History of the Reformation in the Sixteenth Century Volume V Part 46

"H. T."

Anne, having retired in May to Hever castle, her father's residence, the king wrote to her as follows:--

"My Mistress and my Friend,

"My heart and I surrender ourselves into your hands, and we supplicate to be commended to your good graces, and that by absence your affections may not be diminished to us. For that would be to augment our pain, which would be a great pity, since absence gives enough, and more than I ever thought could be felt. This brings to my mind a fact in astronomy, which is, that the longer the days are, the farther off is the sun, and yet the more scorching is his heat. Thus is it with our love; absence has placed distance between us, nevertheless fervour increases, at least on my part. I hope the same from you, a.s.suring you that in my case the anguish of absence is so great that it would be intolerable were it not for the firm hope I have of your indissoluble affection towards me. In order to remind you of it, and because I cannot in person be in your presence, I send you the thing which comes nearest that is possible, that is to say, my picture, and the whole device, which you already know of,[817] set in bracelets; wis.h.i.+ng myself in their place when it pleases you. This is from the hand of "Your Servant and Friend,

"H. T. REX."

[817] Doubtless the _aut illic aut nullibi_. For this letter see the Pamphleteer, No. 42, p. 346.

[Sidenote: ANNE GIVES HER CONSENT.]

Pressed by her father, her uncles, and by Henry, Anne's firmness was shaken. That crown, rejected by Renee and by Margaret, dazzled the young Englishwoman; every day she found some new charm in it; and gradually familiarizing herself with her new future, she said at last: "If the king becomes free, I shall be willing to marry him." This was a great fault; but Henry was at the height of joy.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY STRIVES TO DISSUADE HENRY.]

The courtiers watched with observant eyes these developments of the king's affection, and were already preparing the homage which they proposed to lay at Anne Boleyn's feet. But there was one man at court whom Henry's resolution filled with sorrow; this was Wolsey. He had been the first to suggest to the king the idea of separating from Catherine; but if Anne is to succeed her, there must be no divorce. He had first alienated Catherine's party; he was now going to irritate that of the Boleyns; accordingly he began to fear that whatever might be the issue of this affair, it would cause his ruin. He took frequent walks in his park at Hampton Court, accompanied by the French amba.s.sador, the confidant of his sorrows: "I would willingly lose one of my fingers," he said, "if I could only have two hours' conversation with the king of France." At another time, fancying all England was pursuing him, he said with alarm, "The king my master and all his subjects will cry murder against me; they will fall upon me more fiercely than on a Turk, and all Christendom will rise against me!"

The next day Wolsey, to gain the French amba.s.sador, gave him a long history of what he had done for France _against the wishes of all England_: "I need much dexterity in my affairs," he added, "and must use a terrible _alchymy_."[818] But alchymy could not save him.

Rarely has so much anguish been veiled beneath such grandeur. Du Bellay was moved with pity at the sight of the unhappy man's sufferings. "When he gives way," he wrote to Montmorency, "it lasts a day together;--he is continually sighing.--You have never seen a man in such anguish of mind."[819]

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

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

In truth Wolsey's reason was tottering. That fatal idea of the divorce was the cause of all his woes, and to be able to recall it, he would have given, not a _finger_ only, but an arm, and perhaps more. It was too late; Henry had started his car down the steep, and whoever attempted to stop it would have been crushed beneath its wheels.

However, the cardinal tried to obtain something. Francis I had intercepted a letter from Charles V in which the emperor spoke of the divorce as likely to raise the English nation in revolt. Wolsey caused this letter to be read to the king, in the hope that it would excite his serious apprehensions; but Henry only _frowned_, and Du Bellay, to whom the monarch ascribed the report on these troubles foreboded by Charles, received "a gentle lash."[820] This was the sole-result of the manuvre.

[820] _Quelque pet.i.t coup de fouet._ 24th May, 1528. Du Bellay to Montmorency. Ibid. p. 102.

Wolsey now resolved to broach this important subject in a straightforward manner. The step might prove his ruin; but if he succeeded he was saved and the popedom with him. Accordingly one day (shortly before the sweating sickness broke out, says Du Bellay, probably in June 1528) Wolsey openly prayed the king to renounce his design; his own reputation, he told him, the prosperity of England, the peace of Europe, the safety of the church,--all required it; besides the pope would never grant the divorce. While the cardinal was speaking, Henry's face grew black; and before he had concluded the king's anger broke out. "The king used terrible words," said Du Bellay. He would have given a thousand Wolseys for one Anne Boleyn.

"No other than G.o.d shall take her from me," was his most decided resolution.

Wolsey, now no longer doubting of his disgrace, began to take his measures accordingly. He commenced building in several places, in order to win the affections of the common people; he took great care of his bishoprics, in order that they might ensure him an easy retreat; he was affable to the courtiers; and thus covered the earth with flowers to deaden his fall. Then he would sigh as if he were disgusted with honours; and would celebrate the charms of solitude.[821] He did more than this. Seeing plainly that the best way of recovering the king's favour would be to conciliate Anne Boleyn, he made her the most handsome presents,[822] and a.s.sured her that all his efforts would now be directed to raise her to the throne of England. Anne believing these declarations replied, that she would help him in her turn, "As long as any breath was in her body."[823]

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

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

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

[823] Ibid.

[Sidenote: THE SWEATING SICKNESS.]

Thus were all parties restless and uneasy--Henry desiring to marry Lady Anne, the courtiers to get rid of Wolsey, and the latter to remain in power--when a serious event appeared to put every one in harmony with his neighbour. About the middle of June, the terrible sweating sickness (_sudor anglicus_) broke out in England. The citizens of London, "thick as flies," said Du Bellay,[824] suddenly feeling pains in the head and heart, rushed from the streets or shops to their chambers, began to sweat, and took to their beds. The disease made frightful and rapid progress, a burning heat preyed on their limbs; if they chanced to uncover themselves, the perspiration ceased, delirium came on, and in four hours the victim was dead and "stiff as a wall,"[825] says the French amba.s.sador. Every family was in mourning. Sir Thomas More, kneeling by his daughter's bedside, burst into tears, and called upon G.o.d to save his beloved Margaret.[826]

Wolsey, who was at Hampton Court, suspecting nothing amiss, arrived in London as usual to preside in the court of Chancery; but he ordered his horses to be saddled again immediately and rode back. In four days, 2000 persons died in London.

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

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

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

[Sidenote: HENRY'S TERROR.]

The court was at first safe from the contagion; but on the fourth day one of Anne Boleyn's ladies was attacked; it was as if a thunderbolt had fallen on the palace. The king removed with all haste, and staid at a place twelve miles off, for he was not prepared to die. He ordered Anne to return to her father, invited the queen to join him, and took up his residence at Waltham. His real conscience awoke only in the presence of death. Four of his attendants and a friar, Anne's confessor, as it would appear,[827] falling ill, the king departed for Hunsdon. He had been there two days only when Powis, Carew, Carton, and others of his court, were carried off in two or three hours. Henry had met an enemy whom he could not vanquish. He quitted the place attacked by the disease; he removed to another quarter; and when the sickness laid hold of any of his attendants in his new retreat, he again left that for a new asylum. Terror froze his blood; he wandered about pursued by that terrible scythe whose sweep might perhaps reach him; he cut off all communication, even with his servants; shut himself up in a room at the top of an isolated tower; ate all alone, and would see no one but his physician;[828] he prayed, fasted, confessed, became reconciled with the queen; took the sacrament every Sunday and feast day; received _his Maker_,[829] to use the words of a gentleman of his chamber; and the queen and Wolsey did the same. Nor was that all: his councillor, Sir Brian Tuke, was sick in Ess.e.x; but that mattered not; the king ordered him to come to him, even in his litter; and on the 20th of June, Henry after hearing three ma.s.ses (he had never done so much before in one day) said to Tuke: "I want you to write _my will_." He was not the only one who took that precaution.

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

[827] Votre pere maitre Jesonere est tombe malade. Henry to Anne.

Pamphleteer. No. 42, p. 347.

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

State Papers, vol. i, p. 296.

[829] Ibid. p. 290.

During this time, Anne in her retirement at Hever was calm and collected; she prayed much, particularly for the king and for Wolsey.[830] But Henry, far less submissive, was very anxious. "The uneasiness my doubts about your health gave me," he wrote to her, "disturbed and frightened me exceedingly; but now, since you have as yet felt nothing, I hope it is with you as it is with us.... I beg you, my entirely beloved, not to frighten yourself, or be too uneasy at our absence, for wherever I am, I am yours. And yet we must sometimes submit to our misfortunes, for whoever will struggle against fate, is generally but so much the farther from gaining his end.

Wherefore, comfort yourself and take courage, and make this misfortune as easy to you as you can."[831]

[830] I thank our Lord that them that I desired and prayed for are escaped, and that is the king's grace and you. Anne to Wolsey.

Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 150.

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

As he received no news, Henry's uneasiness increased; he sent to Anne a messenger and a letter: "to acquit myself of the duty of a true servant, I send you this letter, beseeching you to apprize me of your welfare, which I pray may continue as long as I desire mine own."

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S TERRORS.]

Henry's fears were well founded; the malady became more severe; in four hours eighteen persons died at the archbishop of Canterbury's; Anne Boleyn herself and her brother also caught the infection. The king was exceedingly agitated; Anne alone appeared calm; the strength of her character raised her above exaggerated fears; but her enemies ascribed her calmness to other motives. "Her ambition is stronger than death," they said. "The king, queen, and cardinal tremble for their lives, but she ... she would die content if she died a queen." Henry once more changed his residence. All the gentlemen of his privy-chamber were attacked with one exception; "he remained alone, keeping himself apart," says Du Bellay, and confessed every day. He wrote again to Anne, sending her his physician, Dr. b.u.t.ts:[832] "The most displeasing news that could occur came to me suddenly at night.

On three accounts I must lament it. One, to hear of the illness of my mistress, whom I esteem more than all the world, and whose health I desire as I do my own. I would willingly bear half of what you suffer to cure you. The second, from the fear that I shall have to endure my wearisome absence much longer, which has. .h.i.therto given me all the vexation that was possible; and when gloomy thoughts filled my mind, then I pray G.o.d to remove far from me such troublesome and rebellious ideas. The third, because my physician, in whom I have most confidence, is absent. Yet, from the want of him, I send you my second, and hope that he will soon make you well. I shall then love him more than ever. I beseech you to be guided by his advice in your illness. By your doing this, I hope soon to see you again, which will be to me a greater comfort than all the precious jewels in the world."

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

The pestilence soon broke out with more violence around Henry; he fled in alarm to Hatfield, taking with him only the gentleman of his chamber; he next quitted this place for t.i.ttenhanger, a house belonging to Wolsey, whence he commanded general processions throughout the kingdom in order to avert this scourge of G.o.d.[833] At the same time he wrote to Wolsey: "As soon as any one falls ill in the place where you are, fly to another; and go thus from place to place."

The poor cardinal was still more alarmed than Henry. As soon as he felt the slightest perspiration, he fancied himself a dead man. "I entreat your highness," he wrote trembling to the king on the 5th of July, "to show yourself full of pity for my soul; these are perhaps the last words I shall address to you ... the whole world will see by my last testament that you have not bestowed your favour upon an ungrateful man." The king, perceiving that Wolsey's mind was affected, bade him "put apart fear and fantasies,"[834] and wear a cheerful humour in the midst of death.

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

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

[Sidenote: DISSIMULATION AT COURT.]

At last the sickness began to diminish, and immediately the desire to see Anne revived in Henry's bosom. On the 18th of August she re-appeared at court, and all the king's thoughts were now bent on the divorce.

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

There was no news of Campeggio; was he lost in the Alps or at sea? Did his gout detain him in some village, or was the announcement of his departure only a feint? Anne Boleyn herself was uneasy, for she attached great importance to Campeggio's coming. If the church annulled the king's first marriage, Anne seeing the princ.i.p.al obstacle removed, thought she might accept Henry's hand. She therefore wrote to Wolsey: "I long to hear from you news of the legate, for I do hope (an' they come from you) they shall be very good." The king added in a postscript: "The not hearing of the legate's arrival in France causeth us somewhat to muse. Notwithstanding we trust by your diligence and vigilancy (with the a.s.sistance of Almighty G.o.d) shortly to be eased out of that trouble."[835]

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