XII.
How Wolsey was disgraced by the King.
On the following day, a reconciliation took place between the king andAnne Boleyn. During a ride in the great park with his royal brother,Suffolk not only convinced him of the groundlessness of his jealousy,but contrived to incense him strongly against Wolsey. Thus the queen andthe cardinal lost the momentary advantage they had gained, while Anne'spower was raised yet higher. Yielding to her entreaties not to seeCatherine again, nor to hold further conference with Wolsey until thesentence of the court should be pronounced, Henry left the castle thatvery day, and proceeded to his palace of Bridewell. The distress of theunhappy queen at this sudden revolution of affairs may be conceived.Distrusting Wolsey, and putting her sole reliance on Heaven and thegoodness of her cause, she withdrew to Blackfriars, where she remainedtill the court met. As to the cardinal himself, driven desperate byhis situation, and exasperated by the treatment he had experienced,he resolved, at whatever risk, to thwart Henry's schemes, and revengehimself upon Anne Boleyn.
Thus matters continued till the court met as before in theParliament-chamber, at Blackfriars. On this occasion Henry was present,and took his place under a cloth of estate,--the queen sitting at somedistance below him. Opposite them were the legates, with the Archbishopof Canterbury, and the whole of the bishops. The aspect of theassemblage was grave and anxious. Many eyes were turned on Henry, wholooked gloomy and menacing, but the chief object of interest was thequeen, who, though pale as death, had never in her highest days of powerworn a more majestic and dignified air than on this occasion.
The proceedings of the court then commenced, and the king being calledby the crier, he immediately answered to the summons. Catherine was nextcalled, and instead of replying, she marched towards the canopy beneathwhich the king was seated, prostrated herself, and poured forth a mostpathetic and eloquent appeal to him, at the close of which she arose,and making a profound reverence, walked out of the court, leaning uponthe arm of her general receiver, Griffith. Henry desired the crier tocall her back, but she would not return; and seeing the effect producedby her address upon the auditory, he endeavoured to efface it by aneulogium on her character and virtues, accompanied by an expression ofdeep regret at the step he was compelled to take in separating himselffrom her. But his hypocrisy availed him little, and his speech wasreceived with looks of ill-disguised incredulity. Some further discoursethen took place between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishopof Rochester; but as the queen had absented herself, the court wasadjourned to the next day, when it again met, and as she did not thenappear, though summoned, she was pronounced contumacious. After repeatedadjournments, the last session was held, and judgment demanded on thepart of the king, when Campeggio, as had been arranged between him andWolsey, declined to pronounce it until he had referred the matter to thePope, and the court was dissolved.
About two months after this event, during which time the legate'scommission had been revoked, while Henry was revolving the expediency ofaccomplishing the divorce through the medium of his own ecclesiasticalcourts, and without reference to that of Rome, a despatch was receivedfrom the Pope by the two cardinals, requiring them to cite the kingto appear before him by attorney on a certain day. At the time of thearrival of this instrument, Campeggio chanced to be staying with Wolseyat his palace at Esher, and as the king was then holding his court atWindsor, they both set out for the castle on the following day, attendedby a retinue of nearly a hundred horsemen, splendidly equipped.
It was now the middle of September, and the woods, instead of presentingone uniform mass of green, glowed with an infinite variety of lovelytints. And yet, despite the beauty of the scene, there was somethingmelancholy in witnessing the decline of the year, as marked by those oldwoods, and by the paths that led through them, so thickly strewn withleaves. Wolsey was greatly affected. "These noble trees will ere longbereft of all their glories," he thought, "and so, most likely, will itbe with me, and perhaps my winter may come sooner than theirs!"
The cardinal and his train had crossed Staines Bridge, and passingthrough Egham, had entered the great park near Englefield Green. Theywere proceeding along the high ridge overlooking the woody regionbetween it and the castle, when a joyous shout in the glades beneathreached them, and looking down, they saw the king accompanied by AnneBoleyn, and attended by his falconers and a large company of horsemen,pursuing the sport of hawking. The royal party appeared so muchinterested in their sport that they did not notice the cardinal and histrain, and were soon out of sight. But as Wolsey descended Snow Hill,and entered the long avenue, he heard the trampling of horses at alittle distance, and shortly afterwards, Henry and Anne issued from outthe trees. They were somewhat more than a bow-shot in advance of thecardinal; but instead of halting till he came up, the king had no soonerascertained who it was, than, despatching a messenger to the castle, whowas seen galloping swiftly down the avenue, he rode off with Anne Boleyntowards the opposite side of the park. Though deeply mortified by theslight, Wolsey concealed his vexation from his brother cardinal, andpursued his way to the castle, before which he presently arrived. Thegate was thrown open at his approach, but he had scarcely enteredthe lower ward when Sir Henry Norris, the king's groom of the stole,advanced to meet him, and, with a sorrowful expression of countenance,said that his royal master had so many guests at the castle, that hecould not accommodate him and his train.
"I understand your drift, sir," replied Wolsey; "you would tell me I amnot welcome. Well, then, his eminence Cardinal Campeggio and myself musttake up our lodging at some hostel in the town, for it is necessary weshould see the king."
"If your grace is content to dismiss your attendants," said Norris in alow tone, "you and Cardinal Campeggio can be lodged in Henry the Third'sTower. Thus much I will take upon me; but I dare not admit you to theroyal lodgings."
Wolsey tried to look unconcerned, and calling to his gentleman usher,George Cavendish, gave him some instructions in a low voice, upon whichthe other immediately placed himself at the head of the retinue, andordered them to quit the castle with him, leaving only the jester,Patch, to attend upon his master. Campeggio's attendants beingcomparatively speaking, few in number, were allowed to remain, andhis litter was conveyed to Henry the Third's Tower--a fortificationstanding, as already stated, in the south side of the lower ward, nearthe edge of the dry moat surrounding the Round Tower. At the steps ofthis tower Wolsey dismounted, and was about to follow Campeggio intothe doorway, when Will Sommers, who had heard of his arrival, steppedforward, and with a salutation of mock formality, said, "I am sure itwill grieve the king, my master, not to be able to accommodate yourgrace's train; but since it is larger than his own, you will scarceblame his want of hospitality."
"Nor the courtesy of his attendants," rejoined Wolsey sharply. "I am inno mood for thy jesting now. Stand aside, sirrah, or I will have the rodapplied to thy back!"
"Take care the king does not apply the rod to your own, lord cardinal,"retorted Will Sommers. "If he scourges you according to your deserts,your skin will be redder than your robe." And his mocking laugh pursuedWolsey like the hiss of a snake into the tower.
Some two hours after this, Henry and his attendants returned from thechase. The king seemed in a blithe humour, and Wolsey saw him laughheartily as Will Sommers pointed with his bauble towards Henry theThird's Tower. The cardinal received no invitation to the royal banquet;and the answer to his solicitation for an interview was, that he andCampeggio would be received in the presence-chamber on the followingmorning, but not before.
That night a great revel was held in the castle. Masquing, dancing,and feasting filled up the evening, and the joyous sounds and strainsreached Wolsey in his seclusion, and forced him to contrast it with hisrecent position, when he would have been second only to the king in theentertainment. He laid his head upon his pillow, but not to rest, andwhile tossing feverishly about his couch, he saw the arras with whichthe walls were covered, move, and a tall, dark figure step from be
hindit. The cardinal would have awakened his jester, who slept in a smalltruckle-bed at his feet, but the strange visitor motioned him to bestill.
"You may conjecture who I am, cardinal," he said, "but in case youshould doubt, I will tell you. I am Herne the Hunter! And now to myerrand. There is a damsel, whom you once saw in the forest near thegreat lake, and whom you promised to befriend. You can assist hernow--to-morrow it may be out of your power."
"I have enough to do to aid myself, without meddling with what concernsme not," said Wolsey.
"This damsel does concern you," cried Herne. "Read this, and you willsee in what way."
And he tossed a letter to Wolsey, who glanced at it by the light of thelamp.
"Ha! is it so?" he exclaimed. "Is she--"
"Hush!" cried Herne, "or you will wake this sleeper. It is as yousuppose. Will you not aid her now? Will you not bestow some of yourtreasure upon her before it is wholly wrested from you by the king? Iwill do aught you wish, secretly and swiftly."
"Go, then, to my palace at Esher," cried the cardinal. "Take this keyto my treasurer--it is the key of my coffers. Bid him deliver to you thesix caskets in the cabinet in the gilt chamber. Here is a token by whichhe will know that you came from me," he added, delivering him a smallchain of gold, "for it has been so agreed between us. But you will besure to give the treasure to Mabel."
"Fear nothing," replied Herne. And stretching forth his hand to receivethe key and the chain, he glided behind the tapestry, and disappeared.
This strange incident gave some diversion to Wolsey's thought; but erelong they returned to their former channel. Sleep would not be summoned,and as soon as the first glimpse of day appeared, he arose, and wrappinghis robe around him, left his room and ascended a winding staircaseleading to the roof of the tower.
The morning promised to be fine, but it was then hazy, and the greaterpart of the forest was wrapped in mist. The castle, however, was seen togreat advantage. Above Wolsey rose the vast fabric of the Round Tower,on the summit of which the broad standard was at that moment beingunfurled; while the different battlements and towers arose majesticallyaround. But Wolsey's gaze rested chiefly upon the exquisite mausoleumlying immediately beneath him; in which he had partly preparedfor himself a magnificent monument. A sharp pang shook him as hecontemplated it, and he cried aloud, "My very tomb will be wrested fromme by this rapacious monarch; and after all my care and all my cost, Iknow not where I shall rest my bones!"
Saddened by the reflection, he descended to his chamber, and again threwhimself on the couch.
But Wolsey was not the only person in the castle who had passed asleepless night. Of the host of his enemies many had been kept awake bythe anticipation of his downfall on the morrow; and among these wasAnne Boleyn, who had received an assurance from the king that her enmityshould at length be fully gratified.
At the appointed hour, the two cardinals, proceeded to the royallodgings. They were detained for some time in the ante-chamber, whereWolsey was exposed to the taunts and sneers of the courtiers, who hadlately so servilely fawned upon him. At length, they were usheredinto the presence chamber, at the upper end of which beneath a canopyemblazoned with the royal arms woven in gold, sat Henry, with AnneBoleyn on his right hand. At the foot of the throne stood Will Sommers,and near him the Dukes of Richmond and Suffolk. Norfolk, Rochford, anda number of other nobles, all open enemies of Wolsey, were also present.Henry watched the advance of the cardinals with a stern look, and afterthey had made an obeisance to him, he motioned them to rise.
"You have sought an interview with me, my lords," he said, withsuppressed rage. "What would you?"
"We have brought an instrument to you, my liege," said Wolsey, "whichhas just been received from his holiness the Pope."
"Declare its nature," said Henry.
"It is a citation," replied Wolsey, "enjoining your high ness to appearby attorney in the papal court, under a penalty of ten thousand ducats."
And he presented a parchment, stamped with the great seal of Rome, tothe king, who glanced his eye fiercely over it, and then dashed it tothe ground, with an explosion of fury terrible to hear and to witness.
"Ha! by Saint George!" he cried; "am I as nothing, that the Pope daresto insult me thus?"
"It is a mere judicial form your majesty," interposed Campeggio, "andis chiefly sent by his holiness to let you know we have no furtherjurisdiction in the matter of the divorce."
"I will take care you have not, nor his holiness either," roared theking. "By my father's head, he shall find I will be no longer trifledwith."
"But, my liege," cried Campeggio.
"Peace!" cried the king. "I will hear no apologies nor excuses. Theinsult has been offered, and cannot be effaced. As for you, Wolsey--"
"Sire!" exclaimed the cardinal, shrinking before the whirlwind ofpassion, which seemed to menace his utter extermination.
"As for you, I say," pursued Henry, extending his hand towards him,while his eyes flashed fire, "who by your outrageous pride have so longovershadowed our honour--who by your insatiate avarice and appetite forwealth have oppressed our subjects--who by your manifold acts of briberyand extortion have impoverished our realm, and by your cruelty andpartiality have subverted the due course of justice and turned it toyour ends--the time is come when you shall receive due punishment foryour offences."
"You wrong me, my dear liege," cried Wolsey abjectly. "These are theaccusations of my enemies. Grant me a patient hearing, and I willexplain all."
"I would not sharpen the king's resentment against you, lord cardinal,"said Anne Boleyn, "for it is keen enough; but I cannot permit you tosay that these charges are merely hostile. Those who would supportthe king's honour and dignity must desire to see you removed from hiscounsels."
"I am ready to take thy place, lord cardinal," said Will Sommers; "andwill exchange my bauble for thy chancellor's mace, and my fool's cap forthy cardinal's hat."
"Peace!" thundered the king. "Stand not between me and the object of mywrath. Your accusers are not one but many, Wolsey; nay, the whole of mypeople cry out for justice against you. And they shall have it. But youshall hear the charges they bring. Firstly, contrary to our prerogative,and for your own advancement and profit, you have obtained authoritylegatine from the Pope; by which authority you have not only spoiled andtaken away their substance from many religious houses, but have usurpedmuch of our own jurisdiction. You have also made a treaty with theKing of France for the Pope without our consent, and concluded anotherfriendly treaty with the Duke of Ferrara, under our great seal, andin our name, without our warrant. And furthermore you have presumed tocouple yourself with our royal self in your letters and instructions, asif you were on an equality with us."
"Ha! ha! 'The king and I would have you do thus!' 'The king and I giveyou our hearty thanks!' Ran it not so, cardinal?" cried Will Sommers."You will soon win the cap and bells."
"In exercise of your legatine authority," pursued the king, "you havegiven away benefices contrary to our crown and dignity, for the whichyou are in danger of forfeiture of your lands and goods."
"A premunire, cardinal," cried Will Sommers. "A premunire!--ha! ha!"
"Then it has been your practice to receive all the ambassadors to ourcourt first at your own palace," continued Henry, "to hear their chargesand intentions, and to instruct them as you might see fit. You have alsoso practised that all our letters sent from beyond sea have first cometo your own hands, by which you have acquainted yourself with theircontents, and compelled us and our council to follow your devices.You have also written to all our ambassadors abroad in your own nameconcerning our affairs, without our authority; and received letters inreturn from them by which you have sought to compass your own purposes.By your ambition and pride you have undone many of our poor subjects;have suppressed religious houses, and received their possessions; haveseized upon the goods of wealthy spiritual men deceased; constrained allordinaries yearly to compound with you; have gotten riches for yourselfand servants
by subversion of the laws, and by abuse of your authorityin causing divers pardons of the Pope to be suspended until you, bypromise of a yearly pension, chose to revive them; and also by craftyand untrue tales have sought to create dissention among our nobles."
"That we can all avouch for," cried Suffolk. "It was never merry inEngland while there were cardinals among us."
"Of all men in England your grace should be the last to say so,"rejoined Wolsey; "for if I had not been cardinal, you would not have hada head upon your shoulders to utter the taunt."
"No more of this!" cried the king. "You have misdemeaned yourself inour court by keeping up as great state in our absence as if we had beenthere in person, and presumptuously have dared to join and imprint yourbadge, the cardinal's hat, under our arms, graven on our coins struck atYork. And lastly, whenever in open Parliament allusion hath been madeto heresies and erroneous sects, you have failed to correct and noticethem, to the danger of the whole body of good and Christian people ofthis our realm."
"This last charge ought to win me favour in the eyes of one whoprofesses the Opinions of Luther," said Wolsey to Anne. "But I deny it,as I do all the rest."
"I will listen to no defence, Wolsey," replied the king. "I willmake you a terrible example to others how they offend us and our lawshereafter."
"Do not condemn me unheard!" cried the cardinal, prostrating himself.
"I have heard too much, and I will hear no more!" cried the kingfiercely. "I dismiss you from my presence for ever. If you are innocent,as you aver, justice will be done you.. If you are guilty, as I believeyou to be, look not for leniency from me, for I will show you none."And, seating himself, he turned to Anne, and said, in a low tone, "Areyou content, sweetheart?"
"I am," she replied. "I shall not now break my vow. False cardinal," sheadded aloud, "your reign is at an end."
"Your own may not be much longer, madam," rejoined Wolsey bitterly. "Theshadow of the axe," he added, pointing to the reflection of a partisanon the floor, "is at your feet. Ere long it may rise to the head."
And, accompanied by Campeggio, he slowly quitted the presence-chamber.
THUS ENDS THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE CHRONICLE OF WINDSOR CASTLE
BOOK V. MABEL LYNDWOOD
Windsor Castle Page 37
