duchies was too formidable a danger to
allow him to bestow it on the Duke of Orleans. This was his last
concession: if it was refused, he challenged Francis to decide their
differences in single combat, laying Burgundy in gage against Lombardy,
the victor to have both in undisputed possession.
Explosions of passion were not unfrequent with Charles, and formed the
most genuine feature in his character. His audience, however, were
fluttered by his violence. His own prudence taught him the necessity of
some explanation. On the following day the consistory reassembled, when,
in calmer tones, he reaffirmed his accusations, and renewed his
proposals.
"I am not against peace," he said; "those who so accuse me slander me.
The Pope is the common friend of myself and the King of France. Without
his Holiness's permission I should not have spoken as I spoke yesterday.
I bear no personal malice. I received the sacrament before I entered
your assembly, and many as are my errors and infirmities, I am not so
bad a Christian as to communicate while in mortal sin. But a confederate
of the Empire is attacked--it is my duty to defend him. The Duke of
Savoy is my near relative; but were he a stranger, so long as he is one
of my lieges, I must expose my life for him, as he would expose his life
for me. I have challenged the King of France to mortal combat; but not
in malice, not in vain bravado or appetite for glory. Wise men do not
thrust themselves into desperate duels, least of all with an antagonist
so strong and skilful. I offered him the alternative of this combat only
if peace was impossible, that the terrible evils which menace
Christendom might be thus avoided. For here I say it, and while I say it
I do but claim my proper privilege as an honest sovereign, not only
would I expose my person to peril, but gladly would I sacrifice my life
for the welfare of the Christian world."[22]
The challenge might naturally have touched Francis, whose one sound
quality was personal courage; but on this occasion the competitors had
exchanged their characters. Francis had the start in the field: he had
twelve thousand picked troops in Turin; the remainder of the invading
force was distributed in impregnable positions over Piedmont and
Savoy.[23] For once he determined to win a reputation for prudence as
well as daring, and he left Charles to seek his remedy where he could
find it. The Pope entreated, but in vain; and the campaign followed
which was so disastrous to the Empire, which for a time reversed so
signally the relative position of the two princes, and defeated the
expectations of the keenest statesmen.
[Sidenote: June. Charles invades Provence.]
[Sidenote: He finds the country wasted.]
[Sidenote: He is unable to advance.]
[Sidenote: August. He loses 30,000 men and retreats.]
Finding himself too late, without delay and difficulty, to expel the
French out of their Italian conquests, Charles, in spite of the
remonstrance of his generals, and relying, as was thought, on a
repetition of the treason of the Duke of Bourbon, by one or more of the
Gallican nobility,[24] led his army into Provence. He trusted either
that he would find the country undefended, or that the French chivalry,
when attacked in their homes, would, with their usual recklessness, risk
a decisive battle; or, at least, that in a fertile district he would
find no difficulty in procuring provisions. In each of his calculations
he found himself fatally mistaken. The inhabitants of Provence had
themselves destroyed their crops, and driven away their cattle. In his
front, Montmorency lay intrenched at Avignon, and Francis between Lyons
and Valence, in fortified camps. Time and necessity had on this occasion
been enlisted as the allies of France; and with the garrison of
Marseilles in his rear intercepting his supplies, unable to advance, and
shut up in a country which had been left barren as an Arabian desert,
the Emperor sate still in the sultry summer heats, while his army melted
away from him with famine and disease. De Leyva, his ablest commander,
and thirty thousand veterans, miserably perished. He escaped only from
being driven into the sea by a retreat; and crept back into Italy with
the broken remnant of his forces, baffled and humiliated in the only
European war into which no fault of his own had plunged him.
[Sidenote: Indifferent attitude of England.]
Of the feelings with which these events were regarded by Henry, we have
little evidence. No positive results followed from the first interchange
of messages, but Charles so far endured the tone in which his advances
had been received, that fresh communications of moderate friendliness
were interchanged through Sir Gregory Cassalis at the beginning of the
summer.[25] In July Henry offered his services as a mediator with the
court of France both to the Emperor and to the Queen Regent of the
Netherlands.[26] At the same time English engineers were in the French
camp in Provence, perhaps as professional students of the art of war,
perhaps as volunteers indirectly countenanced by the government.[27] The
quarrel, in reality, admitted of no solution except by the sword; and if
the English felt no absolute satisfaction in seeing two powers crippling
each other's strength, who, a few months previously, were in league for
their own ruin, the government at least saw no reason to co-operate with
either side, in a cause which did not concern them, or assist in
bringing a dispute to a close which had broken out so opportunely for
themselves.
Meanwhile the probabilities of a reunion with Rome had for a moment
brightened. It was stated at the close of the last volume that, on the
discovery of the adulteries of the queen, a panic arose among the
Reformers, lest the king should regard her crime as a judgment upon the
divorce, and in the sudden revulsion retrace his steps. It was seen,
too, that after her punishment their fears were allayed by an act of
parliament against the Papal usurpations, the most emphatic which had
yet been passed, and that the country settled back into an equilibrium
of permanent hostility. There are circumstances remaining to be
explained, both with respect to the first alarm and to the statute by
which it was dispelled.
[Sidenote: May. Expectations formed at Rome on the disgrace of Queen
Anne.]
[Sidenote: May 27. The Pope entreats Sir Gregory Cassalis to intercede
with Henry for a reconciliation.]
The partial advances which had been made by the Pope had been neither
accepted nor rejected, when, on the 20th of May, a courier from England
brought the news of Anne's misdemeanours to Rome. The consistory would
have been more than mortal if they had not been delighted. From the
first they had ascribed the king's conduct to the infatuating beauty of
Catherine's rival. It was she who, tigress-like, had thirsted for the
blood of their martyrs, and at her shrine they had been sacrificed.[28]
Her character appeared at last in its true colours; the enchantment was
broken, and the abhorrence with which Henry's name had so lately been
regarded was changed throughout Italy to a general feeling of pity.[29]
The precious sheep who had been lost to the Church would now return to
the fold, and the Holy Father would welcome back his erring child with
paternal affection.[30] This seems to have been the general expectation;
unquestionably it was the expectation of the Pope himself. Paul sent
again for Sir Gregory Cassalis, and after expressing his delight that
God had delivered the king from his unhappy connexion, he told him that
he waited only for the most trifling intimation of a desire for reunion
to send a nuntio to England to compose all differences and to grant
everything which the king could reasonably demand.[31] Limiting, like a
man of business, the advantages which he had to offer to the present
world, the Pope suggested that Henry, in connexion with himself, might
now become the arbiter of Europe, and prescribe terms to the Empire as
well as to France. For himself and for his office he said he had no
ambition. The honour and the profit should alike be for England. An
accession of either to the pontificate might prove its ruin.[32] He
lauded the king's early character, his magnanimity, his generous
assistance in times past to the Holy See, his devotion to the Catholic
faith. Forgetting the Holy League, glossing over the Bull of Deposition
as an official form which there had been no thought of enforcing, he
ventured to say that for himself he had been Henry's friend from the
beginning. He had urged his predecessor to permit the divorce; at
Bologna he had laboured to persuade the Emperor to consent to it.[33] He
had sent a red hat to the Bishop of Rochester only that he might have
the benefit of his assistance at the approaching council; and when he
heard of his death, being surrounded by solicitations and clamours for
vengeance, he had but seemed for a time to consent to measures which
would never have been executed.
[Sidenote: The consistory are confident of success,]
[Sidenote: And possibly not without some reason.]
A warmer overture could scarcely have been conceived, and Cassalis
ventured to undertake that it was made in good faith.[34] It was true
that, as Cardinal of Ravenna, Paul III. had been an advocate for Henry;
and his abrupt change on his election to the see proves remarkably how
the genius of the Papacy could control the inclination of the
individual. Now, however, the Pope availed himself gladly of his earlier
conduct, and for a month at least nothing transpired at Rome to damp his
expectation. On the 5th of June Cardinal Campeggio wrote to the Duke of
Suffolk to feel his way towards the recovery of his lost bishopric of
Salisbury.[35] As late as St. John's day (June 24th) the Papal council
were rejoicing in the happy prospect which seemed to be reopened.
Strange it was, that so many times in this long struggle some accident
or some mistake occurred at a critical contingency to ruin hopes which
promised fairly, and which, if realized, would have changed the fortunes
of England. Neither the king nor the country would have surrendered
their conquered liberties; the Act of Appeals would have been
maintained, and, in substance if not in name, the Act of Supremacy. It
is possible, however, that, if at this juncture the Pope would have
relinquished the high pretensions which touched the allegiance of
subjects, Henry, for the sake of peace, would have acknowledged in the
Bishop of Rome a titular primacy.
Many times a good cause has been ruined by the over-zeal of its friends.
If there really existed such a danger, England may thank a young
nobleman for its escape, who was permitted to do his country a service
far different from his intentions. Once already we have seen Reginald
Pole in reluctant employment in Paris, receiving opinions on the
divorce. Henceforth for some years he will fill a prominent place in
this history, and he must be introduced with a brief account of his
life.
[Sidenote: History of Reginald Pole.]
Reginald, second son of Margaret Plantagenet, Countess of Salisbury, was
born in the year 1500. His mother, so long as the first of the Tudor
princes was on the throne, remained in obscurity. The titles and estates
of the Nevilles being afterwards restored to her and to her eldest son,
Reginald shared the benefits of the revival of his family, and was
selected by Henry VIII. for particular favour.
[Sidenote: He is educated by Henry for the Church.]
[Sidenote: Studies at Paris and Padua.]
He was educated under the king's eye, and at the king's expense; he was
pensioned and endowed, according to the fashion of the time, while
still a boy, with an ecclesiastical benefice; and he was designed,
should his inclination permit him, for the highest office in the English
church. These general kindnesses he himself gratefully acknowledges; and
he professes to have repaid Henry's care with a child's affection. He
says that he loved the king for his generosity to himself and his
family; that he loved him for his own high and noble qualities, his
liberality, his gentleness, his piety, his princely illustrious
nature.[36] Nor did he fail to profit by the advantages which were
heaped upon him. He studied industriously at Paris and at Padua,
acquiring, as he believed, all knowledge which living teachers could
impart to him; and he was himself so well satisfied with the result,
that at the mature age of thirty-six he could describe himself to Henry
as one who, although a young man, "had long been conversant with old
men; had long judged the eldest man that lived too young for him to
learn wisdom from."[37] Many ambitious youths have experienced the same
opinion of themselves; few have ventured on so confident an expression
of it. But for his family's sake as much as for his own, the king
continued to regard him with favour; and could he have prevailed upon
himself to acquiesce in the divorce of Queen Catherine, it is possible
that he would have succeeded Warham in the English primacy.
[Sidenote: He opposes the divorce.]
[Sidenote: Exertions are made to gain him over.]
[Sidenote: He wavers, but recovers his firmness].
[Sidenote: And writes a remonstrance.]
[Sidenote: He goes abroad with leave of absence, and is exempted from
the obligation of the oath of allegiance.]
From conviction, however, or from the tendency to contradiction
characteristic of a peculiar kind of talent, Pole was unable to adopt an
opinion so desirable for his interests. First doubtfully, and afterwards
emphatically and positively, he declared his dissent from the
resolutions of parliament and convocation. He had witnessed with his own
eyes the means by which the sentences had been obtained of the
universities abroad. He was satisfied of the injustice of the cause. He
assured himself that to proceed in it would be perilous to the realm.
His birth and the king's regard for him gave an importance to his
judgment which it would not otherwise have obtained. Repeated efforts
were made to gain him. His brother, Lord Montague, the Duke of Norfolk,
even Henry himself, exerted all their powers of persuasion. On the death
of Wolsey the archbishopric of York was held out to him as the reward of
compliance.[38] Once only he wavered. He had discovered, as he imagined,
a means of making a compromise with his conscience, and he went down to
Whitehall to communicate his change. But, as he rather theatrically
relates, when he found himself in the presence-chamber he could not
utter the words which he had intended to use; either he was restrained
by a Higher Power, or the sight of that Henry whom he loved so tenderly
paralysed his tongue; he burst into tears, and the king left him in
displeasure.[39] On retiring from the palace he wrote a letter of
apology; accompanying it, perhaps, with the formal statement of the
grounds of his opposition, which about this time he submitted to the
government.[40] His defence was received kindly; but, though clever, it
was little to the purpose. The arguments were chiefly political; and
Henry, who listened patiently to any objection on the ground of
principle, paid no very high respect to the opinion of a university
student in matters of state. Pole, finding his position increasingly
uneasy, in 1532 applied for and obtained permission to reside for a time
at Avignon. In his absence the divorce was completed; and England
becoming more than ever distasteful to him, he removed to the monastery
of Carpentras, and thence to his old quarters at Padua. Meantime Henry's
personal kindness towards him remained undiminished. His leave of
absence was indefinitely extended. His pension was continued to him; the
revenues of the deanery of Exeter were regularly paid to his account;
and he was exempted specially from the general condition required of all
holders of ecclesiastical benefices, the swearing allegiance to the
children of Queen Anne. He could himself neither have desired nor
expected a larger measure of forbearance.[41]
[Sidenote: His opinion is required on the supremacy of the see of Rome,]
This was his position in the year 1535, when, in common with all other
English noblemen and gentlemen, he was requested to send in his opinion
on the authority in foreign countries claimed by the see of Rome, and at
the same time to state whether his sentiments on the previous question
remained unchanged. The application was not formally made through the
council. A civilian, a Mr. Starkey, a personal acquaintance, was
entrusted with the commission of sending it; and Starkey took the
opportunity of advising his friend to avoid the errors into which he had
previously fallen. Pole's opinion on political perils, foreign
invasions, internal commotions, was not wanted. "As touching the
_policy_ of the separation from Rome, and the divorce, and of the
bringing them to effect, whether it were done well or ill," Starkey
ironically wrote, "his Grace requireth no judgment of you, as of one
that of such things hath no great experience as yet. Whether it should
be _convenient_ that there should be one head in the Church, and that
the Bishop of Rome ... set this aside, ... and in the matrimony, whether
the policy he hath used therein be profitable to the realm or no ...
leave that aside ... only shew you whether the supremacy which the
Bishop of Rome has for many ages claimed be of Divine right or no ...
and if the first matrimony see of Rome, were to make, you would approve
it then or no ... and the cause why you would not."
[Sidenote: And he is warned to answer sincerely.]
Finally, as Pole once before had been tempted to give an opinion against
his conscience, Starkey warned him to reply sincerely and honestly; to
think first of God and the truth; and only when his conscience would
permit him, to consider how he could satisfy the king. "His Grace said
to me," the letter concluded, "that he would rather you were buried
there than you should, for any worldly promotion or profit to yourself,
dissemble with him in these great and weighty causes."[42]
[Sidenote: He composes the book "De Unitate Ecclesiæ," and submits it to
Cardinal Contarini.]
The tone of this concluding passage teaches us not to rely too
absolutely on Pole's own version of the attempts which had before been
made upon his constancy. Perhaps the admonition, perhaps the irony, of
his correspondent galled him. At any rate, the king desired the truth,
and the truth he should have. Other things had been in rapid development
since Pole left England. He, too, had chosen his course, and his mind
had not stood still. It was now the winter of 1535, when the scheme of
the crusade was first taking shape. At this juncture he sat down to
comply with the king's demands. Instead of brief answers to brief
questions, he composed a considerable volume; and as the several parts
were completed, they were submitted to the inspection of Cardinal
Contarini. Had the project of war gone forward, and had other matters
remained unchanged, it is possible that Contarini would have found no
fault with a composition which afterwards was regarded in the Catholic
world with so much complacency. Under the actual circumstances, his
language alarmed by its violence. The cardinal protested against an
invective which could only irritate, and entreated Pole to reconsider
what he had written.
[Sidenote: Contarini protests, and Pole tells him that the book is
chiefly intended for the English nation.]
If Pole had been honest--if he had desired only the interests of the
Catholic church--he would have listened to advice; but he replied that
he well knew the king's character, and that the evil had risen to its
present height because no one had ventured to speak the truth to him.
Henry was not a man who could be moved by gentleness. Long ago the
heaviest censures of the Church ought to have been launched upon him,
and by that time he would have returned to his obedience. He said also
(and this is especially to be noticed), that he was not so much
addressing the king as addressing the English nation, who were impassive
and hard to move. He was determined to open their eyes to the delusion
into which they were betrayed, and he must go beyond the matter and
beside it, and insinuate when he was unable to assert.[43]
In this mood, and while the book was still unsent, he learnt with utter
mortification of the relinquishment of the Emperor's intended
enterprise, and the possible peaceful close of the quarrel. He had
proposed to himself a far different solution. It may be that he was
convinced that no such peaceful close could lead to good. It may have
been, that the white rose was twining pure before his imagination, with
no red blossoms intermixed, round the pillars of a regenerated church.
Or, perhaps, many motives, distinct and indistinct, were working upon
him. Only the fact is certain, that he might have mediated, but that he
was determined rather to make mediation impossible; the broken limb
should not be set in its existing posture.
[Sidenote: He considers that Henry must not be reconciled to]
[Sidenote: the Church, except on his unconditional submission.]
In March he heard that the Pope was softening. He wrote, urgently
entreating that his Holiness would commit himself in nothing till in
possession of secrets which he could communicate.[44] Contarini having
desired that he might show the book to Paul, he refused, under the plea
that others might see it, and that he was bound to give Henry the first
perusal; an honourable answer, if his other insincerity allowed us to
accept his word. We may believe, with no want of charity, that his real
fear was, lest Paul should share the feelings of Contarini, and for the
present discourage its despatch.[45] His letters at this time display an
unveiled anxiety for immediate open hostility. His advice to the Pope
was to send out his bull without more delay. He passionately deplored
the change which the death of Catherine had worked upon Charles. "Alas!"
he said, "that the interests of the Church should be affected by the
life or death of a single woman! Oh that his Holiness could but convince
the Emperor of his blessed privileges as the champion of the Catholic
faith!"[46] "The Emperor preferred to fight against the Turks. What were
the Turks compared with the antichrist of England? What advantages would
be gained if the Crescent were driven out of Europe, and England were
lost? Let him strike at once while the wound was green: it would soon
gangrene and mortify, and then it would be too late."
This language, under some aspects, may appear pardonable--may, perhaps,
be admired as the expression of a fine enthusiasm. Those whose sympathy
with sentimental emotions is restrained within the prosaic limits of
ordinary law, would call it by a harder name. High treason, if it be not
a virtue, is the worst of crimes; and for a subject to invite a foreign
power to invade his country is the darkest form of treason. An unjust
exile might be pleaded as a faint palliation--a distinct religious
obligation might convert the traitor into a patriot. Neither of these
pretexts could be urged at the existing crisis in defence of Reginald
Pole.
The book was completed in the middle of the winter; the correspondence
connected with it extended through February, March, and April. In May
came the news of Anne Boleyn's crimes, and the fresh impulse which I
have described to the hopes of the Pope and his more moderate advisers.
The expectation of a reconciliation was approaching to a certainty, and
if he waited longer it might be too late. That particular time he
selected to despatch his composition, and rouse again (it is idle to
suppose that he was blind to the inevitable consequence) the full storm
of indignation and suspicion.[47]
[Sidenote: May. He sends his book to England.]
A production, the effect of which was so considerable, requires some
analysis. It shall be as brief as is consistent with the due
understanding of the feeling which the book created.[48]
[Sidenote: He writes as a faithful servant to his sick master.]
"Whether to write or not to write," commenced the youthful champion of
the faith, "I cannot tell; when to write has cost the lives of so many
and so noble men, and the service of God is counted for the worst of
crimes. Duty urges me to write; yet what shall I write? The most
faithful servant may hesitate in what language to address his sick
master, when those who so far have approached his bed have forfeited
their lives. Yet speak I will--I will cry in your ears as in the ears of
a dead man--dead in your sins. I love you--wicked as you are, I love
you. I hope for you, and may God hear my prayer. You desire the truth; I
should be a traitor, then, did I conceal from you the truth. I owe my
learning to your care. I will use against yourself the weapons with
which yourself have armed me.
[Sidenote: He will show Henry his crimes.]
"You have done no wrong, you say. Come, then, I will show you your
wrong. You have changed the constitution of your country, and that is
wrong. When the Church had but one head, you have made her a monster
with a separate head in every realm, and that is wrong. You, of all
princes (bad and impious as many of them have been), are the first who
has ventured so enormous an impiety. Your flatterers have filled your
heart with folly; you have made yourself abhorred among the rulers of
Christendom. Do you suppose that in all these centuries the Church has
failed to learn how best she should be governed? What insolence to the
bride of Christ! What insolence to Christ Himself! You pretend to follow
Scripture! So say all heretics, and with equal justice. No word in
Scripture makes for you, except it be the single sentence, 'Honour the
king.' How frail a foundation for so huge a superstructure!"
Having thus opened the indictment, he proceeded to dissect a book which
had been written on the Supremacy by Dr. Sampson. Here he for some time
expatiated, and having disposed of his theological antagonist, opened
his parallels upon the king by a discussion of the principles of a
commonwealth.
[Sidenote: His theory of the constitution of a state.]
"What is a king?" he asked. "A king exists for the sake of his people;
he is an outcome from Nature in labour;[49] an institution for the
defence of material and temporal interests. But inasmuch there are
interests beyond the temporal, so there is a jurisdiction beyond the
king's. The glory of a king is the welfare of his people; and if he
knew himself, and knew his office, he would lay his crown and kingdom at
the feet of the priesthood, as in a haven and quiet resting place. To
priests it was said, 'Ye are gods, and ye are the children of the Most
High.' Who, then, can doubt that priests are higher in dignity than
kings. In human society are three grades--the people--the priesthood,
the head and husband of the people--the king, who is the child, the
creature, and minister of the other two."[50]
From these premises it followed that Henry was a traitor, a rebel
against his true superior; and the first section closed with a fine
rhetorical peroration.
[Sidenote: The king is the man of sin and the prince of pride.]
"Oh, Henry!" he exclaimed, "more wicked than Ozias, who was smitten with
leprosy when he despised the warnings of Azariah--more wicked than Saul,
who slew the priests of the Lord--more wicked than Dathan and Abiram,
who rose in rebellion against Aaron--what hast thou done? What! but that
which is written in the Scripture of the prince of pride--'I will climb
up into heaven; I will set my throne above the stars; I will sit me down
on the mount of the covenant; I will make myself even with the Most
High.' . . . He shall send his vengeance upon thee--vengeance sudden,
swift, and terrible. It shall come; nor can I pray that it may longer
tarry. Rather may it come and come quickly, to the glory of his name. I
will say, like Elijah, 'Oh, Lord! they have slain thy prophets with the
edge of the sword; they have thrown down thine altars; and I only am
left, and they seek my life to take it away. Up, Lord, and avenge the
blood of thy holy ones.'"
[Sidenote: The English bishops are the robber Cacus; the Pope is the
sleeping Hercules.]
He now paused for a moment in his denunciation of Henry, and took up his
parable against the English bishops, who had betrayed the flock of
Christ, and driven them into the den of the villain king. "You thought,"
he said to these learned prelates, "that the Roman pontiff slept--that
you might spoil him with impunity, as the robber Cacus spoiled the
sleeping Hercules. Ah! but the Lord of the sheep sees you. He sees you
from his throne in heaven. Not we only who are left yet alive tell, with
our bleating voices, whither you have driven us; but, in louder tones
than ours, the blood of those whom ye have slain, because they would not
hear your hireling voices, cries out of the dust to Christ. Oh,
horrible!--most horrible! No penalty which human justice could devise
can reach your crimes. Men look to see when some unwonted vengeance
shall light upon you, like that which fell on Korah and his company, in
whose footsteps ye now are following. If the earth open her mouth and
swallow you up quick, every Christian man will applaud the righteous
judgment of the Almighty."
[Sidenote: Responsibility of sovereigns to their subjects.]
Again he passed back to the king, assailing him in pages of alternate
argument and reprobation. In most modern language he asserted the
responsibility of sovereigns, calling English history to witness for him
in the just rebellions provoked by tyranny; and Henry, he said, had
broken his coronation oath and forfeited his crown. This and similar
matter occupied the second part. It had been tolerably immoderate even
so far, but the main torrent had yet to flow.
The third and most important section divides itself into an address,
first to the king and then to England; finally to the foreign
powers--the Emperor particularly, and the Spanish army.
[Sidenote: He will be the king's physician, and unfold his wicked heart
to him.]
[Sidenote: The king a thief and a robber.]
"I have spoken," he commenced, "but, after all, I have spoken in vain.
Wine turns to vinegar in a foul vessel; and to little purpose have I
poured my truth into a mind defiled with falsehood and impurity. How
shall I purify you? How, indeed! when you imagine that yourself, and not
I, are in possession of the truth; when you undertake to be a teacher of
others; when, forsooth, you are head of a church. But, come, listen to
me. I will be your physician. I will thrust a probe into those envenomed
wounds. If I cause you pain, believe that it is for your good. You do
not know that you have a wound to probe. You pretend that you have only
sought to do the will of God. You will say so. I know it. But, I beseech
you, listen to me. Was it indeed your conscience which moved you? Not
so. You lusted after a woman who was not your wife. You would make the
Word of God bear false witness for you; and God's providence has
permitted you to overwhelm yourself in infamy. I say, you desired to
fulfil your lusts. And how, you ask, do I know this? How can I see your
heart? Who but God can read those secrets? Yes, oh prince; he also
knows--to whom God will reveal the heart. And I tell you that I am he to
whom God has revealed yours. You will cry out against my arrogance. How
should God open your heart to me? But contain yourself a little. I do
not say that God has shewn more to me than he has shewn to any man who
will use his understanding.[51] You think that the offspring of your
harlot will be allowed to sit on the throne, that the pure blood of
England will endure to be her subjects. No, truly. If you dream thus,
you have little of your father's wisdom. There is not a peer in all the
land who will not hold his title better than the title of a harlot's
bastard. Like Cadmus, you have flung a spear among your people, and
armed them for mutual slaughter. And you--you, the vilest of
plunderers--a thief--a robber--you call yourself supreme head of the
Church! I acquit the nation of the infamy of their consent. They have
not consented. The few suffrages which you can claim have been extorted
by terrour. Again, how do I know this? I, who was absent from my
country? Yes, I was absent. Nor have I heard one word of it from any
creature. And yet so it is. I have a more sure testimony than the
testimony of eyes and ears, which forbids me to be mistaken."
The witness was the death of Sir Thomas More, Bishop Fisher, and the
Charterhouse monks; and the story of their martyrdom was told with some
power and passion.
[Sidenote: He calls on England to rise in rebellion.]
The remedy for all its evils rested with England. England must rebel. He
called on it, with solemn earnestness, to consider its position: its
church infected with heresy, its saints slaughtered, its laws uprooted,
its succession shattered; sedition within, and foreign war imminent from
without; and the single cause of these accumulated miseries a licentious
tyrant. "And oh! my country," he exclaimed, "if any memory remains to
you of your antient liberties, remember--remember the time when kings
who ruled over you unjustly were called to account by the authority of
your laws. They tell you that all is the king's. I tell you that all is
the commonwealth's. You, oh! my country, are all. The king is but your
servant and minister. Wipe away your tears, and turn to the Lord your
God."
[Sidenote: He will invite the King of France to depose Henry.]
Of his own conduct he would give Henry fair warning. "I myself," he
said, once more addressing him, "I myself shall approach the throne of
your last ally, the King of France. I shall demand that he assist you no
longer; that, remembering the honour of his father, with his own past
fidelity to the Church of Christ, he will turn against you and strike
you down. And think you that he will refuse my petition? How long dream
you that God will bear with you? Your company shall be broken up. The
scourge shall come down upon you like a wave. The pirates who waste the
shores of the Mediterranean are less the servants of Satan than you. The
pirates murder but the bodies of men. You murder their souls. Satan
alone, of all created beings, may fitly be compared with you."
So far I have endeavoured to condense the voluminous language into a
paraphrase, which but languidly approaches the blaze and fury of the
original. Vituperation, notwithstanding, would have been of trifling
consequence; and the safe exhortations of refugees, inciting domestic
rebellions the dangers of which they have no intention of sharing, are a
form of treason which may usually be despised. But it is otherwise when
the refugee becomes a foreign agent of his faction, and not only
threatens to invite invasion, but converts his menace into act. When the
pages which follow were printed, they seemed of such grave moment that
they were extracted and circulated as a pamphlet in the German States.
The translation, therefore, will now adhere closely to the text.
[Sidenote: The invocation of the Emperor.]
[Sidenote: Who are the true enemies of Christendom?]
[Sidenote: Not Turks, but heretics.]
[Sidenote: Heresy in Germany.]
[Sidenote: Deeper heresy in England,]
[Sidenote: Which will grow inveterate if it be not nipped in the bud.]
"I call to witness," he went on, "that love of my country which is
engrafted in me by nature--that love of the Church which is given to me
by the Son of God--did I hear that the Emperor was on the seas, on his
way against Constantinople, I would know no rest till I was at his
feet--I would call to him were he in the very narrows of the
Bosphorus--I would force myself into his presence--I would address him
thus: 'Cæsar,' I would say, 'what is this which you are doing? Whither
are you leading this mighty army? Would you subdue the enemies of
Christendom? Oh! then, turn, turn your sails. Go where a worse peril is
threatening--where the wound is fresh, and where a foe presses more
fearful far than the Turk. You count it a noble thing to break the
chains of Christian captives: and noble, indeed, it is. But more
glorious is it to rescue from eternal damnation the many thousand souls
who are torn from the Church's bosom, and to bring them back to the
faith of Christ. What will you have gained when you have driven back the
Turks, if other Turks be sprung up meanwhile amidst ourselves? What are
Turks save a sect of Christians revolted from the Church? The beginning
of the Turks is the beginning of all heretics. They rejected the Head
which was set over them by Christ, and thus by degrees they fell away
from the doctrine of Christ. What then? See you not the seed of these
self-same Turks scattered at home before your doors? Would, indeed, it
were so scanty that there was any difficulty in discerning its presence!
Yes; you see it, sad to say, in your own Germany. The disease is there,
though not as yet in its worst form. It is not yet set forth by
authority. The German church may even now cast forth the seed of the
adulterers, and bear again the true fruit of Catholic truth. But for
England! Alas! in England that seed is sown thick and broad; and by the
sovereign's hand. It is sown, and it is quickening, and the growing
blade is defended by the sword. The sword is the answer to all
opponents. Nay, even silence is an equal crime. Thomas More, the wisest,
the most virtuous of living men, was slain for silence. Among the monks,
the more holy, the more devout they be, the greater is the peril. All
lips are closed by fear of death. If these fine beginnings do not prove
to you what it is to forsake the head of the Church, what other evidence
do you desire? The Turks might teach you: they, too, forsook him--they,
too, brought in the power of the sword; by the sword these many ages
they have maintained themselves, and now the memory of their mother has
perished, and too late the Church cries to her lost children to return
to her.[52] Or, again, Germany may teach you. How calm, how tranquil,
how full of piety was Germany! How did Germany flourish while it held
steadfast by the faith! How has it been torn with wars, distracted with
mutinies, since it has revolted from its allegiance! There is no hope
for Germany, unless, which God grant, it return to the Church--our
Supreme Head. This is the Church's surest bulwark; this is the first
mark for the assaults of heretics; this is the first rallying point of
true Catholics; this, Cæsar, those heroic children of the Church in
England have lately died to defend, choosing rather to give their naked
bodies to the swords of their enemies than desert a post which was the
key to the sanctuary.
[Sidenote: The venom of heresy has reached a king.]
[Sidenote: The servants of Christ cry to Charles to help them.]
[Sidenote: Legions of the faithful in England will rally to his
banners.]
"'That post was stormed--those valiant soldiers were slain. What wonder,
when the champion of the foemen's host was a king! Oh, misery! worse
than the worst which ever yet has befallen the spouse of Christ! The
poison of heresy has reached a king, and, like the Turk, he shakes his
drawn sword in the face of all who resist him. If he affect now some
show of moderation, it is but to gain time and strength, that he may
strike the deadlier blows; and strike he will, doubt it not, if he
obtain his desire. Will you then, Cæsar--you who profess that you love
the faith--will you grant him that time? When the servants of Christ cry
to you, in their agony, for help,--when you must aid them now, or your
aid will be for ever useless,--will you turn your arms on other foes?
will you be found wanting to the passionate hope of your friends, when
that hope alone, that simple hope, has held them back from using their
own strength and striking for themselves? Dream not, Cæsar, that all
generous hearts are quenched in England--that faith and piety are dead.
Judge rather those who are alive by the deaths of those who have gone to
the scaffold for religion's sake. If God reserved for Himself seven
thousand in Israel who had not bowed the knee to Baal, when Ahab and his
cursed Jezebel slew his prophets, think not that, in these days of
greater light, our Jezebel, with all her scent for blood, has destroyed
the whole defenders of the truth. There are legions in England yet
unbroken who have never yet bent their knees. Go thither, and God, who
has been their Saviour, will bid them rally to your banners. They are
the same English, Cæsar, who, unaided, and in slighter causes, have
brought their princes to their judgment bar--have bidden them give
account for moneys wasted to the prejudice of the commonwealth, and when
they could not pass their audit, have stripped them of crown and
sceptre. They are the same; and long ago, in like manner, would they
have punished this king also, but that they looked to you. In you is
their trust--in your noble nature, and in your zeal for God. Their cause
is yours, peculiarly yours; by you they think the evil can be remedied
with less hurt to England than by themselves. Wisely, therefore, they
hold their hand till you shall come.
[Sidenote: Catherine of Arragon appeals to her Spaniards.]