CHAPTER XXVII--ENGLAND UNDER HENRY THE EIGHTH, CALLED BLUFF KING HAL ANDBURLY KING HARRY
PART THE FIRST
We now come to King Henry the Eighth, whom it has been too much thefashion to call 'Bluff King Hal,' and 'Burly King Harry,' and other finenames; but whom I shall take the liberty to call, plainly, one of themost detestable villains that ever drew breath. You will be able tojudge, long before we come to the end of his life, whether he deservesthe character.
He was just eighteen years of age when he came to the throne. Peoplesaid he was handsome then; but I don't believe it. He was a big, burly,noisy, small-eyed, large-faced, double-chinned, swinish-looking fellow inlater life (as we know from the likenesses of him, painted by the famousHANS HOLBEIN), and it is not easy to believe that so bad a character canever have been veiled under a prepossessing appearance.
He was anxious to make himself popular; and the people, who had longdisliked the late King, were very willing to believe that he deserved tobe so. He was extremely fond of show and display, and so were they.Therefore there was great rejoicing when he married the PrincessCatherine, and when they were both crowned. And the King fought attournaments and always came off victorious--for the courtiers took careof that--and there was a general outcry that he was a wonderful man.Empson, Dudley, and their supporters were accused of a variety of crimesthey had never committed, instead of the offences of which they reallyhad been guilty; and they were pilloried, and set upon horses with theirfaces to the tails, and knocked about and beheaded, to the satisfactionof the people, and the enrichment of the King.
The Pope, so indefatigable in getting the world into trouble, had mixedhimself up in a war on the continent of Europe, occasioned by thereigning Princes of little quarrelling states in Italy having at varioustimes married into other Royal families, and so led to _their_ claiming ashare in those petty Governments. The King, who discovered that he wasvery fond of the Pope, sent a herald to the King of France, to say thathe must not make war upon that holy personage, because he was the fatherof all Christians. As the French King did not mind this relationship inthe least, and also refused to admit a claim King Henry made to certainlands in France, war was declared between the two countries. Not toperplex this story with an account of the tricks and designs of all thesovereigns who were engaged in it, it is enough to say that England madea blundering alliance with Spain, and got stupidly taken in by thatcountry; which made its own terms with France when it could and leftEngland in the lurch. SIR EDWARD HOWARD, a bold admiral, son of the Earlof Surrey, distinguished himself by his bravery against the French inthis business; but, unfortunately, he was more brave than wise, for,skimming into the French harbour of Brest with only a few row-boats, heattempted (in revenge for the defeat and death of SIR THOMAS KNYVETT,another bold English admiral) to take some strong French ships, welldefended with batteries of cannon. The upshot was, that he was left onboard of one of them (in consequence of its shooting away from his ownboat), with not more than about a dozen men, and was thrown into the seaand drowned: though not until he had taken from his breast his gold chainand gold whistle, which were the signs of his office, and had cast theminto the sea to prevent their being made a boast of by the enemy. Afterthis defeat--which was a great one, for Sir Edward Howard was a man ofvalour and fame--the King took it into his head to invade France inperson; first executing that dangerous Earl of Suffolk whom his fatherhad left in the Tower, and appointing Queen Catherine to the charge ofhis kingdom in his absence. He sailed to Calais, where he was joined byMAXIMILIAN, Emperor of Germany, who pretended to be his soldier, and whotook pay in his service: with a good deal of nonsense of that sort,flattering enough to the vanity of a vain blusterer. The King might besuccessful enough in sham fights; but his idea of real battles chieflyconsisted in pitching silken tents of bright colours that wereignominiously blown down by the wind, and in making a vast display ofgaudy flags and golden curtains. Fortune, however, favoured him betterthan he deserved; for, after much waste of time in tent pitching, flagflying, gold curtaining, and other such masquerading, he gave the Frenchbattle at a place called Guinegate: where they took such an unaccountablepanic, and fled with such swiftness, that it was ever afterwards calledby the English the Battle of Spurs. Instead of following up hisadvantage, the King, finding that he had had enough of real fighting,came home again.
The Scottish King, though nearly related to Henry by marriage, had takenpart against him in this war. The Earl of Surrey, as the Englishgeneral, advanced to meet him when he came out of his own dominions andcrossed the river Tweed. The two armies came up with one another whenthe Scottish King had also crossed the river Till, and was encamped uponthe last of the Cheviot Hills, called the Hill of Flodden. Along theplain below it, the English, when the hour of battle came, advanced. TheScottish army, which had been drawn up in five great bodies, then camesteadily down in perfect silence. So they, in their turn, advanced tomeet the English army, which came on in one long line; and they attackedit with a body of spearmen, under LORD HOME. At first they had the bestof it; but the English recovered themselves so bravely, and fought withsuch valour, that, when the Scottish King had almost made his way up tothe Royal Standard, he was slain, and the whole Scottish power routed.Ten thousand Scottish men lay dead that day on Flodden Field; and amongthem, numbers of the nobility and gentry. For a long time afterwards,the Scottish peasantry used to believe that their King had not beenreally killed in this battle, because no Englishman had found an ironbelt he wore about his body as a penance for having been an unnatural andundutiful son. But, whatever became of his belt, the English had hissword and dagger, and the ring from his finger, and his body too, coveredwith wounds. There is no doubt of it; for it was seen and recognised byEnglish gentlemen who had known the Scottish King well.
When King Henry was making ready to renew the war in France, the FrenchKing was contemplating peace. His queen, dying at this time, heproposed, though he was upwards of fifty years old, to marry King Henry'ssister, the Princess Mary, who, besides being only sixteen, was betrothedto the Duke of Suffolk. As the inclinations of young Princesses were notmuch considered in such matters, the marriage was concluded, and the poorgirl was escorted to France, where she was immediately left as the FrenchKing's bride, with only one of all her English attendants. That one wasa pretty young girl named ANNE BOLEYN, niece of the Earl of Surrey, whohad been made Duke of Norfolk, after the victory of Flodden Field. AnneBoleyn's is a name to be remembered, as you will presently find.
And now the French King, who was very proud of his young wife, waspreparing for many years of happiness, and she was looking forward, Idare say, to many years of misery, when he died within three months, andleft her a young widow. The new French monarch, FRANCIS THE FIRST,seeing how important it was to his interests that she should take for hersecond husband no one but an Englishman, advised her first lover, theDuke of Suffolk, when King Henry sent him over to France to fetch herhome, to marry her. The Princess being herself so fond of that Duke, asto tell him that he must either do so then, or for ever lose her, theywere wedded; and Henry afterwards forgave them. In making interest withthe King, the Duke of Suffolk had addressed his most powerful favouriteand adviser, THOMAS WOLSEY--a name very famous in history for its riseand downfall.
Wolsey was the son of a respectable butcher at Ipswich, in Suffolk andreceived so excellent an education that he became a tutor to the familyof the Marquis of Dorset, who afterwards got him appointed one of thelate King's chaplains. On the accession of Henry the Eighth, he waspromoted and taken into great favour. He was now Archbishop of York; thePope had made him a Cardinal besides; and whoever wanted influence inEngland or favour with the King--whether he were a foreign monarch or anEnglish nobleman--was obliged to make a friend of the great CardinalWolsey.
He was a gay man, who could dance and jest, and sing and drink; and thosewere the roads to so much, or rather so little, of a heart as King Henryhad. He was wonderfully fond of pomp and glitter, and so was the King.He knew a good deal of the Church learning of that time; much of whichconsisted in finding artful excuses and pretences for almost any wrongthing, and in arguing that black was white, or any other colour. Thiskind of learning pleased the King too. For many such reasons, theCardinal was high in estimation with the King; and, being a man of fargreater ability, knew as well how to manage him, as a clever keeper mayknow how to manage a wolf or a tiger, or any other cruel and uncertainbeast, that may turn upon him and tear him any day. Never had there beenseen in England such state as my Lord Cardinal kept. His wealth wasenormous; equal, it was reckoned, to the riches of the Crown. Hispalaces were as splendid as the King's, and his retinue was eight hundredstrong. He held his Court, dressed out from top to toe in flamingscarlet; and his very shoes were golden, set with precious stones. Hisfollowers rode on blood horses; while he, with a wonderful affectation ofhumility in the midst of his great splendour, ambled on a mule with a redvelvet saddle and bridle and golden stirrups.
Through the influence of this stately priest, a grand meeting wasarranged to take place between the French and English Kings in France;but on ground belonging to England. A prodigious show of friendship andrejoicing was to be made on the occasion; and heralds were sent toproclaim with brazen trumpets through all the principal cities of Europe,that, on a certain day, the Kings of France and England, as companionsand brothers in arms, each attended by eighteen followers, would hold atournament against all knights who might choose to come.
CHARLES, the new Emperor of Germany (the old one being dead), wanted toprevent too cordial an alliance between these sovereigns, and came overto England before the King could repair to the place of meeting; and,besides making an agreeable impression upon him, secured Wolsey'sinterest by promising that his influence should make him Pope when thenext vacancy occurred. On the day when the Emperor left England, theKing and all the Court went over to Calais, and thence to the place ofmeeting, between Ardres and Guisnes, commonly called the Field of theCloth of Gold. Here, all manner of expense and prodigality was lavishedon the decorations of the show; many of the knights and gentlemen beingso superbly dressed that it was said they carried their whole estatesupon their shoulders.
There were sham castles, temporary chapels, fountains running wine, greatcellars full of wine free as water to all comers, silk tents, gold laceand foil, gilt lions, and such things without end; and, in the midst ofall, the rich Cardinal out-shone and out-glittered all the noblemen andgentlemen assembled. After a treaty made between the two Kings with asmuch solemnity as if they had intended to keep it, the lists--ninehundred feet long, and three hundred and twenty broad--were opened forthe tournament; the Queens of France and England looking on with greatarray of lords and ladies. Then, for ten days, the two sovereigns foughtfive combats every day, and always beat their polite adversaries; thoughthey _do_ write that the King of England, being thrown in a wrestle oneday by the King of France, lost his kingly temper with his brother-in-arms, and wanted to make a quarrel of it. Then, there is a great storybelonging to this Field of the Cloth of Gold, showing how the Englishwere distrustful of the French, and the French of the English, untilFrancis rode alone one morning to Henry's tent; and, going in before hewas out of bed, told him in joke that he was his prisoner; and how Henryjumped out of bed and embraced Francis; and how Francis helped Henry todress, and warmed his linen for him; and how Henry gave Francis asplendid jewelled collar, and how Francis gave Henry, in return, a costlybracelet. All this and a great deal more was so written about, and sungabout, and talked about at that time (and, indeed, since that time too),that the world has had good cause to be sick of it, for ever.
Of course, nothing came of all these fine doings but a speedy renewal ofthe war between England and France, in which the two Royal companions andbrothers in arms longed very earnestly to damage one another. But,before it broke out again, the Duke of Buckingham was shamefully executedon Tower Hill, on the evidence of a discharged servant--really fornothing, except the folly of having believed in a friar of the name ofHOPKINS, who had pretended to be a prophet, and who had mumbled andjumbled out some nonsense about the Duke's son being destined to be verygreat in the land. It was believed that the unfortunate Duke had givenoffence to the great Cardinal by expressing his mind freely about theexpense and absurdity of the whole business of the Field of the Cloth ofGold. At any rate, he was beheaded, as I have said, for nothing. Andthe people who saw it done were very angry, and cried out that it was thework of 'the butcher's son!'
The new war was a short one, though the Earl of Surrey invaded Franceagain, and did some injury to that country. It ended in another treatyof peace between the two kingdoms, and in the discovery that the Emperorof Germany was not such a good friend to England in reality, as hepretended to be. Neither did he keep his promise to Wolsey to make himPope, though the King urged him. Two Popes died in pretty quicksuccession; but the foreign priests were too much for the Cardinal, andkept him out of the post. So the Cardinal and King together found outthat the Emperor of Germany was not a man to keep faith with; broke off aprojected marriage between the King's daughter MARY, Princess of Wales,and that sovereign; and began to consider whether it might not be well tomarry the young lady, either to Francis himself, or to his eldest son.
There now arose at Wittemberg, in Germany, the great leader of the mightychange in England which is called The Reformation, and which set thepeople free from their slavery to the priests. This was a learnedDoctor, named MARTIN LUTHER, who knew all about them, for he had been apriest, and even a monk, himself. The preaching and writing of Wickliffehad set a number of men thinking on this subject; and Luther, finding oneday to his great surprise, that there really was a book called the NewTestament which the priests did not allow to be read, and which containedtruths that they suppressed, began to be very vigorous against the wholebody, from the Pope downward. It happened, while he was yet onlybeginning his vast work of awakening the nation, that an impudent fellownamed TETZEL, a friar of very bad character, came into his neighbourhoodselling what were called Indulgences, by wholesale, to raise money forbeautifying the great Cathedral of St. Peter's, at Rome. Whoever boughtan Indulgence of the Pope was supposed to buy himself off from thepunishment of Heaven for his offences. Luther told the people that theseIndulgences were worthless bits of paper, before God, and that Tetzel andhis masters were a crew of impostors in selling them.
The King and the Cardinal were mightily indignant at this presumption;and the King (with the help of SIR THOMAS MORE, a wise man, whom heafterwards repaid by striking off his head) even wrote a book about it,with which the Pope was so well pleased that he gave the King the titleof Defender of the Faith. The King and the Cardinal also issued flamingwarnings to the people not to read Luther's books, on pain ofexcommunication. But they did read them for all that; and the rumour ofwhat was in them spread far and wide.
When this great change was thus going on, the King began to show himselfin his truest and worst colours. Anne Boleyn, the pretty little girl whohad gone abroad to France with his sister, was by this time grown up tobe very beautiful, and was one of the ladies in attendance on QueenCatherine. Now, Queen Catherine was no longer young or handsome, and itis likely that she was not particularly good-tempered; having been alwaysrather melancholy, and having been made more so by the deaths of four ofher children when they were very young. So, the King fell in love withthe fair Anne Boleyn, and said to himself, 'How can I be best rid of myown troublesome wife whom I am tired of, and marry Anne?'
{Catherine was old, so he fell in love with Anne Boleyn: p0.jpg}
You recollect that Queen Catherine had been the wife of Henry's brother.What does the King do, after thinking it over, but calls his favouritepriests about him, and says, O! his mind is in such a dreadful state, andhe is so frightfully uneasy, because he is afraid it was not lawful forhim to marry the Queen! Not one of those priests had the courage to hintthat it was rather curious he had never thought of that before, and thathis mind seemed to have been in a tolerably jolly condition during agreat many years, in which he certainly had not fretted himself thin;but, they all said, Ah! that was very true, and it was a seriousbusiness; and perhaps the best way to make it right, would be for hisMajesty to be divorced! The King replied, Yes, he thought that would bethe best way, certainly; so they all went to work.
If I were to relate to you the intrigues and plots that took place in theendeavour to get this divorce, you would think the History of England themost tiresome book in the world. So I shall say no more, than that aftera vast deal of negotiation and evasion, the Pope issued a commission toCardinal Wolsey and CARDINAL CAMPEGGIO (whom he sent over from Italy forthe purpose), to try the whole case in England. It is supposed--and Ithink with reason--that Wolsey was the Queen's enemy, because she hadreproved him for his proud and gorgeous manner of life. But, he did notat first know that the King wanted to marry Anne Boleyn; and when he didknow it, he even went down on his knees, in the endeavour to dissuadehim.
The Cardinals opened their court in the Convent of the Black Friars, nearto where the bridge of that name in London now stands; and the King andQueen, that they might be near it, took up their lodgings at theadjoining palace of Bridewell, of which nothing now remains but a badprison. On the opening of the court, when the King and Queen were calledon to appear, that poor ill-used lady, with a dignity and firmness andyet with a womanly affection worthy to be always admired, went andkneeled at the King's feet, and said that she had come, a stranger, tohis dominions; that she had been a good and true wife to him for twentyyears; and that she could acknowledge no power in those Cardinals to trywhether she should be considered his wife after all that time, or shouldbe put away. With that, she got up and left the court, and would neverafterwards come back to it.
The King pretended to be very much overcome, and said, O! my lords andgentlemen, what a good woman she was to be sure, and how delighted hewould be to live with her unto death, but for that terrible uneasiness inhis mind which was quite wearing him away! So, the case went on, andthere was nothing but talk for two months. Then Cardinal Campeggio, who,on behalf of the Pope, wanted nothing so much as delay, adjourned it fortwo more months; and before that time was elapsed, the Pope himselfadjourned it indefinitely, by requiring the King and Queen to come toRome and have it tried there. But by good luck for the King, word wasbrought to him by some of his people, that they had happened to meet atsupper, THOMAS CRANMER, a learned Doctor of Cambridge, who had proposedto urge the Pope on, by referring the case to all the learned doctors andbishops, here and there and everywhere, and getting their opinions thatthe King's marriage was unlawful. The King, who was now in a hurry tomarry Anne Boleyn, thought this such a good idea, that he sent forCranmer, post haste, and said to LORD ROCHFORT, Anne Boleyn's father,'Take this learned Doctor down to your country-house, and there let himhave a good room for a study, and no end of books out of which to provethat I may marry your daughter.' Lord Rochfort, not at all reluctant,made the learned Doctor as comfortable as he could; and the learnedDoctor went to work to prove his case. All this time, the King and AnneBoleyn were writing letters to one another almost daily, full ofimpatience to have the case settled; and Anne Boleyn was showing herself(as I think) very worthy of the fate which afterwards befel her.
It was bad for Cardinal Wolsey that he had left Cranmer to render thishelp. It was worse for him that he had tried to dissuade the King frommarrying Anne Boleyn. Such a servant as he, to such a master as Henry,would probably have fallen in any case; but, between the hatred of theparty of the Queen that was, and the hatred of the party of the Queenthat was to be, he fell suddenly and heavily. Going down one day to theCourt of Chancery, where he now presided, he was waited upon by the Dukesof Norfolk and Suffolk, who told him that they brought an order to him toresign that office, and to withdraw quietly to a house he had at Esher,in Surrey. The Cardinal refusing, they rode off to the King; and nextday came back with a letter from him, on reading which, the Cardinalsubmitted. An inventory was made out of all the riches in his palace atYork Place (now Whitehall), and he went sorrowfully up the river, in hisbarge, to Putney. An abject man he was, in spite of his pride; for beingovertaken, riding out of that place towards Esher, by one of the King'schamberlains who brought him a kind message and a ring, he alighted fromhis mule, took off his cap, and kneeled down in the dirt. His poor Fool,whom in his prosperous days he had always kept in his palace to entertainhim, cut a far better figure than he; for, when the Cardinal said to thechamberlain that he had nothing to send to his lord the King as apresent, but that jester who was a most excellent one, it took six strongyeomen to remove the faithful fool from his master.
The once proud Cardinal was soon further disgraced, and wrote the mostabject letters to his vile sovereign; who humbled him one day andencouraged him the next, according to his humour, until he was at lastordered to go and reside in his diocese of York. He said he was toopoor; but I don't know how he made that out, for he took a hundred andsixty servants with him, and seventy-two cart-loads of furniture, food,and wine. He remained in that part of the country for the best part of ayear, and showed himself so improved by his misfortunes, and was so mildand so conciliating, that he won all hearts. And indeed, even in hisproud days, he had done some magnificent things for learning andeducation. At last, he was arrested for high treason; and, coming slowlyon his journey towards London, got as far as Leicester. Arriving atLeicester Abbey after dark, and very ill, he said--when the monks cameout at the gate with lighted torches to receive him--that he had come tolay his bones among them. He had indeed; for he was taken to a bed, fromwhich he never rose again. His last words were, 'Had I but served God asdiligently as I have served the King, He would not have given me over, inmy grey hairs. Howbeit, this is my just reward for my pains anddiligence, not regarding my service to God, but only my duty to myprince.' The news of his death was quickly carried to the King, who wasamusing himself with archery in the garden of the magnificent Palace atHampton Court, which that very Wolsey had presented to him. The greatestemotion his royal mind displayed at the loss of a servant so faithful andso ruined, was a particular desire to lay hold of fifteen hundred poundswhich the Cardinal was reported to have hidden somewhere.
The opinions concerning the divorce, of the learned doctors and bishopsand others, being at last collected, and being generally in the King'sfavour, were forwarded to the Pope, with an entreaty that he would nowgrant it. The unfortunate Pope, who was a timid man, was half distractedbetween his fear of his authority being set aside in England if he didnot do as he was asked, and his dread of offending the Emperor ofGermany, who was Queen Catherine's nephew. In this state of mind hestill evaded and did nothing. Then, THOMAS CROMWELL, who had been one ofWolsey's faithful attendants, and had remained so even in his decline,advised the King to take the matter into his own hands, and make himselfthe head of the whole Church. This, the King by various artful means,began to do; but he recompensed the clergy by allowing them to burn asmany people as they pleased, for holding Luther's opinions. You mustunderstand that Sir Thomas More, the wise man who had helped the Kingwith his book, had been made Chancellor in Wolsey's place. But, as hewas truly attached to the Church as it was even in its abuses, he, inthis state of things, resigned.
Being now quite resolved to get rid of Queen Catherine, and to marry AnneBoleyn without more ado, the King made Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury,and directed Queen Catherine to leave the Court. She obeyed; but repliedthat wherever she went, she was Queen of England still, and would remainso, to the last. The King then married Anne Boleyn privately; and thenew Archbishop of Canterbury, within half a year, declared his marriagewith Queen Catherine void, and crowned Anne Boleyn Queen.
She might have known that no good could ever come from such wrong, andthat the corpulent brute who had been so faithless and so cruel to hisfirst wife, could be more faithless and more cruel to his second. Shemight have known that, even when he was in love with her, he had been amean and selfish coward, running away, like a frightened cur, from hersociety and her house, when a dangerous sickness broke out in it, andwhen she might easily have taken it and died, as several of the householddid. But, Anne Boleyn arrived at all this knowledge too late, and boughtit at a dear price. Her bad marriage with a worse man came to itsnatural end. Its natural end was not, as we shall too soon see, anatural death for her.