[1058] Sine calamo nunquam ad scriptoris eujusquam librum accessit. M.

Adam. p. 1.

[1059] Omnes omnium opiniones tacito sec.u.m judicio trutinabat. Ibid.

Honours soon came upon him; he was made successively doctor of divinity, professor, university preacher, and examiner. He used to say to the candidates for the ministry: "Christ sendeth his hearers to the Scriptures, and not to the church."[1060]--"But," replied the monks, "they are so difficult."--"Explain the obscure pa.s.sages by those which are clear," rejoined the professor, "Scripture by Scripture. Seek, pray, _and he who has the key of David_ will open them to you." The monks, affrighted at this task, withdrew bursting with anger; and erelong Cranmer's name was a name of dread in every convent. Some, however, submitted to the labour, and one of them, Doctor Barret, blessed G.o.d that the examiner had turned him back; "for," said he, "I found the knowledge of G.o.d in the holy book he compelled me to study."

Cranmer toiled at the same work as Latimer, Stafford, and Bilney.

[1060] Cranmer's Works, p. 17, 18.

[Sidenote: CRANMER'S CHARACTER.]

Fox and Gardiner having renewed acquaintance with their old friend at Waltham Abbey, they sat down to table, and both the almoner and the secretary asked the doctor what he thought of the divorce. It was the usual topic of conversation, and not long before, Cranmer had been named member of a commission appointed to give their opinion on this affair. "You are not in the right path," said Cranmer to his friends; "you should not cling to the decisions of the church. There is a surer and a shorter way which alone can give peace to the king's conscience."--"What is that?" they both asked. "The true question is this," replied Cranmer: "_What says the Word of G.o.d?_ If G.o.d has declared a marriage of this nature _bad_, the pope cannot make it _good_. Discontinue these interminable Roman negotiations. When G.o.d has spoken man must obey."--"But how shall we know what G.o.d has said?"--"Consult the universities; they will discern it more surely than Rome."

This was a new view. The idea of consulting the universities had been acted upon before; but then their own opinions only had been demanded; now, the question was simply to know _what G.o.d says in his word_. "The word of G.o.d is above the church," was the principle laid down by Cranmer, and in that principle consisted the whole of the Reformation. The conversation at the supper-table of Waltham was destined to be one of those secret springs which an invisible Hand sets in motion for the accomplishment of his great designs. The Cambridge doctor, suddenly transported from his study to the foot of the throne, was on the point of becoming one of the princ.i.p.al instruments of Divine wisdom.

The day after this conversation, Fox and Gardiner arrived at Greenwich, and the king summoned them into his presence the same evening. "Well, gentlemen," he said to them, "our holidays are over; what shall we do now? If we still have recourse to Rome, G.o.d knows when we shall see the end of this matter."[1061]--"It will not be necessary to take so long a journey," said Fox; "we know a shorter and surer way."--"What is it?" asked the king eagerly.--"Doctor Cranmer, whom we met yesterday at Waltham, thinks that the Bible should be the sole judge in your cause." Gardiner, vexed at his colleague's frankness, desired to claim all the honour of this luminous idea for himself; but Henry did not listen to him. "Where is Doctor Cranmer?"

said he, much affected.[1062] "Send, and fetch him immediately. Mother of G.o.d! (this was his customary oath) this man has the right sow by the ear.[1063] If this had only been suggested to me two years ago, what expense and trouble I should have been spared."

[1061] G.o.d knows, and not I. Foxe, viii, 7.

[1062] Burnet, vol. i, p. 60.

[1063] Ibid.

Cranmer had gone into Nottinghamshire; a messenger followed and brought him back. "Why have you entangled me in this affair?" he said to Fox and Gardiner. "Pray make my excuses to the king." Gardiner, who wished for nothing better, promised to do all he could; but it was of no use. "I will have no excuses," said Henry. The wily courtier was obliged to make up his mind to introduce the ingenuous and upright man, to whom that station, which he himself had so coveted, was one day to belong. Cranmer and Gardiner went down to Greenwich, both alike dissatisfied.

[Sidenote: CRANMER'S INTERVIEW WITH HENRY.]

Cranmer was then forty years of age, with pleasing features, and mild and winning eyes, in which the candour of his soul seemed to be reflected. Sensible to the pains as well as to the pleasures of the heart, he was destined to be more exposed than other men to anxieties and falls; a peaceful life in some remote parsonage would have been more to his taste than the court of Henry VIII. Blessed with a generous mind, unhappily he did not possess the firmness necessary in a public man; a little stone sufficed to make him stumble. His excellent understanding showed him the better way; but his great timidity made him fear the more dangerous. He was rather too fond of relying upon the power of men, and made them unhappy concessions with too great facility. If the king had questioned him, he would never have dared advise so bold a course as that he had pointed out; the advice had slipped from him at table during the intimacy of familiar conversation. Yet he was sincere, and after doing everything to escape from the consequences of his frankness, he was ready to maintain the opinion he had given.

Henry, perceiving Cranmer's timidity, graciously approached him. "What is your name," said the king endeavouring to put him at his ease? "Did you not meet my secretary and my almoner at Waltham?" And then he added: "Did you not speak to them of my great affair?"--repeating the words ascribed to Cranmer. The latter could not retreat: "Sir, it is true, I did say so."--"I see," replied the king with animation, "that you have found the breach through which we must storm the fortress.

Now, Sir doctor, I beg you, and as you are my subject I command you, to lay aside every other occupation, and to bring my cause to a conclusion in conformity with the ideas you have put forth. All that I desire to know is, whether my marriage is contrary to the laws of G.o.d or not. Employ all your skill in investigating the subject, and thus bring comfort to my conscience as well as to the queen's."[1064]

[1064] For the discharging of both our consciences. Foxe, VIII, p. 8.

Cranmer was confounded; he recoiled from the idea of deciding an affair on which depended, it might be, the destinies of the nation, and sighed after the lonely fields of Aslacton. But grasped by the vigorous hand of Henry, he was compelled to advance. "Sir," said he, "pray intrust this matter to doctors more learned than I am."--"I am very willing," answered the king, "but I desire that you will also give me your opinion in writing." And then summoning the earl of Wiltshire to his presence, he said to him: "My lord, you will receive Doctor Cranmer into your house at Durham Place, and let him have all necessary quiet to compose a report for which I have asked him." After this precise command, which admitted of no refusal, Henry withdrew.

[Sidenote: CRANMER MEETS ANNE BOLEYN.]

In this manner was Cranmer introduced by the king to Anne Boleyn's father, and not, as some Romanist authors have a.s.serted, by Sir Thomas Boleyn to the king.[1065] Wiltshire conducted Cranmer to Durham House (now the Adelphi in the Strand,) and the pious doctor on whom Henry had imposed these quarters, soon contracted a close friendship with Anne and her father, and took advantage of it to teach them the value of the Divine word, as _the pearl of great price_.[1066] Henry, while profiting by the address of a Wolsey and a Gardiner, paid little regard to the men; but he respected Cranmer, even when opposed to him in opinion, and until his death placed the learned doctor above all his courtiers and all his clerks. The pious man often succeeds better, even with the great ones of this world, than the ambitious and the intriguing.

[1065] Sanders, p. 57; Lingard, vol. vi. chap. iii. Compare Foxe, vol.

viii, p. 8.

[1066] Teque n.o.bilis illius margaritae desiderio teneri. Erasm. Epp. p.

1754.

CHAPTER XIII.

Wolsey in the Court of Chancery--Accused by the Dukes--Refuses to give up the Great Seal--His Despair--He gives up the Seal--Order to depart--His Inventory--Alarm--The Scene of Departure--Favourable Message from the King--Wolsey's Joy--His Fool--Arrival at Esher.

While Cranmer was rising notwithstanding his humility, Wolsey was falling in despite of his stratagems. The cardinal still governed the kingdom, gave instructions to amba.s.sadors, negotiated with princes, and filled his sumptuous palaces with his haughtiness. The king could not make up his mind to turn him off; the force of habit, the need he had of him, the recollection of the services Henry had received from him, pleaded in his favour. Wolsey without the seals appeared almost as inconceivable as the king without his crown. Yet the fall of one of the most powerful favourites recorded in history was inevitably approaching, and we must now describe it.

[Sidenote: THE CARDINAL'S LAST SITTING.]

On the 9th of October, after the Michaelmas vacation, Wolsey, desirous of showing a bold face, went and opened the high court of chancery with his accustomed pomp; but he noticed, with uneasiness, that none of the king's servants walked before him, as they had been accustomed to do. He presided on the bench with an inexpressible depression of spirits, and the various members of the court sat before him with an absent air; there was something gloomy and solemn in this sitting, as if all were taking part in a funeral: it was destined indeed to be the last act of the cardinal's power. Some days before (Foxe says on the 1st of October) the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with other lords of the privy-council, had gone down to Windsor, and denounced to the king Wolsey's unconst.i.tutional relations with the pope, his usurpations, "his robberies, and the discords sown by his means between Christian princes."[1067] Such motives would not have sufficed; but Henry had stronger. Wolsey had not kept any of his promises in the matter of the divorce; it would even appear that he had advised the pope to excommunicate the king, and thus raise his people against him.[1068]

This enormity was not at that time known by the prince; it is even probable that it did not take place until later. But Henry knew enough, and he gave his attorney-general, Sir Christopher Hales, orders to prosecute Wolsey.

[1067] Du Bellay to Montmorency, 22nd October. Le Grand, Preuves. p.

377.

[1068] Range, Deutsche Geschichte, iii. p. 140.

Whilst the heart-broken cardinal was displaying his authority for the last time in the court of chancery, the attorney-general was accusing him in the King's Bench for having obtained papal bulls conferring on him a jurisdiction which encroached on the royal power; and calling for the application of the penalties of _praemunire_. The two dukes received orders to demand the seals from Wolsey; and the latter, informed of what had taken place, did not quit his palace on the 10th, expecting every moment the arrival of the messengers of the king's anger; but no one appeared.

The next day the two dukes arrived: "It is the king's good pleasure,"

said they to the cardinal, who remained seated in his arm-chair, "that you give up the broad seal to us and retire to Esher" (a country-seat near Hampton Court.) Wolsey, whose presence of mind never failed him, demanded to see the commission under which they were acting. "We have our orders from his majesty's mouth," said they.--"That may be sufficient for you," replied the cardinal, "but not for me. The great seal of England was delivered to me by the hands of my sovereign; I may not deliver it at the simple word of any lord, unless you can show me your commission." Suffolk broke out into a pa.s.sion, but Wolsey remained calm, and the two dukes returned to Windsor. This was the cardinal's last triumph.

[Sidenote: HE GIVES UP THE GREAT SEAL.]

The rumour of his disgrace created an immense sensation at court, in the city, and among the foreign amba.s.sadors. Du Bellay hastened to York Place (Whitehall) to contemplate this great ruin and console his unhappy friend. He found Wolsey, with dejected countenance and l.u.s.treless eyes, "shrunk to half his wonted size," wrote the amba.s.sador to Montmorency, "the greatest example of fortune which was ever beheld." Wolsey desired "to set forth his case" to him; but his thoughts were confused, his language broken, "for heart and tongue both failed him entirely;" he burst into tears. The amba.s.sador regarded him with compa.s.sion: "Alas!" thought he, "his enemies cannot but feel pity for him." At last the unhappy cardinal recovered his speech, but only to give way to despair. "I desire no more authority,"

he exclaimed, "nor the pope's legation, nor the broad seal of England.... I am ready to give up every thing, even to my shirt.[1069]... I can live in a hermitage, provided the king does not hold me in disgrace." The amba.s.sador "did all he could to comfort him," when Wolsey, catching at the plank thrown out to him, exclaimed: "Would that the king of France and madame might pray the king to moderate his anger against me. But above all," he added in alarm, "take care the king never knows that I have solicited this of you." Du Bellay wrote indeed to France, that the king and madame alone could "withdraw their affectionate servant from the gates of h.e.l.l," and Wolsey being informed of these despatches, his hopes recovered a little. But this bright gleam did not last long.

[1069] Du Bellay to Montmorency. Le Grand, Preuves, p. 371.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY'S LAST HOPES.]

On Sunday the 17th of October, Norfolk and Suffolk re-appeared at Whitehall, accompanied by Fitzwilliam, Taylor, and Gardiner, Wolsey's former dependant. It was six in the evening; they found the cardinal in an upper chamber, near the great gallery, and presented the king's orders to him. Having read them he said: "I am happy to obey his majesty's commands;" then having ordered the great seal to be brought him, he took it out of the white leather case in which he kept it, and handed it to the dukes, who placed it in a box, covered with crimson velvet, and ornamented with the arms of England,[1070] ordered Gardiner to seal it up with red wax, and gave it to Taylor to convey to the king.

Wolsey was thunderstruck; he was to drink the bitter cup even to the dregs: he was ordered to leave his palace forthwith, taking with him neither clothes, linen, nor plate; the dukes had feared that he would convey away his treasures. Wolsey comprehended the greatness of his misery; he found strength however to say: "Since it is the kings' good pleasure to take my house and all it contains, I am content to retire to Esher." The dukes left him.

[1070] In quadam theca de veluto crimisino. Rymer, Act. p. 138.

Wolsey remained alone. This astonishing man, who had risen from a butcher's shop to the summit of earthly greatness--who, for a word that displeased him, sent his master's most faithful servants (Pace for instance) to the Tower--and who had governed England as if he had been its monarch, and even more, for he had governed without a parliament: was driven out, and thrown, as it were, upon a dunghill. A sudden hope flashed like lightning through his mind; perhaps the magnificence of the spoils would appease Henry. Was not Esau pacified by Jacob's present? Wolsey summoned his officers: "Set tables in the great gallery," he said to them, "and place on them all I have entrusted to your care, in order to render me an account." These orders were executed immediately. The tables were covered with an immense quant.i.ty of rich stuffs, silks and velvets of all colours, costly furs, rich copes and other ecclesiastical vestures; the walls were hung with cloth of gold and silver, and webs of a valuable stuff named baudykin,[1071] from the looms of Damascus, and with tapestry, representing scriptural subjects or stories from the old romances of chivalry. The gilt chamber and the council chamber, adjoining the gallery, were both filled with plate, in which the gold and silver were set with pearls and precious stones: these articles of luxury were so abundant that basketfulls of costly plate, which had fallen out of fashion were stowed away under the tables. On every table was an exact list of the treasures with which it was loaded, for the most perfect order and regularity prevailed in the cardinal's household.

Wolsey cast a glance of hope upon this wealth, and ordered his officers to deliver the whole to his majesty.

[1071] Baldekinum, pannus omnium ditissimus cujus utpote stamen ex filo auri, subtegmen ex serico texitur, plumario opere intertextus.

(Ducange's Glossary.) Baudskin, the richest of all kinds of cloth, inasmuch as its warp is of gold thread, the woof of silk, and the whole interwoven with rich embroidery.

[Sidenote: WOLSEY LEAVES WHITEHALL.]

He then prepared to leave his magnificent palace. That moment of itself so sad, was made sadder still by an act of affectionate indiscretion. "Ah, my lord," said his treasurer, Sir William Gascoigne, moved even to tears, "your grace will be sent to the Tower." This was too much for Wolsey: to go and join his victims!...

He grew angry, and exclaimed: "Is this the best comfort you can give your master in adversity? I would have you and all such blasphemous reporters know that it is untrue."