The History Of England From The Invasion Of Julius Cæsar To The End Of The Reign Of James The Second, (Part from Henry the 7th to Mary)

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Vol.I., Part C., by David Hume
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Title: The History of England in Three Volumes, Vol.I., Part C.
From Henry VII. to Mary
Author: David Hume
Release Date: September 8, 2006 [EBook #19213]
Last Updated: September 1, 2016
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THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND
FROM THE INVASION OF JULIUS CÆSAR
TO THE END OF THE REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND,
BY DAVID HUME, ESQ.
1688
London: James S. Virtue, City Road and Ivy Lane
New York: 26 John Street
1860
And
Philadelphia:
J. B. Lippincott & Co.
March 17, 1901
In Three Volumes:
VOLUME ONE: The History Of England From The Invasion Of Julius Cæsar To
The End Of The Reign Of James The Second............ By David Hume, Esq.
VOLUME TWO: Continued from the Reign of William and Mary to the Death of
George II........................................... by Tobias Smollett.
VOLUME THREE: From the Accession of George III. to the Twenty-Third Year
of the Reign of Queen Victoria............... by E. Farr and E.H. Nolan.
VOLUME ONE
Part C.
HENRY VII. TO MARY
CHAPTER XXIV.
[Illustration: 1-309-henry7.jpg HENRY VII.]
HENRY VII.
{1485.} THE victory which the earl of Richmond gained at Bosworth was
entirely decisive; being attended, as well with the total rout and
dispersion of the royal army, as with the death of the king himself. Joy
for this great success suddenly prompted the soldiers, in the field of
battle, to bestow on their victorious general the appellation of king,
which he had not hitherto assumed; and the acclamations of “Long live
Henry VII.,” by a natural and unpremeditated movement, resounded from
all quarters. To bestow some appearance of formality on this species
of military election, Sir William Stanley brought a crown of ornament,
which Richard wore in battle, and which had been found among the spoils;
and he put it on the head of the victor. Henry himself remained not
in suspense; but immediately, without hesitation, accepted of the
magnificent present which was tendered him. He was come to the crisis
of his fortune; and being obliged suddenly to determine himself, amidst
great difficulties which he must have frequently revolved in his mind,
he chose that part which his ambition suggested to him, and to which he
seemed to be invited by his present success.
There were many titles on which Henry could found his right to the
crown; but no one of them free from great objections, if considered with
respect either to justice or to policy.
During some years, Henry had been regarded as heir to the house of
Lancaster by the party attached to that family; but the title of the
house of Lancaster itself was generally thought to be very ill founded.
Henry IV., who had first raised it to royal dignity, had never clearly
defined the foundation of his claim; and while he plainly invaded the
order of succession, he had not acknowledged the election of the people.
The parliament, it is true, had often recognized the title of the
Lancastrian princes; but these votes had little authority, being
considered as instances of complaisance towards a family in possession
of present power; and they had accordingly been often reversed during
the late prevalence of the house of York. Prudent men also, who had been
willing for the sake of peace to submit to any established authority,
desired not to see the claims of that family revived; claims which must
produce many convulsions at present, and which disjointed for the future
the whole system of hereditary right. Besides, allowing the title of the
house of Lancaster to be legal, Henry himself was not the true heir of
that family; and nothing but the obstinacy natural to faction, which
never without reluctance will submit to an antagonist, could have
engaged the Lancastrians to adopt the earl of Richmond as their head.
His mother indeed, Margaret, countess of Richmond, was sole daughter
and heir of the duke of Somerset, sprung from John of Gaunt, duke of
Lancaster: but the descent of the Somerset line was itself illegitimate,
and even adulterous. And though the duke of Lancaster had obtained
the legitimation of his natural children by a patent from Richard II.,
confirmed in parliament, it might justly be doubted whether this deed
could bestow any title to the crown: since in the patent itself all the
privileges conferred by it are fully enumerated, and the succession to
the kingdom is expressly excluded.[*] In all settlements of the crown
made during the reigns of the Lancastrian princes, the line of Somerset
had been entirely overlooked; and it was not till the failure of the
legitimate branch, that men had paid any attention to their claim. And
to add to the general dissatisfaction against Henry’s title, his mother,
from whom he derived all his right was still alive; and evidently
preceded him in the order of succession.
* Rymer, tom. vii. p. 849. Coke’s Inst. iv. Inst. part i. p.
37.
His title of the house of York, both from the plain reason of the case,
and from the late popular government of Edward IV., had universally
obtained the preference in the sentiments of the people; and Henry might
ingraft his claim on the rights of that family, by his intended marriage
with the princess Elizabeth, the heir of it; a marriage which he had
solemnly promised to celebrate, and to the expectation of which he had
chiefly owed all his past successes. But many reasons dissuaded Henry
from adopting this expedient. Were he to receive the crown only in right
of his consort, his power, he knew, would be very limited; and he must
expect rather to enjoy the bare title of king by a sort of courtesy,
than possess the real authority which belongs to it. Should the princess
die before him without issue, he must descend from the throne, and give
place to the next in succession; and even if his bed should be blest
with offspring, it seemed dangerous to expect that filial piety in his
children would prevail over the ambition of obtaining present possession
of regal power. An act of parliament, indeed, might easily be procured
to settle the crown on him during life; but Henry knew how much superior
the claim of succession by blood was to the authority of an assembly,[*]
which had always been overborne by violence in the shock of contending
titles, and which had ever been more governed by the conjunctures of the
times, than by any consideration derived from reason or public interest.
There was yet a third foundation on which Henry might rest his claim,
the right of conquest, by his victory over Richard, the present
possessor of the crown. But besides that Richard himself was deemed
no better than a usurper, the army which fought against him consisted
chiefly of Englishmen; and a right of conquest over England could
never be established by such a victory. Nothing also would give greater
umbrage to the nation than a claim of this nature; which might be
construed as an abolition of all their rights and privileges, and the
establishment of absolute authority in the sovereign.[**]
*Bacon in Kennet’s Complete History, p. 579.
**Bacon, p. 579.
William himself, the Norman, though at the head of a powerful and
victorious army of foreigners, had at first declined the invidious
title of Conqueror; and it was not till the full establishment of his
authority, that he had ventured to advance so violent and destructive a
pretension.
But Henry was sensible that there remained another foundation of power,
somewhat resembling the right of conquest, namely, present possession;
and that this title, guarded by vigor and abilities, would be sufficient
to secure perpetual possession of the throne. He had before him the
example of Henry IV., who, supported by no better pretension, had
subdued many insurrections, and had been able to transmit the crown
peaceably to his posterity. He could perceive that this claim, which had
been perpetuated through three generations of the family of Lancaster,
might still have subsisted, notwithstanding the preferable title of the
house of York, had not the sceptre devolved into the hands of Henry
VI., which were too feeble to sustain it. Instructed by this recent
experience, Henry was determined to put himself in possession of regal
authority, and to show all opponents, that nothing but force of arms and
a successful war should be able to expel him. His claim as heir to the
house of Lancaster he was resolved to advance, and never allow it to
be discussed; and he hoped that this right, favored by the partisans of
that family, and seconded by present power, would secure him a perpetual
and an independent authority.
These views of Henry are not exposed to much blame; because founded on
good policy, and even on a species of necessity; but there entered into
all his measures and counsels another motive, which admits not of the
same apology. The violent contentions which, during so long a period,
had been maintained between the rival families, and the many sanguinary
revenges which they had alternately taken on each other, had inflamed
the opposite factions to a high pitch of animosity, Henry himself, who
had seen most of his near friends and relations perish in battle or
by the executioner, and who had been exposed in his own person to many
hardships and dangers, had imbibed a violent antipathy to the York
party, which no time or experience were ever able to efface. Instead
of embracing the present happy opportunity of abolishing these fatal
distinctions, of uniting his title with that of his consort, and of
bestowing favor indiscriminately on the friends of both families, he
carried to the throne all the partialities which belong to the head of
a faction, and even the passions which are carefully guarded against by
every true politician in that situation. To exalt the Lancastrian party,
to depress the adherents of the house of York, were still the favorite
objects of his pursuit; and through the whole course of his reign, he
never forgot these early prepossessions. Incapable from his natural
temper of a more enlarged and more benevolent system of policy, he
exposed himself to many present inconveniences, by too anxiously
guarding against that future possible event, which might disjoin his
title from that of the princess whom he espoused. And while he treated
the Yorkists as enemies, he soon rendered them such, and taught them to
discuss that right to the crown, which he so carefully kept separate,
and to perceive its weakness and invalidity.
To these passions of Henry, as well as to his suspicious politics, we
are to ascribe the measures which he embraced two days after the battle
of Bosworth. Edward Plantagenet, earl of Warwick, son of the duke of
Clarence, was detained in a kind of confinement at Sherif-Hutton, in
Yorkshire, by the jealousy of his uncle Richard, whose title to the
throne was inferior to that of the young prince. Warwick had now reason
to expect better treatment, as he was no obstacle to the succession
either of Henry or Elizabeth; and from a youth of such tender years no
danger could reasonably be apprehended. But Sir Robert Willoughby was
despatched by Henry with orders to take him from Sherif-Hutton, to
convey him to the Tower, and to detain him in close custody.[*] The same
messenger carried directions, that the princess Elizabeth, who had been
confined to the same place, should be conducted to London, in order to
meet Henry, and there celebrate her nuptials.
Henry himself set out for the capital, and advanced by slow journeys.
Not to rouse the jealousy of the people, he took care to avoid all
appearance of military triumph; and so to restrain the insolence
of victory, that every thing about him bore the appearance of an
established monarch, making a peaceable progress through his dominions,
rather than of a prince who had opened his way to the throne by force of
arms. The acclamations of the people were every where loud, and no less
sincere and hearty. Besides that a young and victorious prince, on his
accession, was naturally the object of popularity, the nation promised
themselves great felicity from the new scene which opened before them.
* Bacon, p. 579. Polyd. Virg. p. 565.
During the course of near a whole century, the kingdom had been laid
waste by domestic wars and convulsions; and if at any time the noise of
arms had ceased, the sound of faction and discontent still threatened
new disorders. Henry, by his marriage with Elizabeth, seemed to insure a
union of the contending titles of the two families; and having prevailed
over a hated tyrant, who had anew disjointed the succession even of the
house of York, and had filled his own family with blood and murder,
he was every where attended with the unfeigned favor of the people.
Numerous and splendid troops of gentry and nobility accompanied
his progress. The mayor and companies of London received him as he
approached the city; the crowds of people and citizens were zealous
in their expressions of satisfaction. But Henry, amidst this general
effusion of joy, discovered still the stateliness and reserve of his
temper, which made him scorn to court popularity: he entered London in
a close chariot, and would not gratify the people with a sight of their
new sovereign.
But the king did not so much neglect the favor of the people, as
to delay giving them assurances of his marriage with the princess
Elizabeth, which he knew to be so passionately desired by the nation.
On his leaving Brittany, he had artfully dropped some hints that, if he
should succeed in his enterprise, and obtain the crown of England,
he would espouse Anne, the heir of that duchy; and the report of this
engagement had already reached England, and had begotten anxiety in
the people, and even in Elizabeth herself. Henry took care to dissipate
these apprehensions, by solemnly renewing, before the council and
principal nobility, the promise which he had already given to celebrate
his nuptials with the English princess. But though bound by honor,
as well as by interest, to complete this alliance, he was resolved to
postpone it till the ceremony of his own coronation should be finished,
and till his title should be recognized by parliament. Still anxious to
support his personal and hereditary right to the throne, he dreaded lest
a preceding marriage with the princess should imply a participation of
sovereignty in her, and raise doubts of his own title by the house of
Lancaster.
There raged at that time in London, and other parts of the kingdom,
a species of malady unknown to any other age or nation, the sweating
sickness, which occasioned the sudden death of great multitudes; though
it seemed not to be propagated by any contagious infection, but arose
from the general disposition of the air and of the human body. In less
than twenty-four hours the patient commonly died or recovered, but when
the pestilence had exerted its fury for a few weeks, it was observed,
either from alterations in the air, or from a more proper regimen which
had been discovered, to be considerably abated.[*] Preparations were
then made for the ceremony of Henry’s coronation. In order to heighten
the splendor of that spectacle, he bestowed the rank of knight banneret
on twelve persons; and he conferred peerages on three. Jasper, earl of
Pembroke, his uncle, was created duke of Bedford; Thomas Lord Stanley,
his father-in-law, earl of Derby; and Edward Courtney, earl of
Devonshire. At the coronation, likewise, there appeared a new
institution, which the king had established for security as well as
pomp, a band of fifty archers, who were termed yeomen of the guard. But
lest the people should take umbrage at this unusual symptom of jealousy
in the prince, as if it implied a personal diffidence of his subjects,
he declared the institution to be perpetual. The ceremony of coronation
was performed by Cardinal Bourchier, archbishop of Canterbury.
The parliament being assembled at Westminster, the majority immediately
appeared to be devoted partisans of Henry; all persons of another
disposition either declining to stand in those dangerous times, or being
obliged to dissemble their principles and inclinations. The Lancastrian
party had every where been successful in the elections; and even many
had been returned who, during the prevalence of the house of York, had
been exposed to the rigor of law, and had been condemned by sentence
of attainder and outlawry. Their right to take seats in the house being
questioned, the case was referred to all the judges, who assembled in
the exchequer chamber, in order to deliberate on so delicate a subject.
The opinion delivered was prudent, and contained a just temperament
between law and expediency.[**] The judges determined, that the members
attainted should forbear taking their seat till an act were passed for
the reversal of their attainder. There was no difficulty in obtaining
this act; and in it were comprehended a hundred and seven persons of the
king’s party.[***]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 567.
** Bacon, p. 661.
*** Rot. Parl. 1 Henry VII. n. 2, 3, 4-15, 17, 26-65.
But a scruple was started of a nature still more important. The king
himself had been attainted; and his right of succession to the crown
might thence be exposed to some doubt The judges extricated themselves
from this dangerous question by asserting it as a maxim, “That the crown
takes away all defects and stops in blood; and that from the time
the king assumed royal authority, the fountain was cleared, and all
attainders and corruptions of blood discharged.” [*] Besides that the
case, from its urgent necessity, admitted of no deliberation, the judges
probably thought that no sentence of a court of judicature had authority
sufficient to bar the right of succession; that the heir of the crown
was commonly exposed to such jealousy as might often occasion stretches
of law and justice against him; and that a prince might even be engaged
in unjustifiable measures during his predecessor’s reign, without
meriting on that account to be excluded from the throne, which was his
birthright.
With a parliament so obsequious, the king could not fail of obtaining
whatever act of settlement he was pleased to require. He seems only to
have entertained some doubt within himself on what claim he should found
his pretensions. In his speech to the parliament, he mentioned his just
title by hereditary right: but lest that title should not be esteemed
sufficient, he subjoined his claim by the judgment of God, who had given
him victory over his enemies. And again, lest this pretension should be
interpreted as assuming a right of conquest, he insured to his subjects
the full enjoyment of their former properties and possessions.
The entail of the crown was drawn according to the sense of the king,
and probably in words dictated by him. He made no mention in it of
the princess Elizabeth, nor of any branch of her family: but in other
respects the act was compiled with sufficient reserve and moderation.
He did not insist that it should contain a declaration or recognition of
his preceding right; as, on the other hand, he avoided the appearance of
a new law or ordinance. He chose a middle course which, as is generally
unavoidable in such cases, was not entirely free from uncertainty and
obscurity. It was voted, “That the inheritance of the crown should rest,
remain, and abide in the king:” [**] but whether as rightful heir, or
only as present possessor, was not determined.
* Bacon, p. 581.
** Bacon, p. 581.
In like manner, Henry was contented that the succession should be
secured to the heirs of his body; but he pretended not, in case of their
failure, to exclude the house of York or to give the preference to that
of Lancaster: he left that great point ambiguous for the present, and
trusted that, if it should ever become requisite to determine it, future
incidents would open the way for the decision.
But even after all these precautions, the king was so little satisfied
with his own title, that in the following year, he applied to papal
authority for a confirmation of it; and as the court of Rome gladly laid
hold of all opportunities which the imprudence, weakness, or necessities
of princes afforded it to extend its influence, Innocent VIII., the
reigning pope, readily granted a bull, in whatever terms the king
was pleased to desire. All Henry’s titles, by succession, marriage,
parliamentary choice, even conquest, are there enumerated; and to the
whole the sanction of religion is added; excommunication is denounced
against every one who should either disturb him in the present
possession, or the heirs of his body in the future succession of the
crown; and from this penalty no criminal, except in the article of
death, could be absolved but by the pope himself, or his special
commissioners. It is difficult to imagine that the security derived from
this bull could be a compensation for the defect which it betrayed in
Henry’s title, and for the danger of thus inviting the pope to interpose
in these concerns.
It was natural, and even laudable in Henry to reverse the attainders
which had passed against the partisans of the house of Lancaster:
but the revenges which he exercised against the adherents of the York
family, to which he was so soon to be allied, cannot be considered in
the same light. Yet the parliament, at his instigation, passed an act
of attainder against the late king himself, against the duke of Norfolk,
the earl of Surrey, Viscount Lovel, the lords Zouche and Ferrars of
Chartley, Sir Walter and Sir James Harrington, Sir William Berkeley,
Sir Humphrey Stafford, Catesby, and about twenty other gentlemen who
had fought on Richard’s side in the battle of Bosworth. How men could be
guilty of treason by supporting the king in possession against the
earl of Richmond, who assumed not the title of king, it is not easy to
conceive; and nothing but a servile complaisance in the parliament could
have engaged them to make this stretch of justice. Nor was it a small
mortification to the people in general, to find that the king, prompted
either by avarice or resentment could, in the very beginning of his
reign, so far violate the cordial union which had previously been
concerted between the parties, and to the expectation of which he had
plainly owed his succession to the throne.
The king, having gained so many points of consequence from the
parliament, thought it not expedient to demand any supply from them,
which the profound peace enjoyed by the nation, and the late forfeiture
of Richard’s adherents, seemed to render somewhat superfluous. The
parliament, however, conferred on him during life the duty of tonnage
and poundage, which had been enjoyed in the same manner by some of his
immediate predecessors; and they added, before they broke up, other
money bills of no great moment. The king, on his part, made returns
of grace and favor to his people. He published his royal proclamation,
offering pardon to all such as had taken arms, or formed any attempts
against him, provided they submitted themselves to mercy by a certain
day, and took the usual oath of fealty and allegiance. Upon this
proclamation many came out of their sanctuaries; and the minds of men
were every where much quieted. Henry chose to take wholly to himself
the merit of an act of grace so agreeable to the nation, rather than
communicate it with the parliament, (as was his first intention,) by
passing a bill to that purpose. The earl of Surrey, however, though he
had submitted, and delivered himself into the king’s hands, was sent
prisoner to the Tower.
During this parliament, the king also bestowed favors and honors on some
particular persons who were attached to him. Edward Stafford, eldest son
of the duke of Buckingham attainted in the late reign, was restored
to the honors of his family, as well as to his fortune, which was very
ample. This generosity, so unusual in Henry, was the effect of his
gratitude to the memory of Buckingham, who had first concerted the plan
of his elevation, and who by his own ruin had made way for that great
event. Chandos of Brittany was created earl of Bath, Sir Giles Daubeny,
Lord Daubeny, and Sir Robert Willoughby, Lord Broke. These were all
the titles of nobility conferred by the king during this session of
parliament.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 566
But the ministers whom Henry most trusted and favored were not chosen
from among the nobility, or even from among the laity. John Morton and
Richard Fox, two clergymen persons of industry, vigilance, and capacity,
were the men to whom he chiefly confided his affairs and secret
counsels. They had shared with him all his former dangers and
distresses; and he now took care to make them participate in his good
fortune. They were both called to the privy council; Morton was restored
to the bishopric of Ely, Fox was created bishop of Exeter. The former,
soon after, upon the death of Bourchier, was raised to the see of
Canterbury. The latter was made privy seal; and successively bishop
of Bath and Wells, Durham, and Winchester. For Henry, as Lord Bacon
observes, loved to employ and advance prelates; because, having rich
bishoprics to bestow, it was easy for him to reward their services: and
it was his maxim to raise them by slow steps, and make them first pass
through the interior sees.[*] He probably expected that, as they were
naturally more dependent on him than the nobility, who during that age
enjoyed possessions and jurisdictions dangerous to royal authority, so
the prospect of further elevation would render them still more active in
his service, and more obsequious to his commands.
* Bacon, p. 582.
{1486.} In presenting the bill of tonnage and poundage, the parliament,
anxious to preserve the legal, undisputed succession to the crown, had
petitioned Henry, with demonstrations of the greatest zeal, to espouse
the princess Elizabeth; but they covered their true reason under the
dutiful pretence of their desire to have heirs of his body. He now
thought in earnest of satisfying the minds of his people in that
particular. His marriage was celebrated at London; and that with
greater appearance of universal joy than either his first entry or his
coronation. Henry remarked with much displeasure this general favor
borne to the house of York. The suspicions which arose from it not only
disturbed his tranquillity during his whole reign, but bred disgust
towards his consort herself, and poisoned all his domestic enjoyments.
Though virtuous, amiable, and obsequious to the last degree, she never
met with a proper return of affection, or even of complaisance, from her
husband; and the malignant ideas of faction still, in his sullen mind,
prevailed over all the sentiments of conjugal tenderness.
The king had been carried along with such a tide of success ever since
his arrival in England, that he thought nothing could withstand the
fortune and authority which attended him.
He now resolved to make a progress into the north, where the friends of
the house of York, and even the partisans of Richard, were numerous, in
hopes of curing, by his presence and conversation, the prejudices of
the malecontents. When he arrived at Nottingham, he heard that Viscount
Lovel, with Sir Humphrey Stafford, and Thomas his brother, had secretly
withdrawn themselves from their sanctuary at Colchester: but this news
appeared not to him of such importance as to stop his journey; and he
proceeded forward to York. He there heard that the Staffords had levied
an army, and were marching to besiege the city of Worcester; and that
Lovel, at the head of three or four thousand men, was approaching to
attack him in York. Henry was not dismayed with this intelligence. His
active courage, full of resources, immediately prompted him to find
the proper remedy. Though surrounded with enemies in these disaffected
counties, he assembled a small body of troops, in whom he could confide;
and he put them under the command of the duke of Bedford. He joined to
them all his own attendants; but he found that this hasty armament was
more formidable by their spirit and their zealous attachment to him,
than by the arms or military stores with which they were provided. He
therefore gave Bedford orders not to approach the enemy; but previously
to try every proper expedient to disperse them. Bedford published a
general promise of pardon to the rebels, which had a greater effect
on their leader than on his followers. Lovel, who had undertaken an
enterprise that exceeded his courage and capacity, was so terrified
with the fear of desertion among his troops, that he suddenly withdrew
himself; and after lurking some time in Lancashire, he made his escape
into Flanders, where he was protected by the duchess of Burgundy. His
army submitted to the king’s clemency; and the other rebels, hearing of
this success, raised the siege of Worcester, and dispersed themselves.
The Staffords took sanctuary in the church of Colnham, a village near
Abingdon; but as it was found that this church had not the privilege
of giving protection to rebels, they were taken thence; the elder was
executed at Tyburn; the younger, pleading that he had been misled by his
brother, obtained a pardon.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 569.
Henry’s joy for this success was followed, some time after, by the birth
of a prince, to whom he gave the name of Arthur in memory of the famous
British king of that name, from whom it was pretended the family of
Tudor derived its descent.
Though Henry had been able to defeat this hasty rebellion raised by
the relics of Richard’s partisans, his government was become in general
unpopular: the source of public discontent arose chiefly from his
prejudices against the house of York which was generally beloved by
the nation, and which, for that very reason, became every day more
the object of his hatred and jealousy. Not only a preference on all
occasions, it was observed, was given to the Lancastrians, but many
of the opposite party had been exposed to great severity, and had been
bereaved of their fortunes by acts of attainder. A general resumption
likewise had passed of all grants made by the princes of the house of
York; and though this rigor had been covered under the pretence that the
revenue was become insufficient to support the dignity of the crown, and
though the grants during the later years of Henry VI. were resumed by
the same law, yet the York party, as they were the principal sufferers
by the resumption, thought it chiefly levelled against them. The
severity exercised against the earl of Warwick begat compassion for
youth and innocence exposed to such oppression; and his confinement in
the Tower, the very place where Edward’s children had been murdered by
their uncle, made the public expect a like catastrophe for him, and led
them to make a comparison between Henry and that detested tyrant. And
when it was remarked that the queen herself met with harsh treatment,
and even after the birth of a son, was not admitted to the honor of
a public coronation, Henry’s prepossessions were then concluded to be
inveterate, and men became equally obstinate in their disgust to his
government. Nor was the manner and address of the king calculated to
cure these prejudices contracted against his administration; but had
in every thing a tendency to promote fear, or at best reverence, rather
than good will and affection.[*] While the high idea entertained of
his policy and vigor retained the nobility and men of character in
obedience, the effects of his unpopular government soon appeared, by
incidents of an extraordinary nature.
* Bacon, p. 583.
There lived in Oxford one Richard Simon, a priest, who possessed
some subtlety, and still more enterprise and temerity. This man had
entertained the design of disturbing Henry’s government, by raising a
pretender to his crown, and for that purpose he cast his eyes on Lambert
Simnel, a youth of fifteen years of age, who was son of a baker, and
who, being endowed with understanding above his years, and address
above his condition, seemed well fitted to personate a prince of royal
extraction. A report had been spread among the people, and received,
with great avidity, that Richard, duke of York, second son of Edward
IV., had, by a secret escape, saved himself from the cruelty of his
uncle, and lay somewhere concealed in England. Simon, taking advantage
of this rumor, had at first instructed his pupil to assume that name,
which he found to be so fondly cherished by the public: but hearing
afterwards a new report, that Warwick had made his escape from the
Tower, and observing that this news was attended with no less general
satisfaction, he changed the plan of his imposture, and made Simnel
personate that unfortunate prince.[*] Though the youth was qualified by
nature for the part which he was instructed to act, yet was it remarked,
that he was better informed in circumstances relating to the royal
family, particularly in the adventures of the earl of Warwick, than he
could be supposed to have learned from one of Simon’s condition: and it
was thence conjectured, that persons of higher rank, partisans of the
house of York, had laid the plan of this conspiracy, and had conveyed
proper instructions to the actors. The queen dowager herself was exposed
to suspicion; and it was indeed the general opinion, however unlikely
it might seem, that she had secretly given her consent to the imposture.
This woman was of a very restless disposition. Finding that, instead
of receiving the reward of her services in contributing to Henry’s
elevation, she herself was fallen into absolute insignificance, her
daughter treated with severity, and all her friends brought under
subjection, she had conceived the most violent animosity against him,
and had resolved to make him feel the effects of her resentment. She
knew that the impostor, however successful, might easily at last be
set aside; and if a way could be found at his risk to subvert the
government, she hoped that a scene might be opened, which, though
difficult at present exactly to foresee, would gratify her revenge, and
be on the whole less irksome to her than that slavery and contempt to
which she was now reduced.[**]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 569. 570.
** Polyd. Virg. p. 570.
But whatever care Simon might take to convey instruction to his pupil
Simnel, he was sensible that the imposture would not bear a close
inspection; and he was therefore determined to open the first public
scene of it in Ireland. That island, which was zealously attached to
the house of York, and bore an affectionate regard to the memory
of Clarence, Warwick’s father, who had been their lieutenant, was
improvidently allowed by Henry to remain in the same condition in
which he found it; and all the counsellors and officers, who had been
appointed by his predecessor, still retained their authority. No sooner
did Simnel present himself to Thomas Fitzgerald, earl of Kildare, the
deputy, and claim his protection as the unfortunate Warwick, than that
credulous nobleman, not suspecting so bold an imposture, gave attention
to him, and began to consult some persons of rank with regard to this
extraordinary incident. These he found even more sanguine in their zeal
and belief than himself: and in proportion as the story diffused itself
among those of lower condition, it became the object of still greater
passion and credulity, till the people in Dublin with one consent
tendered their allegiance to Simnel, as to the true Plantagenet. Fond of
a novelty which flattered their natural propension, they overlooked
the daughters of Edward IV., who stood before Warwick in the order
of succession; they paid the pretended prince attendance as their
sovereign, lodged him in the Castle of Dublin, crowned him with a diadem
taken from a statue of the Virgin, and publicly proclaimed him king, by
the appellation of Edward VI. The whole island followed the example of
the capital; and not a sword was any where drawn in Henry’s quarrel.
When this intelligence was conveyed to the king, it reduced him to some
perplexity. Determined always to face his enemies in person, he yet
scrupled at present to leave England, where he suspected the conspiracy
was first framed, and where he knew many persons of condition, and the
people in general, were much disposed to give it countenance. In order
to dis cover the secret source of the contrivance, and take measures
against this open revolt, he held frequent consultations with his
ministers and counsellors, and laid plans for a vigorous defence of his
authority, and the suppression of his enemies.
The first event which followed these deliberations gave surprise to the
public; it was the seizure of the queen dowager the forfeiture of all
her lands and revenue, and the close confinement of her person in the
nunnery of Bermondsey. The act of authority was covered with a very thin
pretence. It was alleged that, notwithstanding the secret agreement to
marry her daughter to Henry, she had yet yielded to the solicitations
and menaces of Richard, and had delivered that princess and her sisters
into the hands of the tyrant. This crime, which was now become obsolete,
and might admit of alleviations, was therefore suspected not to be the
real cause of the severity with which she was treated; and men believed
that the king, unwilling to accuse so near a relation of a conspiracy
against him, had cloaked his vengeance or precaution under color of
an offence known to the whole world.[*] They were afterwards the more
confirmed in this suspicion, when they found that the unfortunate queen,
though she survived this disgrace several years, was never treated with
any more lenity, but was allowed to end her life in poverty, solitude,
and confinement.
* Bacon, p. 583, Polyd. Virg. p. 571.
The next measure of the king’s was of a less exceptionable nature.
He ordered that Warwick should be taken from the Tower, be led in
procession through the streets of London, be conducted to St. Paul’s,
and there exposed to the view of the whole people. He even gave
directions, that some men of rank, attached to the house of York, and
best acquainted with the person of this prince, should approach him and
converse with him: and he trusted that these, being convinced of the
absurd imposture of Simnel, would put a stop to the credulity of the
populace. The expedient had its effect in England: but in Ireland the
people still persisted in their revolt, and zealously retorted on the
king the reproach of propagating an imposture, and of having shown a
counterfeit Warwick to the public.
Henry had soon reason to apprehend, that the design against him was
not laid on such slight foundations as the absurdity of the contrivance
seemed to indicate. John, earl of Lincoln, son of John de la Pole, duke
of Suffolk, and of Elizabeth, eldest sister to Edward IV., was engaged
to take part in the conspiracy. This nobleman, who possessed capacity
and courage, had entertained very aspiring views; and his ambition was
encouraged by the known intentions of his uncle Richard, who had formed
a design, in case he himself should die without issue, of declaring
Lincoln successor to the crown. The king’s jealousy against all eminent
persons of the York party, and his rigor towards Warwick, had further
struck Lincoln with apprehensions, and made him resolve to seek
for safety in the most dangerous counsels. Having fixed a secret
correspondence with Sir Thomas Broughton, a man of great interest in
Lancashire, he retired to Flanders, where Lovel had arrived a little
before him; and he lived during some time in the court of his aunt the
duchess of Burgundy, by whom he had been invited over.
Margaret, widow of Charles the Bold, duke of Burgundy, not having any
children of her own, attached herself with an entire friendship to her
daughter-in-law, married to Maximilian, archduke of Austria; and after
the death of that princess, she persevered in her affection to Philip
and Margaret, her children, and occupied herself in the care of their
education and of their persons. By her virtuous conduct and demeanor
she had acquired great authority among the Flemings and lived with much
dignity, as well as economy, upon that ample dowry which she inherited
from her husband. The resentments of this princess were no less warm
than her friendships; and that spirit of faction, which it is so
difficult for a social and sanguine temper to guard against, had taken
strong possession of her heart, and intrenched somewhat on the probity
which shone forth in the other parts of her character. Hearing of the
malignant jealousy entertained by Henry against her family, and
his oppression of all its partisans, she was moved with the highest
indignation; and she determined to make him repent of that enmity to
which so many of her friends, without any reason or necessity, had
fallen victims.
{1487.} After consulting with Lincoln and Lovel she hired a body of two
thousand veteran Germans, under the command of Martin Swart, a brave
and experienced officer; [*] and sent them over, together with these two
noblemen, to join Simnel in Ireland. The countenance given by persons
of such high rank, and the accession of this military force, much raised
the courage of the Irish, and made them entertain the resolution of
invading England, where they believed the spirit of disaffection as
prevalent as it appeared to be in Ireland. The poverty also under which
they labored, made it impossible for them to support any longer their
new court and army, and inspired them with a strong desire of enriching
themselves by plunder and preferment in England.
* Polyd. Virg. p. 572, 573.
Henry was not ignorant of these intentions of his enemies, and he
prepared himself for defence. He ordered troops to be levied in
different parts of the kingdom, and put them under the command of the
duke of Bedford and earl of Oxford. He confined the marquis of Dorset,
who, he suspected, would resent the injuries suffered by his mother, the
queen dowager; and, to gratify the people by an appearance of devotion,
he made a pilgrimage to our lady of Walsingham, famous for miracles;
and there offered up prayers for success, and for deliverance from his
enemies.
Being informed that Simnel was landed at Foudrey in Lancashire, he drew
together his forces, and advanced towards the enemy as far as Coventry.
The rebels had entertained hopes that the disaffected counties in the
north would rise in their favor; but the people in general, averse to
join Irish and German invaders, convinced of Lambert’s imposture, and
kept in awe by the king’s reputation for success and conduct, either
remained in tranquillity, or gave assistance to the royal army. The earl
of Lincoln, therefore, who commanded the rebels, finding no hopes but
in victory, was determined to bring the matter to a speedy decision; and
the king, supported by the native courage of his temper, and emboldened
by a great accession of volunteers, who had joined him under the earl of
Shrewsbury and Lord Strange, declined not the combat. The hostile armies
met at Stoke, in the county of Nottingham, and fought a battle, which
was bloody, and more obstinately disputed than could have been expected
from the inequality of their force. All the leaders of the rebels were
resolved to conquer or to perish; and they inspired their troops
with like resolution. The Germans also, being veteran and experienced
soldiers, kept the event long doubtful; and even the Irish, though
ill-armed and almost defenceless, showed themselves not defective in
spirit and bravery. The king’s victory was purchased with loss, but was
entirely decisive. Lincoln, Broughton, and Swart perished in the field
of battle, with four thousand of their followers. As Lovel was never
more heard of, he was believed to have undergone the same fate; Simnel,
with his tutor, Simon, was taken prisoner. Simon, being a priest, was
not tried at law, and was only committed to close custody: Simnel was
too contemptible to be an object either of apprehension or resentment to
Henry. He was pardoned, and made a scullion in the king’s kitchen whence
he was afterwards advanced to the rank of a falconer.[*]
* Bacon, p. 586. Polyd. Virg. p; 574.
Henry had now leisure to revenge himself on his enemies. He made a
progress into the northern parts, where he gave many proofs of his
rigorous disposition. A strict inquiry was made after those who had
assisted or favored the rebels. The punishments were not all sanguinary:
the king made his revenge subservient to his avarice. Heavy fines were
levied upon the delinquents. The proceedings of the courts, and even the
courts themselves, were arbitrary. Either the criminals were tried by
commissioners appointed for the purpose, or they suffered punishment
by sentence of a court-martial. And as a rumor had prevailed before the
battle of Stoke, that the rebels had gained the victory, that the royal
army was cut in pieces, and that the king himself had escaped by flight,
Henry was resolved to interpret the belief or propagation of this report
as a mark of disaffection; and he punished many for that pretended
crime. But such in this age was the situation of the English government,
that the royal prerogative, which was but imperfectly restrained during
the most peaceable periods, was sure, in tumultuous or even suspicious
times, which frequently recurred, to break all bounds of law, and to
violate public liberty.
After the king had gratified his rigor by the punishment of his enemies,
he determined to give contentment to the people in a point which, though
a mere ceremony, was passionately desired by them. The queen had
been married near two years, but had not yet been crowned; and this
affectation of delay had given great discontent to the public, and had
been one principal source of the disaffection which prevailed. The king,
instructed by experience, now finished the ceremony of her coronation;
and to show a disposition still more gracious, he restored to liberty
the marquis of Dorset, who had been able to clear himself of all the
suspicions entertained against him.
* Bacon, p. 586. Polyd. Virg. p; 574.
CHAPTER XXV.
HENRY VII.
{1488.} The king acquired great reputation throughout Europe by the
vigorous and prosperous conduct of his domestic affairs; but as some
incidents about this time invited him to look abroad, and exert himself
in behalf of his allies, it will be necessary, in order to give a
just account of his foreign measures, to explain the situation of
the neighboring kingdoms, beginning with Scotland, which lies most
contiguous.
The kingdom of Scotland had not yet attained that state which
distinguishes a civilized monarchy, and which enables the government, by
the force of its laws and institutions alone, without any extraordinary
capacity in the sovereign, to maintain itself in order and tranquillity.
James III., who now filled the throne, was a prince of little industry
and of a narrow genius; and though it behoved him to yield the reins of
government to his ministers, he had never been able to make any choice
which could give contentment both to himself and to his people. When he
bestowed his confidence on any of the principal nobility, he found that
they exalted their own family to such a height as was dangerous to the
prince, and gave umbrage to the state: when he conferred favor on any
person of meaner birth, on whose submission he could more depend,
the barons of his kingdom, enraged at the power of an upstart minion,
proceeded to the utmost extremities against their sovereign. Had Henry
entertained the ambition of conquests, a tempting opportunity now
offered of reducing that kingdom to subjection; but as he was probably
sensible that a warlike people, though they might be overrun by reason
of their domestic divisions, could not be retained in obedience without
a regular military force, which was then unknown in England, he rather
intended the renewal of the peace with Scotland, and sent an embassy to
James for that purpose. But the Scots, who never desired a durable peace
with England, and who deemed their security to consist in constantly
preserving themselves in a warlike posture, would not agree to more than
a seven years’ truce, which was accordingly concluded.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 575.
The European states on the continent were then hastening fast to the
situation in which they have remained, without any material alteration,
for near three centuries; and began to unite themselves into one
extensive system of policy, which comprehended the chief powers of
Christendom. Spain, which had hitherto been almost entirely occupied
within herself, now became formidable by the union of Arragon and
Castile in the persons of Ferdinand and Isabella, who, being princes
of great capacity, employed their force in enterprises the most
advantageous to their combined monarchy. The conquest of Granada from
the Moors was then undertaken, and brought near to a happy conclusion.
And in that expedition the military genius of Spain was revived; honor
and security were attained; and her princes, no longer kept in awe by a
domestic enemy so dangerous, began to enter into all the transactions of
Europe, and make a great figure in every war and negotiation.
Maximilian, king of the Romans, son of the emperor Frederick, had, by
his marriage with the heiress of Burgundy, acquired an interest in
the Netherlands; and though the death of his consort had weakened his
connections with that country, he still pretended to the government
as tutor to his son Philip, and his authority had been acknowledged
by Brabant, Holland, and several of the provinces. But as Flanders and
Hainault still refused to submit to his regency, and even appointed
other tutors to Philip, he had been engaged in long wars against that
obstinate people, and never was able thoroughly to subdue their spirit.
That he might free himself from the opposition of France, he had
concluded a peace with Lewis XI., and had given his daughter Margaret,
then an infant, in marriage to the dauphin; together with Artois,
Franche Compte, and Charolois, as her dowry. But this alliance had
not produced the desired effect. The dauphin succeeded to the crown of
France by the appellation of Charles VIII.; but Maximilian still found
the mutinies of the Flemings fomented by the intrigues of the court of
France.
France, during the two preceding reigns, had made a mighty increase in
power and greatness; and had not other states of Europe at the same time
received an accession of force, it had been impossible to have retained
her within her ancient boundaries. Most of the great fiefs, Normandy,
Champagne, Anjou, Dauphny, Guienne, Provence, and Burgundy, had
been united to the crown; the English had been expelled from all their
conquests; the authority of the prince had been raised to such a height
as enabled him to maintain law and order; a considerable military force
was kept on foot, and the finances were able to support it. Lewis XI,
indeed, from whom many of these advantages were derived, was dead, and
had left his son, in early youth and ill educated, to sustain the weight
of the monarchy: but having intrusted the government to his daughter
Anne, lady of Beaujeu, a woman of spirit and capacity, the French power
suffered no check or decline. On the contrary, this princess formed the
great project, which at last she happily effected, of uniting to the
crown Brittany, the last and most independent fief of the monarchy.
Francis II., duke of Brittany, conscious of his own incapacity for
government, had resigned himself to the direction of Peter Landais,
a man of mean birth, more remarkable for abilities than for virtue or
integrity. The nobles of Brittany, displeased with the great advancement
of this favorite, had even proceeded to disaffection against their
sovereign; and after many tumults and disorders, they at last united
among themselves, and in a violent manner seized, tried, and put to
death the obnoxious minister. Dreading the resentment of the prince for
this invasion of his authority, many of them retired to France; others,
for protection and safety, maintained a secret correspondence with the
French ministry, who, observing the great dissensions among the Bretons,
thought the opportunity favorable for invading the duchy; and so
much the rather as they could cover their ambition under the specious
pretence of providing for domestic security.
Lewis, duke of Orleans, first prince of the blood, and presumptive
heir of the monarchy, had disputed the administration with the lady of
Beaujeu; and though his pretensions had been rejected by the states, he
still maintained cabals with many of the grandees, and laid schemes
for subverting the authority of that princess. Finding his conspiracies
detected, he took to arms, and fortified himself in Beaugeune;
but as his revolt was precipitate, before his confederates were ready to
join him, he had been obliged to submit, and to receive such conditions
as the French ministry were pleased to impose upon him. Actuated,
however, by his ambition, and even by his fears, he soon retired out of
France, and took shelter with the duke of Brittany, who was desirous of
strengthening himself against the designs of the lady of Beaujeu by the
friendship and credit of the duke of Orleans. This latter prince
also, perceiving the ascendant which he soon acquired over the duke of
Brittany, had engaged many of his partisans to join him at that court,
and had formed the design of aggrandizing himself by a marriage with
Anne, the heir of that opulent duchy.
The barons of Brittany, who saw all favor engrossed by the duke of
Orleans and his train, renewed a stricter correspondence with France,
and even invited the French king to make an invasion on their country.
Desirous, however, of preserving its independency, they had regulated
the number of succors which France was to send them, and had stipulated
that no fortified place in Brittany should remain in the possession of
that monarchy; a vain precaution, where revolted subjects treat with a
power so much superior! The French invaded Brittany with forces three
times more numerous than those which they had promised to the barons;
and advancing into the heart of the country, laid siege to Ploerrnel. To
oppose them, the duke raised a numerous but ill-disciplined army, which
he put under the command of the duke of Orleans, the count of Dunois,
and others of the French nobility. The army, discontented with this
choice, and jealous of their confederates, soon disbanded, and left
their prince with too small a force to keep the field against his
invaders. He retired to Vannes; but being hotly pursued by the French,
who had now made themselves masters of Ploermel, he escaped to Nantz;
and the enemy, having previously taken and garrisoned Vannes, Dinant,
and other places, laid close siege to that city. The barons of Brittany,
finding their country menaced with total subjection, began gradually to
withdraw from the French army, and to make peace with their sovereign.
This desertion, however, of the Bretons discouraged not the court
of France from pursuing her favorite project of reducing Brittany to
subjection The situation of Europe appeared favorable to the execution
of this design. Maximilian was indeed engaged in close alliance with the
duke of Brittany and had even opened a treaty for marrying his daughter;
but he was on all occasions so indigent, and at that time so disquieted
by the mutinies of the Flemings, that little effectual assistance could
be expected from him. Ferdinand was entirely occupied in the conquest of
Granada; and it was also known, that if France would resign to him
Roussillon and Cerdagne, to which he had pretensions, she could at any
time engage him to abandon the interests of Brittany. England, alone,
was both enabled by her power, and engaged by her interests, to support
the independency of that duchy; and the most dangerous opposition was
therefore, by Anne of Beaujeu, expected from that quarter. In order to
cover her real designs, no sooner was she informed of Henry’s success
against Simnel and his partisans, than she despatched ambassadors to the
court of London, and made professions of the greatest trust and
confidence in that monarch.
The ambassadors, after congratulating Henry on his late victory, and
communicating to him, in the most cordial manner, as to an intimate
friend, some successes of their master against Maximilian, came in
the progress of their discourse to mention the late transactions in
Brittany. They told him that the duke having given protection to French
fugitives and rebels, the king had been necessitated, contrary to his
intention and inclination, to carry war into that duchy; that the honor
of the crown was interested not to suffer a vassal so far to forget
his duty to his liege lord; nor was the security of the government less
concerned to prevent the consequences of this dangerous temerity: that
the fugitives were no mean or obscure persons; but among others,
the duke of Orleans, first prince of the blood, who, finding himself
obnoxious to justice for treasonable practices in France, had fled
into Brittany; where he still persevered in laying schemes of rebellion
against his sovereign: that the war being thus, on the part of the
French monarch, entirely defensive, it would immediately cease, when the
duke of Brittany, by returning to his duty, should remove the causes of
it: that their master was sensible of the obligations which the duke,
in very critical times, had conferred on Henry; but it was known also,
that, in times still more critical, he or his mercenary counsellors
had deserted him, and put his life in the utmost hazard: that his sole
refuge in these desperate extremities had been the court of France,
which not only protected his person, but supplied him with men and
money, with which, aided by his own valor and conduct, he had been
enabled to mount the throne of England; that France in this transaction
had, from friendship to Henry acted contrary to what, in a narrow view,
might be esteemed her own interest; since, instead of an odious tyrant,
she had contributed to establish on a rival throne a prince endowed with
such virtue and abilities; and that, as both the justice of the cause
and the obligations conferred on Henry thus preponderated on the side
of France, she reasonably expected that, if the situation of his affairs
did not permit him to give her assistance, he would at least preserve a
neutrality between the contending parties.[*]
* Bacon, p. 589.
This discourse of the French ambassadors was plausible; and to give
it greater weight, they communicated to Henry, as in confidence, their
master’s intention, after he should have settled the differences with
Brittany to lead an army into Italy, and make good his pretensions to
the kingdom of Naples; a project which, they knew, would give no umbrage
to the court of England. But all these artifices were in vain employed
against the penetration of the king. He clearly saw that France had
entertained the view of subduing Brittany; but he also perceived, that
she would meet with great, and, as he thought, insuperable difficulties
in the execution of her project. The native force of that duchy, he
knew, had always been considerable, and had often, without any foreign
assistance, resisted the power of France; the natural temper of
the French nation, he imagined, would make them easily abandon any
enterprise which required perseverance; and as the heir of the crown
was confederated with the duke of Brittany, the ministers would be
still more remiss in prosecuting a scheme which must draw on them his
resentment and displeasure. Should even these internal obstructions be
removed, Maximilian, whose enmity to France was well known, and who now
paid his addresses to the heiress of Brittany, would be able to make a
diversion on the side of Flanders; nor could it be expected that France,
if she prosecuted such ambitious projects, would be allowed to remain in
tranquillity by Ferdinand and Isabella. Above all, he thought the French
court could never expect that England, so deeply interested to preserve
the independency of Brittany, so able by her power and situation to give
effectual and prompt assistance, would permit such an accession of force
to her rival. He imagined, therefore, that the ministers of France,
convinced of the impracticability of their scheme, would at last embrace
pacific views, and would abandon an enterprise so obnoxious to all the
potentates of Europe.
This reasoning of Henry was solid, and might justly engage him in
dilatory and cautious measures: but there entered into his conduct
another motive, which was apt to draw him beyond the just bounds,
because founded on a ruling passion. His frugality, which by degrees
degenerated into avarice, made him averse to all warlike enterprises and
distant expeditions, and engaged him previously to try the expedient
of negotiation. He despatched Urswic, his almoner, a man of address and
abilities, to make offer of his mediation to the contending parties;
an offer which, he thought, if accepted by France, would soon lead to
a composure of all differences; if refused or eluded, would at least
discover the perseverance of that court in her ambitious projects.
Urswic found the lady of Beaujeu, now duchess of Bourbon, engaged in the
siege of Nantz, and had the satisfaction to find that his master’s
offer of mediation was readily embraced and with many expressions of
confidence and moderation. That able princess concluded, that the duke
of Orleans, who governed the court of Brittany, foreseeing that every
accommodation must be made at his expense, would use all his interest to
have Henry’s proposal rejected; and would by that means make an apology
for the French measures, and draw on the Bretons the reproach of
obstinacy and injustice. The event justified her prudence. When the
English ambassador made the same offer to the duke of Brittany, he
received for answer, in the name of that prince, that having so long
acted the part of protector and guardian to Henry during his youth and
adverse fortune, he had expected from a monarch of such virtue more
effectual assistance in his present distresses than a barren offer of
mediation, which suspended not the progress of the French arms: that if
Henry’s gratitude were not sufficient to engage him in such a measure,
his prudence, as king of England, should discover to him the pernicious
consequences attending the conquest of Brittany, and its annexation to
the crown of France: that that kingdom, already too powerful, would be
enabled, by so great an accession of force, to display, to the ruin of
England, that hostile disposition which had always subsisted between
those rival nations: that Brittany, so useful an ally, which, by its
situation, gave the English an entrance into the heart of France, being
annexed to that kingdom, would be equally enabled from its situation to
disturb, either by piracies or naval armaments, the commerce and
peace cf England: and that if the duke rejected Henry’s mediation, it
proceeded neither from an inclination to a war, which he experienced to
be ruinous to him, nor from a confidence in his own force, which he knew
to be much inferior to that of the enemy; but, on the contrary, from a
sense of his present necessities, which must engage the king to act the
part of his confederate, not that of a mediator.
When this answer was reported to the king, he abandoned not the plan
which he had formed; he only concluded that some more time was requisite
to quell the obstinacy of the Bretons, and make them submit to reason.
And when he learned that the people of Brittany, anxious for their
duke’s safety, had formed a tumultuary army of sixty thousand men, and
had obliged the French to raise the siege of Nantz, he fortified himself
the more in his opinion, that the court of France would at last be
reduced, by multiplied obstacles and difficulties, to abandon the
project of reducing Brittany to subjection. He continued, therefore, his
scheme of negotiation, and thereby exposed himself to be deceived by
the artifices of the French ministry; who, still pretending pacific
intentions, sent Lord Bernard Daubigni, a Scotchman of quality,
to London, and pressed Henry not to be discouraged in offering his
mediation to the court of Brittany. The king, on his part, despatched
another embassy, consisting of Urswic, the abbot of Abingdon, and Sir
Richard Tonstal, who carried new proposals for an amicable treaty. No
effectual succors, meanwhile, were provided for the distressed Bretons.
Lord Woodville, brother to the queen dowager, having asked leave
to raise underhand a body of volunteers, and to transport them into
Brittany, met with a refusal from the king, who was desirous of
preserving the appearance of a strict neutrality. That nobleman,
however, still persisted in his purpose. He went over to the Isle of
Wight, of which he was governor, levied a body of four hundred men; and
having at last obtained, as is supposed, the secret permission of
Henry, sailed with them to Brittany. This enterprise proved fatal to the
leader, and brought small relief to the unhappy duke. The Bretons rashly
engaged in a general action with the French at St. Aubin, and were
discomfited. Woodville and all the English were put to the sword,
together with a body of Bretons, who had been accoutred in the garb of
Englishmen in order to strike a greater terror into the French, to whom
the martial prowess of that nation was always formidable.[*] The duke of
Orleans the prince of Orange, and many other persons of rank were taken
prisoners; and the military force of Brittany was totally broken. The
death of the duke, which followed soon after, threw affairs into
still greater confusion, and seemed to threaten the state with a final
subjection.
Though the king did not prepare against these events, so hurtful to the
interests of England, with sufficient vigor and precaution, he had not
altogether overlooked them. Determined to maintain a pacific conduct,
as far as the situation of affairs would permit, he yet knew the warlike
temper of his subjects, and observed that their ancient and inveterate
animosity to France was now revived by the prospect of this great
accession to her power and grandeur. He resolved, therefore to make
advantage of this disposition, and draw some supplies from the people,
on pretence of giving assistance to the duke of Brittany. He had
summoned a parliament at Westminster;[**] and he soon persuaded them
to grant him a considerable subsidy.[***] But this supply, though
voted by parliament, involved the king in unexpected difficulties.
The counties of Durham and York, always discontented with Henry’s
government, and further provoked by the late oppressions under which
they had labored, after the suppression of Simnel’s rebellion, resisted
the commissioners who were appointed to levy the tax. The commissioners,
terrified with this appearance of sedition, made application to the
earl of Northumberland, and desired of him advice and assistance in
the execution of their office. That nobleman thought the matter of
importance enough to consult the king; who, unwilling to yield to
the humors of a discontented populace, and foreseeing the pernicious
consequence of such a precedent, renewed his orders for strictly levying
the imposition. Northumberland summoned together the justices and chief
freeholders, and delivered the king’s commands in the most imperious
terms which, he thought, would enforce obedience, but which tended only
to provoke the people, and make them believe him the adviser of those
orders which he delivered to them. [****]
* Argentré Hist, de Bretagne, liv. xii.
** 9th November, 1487.
*** Polyd. Virg. (p 579) says, that this imposition was a
capitation tax; the other historians say, it was a tax of
two shillings in the pound.
**** Bacon, p. 595.
They flew to arms, attacked Northumberland in his house, and put him to
death. Having incurred such deep guilt, their mutinous humor prompted
them to declare against the king himself; and being instigated by John
Achamber, a seditious fellow of low birth, they chose Sir John Egremond
their leader, and prepared themselves for a vigorous resistance. Henry
was not dismayed with an insurrection so precipitate and ill supported.
He immediately levied a force, which he put under the command of the
earl of Surrey, whom he had freed from confinement and received into
favor. His intention was to send down these troops, in order to check
the progress of the rebels; while he himself should follow with a
greater body, which would absolutely insure success. But Surrey thought
himself strong enough to encounter alone a raw and unarmed multitude;
and he succeeded in the attempt. The rebels were dissipated; John
Achamber was taken prisoner, and afterwards executed with some of his
accomplices; Sir John Egremond fled to the duchess of Burgundy, who gave
him protection; the greater number of the rebels received a pardon.
Henry had probably expected, when he obtained this grant from
parliament, that he should be able to terminate the affair of Brittany
by negotiation, and that he might thereby fill his coffers with the
money levied by the imposition. But as the distresses of the Bretons
still multiplied, and became every day more urgent, he found himself
under the necessity of taking more vigorous measures, in order to
support them. On the death of the duke, the French had revived some
antiquated claims to the dominion of the duchy; and as the duke of
Orleans was now captive in France, their former pretence for hostilities
could no longer serve as a cover to their ambition. The king resolved
therefore to engage as auxiliary to Brittany; and to consult the
interests, as well as desires of his people, by opposing himself to
the progress of the French power. Besides entering into a league with
Maximilian, and another with Ferdinand, which were distant resources,
he levied a body of troops, to the number of six thousand men, with an
intention of transporting them into Brittany.
{1489.} Still anxious, however, for the repayment of his expenses, he
concluded a treaty with the young duchess, by which she engaged to
deliver into his hands two seaport towns, there to remain till she
should entirely refund the charges of the armament.[*]
* Du Tillet, Recueil des Traités.
Though he engaged for the service of these troops during the space of
ten months only, yet was the duchess obliged, by the necessity of her
affairs, to submit to such rigid conditions, imposed by any ally so
much concerned in interest to protect her. The forces arrived under the
command of Lord Willoughby of Broke; and made the Bretons, during some
time, masters of the field. The French retired into their garrisons;
and expected by dilatory measures to waste the fire of the English, and
disgust them with the enterprise. The scheme was well laid, and met with
success. Lord Broke found such discord and confusion in the counsels of
Brittany, that no measures could be concerted for any undertaking; no
supply obtained; no provisions, carriages, artillery, or military stores
procured. The whole court was rent into factions: no one minister had
acquired the ascendant: and whatever project was formed by one, was
sure to be traversed by another. The English, disconcerted in every
enterprise by these animosities and uncertain counsels, returned home
as soon as the time of their service was elapsed, leaving only a small
garrison in those towns which had been consigned into their hands.
During their stay in Brittany, they had only contributed still further
to waste the country; and by their departure, they left it entirely at
the mercy of the enemy. So feeble was the succor which Henry in this
important conjuncture afforded his ally, whom the invasion of a foreign
enemy, concurring with domestic dissensions, had reduced to the utmost
distress.
The great object of the domestic dissensions in Brittany was the
disposal of the young duchess in marriage. The mareschal Rieux, favored
by Henry, seconded the suit of the lord D’Albret, who led some forces to
her assistance. The chancellor Montauban, observing the aversion of the
duchess to this suitor, insisted that a petty prince, such as
D’Albret, was unable to support Anne in her present extremities; and
he recommended some more powerful alliance, particularly that of
Maximilian, king of the Romans.
{1490.} This party at last prevailed; the marriage with Maximilian was
celebrated by proxy; and the duchess thenceforth assumed the title of
queen of the Romans. But this magnificent appellation was all she
gained by her marriage. Maximilian, destitute of troops and money, and
embarrassed with the continual revolts of the Flemings, could send
no succor to his distressed consort; while D’Albret, enraged at the
preference given to his rival, deserted her cause, and received the
French into Nantz, the most important place in the duchy both for
strength and riches.
The French court now began to change their scheme with regard to the
subjection of Brittany. Charles had formerly been affianced to Margaret,
daughter of Maximilian; who, though too young for the consummation of
her marriage, had been sent to Paris to be educated, and at this time
bore the title of queen of France. Besides the rich dowry which she
brought the king, she was, after her brother Philip, then in early
youth, heir to all the dominions of the house of Burgundy; and seemed in
many respects the most proper match that could be chosen for the young
monarch. These circumstances had so blinded both Maximilian and Henry,
that they never suspected any other intentions in the French court; nor
were they able to discover that engagements, seemingly so advantageous
and so solemnly entered into, could be infringed and set aside. But
Charles began to perceive that the conquest of Brittany, in opposition
to the natives, and to all the great powers of Christendom, would prove
a difficult enterprise; and that even if he should overrun the country
and make himself master of the fortresses, it would be impossible for
him long to retain possession of them. The marriage alone of the duchess
could fully reannex that fief to the crown; and the present and certain
enjoyment of so considerable a territory, seemed preferable to the
prospect of inheriting the dominions of the house of Burgundy; a
prospect which became every day more distant and precarious. Above all,
the marriage of Maximilian and Anne appeared destructive to the grandeur
and even security of the French monarchy; while that prince, possessing
Flanders on the one hand, and Brittany on the other, might thus, from
both quarters, make inroads into the heart of the country. The only
remedy for these evils was therefore concluded to be the dissolution of
the two marriages, which had been celebrated, but not consummated; and
the espousal of the duchess of Brittany by the king of France.
It was necessary that this expedient, which had not been foreseen by any
court in Europe, and which they were all so much interested to oppose,
should be kept a profound secret, and should be discovered to the
world only by the full execution of it. The measures of the French
ministry in the conduct of this delicate enterprise were wise and
political. While they pressed Brittany with all the rigors of war, they
secretly gained the count of Dunois, who possessed great authority with
the Bretons; and having also engaged in their interests the prince of
Orange, cousin-german to the duchess, they gave him his liberty, and
sent him into Brittany. These partisans, supported by other emissaries
of France, prepared the minds of men for the great revolution projected,
and displayed, though still with many precautions, all the advantages
of a union with the French monarchy. They represented to the barons
of Brittany, that their country, harassed during so many years with
perpetual war, had need of some repose, and of a solid and lasting peace
with the only power that was formidable to them: that their alliance
with Maximilian was not able to afford them even present protection;
and, by closely uniting them to a power which was rival to the greatness
of France, fixed them in perpetual enmity with that potent monarchy:
that their vicinity exposed them first to the inroads of the enemy; and
the happiest event which, in such a situation, could befall them, would
be to attain a peace, though by a final subjection to France, and by the
loss of that liberty transmitted to them from their ancestors: and that
any other expedient, compatible with the honor of the state and their
duty to their sovereign, was preferable to a scene of such disorder and
devastation.
These suggestions had influence with the Bretons: but the chief
difficulty lay in surmounting the prejudices of the young duchess
herself. That princess had imbibed a strong prepossession against the
French nation, particularly against Charles, the author of all the
calamities which, from her earliest infancy, had befallen her family.
She had also fixed her affections on Maximilian; and as she now deemed
him her husband, she could not, she thought, without incurring the
greatest guilt, and violating the most solemn engagements, contract a
marriage with any other person.
{1491.} In order to overcome her obstinacy, Charles gave the duke of
Orleans his liberty; who, though formerly a suitor to the duchess, was
now contented to ingratiate himself with the king, by employing in his
favor all the interest which he still possessed in Brittany. Mareschal
Rieux and Chancellor Montauban were reconciled by his mediation; and
these rival ministers now concurred with the prince of Orange and the
count of Dunois, in pressing the conclusion of a marriage with Charles.
By their suggestion, Charles advanced with a powerful army, and invested
Rennes, at that time the residence of the duchess; who, assailed on all
hands, and finding none to support her in her inflexibility, at last
opened the gates of the city, and agreed to espouse the king of France,
She was married at Langey, in Touraine; conducted to St. Denis, where
she was crowned; thence made her entry into Paris, amidst the joyful
acclamations of the people, who regarded this marriage as the most
prosperous event that could have befallen the monarchy.
The triumph and success of Charles was the most sensible mortification
to the king of the Romans. He had lost a considerable territory, which
he thought he had acquired, and an accomplished princess, whom he had
espoused; he was affronted in the person of his daughter Margaret, who
was sent back to him, after she had been treated during some years as
queen of France; he had reason to reproach himself with his own supine
security, in neglecting the consummation of his marriage, which was
easily practicable for him, and which would have rendered the tie
indissoluble: these considerations threw him into the most violent rage,
which he vented in very indecent expressions; and he threatened France
with an invasion from the united arms of Austria, Spain, and England.
The king of England had also just reason to reproach himself with
misconduct in this important transaction; and though the affair had
terminated in a manner which he could not precisely foresee, his
negligence, in leaving his most useful ally so long exposed to the
invasion of superior power, could not but appear on reflection the
result of timid caution and narrow politics. As he valued himself on his
extensive foresight and profound judgment, the ascendant acquired over
him by a raw youth, such as Charles, could not but give him the highest
displeasure, and prompt him to seek vengeance, after all remedy for
his miscarriage was become absolutely impracticable. But he was further
actuated by avarice, a motive still more predominant with him
than either pride or revenge; and he sought, even from his present
disappointments, the gratification of this ruling passion. On pretence
of a French war, he issued a commission for levying a “benevolence”
on his people;[*] a species of taxation which had been abolished by a
recent law of Richard III.
* Rymer, vol. xii. p. 446. Bacon says that the benevolence
was levied with consent of parliament, which is a mistake.
This violence (for such it really was) fell chiefly on the commercial
part of the nation, who were possessed of the ready money. London
alone contributed to the amount of near ten thousand pounds. Archbishop
Morton, the chancellor, instructed the commissioners to employ a
dilemma, in which every one might be comprehended: if the persons
applied to lived frugally, they were told that their parsimony must
necessarily have enriched them; if their method of living were splendid
and hospitable, they were concluded to be opulent on account of their
expenses. This device was by some called Chancellor Morton’s fork, by
others his crutch.
So little apprehensive was the king of a parliament on account of his
levying this arbitrary imposition, that he soon after summoned that
assembly to meet at Westminster; and he even expected to enrich himself
further by working on their passions and prejudices. He knew the
displeasure which the English had conceived against France on account of
the acquisition of Brittany; and he took care to insist on that topic,
in the speech which he himself pronounced to the parliament. He told
them, that France, elated with her late successes, had even proceeded to
a contempt of England, and had refused to pay the tribute which Lewis XI
had stipulated to Edward IV.: that it became so warlike a nation as
the English to be roused by this indignity, and not to limit their
pretensions merely to repelling the present injury: that, for his part,
he was determined to lay claim to the crown itself of France, and to
maintain by force of arms so just a title, transmitted to him by his
gallant ancestors: that Crecy, Poictiers, and Azincour were sufficient
to instruct them in their superiority over the enemy; nor did he despair
of adding new names to the glorious catalogue; that a king of France
had been prisoner in London, and a king of England had been crowned at
Paris; events which should animate them to an emulation of like glory
with that which had been enjoyed by their forefathers: that the domestic
dissensions of England had been the sole cause of her losing these
foreign dominions; and her present internal union would be the effectual
means of recovering them: that where such lasting honor was in view, and
such an important acquisition, it became not brave men to repine at the
advance of a little treasure: and that, for his part, he was determined
to make the war maintain itself; and hoped by the invasion of so opulent
a kingdom as France, to increase rather than diminish the riches of the
nation.[*]
* Bacon, p. 601.
Notwithstanding these magnificent vaunts of the king, all men of
penetration concluded, from the personal character of the man, and still
more from the situation of affairs, that he had no serious intention of
pushing the war to such extremities as he pretended. France was not now
in the same condition as when such successful inroads had been made
upon her by former kings of England. The great fiefs were united to
the crown; the princes of the blood were desirous of tranquillity; the
nation abounded with able captains and veteran soldiers; and the general
aspect of her affairs seemed rather to threaten her neighbors, than to
promise them any considerable advantages against her. The levity and
vain-glory of Maximilian were supported by his pompous titles; but
were ill seconded by military power, and still less by any revenue
proportioned to them. The politic Ferdinand, while he made a show of
war, was actually negotiating for peace; and rather than expose himself
to any hazard, would accept of very moderate concessions from France.
Even England was not free from domestic discontents; and in Scotland,
the death of Henry’s friend and ally, James III., who had been murdered
by his rebellious subjects, had made way for the succession of his son,
James IV., who was devoted to the French interest, and would surely be
alarmed at any important progress of the English arms. But all these
obvious considerations had no influence on the parliament. Inflamed by
the ideas of subduing France, and of enriching themselves by the spoils
of that kingdom, they gave into the snare prepared for them, and voted
the supply which the king demanded. Two fifteenths were granted him; and
the better to enable his vassals and nobility to attend him, an act was
passed, empowering them to sell their estates, without paying any fines
for alienation.
{1492.} The nobility were universally seized with a desire of military
glory; and having credulously swallowed all the boasts of the king, they
dreamed of no less than carrying their triumphant banners to the
gates of Paris, and putting the crown of France on the head of their
sovereign. Many of them borrowed large sums, or sold off manors, that
they might appear in the field with greater splendor, and lead out their
followers in more complete order. The king crossed the sea, and arrived
at Calais on the sixth of October, with an army of twenty-five thousand
foot and sixteen hundred horse, which he put under the command of the
duke of Bedford and the earl of Oxford: but as some inferred, from
his opening the campaign in so late a season, that peace would soon be
concluded between the crowns, he was desirous of suggesting a contrary
inference. “He had come over,” he said, “to make an entire conquest of
France, which was not the work of one summer. It was therefore of no
consequence at what season he began the invasion; especially as he had
Calais ready for winter quarters.” As if he had seriously intended this
enterprise, he instantly marched into the enemy’s country, and laid
siege to Boulogne: but notwithstanding this appearance of hostility,
there had been secret advances made towards peace above three months
before; and commissioners had been appointed to treat of the terms. The
better to reconcile the minds of men to this unexpected measure, the
king’s ambassadors arrived in the camp from the Low Countries, and
informed him, that Maximilian was in no readiness to join him; nor was
any assistance to be expected from that quarter. Soon after, messengers
came from Spain, and brought news of a peace concluded between that
kingdom and France, in which Charles had made a cession of the counties
of Roussillon and Cerdagne to Ferdinand. Though these articles of
intelligence were carefully dispersed throughout the army, the king was
still apprehensive lest a sudden peace, after such magnificent promises
and high expectations, might expose him to reproach. In order the more
effectually to cover the intended measures, he secretly engaged the
marquis of Dorset, together with twenty-three persons of distinction,
to present him a petition for agreeing to a treaty with France. The
pretence was founded on the late season of the year, the difficulty of
supplying the army at Calais during winter, the obstacles which arose
in the siege of Boulogne, the desertion of those allies whose assistance
had been most relied on: events which might, all of them, have been
foreseen before the embarkation of the forces.
In consequence of these preparatory steps, the bishop of Exeter and Lord
Daubeney were sent to confer at Estaples with the mareschal de Cordes,
and to put the last hand to the treaty. A few days sufficed for that
purpose: the demands of Henry were wholly pecuniary; and the king of
Franco, who deemed the peaceable possession of Brittany an equivalent
for any sum, and who was all on fire for his projected expedition into
Italy, readily agreed to the proposals made him. He engaged to pay Henry
seven hundred and forty-five thousand crowns, near four hundred thousand
pounds sterling of our present money; partly as a reimbursement of
the sums advanced to Brittany, partly as arrears of the pension due to
Edward IV. And he stipulated a yearly pension to Henry and his heirs
of twenty-five thousand crowns. Thus the king, as remarked by his
historian, made profit upon his subjects for the war, and upon his
enemies for the peace.[*] And the people agreed that he had fulfilled
his promise, when he said to the parliament that he would make the war
maintain itself. Maximilian was, if he pleased, comprehended in Henry’s
treaty; but he disdained to be in any respect beholden to an ally, of
whom, he thought, he had reason to complain: he made a separate peace
with France, and obtained restitution of Artois, Franche Compte, and
Charolois, which had been ceded as the dowry of his daughter when she
was affianced to the king of France.
* Bacon, p. 605. Polyd Virg. p. 586.
The peace concluded between England and France was the more likely to
continue, because Charles, full of ambition and youthful hopes, bent
all his attention to the side of Italy, and soon after undertook the
conquest of Naples; an enterprise which Henry regarded with the greater
indifference, as Naples lay remote from him, and France had never, in
any age, been successful in that quarter. The king’s authority was
fully established at home; and every rebellion which had been attempted
against him, had hitherto tended only to confound his enemies, and
consolidate his power and influence. His reputation for policy and
conduct was daily augmenting; his treasures had increased even from the
most unfavorable events; the hopes of all pretenders to his throne were
cut off, as well by his marriage as by the issue which it had brought
him. In this prosperous situation, the king had reason to flatter
himself with the prospect of durable peace and tranquillity; but his
inveterate and indefatigable enemies, whom he had wantonly provoked,
raised him an adversary, who long kept him in inquietude, and sometimes
even brought him into danger.
The duchess of Burgundy, full of resentment for the depression of her
family and its partisans, rather irritated than discouraged by the ill
success of her past enterprises, was determined at least to disturb that
government which she found it so difficult to subvert. By means of
her emissaries, she propagated a report that her nephew, Richard
Plantagenet, duke of York, had escaped from the Tower when his elder
brother was murdered, and that he still lay somewhere concealed: and
finding this rumor, however improbable, to be greedily received by the
people, she had been looking out for some young man proper to personate
that unfortunate prince.
There was one Osbec, or Warbec, a renegade Jew of Tournay, who had been
carried by some business to London in the reign of Edward IV., and had
there a son born to him. Having had opportunities of being known to
the king, and obtaining his favor, he prevailed with that prince, whose
manners were very affable, to stand godfather to his son, to whom
he gave the name of Peter, corrupted, after the Flemish manner, into
Peterkin, or Perkin. It was by some believed that Edward, among his
amorous adventures, had a secret commerce with Warbec’s wife; and people
thence accounted for that resemblance which was afterwards remarked
between young Perkin and that monarch.[*]
* Bacon, p. 606.
Some years after the birth of this child, Warbec returned to Tournay;
where Perkin, his son, did not long remain, but by different accidents,
was carried from place to place, and his birth and fortunes became
thereby unknown, and difficult to be traced by the most diligent
inquiry. The variety of his adventures had happily favored the natural
versatility and sagacity of his genius; and he seemed to be a youth
perfectly fitted to act any part, or assume any character. In this light
he had been represented to the duchess of Burgundy, who, struck with the
concurrence of so many circumstances suited to her purpose, desired to
be made acquainted with the man, on whom she already began to ground
her hopes of success. She found him to exceed her most sanguine
expectations; so comely did he appear in his person, so graceful in his
air, so courtly in his address, so full of docility and good sense in
his behavior and conversation. The lessons necessary to be taught him,
in order to his personating the duke of York, were soon learned by a
youth of such quick apprehension; but as the season seemed not then
favorable for their enterprise, Margaret, in order the better to conceal
him, sent him, under the care of Lady Brampton into Portugal, where he
remained a year unknown to all the world.
The war, which was then ready to break out between France and England,
seemed to afford a proper opportunity for the discovery of this new
phenomenon; and Ireland, which still retained its attachments to
the house of York, was chosen as the proper place for his first
appearance.[*] He landed at Cork; and immediately assuming the name of
Richard Plantagenet, drew to him partisans among that credulous people.
He wrote letters to the earls of Desmond and Kildare, inviting them to
join his party: he dispersed every where the strange intelligence of
his escape from the cruelty of his uncle Richard: and men, fond of every
thing new and wonderful, began to make him the general subject of their
discourse, and even the object of their favor.
The news soon reached France; and Charles, prompted by the secret
solicitations of the duchess of Burgundy, and the intrigues of one
Frion, a secretary of Henry’s, who had deserted his service, sent Perkin
an invitation to repair to him at Paris. He received him with all the
marks of regard due to the duke of York; settled on him a handsome
pension, assigned him magnificent lodgings, and in order to provide at
once for his dignity and security, gave him a guard for his person,
of which Lord Congresal accepted the office of captain. The French
courtiers readily embraced a fiction which their sovereign thought
it his interest to adopt: Perkin, both by his deportment and personal
qualities, supported the prepossession which was spread abroad of his
royal pedigree: and the whole kingdom was full of the accomplishments,
as well as the singular adventures and misfortunes, of the young
Plantagenet. Wonders of this nature are commonly augmented at a
distance. From France the admiration and credulity diffused themselves
into England: Sir George Nevil,[*] Sir John Taylor, and above a hundred
gentlemen more, came to Paris, in order to offer their services to the
supposed duke of York, and to share his fortunes: and the impostor had
now the appearance of a court attending him, and began to entertain
hopes of final success in his undertakings.
* Polyd Virg. p. 589.
When peace was concluded between France and England at Estaples, Henry
applied to have Perkin put into his hands; but Charles, resolute not
to betray a young man, of whatever birth, whom he had invited into his
kingdom, would agree only to dismiss him. The pretended Richard retired
to the duchess of Burgundy, and craving her protection and assistance,
offered to lay before her all the proofs of that birth to which he laid
claim. The princess affected ignorance of his pretensions; even put
on the appearance of distrust: and having, as she said, been already
deceived by Simnel, she was determined never again to be seduced by
any impostor. She desired before all the world to be instructed in his
reasons for assuming the name which he bore; seemed to examine every
circumstance with the most scrupulous nicety; put many particular
questions to him; affected astonishment at his answers; and at last,
after long and severe scrutiny, burst out into joy and admiration at
his wonderful deliverance, embraced him as her nephew, the true image of
Edward, the sole heir of the Plantagenets, and the legitimate successor
to the English throne.
{1493.} She immediately assigned him an equipage suited to his pretended
birth; appointed him a guard of thirty halberdiers; engaged every one to
pay court to him; and on all occasions honored him with the appellation
of the White Rose of England. The Flemings, moved by the authority which
Margaret, both from her rank and personal character, enjoyed among them,
readily adopted the fiction of Perkin’s royal descent: no surmise of his
true birth was as yet heard of little contradiction was made to the
prevailing opinion: and the English, from their great communication with
the Low Countries, were every day more and more prepossessed in favor of
the impostor.
It was not the populace alone of England that gave credit to Perkin’s
pretensions. Men of the highest birth and quality, disgusted at Henry’s
government, by which they found the nobility depressed, began to turn
their eyes towards the new claimant; and some of them even entered into
a correspondence with him. Lord Fitzwater, Sir Simon Mountfort, Sir
Thomas Thwaites, betrayed their inclination towards him: Sir William
Stanley himself, lord chamberlain, who had been so active in raising
Henry to the throne, moved either by blind credulity or a restless
ambition, entertained the project of a revolt in favor of his enemy.[*]
* Bacon, p. 608.
Sir Robert Clifford and William Barley were still more open in their
measures: they went over to Flanders, were introduced by the duchess of
Burgundy to the acquaintance of Perkin, and made him a tender of their
services. Clifford wrote back to England, that he knew perfectly the
person of Richard, duke of York, that this young man was undoubtedly
that prince himself, and that no circumstance of his story was exposed
to the least difficulty. Such positive intelligence, conveyed by a
person of rank and character, was sufficient with many to put the matter
beyond question, and excited the attention and wonder even of the most
indifferent. The whole nation was held in suspense; a regular conspiracy
was formed against the king’s authority, and a correspondence settled
between the malecontents in Flanders and those in England.
The king was informed of all these particulars; but agreeably to
his character, which was both cautious and resolute, he proceeded
deliberately, though steadily, in counterworking the projects of his
enemies. His first object was to ascertain the death of the real duke of
York, and to confirm the opinion that had always prevailed with regard
to that event. Five persons had been employed by Richard in the murder
of his nephews, or could give evidence with regard to it; Sir James
Tyrrel, to whom he had committed the government of the Tower for that
purpose, and who had seen the dead princes; Forrest, Dighton, and
Slater, who perpetrated the crime; and the priest who buried the bodies.
Tyrrel and Dighton alone were alive, and they agreed in the same story;
but as the priest was dead, and as the bodies were supposed to have
been removed by Richard’s orders from the place where they were first
interred, and could not now be found, it was not in Henry’s power to put
the fact, so much as he wished, beyond all doubt and controversy.
He met at first with more difficulty, but was in the end more
successful, in detecting who this wonderful person was that thus boldly
advanced pretensions to his crown. He dispersed his spies all over
Flanders and England; he engaged many to pretend that they had embraced
Perkin’s party; he directed them to insinuate themselves into the
confidence of the young man’s friends; in proportion as they conveyed
intelligence of any conspirator, he bribed his retainers, his domestic
servants, nay, sometimes his confessor, and by these means traced up
some other confederate; Clifford himself he engaged, by the hope of
rewards and pardon, to betray the secrets committed to him; the more
trust he gave to any of his spies, the higher resentment did he feign
against them, some of them he even caused to be publicly anathematized,
in order the better to procure them the confidence of his enemies: and
in the issue, the whole plan of the conspiracy was clearly laid before
him; and the pedigree, adventures, life, and conversation of the
pretended duke of York. This latter part of the story was immediately
published for the satisfaction of the nation: the conspirators he
reserved for a slower and surer vengeance.
{1494.} Meanwhile he remonstrated with the archduke Philip, on account
of the countenance and protection which was afforded in his dominions
to so infamous an impostor; contrary to treaties subsisting between the
sovereigns, and to the mutual amity which had so long been maintained
by the subjects of both states. Margaret had interest enough to get his
application rejected; on pretence that Philip had no authority over the
demesnes of the duchess dowager. And the king, in resentment of this
injury, cut off all commerce with the Low Countries, banished the
Flemings, and recalled his own subjects from these provinces. Philip
retaliated by like edicts; but Henry knew, that so mutinous a people as
the Flemings would not long bear, in compliance with the humors of their
prince, to be deprived of the beneficial branch of commerce which they
carried on with England.
He had it in his power to inflict more effectual punishment on his
domestic enemies; and when his projects were sufficiently matured, he
failed not to make them feel the effects of his resentment. Almost
in the same instant he arrested Fitzwater, Mountfort, and Thwaites,
together with William Daubeney, Robert Rateliff, Thomas Cressenor, and
Thomas Astwood. All these were arraigned, convicted, and condemned
for high treason, in adhering and promising aid to Perkin. Mountfort,
Ratcliff, and Daubeney were immediately executed: Fitzwater was
sent over to Calais, and detained in custody; but being detected in
practising on his keeper for an escape, he soon after underwent the same
fate. The rest were pardoned, together with William Worseley, dean of
St. Paul’s, and some others, who had been accused and examined, but not
brought to public trial.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 592.
Greater and more solemn preparations were deemed requisite for the
trial of Stanley, lord chamberlain, whose authority in the nation, whose
domestic connections with the king, as well as his former services,
seemed to secure him against any accusation or punishment. Clifford was
directed to come over privately to England, and to throw himself at the
king’s feet while he sat in council; craving pardon for past offences
and offering to atone for them by any services which should be required
of him. Henry then told him, that the best proof he could give of
penitence, and the only service he could now render him, was the full
confession of his guilt, and the discovery of all his accomplices,
however distinguished by rank or character. Encouraged by this
exhortation, Clifford accused Stanley, then present, as his chief
abettor; and offered to lay before the council the full proof of
his guilt. Stanley himself could not discover more surprise than was
affected by Henry on the occasion. He received the intelligence as
absolutely false and incredible; that a man, to whom he was in a great
measure beholden for his crown, and even for his life; a man, to, whom,
by every honor and favor, he had endeavored to express his gratitude;
whose brother, the earl of Derby, was his own father-in-law; to whom
he had even committed the trust of his person, by creating him lord
chamberlain: that this man, enjoying his full confidence and affection,
not actuated by any motive of discontent or apprehension, should engage
in a conspiracy against him. Clifford was therefore exhorted to weigh
well the consequences of his accusation; but as he persisted in the same
positive asseverations, Stanley was committed to custody, and was soon
after examined before the council.[*] He denied not the guilt imputed to
him by Clifford; he did not even endeavor much to extenuate it; whether
he thought that a frank and open confession would serve as an atonement,
or trusted to his present connections and his former services for pardon
and security. But princes are often apt to regard great services as
a ground of jealousy, especially if accompanied with a craving and
restless disposition in the person who has performed them. The general
discontent also, and mutinous humor of the people, seemed to require
some great example of severity. And as Stanley was one of the most
opulent subjects in the kingdom, being possessed of above three thousand
pounds a year in land, and forty thousand marks in plate and money,
besides other property of great value, the prospect of so rich a
forfeiture was deemed no small motive for Henry’s proceeding to
extremities against him.
* Bacon, p. 611 Polyd. Virg. p. 593.
{1495.} After six weeks’ delay, which was interposed in order to show
that the king was restrained by doubts and scruples, the prisoner
was brought to his trial, condemned, and presently after beheaded.
Historians are not agreed with regard to the crime which was proved
against him. The general report is, that he should have said in
confidence to Clifford, that if he were sure the young man who appeared
in Flanders was really son to King Edward, he never would bear arms
against him. The sentiment might disgust Henry, as implying a preference
of the house of York to that of Lancaster; but could scarcely be the
ground, even in those arbitrary times, of a sentence of high treason
against Stanley. It is more probable, therefore, as is asserted by some
historians, that he had expressly engaged to assist Perkin, and had
actually sent him some supply of money.
The fate of Stanley made great impression on the kingdom, and struck
all the partisans of Perkin with the deepest dismay. From Clifford’s
desertion, they found that all their secrets were betrayed; and as
it appeared that Stanley, while he seemed to live in the greatest
confidence with the king, had been continually surrounded by spies, who
reported and registered every action in which he was engaged, nay, every
word which fell from him, a general distrust took place, and all mutual
confidence was destroyed, even among intimate friends and acquaintance.
The jealous and severe temper of the king, together with his great
reputation for sagacity and penetration, kept men in awe, and quelled
not only the movements of sedition, but the very murmurs of faction.
Libels, however, crept out against Henry’s person and administration;
and being greedily propagated by every secret art, showed that there
still remained among the people a considerable root of discontent, which
wanted only a proper opportunity to discover itself.
But Henry continued more intent on increasing the terrors of his people,
than on gaining their affections. Trusting to the great success which
attended him in all his enterprises, he gave every day more and more a
loose to his rapacious temper, and employed the arts of perverted law
and justice, in order to exact fines and compositions from his people.
Sir William Capel, alderman of London, was condemned on some penal
statutes to pay the sum of two thousand seven hundred and forty-three
pounds, and was obliged to compound for sixteen hundred and fifteen.
This was the first noted case of the kind; but it became a precedent,
which prepared the may for many others. The management, indeed, of these
arts of chicanery, was the great secret of the king’s administration.
While he depressed the nobility, he exalted, and honored, and caressed
the lawyers; and by that means both bestowed authority on the laws, and
was enabled, whenever he pleased, to pervert them to his own advantage.
His government was oppressive; but it was so much the less burdensome,
as, by his extending royal authority, and curbing the nobles, he became
in reality the sole oppressor in his kingdom.
As Perkin found that the king’s authority daily gained ground among the
people, and that his own pretensions were becoming obsolete, he resolved
to attempt something which might revive the hopes and expectations of
his partisans. Having collected a band of outlaws, pirates, robbers, and
necessitous persons of all nations, to the number of six hundred men,
he put to sea, with a resolution of making a descent in England, and of
exciting the common people to arms, since all his correspondence with
the nobility was cut off by Henry vigilance and severity. Information
being brought him that the king had made a progress to the north, he
cast anchor on the coast of Kent, and sent some of his retainers ashore,
who invited the country to join him. The gentlemen of Kent assembled
some troops to oppose him; but they purposed to do more essential
service than by repelling the invasion: they carried the semblance of
friendship to Perkin, and invited him to come himself ashore, in order
to take the command over them. But the wary youth, observing that they
had more order and regularity in their movements than could be supposed
in new levied forces who had taken arms against established authority,
refused to intrust himself into their hands; and the Kentish troops,
despairing of success in their stratagem, fell upon such of his
retainers as were already landed; and besides some whom they slew, they
took a hundred and fifty prisoners. These were tried and condemned and
all of them executed, by orders from the king, who was resolved to use
no lenity towards men of such desperate fortunes.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 595.
This year a parliament was summoned in England, and another in Ireland;
and some remarkable laws were passed in both countries. The English
parliament enacted, that no person who should by arms, or otherwise
assist the king for the time being, should ever afterwards, either by
course of law or act of parliament, be attainted for such an instance of
obedience. This statute might be exposed to some censure, as favorable
to usurpers; were there any precise rule, which always, even during
the most factious times, could determine the true successor, and render
every one inexcusable who did not submit to him. But as the titles of
princes are then the great subject of dispute, and each party pleads
topics in its own favor, it seems but equitable to secure those who act
in support of public tranquillity, an object at all times of undoubted
benefit and importance. Henry, conscious of his disputed title, promoted
this law, in order to secure his partisans against all events; but as
he had himself observed a contrary practice with regard to Richard’s
adherents, he had reason to apprehend that, during the violence which
usually ensues on public convulsions, his example, rather than his law,
would, in case of a new revolution, be followed by his enemies. And the
attempt to bind the legislature itself, by prescribing rules to future
parliaments, was contradictory to the plainest principles of political
government.
This parliament also passed an act, empowering the king to levy, by
course of law, all the sums which any person had agreed to pay by way
of benevolence; a statute by which that arbitrary method of taxation was
indirectly authorized and justified.
The king’s authority appeared equally prevalent and uncontrolled in
Ireland. Sir Edward Poynings had been sent over to that country, with
an intention of quelling the partisans of the house of York, and of
reducing the natives to subjection. He was not supported by forces
sufficient for that enterprise: the Irish, by flying into their woods,
and morasses, and mountains, for some time eluded his efforts; but
Poynings summoned a parliament at Dublin, where he was more successful.
He passed that memorable statute, which still bears his name, and which
establishes the authority of the English government in Ireland. By this
statute, all the former laws of England were made to be of force in
Ireland; and no bill can be introduced into the Irish parliament, unless
it previously receive the sanction of the council of England. This
latter clause seems calculated for insuring the dominion of the English;
but was really granted at the desire of the Irish commons who intended,
by that means, to secure themselves from the tyranny of their lords,
particularly of such lieutenants or deputies as were of Irish birth.[*]
* Sir John Davis, p. 236.
While Henry’s authority was thus established throughout his dominions,
and general tranquillity prevailed, the whole continent was thrown into
combustion by the French invasion of Italy, and by the rapid success
which attended Charles in that rash and ill-concerted enterprise. The
Italians, who had entirely lost the use of arms, and who, in the midst
of continual wars, had become every day more unwarlike, were astonished
to meet an enemy that made the field of battle, not a pompous
tournament, but a scene of blood, and sought, at the hazard of their own
lives, the death of their enemy. Their effeminate troops were dispersed
every where on the approach of the French army: their best fortified
cities opened their gates: kingdoms and states were in an instant
overturned; and through the whole length of Italy, which the French
penetrated without resistance, they seemed rather to be taking quarters
in their own country, than making conquests over an enemy. The maxims
which the Italians during that age followed in negotiations, were as
ill calculated to support their states, as the habits to which they were
addicted in war: a treacherous, deceitful, and inconsistent system of
politics prevailed; and even those small remains of fidelity and honor,
which were preserved in the councils of the other European princes, were
ridiculed in Italy, as proofs of ignorance and rusticity. Ludovico, duke
of Milan, who invited the French to invade Naples, had never desired
or expected their success; and was the first that felt terror from the
prosperous issue of those projects which he himself had concerted. By
his intrigues, a league was formed among several potentates, to oppose
the progress of Charles’s conquests, and secure their own independency.
This league was composed of Ludovico himself, the pope, Maximilian, king
of the Romans, Ferdinand of Spain, and the republic of Venice. Henry too
entered into the confederacy; but was not put to any expense or trouble
in consequence of his engagements. The king of France, terrified by so
powerful a combination, retired from Naples with the greater part of
his army, and returned to France. The forces which he left in his new
conquest were, partly by the revolt of the inhabitants, partly by the
invasion of the Spaniards, soon after subdued; and the whole kingdom
of Naples suddenly returned to its allegiance under Ferdinand, son to
Alphonso, who had been suddenly expelled by the irruption of the
French. Ferdinand died soon after, and left his uncle Frederick in full
possession of the throne.
CHAPTER XXVI.
HENRY VII.
{1495.} After Perkin was repulsed from the coast of Kent, he retired
into Flanders; but as he found it impossible to procure subsistence for
himself and his followers while he remained in tranquillity, he soon
after made an attempt upon Ireland, which had always appeared forward
to join every invader of Henry’s authority. But Poynings had now put the
affairs of that island in so good a posture, that Perkin met with little
success; and being tired of the savage life which he was obliged to
lead, while skulking among the wild Irish, he bent his course towards
Scotland, and presented himself to James IV., who then governed that
kingdom. He had been previously recommended to this prince by the king
of France, who was disgusted at Henry for entering into the general
league against him; and this recommendation was even seconded by
Maximilian, who, though one of the confederates, was also displeased
with the king, on account of his prohibiting in England all commerce
with the Low Countries. The countenance given to Perkin by these princes
procured him a favorable reception with the king of Scotland, who
assured him, that, whatever he were, he never should repent putting
himself in his hands:[*] the insinuating address and plausible behavior
of the youth himself, seem to have gained him credit and authority.
James, whom years had not yet taught distrust or caution, was seduced to
believe the story of Perkin’s birth and adventures; and he carried his
confidence so far as to give him in marriage the lady Catharine Gordon,
daughter of the earl of Huntley, and related to himself; a young lady
too, eminent for virtue as well as beauty.
* Bacon, p. 615. Polyd. Virg. p. 596, 597.
{1496.} There subsisted at that time a great jealousy between the courts
of England and Scotland; and James was probably the more forward on that
account to adopt any fiction which he thought might reduce his enemy
to distress or difficulty. He suddenly resolved to make an inroad into
England, attended by some of the borderers; and he carried Perkin along
with him, in hopes that the appearance of the pretended prince might
raise an insurrection in the northern counties. Perkin himself dispersed
a manifesto, in which he set forth his own story, and craved the
assistance of all his subjects in expelling the usurper, whose tyranny
and maladministration, whose depression of the nobility by the
elevation of mean persons, whose oppression of the people by multiplied
impositions and vexations, had justly, he said, rendered him odious
to all men. But Perkin’s pretensions, attended with repeated
disappointments, were now become stale in the eyes even of the populace;
and the hostile dispositions which subsisted between the kingdoms,
rendered a prince supported by the Scots but an unwelcome present to the
English nation. The ravages also committed by the borderers, accustomed
to license and disorder, struck a terror into all men, and made the
people prepare rather for repelling the invaders than for joining them.
Perkin, that he might support his pretensions to royal birth, feigned
great compassion for the misery of his plundered subjects, and publicly
remonstrated with his ally against the depredations exercised by the
Scottish army;[*] but James told him, that he doubted his concern was
employed only in behalf of an enemy, and that he was anxious to preserve
what never should belong to him. That prince now began to perceive that
his attempt would be fruitless; and hearing of an army which was on its
march to attack him, he thought proper to retreat into his own country.
* Polyd. Virg. p. 598.
The king discovered little anxiety to procure either reparation or
vengeance for this insult committed on him by the Scottish nation: his
chief concern was to draw advantage from it, by the pretence which it
might afford him to levy impositions on his own subjects. He summoned a
parliament, to whom he made bitter complaints against the irruption of
the Scots, the absurd imposture countenanced by that nation, the cruel
devastations committed in the northern counties, and the multiplied
insults thus offered both to the king and kingdom of England. The
parliament made the expected return to this discourse, by granting
a subsidy to the amount of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds,
together with two fifteenths. After making this grant, they were
dismissed.
{1497.} The vote of parliament for imposing the tax was without much
difficulty procured by the authority of Henry but he found it not
so easy to levy the money upon his subjects. The people, who were
acquainted with the immense treasures which he had amassed, could ill
brook the new impositions raised on every slight occasion; and it is
probable that the flaw which was universally known to be in his title,
made his reign the more subject to insurrections and rebellions. When
the subsidy began to be levied in Cornwall, the inhabitants, numerous
and poor, robust and courageous, murmured against a tax occasioned by a
sudden inroad of the Scots, from which they esteemed themselves entirely
secure, and which had usually been repelled by the force of the northern
counties. Their ill humor was further incited by one Michael Joseph, a
farrier of Bodmin, a notable prating fellow, who, by thrusting himself
forward on every occasion, and being loudest in every complaint against
the government, had acquired an authority among those rude people.
Thomas Flammoc, too, a lawyer, who had become the oracle of the
neighborhood, encouraged the sedition, by informing them that the tax,
though imposed by parliament, was entirely illegal; that the northern
nobility were bound by their tenures to defend the nation against the
Scots; and that if these new impositions were tamely submitted to,
the avarice of Henry and of his ministers would soon render the burden
intolerable to the nation. The Cornish, he said, must deliver to the
king a petition, seconded by such a force as would give it authority;
and in order to procure the concurrence of the rest of the kingdom,
care must be taken, by their orderly deportment, to show that they
had nothing in view but the public good, and the redress of all those
grievances under which the people had so long labored.
Encouraged by these speeches, the multitude flocked together, and armed
themselves with axes, bills, bows, and such weapons as country people
are usually possessed of. Flammoc and Joseph were chosen their leaders.
They soon conducted the Cornish through the county of Devon, and reached
that of Somerset. At Taunton, the rebels killed, in their fury, an
officious and eager commissioner of the subsidy, whom they called the
provost of Perin. When they reached Wells, they were joined by Lord
Audley, a nobleman of an ancient family, popular in his deportment, but
vain, ambitious and restless in his temper. He had from the beginning
maintained a secret correspondence with the first movers of the
insurrection, and was now joyfully received by them as their leader.
Proud of the countenance given them by so considerable a nobleman, they
continued their march, breathing destruction to the king’s ministers
and favorites, particularly to Morton, now a cardinal, and Sir
Reginald Bray, who were deemed the most active instruments in all his
oppressions. Notwithstanding their rage against the administration, they
carefully followed the directions given them by their leaders; and as
they met with no resistance, they committed, during their march, no
violence or disorder.
The rebels had been told by Flammoc that the inhabitants of Kent,
as they had ever, during all ages, remained unsubdued, and had even
maintained their independence during the Norman conquest, would surely
embrace their party, and declare themselves for a cause which was no
other than that of public good and general liberty. But the Kentish
people had very lately distinguished themselves by repelling Perkin’s
invasion; and as they had received from the king many gracious
acknowledgments for this service, their affections were by that means
much conciliated to his government. It was easy, therefore, for the
earl of Kent, Lord Abergavenny, and Lord Cobham, who possessed great
authority in those parts, to retain the people in obedience; and the
Cornish rebels, though they pitched their camp near Eltham, at the
very gates of London, and invited all the people to join them, got
reënforcement from no quarter. There wanted not discontents every where,
but no one would take part in so rash and ill-concerted an enterprise;
and besides, the situation in which the king’s affairs then stood
discouraged even the boldest and most daring.
Henry, in order to oppose the Scots, had already levied an army, which
he put under the command of Lord Daubeney, the chamberlain; and as
soon as he heard of the Cornish insurrection, he ordered it to march
southwards and suppress the rebels. Not to leave the northern frontier
defenceless, he despatched thither the earl of Surrey, who assembled the
forces on the borders, and made head against the enemy. Henry found
here the concurrence of the three most fatal incidents that can befall a
monarchy; a foreign enemy, a domestic rebellion, and a pretender to
his crown; but he enjoyed great resources in his army and treasure, and
still more in the intrepidity and courage of his own temper. He did not,
however, immediately give full scope to his military spirit. On other
occasions, he had always hastened to a decision; and it was a usual
saying with him, “that he desired but to see his rebels:” but as the
Cornish mutineers behaved in an inoffensive manner, and committed no
spoil on the country; as they received no accession of force on their
march or in their encampment, and as such hasty and popular tumults
might be expected to diminish every moment by delay; he took post in
London, and assiduously prepared the means of insuring victory.
After all his forces were collected, he divided them into three bodies,
and marched out to assail the enemy. The first body, commanded by the
earl of Oxford, and under him by the earls of Essex and Suffolk, were
appointed to place themselves behind the hill on which the rebels were
encamped: the second, and most considerable, Henry put under the command
of Lord Daubeney, and ordered him to attack the enemy in front, and
bring on the action. The third he kept as a body of reserve about his
own person, and took post in St. George’s Fields; where he secured the
city, and could easily, as occasion served, either restore the fight or
finish the victory. To put the enemy off their guard, he had spread
a report that he was not to attack them till some days after; and the
better to confirm them in this opinion, he began not the action till
near the evening. Daubeney beat a detachment of the rebels from Deptford
bridge; and before their main body could be in order to receive him, he
had gained the ascent of the hill, and placed himself in array before
them. They were formidable from their numbers, being sixteen thousand
strong, and were not defective in valor; but being tumultuary troops,
ill armed, and not provided with cavalry or artillery, they were but
an unequal match for the king’s forces. Daubeney began the attack with
courage, and even with a contempt of the enemy which had almost proved
fatal to him. He rushed into the midst of them, and was taken prisoner;
but soon after was released by his own troops. After some resistance,
the rebels were broken and put to flight.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 601.
Lord Audley, Flammoc, and Joseph, their leaders, were taken, and all
three executed. The latter seemed even to exult in his end, and boasted,
with a preposterous ambition, that he should make a figure in his tory.
The rebels, being surrounded on every side by the king’s troops, were
almost all made prisoners; and immediately dismissed without further
punishment: whether, that Henry was satisfied with the victims who had
fallen in the field, and who amounted to near two thousand, or that he
pitied the ignorance and simplicity of the multitude, or favored them
on account of their inoffensive behavior; or was pleased that they had
never, during their insurrection, disputed his title, and had shown
no attachment to the house of York, the highest crime of which, in his
eyes, they could have been guilty.
The Scottish king was not idle during these commotions in England. He
levied a considerable army, and sat down before the Castle of Norham, in
Northumberland; but found that place, by the precaution of Fox, bishop
of Durham, so well provided both with men and ammunition, that he made
little or no progress in the siege. Hearing that the earl of Surrey had
collected some forces, and was advancing upon him, he retreated into
his own country, and left the frontiers exposed to the inroads of the
English general, who besieged and took Aiton, a small castle lying a few
miles beyond Berwick. These unsuccessful or frivolous attempts on both
sides prognosticated a speedy end to the war; and Henry, notwithstanding
his superior force, was no less desirous than James of terminating
the differences between the nations. Not to depart, however, from his
dignity, by making the first advances, he employed in this friendly
office Peter Hialas, a man of address and learning, who had come to him
as ambassador from Ferdinand and Isabella, and who was charged with a
commission of negotiating the marriage of the Infanta Catharine, their
daughter, with Arthur, prince of Wales.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. p. 603.
Hialas took a journey northwards, and offered his mediation between
James and Henry, as minister of a prince who was in alliance with both
potentates. Commissioners were soon appointed to meet and confer on
terms of accommodation. The first demand of the English was, that Perkin
should be put into their hands: James replied, that he himself was
no judge of the young man’s pretensions; but having received him as a
supplicant, and promised him protection, he was determined not to betray
a man who had trusted to his good faith and his generosity. The next
demand of the English met with no better reception: they required
reparation for the ravages committed by the late inroads into England:
the Scottish commissioners replied, that the spoils were like water
spilt upon the ground, which could never be recovered; and that Henry’s
subjects were better able to bear the loss, than their master to repair
it. Henry’s commissioners next proposed, that the two kings should have
an interview at Newcastle, in order to adjust all differences; but James
said, that he meant to treat of a peace, not to go a begging for it.
Lest the conferences should break off altogether without effect, a truce
was concluded for some months; and James, perceiving that while Perkin
remained in Scotland he himself never should enjoy a solid peace with
Henry, privately desired him to depart the kingdom.
Access was now barred Perkin into the Low Countries, his usual retreat
in all his disappointments. The Flemish merchants, who severely felt the
loss resulting from the interruption of commerce with England, had made
such interest in the archduke’s council, that commissioners were sent to
London, in order to treat of an accommodation. The Flemish court agreed,
that all English rebels should be excluded the Low Countries; and in
this prohibition the demesnes of the duchess dowager were expressly
comprehended. When this principal article was agreed to, all the other
terms were easily adjusted. A treaty of commerce was finished, which was
favorable to the Flemings, and to which they long gave the appellation
of “intercursus magnus,” the great treaty. And when the English
merchants returned to their usual abode at Antwerp, they were publicly
received, as in procession, with joy and festivity.
Perkin was a Fleming by descent, though born in England; and it might
therefore be doubted whether he were included in the treaty between the
two nations: but as he must dismiss all his English retainers if he took
shelter in the Low Countries, and as he was sure of a cold reception,
if not bad usage, among people who were determined to keep on terms
of friendship with the court of England, he thought fit rather to
hide himself during some time in the wilds and fastnesses of Ireland.
Impatient, however, of a retreat which was both disagreeable and
dangerous, he held consultations with his followers, Herne, Skelton, and
Astley, three broken tradesmen: by their advice he resolved to try the
affections of the Cornish, whose mutinous disposition, notwithstanding
the king’s lenity, still subsisted after the suppression of their
rebellion. No sooner did he appear at Bodmin, in Cornwall, than the
populace, to the number of three thousand, flocked to his standard, and
Perkin, elated with this appearance of success, took on him, for the
first time, the appellation of Richard IV., king of England. Not to
suffer the expectations of his followers to languish, he presented
himself before Exeter; and by many fair promises invited that city to
join him. Finding that the inhabitants shut their gates against him,
he laid siege to the place; but being unprovided with artillery,
ammunition, and every thing requisite for the attempt, he made no
progress in his undertaking. Messengers were sent to the king, informing
him of this insurrection: the citizens of Exeter meanwhile were
determined to hold out to the last extremity, in expectation of
receiving succor from the well-known vigilance of that monarch.
When Henry was informed that Perkin was landed in England, he expressed
great joy, and prepared himself with alacrity to attack him, in hopes of
being able, at length, to put a period to pretensions which had so long
given him vexation and inquietude. All the courtiers, sensible that
their activity on this occasion would be the most acceptable service
which they could render the king, displayed their zeal for the
enterprise, and forwarded his preparations. The lords Daubeney and
Broke, with Sir Rice ap Thomas, hastened forward with a small body of
troops to the relief of Exeter. The earl of Devonshire, and the most
considerable gentlemen in the county of that name, took arms of their
own accord, and marched to join the king’s generals. The duke of
Buckingham put himself at the head of a troop, consisting of young
nobility and gentry, who served as volunteers, and who longed for an
opportunity of displaying their courage and their loyalty. The king
himself prepared to follow with a considerable army; and thus all
England seemed united against a pretender who had at first engaged their
attention and divided their affections.
Perkin, informed of these great preparations, immediately raised the
siege of Exeter, and retired to Taunton. Though his followers now
amounted to the number of near seven thousand, and seemed still resolute
to maintain his cause, he himself despaired of success, and secretly
withdrew to the sanctuary of Beaulieu, in the new forest. The Cornish
rebels submitted to the king’s mercy, and found that it was not yet
exhausted in their behalf. Except a few persons of desperate fortunes,
who were executed, and some others who were severely fined, all the rest
were dismissed with impunity Lady Catharine Gordon, wife to Perkin fell
into the hands of the victor, and was treated with a generosity which
does him honor. He soothed her mind with many marks of regard, placed
her in a reputable station about the queen and assigned her a pension,
which she enjoyed even under his successor.
{1498.} Henry deliberated what course to take with Perkin himself. Some
counselled him to make the privileges of the church yield to reasons of
state, to take him by violence from the sanctuary, to inflict on him
the punishment due to his temerity, and thus at once to put an end to
an imposture which had long disturbed the government, and which the
credulity of the people and the artifices of malcontents were still
capable of reviving. But the king deemed not the matter of such
importance as to merit so violent a remedy, He employed some persons to
deal with Perkin, and persuade him, under promise of pardon, to deliver
himself into the king’s hands.[*] The king conducted him in a species of
mock triumph to London. As Perkin passed along the road and through
the streets of the city, men of all ranks flocked about him, and the
populace treated with the highest derision his fallen fortunes. They
seemed desirous of revenging themselves, by their insults, for the shame
which their former belief of his impostures had thrown upon them. Though
the eyes of the nation were generally opened with regard to Perkin’s
real parentage, Henry required of him a confession of his life and
adventures; and he ordered the account of the whole to be dispersed soon
after, for the satisfaction of the public. But as his regard to decency
made him entirely suppress the share which the duchess of Burgundy had
had in contriving and conducting the imposture, the people, who knew
that she had been the chief instrument in the whole affair, were
inclined, on account of the silence on that head, to pay the less credit
to the authenticity of the narrative.
* Polyd. Virg. p. 606.
{1499.} But Perkin, though his life was granted him, was still detained
in custody; and keepers were appointed to guard him. Impatient of
confinement, he broke from his keepers, and flying to the sanctuary of
Shyne, put himself into the hands of the prior of that monastery. The
prior had obtained great credit by his character of sanctity; and he
prevailed on the king again to grant a pardon to Perkin. But in order
to reduce him to still greater contempt, he was set in the stocks at
Westminster and Cheapside, and obliged in both places to read aloud to
the people the confession which had formerly been published in his name.
He was then confined to the Tower, where his habits of restless intrigue
and enterprise followed him. He insinuated himself into the intimacy of
four servants of Sir John Digby, lieutenant of the Tower; and by their
means opened a correspondence with the earl of Warwick, who was confined
in the same prison. This unfortunate prince, who had from his earliest
youth been shut up from the commerce of men, and who was ignorant even
of the most common Affairs of life, had fallen into a simplicity which
made him susceptible of any impression. The continued dread also of the
more violent effects of Henry’s tyranny, joined to the natural love of
liberty, engaged him to embrace a project for his escape, by the murder
of the lieutenant; and Perkin offered to conduct the whole enterprise.
The conspiracy escaped not the king’s vigilance: it was even very
generally believed, that the scheme had been laid by himself, in order
to draw Warwick and Perkin into the snare; but the subsequent execution
of two of Digby’s servants for the contrivance seems to clear the king
of that imputation, which was indeed founded more on the general idea
entertained of his character than on any positive evidence.
Perkin, by this new attempt, after so many enormities, had rendered
himself totally unworthy of mercy; and he was accordingly arraigned,
condemned, and soon after hanged at Tyburn, persisting still in the
confession of his imposture.[*] [1] It happened about that very time
that one Wilford, a cordwainer’s son, encouraged by the surprising
credit given to other impostures, had undertaken to personate the earl
of Warwick; and a priest had even ventured from the pulpit to recommend
his cause to the people, who seemed still to retain a propensity to
adopt it. This incident served Henry as a pretence for his severity
towards that prince. He was brought to trial, and accused, not of
contriving his escape, (for as he was committed for no crime, the desire
of liberty must have been regarded as natural and innocent,) but of
forming designs to disturb the government, and raise an insurrection
among the people. Warwick confessed the indictment was condemned, and
the sentence was executed upon him.
* See note A, at the end of the volume.
This violent act of tyranny, the great blemish of Henry’s reign, by
which he destroyed the last remaining male of the line of Plantagenet,
begat great discontent among the people, who saw an unhappy prince, that
had long been denied all the privileges of his high birth, even been
cut off from the common benefits of nature, now at last deprived of life
itself, merely for attempting to shake off that oppression under which
he labored. In vain did Henry endeavor to alleviate the odium of this
guilt, by sharing it with his ally, Ferdinand of Arragon, who, he said,
had scrupled to give his daughter Catharine in marriage to Arthur while
any male descendant of the house of York remained. Men, on the contrary,
felt higher indignation at seeing a young prince sacrificed, not to
law and justice, but to the jealous politics of two subtle and crafty
tyrants.
But though these discontents festered in the minds of men, they were so
checked by Henry’s watchful policy and steady severity, that they seemed
not to weaken his government; and foreign princes, deeming his
throne now entirely secure, paid him rather the greater deference and
attention. The archduke Philip, in particular, desired an interview with
him; and Henry, who had passed over to Calais, agreed to meet him in
St. Peter’s church, near that city. The archduke, on his approaching the
king, made haste to alight, and offered to hold Henry’s stirrup; a mark
of condescension which that prince would not admit of. He called
the king “father,” “patron,” “protector;” and by his whole behavior
expressed a strong desire of conciliating the friendship of England. The
duke of Orleans had succeeded to the crown of France by the appellation
of Lewis XII.; and having carried his arms into Italy, and subdued the
duchy of Milan, his progress begat jealousy in Maximilian, Philip’s
father, as well as in Ferdinand, his father-in-law. By the counsel,
therefore, of these monarchs, the young prince endeavored by every
art to acquire the amity of Henry, whom they regarded as the chief
counterpoise to the greatness of France. No particular plan, however, of
alliance seems to have been concerted between these two princes in their
interview: all passed in general professions of affection and regard;
at least, in remote projects of a closer union, by the future
intermarriages of their children, who were then in a state of infancy.
{1500.} The Pope, too, Alexander VI., neglected not the friendship of a
monarch whose reputation was spread over Europe. He sent a nuncio
into England, who exhorted the king to take part in the great alliance
projected for the recovery of the Holy Land, and to lead in person his
forces against the infidels. The general frenzy for crusades was now
entirely exhausted in Europe; but it was still thought a necessary piece
of decency to pretend zeal for those pious enterprises. Henry regretted
to the nuncio the distance of his situation, which rendered it
inconvenient for him to expose his person in defence of the Christian
cause. He promised, however, his utmost assistance by aids and
contributions; and rather than the pope should go alone to the holy
wars, unaccompanied by any monarch, he even promised to overlook all
other considerations, and to attend him in person. He only required,
as a necessary condition, that all differences should previously be
adjusted among Christian princes, and that some seaport towns in Italy
should be consigned to him for his retreat and security. It was easy to
conclude that Henry had determined not to intermeddle in any war against
the Turk; but as a great name, without any real assistance, is sometimes
of service, the knights of Rhodes, who were at that time esteemed the
bulwark of Christendom, chose the king protector of their order.
But the prince whose alliance Henry valued the most was Ferdinand of
Arragon, whose vigorous and steady policy, always attended with success,
had rendered him in many respects the most considerable monarch in
Europe. There was also a remarkable similarity of character between
these two princes; both were full of craft, intrigue, and design:
and though a resemblance of this nature be a slender foundation for
confidence and amity, where the interests of the parties in the least
interfere, such was the situation of Henry and Ferdinand, that no
jealousy ever on any occasion arose between them. The king had now the
satisfaction of completing a marriage, which had been projected and
negotiated during the course of seven years, between Arthur, prince
of Wales, and the infanta Catharine, fourth daughter of Ferdinand and
Isabella; he near sixteen years of age, she eighteen. But this marriage
proved in the issue unprosperous. The young prince, a few months after,
sickened and died, much regretted by the nation.
{1502.} Henry, desirous to continue his alliance with Spain, and also
unwilling to restore Catharine’s dowry, which was two hundred thousand
ducats, obliged his second son, Henry, whom he created prince of Wales,
to be contracted to the infanta. The prince made all the opposition
of which a youth of twelve years of age was capable; but as the king
persisted in his resolution, the espousals were at length, by means of
the pope’s dispensation, contracted between the parties; an event which
was afterwards attended with the most important consequences.
The same year another marriage was celebrated, which was also, in the
next age, productive of great events; the marriage of Margaret, the
king’s eldest daughter, with James, king of Scotland. This alliance
had been negotiated during three years, though interrupted by several
broils; and Henry hoped, from the completion of it, to remove all source
of discord with that neighboring kingdom, by whose animosity England
had so often been infested. When this marriage was deliberated on in
the English council, some objected, that England might, by means of
that alliance, fall under the dominion of Scotland. “No,” replied Henry,
“Scotland, in that event, will only become an accession to England.”
{1503.} Amidst these prosperous incidents, the king met with a domestic
calamity, which made not such impression on him as it merited: his queen
died in childbed; and the infant did not long survive her. This princess
was deservedly a favorite of the nation; and the general affection for
her increased, on account of the harsh treatment which it was thought
she met with from her consort.
The situation of the king’s affairs, both at home and abroad, was now in
every respect very fortunate. All the efforts of the European princes,
both in war and negotiation, were turned to the side of Italy; and the
various events which there arose, made Henry’s alliance be courted by
every party, yet interested him so little as never to touch him with
concern or anxiety. His close connections with-Spain and Scotland
insured his tranquillity; and his continued successes over domestic
enemies, owing to the prudence and vigor of his conduct, had reduced the
people to entire submission and obedience. Uncontrolled, therefore,
by apprehension or opposition of any kind, he gave full scope to his
natural propensity; and avarice, which had ever been his ruling passion
being increased by age and encouraged by absolute authority broke all
restraints of shame or justice. He had found two ministers Empson and
Dudley, perfectly qualified to second his rapacious and tyrannical
inclinations, and to prey upon his defenceless people. These instruments
of oppression were both lawyers; the first of mean birth, of brutal
manners, of an unrelenting temper; the second better born, better
educated, and better bred, but equally unjust, severe, and inflexible.
By their knowledge in law, these men were qualified to pervert the
forms of justice to the oppression of the innocent; and the formidable
authority of the king supported them in all their iniquities.
It was their usual practice, at first, to observe so far the appearance
of law as to give indictments to those whom they intended to oppress;
upon which the persons were committed to prison, but never brought to
trial; and were at length obliged, in order to recover their liberty,
to pay heavy fines and ransoms, which were called mitigations and
compositions. By degrees, the very appearance of law was neglected: the
two ministers sent forth their precepts to attach men, and summon them
before themselves and some others, at their private houses, in a court
of commission, where, in a summary manner, without trial or jury,
arbitrary decrees were issued, both in pleas of the crown and
controversies between private parties. Juries themselves, when summoned,
proved but small security to the subject; being browbeaten by these
oppressors; nay, fined, imprisoned, and punished, if they gave sentence
against the inclination of the ministers The whole system of the feudal
law, which still prevailed, was turned into a scheme of oppression. Even
the king’s wards, after they came of age, were not suffered to enter
into possession of their lands without paying exorbitant fines. Men
were also harassed with informations of intrusion upon scarce colorable
titles. When an outlawry in a personal action was issued against any
man, he was not allowed to purchase his charter of pardon, except on the
payment of a great sum; and if he refused the composition required of
him, the strict law, which in such cases allows forfeiture of goods, was
rigorously insisted on. Nay, without any color of law, the half of men’s
lands and rents were seized during two years, as a penalty in case of
outlawry. But the chief means of oppression employed by these ministers
were the penal statutes, which, without consideration of rank, quality,
or services, were rigidly put in execution against all men: spies,
informers, and inquisitors were rewarded and encouraged in every quarter
of the kingdom: and no difference was made, whether the statute were
beneficial or hurtful, recent or obsolete, possible or impossible to be
executed. The sole end of the king and his ministers was to amass money,
and bring every one under the lash of their authority.[*]
Through the prevalence of such an arbitrary and iniquitous
administration, the English, it may safely be affirmed, were
considerable losers by their ancient privileges, which secured them
from all taxations, except such as were imposed by their own consent
in parliament. Had the king been empowered to levy general taxes at
pleasure, he would naturally have abstained from these oppressive
expedients, which destroyed all security in private property, and begat
a universal diffidence throughout the nation. In vain did the people
look for protection from the parliament, which was pretty frequently
summoned during this reign.
{1504.} That assembly was so overawed, that at this very time, during
the greatest rage of Henry’s oppressions, the commons chose Dudley their
speaker, the very man who was the chief instrument of his iniquities.
And though the king was known to be immensely opulent, and had no
pretence of wars or expensive enterprises of any kind, they granted him
the subsidy which he demanded. But so insatiable was his avarice, that
next year he levied a new benevolence, and renewed that arbitrary and
oppressive method of taxation.
{1505.} By all these arts of accumulation, joined to a rigid frugality
in his expense, he so filled his coffers, that he is said to have
possessed in ready money the sum of one million eight hundred thousand
pounds; a treasure almost incredible, if we consider the scarcity of
money in those times.[**]
* Bacon, p. 629, 630. Holingshed, p. 504. Polyd. Virg. p.
613, 615.
** Silver was during this reign at thirty-seven shillings
and six pence a pound, which makes Henry’s treasure near
three millions of our present money. Besides, many
commodities have become above thrice as dear by the increase
of gold and silver in Europe. And what is a circumstance of
still greater weight, all other states were then very poor,
in comparison of what they are at present. These
circumstances make Henry’s treasure appear very great, and
may lead us to conceive the oppressions of his government.
But while Henry was enriching himself by the spoils of his oppressed
people, there happened an event abroad which engaged his attention,
and was even the object of his anxiety and concern: Isabella, queen of
Castile, died about this time and it was foreseen that by this incident
the fortunes of Ferdinand, her husband, would be much affected. The king
was not only attentive to the fate of his ally, and watchful lest the
general system of Europe should be affected by so important an event;
he also considered the similarity of his own situation with that of
Ferdinand, and regarded the issue of these transactions as a precedent
for himself. Joan, the daughter of Ferdinand by Isabella, was married to
the archduke Philip, and being, in right of her mother, heir of Castile,
seemed entitled to dispute with Ferdinand the present possession of that
kingdom. Henry knew that, notwithstanding his own pretensions by the
house of Lancaster, the greater part of the nation was convinced of
the superiority of his wife’s title; and he dreaded lest the prince
of Wales, who was daily advancing towards manhood, might be tempted by
ambition to lay immediate claim to the crown. By his perpetual attention
to depress the partisans of the York family, he had more closely united
them into one party, and increased their desire of shaking off that
yoke under which they had so long labored, and of taking every advantage
which his oppressive government should give his enemies against him.
And as he possessed no independent force like Ferdinand, and governed
a kingdom more turbulent and unruly, which he himself by his narrow
politics had confirmed in factious prejudices, he apprehended that his
situation would prove in the issue still more precarious.
Nothing at first could turn out more contrary to the king’s wishes than
the transactions in Spain. Ferdinand, as well as Henry, had become very
unpopular, and from a like cause, his former exactions and impositions;
and the states of Castile discovered an evident resolution of preferring
the title of Philip and Joan.
{1506.} In order, to take advantage of these favorable dispositions, the
archduke, now king of Castile, attended by his consort, embarked for
Spain during the winter season; but meeting with a violent tempest in
the Channel, was obliged to take shelter in the harbor of Weymouth. Sir
John Trenchard, a gentleman of authority in the county of Dorset,
hearing of a fleet upon the coast, had assembled some forces; and being
joined by Sir John Cary, who was also at the head of an armed body, he
came to that town. Finding that Philip, in order to relieve his sickness
and fatigue, was already come ashore, he invited him to his house; and
immediately despatched a messenger to inform the court of this important
incident. The king sent in all haste the earl of Arundel to compliment
Philip on his arrival in England, and to inform him that he intended to
pay him a visit in person, and to give him a suitable reception in his
dominions. Philip knew that he could not now depart without the king’s
consent; and therefore, for the sake of despatch, he resolved to
anticipate his visit, and to have an interview with him at Windsor.
Henry received him with all the magnificence possible, and with all the
seeming cordiality; but he resolved, notwithstanding, to draw some
advantage from this involuntary visit paid him by his royal guest.
Edmond de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, nephew to Edward IV. and brother to
the earl of Lincoln, slain in the battle of Stoke, had some years before
killed a man in a sudden fit of passion, and had been obliged to apply
to the king for a remission of the crime. The king had granted his
request; but, being little indulgent to all persons connected with the
house of York, he obliged him to appear openly in court and plead his
pardon. Suffolk, more resenting the affront than grateful for the favor,
had fled into Flanders, and taken shelter with his aunt, the duchess
of Burgundy; but being promised forgiveness by the king, he returned to
England, and obtained a new pardon. Actuated, however, by the natural
inquietude of his temper and uneasy from debts which he had contracted
by his great expense at Prince Arthur’s wedding, he again made an
elopement into Flanders. The king, well acquainted with the general
discontent which prevailed against his administration neglected not this
incident, which might become of importance, and he employed his usual
artifices to elude the efforts of his enemies. He directed Sir Robert
Curson, governor of the castle of Hammes, to desert his charge, and to
insinuate himself into the confidence of Suffolk, by making him a tender
of his services. Upon information secretly conveyed by Curson, the
king seized William Courtney, eldest son to the earl of Devonshire, and
married to the lady Catharine, sister of the queen; William de la Pole,
brother to the earl of Suffolk; Sir James Tyrrel, and Sir James Windham,
with some persons of inferior quality; and he committed them to custody.
Lord Abergavenny and Sir Thomas Green were also apprehended; but were
soon after released from their confinement. William de la Pole was long
detained in prison: Courtney was attainted, and, though not executed, he
recovered not his liberty during the king’s lifetime. But Henry’s chief
severity fell upon Sir James Windham and Sir James Tyrrel, who were
brought to their trial, condemned, and executed: the fate of the latter
gave general satisfaction, on account of his participation in the murder
of the young princes, sons of Edward IV. Notwithstanding these
discoveries and executions, Curson was still able to maintain his credit
with the earl of Suffolk: Henry, in order to remove all suspicion, had
ordered him to be excommunicated, together with Suffolk himself, for his
pretended rebellion. But after that traitor had performed all the
services expected from him, he suddenly deserted the earl, and came over
to England, where the king received him with unusual marks of favor and
confidence. Suffolk, astonished at this instance of perfidy, finding
that even the duchess of Burgundy, tired with so many fruitless
attempts, had become indifferent to his cause, fled secretly into
France, thence into Germany, and returned at last into the Low
Countries; where he was protected, though not countenanced, by Philip,
then in close alliance with the king.
Henry neglected not the present opportunity of complaining to his guest
of the reception which Suffolk had met with in his dominions. “I really
thought,” replied the king of Castile, “that your greatness and felicity
had set you far above apprehensions from any person of so little
consequence: but, to give you satisfaction, I shall banish him my
state.” “I expect that you will carry your complaisance further,” said
the king; “I desire to have Suffolk put into my hands, where alone I can
depend upon his submission and obedience.” “That measure,” said Philip,
“will reflect dishonor upon you as well as myself. You will be thought
to have treated me as a prisoner.” “Then the matter is at an end,”
replied the king; “for I will take that dishonor upon me; and so your
honor is saved.”[*] The king of Castile found himself under a necessity
of complying; but he first exacted Henry’s promise that he would spare
Suffolk’s life. That nobleman was invited over to England by Philip; as
if the king would grant him a pardon, on the intercession of his friend
and ally. Upon his appearance, he was committed to the Tower; and
the king of Castile, having fully satisfied Henry, as well by this
concession as by signing a treaty of commerce between England and
Castile, which was advantageous to the former kingdom,[*] was at last
allowed to depart, after a stay of three months.
* Bacon, p. 633.
** Rymer, vol. xiii. p. 142.
He landed in Spain, was joyfully received by the Castilians, and pit in
possession of the throne.
{1507.} He died soon after; and Joan, his widow, falling into deep
melancholy Ferdinand was again enabled to reinstate himself in
authority, and to govern, till the day of his death, the whole Spanish
monarchy.
The king survived these transactions two years; but nothing memorable
occurs in the remaining part of his reign, except his affiancing his
second daughter, Mary, to the young archduke Charles, son of Philip of
Castile.
{1508.} He entertained also some intentions of marriage for himself,
first with the queen dowager of Naples, relict of Ferdinand; afterwards
with the duchess dowager of Savoy, daughter of Maximilian, and sister of
Philip. But the decline of his health put an end to all such thoughts;
and he began to cast his eye towards that future existence which the
iniquities and severities of his reign rendered a very dismal prospect
to him. To allay the terrors under which he labored, he endeavored, by
distributing alms and founding religious houses, to make atonement for
his crimes, and to purchase, by the sacrifice of part of his ill-gotten
treasures, a reconciliation with his offended Maker. Remorse even seized
him at intervals for the abuse of his authority by Empson and Dudley;
but not sufficient to make him stop the rapacious hand of those
oppressors. Sir William Capel was again fined two thousand pounds under
some frivolous pretence, and was committed to the Tower for daring
to murmur against the iniquity. Harris, an alderman of London, was
indicted, and died of vexation before his trial came to an issue.
Sir Laurence Ailmer, who had been mayor, and his two sheriffs, were
condemned in heavy fines, and sent to prison till they made payment.
The king gave countenance to all these oppressions; till death, by its
nearer approaches, impressed new terrors upon him; and he then ordered,
by a general clause in his will, that restitution should be made to
all those whom he had injured.
{1509.} He died of a consumption at his favorite palace of Richmond,
after a reign of twenty-three years and eight months, and in the
fifty-second year of his age.[*]
* Dagd. Baronage, ii. p. 237.
The reign of Henry VII. was, in the main, fortunate for his people at
home, and honorable abroad. He put an end to the civil wars with which
the nation had long been harassed, he maintained peace and order in the
state, he depressed the former exorbitant power of the nobility, and,
together with the friendship of some foreign princes, he acquired the
consideration and regard of all. He loved peace without fearing war
though agitated with continual suspicions of his servants and ministers,
he discovered no timidity, either in the conduct of his affairs, or in
the day of battle; and though often severe in his punishments, he was
commonly less actuated by revenge than by maxims of policy. The services
which he rendered the people were derived from his views of private
advantage, rather than the motives of public spirit; and where he
deviated from interested regards, it was unknown to himself, and ever
from the malignant prejudices of faction, or the mean projects of
avarice; not from the sallies of passion, or allurements of pleasure;
still less from the benign motives of friendship and generosity. His
capacity was excellent, but somewhat contracted by the narrowness of his
heart; he possessed insinuation and address, but never employed these
talents, except where some great point of interest was to be gained; and
while he neglected to conciliate the affections of his people, he often
felt the danger of resting his authority on their fear and reverence
alone. He was always extremely attentive to his affairs; but possessed
not the faculty of seeing far into futurity; and was more expert at
providing a remedy for his mistakes than judicious in avoiding them.
Avarice was, on the whole, his ruling passion;[*] and he remains an
instance, almost singular, of a man placed hi a high station,
and possessed of talents for great affairs, in whom that passion
pre-dominated above ambition. Even among private persons, avarice is
commonly nothing but a species of ambition, and is chiefly incited
by the prospect of that regard, distinction, and consideration, which
attend on riches.
* As a proof of Henry’s attention to the smallest profits,
Bacon tells us, that he had seen a book of accounts kept by
Empson, and subscribed in almost every leaf by the king’s
own hand. Among other articles was the following: “Item.
Received of such a one five marks for a pardon, which if it
do not pass, the money to be repaid, or the party otherwise
satisfied.” Opposite to the memorandum, the king had writ
with his own hand, “Otherwise satisfied.” Bacon, p. 630.
The power of the kings of England had always been somewhat irregular
or discretionary; but was scarcely ever so absolute during any former
reign, at least after the establishment of the Great Charter, as during
that of Henry Besides the advantages derived from the personal character
of the man, full of vigor, industry, and severity, deliberate in all
projects, steady in every purpose, and attended with caution as well as
good fortune in every enterprise; he came to the throne after long and
bloody civil wars, which had destroyed all the great nobility, who alone
could resist the encroachments of his authority; the people were
tired with discord and intestine convulsions, and willing to submit to
usurpations, and even to injuries, rather than plunge themselves anew
into like miseries: the fruitless efforts made against him served
always, as is usual, to confirm his authority: as he ruled by a faction,
and the lesser faction, all those on whom he conferred offices, sensible
that they owed every thing to his protection, were willing to support
his power, though at the expense of justice and national privileges.
These seem the chief causes which at this time bestowed on the crown so
considerable an addition of prerogative, and rendered the present reign
a kind of epoch in the English constitution.
This prince, though he exalted his prerogative above law is celebrated
by his historian for many good laws, which he made be enacted for the
government of his subjects. Several considerable regulations, indeed,
are found among the statutes of this reign, both with regard to the
police of the kingdom, and its commerce: but the former are generally
contrived with much better judgment than the latter. The more simple
ideas of order and equity are sufficient to guide a legislator in every
thing that regards the internal administration of justice: but the
principles of commerce are much more complicated, and require long
experience and deep reflection to be well understood in any state. The
real consequence of a law or practice is there often contrary to first
appearances. No wonder that during the reign of Henry VII.[*,] these
matters were frequently mistaken; and it may safely be affirmed, that
even in the age of Lord Bacon, very imperfect and erroneous ideas were
formed on that subject.
Early in Henry’s reign, the authority of the star chamber, which was
before founded on common law and ancient practice, was in some cases
confirmed by act of parliament: [*] [2] Lord Bacon extols the utility of
this court; but men began even during the age of that historian, to feel
that so arbitrary a jurisdiction was incompatible with liberty; and
in proportion as the spirit of independence still rose higher in the
nation, the aversion to it increased, till it was entirely abolished
by act of parliament in the reign of Charles I., a little before the
commencement of the civil wars.
* See note B, at the end of the volume.
Laws were passed in this reign, ordaining the king’s suit for murder to
be carried on within a year and a day.[*] Formerly it did not usually
commence till after; and as the friends of the person murdered often in
the interval compounded matters with the criminal, the crime frequently
passed unpunished. Suits were given to the poor “in forma pauperis,” as
it is called; that is, without paying dues for the writs, or any fees to
the council:[**] a good law at all times, especially in that age,
when the people labored under the oppression of the great; but a law
difficult to be carried into execution. A law was made against carrying
off any woman by force.[***] The benefit of clergy was abridged;[****]
and the criminal, on the first offence, was ordered to be burned in
the hand with a letter denoting his crime; after which he was punished
capitally for any new offence. Sheriffs were no longer allowed to fine
any person, without previously summoning him before their court.[v] It
is strange that such a practice should ever have prevailed. Attaint of
juries was granted in cases which exceeded forty pounds’ value; [v*] a
law which has an appearance of equity, but which was afterwards found
inconvenient. Actions popular were not allowed to be eluded by fraud or
covin. If any servant of the king’s conspired against the life of the
steward, treasurer, or comptroller of the king’s household, this design,
though not followed by any overt act, was made liable to the punishment
of felony.[v**] This statute was enacted for the security of Archbishop
Morton, who found himself exposed to the enmity of great numbers.
There scarcely passed any session during this reign without some statute
against engaging retainers, and giving them badges or liveries; [v***]
a practice by which they were in a manner enlisted under some great lord
and were kept in readiness to assist him in all wars, insurrections,
riots, violences, and even in bearing evidence for him in courts of
justice.[v****]
* 3 Henry VII. cap. 1.
** 11 Henry VII. cap. 12.
*** 3 Henry VII. cap. 2.
**** 4 Henry VII. cap. 13.
v 11 Henry VII. cap. 15.
v* 11 Henry VII. cap. 24.
v** 19 Henry VII. cap. 3.
v*** 3 Henry VII. cap 13.
v**** 3 Henry VII. cap 1 and 12.
This disorder, which had prevailed during many reigns, when the law
could give little protection to the subject, was then deeply rooted
in England; and it required all the vigilance and rigor of Henry to
extirpate it. There is a story of his severity against this abuse; and
it seems to merit praise, though it is commonly cited as an instance of
his avarice and rapacity. The earl of Oxford, his favorite general, in
whom he always placed great and deserved confidence, having splendidly
entertained him at his castle of Heningham, was desirous of making a
parade of his magnificence at the departure of his royal guest, and
ordered all his retainers, with their liveries and badges, to be drawn
up in two lines, that their appearance might be the more gallant
and splendid. “My lord,” said the king, “I have heard much of your
hospitality, but the truth far exceeds the report. These handsome
gentlemen and yeomen, whom I see on both sides of me, are no doubt your
menial servants.” The earl smiled, and confessed that his fortune was
too narrow for such magnificence. “They are most of them,” subjoined
he, “my retainers, who are come to do me service at this time, when
they know I am honored with your majesty’s presence.” The king started
a little, and said, “By my faith, my lord, I thank you for your good
cheer, but I must not allow my laws to be broken in my sight. My
attorney must speak with you.” Oxford is said to have paid no less than
fifteen thousand marks, as a composition for his offence.
The increase of the arts, more effectually than all the severities of
law, put an end to this pernicious practice. The nobility, instead of
vying with each other in the number and boldness of their retainers,
acquired by degrees a more civilized species of emulation, and
endeavored to excel in the splendor and elegance of their equipage,
houses, and tables. The common people, no longer maintained in vicious
idleness by their superiors, were obliged to learn some calling or
industry, and became useful both to themselves and to others. And it
must be acknowledged, in spite of those who declaim so violently against
refinement in the arts, or what they are pleased to call luxury, that,
as much as an industrious tradesman is both a better man and a better
citizen than one of those idle retainers who formerly depended on the
great families, so much is the life of a modern nobleman more laudable
than that of an ancient baron.[*]
But the most important law, in its consequences, which was enacted
during the reign of Henry, was that by which the nobility and gentry
acquired a power of breaking the ancient entails, and of alienating
their estates.[*] By means of this law, joined to the beginning luxury
and refinements of the age, the great fortunes of the barons were
gradually dissipated, and the property of the commons increased
in England. It is probable that Henry foresaw and intended this
consequence; because the constant scheme of his policy consisted in
depressing the great, and exalting churchmen, lawyers, and men of new
families, who were more dependent on him.
This king’s love of money naturally led him to encourage commerce, which
increased his customs; but, if we may judge by most of the laws enacted
during his reign, trade and industry were rather hurt than promoted
by the care and attention given to them. Severe laws were made against
taking interest for money, which was then denominated usury.[*] [3] Even
the profits of exchange were prohibited, as savoring of usury,[**] which
the superstition of the age zealously proscribed. All evasive contracts,
by which profits could be made from the loan of money, were also
carefully guarded against.[***] It is needless to observe how
unreasonable and iniquitous these laws, how impossible to be executed,
and how hurtful to trade, if they could take place. We may observe,
however, to the praise of this king, that sometimes, in order to promote
commerce, he lent to merchants sums of money without interest, when he
knew that their stock was not sufficient for those enterprises which
they had in view.[****]
Laws were made against the exportation of money, plate, or bullion:
[v] a precaution which serves to no other purpose than to make more be
exported.
* See note C, at the end of the volume.
** 4 Henry VII. cap. 24. The practice of breaking entails by
means of a fine and recovery was introduced in the reign of
Edward IV.: but it was not, properly speaking, law, till the
statute of Henry VII.; which, by correcting some abuses that
attended that practice, gave indirectly a sanction to it.
*** 3 Henry VII. cap. 5.
**** 3 Henry VII. cap. 6.
v 7 Henry VII. cap. 8.
But so far was the anxiety on this head carried, that merchants alien,
who imported commodities into the kingdom, were obliged to invest in
English commodities all the money acquired by their sales, in order to
prevent their conveying it away in a clandestine manner.[*]
It was prohibited to export horses; as if that exportation did not
encourage the breed, and render them more plentiful in the kingdom.[**]
In order to promote archery, no bows were to be sold at a higher
price than six shillings and fourpence,[***] reducing money to the
denomination of our time. The only effect of this regulation must be,
either that the people would be supplied with bad bows, or none at all.
Prices were also affixed to woollen cloth,[****] to caps and hats:[v]
and the wages of laborers were regulated by law.[v*] It is evident,
that these matters ought always to be left free, and be intrusted to
the common course of business and commerce. To some it may appear
surprising, that the price of a yard of scarlet cloth should be limited
to six and twenty shillings, money of our age; that of a yard of colored
cloth to eighteen; higher prices than these commodities bear at present;
and that the wages of a tradesman, such as a mason, bricklayer, tiler,
etc., should be regulated at near tenpence a day; which is not much
inferior to the present wages given in some parts of England. Labor and
commodities have certainly risen since the discovery of the West Indies;
but not so much in every particular as is generally imagined. The
greater industry of the present times has increased the number of
tradesmen and laborers, so as to keep wages nearer a par than could be
expected from the great increase of gold and silver. And the additional
art employed in the finer manufactures has even made some of these
commodities fall below their former value. Not to mention, that
merchants and dealers, being contented with less profit than formerly,
afford the goods cheaper to their customers. It appears by a statute of
this reign,[v**] that goods bought for sixteenpence would sometimes be
sold by the merchants for three shillings.
* 3 Henry VII cap. 8.
** 11 Henry VII. cap. 13.
*** 3 Henry VII. cap. 12.
**** 4 Henry VII. cap. 8.
v 4 Henry VII. cap. 9.
v* 11 Henry VII. cap. 22.
v** 4 Henry VII. cap. 9.
The commodities whose price has chiefly risen, are butcher’s meat, fowl,
and fish, (especially the latter,) which cannot be much augmented in
quantity by the increase of art and industry. The profession which then
abounded most, and was sometimes embraced by persons of the lowest rank,
was the church: by a clause of a statute, all clerks or students of
the university were forbidden to beg, without a permission from the
vice-chancellor.[*]
One great cause of the low state of industry during this period, was the
restraints put upon it; and the parliament, or rather the king, (for
he was the prime mover in every thing,) enlarged a little some of these
limitations; but not to the degree that was requisite. A law had been
enacted during the reign of Henry IV.,[**] that no man could bind his
son or daughter to an apprenticeship, unless he were possessed of
twenty shillings a year in land; and Henry VII., because the decay
of manufactures was complained of in Norwich from the want of hands,
exempted that city from the penalties of the law.[***] Afterwards the
whole county of Norfolk obtained a like exemption with regard to some
branches of the woollen manufacture.[****] These absurd limitations
proceeded from a desire of promoting husbandry, which, however, is never
more effectually encouraged than by the increase of manufactures. For a
like reason, the law enacted against enclosures, and for the keeping up
of farm houses,[v] scarcely deserves the high praises bestowed on it by
Lord Bacon. If husbandmen understand agriculture, and have a ready vent
for their commodities, we need not dread a diminution of the people
employed in the country. All methods of supporting populousness, except
by the interest of the proprietors, are violent and ineffectual. During
a century and a half after this period, there was a frequent renewal of
laws and edicts against depopulation; whence we may infer, that none
of them were ever executed. The natural course of improvement at last
provided a remedy.
* 11 Henry VII. cap. 22.
** 11 Henry VII. cap. 11.
*** 4 Henry VII. cap. 19.
**** 4 Henry VII. cap. 17.
v 12 Henry VII. cap. 1.
One check to industry in England was the erecting of corporations;
an abuse which is not yet entirely corrected. A law was enacted, that
corporations should not pass any by-laws without the consent of three of
the chief officers of state.[*] They were prohibited from imposing tolls
at their [**] The cities of Glocester and Worcester had even imposed
tolls on the Severn, which were abolished.[***]
There is a law of this reign,[****] containing a preamble, by which
it appears, that the company of merchant adventurers in London had, by
their own authority, debarred all the other merchants of the kingdom
from trading to the great marts in the Low Countries, unless each trader
previously paid them the sum of near seventy pounds. It is surprising
that such a by-law (if it deserve the name) could ever be carried into
execution, and that the authority of parliament should be requisite to
abrogate it.
It was during this reign, on the second of August, 1492, a little before
sunset, that Christopher Columbus, a Genoese, set out from Spain on his
memorable voyage for the discovery of the western world; and a few years
after, Vasquez de Gama, a Portuguese, passed the Cape of Good Hope,
and opened a new passage to the East Indies. These great events were
attended with important consequences to all the nations of Europe, even
to such as were not immediately concerned in those naval enterprises.
The enlargement of commerce and navigation increased industry and the
arts every where; the nobles dissipated their fortunes in expensive
pleasures: men of an inferior rank both acquired a share in the landed
property, and created to themselves a considerable property of a new
kind, in stock, commodities, art, credit, and correspondence. In some
nations, the privileges of the commons increased by this increase of
property: in most nations, the kings, finding arms to be dropped by the
barons, who could no longer endure their former rude manner of life,
established standing armies, and subdued the liberties of their
kingdoms: but in all places, the condition of the people, from the
depression of the petty tyrants by whom they had formerly been oppressed
rather than governed, received great improvement, and they acquired, if
not entire liberty, at least the most considerable advantages of it. And
as the general course of events thus tended to depress the nobles and
exalt the people, Henry VII., who also embraced that system of policy,
has acquired more praise than his institutions, strictly speaking, seem
of themselves to deserve on account of any profound wisdom attending
them.
* 19 Henry VII. cap. 7 gates.
** 19 Henry VII. cap. 8.
*** 10 Henry VII. cap. 18.
**** 12 Henry VII. cap. 6.
It was by accident only that the king had not a considerable share in
those great naval discoveries, by which the present age was so much
distinguished. Columbus, after meeting with many repulses from the
courts of Portugal and Spain sent his brother Bartholomew to London, in
order to explain his projects to Henry, and crave his protection for
the execution of them. The king invited him over to England; but
his brother, being taken by pirates, was detained in his voyage; and
Columbus, meanwhile, having obtained the countenance of Isabella, was
supplied with a small fleet, and happily executed his enterprise. Henry
was not discouraged by this disappointment: he fitted out Sebastian
Cabot, a Venetian, settled in Bristol, and sent him westwards in 1498,
in search of new countries. Cabot discovered the main land of America
towards the sixtieth degree of northern latitude: he sailed southwards
along the coast, and discovered Newfoundland and other countries; but
returned to England without making any conquest or settlement. Elliot
and other merchants in Bristol made a like attempt in 1502.[*] The king
expended fourteen thousand pounds in building one ship, called the Great
Harry.[**] She was, properly speaking, the first ship in the English
navy. Before this period, when the prince wanted a fleet, he had no
other expedient than hiring or pressing ships from the merchants.
* Rymer, vol. xiii. p. 37.
** Stowe, p. 484.
But though this improvement of navigation, and the discovery of both the
Indies, was the most memorable incident that happened during this or
any other period, it was not the only great event by which the age was
distinguished. In 1453, Constantinople was taken by the Turks; and the
Greeks, among whom some remains of learning were still preserved, being
scattered by these barbarians, took shelter in Italy, and imported,
together with their admirable language, a tincture of their science, and
of their refined taste in poetry and eloquence About the same time, the
purity of the Latin tongue was revived, the study of antiquity became
fashionable, and the esteem for literature gradually propagated itself
throughout every nation in Europe. The art of printing, invented about
that time, extremely facilitated the progress of all these improvements:
the invention of gunpowder changed me whole art of war: mighty
innovations were soon after made in religion, such as not only affected
those states that embraced them, but even those that adhered to the
ancient faith and worship; and thus a general revolution was made in
human affairs throughout this part of the world; and men gradually
attained that situation, with regard to commerce, arts, science,
government, police, and cultivation, in which they have ever since
persevered. Here, therefore, commences the useful, as well as the
more agreeable part of modern annals; certainty has place in all the
considerable, and even most of the minute parts of historical narration;
a great variety of events, preserved by printing, give the author the
power of selecting, as well as adorning, the facts which he relates; and
as each incident has a reference to our present manners and situation,
instructive lessons occur every moment during the course of the
narration. Whoever carries his anxious researches into preceding
periods, is moved by a curiosity, liberal indeed and commendable; not by
any necessity for acquiring knowledge of public affairs, or the arts of
civil government.
CHAPTER XXVII.
HENRY VIII.
{1509.} THE death of Henry VII. had been attended with as open and
visible a joy among the people as decency would permit; and the
accession and coronation of his son, Henry VIII., spread universally
a declared and unfeigned satisfaction. Instead of a monarch jealous,
severe, and avaricious, who, in proportion as he advanced in years,
was sinking still deeper in those unpopular vices, a young prince of
eighteen had succeeded to the throne, who, even in the eyes of men of
sense, gave promising hopes of his future conduct, much more in those of
the people, always enchanted with novelty, youth, and royal dignity.
The beauty and vigor of his person, accompanied with dexterity in
every manly exercise, was further adorned with a blooming and ruddy
countenance, with a lively air, with the appearance of spirit and
activity in all his demeanor.[*] His father, in order to remove him from
the knowledge of public business, had hitherto occupied him entirely in
the pursuits of literature; and the proficiency which he made gave
no bad prognostic of his parts and capacity.[**] Even the vices of
vehemence, ardor, and impatience, to which he was subject, and which
afterwards degenerated into tyranny, were considered only as faults
incident to unguarded youth, which would be corrected when time had
brought him to greater moderation and maturity. And as the contending
titles of York and Lancaster were now at last fully united in his
person, men justly expected, from a prince obnoxious to no party, that
impartiality of administration which had long been unknown in England.
* T. Mori. Lucubr. p. 182.
** Father Paul, lib. i.
These favorable prepossessions of the public were encouraged by the
measures which Henry embraced in the commencement of his reign. His
grandmother, the countess of Richmond and Derby, was still alive; and
as she was a woman much celebrated for prudence and virtue, he wisely
showed great deference to her opinion in the establishment of his
new council. The members were, Warham, archbishop of Canterbury and
chancellor; the earl of Shrewsbury, steward; Lord Herbert, chamberlain;
Sir Thomas Lovel, master of the wards and constable of the Tower; Sir
Edward Poynings, comptroller; Sir Henry Marney, afterwards Lord Marney;
Sir Thomas Darcy, afterwards Lord Darcy; Thomas Ruthal, doctor of laws;
and Sir Henry Wyat.[*] These men had long been accustomed to business
under the late king, and were the least unpopular of all the ministers
employed by that monarch. But the chief competitors for favor and
authority, under the new king, were the earl of Surrey, treasurer, and
Fox, bishop of Winchester, secretary and privy seal. This prelate, who
enjoyed great credit during all the former reign, had acquired such
habits of caution and frugality as he could not easily lay aside; and
he still opposed, by his remonstrances, those schemes of dissipation
and expense, which the youth and passions of Henry rendered agreeable to
him. But Surrey was a more dexterous courtier; and though few had borne
a greater share in the frugal politics of the late king, he knew how
to conform himself to the humor of his new master; and no one was so
forward in promoting that liberality, pleasure, and magnificence,
which began to prevail under the young monarch.[**] By this policy, he
ingratiated himself with Henry; he made advantage, as well as the other
courtiers, of the lavish disposition of his master; and he engaged
him in such a course of play and idleness as rendered him negligent of
affairs, and willing to intrust the government of the state entirely
into the hands of his ministers. The great treasures amassed by the late
king were gradually dissipated in the giddy expenses of Henry. One party
of pleasure succeeded to another: tilts, tournaments, and carousals
were exhibited with all the magnificence of the age; and as the present
tranquillity of the public permitted the court to indulge itself in
every amusement, serious business was but little attended to. Or, if
the king intermitted the course of his festivity, he chiefly employed
himself in an application to music and literature, which were his
favorite pursuits, and which were well adapted to his genius.
* Herbert, Stowe, p. 486. Holingshed, p. 799.
** Lord Herbert.
He had made such proficiency in the former art, as even to compose
some pieces of church music, which were sung in his chapel.[*] He was
initiated in the elegant learning of the ancients. And though he was so
unfortunate as to be seduced into a study of the barren controversies of
the schools, which were then fashionable, and had chosen Thomas Aquinas
for his favorite author, he still discovered a capacity fitted for more
useful and entertaining knowledge.
The frank and careless humor of the king, as it led him to dissipate the
treasures amassed by his father, rendered him negligent in protecting
the instruments whom that prince had employed in his extortions. A
proclamation being issued to encourage complaints, the rage of the
people was let loose on all informers, who had so long exercised an
unbounded tyranny over the nation: [**] they were thrown into prison,
condemned to the pillory, and most of them lost their lives by the
violence of the populace. Empson and Dudley, who were most exposed to
public hatred, were immediately summoned before the council, in order to
answer for their conduct, which had rendered them so obnoxious.
* Lord Herbert.
** Herbert, Stowe, p. 486. Holingshed, p. 799. Polyd. Virg.
lib, xxvii.
Empson made a shrewd apology for himself, as well as for his associate.
He told the council, that so far from his being justly exposed to
censure for his past conduct, his enemies themselves grounded their
clamor on actions which seemed rather to merit reward and approbation:
that a strict execution of law was the crime of which he and Dudley were
accused; though that law had been established by general consent,
and though they had acted in obedience to the king, to whom the
administration of justice was intrusted by the constitution: that it
belonged not to them, who were instruments in the hands of supreme
power, to determine what laws were recent or obsolete, expedient or
hurtful; since they were all alike valid, so long as they remained
unrepealed by the legislature: that it was natural for a licentious
populace to murmur against the restraints of authority; but all wise
states had ever made their glory consist in the just distribution of
rewards and punishments, and had annexed the former to the observance
and enforcement of the laws, the latter to their violation and
infraction; and that a sudden overthrow of all government might be
expected where the judges were committed to the mercy of the criminals,
the rulers to that of the subjects.[*]
Notwithstanding this defence, Empson and Dudley were sent to the Tower,
and soon after brought to their trial. The strict execution of laws,
however obsolete, could never be imputed to them as a crime in a court
of judicature; and it is likely that, even where they had exercised
arbitrary power, the king, as they had acted by the secret commands of
his father, was not willing that their conduct should undergo too
severe a scrutiny. In order, therefore, to gratify the people with
the punishment of these obnoxious ministers crimes very improbable,
or indeed absolutely impossible, were charged upon them: that they had
entered into a conspiracy against the sovereign, and had intended, on
the death of the late king, to have seized by force the administration
of government. The jury were so far moved by popular prejudices,
joined to court influence, as to give a verdict against them; which was
afterwards confirmed by a bill of attainder in parliament,[**] and, at
the earnest desire of the people, was executed by warrant from the king,
Thus, in those arbitrary times, justice was equally violated, whether
the king sought power and riches, or courted popularity.
* Herbert, Holingshed, p. 804.
** This parliament met on the 21st January, 1510. A law was
there enacted, in order to prevent some abuses which had
prevailed during the late reign. The forfeiture upon the
penal statutes was reduced to the term of three years. Costs
and damages were given against informers upon acquittal of
the accused: more severe punishments were enacted against
perjury: the false inquisitions procured by Empson and
Dudley were declared null and invalid. Traverses were
allowed; and the time of tendering them enlarged. 1 Henry
VIII. c. 8, 10, 11, 12.
Henry, while he punished the instruments of past tyranny, had yet such a
deference to former engagements as to deliberate, immediately after his
accession, concerning the celebration of his marriage with the infanta
Catharine, to whom he had been affianced during his father’s lifetime.
Her former marriage with his brother, and the inequality of their years
were the chief objections urged; against his espousing her but, on the
other hand, the advantages of her known virtue, modesty, and sweetness
of disposition were insisted on; the affection which she bore to the
king; the large dowry to which she was entitled as princess of Wales;
the interest of cementing a close alliance with Spain; the necessity
of finding some confederate to counterbalance the power of France; the
expediency of fulfilling the engagements of the late king When these
considerations were weighed, they determined the council, though
contrary to the opinion of the primate, to give Henry their advice for
celebrating the marriage. The countess of Richmond, who had concurred
in the same sentiments with the council, died soon after the marriage of
her grandson.
The popularity of Henry’s government, his undisputed title, his
extensive authority, his large treasures, the tranquillity of his
subjects, were circumstances which rendered his domestic administration
easy and prosperous: the situation of foreign affairs was no less happy
and desirable. Italy continued still, as during the late reign, to be
the centre of all the wars and negotiations of the European princes; and
Henry’s alliance was courted by all parties; at the same time that he
was not engaged by any immediate interest or necessity to take part with
any. Lewis XII. of France, after his conquest of Milan, was the only
great prince that possessed any territory in Italy; and could he have
remained in tranquillity, he was enabled by his situation to prescribe
laws to all the Italian princes and republics, and to hold the balance
among them. But the desire of making a conquest of Naples, to which he
had the same title or pretensions with his predecessor, still engaged
him in new enterprises: and· as he foresaw opposition from Ferdinand,
who was connected both by treaties and affinity with Frederick of
Naples, he endeavored by the offers of interest, to which the ears of
that monarch were ever open, to engage him in an opposite confederacy.
He settled with him a plan for the partition of the kingdom of Naples,
and the expulsion of Frederick; a plan which the politicians of that,
age regarded as the most egregious imprudence in the French monarch,
and the greatest perfidy in the Spanish. Frederick, supported only by
subjects who were either discontented with his government or indifferent
about his fortunes, was unable to resist so powerful a confederacy, and
was deprived of his dominions: but he had the satisfaction to see Naples
immediately prove the source of contention among his enemies. Ferdinand
gave secret orders to his general, Gonsalvo, whom the Spaniards honor
with the appellation of the “great captain,” to attack the armies of
France, and make himself master of all the dominions of Naples. Gonsalvo
prevailed in every enterprise, defeated the French in two pitched
battles, and insured to his prince the entire possession of that
kingdom. Lewis, unable to procure redress by force of arms, was obliged
to enter into a fruitless negotiation with Ferdinand for the recovery of
his share of the partition; and all Italy, during some time, was held in
suspense between these two powerful monarchs.
There has scarcely been any period when the balance of power was better
secured in Europe, and seemed more able to maintain itself without any
anxious concern or attention of the princes. Several great monarchies
were established; and no one so far surpassed the rest as to give any
foundation or even pretence for jealousy. England was united in domestic
peace, and by its situation happily secured from the invasion of
foreigners. The coalition of the several kingdoms of Spain had
formed one powerful monarchy, which Ferdinand administered with arts,
fraudulent indeed and deceitful, but full of vigor and ability. Lewis
XII., a gallant and generous prince, had, by espousing Anne of Brittany,
widow to his predecessor, preserved the union with that principality,
on which the safety of his kingdom so much depended. Maximilian, the
emperor, besides the hereditary dominions of the Austrian family,
maintained authority in the empire, and, notwithstanding the levity of
his character, was able to unite the German princes in any great plan of
interest, at least of defence. Charles, prince of Castile, grandson to
Maximilian and Ferdinand, had already succeeded to the rich dominions of
the house of Burgundy; and being as yet in early youth, the government
was intrusted to Margaret of Savoy, his aunt, a princess endowed with
signal prudence and virtue. The internal force of these several powerful
states, by balancing each other, might long have maintained general
tranquillity, had not the active and enterprising genius of Julius II.,
an ambitious pontiff, first excited the flames of war and discord among
them. By his intrigues, a league had been formed at Cambray,[*] between
himself, Maximilian, Lewis, and Ferdinand; and the object of this great
confederacy was to overwhelm, by their united arms, the commonwealth of
Venice.
* In 1508.
Henry, without any motive from interest or passion, allowed his name to
be inserted in the confederacy. This oppressive and iniquitous league
was but too successful against the republic.
The great force and secure situation of the considerable monarchies
prevented any one from aspiring to any conquest of moment; and though
this consideration could not maintain general peace, or remedy the
natural inquietude of men, it rendered the princes of this age more
disposed to desert engagements, and change their alliances, in which
they were retained by humor and caprice, rather than by any natural or
durable interest.
{1510.} Julius had no sooner humbled the Venetian republic, than he was
inspired with a nobler ambition, that of expelling all foreigners from
Italy, or, to speak in the style affected by the Italians of that age,
the freeing of that country entirely from the dominion of barbarians.[*]
He was determined to make the tempest fall first upon Lewis; and in
order to pave the way for this great enterprise, he at once sought for
a ground of quarrel with that monarch, and courted the alliance of other
princes. He declared war against the duke of Ferrara, the confederate
of Lewis. He solicited the favor of England, by sending Henry a sacred
rose, perfumed with musk and anointed with chrism.[**] He engaged in his
interests Bambridge, archbishop of York, and Henry’s ambassador at Rome,
whom he soon after created a cardinal. He drew over Ferdinand to
his party, though that monarch at first made no declaration of his
intentions. And what he chiefly valued, he formed a treaty with the
Swiss cantons, who, enraged by some neglects put upon them by Lewis,
accompanied with contumelious expressions, had quitted the alliance of
France, and waited for an opportunity of revenging themselves on that
nation.
* Guicciard. lib. viii.
** Spel. Concil. vol. ii. p. 725.
{1511.} While the French monarch repelled the attacks of his enemies, he
thought it also requisite to make an attempt on the pope himself, and to
despoil him as much as possible of that sacred character which chiefly
rendered him formidable. He engaged some cardinals, disgusted with
the violence of Julius, to desert him; and by their authority he was
determined, in conjunction with Maximilian, who still adhered to his
alliance, to call a general council, which might reform the church, and
check the exorbitances of the Roman pontiff. A council was summoned
at Pisa, which from the beginning bore a very inauspicious aspect, and
promised little success to had adherents. Except a few French bishops,
who unwillingly obeyed the king’s commands in attending the council, all
the other prelates kept aloof from an assembly which they regarded as
the offspring of faction, intrigue, and worldly politics. Even Pisa, the
place of their residence, showed them signs of contempt; which engaged
them to transfer their session to Milan, a city under the dominion
of the French monarch; Notwithstanding this advantage, they did not
experience much more respectful treatment from the inhabitants of Milan;
and found it necessary to make another remove to Lyons.[*] Lewis himself
fortified these violent prejudices in favor of papal authority, by the
symptoms which he discovered of regard, deference, and submission to
Julius, whom he always spared, even when fortune had thrown into his
hands the most inviting opportunities of humbling him. And as it was
known that his consort, who had great influence over him, was extremely
disquieted in mind on account of his dissensions with the holy father,
all men prognosticated to Julius final success in this unequal contest.
The enterprising pontiff knew his advantages, and availed himself of
them with the utmost temerity and insolence. So much had he neglected
his sacerdotal character, that he acted in person at the siege of
Mirandola, visited the trenches, saw some of his attendants killed by
his side, and, like a young soldier, cheerfully bore all the rigors of
winter and a severe season, in pursuit of military glory:[**] yet was he
still able to throw, even on his most moderate opponents, the charge of
impiety and profaneness. He summoned, a council at the Lateran: he put
Pisa under an interdict, and all the places which gave shelter to the
schismatical council: he excommunicated the cardinals and prelates who
attended it: he even pointed his spiritual thunder against the princes
who adhered to it: he freed their subjects from all oaths of allegiance,
and gave their dominions to every one who could take possession of them.
* Guicciard. lib. x.
** Guicciard. lib. ix.
Ferdinand of Arragon, who had acquired the surname of Catholic, regarded
the cause of the pope and of religion only as a cover to his ambition
and selfish politics: Henry, naturally sincere and sanguine in his
temper, and the more èo on account of his youth and inexperience, was
moved with a hearty desire of protecting the pope from the oppression to
which he believed him exposed from the ambitious enterprises of Lewis.
{1512.} Hopes had been given him by Julius, that the title of “most
Christian king,” which had hitherto been annexed to the crown of France,
and which was regarded as its most precious ornament, should, in reward
of his services, be transferred to that of England.[*] Impatient also
of acquiring that distinction in Europe, to which his power and opulence
entitled him, he could not long remain neuter amidst the noise of arms;
and the natural enmity of the English against France, as well as their
ancient claims upon that kingdom, led Henry to join that alliance which
the pope, Spain, and Venice had formed against the French monarch.
A herald was sent to Paris, to exhort Lewis not to wage impious war
against the sovereign pontiff; and when he returned without success,
another was sent to demand the ancient patrimonial provinces, Anjou,
Maine, Guienne, and Normandy. This message was understood to be a
declaration of war; and a parliament, being summoned, readily granted
supplies for a purpose so much favored by the English nation.[**]
* Guicciard. lib. xi. P. Daniel, vol ii. p. 1893. Herbert.
Holingshed, p. 831.
** Herbert. Holingshed, p. 811.
Buonaviso, an agent of the pope’s at London, had been corrupted by the
court of France, and had previously revealed to Lewis all the measures
which Henry was concerting against him. But this infidelity did the
king inconsiderable prejudice, in comparison of the treachery which he
experienced from the selfish purposes of the ally on whom he chiefly
relied for assistance. Ferdinand, his father-in-law, had so long
persevered in a course of crooked politics, that he began even to value
himself on his dexterity in fraud and artifice; and he made a boast of
those shameful successes. Being told one day, that Lewis, a prince of a
very different character, had complained of his having once cheated
him: “He lies, the drunkard!” said he; “I have cheated him above twenty
times.” This prince considered his close connections with Henry only as
the means which enabled him the better to take advantage of his want of
experience. He advised him not to invade France by the way of Calais,
where he himself should not have it in his power to assist him: he
exhorted him rather to send forces to Fontarabia, whence he could easily
make a conquest of Guienne, a province in which it was imagined the
English had still some adherents. He promised to assist this conquest
by the junction of a Spanish army. And so forward did he seem to promote
the interests of his son-in-law, that he even sent vessels to England,
in order to transport over the forces which Henry had levied for that
purpose. The marquis of Dorset commanded this armament, which consisted
of ten thousand men, mostly infantry; Lord Howard, son of the earl of
Surrey, Lord Broke, Lord Ferrars, and many others of the young gentry
and nobility, accompanied him in this service. All were on fire to
distinguish themselves by military achievements, and to make a conquest
of importance for their master. The secret purpose of Ferdinand, in this
unexampled generosity, was suspected by nobody.
The small kingdom of Navarre lies on the frontiers between France and
Spain; and as John d’Albert, the sovereign, was connected by friendship
and alliance with Lewis, the opportunity seemed favorable to Ferdinand,
while the English forces were conjoined with his own, and while
all adherents to the council of Pisa lay under the sentence of
excommunication, to put himself in possession of these dominions. No
sooner, therefore, was Dorset landed in Guipiscoa, than the Spanish
monarch declared his readiness to join him with his forces, to make with
united arms an invasion of France, and to form the siege of Bayonne,
which opened the way into Guienne:[*] but he remarked to the English
general how dangerous it might prove to leave behind them the kingdom of
Navarre, which, being in close alliance with France, could easily give
admittance to the enemy, and cut off all communication between Spain
and the combined armies. To provide against so dangerous an event, he
required that John should stipulate a neutrality in the present war; and
when that prince expressed his willingness to enter into any engagement
for that purpose, he also required that security should be given for the
strict observance of it.
* Herbert, Holingshed, p. 813.
John having likewise agreed to this condition, Ferdinand demanded that
he should deliver into his hands six of the most considerable places of
his dominions, together with his eldest son as a hostage. These were not
terms to be proposed to a sovereign; and as the Spanish monarch expected
a refusal, he gave immediate orders to the duke of Alva, his general, to
make an invasion on Navarre, and to reduce that kingdom.
Alva soon made himself master of all the smaller towns; and being ready
to form the siege of Pampeluna, the capital, he summoned the marquis of
Dorset to join him with the English army, and concert together all their
operations.
Dorset began to suspect that the interests of his master were very
little regarded in all these transactions; and having no orders to
invade the kingdom of Navarre, or make war any where but in France, he
refused to take any part in the enterprise. He remained therefore in his
quarters at Fontarabia; but so subtle was the contrivance of Ferdinand,
that even while the English army lay in that situation, it was almost
equally serviceable to his purpose, as if it had acted in conjunction
with his own. It kept the French army in awe, and prevented it from
advancing to succor the kingdom of Navarre; so that Alva, having full
leisure to conduct the siege, made himself master of Pampeluna, and
obliged John to seek for shelter in France. The Spanish general applied
again to Dorset, and proposed to conduct with united counsels the
operations of the “holy league,” (so it was called,) against Lewis: but
as he still declined forming the siege of Bayonne, and rather insisted
on the invasion of the principality of Bearne, a part of the king of
Navarre’s dominions which lies on the French side of the Pyrenees,
Dorset, justly suspicious of his sinister intentions, represented that,
without new orders from his master, he could not concur in such an
undertaking. In order to procure these orders, Ferdinand despatched
Martin de Ampios to London; and persuaded Henry that, by the refractory
and scrupulous humor of the English general, the most favorable
opportunities were lost; and that it was necessary he should on all
occasions act in concert with the Spanish commander, who was best
acquainted with the situation of the country, and the reasons of every
operation. But before orders to this purpose reached Spain, Dorset had
become extremely impatient; and observing that his further stay served
not to promote the main undertaking, and that his army was daily
perishing by want and sickness, he demanded shipping from Ferdinand to
transport them back into England. Ferdinand, who was bound by treaty
to furnish him with this supply whenever demanded, was at length, after
many delays, obliged to yield to his importunity; and Dorset, embarking
his troops, prepared himself for the voyage. Meanwhile the messenger
arrived with orders from Henry, that the troops should remain in Spain;
but the soldiers were so discontented with the treatment which they had
met with, that they mutinied, and obliged their commanders to set sail
for England. Henry was much displeased with the ill success of this
enterprise; and it was with difficulty that Dorset, by explaining the
fraudulent conduct of Ferdinand, was at last able to appease him.
There happened this summer an action at sea, which brought not any more
decisive advantage to the English. Sir Thomas Knevet, master of horse,
was sent to the coast of Brittany with a fleet of forty-five sail; and
he carried with him Sir Charles Brandon, Sir John Carew, and many other
young courtiers, who longed for an opportunity of displaying their
valor. After they had committed some depredations, a French fleet of
thirty-nine sail issued from Brest, under the command of Primauget, and
began an engagement with the English. Fire seized the ship of Primauget;
who, finding his destruction inevitable, bore down upon the vessel of
the English admiral, and grappling with her, resolved to make her share
his fate. Both fleets stood some time in suspense, as spectators of
this dreadful engagement; and all men saw with horror the flames which
consumed both vessels, and heard the cries of fury and despair which
came from the miserable combatants. At last the French vessel blew up;
and at the same time destroyed the English.[*] The rest of the French
fleet made their escape into different harbors.
The war which England waged against France, though it brought no
advantage to the former kingdom, was of great prejudice to the latter;
and by obliging Lewis to withdraw his forces for the defence of his own
dominions, lost him that superiority which his arms in the beginning of
the campaign had attained in Italy. Gaston de Foix, his nephew, a young
hero, had been intrusted with the command of the French forces; and in
a few months performed such feats of military art and prowess, as were
sufficient to render illustrious the life of the oldest captain.[**] His
career finished with the great battle of Ravenna, which, after the most
obstinate conflict, he gained over the Spanish and papal armies. He
perished the very moment his victory was complete; and with him perished
the fortune of the French arms in Italy.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii. Stowe, p. 490. Lanquet’s Epitome
of Chronicles, fol. 273.
** Guicciard. lib. x.
The Swiss, who had rendered themselves extremely formidable by their
bands of disciplined infantry, invaded the Milanese with a numerous
army, and raised up that inconstant people to a revolt against the
dominion of France. Genoa followed the example of the duchy; and thus
Lewis in a few weeks entirely lost his Italian conquests, except some
garrisons; and Maximilian Sforza, the son of Ludovic, was reinstated in
possession of Milan.
{1513.} Julius discovered extreme joy on the discomfiture of the French;
and the more so as he had been beholden for it to the Swiss, a people
whose councils he hoped he should always be able to influence and
govern. The pontiff survived this success a very little time; and in his
place was chosen John de Medicis, who took the appellation of Leo X.,
and proved one of the most illustrious princes that ever sat on the
papal throne. Humane, beneficent, generous, affable; the patron of every
art, and friend of every virtue;[*] he had a soul no less capable of
forming great designs than his predecessor, but was more gentle, pliant,
and artful in employing means for the execution of them. The sole
defect, indeed, of his character was too great finesse and artifice; a
fault which, both as a priest and an Italian, it was difficult for
him to avoid. By the negotiations of Leo, the emperor Maximilian was
detached from the French interest; and Henry, notwithstanding his
disappointments in the former campaign, was still encouraged to
prosecute his warlike measures against Lewis.
Henry had summoned a new session of parliament,[**] and obtained a
supply for his enterprise. It was a poll-tax, and imposed different
sums, according to the station and riches of the person. A duke paid ten
marks, an earl five pounds, a baron four pounds, a knight four marks;
every man valued at eight hundred pounds in goods, four marks. An
imposition was also granted of two fifteenths and four tenths.[***]
By these supplies, joined to the treasure which had been left by his
father, and which was not yet entirely dissipated, he was enabled to
levy a great army, and render himself formidable to his enemy. The
English are said to have been much encouraged, in this enterprise, by
the arrival of a vessel in the Thames under the papal banner. It carried
presents of wine and hams to the king and the more eminent courtiers;
and such fond devotion was at that time entertained towards the court
of Rome, that these trivial presents were every where received with the
greatest triumph and exultation.
* Father Paul, lib. i.
** November 4, 1512.
*** Stowe.
In order to prevent all disturbances from Scotland while Henry’s arms
should be employed on the continent, Dr. West, dean of Windsor, was
despatched on an embassy to James, the king’s brother-in-law; and
instructions were given him to accommodate all differences between
the kingdoms, as well as to discover the intentions of the court of
Scotland.[*] Some complaints had already been made on both sides. One
Barton, a Scotchman, having suffered injuries from the Portuguese, for
which he could obtain no redress, had procured letters of marque against
that nation; but he had no sooner put to sea than he was guilty of
the grossest abuses, committed depredations upon the English, and
much infested the narrow seas.[**] Lord Howard and Sir Edward Howard,
admirals, and sons of the earl of Surrey, sailing out against him,
fought him in a desperate action, where the pirate was killed; and they
brought his ships into the Thames. As Henry refused all satisfaction for
this act of justice, some of the borderers, who wanted but a pretence
for depredations, entered England under the command of Lord Hume,
warden of the marches, and committed great ravages on that kingdom.
Notwithstanding these mutual grounds of dissatisfaction, matters might
easily have been accommodated, had it not been for Henry’s intended
invasion of France, which roused the jealousy of the Scottish
nation.[***]
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
** Stowe, p. 489. Holingshed, p. 811.
*** Buchanan, lib. xii. Drummond in the Life of James IV.
The ancient league which subsisted between France and Scotland was
conceived to be the strongest band of connection; and the Scots
universally believed, that were it not for the countenance which they
received from this foreign alliance, they had never been able so long to
maintain their independence against a people so much superior. James was
further incited to take part in the quarrel by the invitations of Anne,
queen of France, whose knight he had ever in all tournaments professed
himself, and who summoned him, according to the ideas of romantic
gallantry prevalent in that age, to take the field in her defence, and
prove himself her true and valorous champion. The remonstrances of
his consort and of his wisest counsellors were in vain opposed to the
martial ardor of this prince. He first sent a squadron of ships to the
assistance of France; the only fleet which Scotland seems ever to
have possessed. And though he still made professions of maintaining a
neutrality, the English ambassador easily foresaw that a war would
in the end prove inevitable; and he gave warning of the danger to his
master, who sent the earl of Surrey to put the borders in a posture of
defence, and to resist the expected invasion of the enemy.
Henry, all on fire for military fame, was little discouraged by this
appearance of a diversion from the north; and so much the less, as he
flattered himself with the assistance of all the considerable potentates
of Europe in his invasion of France. The pope still continued to thunder
out his excommunications against Lewis and all the adherents of the
schismatical council: the Swiss cantons made professions of violent
animosity against France: the ambassadors of Ferdinand and Maximilian
had signed with those of Henry a treaty of alliance against that power,
and had stipulated the time and place of their intended invasion: and
though Ferdinand disavowed his ambassador, and even signed a truce for a
twelvemonth with the common enemy, Henry was not yet fully convinced of
his selfish and sinister intentions, and still hoped for his concurrence
after the expiration of that term. He had now got a minister who
complied with all his inclinations, and flattered him in every scheme to
which his sanguine and impetuous temper was inclined.
Thomas Wolsey, dean of Lincoln, and almoner to the king, surpassed in
favor all his ministers, and was fast advancing towards that unrivalled
grandeur which he afterwards attained. This man was son of a butcher at
Ipswich; but having got a learned education, and being endowed with an
excellent capacity, he was admitted into the marquis of Dorset’s family
as tutor to that nobleman’s children, and soon gained the friendship and
countenance of his patron.[*] He was recommended to be chaplain to Henry
VII.; and being employed by that monarch in a secret negotiation, which
regarded his intended marriage with Margaret of Savoy, Maximilian’s
daughter, he acquitted himself to the king’s satisfaction, and obtained
the praise both of diligence and dexterity in his conduct.[**]
* Stowe, p. 997.
** Cavendish. Fiddes’s Life of Wolsey. Stowe.
That prince, having given him a commission to Maximilian, who at that
time resided in Brussels, was surprised, in less than three days after,
to see Wolsey present himself before him, and supposing that he had
protracted his departure, he began to reprove him for the dilatory
execution of his orders. Wolsey informed him that he had just returned
from Brussels, and had successfully fulfilled all his majesty’s
commands. “But on second thoughts,” said the king, “I found that
somewhat was omitted in your orders; and have sent a messenger after you
with fuller instructions.” “I met the messenger,” replied Wolsey, “on my
return: but as I had reflected on that omission, I ventured of myself
to execute what I knew must be your majesty’s intentions.” The death of
Henry soon after this incident retarded the advancement of Wolsey, and
prevented his reaping any advantage from the good opinion which that
monarch had entertained of him: but thence forwards he was looked on at
court as a rising man; and Fox, bishop of Winchester, cast his eye upon
him as one who might be serviceable to him in his present situation.[*]
This prelate, observing that the earl of Surrey had totally eclipsed
him in favor, resolved to introduce Wolsey to the young prince’s
familiarity; and hoped that he might rival Surrey in his insinuating
arts, and yet be contented to act in the cabinet a part subordinate to
Fox himself, who had promoted him.
* Antiq. Brit. Eccles. p. 309. Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
In a little time, Wolsey gained so much on the king, that he supplanted
both Surrey in his favor, and Fox in his trust and confidence. Being
admitted to Henry’s parties of pleasure, he took the lead in every
jovial conversation, and promoted all that frolic and entertainment
which he found suitable to the age and inclination of the young monarch.
Neither his own years, which were near forty, nor his character of a
clergyman, were any restraint upon him, or engaged him to check, by any
useless severity, the gayety in which Henry, who had small propension
to debauchery, passed his careless hours. During the intervals of
amusement, he introduced business, and insinuated those maxims of
conduct which he was desirous his master should adopt. He observed to
him that while he intrusted his affairs into the hands of his father’s
counsellors, he had the advantage indeed of employing men of wisdom and
experience, but men who owed not their promotion to his favor, and who
scarcely thought themselves accountable to him for the exercise of their
authority: that by the factions, and cabals, and jealousies which had
long prevailed among them, they more obstructed the advancement of his
affairs, than they promoted it by the knowledge which age and practice
had conferred upon them: that while he thought proper to pass his time
in those pleasures to which his age and royal fortune invited him, and
in those studies which would in time enable him to sway the sceptre with
absolute authority, his best system of government would be, to intrust
his authority into the hands of some one person who was the creature
of his will, and who could entertain no view but that of promoting his
service: and that if this minister had also the same relish for pleasure
with himself, and the same taste for science, he could more easily,
at intervals, account to him for his whole conduct, and introduce
his master gradually into the knowledge of public business; and thus,
without tedious constraint or application, initiate him in the science
of government.[*]
* Cavendish, p. 12. Stowe, p. 499.
Henry entered into all the views of Wolsey; and finding no one so
capable of executing this plan of administration as the person who
proposed it, he soon advanced his favorite, from being the companion of
his pleasures, to be a member of his council; and from being a member
of his council, to be his sole and absolute minister. By this rapid
advancement and uncontrolled authority, the character and genius
of Wolsey had full opportunity to display itself. Insatiable in his
acquisitions, but still more magnificent in his expense: of extensive
capacity, but still more unbounded enterprise: ambitious of power, but
still more desirous of glory: insinuating engaging, persuasive; and, by
turns, lofty, elevated, commanding: haughty to his equals, but affable
to his dependants: oppressive to the people, but liberal to his friends;
more generous than grateful; less moved by injuries than by contempt; he
was framed to take the ascendant in every intercourse with others, but
exerted this superiority of nature with such ostentation as exposed him
to envy, and made every one willing to recall the original inferiority,
or rather meanness, of his fortune.
The branch of administration in which Henry most exerted himself, while
he gave his entire confidence to Wolsey, was the military; which, as it
suited the natural gallantry and bravery of his temper, as well as the
ardor of his youth, was the principal object of his attention. Finding
that Lewis had made great preparations both by sea and land to resist
him, he was no less careful to levy a formidable army and equip a
considerable fleet for the invasion of France. The command of the fleet
was intrusted to Sir Edward Howard; who, after scouring the Channel for
some time, presented himself before Brest, where the French navy
then lay; and he challenged them to a combat. The French admiral, who
expected from the Mediterranean a reënforcement of some galleys under
the command of Prejeant de Bidoux, kept within the harbor, and saw with
patience the English burn and destroy the country in the neighborhood.
At last Prejeant arrived with six galleys, and put into Conquet, a place
within a few leagues of Brest; where he secured himself behind some
batteries, which he had planted on rocks that lay on each side of him.
Howard was, notwithstanding, determined to make an attack upon him; and
as he had but two galleys, he took himself the command of one, and gave
the other to Lord Ferrars. He was followed by some row-barges and some
crayers under the command of Sir Thomas Cheyney, Sir William Sidney,
and other officers of distinction. He immediately fastened on Prejeant’s
ship, and leaped on board of her, attended by one Carroz, a Spanish
cavalier, and seventeen Englishmen. The cable, meanwhile, which fastened
his ship to that of the enemy, being cut, the admiral was thus left in
the hands of the French; and as he still continued the combat with great
gallantry, he was pushed overboard by their pikes.[*] Lord Ferrars,
seeing the admiral’s galley fall off, followed with the other small
vessels; and the whole fleet was so discouraged by the loss of their
commander, that they retired from before Brest.[**] The French navy came
out of harbor, and even ventured to invade the coast of Sussex. They
were repulsed, and Prejeant, their commander, lost an eye by the shot of
an arrow. Lord Howard, brother to the deceased admiral, succeeded to the
command of the English fleet; and little memorable passed at sea during
this summer.
* It was a maxim of Howard’s, that no admiral was good for
any thing that was not brave even to a degree of madness. As
the sea service requires much less plan and contrivance, and
capacity, than the land, this maxim has great plausibility
and appearance of truth; though the fate of Howard himself
may serve as a proof, that even there courage ought to be
tempered with discretion.
** Stowe, p. 491. Herbert.
*** Holingshed, p. 816.
Great preparations had been making at land, during the whole winter,
for an invasion on France by the way of Calais; but the summer was well
advanced before every thing was in sufficient readiness for the intended
enterprise. The long peace which the kingdom had enjoyed had somewhat
unfitted the English for military expeditions; and the great change
which had lately been introduced in the art of war, had rendered
it still more difficult to inure them to the use of the weapons now
employed in action. The Swiss, and after them the Spaniards, had shown
the advantage of a stable infantry, who fought with pike and sword, and
were able to repulse even the heavy-armed cavalry, in which the great
force of the armies formerly consisted. The practice of firearms was
become common; though the caliver, which was the weapon now in use, was
so inconvenient, and attended with so many disadvantages, that it had
not entirely discredited the bow, a weapon in which the English excelled
all European nations. A considerable part of the forces which Henry
levied for the invasion of France consisted of archers; and as soon as
affairs were in readiness, the vanguard of the army, amounting to eight
thousand men, under the command of the earl of Shrewsbury, sailed over
to Calais. Shrewsbury was accompanied by the earl of Derby, the lords
Fitzwater, Hastings, Cobham, and Sir Rice ap Thomas, captain of the
light horse. Another body of six thousand men soon after followed under
the command of Lord Herbert the chamberlain, attended by the earls of
Northumberland and Kent, the lords Audley and Delawar, together with
Carew, Curson, and other gentlemen.
The king himself prepared to follow with the main body and rear of
the army; and he appointed the queen regent of the kingdom during his
absence. That he might secure her administration from all disturbance,
he ordered Edmond de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, to be beheaded in the
Tower, the nobleman who had been attainted and imprisoned during the
late reign. Henry was led to commit this act of violence by the dying
commands, as is imagined, of his father, who told him that he never
would be free from danger while a man of so turbulent a disposition as
Suffolk was alive. And as Richard de la Pole, brother of Suffolk, had
accepted of a command in the French service, and foolishly attempted
to revive the York faction, and to instigate them against the present
government, he probably by that means drew more suddenly the King’s
vengeance on this unhappy nobleman.
At last, Henry, attended by the duke of Buckingham and many others of
the nobility, arrived at Calais, and entered upon his French expedition,
from which he fondly expected so much success and glory.[*] Of all those
allies on whose assistance he relied, the Swiss alone fully performed
their engagements. Being put in motion by a sum of money sent them by
Henry, and incited by their victories obtained in Italy and by their
animosity against France, they were preparing to enter that kingdom with
an army of twenty-five thousand men; and no equal force could be opposed
to their incursion. Maximilian had received an advance of one hundred
and twenty thousand crowns from Henry, and had promised to reënforce the
Swiss with eight thousand men, but failed in his engagements. That
he might make atonement to the king, he himself appeared in the Low
Countries, and joined the English army with some German and Flemish
soldiers, who were useful in giving an example of discipline to Henry’s
new-levied forces. Observing the disposition of the English monarch
to be more bent on glory than on interest, he enlisted himself in his
service, wore the cross of St. George, and received pay, a hundred
crowns a day, as one of his subjects and captains. But while he
exhibited this extraordinary spectacle, of an emperor of Germany serving
under a king of England, he was treated with the highest respect by
Henry, and really directed all the operations of the English army.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii. Bellarius, lib. xiv.
Before the arrival of Henry and Maximilian in the camp, the earl of
Shrewsbury and Lord Herbert had formed the siege of Terouane, a town
situated on the frontiers of Picardy; and they began to attack the place
with vigor. Teligni and Crequi commanded in the town, and had a garrison
not exceeding two thousand men; yet made they such stout resistance as
protracted the siege a month; and they at last found themselves more in
danger from want of provisions and ammunition than from the assaults of
the besiegers. Having conveyed intelligence of their situation to Lewis,
who had advanced to Amiens with his army, that prince gave orders to
throw relief into the place. Fontrailles appeared at the head of eight
hundred horsemen, each of whom carried a sack of gunpowder behind him,
and two quarters of bacon. With this small force he made a sudden
and unexpected irruption into the English camp, and, surmounting all
resistance, advanced to the fosse of the town, where each horseman threw
down his burden. They immediately returned at the gallop, and were so
fortunate as again to break through the English and to suffer little or
no loss in this dangerous attempt.[*]
But the English had, soon after, full revenge for the insult. Henry
had received intelligence of the approach of the French horse, who had
advanced to protect another incursion of Fontrailles; and he ordered
some troops to pass the Lis, in order to oppose them. The cavalry of
France, though they consisted chiefly of gentlemen, who had behaved with
great gallantry in many desperate actions in Italy, were, on sight of
the enemy, seized with so unaccountable a panic, that they immediately
took to flight, and were pursued by the English. The duke of
Longueville, who commanded the French, Bussi d’Amboise, Clermont,
Imbercourt, the chevalier Bayard, and many other officers of distinction
were made prisoners.[**] This action, or rather rout, is sometimes
called the battle of Guinegate, from the place where it was fought; but
more commonly the “battle of spurs,” because the French that day made
more use of their spurs than of their swords or military weapons.
* Hist. de Chev. Bayard, chap. 57. Mémoires de Bellai.
** Mémoires de Bellai, liv. i. Polyd. Virg. liv. xxvii.
Holingshed, p. 822. Herbert.
After so considerable an advantage, the king, who was at the head of a
complete army of above fifty thousand men, might have made incursions to
the gates of Paris, and spread confusion and desolation every where. It
gave Lewis great joy when he heard that the English, instead of pushing
their victory, and attacking the dismayed troops of France, returned to
the siege of so inconsiderable a place as Terouane. The governors were
obliged soon after to capitulate; and Henry found his acquisition of so
little moment, though gained at the expense of some blood, and what, in
his present circumstances, was more important, of much valuable time,
that he immediately demolished the fortifications. The anxieties of the
French were again revived with regard to the motions of the English. The
Swiss at the same time had entered Burgundy with a formidable army, and
laid siege to Dijon, which was in no condition to resist them. Ferdinand
himself, though he had made a truce with Lewis, seemed disposed to lay
hold of every advantage which fortune should present to him. Scarcely
ever was the French monarchy in greater danger, or less in a condition
to defend itself against those powerful armies which on every side
assailed or threatened it. Even many of the inhabitants of Paris, who
believed themselves exposed to the rapacity and violence of the enemy,
began to dislodge, without knowing what place could afford them greater
security.
But Lewis was extricated from his present difficulties by the manifold
blunders of his enemies. The Swiss allowed themselves to be seduced into
a negotiation by Tremoille, governor of Burgundy; and without making
inquiry whether that nobleman had any powers to treat, they accepted of
the conditions which he offered them. Tremoille, who knew that he should
be disavowed by his master, stipulated whatever they were pleased to
demand; and thought himself happy, at the expense of some payments and
very large promises, to get rid of so formidable an enemy.[*]
The measures of Henry showed equal ignorance in the art of war with that
of the Swiss in negotiation. Tournay was a great and rich city, which,
though it lay within the frontiers of Flanders, belonged to France,
and afforded the troops of that kingdom a passage into the heart of the
Netherlands. Maximilian, who was desirous of freeing his grandson from
so troublesome a neighbor, advised Henry to lay siege to the place; and
the English monarch, not considering that such an acquisition nowise
advanced his conquests in France, was so imprudent as to follow this
interested counsel. The city of Tournay, by its ancient charters,
being exempted from the burden of a garrison, the burghers, against the
remonstrance of their sovereign, strenuously insisted on maintaining
this dangerous privilege; and they engaged, by themselves, to make a
vigorous defence against the enemy.[**] Their courage failed them
when matters came to trial; and after a few days’ siege, the place was
surrendered to the English. The bishop of Tournay was lately dead; and
as a new bishop was already elected by the chapter, but not installed
in his office, the king bestowed the administration of the see on his
favorite Wolsey, and put him in immediate possession of the revenues,
which were considerable.[***]
* Mémoires du Mareschal de Fleuranges. Bellarius, lib. xiv.
** Mémoires de Fleuranges.
*** Strype’s Memorials, vol. i. p. 5, 6.
Hearing of the retreat of the Swiss, and observing the season to be far
advanced, he thought proper to return to England; and he carried the
greater part of his army with him. Success had attended him in every
enterprise; and his youthful mind was much elated with this seeming
prosperity, but all men of judgment, comparing the advantages of his
situation with his progress, his expense with his acquisitions, were
convinced that this campaign, so much vaunted, was, in reality, both
ruinous and inglorious to him.[*]
* Guicciardini.
The success which, during this summer, had attended Henry’s arms in the
north, was much more decisive. The king of Scotland had assembled the
whole force of his kingdom; and having passed the Tweed with a brave,
though a tumultuary army of above fifty thousand men, he ravaged those
parts of Northumberland which lay nearest that river, and he employed
himself in taking the Castles of Norham, Etal, Werke, Ford, and other
places of small importance. Lady Ford, being taken prisoner in her
castle, was presented to James, and so gained on the affections of that
prince, that he wasted in pleasure the critical time which, during the
absence of his enemy, he should have employed in pushing his conquests.
His troops, lying in a barren country, where they soon consumed all the
provisions, began to be pinched with hunger; and as the authority of
the prince was feeble, and military discipline during that age extremely
relaxed, many of them had stolen from the camp, and retired homewards.
Meanwhile, the earl of Surrey, having collected a force of twenty-six
thousand men, of which five thousand had been sent over from the king’s
army in France, marched to the defence of the country, and approached
the Scots, who lay on some high ground near the hills of Cheviot. The
River Till ran between the armies, and prevented an engagement: Surrey
therefore sent a herald to the Scottish camp, challenging the enemy to
descend into the plain of Milfield, which lay towards the south; and
there, appointing a day for the combat, to try their valor on equal
ground. As he received no satisfactory answer, he made a feint of
marching towards Berwick; as if he intended to enter Scotland, to lay
waste the borders, and cut off the provisions of the enemy. The Scottish
army, in order to prevent his purpose, put themselves in motion; and
having set fire to the huts in which they had quartered, they descended
from the hills. Surrey, taking advantage of the smoke, which was blown
towards him, and which concealed his movements, passed the Till with his
artillery and vanguard at the bridge of Twisel, and sent the rest of his
army to seek a ford higher up the river.
An engagement was now become inevitable, and both sides prepared for it
with tranquillity and order.[*] The English divided their army into
two lines: Lord Howard led the main body of the first line, Sir Edmond
Howard the right wing, Sir Marmaduke Constable the left. The earl of
Surrey himself commanded the main body of the second line, Lord Dacres
the right wing, Sir Edward Stanley the left. The front of the Scots
presented three divisions to the enemy: the middle was led by the king
himself; the right by the earl of Huntley, assisted by Lord Hume; the
left by the earls of Lenox and Argyle. A fourth division under the earl
of Bothwell made a body of reserve. Huntley began the battle, and, after
a sharp conflict, put to flight the left wing of the English, and chased
them off the field: but on returning from the pursuit, he found the
whole Scottish army in great disorder. The division under Lenox and
Argyle, elated with the success of the other wing, had broken their
ranks, and, notwithstanding the remonstrances and entreaties of La
Motte, the French ambassador, had rushed headlong upon the enemy. Not
only Sir Edmond Howard, at the head of his division, received them with
great valor, but Dacres, who commanded in the second line, wheeling
about during the action, fell upon their rear, and put them to the sword
without resistance. The division under James and that under Bothwell,
animated by the valor of their leaders, still made head against the
English, and throwing themselves into a circle, protracted the action,
till night separated the combatants. The victory seemed yet undecided,
and the numbers that fell on each side were nearly equal, amounting to
above five thousand men: but the morning discovered where the advantage
lay. The English had lost only persons of small note; but the flower
of the Scottish nobility had fallen in battle, and their king himself,
after the most diligent inquiry, could nowhere be found. In searching
the field, the English met with a dead body which resembled him, and was
arrayed in a similar habit; and they put it in a leaden coffin, and sent
it to London. During some time it was kept unburied; because James died
under sentence of ex-communication, on account of his confederacy
with France, and his opposition to the holy see:[**] but upon Henry’s
application, who pretended that this prince had, in the instant before
his death, discovered signs of repentance, absolution was given him, and
his body was interred.
* Buchanan, lib. xiii. Drummond. Herbert. Polyd. Virg. lib.
xxvii. Stowe, p. 493. Paulus Jovius.
** Buchanan, lib. xiii. Herbert.
The Scots, however, still asserted that it was not James’s body which
was found on the field of battle, but that of one Elphinston, who had
been arrayed in arms resembling their king’s, in order to divide the
attention of the English, and share the danger with his master. It was
believed that James had been seen crossing the Tweed at Kelso;* and some
imagined that he had been killed by the vassals of Lord Hume, whom that
nobleman had instigated to commit so enormous a crime. But the populace
entertained the opinion that he was still alive, and having secretly
gone in pilgrimage to the Holy Land, would soon return and take
possession of the throne. This fond conceit was long entertained among
the Scots.
The king of Scotland and most of his chief nobles being slain in the
field of Flouden, (so this battle was called,) an inviting opportunity
was offered to Henry of gaining advantages over that kingdom, perhaps
of reducing it to subjection. But he discovered on this occasion a mind
truly great and generous. When the queen of Scotland, Margaret, who
was created regent during the infancy of her son, applied for peace, he
readily granted it; and took compassion of the helpless condition of
his sister and nephew. The earl of Surrey, who had gained him so great
a victory, was restored to the title of duke of Norfolk, which had been
forfeited by his father for engaging on the side of Richard III.
{1514.} Lord Howard was honored with the title of earl of Surrey.
Sir Charles Brandon, the king’s favorite, whom he had before created
Viscount Lisle, was now raised to the dignity of duke of Suffolk.
Wolsey, who was both his favorite and his minister, was created bishop
of Lincoln. Lord Herbert obtained the title of earl of Worcester; Sir
Edward Stanley, that of Lord Monteagle.
Though peace with Scotland gave Henry security on that side, and enabled
him to prosecute in tranquillity his enterprise against France, some
other incidents had happened, which more than counterbalanced this
fortunate event, and served to open his eyes with regard to the rashness
of an undertaking, into which his youth and high fortune had betrayed
him.
Lewis, fully sensible of the dangerous situation to which his kingdom
had been reduced during the former campaign, was resolved, by every
expedient, to prevent the return of like perils, and to break the
confederacy of his enemies. The pope was nowise disposed to push the
French to extremity; and provided they did not return to take possession
of Milan, his interests rather led him to preserve the balance among the
contending parties. He accepted, therefore, of Lewis’s offer to renounce
the council of Lyons; and he took off the excommunication which his
predecessor and himself had fulminated against that king and his
kingdom. Ferdinand was now fast declining in years, and as he
entertained no further ambition than that of keeping possession of
Navarre, which he had subdued by his arms and policy, he readily
hearkened to the proposals of Lewis for prolonging the truce another
year; and he even showed an inclination of forming a more intimate
connection with that monarch. Lewis had dropped hints of his intention
to marry his second daughter, Renée, either to Charles, prince of Spain,
or his brother Ferdinand, both of them grandsons of the Spanish monarch;
and he declared his resolution of bestowing on her, as her portion, his
claim to the duchy of Milan. Ferdinand not only embraced these proposals
with joy, but also engaged the emperor Maximilian in the same views, and
procured his accession to a treaty which opened so inviting a prospect
of aggrandizing their common grandchildren.
When Henry was informed of Ferdinand’s renewal of the truce with
Lewis, he fell into a violent rage, and loudly complained, that his
father-in-law had first, by high promises and professions, engaged him
in enmity with France, and afterwards, without giving him the least
warning, had now again sacrificed his interests to his own selfish
purposes, and had left him exposed alone to all the danger and expense
of the war. In proportion to his easy credulity, and his unsuspecting
reliance on Ferdinand, was the vehemence with which he exclaimed against
the treatment which he met with; and he threatened revenge for this
egregious treachery and breach of faith.[*] But he lost all patience
when informed of the other negotiation, by which Maximilian was also
seduced from his alliance, and in which proposals had been agreed to
for the marriage of the prince of Spain with the daughter of France.
Charles, during the lifetime of the late king, had been affianced to
Mary, Henry’s younger sister; and as the prince now approached the
age of puberty, the king had expected the immediate completion of the
marriage, and the honorable settlement of a sister for whom he had
entertained a tender affection. Such a complication, therefore, of
injuries gave him the highest displeasure, and inspired him with a
desire of expressing his disdain towards those who had imposed on his
youth and inexperience, and had abused his too great facility.
* Petrus de Angleria, Epist. 545, 646.
The duke of Longueville, who had been made prisoner at the battle of
Gumegate, and who was still detained in England, was ready to take
advantage of all these dispositions of Henry, in order to procure a
peace, and even an alliance, which he knew to be passionately desired
by his master. He represented to the king, that Anne, queen of France,
being lately dead, a door was thereby opened for an affinity, which
might tend to the advantage of both kingdoms, and which would serve to
terminate honorably all the differences between them: that she had left
Lewis no male children; and as he had ever entertained a strong desire
of having heirs to the crown, no marriage seemed more suitable to him
than that with the princess of England, whose youth and beauty afforded
the most flattering hopes in that particular: that though the marriage
of a princess of sixteen with a king of fifty-three might seem
unsuitable, yet the other advantages attending the alliance were more
than a sufficient compensation for this inequality; and that Henry, in
loosening his connections with Spain, from which he had never reaped
any advantage, would contract a close affinity with Lewis, a prince
who, through his whole life, had invariably maintained the character of
probity and honor.
As Henry seemed to hearken to this discourse with willing ears,
Longueville informed his master of the probability which he discovered
of bringing the matter to a happy conclusion; and he received full
powers for negotiating the treaty. The articles were easily adjusted
between the monarchs. Louis agreed that Tournay should remain in the
hands of the English; that Richard de la Pole should be banished to
Metz, there to live on a pension assigned him by Lewis; that Henry
should receive payment of a million of crowns, being the arrears due
by treaty to his father and himself; and that the princess Mary should
bring four hundred thousand crowns as her portion, and enjoy as large
a jointure as any queen of France, even the former, who was heiress of
Brittany. The two princes also agreed on the succors with which they
should mutually supply each other, in case either of them was attacked
by an enemy.[*]
In consequence of this treaty, Mary was sent over to France with a
splendid retinue; and Lewis met her at Abbeville, where the espousals
were celebrated. He was enchanted with the beauty, grace, and numerous
accomplishments of the young princess; and being naturally of an amorous
disposition, which his advanced age had not entirely cooled, he was
seduced into such a course of gayety and pleasure, as proved very
unsuitable to his declining state of health.[**]
* Du Tillet.
** Brantome, Eloge de Louis XII.
{1515.} He died in less than three months after the marriage, to the
extreme regret of the French nation, who, sensible of his tender concern
for their welfare, gave him with one voice the honorable appellation of
“father of his people.”
Francis, duke of Angoulême, a youth of one and twenty, who had married
Lewis’s eldest daughter, succeeded him on the throne; and, by his
activity, valor, generosity, and other virtues, gave prognostics of a
happy and glorious reign. This young monarch had been extremely
struck with the charms of the English princess; and even during his
predecessor’s lifetime, had paid her such assiduous court, as made some
of his friends apprehend that he had entertained views of gallantry
towards her. But being warned that, by indulging this passion, he
might probably exclude himself from the throne he forbore all further
addresses; and even watched the young dowager with a very careful eye
during the first months of her widowhood. Charles Brandon, duke of
Suffolk, was at that time in the court of France, the most comely
personage of his time, and the most accomplished in all the exercises
which were then thought to befit a courtier and a soldier. He was
Henry’s chief favorite; and that monarch had even once entertained
thoughts of marrying him to his sister, and had given indulgence to the
mutual passion which took place between them. The queen asked Suffolk,
whether he had now the courage, without further reflection, to espouse
her; and she told him that her brother would more easily forgive him for
not asking his consent, than for acting contrary to his orders. Suffolk
declined not so inviting an offer; and their nuptials were secretly
celebrated at Paris. Francis, who was pleased with this marriage, as
it prevented Henry from forming any powerful alliance by means of
his sister,[*] interposed his good offices in appeasing him: and even
Wolsey, having entertained no jealousy of Suffolk, who was content to
participate in the king’s pleasures, and had no ambition to engage in
public business, was active in reconciling the king to his sister and
brother-in-law; and he obtained them permission to return to England.
* Petrus de Angleria, Epist. 544.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
[Illustration: 1-30-henry8.jpg HENRY VIII.]
HENRY VIII.
{1515.} The numerous enemies whom Wolsey’s sudden elevation, his
aspiring character, and his haughty deportment had raised him, served
only to rivet him faster in Henry’s confidence; who valued himself
on supporting the choice which he had made, and who was incapable of
yielding either to the murmurs of the people or to the discontents
of the great. That artful prelate, likewise, well acquainted with the
king’s imperious temper, concealed from him the absolute ascendant which
he had acquired; and while he secretly directed all public councils,
he ever pretended a blind submission to the will and authority of
his master. By entering into the king’s pleasures, he preserved his
affection; by conducting his business, he gratified his indolence; and
by his unlimited complaisance in both capacities, he prevented all
that jealousy to which his exorbitant acquisitions and his splendid
ostentatious train of life should naturally have given birth. The
archbishopric of York falling vacant by the death of Bambridge, Wolsey
was promoted to that see, and resigned the bishopric of Lincoln. Besides
enjoying the administration of Tournay, he got possession, on easy
leases, of the revenues of Bath, Worcester, and Hereford, bishoprics
filled by Italians, who were allowed to reside abroad, and who were glad
to compound for this indulgence, by yielding a considerable share of
their income. He held “in commendam” the abbey of St. Albans, and many
other church preferments. He was even allowed to unite with the see of
York, first that of Durham, next that of Winchester; and there seemed to
be no end of his acquisitions. His further advancement in ecclesiastical
dignity served him as a pretence for engrossing still more revenues:
the pope, observing his great influence over the king, was desirous of
engaging him in his interests, and created him a cardinal. No churchman,
under color of exacting respect to religion, ever carried to a greater
height the state and dignity of that character. His train consisted of
eight hundred servants, of whom many were knights and gentlemen; some
even of the nobility put their children into his family as a place of
education; and in order to gain them favor with their patron, allowed
them to bear offices as his servants. Whoever was distinguished by any
art or science paid court to the cardinal; and none paid court in vain.
Literature, which was then in its infancy, found in him a generous
patron; and both by his public institutions and private bounty, he gave
encouragement to every branch of erudition.[*] Not content with this
munificence, which gained him the approbation of the wise, he strove
to dazzle the eyes of the populace by the splendor of his equipage and
furniture, the costly embroidery of his liveries, the lustre of his
apparel. He was the first clergyman in England that wore silk and gold,
not only on his habit, but also on his saddles and the trappings of his
horses.[**] He caused his cardinal’s hat to be borne aloft by a person
of rank; and when he came to the king’s chapel, would permit it to be
laid on no place but the altar. A priest, the tallest and most comely
he could find, carried before him a pillar of silver, on whose top was
placed a cross: but not satisfied with this parade, to which he thought
himself entitled as cardinal, he provided another priest of equal
stature and beauty, who marched along, bearing the cross of York, even
in the diocese of Canterbury; contrary to the ancient rule and the
agreement between the prelates of these rival sees.[***] The people made
merry with the cardinal’s ostentation; and said, they were now sensible
that one crucifix alone was not sufficient for the expiation of his sins
and offences.
* Erasm. Epist. lib. ii. epist. i.; lib. xvi. epist. 3.
** Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii. Stowe, p, 501. Hollingshed, p.
847.
*** Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
Warham, chancellor and archbishop of Canterbury, a man of a moderate
temper, averse to all disputes, chose rather to retire from public
employment, than maintain an unequal contest with the haughty cardinal.
He resigned his office of chancellor; and the great seal was immediately
delivered to Wolsey. If this new accumulation of dignity increased his
enemies, it also served to exalt his personal character, and prove the
extent of his capacity. A strict administration of justice took
place during his enjoyment of this high office and no chancellor ever
discovered greater impartiality in his decisions, deeper penetration of
judgment, or more enlarged knowledge of law and equity.[*]
The duke of Norfolk, finding the king’s money almost entirely exhausted
by projects and pleasures, while his inclination for expense still
continued, was glad to resign his office of treasurer and retire from
court. His rival, Fox, bishop of Winchester reaped no advantage from his
absence; but partly overcome by years and infirmities, partly disgusted
at the ascendant acquired by Wolsey, withdrew himself wholly to the care
of his diocese. The duke of Suffolk had also taken offence, that the
king, by the cardinal’s persuasion, had refused to pay a debt which
he had contracted during his residence in France; and he thenceforth
affected to live in privacy. These incidents left Wolsey to enjoy
without a rival the whole power and favor of the king; and they put
into his hands every kind of authority. In vain did Fox, before his
retirement, warn the king “not to suffer the servant to be greater than
his master.” Henry replied, “that he well knew how to retain all his
subjects in obedience;” but he continued still an unlimited deference in
every thing to the directions and counsels of the cardinal.
The public tranquillity was so well established in England, the
obedience of the people so entire, the general administration of
justice, by the cardinal’s means,[**] so exact, that no domestic
occurrence happened considerable enough to disturb the repose of the
king and his minister: they might even have dispensed with giving any
strict attention to foreign affairs, were it possible for men to enjoy
any situation in absolute tranquillity, or abstain from projects and
enterprises however fruitless and unnecessary.
The will of the late king of Scotland, who left his widow regent of the
kingdom, and the vote of the convention of states, which confirmed that
destination, had expressly limited her authority to the condition of her
remaining unmarried;[***] but, notwithstanding this limitation, a few
months after her husband’s death, she espoused the earl of Angus, of the
name of Douglas, a young nobleman of great family and promising hopes.
Some of the nobility now proposed the electing of Angus to the regency,
and recommended this choice as the most likely means of preserving peace
with England; but the jealousy of the great families, and the fear of
exalting the Douglases, begat opposition to this measure.
* Sir Thomas More. Stowe, p. 504.
** Erasm. lib. ii. epist. i. Cavendish. Hall.
*** Buchanar, lib. xiv. Drummond. Herbert.
Lord Hume in particular, the most powerful chieftain in the kingdom,
insisted on recalling the duke of Albany, son to a brother of James III.
who had been banished into France, and who, having there married, had
left posterity that were the next heirs to the crown, and the nearest
relations to their young sovereign. Albany, though first prince of the
blood, had never been in Scotland, was totally unacquainted with the
manners of the people, ignorant of their situation, unpractised in their
language; yet such was the favor attending the French alliance, and so
great the authority of Hume, that this prince was invited to accept the
reins of government. Francis, careful not to give offence to the king
of England, detained Albany some time in France; but at length, sensible
how important it was to keep Scotland in his interests, he permitted
him to go over and take possession of the regency: he even renewed
the ancient league with that kingdom, though it implied such a close
connection as might be thought somewhat to intrench on his alliance with
England.
When the regent arrived in Scotland, he made inquiries concerning the
state of the country, and character of the people; and he discovered a
scene with which he was hitherto but little acquainted. That turbulent
kingdom, he found, was rather to be considered as a Confederacy, and
that not a close one, of petty princes, than a regular system of civil
polity; and even the king, much more a regent, possessed an authority
very uncertain and precarious. Arms, more than laws, prevailed; and
courage, preferably to equity or justice, was the virtue most valued
and respected. The nobility, in whom the whole power resided, were so
connected by hereditary alliances, or so divided by inveterate enmities,
that it was impossible, without employing an armed force, either to
punish the most flagrant guilt, or give security to the most entire
innocence. Rapine and violence, when exercised on a hostile tribe,
instead of making a person odious among his own clan, rather recommended
him to their esteem and approbation; and by rendering him useful to the
chieftain, entitled him to a preference above his fellows. And though
the necessity of mutual support served as a close cement of amity among
those of the same kindred, the spirit of revenge against enemies, and
the desire of prosecuting the deadly feuds, (so they were called,) still
appeared to be passions the most predominant among that uncultivated
people.
The persons to whom Albany, on his arrival, first Applied for
information with regard to the state of the country, happened to be
inveterate enemies of Hume;[*] and they represented that powerful
nobleman as the chief source of public disorders, and the great obstacle
to the execution of the law; and the administration of justice. Before
the authority of the magistrate could be established, it was necessary,
they said, to make an example of this great offender; and, by the terror
of his punishment, teach all lesser criminals to pay respect to the
power of their sovereign. Albany, moved by these reasons, was induced
to forget Hume’s past services, to which he had in a great measure
been indebted for the regency; and he no longer bore towards him that
favorable countenance with which he was wont to receive him. Hume
perceived the alteration, and was incited, both by regard to his own
safety and from motives of revenge, to take measures in opposition
to the regent. He applied himself to Angus and the queen dowager, and
represented to them the danger to which the infant prince was exposed
from the ambition of Albany, next heir to the crown, to whom the states
had imprudently intrusted the whole authority of government. By his
persuasion Margaret formed the design of carrying off the young king,
and putting him under the protection of her brother; and when that
conspiracy was detected, she herself, attended by Hume and Angus,
withdrew into England, where she was soon after delivered of a daughter.
* Buchanan, lib. xiv. Drummond.
Henry, in order to check the authority of Albany and the French party,
gave encouragement to these malecontents, and assured them of his
support. Matters being afterwards in appearance accommodated between
Hume and the regent, that nobleman returned into his own country; but
mutual suspicions and jealousies still prevailed. He was committed to
custody, under the care of the earl of Arran, his brother-in-law; and
was for some time detained prisoner in his castle. But having persuaded
Arran to enter into the conspiracy with him, he was allowed to make his
escape; and he openly levied war upon the regent. A new accommodation
ensued, not more sincere than the foregoing; and Hume was so imprudent
as to intrust himself, together with his brother, into the hands of that
prince. They were immediately seized, committed to custody, brought to
trial, condemned and executed. No legal crime was proved against these
brothers: it was only alleged, that at the battle of Flouder they had
not done their duty in supporting the king; and as this backwardness
could not, from the course of their past life, be ascribed to cowardice,
it was commonly imputed to a more criminal motive. The evidence,
however, of guilt produced against them was far from being valid or
convincing; and the people, who hated them while living, were much
dissatisfied with their execution.
Such violent remedies often produce for some time a deceitful
tranquillity; but as they destroy mutual confidence, and beget the most
inveterate animosities, their consequences are commonly fatal, both to
the public and to those who have recourse to them. The regent, however,
took advantage of the present calm which prevailed; and being invited
over by the French king, who was at that time willing to gratify Henry
he went into France, and was engaged to remain there for some years.
During the absence of the regent, such confusions prevailed in Scotland,
and such mutual enmity, rapine, and violence among the great families,
that that kingdom was for a long time utterly disabled both from
offending its enemies and assisting its friends. We have carried on the
Scottish history some years beyond the present period; that, as that
country had little connection with the general system of Europe, we
might be the less interrupted in the narration of those more memorable
events which were transacted in the other kingdoms.
It was foreseen, that a young, active prince, like Francis, and of so
martial a disposition, would soon employ the great preparations which
his predecessor before his death had made for the conquest of Milan. He
had been observed even to weep at the recital of the military exploits
of Gaston de Foix; and these tears of emulation were held to be sure
presages of his future valor. He renewed the treaty which Lewis had made
with Henry; and having left every thing secure behind him, he marched
his armies towards the south of France; pretending that his sole purpose
was to defend his kingdom against the incursions of the Swiss. This
formidable people still retained their animosity against France; and
having taken Maximilian, duke of Milan, under their protection, and in
reality reduced him to absolute dependence,--they were determined,
from views both of honor and of interest, to defend him against the
invader.[*] They fortified themselves in all those valleys of the Alps
through which they thought the French must necessarily pass; and when
Francis, with great secrecy, industry, and perseverance, made his
entrance into Piedmont by another passage, they were not dismayed, but
descended into the plain, though unprovided with cavalry, and opposed
themselves to the progress of the French arms. At Marignan, near Milan,
they fought with Francis one of the most furious and best contested
battles that is to be met with in the history of these later ages; and
it required all the heroic valor of this prince to inspire his troops
with courage sufficient to resist the desperate assault of those
mountaineers. After a bloody action in the evening, night and darkness
parted the combatants; but next morning the Swiss renewed the attack
with unabated ardor; and it was not till they had lost all their bravest
troops that they could be prevailed on to retire. The field was strewed
with twenty thousand slain on both sides; and the mareschal Trivulzio,
who had been present at eighteen pitched battles, declared that every
engagement which he had yet seen was only the play of children; the
action of Marignan was a combat of heroes.[**] After this great victory,
the conquest of the Milanese was easy and open to Francis.
The success and glory of the French monarch began to excite jealousy in
Henry; and his rapid progress, though in so distant a country, was
not regarded without apprehensions by the English ministry. Italy was,
during that age, the seat of religion, of literature, and of commerce;
and as it possessed alone that lustre which has since been shared out
among other nations, it attracted the attention of all Europe, and every
acquisition which was made there appeared more important than its weight
in the balance of power was, strictly speaking, entitled to. Henry also
thought that he had reason to complain of Francis for sending the duke
of Albany into Scotland, and undermining the power and credit of his
sister the queen dowager.[***] The repairing of the fortifications of
Terouenne was likewise regarded as a breach of treaty. But, above all,
what tended to alienate the court of England, was the disgust which
Wolsey had entertained against the French monarch.
* Mémoires du Bellai, lib. i. Guicciard. lib. xii.
** Histoire de la Ligue de Cambray.
*** Père Daniel, vol. iii. p. 31.
Henry, on the conquest of Tournay had refused to admit Lewis Gaillart,
the bishop elect, to the possession of the temporalities, because that
prelate declined taking the oath of allegiance to his new sovereign; and
Wolsey was appointed as above related, administrator of the bishopric.
As the cardinal wished to obtain the free and undisturbed enjoyment
of this revenue, he applied to Francis, and desired him to bestow
on Gaillart some see of equal value in France, and to obtain his
resignation of Tournay. Francis, who still hoped to recover possession
of that city, and who feared that the full establishment of Wolsey
in the bishopric would prove an obstacle to his purpose, had hitherto
neglected to gratify the haughty prelate; and the bishop of Tournay, by
applying to the court of Rome, had obtained a bull for his settlement in
the see. Wolsey, who expected to be indulged in every request, and who
exacted respect from the greatest princes, resented the slight put upon
him by Francis and he pushed his master to seek an occasion of quarrel
with that monarch.[*]
Maximilian, the emperor, was ready to embrace every overture for a new
enterprise; especially if attended with an offer of money, of which
he was very greedy, very prodigal, and very indigent. Richard Pace,
formerly secretary to Cardinal Bambridge, and now secretary of state,
was despatched to the court of Vienna, and had a commission to propose
some considerable payments to Maximilian:[**] he thence made a journey
into Switzerland; and by like motives engaged some of the cantons
to furnish troops to the emperor. That prince invaded Italy with a
considerable army; but being repulsed from before Milan, he retreated
with his army into Germany, made peace with France and Venice, ceded
Verona to that republic for a sum of money, and thus excluded himself
in some measure from all future access into Italy. And Henry found, that
after expending five or six hundred thousand ducats, in order to gratify
his own and the cardinal’s humor, he had only weakened his alliance with
Francis, without diminishing the power of that prince.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
** Petrus de Angleria, epist. 568.
There were many reasons which engaged the king not to proceed further at
present in his enmity against France: he could hope for assistance from
no power in Europe. Ferdinand, his father-in-law, who had often deceived
him, was declining through age and infirmities; and a speedy period
was looked for to the long and prosperous reign of that great monarch.
Charles, prince of Spain, sovereign of the Low Countries, desired
nothing but peace with Francis, who had it so much in his power, if
provoked, to obstruct his peaceable accession to that rich inheritance
which was awaiting him. The pope was overawed by the power of France,
and Venice was engaged in a close alliance with that monarchy.[*] Henry,
therefore, was constrained to remain in tranquillity during some time;
and seemed to give himself no concern with regard to the affairs of
the continent. In vain did Maximilian endeavor to allure him into some
expense, by offering to make a resignation of the imperial crown in
his favor. The artifice was too gross to succeed, even with a prince
so little politic as Henry; and Pace, his envoy, who was perfectly well
acquainted with the emperor’s motives and character, gave him warning
that the sole view of that prince, in making him so liberal an offer,
was to draw money from him.
* Guicciard. lib. xii.
{1516.} While a universal peace prevailed in Europe, that event happened
which had so long been looked for, and from which such important
consequences were expected--the death of Ferdinand the Catholic, and the
succession of his grandson Charles to his extensive dominions. The more
Charles advanced in power and authority, the more was Francis sensible
of the necessity he himself lay under of gaining the confidence and
friendship of Henry; and he took at last the only method by which he
could obtain success, the paying of court, by presents and flattery, to
the haughty cardinal.
{1518.} Bonnivet, admiral of France, was despatched to London, and he
was directed to employ all his insinuation and address, (qualities in
which he excelled,) to procure himself a place in Wolsey’s good
graces. After the ambassador had succeeded in his purpose, he took an
opportunity of expressing his master’s regret that, by mistakes and
misapprehensions, he had been so unfortunate as to lose a friendship
which he so much valued as that of his eminence. Wolsey was not deaf to
these honorable advances from so great a monarch and he was thenceforth
observed to express himself, on all occasions, in favor of the French
alliance. The more to engage him in his interests, Francis entered into
such confidence with him, that he asked his advice even in his most
secret affairs; and had recourse to him in all difficult emergencies, as
to an oracle of wisdom and profound policy. The cardinal made no
secret to the king of this private correspondence; and Henry was so
prepossessed in favor of the great capacity of his minister, that he
said he verily believed he would govern Francis as well as himself.[*]
When matters seemed sufficiently prepared, Bonnivet opened to the
cardinal his master’s desire of recovering Tournay; and Wolsey
immediately, without hesitation, engaged to effect his purpose. He took
an opportunity of representing to the king and council, that Tournay
lay so remote from Calais, that it would be very difficult, if not
impossible, in case of war, to keep the communication open between these
two places; that as it was situated on the frontiers both of France and
the Netherlands, it was exposed to attacks from both these countries,
and must necessarily, either by force or famine, fall into the hands
of the first assailant; that even in time of peace it could not be
preserved without a large garrison, to restrain the numerous and
mutinous inhabitants, ever discontented with the English government; and
that the possession of Tournay, as it was thus precarious and expensive,
so was it entirely useless, and afforded little or no means of annoying,
on occasion, the dominions either of Charles or of Francis.
These reasons were of themselves convincing, and were sure of meeting
with no opposition when they came from the mouth of the cardinal. A
treaty therefore was catered into for the ceding of Tournay; and in
order to give to that measure a more graceful appearance, it was agreed,
that the dauphin and the princess Mary, both of them infants, should be
betrothed, and that this city should be considered as the dowry of the
princess. Such kinds of agreement were then common among sovereigns;
though it was very rare that the interests and views of the parties
continued so steady as to render the intended marriages effectual.
But as Henry had been at considerable expense in building a citadel at
Tournay, Francis agreed to pay him six hundred thousand crowns at twelve
annual payments, and to put into his hands eight hostages, all of them
men of quality, for the performance of the article.[**] And lest the
cardinal should think himself neglected in these stipulations,
Francis promised him a yearly pension of twelve thousand livres, as an
equivalent for his administration of the bishopric of Tournay.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
** Mémoires du Bellal, lib. i.
The French monarch, having succeeded so well in this negotiation, began
to enlarge his views, and to hope for more considerable advantages by
practising on the vanity and self-conceit of the favorite. He redoubled
his flatteries to the cardinal, consulted him more frequently in every
doubt or difficulty, called him in each letter “father,” “tutor,”
“governor,” and professed the most unbounded deference to his advice and
opinion. All these caresses were preparatives to a negotiation for the
delivery of Calais, in consideration of a sum of money to be paid
for it; and if we may credit Polydore Virgil, who bears a particular
ill-will to Wolsey, on account of his being dispossessed of his
employment and thrown into prison by that minister, so extraordinary a
proposal met with a favorable reception from the cardinal. He ventured
not, however, to lay the matter before the council: he was content to
sound privately the opinion of the other ministers, by dropping hints
in conversation, as if he thought Calais a useless burden to the
kingdom:[*] but when he found that all men were strongly riveted in a
contrary persuasion, he thought it dangerous to proceed any further in
his purpose; and as he fell soon after into new connections with the
king of Spain, the great friendship between Francis and him began
gradually to decline.
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
The pride of Wolsey was now further increased by a great accession
of power and dignity. Cardinal Campeggio had been sent as legate into
England, in order to procure a lithe from the clergy, for enabling the
pope to oppose the progress of the Turks; a danger which was become
real, and was formidable to all Christendom, but on which the politics
of the court of Rome had built so many interested projects that it had
lost all influence on the minds of men. The clergy refused to comply
with Leo’s demands: Campeggio was recalled; and the king desired of the
pope that Wolsey, who had been joined in this commission, might alone
be invested with the legatine power, together with the right of visiting
all the clergy and monasteries, and even with suspending all the laws
of the church during a twelvemonth. Wolsey, having obtained this new
dignity, made a new display of that state and parade to which he was so
much addicted. On solemn feast-days, he was not content without saying
mass after the manner of the pope himself: not only he had bishops and
abbots to serve him; he even engaged the first nobility to give him
water and the towel. He affected a rank superior to what had ever been
claimed by any churchman in England. Warham, the primate, having written
him a letter in which he subscribed himself “your loving brother,”
Wolsey complained of his presumption in thus challenging an equality
with him. When Warham was told what offence he had given, he made light
of the matter. “Know ye not,” said he, “that this man is drunk with too
much prosperity?”
But Wolsey carried the matter much further than vain pomp and
ostentation. He erected an office which he called the legatine court;
and as he was now, by means of the pope’s commission and the king’s
favor, invested with all power, both ecclesiastical and civil, no man
knew what bounds were to be set to the authority of his new tribunal. He
conferred on it a kind of inquisitorial and censorial powers even over
the laity, and directed it to inquire into all matters of conscience;
into all conduct which had given scandal; into all actions which, though
they escaped the law, might appear contrary to good morals. Offence was
taken at this commission, which was really unbounded; and the people
were the more disgusted, when they saw a man who indulged himself in
pomp and pleasure, so severe in repressing the least appearance of
licentiousness in others. But to render his court more obnoxious, Wolsey
made one John Allen judge in it, a person of scandalous life,[*] whom he
himself, as chancellor, had, it is said, condemned for perjury: and as
it is pretended, that this man either extorted fines from every one whom
he was pleased to find guilty, or took bribes to drop prosecutions, men
concluded, and with some appearance of reason, that he shared with the
cardinal those wages of iniquity.
* Strype’s Memorials, vol. i. p. 125.
The clergy, and in particular the monks, were exposed to this tyranny;
and as the libertinism of their lives often gave a just handle against
them, they were obliged to purchase an indemnity by paying large sums
of money to the legate or his judge. Not content with this authority,
Wolsey pretended, by virtue of his commission, to assume the
jurisdiction of all the bishops’ courts, particularly that of judging of
wills and testaments; and his decisions in those important points were
deemed not a little arbitrary. As if he himself were pope, and as if
the pope could absolutely dispose of every ecclesiastical preferment, he
presented to whatever priories or benefices he pleased, without regard
to the right of election in the monks, or of patronage in the nobility
and gentry.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
No one durst carry to the king any complaint against these usurpations
of Wolsey, till Warham ventured to inform him of the discontents of his
people. Henry professed his ignorance of the whole matter. “A man,” said
he, “is not so blind any where as in his own house: but do you, father,”
added he to the primate, “go to Wolsey, and tell him, if any thing be
amiss, that he amend it.” A reproof of this kind was not likely to be
effectual: it only served to augment Wolsey’s enmity to Warham: but one
London having prosecuted Allen, the legate’s judge, in a court of law,
and having convicted him of malversation and iniquity, the clamor at
last reached the king’s ears; and he expressed such displeasure to
the cardinal, as made him ever after more cautious in exerting his
authority.
{1519.} While Henry, indulging himself in pleasure and amusement,
intrusted the government of his kingdom to this imperious minister, an
incident happened abroad which excited his attention. Maximilian, the
emperor, died; a man who, of himself, was indeed of little consequence;
but as his death left vacant the first station among Christian princes,
it set the passions of men in agitation, and proved a kind of era in
the general system of Europe. The kings of France and Spain immediately
declared themselves candidates for the imperial crown, and employed
every expedient of money or intrigue, which promised them success in
so great a point of ambition. Henry also was encouraged to advance his
pretensions; but his minister Pace, who was despatched to the electors,
found that he began to solicit too late, and that the votes of all these
princes were already preëngaged either on one side or the other.
Francis and Charlea made profession from the beginning of carrying on
this rivalship with emulation, but without enmity.
This whole narrative has been copied by all the historians from
the author here cited: there are many circumstances, however, very
suspicious, both because of the obvious partiality of the historian, and
because the parliament, when they afterwards examined Wolsey’s conduct,
could find no proof of any material offence he had ever committed, and
Francis in particular declared, that his brother Charles and he were,
fairly and openly, suitors to the same mistress; the more fortunate,
added he, will carry her; the other must rest contented.[*]
* Belcario, lib. xvi. Guicciard. lib. xiii.
But all men apprehended that this extreme moderation, however
reasonable, would not be of long duration; and that incidents would
certainly occur to sharpen the minds of the candidates against each
other. It was Charles who at length prevailed, to the great disgust of
the French monarch, who still continued to the last in the belief that
the majority of the electoral college was engaged in his favor. And as
he was some years superior in age to his rival, and, after his victory
at Marignan and conquest of the Milanese, much superior in renown, he
could not suppress his indignation at being thus, in the face of the
world, after long and anxious expectation, disappointed in so important
a pretension. From this competition, as much as from opposition of
interests, arose that emulation between those two great monarchs, which,
while it kept their whole age in movement, sets them in so remarkable
a contrast to each other: both of them princes endowed with talents and
abilities; brave, aspiring, active warlike; beloved by their servants
and subjects, dreaded by their enemies, and respected by all the world:
Francis, open, frank, liberal, munificent, carrying these virtues to an
excess which prejudiced his affairs: Charles, political, close, artful,
frugal; better qualified to obtain success in wars and in negotiations,
especially the latter. The one the more amiable man; the other the
greater monarch. The king, from his oversights and indiscretions,
naturally exposed to misfortunes; but qualified, by his spirit and
magnanimity, to extricate himself from them with honor: the emperor, by
his designing, interested character, fitted, in his greatest successes,
to excite jealousy and opposition even among his allies, and to rouse up
a multitude of enemies in the place of one whom he had subdued. And as
the personal qualities of these princes thus counterpoised each other,
so did the advantages and disadvantages of their dominions. Fortune
alone, without the concurrence of prudence or valor, never reared up of
a sudden so great a power as that which centred in the emperor Charles.
He reaped the succession of Castile, of Arragon, of Austria, of the
Netherlands: he inherited the conquest of Naples, of Grenada: election
entitled him to the empire: even the bounds of the globe seemed to
be enlarged a little before his time, that he might possess the whole
treasure, as yet entire and unrifled, of the new world. But though the
concurrence of all these advantages formed an empire greater and more
extensive than any known in Europe since that of the Romans, the kingdom
of France alone, being close, compact, united, rich, populous, and being
interposed between the provinces of the emperor’s dominions, was able
to make a vigorous opposition to his progress, and maintain the contest
against him.
Henry possessed the felicity of being able, both by the native force
of his kingdom and its situation, to hold the balance between those two
powers; and had he known to improve by policy and prudence this singular
and inestimable advantage, he was really, by means of it, a greater
potentate than either of those mighty monarchs, who seemed to strive for
the dominion of Europe. But this prince was in his character heedless,
inconsiderate, capricious, impolitic; guided by his passions or his
favorite; vain, imperious, haughty; sometimes actuated by friendship for
foreign powers, oftener by resentment, seldom by his true interest.
And thus, though he exulted in that superiority which his situation in
Europe gave him, he never employed it to his own essential and durable
advantage, or to that of his kingdom.
{1520.} Francis was well acquainted with Henry’s character, and
endeavored to accommodate his conduct to it. He solicited an interview
near Calais; in expectation of being able by familiar conversation to
gain upon his friendship and confidence. Wolsey earnestly seconded this
proposal; and hoped, in the presence of both courts, to make parade of
his riches, his splendor, and his influence over both monarchs.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. lib. xxvii.
And as Henry himself loved show and magnificence, and had entertained
a curiosity of being personally acquainted with the French king,
he cheerfully adjusted all the preliminaries of this interview. The
nobility of both nations vied with each other in pomp and expense: many
of them involved themselves in great debts, and were not able, by the
penury of their whole lives, to repair the vain splendor of a few days.
The duke of Buckingham, who, though very rich, was somewhat addicted to
frugality, finding his preparations for this festival amount to immense
sums, threw out some expressions of displeasure against the cardinal,
whom he believed the author of that measure;[*] an imprudence which was
not forgotten by this minister.
* Polyd. Vii·g. lib. xxvii. Herbert. Holingshed, p. 855.
While Henry was preparing to depart for Calais, he heard that the
emperor was arrived at Dover; and he immediately hastened thither with
the queen, in order to give a suitable reception to his royal guest.
That great prince, politic though young, being informed of the
intended interview between Francis and Henry, was apprehensive of the
consequences; and was resolved to take the opportunity, in his passage
from Spain to the Low Countries, to make the king still a higher
compliment, by paying him a visit in his own dominions. Besides the
marks of regard and attachment which he gave to Henry, he strove by
every testimony of friendship, by flattery, protestations, promises, and
presents, to gain on the vanity, the avarice, and the ambition of the
cardinal. He here instilled into this aspiring prelate the hope of
attaining the papacy; and as that was the sole point of elevation beyond
his present greatness, it was sure to attract his wishes with the same
ardor as if Fortune had never yet favored him with any of her presents.
In confidence of reaching this dignity by the emperor’s assistance, he
secretly devoted himself to that monarch’s interests; and Charles was
perhaps the more liberal of his promises, because Leo was a very young
man; and it was not likely that for many years he should be called upon
to fulfil his engagements. Henry easily observed this courtship paid
to his minister; but instead of taking umbrage at it, he only made it
a subject of vanity; and believed that, as his favor was Wolsey’s sole
support, the obeisance of such mighty monarchs to his servant was, in
reality, a more conspicuous homage to his own grandeur.
The day of Charles’s departure, Henry went over to Calais with the queen
and his whole court; and thence proceeded to Guisnes, a small town near
the frontiers. Francis, attended in like manner, came to Ardres, a few
miles distant; and the two monarchs met, for the first time, in the
fields, at a place situated between these two towns, but still within
the English pale; for Francis agreed to pay this compliment to Henry, in
consideration of that prince’s passing the sea that he might be
present at the interview. Wolsey, to whom both kings had intrusted the
regulation of the ceremonial, contrived this circumstance, in order to
do honor to his master. The nobility both of France and England here
displayed their magnificence with such emulation and profuse expense, as
procured to the place of interview the name of “the field of the cloth
of gold.”
The two monarchs, after saluting each other in the most cordial manner,
retired into a tent which had been erected on purpose, and they held a
secret conference together. Henry here proposed to make some amendments
on the articles of their former alliance; and he began to read the
treaty, “I Henry, king:” these were the first words; and he stopped
a moment. He subjoined only the words “of England,” without adding
“France,” the usual style of the English monarchs.[*] Francis remarked
this delicacy, and expressed by a smile his approbation of it.
He took an opportunity soon after of paying a compliment to Henry of a
more flattering nature. That generous prince, full of honor himself,
and incapable of distrusting others, was shocked at all the precautions
which were observed whenever he had an interview with the English
monarch: the number of their guards and attendants was carefully
reckoned on both sides: every step was scrupulously measured and
adjusted: and if the two kings intended to pay a visit to the queens,
they departed from their respective quarters at the same instant, which
was marked by the firing of a culverin; they passed each other in the
middle point between the places; and the moment that Henry entered
Ardres, Francis put himself into the hands of the English at Guisnes.
In order to break off this tedious ceremonial, which contained so many
dishonorable implications, Francis one day took with him two gentlemen
and a page, and rode directly into Guisnes. The guards were surprised at
the presence of the monarch, who called aloud to them, “You are all my
prisoners: carry me to your master.” Henry was equally astonished at the
appearance of Francis; and taking him in his arms, “My brother,” said
he, “you have here played me the most agreeable trick in the world,
and have showed me the full confidence I may place in you: I surrender
myself your prisoner from this moment.” He took from his neck a collar
of pearls, worth fifteen thousand angels;[**] and putting it about
Francis’s, begged him to wear it for the sake of his prisoner.
* Mémoires de Fleuranges.
** An angel was then estimated at seven shillings,* or near
twelve of our present money.
Francis agreed, but on condition that Henry should wear a bracelet
of which he made him a present, and which was double in value to
the collar.[*] The king went next day to Ardres without guards or
attendants; and confidence being now fully established between the
monarchs, they employed the rest of the time entirely in tournaments and
festivals.
A defiance had been sent by the two kings to each other’s court, and
through all the chief cities in Europe, importing, that Henry and
Francis, with fourteen aids, would be ready, in the plains of Picardy,
to answer all comers that were gentlemen, at tilt, tournament, and
barriers. The monarchs, in order to fulfil this challenge, advanced
into the field on horseback, Francis surrounded with Henry’s guards, and
Henry with those of Francis. They were gorgeously apparelled; and were
both of them the most comely personages of their age, as well as the
most expert in every military exercise. They carried away the prize at
all trials in those rough and dangerous pastimes; and several horses and
riders were overthrown by their vigor and dexterity. The ladies were
the judges in these feats of chivalry, and put an end to the rencounter
whenever they judged it expedient. Henry erected a spacious house of
wood and canvas, which had been framed in London; and he there feasted
the French monarch. He had placed a motto on this fabric, under the
figure of an English archer embroidered on it, “Cui adhæreo præest,” He
prevails whom I favor;[**] expressing his own situation, as holding in
his hands the balance of power among the potentates of Europe. In these
entertainments, more than in any serious business, did the two kings
pass their time, till their departure.
* Mémoires de Fleuranges.
** Mezeray.
Henry paid then a visit to the emperor and Margaret of Savoy at
Gravelines, and engaged them to go along with him to Calais, and
pass some days in that fortress. The artful and politic Charles here
completed the impression which he had begun to make on Henry and his
favorite, and effaced all the friendship to which the frank and generous
nature of Francis had given birth. As the house of Austria began
sensibly to take the ascendant over the French monarchy, the interests
of England required that some support should be given to the latter,
and, above all, that any important wars should be prevented which might
bestow on either of them a decisive superiority over the other. But the
jealousy of the English against France has usually prevented a cordial
union between those nations; and Charles, sensible of this hereditary
animosity, and desirous further to flatter Henry’s vanity, had made him
an offer, (an offer in which Francis was afterwards obliged to concur,)
that he should be entirely arbiter in any dispute or difference that
might arise between the monarchs. But the masterpiece of Charles’s
politics was the securing of Wolsey in his interests, by very important
services, and still higher promises. He renewed assurances of assisting
him in obtaining the papacy; and he put him in present possession of the
revenues belonging to the sees of Badajoz and Paleneia in Castile. The
acquisitions of Wolsey were now become so exorbitant, that, joined to
the pensions from foreign powers which Henry allowed him to possess, his
revenues were computed nearly to equal those which belonged to the crown
itself; and he spent them with a magnificence; or rather an ostentation,
which gave general offence to the people; and even lessened his master
in the eyes of all foreign nations.[*]
* Polyd. Virg. Hall.
The violent personal emulation and political jealousy which had taken
place between the emperor and the French king, soon broke out in
hostilities. But while these ambitious and warlike princes were acting
against each other in almost every part of Europe, they still made
professions of the strongest desire of peace; and both of them
incessantly carried their complaints to Henry, as to the umpire between
them. The king, who pretended to be neutral, engaged them to send their
ambassadors to Calais, there to negotiate a peace under the mediation
of Wolsey and the pope’s nuncio. The emperor was well apprised of the
partiality of these mediators; and his demands in the conference were
so unreasonable as plainly proved him conscious of the advantage. He
required the restitution of Burgundy, a province which many years before
had been ceded to France by treaty, and which, if in his possession,
would have given him entrance into the heart of that kingdom: and he
demanded to be freed from the homage which his ancestors had always done
for Flanders and Artois, and which he himself had by the treaty of Noyon
engaged to renew.
{1521.} On Francis’s rejecting these terms, the congress of Calais broke
up; and Wolsey soon after took a journey to Bruges, where he met with
the emperor. He was received with the same state, magnificence,
and respect, as if he had been the king of England himself; and he
concluded, in his master’s name, an offensive alliance with the pope
and the emperor against France. He stipulated that England should next
summer invade that kingdom with forty thousand men; and he betrothed
to Charles the princess Mary, the king’s only child, who had now some
prospect of inheriting the crown. This extravagant alliance, which was
prejudicial to the interests, and might have proved fatal to the liberty
and independence, of the kingdom, was the result of the humors and
prejudices of the king, and the private views and expectations of the
cardinal.
The people saw every day new instances of the uncontrolled authority of
this minister. The duke of Buckingham, constable of England, the first
nobleman both for family and fortune in the kingdom, had imprudently
given disgust to the cardinal; and it was not long before he found
reason to repent of his indiscretion. He seems to have been a man
full of levity and rash projects; and being infatuated with judicial
astrology, he entertained a commerce with one Hopkins, a Carthusian
friar, who encouraged him in the notion of his mounting one day the
throne of England. He was descended by a female from the duke of
Glocester, youngest son of Edward III.; and though his claim to the
crown was thereby very remote, he had been so unguarded as to let fall
some expressions, as if he thought himself best entitled, in case the
king should die without issue, to possess the royal dignity. He had not
even abstained from threats against the king’s life; and had provided
himself with arms, which he intended to employ, in case a favorable
opportunity should offer. He was brought to a trial; and the duke
of Norfolk, whose son, the earl of Surrey, had married Buckingham’s
daughter, was created lord steward, in order to preside at this solemn
procedure. The jury consisted of a duke, a marquis, seven earls, and
twelve barons; and they gave their verdict against Buckingham, which
was soon after carried into execution. There is no reason to think the
sentence unjust;[*] but as Buckingham’s crimes seemed to proceed more
from indiscretion than deliberate malice, the people, who loved him,
expected that the king would grant him a pardon, and imputed their
disappointment to the animosity and revenge of the cardinal.
* Herbert. Hall. Stowe, p. 513. Holingshed, p. 862.
The king’s own jealousy, however, of all persons allied to the crown,
was, notwithstanding his undoubted title, very remarkable during the
whole course of his reign; and was alone sufficient to render him
implacable against Buckingham. The office of constable, which this
nobleman inherited from the Bohuns, earls of Hereford, was forfeited,
and was never after revived in England.
CHAPTER XXIX
HENRY VIII.
{1521.} During some years, many parts of Europe had been agitated with
those religious controversies which produced the reformation, one of the
greatest events in history: but as it was not till this time that the
king of England publicly took part in the quarrel, we had no occasion to
give any account of its rise and progress. It will now be necessary to
explain these theological disputes; or, what is more material, to trace
from their origin those abuses which so generally diffused the opinion,
that a reformation of the church or ecclesiastial order was become
highly expedient, if not absolutely necessary. We shall be better
enabled to comprehend the subject if we take the matter a little higher,
and reflect a moment on the reasons why there must be an ecclesiastical
order and a public establishment of religion in every civilized
community. The importance of the present occasion will, I hope, excuse
this short digression.
Most of the arts and professions in a state are of such a nature, that,
while they promote the interests of the society, they are also useful or
agreeable to some individuals; and, in that case, the constant rule of
the magistrate, except, perhaps, on the first introduction of any art,
is to leave the profession to itself, and trust its encouragement to
those who reap the benefit of it. The artisans, finding their profits to
rise by the favor of their customers, increase as much as possible their
skill and industry; and as matters are not disturbed by any injudicious
tampering, the commodity is always sure to be at all times nearly
proportioned to the demand.
But there are also some callings which, though useful and even necessary
in a state, bring no particular advantage or pleasure to any individual;
and the supreme power is obliged to alter its conduct with regard to the
retainers of those professions. It must give them public encouragement
in order to their subsistence; and it must provide against that
negligence to which they will naturally be subject, either by annexing
peculiar honors to the profession, by establishing a long subordination
of ranks and a strict dependence, or by some other expedient. The
persons employed in the finances, armies, fleets, and magistracy, are
instances of this order of men.
It may naturally be thought, at first sight, that the ecclesiastics
belong to the first class, and that their encouragement, as well as that
of lawyers and physicians, may safely be intrusted to the liberality of
individuals, who are attached to their doctrines, and who find benefit
or consolation from their spiritual ministry and assistance. Their
industry and vigilance will no doubt, be whetted by such an additional
motive; and their skill in their profession, as well as their address
in governing the minds of the people, must receive daily increase from
their increasing practice, study, and attention.
But if we consider the matter more closely, we shall find, that this
interested diligence of the clergy is what every wise legislator will
study to prevent; because in every religion, except the true, it is
highly pernicious, and it has even a natural tendency to pervert the
true, by infusing into it a strong mixture of superstition, folly, and
delusion. Each ghostly practitioner, in order to render himself more
precious and sacred in the eyes of his retainers, will inspire them
with the most violent abhorrence of all other sects, and continually
endeavor, by some novelty, to excite the languid devotion of his
audience. No regard will be paid to truth, morals, or decency, in the
doctrines inculcated. Every tenet will be adopted that best suits the
disorderly affections of the human frame. Customers will be drawn to
each conventicle by new industry and address, in practising on the
passions and credulity of the populace. And, in the end, the civil
magistrate will find, that he has dearly paid for his pretended
frugality, in saving a fixed establishment for the priests; and that in
reality the most decent and advantageous composition which he can make
with the spiritual guides is to bribe their indolence, by assigning
stated salaries to their profession, and rendering it superfluous
for them to be further active than merely to prevent their flock from
straying in quest of new pastures. And in this manner ecclesiastical
establishments, though commonly they arose at first from religious
views, prove in the end advantageous to the political interests of
society.
But we may observe, that few ecclesiastical establishments have been
fixed upon a worse foundation than that of the church of Rome, or have
been attended with circumstances more hurtful to the peace and happiness
of mankind. The large revenues, privileges, immunities, and powers of
the clergy, rendered them formidable to the civil magistrate; and armed
with too extensive authority an order of men who always adhere
closely together, and who never want a plausible pretence for their
encroachments and usurpations. The higher dignities of the church
served, indeed, to the support of gentry and nobility; but by the
establishment of monasteries, many of the lowest vulgar were taken
from the useful arts, and maintained in those receptacles of sloth
and ignorance. The supreme head of the church was a foreign potentate,
guided by interests always different from those of the community,
sometimes contrary to them. And as the hierarchy was necessarily
solicitous to preserve a unity of faith, rites, and ceremonies, all
liberty of thought ran a manifest risk of being extinguished; and
violent persecutions, or, what was worse, a stupid and abject credulity,
took place every where.
To increase these evils, the Church, though she possessed large
revenues, was not contented with her acquisitions, but retained a power
of practising further on the ignorance of mankind. She even bestowed
on each individual priest a power of enriching himself by the voluntary
oblations of the faithful, and left him still an urgent motive for
diligence and industry in his calling. And thus that church, though
an expensive and burdensome establishment, was liable to many of the
inconveniences which belong to an order of priests, trusting entirely to
their own art and invention for obtaining a subsistence.
The advantages attending the Romish hierarchy were but a small
compensation for its inconveniences. The ecclesiastical privileges,
during barbarous times, had served as a check on the despotism of
kings. The union of all the western churches under the supreme pontiff
facilitated the intercourse of nations, and tended to bind all the parts
of Europe into a close connection with each other. And the pomp and
splendor of worship which belonged to so opulent an establishment,
contributed in some respect to the encouragement of the fine arts,
and began to diffuse a general elegance of taste by uniting it with
religion.
It will easily be conceived that, though the balance of evil prevailed
in the Romish church, this was not the chief reason which produced the
reformation. A concurrence of incidents must have contributed to forward
that great revolution.
Leo X., by his generous and enterprising temper, had much exhausted his
treasury, and was obliged to employ every invention which might yield
money, in order to support his projects, pleasures, and liberalities.
The scheme of selling indulgences was suggested to him, as an expedient
which had often served in former times to draw money from the Christian
world, and make devout people willing contributors to the grandeur and
riches of the court of Rome. The church, it was supposed, was possessed
of a great stock of merit, as being entitled to all the good works of
all the saints, beyond what were employed in their own justification;
and even to the merits of Christ himself, which were infinite and
unbounded; and from this unexhausted treasury the pope might retail
particular portions, and by that traffic acquire money to be employed in
pious purposes, in resisting the infidels, or subduing schismatics. When
the money came into his exchequer, the greater part of it was usually
diverted to other purposes.[*]
It is commonly believed that Leo, from the penetration of his genius,
and his familiarity with ancient literature, was fully acquainted with
the ridicule and falsity of the doctrines which, as supreme pontiff,
he was obliged by his interest to promote: it is the less wonder,
therefore, that he employed for his profit those pious frauds which
his predecessors, the most ignorant and credulous, had always, under
plausible pretences, made use of for their selfish purposes. He
published the sale of a general indulgence; [**] and as his expenses
had not only exhausted his usual revenue, but even anticipated the money
expected from this extraordinary expedient, the several branches of it
were openly given away to particular persons, who were entitled to levy
the imposition. The produce, particularly of Saxony and the countries
bordering on the Baltic, was assigned to his sister Magdalene, married
to Cibo, natural son of Innocent VIII.; and she, in order to enhance her
profit, had farmed out the revenue to one Arcemboldi, a Genoese, once a
merchant, now a bishop, who still retained all the lucrative arts of his
former profession.[***] The Austin friars had usually been employed in
Saxony to preach the indulgences, and from this trust had derived both
profit and consideration: but Arcemboldi, fearing lest practice might
have taught them means to secrete the money,[****] and expecting no
extraordinary success from the ordinary methods of collection, gave this
occupation to the Dominicans.
* Father Paul and Sleidan.
** In 1517.
*** Father Paul. Sleidan.
**** Father Paul, lib. 1
These monks, in order to prove themselves worthy of the distinction
conferred on them, exaggerated the benefits of indulgences by the most
unbounded panegyrics; and advanced doctrines on that head, which,
though not more ridiculous than those already received, were not as yet
entirely familiar to the ears of the people.[*] [4] To add to the scandal,
the collectors of this revenue are said to have lived very licentious
lives, and to have spent in taverns, gaming-houses, and places still
more infamous, the money which devout persons had saved from their usual
expenses, in order to purchase a remission of their sins.[**]
All these circumstances might have given offence, but would have been
attended with no event of any importance, had there not arisen a man
qualified to take advantage of the incident. Martin Luther, an Austin
friar, professor in the university of Wittemberg, resenting the affront
put upon his order, began to preach against these abuses in the sale
of indulgences; and being naturally of a fiery temper, and provoked by
opposition, he proceeded even to decry indulgences themselves; and was
thence carried, by the heat of dispute, to question the authority of the
pope, from which his adversaries derived their chief arguments against
him.[***] Still, as he enlarged his reading, in order to support these
tenets, he discovered some new abuse or error in the church of Rome;
and finding his opinions greedily hearkened to, he promulgated them by
writing, discourse, sermon, conference; and daily increased the number
of his disciples. All Saxony, all Germany, all Europe, were in a very
little time filled with the voice of this daring innovator; and men,
roused from that lethargy in which they had so long slept, began to call
in question the most ancient and most received opinions. The elector of
Saxony, favorable to Luther’s doctrine, protected him from the violence
of the papal jurisdiction: the republic of Zurich even reformed their
church according to the new model: many sovereigns of the empire, and
the imperial diet itself, showed a favorable disposition towards it: and
Luther, a man naturally inflexible, vehement, opinionative, was become
incapable, either from promises of advancement or terrors of severity,
to relinquish a sect of which he was himself the founder, and which
brought him a glory superior to all others--the glory of dictating the
religious faith and principles of multitudes.
* See note D, at the end of the volume.
** Father Paul, lib. i.
*** Father Paul. Sleidan
The rumor of these innovations soon reached England and as there
still subsisted in that kingdom great remains of the Lollards, whose
principles resembled those of Luther, the new doctrines secretly gained
many partisans among the laity of all ranks and denominations. But Henry
had been educated in a strict attachment to the church of Rome; and he
bore a particular prejudice against Luther, who, in his writings, spoke
with contempt of Thomas Aquinas, the king’s favorite author: he opposed
himself, therefore, to the progress of the Lutheran tenets, by all the
influence which his extensive and almost absolute authority conferred
upon him: he even under took to combat them with weapons not usually
employed by monarchs, especially those in the flower of their age and
force of their passions. He wrote a book in Latin against the principles
of Luther; a performance which, if allowance be made for the subject and
the age, does no discredit to his capacity. He sent a copy of it to Leo,
who received so magnificent a present with great testimony of
regard; and conferred on him the title of “defender of the faith;” an
appellation still retained by the kings of England. Luther, who was in
the heat of controversy, soon published an answer to Henry; and, without
regard to the dignity of his antagonist, treated him with all the
acrimony of style to which, in the course of his polemics, he had
so long been accustomed. The king, by this ill usage, was still more
prejudiced against the new doctrines; but the public, who naturally
favor the weaker party, were inclined to attribute to Luther the victory
in the dispute.[*] And as the controversy became more illustrious by
Henry’s entering the lists, it drew still more the attention of mankind;
and the Lutheran doctrine daily acquired new converts in every part of
Europe.
* Father Paul, lib. i.
The quick and surprising progress of this bold sect may justly in part
be ascribed to the late invention of printing, and revival of learning:
not that reason bore any considerable share in opening men’s eyes with
regard to the impostures of the Romish church; for of all branches of
literature, philosophy had, as yet, and till long afterwards, made
the most inconsiderable progress; neither is there any instance, that
argument has ever been able to free the people from that enormous load
of absurdity with which superstition has every where overwhelmed them;
not to mention, that the rapid advance of the Lutheran doctrine and the
violence with which it was embraced, prove sufficiently, that it owed
not its success to reason and reflection. The art of printing and the
revival of learning forwarded its progress in another manner. By means
of that art, the books of Luther and his sectaries full of vehemence,
declamation, and a rude eloquence, were propagated more quickly, and
in greater numbers. The minds of men, somewhat awakened from a profound
sleep of so many centuries, were prepared for every novelty, and
scrupled less to tread in any unusual path which was opened to them. And
as copies of the Scriptures and other ancient monuments of the Christian
faith became more common, men perceived the innovations which were
introduced after the first centuries; and though argument and reasoning
could not give conviction, an historical fact, well supported, was able
to make impression on their understandings. Many of the powers, indeed,
assumed by the church of Rome, were very ancient, and were prior to
almost every political government established in Europe: but as the
ecclesiastics would not agree to possess their privileges as matters
of civil right, which time might render valid, but appealed still to a
divine origin, men were tempted to look into their primitive charter,
and they could, without much difficulty, perceive its defect in truth
and authenticity.
In order to bestow on this topic the greater influence, Luther and his
followers, not satisfied with opposing the pretended divinity of the
Romish church, and displaying the temporal inconveniences of that
establishment, carried matters much further, and treated the religion of
their ancestors as abominable, detestable, damnable; foretold by
sacred writ itself as the source of all wickedness and pollution. They
denominated the pope Antichrist, called his communion the scarlet whore,
and gave to Rome the appellation of Babylon; expressions which, however
applied, were to be found in Scripture, and which were better calculated
to operate on the multitude than the most solid arguments. Excited by
contest and persecution on the one hand, by success and applause on the
other, many of the reformers carried to the greatest extremities their
opposition to the church of Rome; and in contradiction to the multiplied
superstitions with which that communion was loaded, they adopted an
enthusiastic strain of devotion, which admitted of no observances,
rites, or ceremonies, but placed all merit in a mysterious species of
faith in inward vision, rapture, and ecstasy. The new sectaries seized
with this spirit, were indefatigable in the propagation of their
doctrine, and set at defiance all the anathemas and punishments with
which the Roman pontiff endeavored to overwhelm them.
That the civil power, however, might afford them protection against the
ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the Lutherans advanced doctrines favorable
in some respect to the temporal authority of sovereigns. They inveighed
against the abuses of the court of Rome, with which men were at that
time generally discontented; and they exhorted princes to reinstate
themselves in those powers, of which the encroaching spirit of the
ecclesiastics, especially of the sovereign pontiff, had so long bereaved
them. They condemned celibacy and monastic vows, and thereby opened the
doors of the convents to those who were either tired of the obedience
and chastity, or disgusted with the license, in which they had hitherto
lived. They blamed the excessive riches, the idleness, the libertinism
of the clergy; and pointed out their treasures and revenues as lawful
spoil to the first invader. And as the ecclesiastics had hitherto
conducted a willing and a stupid audience, and were totally unacquainted
with controversy, much more with every species of true literature, they
were unable to defend themselves against men armed with authorities,
quotations, and popular topics, and qualified to triumph in every
altercation or debate. Such were the advantages with which the reformers
began their attack on the Romish hierarchy; and such were the causes of
their rapid and astonishing success.
Leo X., whose oversights and too supine trust in the profound ignorance
of the people had given rise to this sect, but whose sound judgment,
moderation, and temper, were well qualified to retard its progress, died
in the flower of his age, a little after he received the king’s book
against Luther, and he was succeeded in the papal chair by Adrian, a
Fleming, who had been tutor to the emperor Charles. This man was fitted
to gain on the reformers by the integrity, candor, and simplicity of
manners which distinguished his character but, so violent were their
prejudices against the church, he rather hurt the cause by his imprudent
exercise of those virtues. He frankly confessed, that many abominable
and detestable practices prevailed in the court of Rome; and by this
sincere avowal, he gave occasion of much triumph to the Lutherans. This
pontiff also, whose penetration was not equal to his good intentions,
was seduced to concur in that league which Charles and Henry had formed
against France;[*] and he thereby augmented the scandal occasioned by
the practice of so many preceding popes, who still made their spiritual
arms subservient to political purposes.
{1522.} The emperor, who knew that Wolsey had received a disappointment
in his ambitious hopes by the election of Adrian, and who dreaded the
resentment of that haughty minister, was solicitous to repair the breach
made in their friendship by this incident. He paid another visit to
England; and besides flattering the vanity of the king and the cardinal,
he renewed to Wolsey all the promises which he had made him of seconding
his pretensions to the papal throne. Wolsey, sensible that Adrian’s
great age and infirmities promised a speedy vacancy, dissembled his
resentment, and was willing to hope for a more prosperous issue to the
next election. The emperor renewed the treaty made at Bruges, to which
some articles were added; and he agreed to indemnify both the king and
Wolsey for the revenue which they should lose by a breach with France.
The more to ingratiate himself with Henry and the English nation, he
gave to Surrey, admiral of England, a commission for being admiral of
his dominions; and he himself was installed knight of the garter
at London. After a stay of six weeks in England, he embarked at
Southampton, and in ten days arrived in Spain, where he soon pacified
the tumults which had arisen in his absence.[**]
* Guicciard. lib. xiv.
** Petrus de Angleria, epist. 765.
The king declared war against France; and this measure was founded on so
little reason, that he could allege nothing as a ground of quarrel, but
Francis’s refusal to submit to his arbitration, and his sending Albany
into Scotland. This last step had not been taken by the French king,
till he was quite assured of Henry’s resolution to attack him. Surrey
landed some troops at Cherbourg, in Normandy; and after laying waste the
country, he sailed to Morlaix, a rich town in Brittany, which he took
and plundered. The English merchants had great property in that place,
which was no more spared by the soldiers than the goods of the French.
Surrey then left the charge of the fleet to the vice-admiral; and sailed
to Calais, where he took the command of the English army destined for
the invasion of France. This army, when joined by forces from the Low
Countries, under the command of the count de Buren, amounted in the
whole to eighteen thousand men.
The French had made it a maxim, in almost all their wars with the
English since the reign of Charles V., never, without great necessity,
to hazard a general engagement; and the duke of Vendôme, who commanded
the French army, now embraced this wise policy. He supplied the towns
most exposed, especially Boulogne, Montreuil, Terouenne, Hedin with
strong garrisons and plenty of provisions: he himself took post at
Abbeville, with some Swiss and French infantry, and a body of cavalry:
the count of Guise encamped under Montreuil with six thousand men. These
two bodies were in a situation to join upon occasion; to throw supply
into any town that was threatened; and to harass the English in every
movement. Surrey, who was not provided with magazines, first divided
his troops for the convenience of subsisting them; but finding that
his quarters were every moment beaten up by the activity of the French
generals, he drew together his forces, and laid siege to Hedin. But
neither did he succeed in this enterprise. The garrison made vigorous
sallies upon his army: the French forces assaulted him from without:
great rains fell: fatigue and bad weather threw the soldiers into
dysenteries: and Surrey was obliged to raise the siege, and put his
troops into winter quarters about the end of October. His rear guard was
attacked at Pas, in Artois, and five or six hundred men were cut off;
nor could all his efforts make him master of one place within the French
frontier.
The allies were more successful in Italy. Lautrec, who commanded the
French, lost a great battle at Bicocca, near Milan; and was obliged to
retire with the remains of his army. This misfortune, which proceeded
from Francis’s negligence in not supplying Lautrec with money,[*]
was followed by the loss of Genoa. The castle of Cremona was the sole
fortress in Italy which remained in the hands of the French.
* Guicciard. lib. xiv.
Europe was now in such a situation, and so connected by different
alliances and interests, that it was almost impossible for war to be
kindled in one part, and not diffuse itself throughout the whole; but
of all the leagues among kingdoms the closest was that which had so long
subsisted between France and Scotland; and the English, while at war
with the former nation, could not hope to remain long unmolested on the
northern frontier. No sooner had Albany arrived in Scotland, than he
took measures for kindling a war with England; and he summoned the whole
force of the kingdom to meet in the fields of Rosline.[*] He thence
conducted the army southwards into Annandale, and prepared to pass the
borders at Solway Frith. But many of the nobility were disgusted with
the regent’s administration; and observing that his connections with
Scotland were feeble in comparison of those which he maintained with
France, they murmured that for the sake of foreign interests, their
peace should so often be disturbed and war, during their king’s
minority, be wantonly entered into with a neighboring nation, so much
superior in force and riches. The Gordons, in particular, refused to
advance any farther; and Albany, observing a general discontent to
prevail was obliged to conclude a truce with Lord Dacres, warden of the
English west marches. Soon after he departed for France; and lest the
opposite faction should gather force in his absence, he sent thither
before him the earl of Angus, husband to the queen dowager.
{1523.} Next year, Henry, that he might take advantage of the regent’s
absence, marched an army into Scotland under the command of Surrey, who
ravaged the Merse and Teviotdale without opposition, and burned the town
of Jedburgh. The Scots had neither king nor regent to conduct them:
the two Humes had been put to death: Angus was in a manner banished: no
nobleman of vigor or authority remained, who was qualified to assume the
government: and the English monarch, who knew the distressed situation
of the country, determined to push them to extremity, in hopes of
engaging them, by the sense of their present weakness, to make a solemn
renunciation of the French alliance, and to embrace that of England.[*]
He even gave them hopes of contracting a marriage between the lady Mary,
heiress of England, and their young monarch; an expedient which would
forever unite the two kingdoms:[**] and the queen dowager, with her
whole party, recommended every where the advantages of this alliance,
and of a confederacy with Henry.
* Buchanan, lib. xiv. Drummond. Pitscottie.
** Buchanan, lib. xiv. Herbert.
*** Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 39.
They said that the interests of Scotland had too long been sacrificed to
those of the French nation, who, whenever they found themselves reduced
to difficulties, called for the assistance of their allies; but were
ready to abandon them as soon as they found their advantage in making
peace with England: that where a small state entered into so close a
confederacy with a greater, it must always expect this treatment, as
a consequence of the unequal alliance; but there were peculiar
circumstances in the situation of the kingdoms, which, in the present
case, rendered it inevitable: that France was so distant, and so divided
from them by sea, that she scarcely could, by any means, and never could
in time, send succors to the Scots, sufficient to protect them against
ravages from the neighboring kingdom: that nature had, in a manner,
formed an alliance between the two British nations; having enclosed them
in the same island; given them the same manners, language, laws, and
form of government; and prepared every thing for an intimate union
between them: and that, if national antipathies were abolished, which
would soon be the effect of peace, these two kingdoms, secured by the
ocean and by their domestic force, could set at defiance all foreign
enemies, and remain forever safe and unmolested.
The partisans of the French alliance, on the other hand, said, that the
very reasons which were urged in favor of a league with England, the
vicinity of the kingdom and its superior force, were the real causes
why a sincere and durable confederacy could never be formed with that
hostile nation: that among neighboring states occasions of quarrel were
frequent, and the more powerful would be sure to seize every frivolous
pretence for oppressing the weaker, and reducing it to subjection: that
as the near neighborhood of France and England had kindled a war almost
perpetual between them, it was the interest of the Scots, if they wished
to maintain their independence, to preserve their league with the former
kingdom, which balanced the force of the latter: that if they deserted
that old and salutary alliance on which their importance in Europe
chiefly depended, their ancient enemies, stimulated both by interest and
by passion, would soon invade them with superior force, and bereave them
of all their liberties: or if they delayed the attack, the insidious
peace, by making the Scots forget the use of arms, would only prepare
the way for a slavery more certain and more irretrievable.[*]
* Buchanan, lib. xiv.
The arguments employed by the French party, being seconded by the
natural prejudices of the people, seemed most prevalent: and when the
regent himself, who had been long detained beyond his appointed time by
the danger from the English fleet, at last appeared among them, he was
able to throw the balance entirely on that side. By authority of the
convention of states, he assembled an army, with a view of avenging the
ravages committed by the English in the beginning of the campaign; and
he led them southwards towards the borders. But when they were passing
the Tweed at the bridge of Melross, the English party raised again such
opposition, that Albany thought proper to make a retreat. He marched
downwards, along the banks of the Tweed, keeping that river on his
right; and fixed his camp opposite to Werkcastle, which Surrey had
lately repaired. He sent over some troops to besiege this fortress, who
made a breach in it, and stormed some of the outworks: but the regent,
hearing of the approach of an English army, and discouraged by the
advanced season, thought proper to disband his forces and retire to
Edinburgh. Soon after, he went over to France, and never again returned
to Scotland. The Scottish nation, agitated by their domestic factions,
were not, during several years, in a condition to give any more
disturbance to England; and Henry had full leisure to prosecute his
designs on the continent.
The reason why the war against France proceeded so slowly on the part
of England, was the want of money. All the treasures of Henry VII. were
long ago dissipated; the king’s habits of expense still remained; and
his revenues were unequal even to the ordinary charge of government,
much more to his military enterprises. He had last year caused a general
survey to be made of the kingdom; the numbers of men, their years,
profession, stock, revenue;[*] and expressed great satisfaction on
finding the nation so opulent. He then issued privy seals to the most
wealthy, demanding loans of particular sums: this act of power, though
somewhat irregular and tyrannical, had been formerly practised by kings
of England; and the people were now familiarized to it. But Henry, this
year, carried his authority much further. He published an edict for
a general tax upon his subjects, which he still called a loan; and he
levied five shillings in the pound upon the clergy, two shillings upon
the laity. This pretended loan, as being more regular, was really more
dangerous to the liberties of the people, and was a precedent for the
king’s imposing taxes without consent of parliament.
* Herbert. Stowe, p. 514.
Henry soon after summoned a parliament, together with a convocation; and
found neither of them in a disposition to complain of the infringement
of their privileges. It was only doubted how far they would carry their
liberality to the king. Wolsey, who had undertaken the management of the
affair, began with the convocation, in hopes that their example would
influence the parliament to grant a large supply. He demanded a moiety
of the ecclesiastical revenues to be levied in five years, or two
shillings in the pound during that time; and though he met with
opposition, he reprimanded the refractory members in such severe terms,
that his request was at last complied with. The cardinal afterwards,
attended by several of the nobility and prelates, came to the house of
commons; and in a long and elaborate speech laid before them the public
necessities, the danger of an invasion from Scotland, the affronts
received from France, the league in which the king was engaged with the
pope and the emperor; and he demanded a grant of eight hundred thousand
pounds, divided into four yearly payments; a sum computed, from the late
survey or valuation, to be equal to four shillings in the pound of one
year’s revenue, or one shilling in the pound yearly, according to the
division proposed.[*] So large a grant was unusual from the commons;
and though the cardinal’s demand was seconded by Sir Thomas More the
speaker, and several other members attached to the court, the house
could not be prevailed with to comply.[**]
* This survey or valuation is liable to much suspicion, as
fixing the rents a great deal too high; unless the sum
comprehend the revenues of all kinds, industry as well as
land and money.
** Herbert. Stowe, p. 518. Parl. Hist. Strype, vol. i. p.
49, 59.
[Illustration: 1-371-more.jpg SIR THOMAS MORE]
They only voted two shillings in the pound on all who enjoyed twenty
pounds a year and upwards; one shilling on all who possessed between
twenty pounds and forty shillings a year; and on the other subjects
above sixteen years of age, a groat a head. This last sum was divided
into two yearly payments; the former into four, and was not therefore at
the utmost above sixpence in the pound. The grant of the commons was
but the moiety of the sum demanded; and the cardinal, therefore, much
mortified with the disappointment, came again to the house, and desired
to reason with such as refused to comply with the king’s request. He
was told that it was a rule of the house never to reason but among
themselves; and his desire was rejected. The commons, however, enlarged
a little their former grant, and voted an imposition of three shillings
in the pound on all possessed of fifty pounds a year and upwards.[*] [5]
The proceedings of this house of commons evidently discover the humor of
the times: they were extremely tenacious of their money, and refused a
demand of the crown which was far from being unreasonable; but they
allowed an encroachment on national privileges to pass uncensured,
though its direct tendency was to subvert entirely the liberties of the
people. The king was so dissatisfied with this saving disposition of the
commons, that, as he had not called a parliament during seven years
before, he allowed seven more to elapse before he summoned another. And
on pretence of necessity, he levied in one year, from all who were worth
forty pounds, what the parliament had granted him payable in four
years;[**] a new invasion of national privileges. These irregularities
were commonly ascribed to the cardinal’s counsels, who, trusting to the
protection afforded him by his ecclesiastical character, was the less
scrupulous in his encroachment on the civil rights of the nation.
* See note E, at the end of the volume.
** Speed. Hall. Herbert.
That ambitious prelate received this year a new disappointment in his
aspiring views. The pope, Adrian VI., died; and Clement VII., of the
family of Medicis, was elected in his place, by the concurrence of
the imperial party. Wolsey could not perceive the insincerity of the
emperor, and he concluded that that prince would never second his
pretensions to the papal chair. As he highly resented this injury, he
began thenceforth to estrange himself from the imperial court, and
to pave the way for a union between his master and the French king.
Meanwhile he concealed his disgust; and after congratulating the new
pope on his promotion, applied for a continuation of the legatine powers
which the two former popes had conferred upon him. Clement, knowing the
importance of gaining his friendship, granted him a commission for life;
and, by this unusual concession, he in a manner transferred to him the
whole papal authority in England. In some particulars Wolsey made a good
use of this extensive power. He erected two colleges, one at Oxford,
another at Ipswich, the place of his nativity: he sought all over Europe
for learned men to supply the chairs of these colleges; and in order to
bestow endowments on them, he suppressed some smaller monasteries, and
distributed the monks into other convents. The execution of this project
became the less difficult for him, because the Romish church began
to perceive, that she overabounded in monks, and that she wanted some
supply of learning, in order to oppose the inquisitive, or rather
disputative humor of the reformers.
The confederacy against France seemed more formidable than ever, on
the opening of the campaign.[*] Adrian before his death had renewed the
league with Charles and Henry. The Venetians had been induced to desert
the French alliance, and to form engagements for securing Francis
Sforza, brother to Maximilian, in possession of the Milanese. The
Florentines, the dukes of Ferrara and Mantua, and all the powers of
Italy, combined in the same measure. The emperor in person menaced
France with a powerful invasion on the side of Guienne: the forces of
England and the Netherlands hovered over Picardy: a numerous body of
Germans were preparing to ravage Burgundy: but all these perils from
foreign enemies were less threatening than a domestic conspiracy, which
had been formed, and which was now come to full maturity, against the
French monarch.
* Guicciard. lib. xiv.
Charles, duke of Bourbon, constable of France, was a prince of the most
shining merit; and, besides distinguishing himself in many military
enterprises, he was adorned with every accomplishment which became a
person of his high station. His virtues, embellished with the graces of
youth, had made such impression on Louise of Savoy, Francis’s mother,
that, without regard to the inequality of their years, she made him
proposals of marriage; and meeting with a repulse, she formed schemes
of unrelenting vengeance against him. She was a woman false, deceitful,
vindictive, malicious; but, unhappily for France, had, by her capacity,
which was considerable, acquired an absolute ascendant over her son. By
her instigation, Francis put many affronts on the constable, which it
was difficult for a gallant spirit to endure; and at last he permitted
Louise to prosecute a lawsuit against him, by which, on the most
frivolous pretences, he was deprived of his ample possessions; and
inevitable ruin was brought upon him.
Bourbon, provoked at all these indignities, and thinking that, if
any injuries could justify a man in rebelling against his prince
and country, he must stand acquitted, had entered into a secret
correspondence with the emperor and the king of England.[*] Francis,
pertinacious in his purpose of recovering the Milanese, had intended to
lead his army in person into Italy; and Bourbon, who feigned sickness
in order to have a pretence for staying behind, purposed, as soon as
the king should have passed the Alps, to raise an insurrection among
his numerous vassals, by whom he was extremely beloved, and to introduce
foreign enemies into the heart of the kingdom. Francis got intimation
of his design; but as he was not expeditious enough in securing so
dangerous a foe, the constable made his escape;[**] and entering into
the emperor’s service, employed all the force of his enterprising
spirit, and his great talents for war, to the prejudice of his native
country.
The king of England, desirous that Francis should undertake his Italian
expedition, did not openly threaten Picardy this year with an invasion;
and it was late before the duke of Suffolk, who commanded the English
forces, passed over to Calais. He was attended by the lords Montacute,
Herbert, Ferrars, Morney, Sandys, Berkeley, Powis, and many other
noblemen and gentlemen.[***]
* Mémoires du Bellai, liv. ii.
** Belcarius, lib. xvii.
*** Herbert.
The English army, reënforced by some troops drawn from the garrison
of Calais, amounted to about twelve thousand men; and having joined an
equal number of Flemings under the count de Buren, they prepared for an
invasion of France. The siege of Boulogne was first proposed; but that
enterprise appearing difficult, it was thought more advisable to leave
this town behind them. The frontier of Picardy was very ill provided
with troops; and the only defence of that province was the activity of
the French officers, who infested the allied army in their march,
and threw garrisons, with great expedition, into every town which
was threatened by them. After coasting the Somme, and passing Hedin,
Montreuil, Dourlens, the English and Flemings presented themselves
before Bray, a place of small force, which commanded a bridge over that
river. Here they were resolved to pass, and, if possible, to take up
winter quarters in France; but Crequi threw himself into the town and
seemed resolute to defend it. The allies attacked him with vigor and
success; and when he retreated over the bridge, they pursued him so
hotly, that they allowed him not time to break it down, but passed
it along with him, and totally routed his army. They next advanced to
Montdidier, which they besieged, and took by capitulation. Meeting with
no opposition, they proceeded to the River Oise, within eleven leagues
of Paris, and threw that city into great consternation; till the duke
of Vendôme hastened with some forces to its relief. The confederates,
afraid of being surrounded, and of being reduced to extremities
during so advanced a season, thought proper to retreat. Montdidier was
abandoned; and the English and Flemings, without effecting any thing,
retired into their respective countries.
France defended herself from the other invasions with equal facility
and equal good fortune. Twelve thousand Lansquenets broke into Burgundy
under the command of the count of Furstenberg. The count of Guise, who
defended that frontier, had nothing to oppose to them but some militia,
and about nine hundred heavy-armed cavalry. He threw the militia into
the garrison towns; and with his cavalry he kept the field, and so
harassed the Germans, that they were glad to make their retreat into
Lorraine. Guise attacked them as they passed the Meuse, put them into
disorder, and cut off the greater part of their rear.
The emperor made great preparations on the side of Navarre; and though
that frontier was well guarded by nature, it seemed now exposed to
danger from the powerful invasion which threatened it. Charles besieged
Fontarabia, which a few years before had fallen into Francis’s hands;
and when he had drawn thither Lautrec, the French general, he of a
sudden raised the siege, and sat down before Bayonne. Lautrec, aware
of that stratagem, made a sudden march, and threw himself into Bayonne,
which he defended with such vigor and courage, that the Spaniards were
constrained to raise the siege. The emperor would have been totally
unfortunate on this side, had he not turned back upon Fontarabia, and,
contrary to the advice of all his generals, sitten down in the winter
season before that city, well fortified and strongly garrisoned. The
cowardice or misconduct of the governor saved him from the shame of a
new disappointment. The place was surrendered in a few days; and the
emperor, having finished this enterprise, put his troops into winter
quarters.
So obstinate was Francis in prosecuting his Italian expedition, that,
notwithstanding these numerous invasions with which his kingdom was
menaced on every side, he had determined to lead in person a powerful
army to the conquest of Milan. The intelligence of Bourbon’s conspiracy
and escape stopped him at Lyons; and fearing some insurrection in the
kingdom from the intrigues of a man so powerful and so much beloved,
he thought it prudent to remain in France and to send forward his army
under the command of Admiral Bonnivet. The duchy of Milan had been
purposely left in a condition somewhat defenceless, with a view of
alluring Francis to attack it, and thereby facilitating the enterprises
of Bourbon; and no sooner had Bonnivet passed the Tesin, than the army
of the league, and even Prosper Colonna, who commanded it, a prudent
general, were in the utmost confusion. It is agreed, that if Bonnivet
had immediately advanced to Milan, that great city, on which the whole
duchy depends, would have opened its gates without resistance: but as
he wasted his time in frivolous enterprises, Colonna had opportunity to
reënforce the garrison, and to put the place in a posture of defence.
Bonnivet was now obliged to attempt reducing the city by blockade and
famine; and he took possession of all the posts which commanded the
passages to it. But the army of the league, meanwhile, was not inactive;
and they so straitened and harassed the quarters of the French, that it
seemed more likely the latter should themselves perish by famine, than
reduce the city to that extremity.
{1524.} Sickness, and fatigue, and want had wasted them to such a
degree, that they were ready to raise the blockade; and their only hopes
consisted in a great body of Swiss, which was levied for the service
of the French king, and whose arrival was every day expected. But these
mountaineers no sooner came within sight of the French camp, than they
stopped, from a sudden caprice and resentment; and instead of joining
Bonnivet, they sent orders to a great body of their countrymen, who then
served under him, immediately to begin their march, and to return home
in their company.[*] After this desertion of the Swiss, Bonnivet had
no other choice but that of making his retreat as fast as possible into
France.
* Guicciard. lib. xv. Mémoires de Bellai, liv. ii.
The French being thus expelled Italy, the pope, the Venetians, the
Florentines, were satisfied with the advantage obtained over them, and
were resolved to prosecute their victory no further. All these powers,
especially Clement, had entertained a violent jealousy of the emperor’s
ambition; and their suspicions were extremely augmented when they saw
him refuse the investiture of Milan, a fief of the empire, to Francis
Sforza, whose title he had acknowledged, and whose defence he had
embraced.[*] They all concluded, that he intended to put himself in
possession of that important duchy, and reduce Italy to subjection:
Clement in particular, actuated by this jealousy, proceeded so far in
opposition to the emperor, that he sent orders to his nuncio at London
to mediate a reconciliation between France and England. But affairs were
not yet fully ripe for this change. Wolsey, disgusted with the emperor,
but still more actuated by vain-glory, was determined that he himself
should have the renown of bringing about that great alteration; and he
engaged the king to reject the pope’s mediation.
* Guicciard. lib. xv.
A new treaty was even concluded between Henry and Charles for the
invasion of France. Charles stipulated to supply the Duke of Bourbon
with a powerful army, in order to conquer Provence and Dauphiny: Henry
agreed to pay him a hundred thousand crowns for the first month; after
which he might either choose to continue the same monthly payments,
or invade Picardy with a powerful army. Bourbon was to possess these
provinces with the title of king; but to hold them in fee of Henry as
king of France. The duchy of Burgundy was to be given to Charles; the
rest of the kingdom to Henry. This chimerical partition immediately
failed of execution in the article which was most easily performed:
Bourbon refused to acknowledge Henry as king of France. His enterprise,
however, against Provence still took place. A numerous army of
imperialists invaded that country, under his command and that of the
marquis of Pescara. They laid siege to Marseilles, which, being weakly
garrisoned, they expected to reduce in a little time; but the citizens
defended themselves with such valor and obstinacy, that Bourbon and
Pescara, who heard of the French king’s approach with a numerous army,
found themselves under the necessity of raising the siege; and they led
their forces, weakened, baffled, and disheartened, into Italy.
Francis might now have enjoyed in safety the glory of repulsing all his
enemies, in every attempt which they had hitherto made for invading
his kingdom; but as he received intelligence that the king of England,
discouraged by his former fruitless enterprises, and disgusted with
the emperor, was making no preparations for any attempt on Picardy, his
ancient ardor seized him for the conquest of Milan; and notwithstanding
the advanced season, he was immediately determined, contrary to the
advice of his wisest counsellors, to lead his army into Italy.
He passed the Alps at Mount Cenis, and no sooner appeared in Piedmont
than he threw the whole Milanese into consternation. The forces of the
emperor and Sforza retired to Lodi; and had Francis been so fortunate
as to pursue them, they had abandoned that place, and had been totally
dispersed;[*] but his ill fate led him to besiege Pavia, a town of
considerable strength, well garrisoned, and defended by Leyva, one of
the bravest officers in the Spanish service. Every attempt which the
French king made to gain this important place proved fruitless. He
battered the walls and made breaches; but, by the vigilance of Leyva,
new retrenchments were instantly thrown up behind the breaches: he
attempted to divert the course of the Tesin, which ran by one side of
the city and defended it; but an inundation of the river destroyed in
one night all the mounds which the soldiers during a long time, and with
infinite labor, had been erecting.
* Guicciard. lib. xv. Du Bellai, lib. ii.
{1525.} Fatigue and the bad season (for it was the depth of winter)
had wasted the French army. The imperial generals meanwhile were not
inactive. Pescara, and Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, assembled forces from
all quarters. Bourbon, having pawned his jewels, went into Germany, and
with the money, aided by his personal interest, levied a body of twelve
thousand Lansquenets, with which he joined the imperialists. This whole
army advanced to raise the siege of Pavia; and the danger to the French
became every day more imminent.
The state of Europe was such during that age, that, partly from the
want of commerce and industry every where, except in Italy and the Low
Countries, partly from the extensive privileges still possessed by the
people in all the great monarchies and their frugal maxims in granting
money, the revenues of the princes were extremely narrow, and even the
small armies which they kept on foot could not be regularly paid by
them*[**missing period] The imperial forces, commanded by Bourbon,
Pescara, and Lannoy, exceeded not twenty thousand men; they were the
only body of troops maintained by the emperor, (for he had not been able
to levy any army for the invasion of France, either on the side of
Spain or Flanders.) Yet so poor was that mighty monarch, that he could
transmit no money for the payment of this army; and it was chiefly the
hopes of sharing the plunder of the French camp which had made them
advance and kept them to their standards. Had Francis raised the siege
before their approach, and retired to Milan, they must immediately have
disbanded; and he had obtained a complete victory without danger or
bloodshed. But it was the character of this monarch to become obstinate
in proportion to the difficulties which he encountered; and having once
said, that he would take Pavia or perish before it, he was resolved
rather to endure the utmost extremities than depart from this
resolution.
The imperial generals, after cannonading the French camp for several
days, at last made a general assault, and broke into the intrenchments.
Leyva sallied from the town, and increased the confusion among the
besiegers. The Swiss infantry, contrary to their usual practice, behaved
in a dastardly manner, and deserted their post. Francis’s forces were
put to rout; and he himself, surrounded by his enemies, after fighting
with heroic valor, and killing seven men with his own hand, was at last
obliged to surrender himself prisoner. All most the whole army, full
of nobility and brave officers, either perished by the sword or were
drowned in the river. The few who escaped with their lives fell into the
hands of the enemy.
The emperor received this news by Pennalosa, who passed through
France by means of a safe-conduct granted him by the captive king. The
moderation which he displayed on this occasion, had it been sincere,
would have done him honor. Instead of rejoicing, he expressed sympathy
with Francis’s ill fortune, and discovered his sense of those calamities
to which the greatest monarchs are exposed.[*] He refused the city of
Madrid permission to make any public expressions of triumph; and said
that he reserved all his exultation till he should he able to obtain
some victory over the infidels. He sent orders to his frontier garrisons
to commit no hostilities upon France.
* Vera. Hist. de Carl. V.
He spoke of concluding immediately a peace on reasonable terms. But all
this seeming moderation was only hypocrisy, so much the more dangerous
as it was profound. And he was wholly occupied in forming schemes
how, from this great incident, he might draw the utmost advantage, and
gratify that exorbitant ambition by which, in all his actions, he was
ever governed.
The same Pennalosa, in passing through France, carried also a letter
from Francis to his mother, whom he had left regent, and who then
resided at Lyons. It contained only these few words: “Madam, all is
lost, except our honor.” The princess was struck with the greatness of
the calamity. She saw the kingdom without a sovereign, without an army,
without generals, without money; surrounded on every side by implacable
and victorious enemies; and her chief resource, in her present
distresses, were the hopes which she entertained of peace and even of
assistance from the king of England.
Had the king entered into the war against France from any concerted
political views, it is evident that the victory of Pavia and the
captivity of Francis were the most fortunate incidents that could have
befallen him, and the only ones that could render his schemes effectual.
While the war was carried on in the former feeble manner, without any
decisive advantage, he might have been able to possess himself of some
frontier town, or perhaps of a small territory, of which he could not.
have kept possession without expending much more than its value. By some
signal calamity alone, which annihilated the power of France, could he
hope to acquire the dominion of considerable provinces, or dismember
that great monarchy, so affectionate to its own government and its own
sovereigns. But as it is probable that Henry had never before carried
his reflections so far, he was startled at this important event, and
became sensible of his own danger, as well as that of all Europe, from
the loss of a proper counterpoise to the power of Charles. Instead of
taking advantage, therefore, of the distressed condition of Francis, he
was determined to lend him assistance in his present calamities; and
as the glory of generosity in raising a fallen enemy concurred with
his political interests, he hesitated the less in embracing these new
measures.
Some disgusts also had previously taken place between Charles and Henry,
and still more between Charles and Wolsey; and that powerful minister
waited only for a favorable opportunity of revenging the disappointments
which he had met with. The behavior of Charles, immediately after the
victory of Pavia, gave him occasion to revive the king’s jealousy and
suspicions. The emperor so ill supported the appearance of moderation
which he at first assumed, that he had already changed his usual
style to Henry; and instead of writing to him with his own hand, and
subscribing himself “Your affectionate son and cousin,” he dictated
his letters to a secretary, and simply subscribed himself “Charles.”[*]
Wolsey also perceived a diminution in the caresses and professions with
which the emperor’s letters to him were formerly loaded; and this last
imprudence, proceeding from the intoxication of success, was probably
more dangerous to Charles’s interests than the other.
Henry, though immediately determined to embrace new measures, was
careful to save appearances in the change; and he caused rejoicings to
be every where made on account of the victory of Pavia and the captivity
of Francis. He publicly dismissed a French envoy, whom he had formerly
allowed, notwithstanding the war, to reside at London;[**] but upon the
regent of France’s submissive applications to him, he again opened a
correspondence with her; and besides assuring her of his friendship and
protection, he exacted a promise that she never would consent to the
dismembering of any province from the monarchy for her son’s ransom.
With the emperor, however, he put on the appearance of vigor and
enterprise; and in order to have a pretence for breaking with him, he
despatched Tonstal, bishop of London, to Madrid with proposals for a
powerful invasion of France. He required that Charles should immediately
enter Guienne at the head of a great army, in order to put him in
possession of that province; and he demanded the payments of large sums
of money which that prince had borrowed from him in his last visit
at London. He knew that the emperor was in no condition of fulfilling
either of these demands; and that he had as little inclination to make
him master of such considerable territories upon the frontiers of Spain.
* Guicciard. lib. xvi.
** Du Bellai, liv. iii Stowe, p. 221. Baker, p. 273.
Tonstal, likewise, after his arrival at Madrid, informed his master that
Charles, on his part, urged several complaints against England; and in
particular was displeased with Henry, because last year he had neither
continued his monthly payments to Bourbon nor invaded Picardy, according
to his stipulations. Tonstal added, that instead of expressing an
intention to espouse Mary when she should be of age, the emperor had
hearkened to proposals for marrying his niece Isabella, princess of
Portugal; and that he had entered into a separate treaty with Francis,
and seemed determined to reap alone all the advantages of the success
with which fortune had crowned his arms.
The king, influenced by all these motives, concluded at Moore his
alliance with the regent of France, and engaged to procure her son his
liberty on reasonable conditions:[*] the regent also, in another treaty,
acknowledged the kingdom Henry’s debtor for one million eight hundred
thousand crowns to be discharged in half-yearly payments of fifty
thousand crowns; after which Henry was to receive, during life, a yearly
pension of a hundred thousand. A large present of a hundred thousand
crowns was also made to Wolsey for his good offices, but covered under
the pretence of arrears due on the pension granted him for relinquishing
the administration of Tournay.
* Du Tillet, Recueil des Traités de Leonard, tom. ii.
Herbert.
Meanwhile Henry, foreseeing that this treaty with France might involve
him in a war with the emperor, was also determined to fill his treasury
by impositions upon his own subjects; and as the parliament had
discovered some reluctance in complying with his demands, he followed,
as is believed, the counsel of Wolsey, and resolved to make use of his
prerogative alone for that purpose. He issued commissions to all the
counties of England, for levying four shillings in the pound upon
the clergy, three shillings and fourpence upon the laity; and so
uncontrollable did he deem his authority, that he took no care to cover,
as formerly, this arbitrary exaction, even under the slender pretence
of a loan. But he soon found that he had presumed too far on the passive
submission of his subjects. The people, displeased with an exaction
beyond what was usually levied in those days, and further disgusted with
the illegal method of imposing it, broke out in murmurs, complaints,
opposition to the commissioners; and their refractory disposition
threatened a general insurrection. Henry had the prudence to stop short
in that dangerous path into which he had entered. He sent letters to all
the counties, declaring that he meant no force by this last imposition,
and that he would take nothing from his subjects but by way of
“benevolence.” He flattered himself, that his condescension in employing
that disguise would satisfy the people, and that no one would dare to
render himself obnoxious to royal authority, by refusing any payment
required of him in this manner. But the spirit of opposition, once
roused, could not so easily be quieted at pleasure. A lawyer in the
city objecting the statute of Richard III., by which benevolences were
forever abolished, it was replied by the court, that Richard being a
usurper, and his parliament a factious assembly, his statutes could not
bind a lawful and absolute monarch, who held his crown by hereditary
right, and needed not to court the favor of a licentious populace.[*]
* Herbert Hall.
The judges even went so far as to affirm positively, that the king might
exact by commission any sum he pleased; and the privy council gave
a ready assent to this decree, which annihilated the most valuable
privilege of the people, and rendered all their other privileges
precarious. Armed with such formidable authority of royal prerogative
and a pretence of law, Wolsey sent for the mayor of London, and desired
to know what he was willing to give for the supply of his majesty’s
necessities. The mayor seemed desirous, before he should declare
himself, to consult the common council; but the cardinal required that
he and all the aldermen should separately confer with himself about
the benevolence; and he eluded by that means the danger of a formed
opposition. Matters, however, went not so smoothly in the country. An
insurrection was begun in some places; but as the people were not headed
by any considerable person, it was easy for the duke of Suffolk, and
the earl of Surrey, now duke of Norfolk, by employing persuasion
and authority, to induce the ringleaders to lay down their arms and
surrender themselves prisoners. The king, finding it dangerous to punish
criminals engaged in so popular a cause, was determined, notwithstanding
his violent, imperious temper, to grant them a general pardon; and
he prudently imputed their guilt, not to their want of loyalty or
affection, but to their poverty. The offenders were carried before the
star chamber; where, after a severe charge brought against them by the
king’s council, the cardinal said, “that notwithstanding their grievous,
offence, the king, in, consideration of their necessities, had granted
them his gracious pardon, upon condition that they would find sureties
for their future good behavior.” But they, replying that they had no
sureties, the cardinal first, and after him the duke of Norfolk, said
that they would be bound for them. Upon which they were dismissed.[*]
* Herbert. Hall. Stowe, p. 525. Holingshed, p. 891.
These arbitrary impositions being imputed, though on what grounds is
unknown, to the counsels of the cardinal, increased the general odium
under which he labored: and the clemency of the pardon, being ascribed
to the king, was considered as an atonement on his part for the
illegality of the measure. But Wolsey, supported both by royal and
papal authority, proceeded without scruple to violate all ecclesiastical
privileges, which, during that age, were much more sacred than civil;
and having once prevailed in that unusual attempt of suppressing some
monasteries, he kept all the rest in awe, and exercised over them an
arbitrary jurisdiction. By his commission as legate he was empowered to
visit them, and reform them, and chastise their irregularities; and he
employed his usual agent, Allen, in the exercise of this authority.
The religious houses were obliged to compound for their guilt, real or
pretended, by paying large sums to the cardinal or his deputy; and this
oppression was carried so far, that it reached at last the king’s ears,
which were not commonly open to complaints against his favorite.
Wolsey had built a splendid palace at Hampton Court, which he probably
intended, as well as that of York Place, in Westminster, for his
own residence; but fearing the increase of envy on account of this
magnificence, and desirous to appease the king, he made him a present of
the building, and told him that, from the first, he had erected it for
his use.
The absolute authority possessed by the king rendered his domestic
government, both over his people and his ministers, easy and
expeditious: the conduct of foreign affairs alone required effort and
application; and they were now brought to such a situation, that it
was no longer safe for England to remain entirely neutral. The feigned
moderation of the emperor was of short duration; and it was soon obvious
to all the world, that his great dominions, far from gratifying
his ambition, were only regarded as the means of acquiring an more
extensive. The terms which he demanded of his prisoner were such as must
forever have annihilated the power of France, and destroyed the balance
of Europe. These terms were proposed to Francis soon after the battle
of Pavia, while he was detained in Pizzichitone; and as he had hitherto
trusted somewhat to the emperor’s generosity, the disappointment excited
in his breast the most lively indignation. He said, that he would rather
live and die a prisoner than agree to dismember his kingdom; and that
even were he so base as to submit to such conditions, his subjects would
never permit him to carry them into execution.
Francis was encouraged to persist in demanding more moderate terms by
the favorable accounts which he heard of Henry’s disposition towards
him, and of the alarm which had seized all the chief powers in Italy
upon his defeat and captivity. He was uneasy, however, to be so far
distant from the emperor, with whom he must treat; and he expressed his
desire (which was complied with) to be removed to Madrid, in hopes that
a personal interview would operate in his favor, and that Charles, if
not influenced by his ministers, might be found possessed of the same
frankness of disposition by which he himself was distinguished. He was
soon convinced of his mistake. Partly from want of exercise, partly
from reflections on his present melancholy situation, he fell into a
languishing illness; which begat apprehensions in Charles, lest the
death of his captive should bereave him of all those advantages which he
purposed to extort from him. He then paid him a visit in the castle
of Madrid; and as he approached the bed in which Francis lay, the sick
monarch called to him, “You come, sir, to visit your prisoner.” “No,”
replied the emperor, “I come to visit my brother and my friend, who
shall soon obtain his liberty.” He soothed his afflictions with many
speeches of a like nature, which had so good an effect that the king
daily recovered;[*] and thenceforth employed himself in concerting with
the ministers of the emperor the terms of his treaty.
* Herbert. Le Vera. Sandoval.
{1526.} At last, the emperor, dreading a general combination against
him, was willing to abate somewhat of his rigor: and the treaty of
Madrid was signed, by which, it was hoped an end would be finally put
to the differences between these great monarchs. The principal condition
was the restoring of Francis’s liberty, and the delivery of his two
eldest sons as hostages to the emperor for the cession of Burgundy. If
any difficulty should afterwards occur in the execution of this last
article, from the opposition of the states either of France or of that
province, Francis stipulated, that in six weeks’ time, he should return
to his prison, and remain there till the full performance of the treaty.
There were many other articles in this famous convention, all of them
extremely severe upon the captive monarch; and Charles discovered
evidently his intention of reducing Italy, as well as France, to
subjection and dependence.
Many of Charles’s ministers foresaw that Francis, how solemn soever the
oaths, promises, and protestations exacted of him, never would execute
a treaty so disadvantageous, or rather ruinous and destructive, to
himself, his posterity, and his country. By putting Burgundy, they
thought, into the emperor’s hands, he gave his powerful enemy an
entrance into the heart of the kingdom: by sacrificing his allies
in Italy, he deprived himself of foreign assistance; and, arming his
oppressor with the whole force and wealth of that opulent country,
rendered him absolutely irresistible. To these great views of interest
were added the motives, no less cogent, of passion and resentment; while
Francis, a prince who piqued himself on generosity, reflected on the
rigor with which he had been treated during his captivity, and the
severe terms which had been exacted of him for the recovery of his
liberty. It was also foreseen, that the emulation and rivalship, which
had so long subsisted between these two monarchs, would make him feel
the strongest reluctance on yielding the superiority to an antagonist
who, by the whole tenor of his conduct, he would be apt to think, had
shown himself so little worthy of that advantage which fortune, and
fortune alone, had put into his hands. His ministers, his friends, his
subjects, his allies, would be sure with one voice to inculcate on him,
that the first object of a prince was the preservation of his people;
and that the laws of honor, which, with a private man, ought to
be absolutely supreme, and superior to all interests, were, with a
sovereign, subordinate to the great duty of insuring the safety of his
country. Nor could it be imagined that Francis would be so romantic in
his principles, as not to hearken to a casuistry which was so plausible
in itself, and which so much flattered all the passions by which, either
as a prince or a man, he was strongly actuated.
Francis, on entering his own dominions, delivered his two eldest sons
as hostages into the hands of the Spaniards. He mounted a Turkish horse,
and immediately putting him to the gallop, he waved his hand, and cried
aloud several times, “I am yet a king.” He soon reached Bayonne,
where he was joyfully received by the regent and his whole court. He
immediately wrote to Henry; acknowledging that to his good offices alone
he owed his liberty, and protesting that he should be entirely governed
by his counsels in all transactions with the emperor. When the Spanish
envoy demanded his ratification of the treaty of Madrid, now that he had
fully recovered his liberty, he declined the proposal; under color that
it was previously necessary to assemble the states both of France and of
Burgundy, and to obtain their consent. The states of Burgundy soon
met; and declaring against the clause which contained an engagement for
alienating their province, they expressed their resolution of opposing,
even by force of arms, the execution of so ruinous and unjust an
article. The imperial minister then required that Francis, in conformity
to the treaty of Madrid, should now return to his prison; but the French
monarch, instead of complying, made public the treaty which a little
before he had secretly concluded at Cognac, against the ambitious
schemes and usurpations of the emperor.[*]
* Guicciard. lib. xvii.
The pope, the Venetians, and other Italian states, who were deeply
interested in these events, had been held in the most anxious suspense
with regard to the resolutions which Francis should take after the
recovery of his liberty; and Clement, in particular, who suspected that
this prince would never execute a treaty so hurtful to his interests,
and even destructive of his independency, had very frankly offered him a
dispensation from all his oaths and engagements. Francis remained not in
suspense; but entered immediately into the confederacy proposed to him.
It was stipulated by that king, the pope, the Venetians, the Swiss,
the Florentines, and the duke of Milan, among other articles, that they
would oblige the emperor to deliver up the two young princes of France
on receiving a reasonable sum of money; and to restore Milan to Sforza,
without further condition or encumbrance.
The king of England was invited to accede, not only as a contracting
party, but as protector of the “holy league,”--so it was called; and
if Naples should be conquered from the emperor, in prosecution of this
confederacy, it was agreed that Henry should enjoy a principality in
that kingdom of the yearly revenue of thirty thousand ducats; and that
cardinal Wolsey, in consideration of the services which he had rendered
to Christendom, should also, in such an event, be put in possession of a
revenue of ten thousand ducats.
Francis was desirous that the appearance of this great confederacy
should engage the emperor to relax somewhat in the extreme rigor of the
treaty of Madrid; and while he entertained these hopes, he was the
more remiss in his warlike preparations; nor did he send in due time
reënforcements to his allies in Italy.
{1527.} The duke of Bourbon had got possession of the whole Milanese,
of which the emperor intended to grant him the investiture; and having
levied a considerable army in Germany, he became formidable to all the
Italian potentates; and not the less so because Charles, destitute, as
usual, of money, had not been able to remit any pay to the forces. The
general was extremely beloved by his troops; and in order to prevent
those mutinies which were ready to break out every moment, and which
their affection alone for him had hitherto restrained, he led them to
Rome, and promised to enrich them by the plunder of that opulent city.
He was himself killed, as he was planting a scaling ladder against the
walls; but his soldiers, rather enraged than discouraged by his death,
mounted to the assault with the utmost valor, and entering the city
sword in hand, exercised all those brutalities which may be expected
from ferocity excited by resistance, and from insolence which takes
place when that resistance is no more. This renowned city, exposed by
her renown alone to so many calamities, never endured, in any age, even
from the barbarians by whom she was often subdued, such indignities as
she was now compelled to suffer. The unrestrained massacre and pillage,
which continued for several days, were the least ills to which the
unhappy Romans were exposed.[*] Whatever was respectable in modesty or
sacred in religion, seemed but the more to provoke the insults of the
soldiery. Virgins suffered violation in the arms of their parents, and
upon those very altars to which they had fled for protection.
* Guicciard. lib. xviii. Bellai. Stowe, p. 527.
Aged prelates, after enduring every indignity, and even every torture,
were thrown into dungeons, and menaced with the most cruel death, in
order to make them reveal their secret treasures, or purchase liberty by
exorbitant ransoms. Clement himself, who had trusted for protection to
the sacredness of his character, and neglected to make his escape in
time, was taken captive; and found that his dignity, which procured him
no regard from the Spanish soldiers, did but draw on him the insolent
mockery of the German, who, being generally attached to the Lutheran
principles, were pleased to gratify their animosity by the abasement of
the sovereign pontiff.
When intelligence of this great event was conveyed to the emperor,
that young prince, habituated to hypocrisy, expressed the most profound
sorrow for the success of his arms: he put himself and all his court in
mourning: he stopped the rejoicings for the birth of his son Philip: and
knowing that every artifice, however gross, is able, when seconded by
authority, to impose upon the people, he ordered prayers during several
months to be put up in the churches for the pope’s liberty; which all
men knew a letter under his hand could in a moment have procured.
The concern expressed by Henry and Francis for the calamity of their
ally was more sincere. These two monarchs, a few days before the sack
of Rome, had concluded a treaty[*] at Westminster, in which, besides
renewing former alliances, they agreed to send ambassadors to Charles,
requiring him to accept of two millions of crowns as the ransom of the
French princes, and to repay the money borrowed from Henry; and in
case of refusal, the ambassadors, attended by heralds, were ordered to
denounce war against him.
* 30th April.
This war it was agreed to prosecute in the Low Countries, with an army
of thirty thousand infantry and fifteen hundred men at arms, two thirds
to be supplied by Francis, the rest by Henry. And in order to strengthen
the alliance between the princes, it was stipulated, that either
Francis, or his son, the duke of Orleans, as should afterwards be agreed
on, should espouse the princess Mary, Henry’s daughter. No sooner did
the monarchs receive intelligence of Bourbon’s enterprise than they
changed, by a new treaty, the scene of the projected war from the
Netherlands to Italy; and hearing of the pope’s captivity, they were
further stimulated to undertake the war with vigor for restoring him to
liberty. Wolsey himself crossed the sea, in order to have an interview
with Francis and to concert measures for that purpose; and he
displayed all that grandeur and magnificence with which he was so
much intoxicated. He was attended by a train of a thousand horse. The
cardinal of Lorraine, and the chancellor Alençon, met him at Boulogne;
Francis himself, besides granting to that haughty prelate the power of
giving, in every place where he came, liberty to all prisoners, made a
journey as far as Amiens to meet him, and even advanced some miles from
the town, the more to honor his reception. It was here stipulated, that
the duke of Orleans should espouse the princess Mary; and as the emperor
seemed to be taking some steps towards assembling a general council, the
two monarchs agreed not to acknowledge it, but, during the interval
of the pope’s captivity, to govern the churches in their respective
dominions by their own authority. Wolsey made some attempts to get his
legatine power extended over France, and even over Germany; but finding
his efforts fruitless, he was obliged, though with great reluctance, to
desist from these ambitious enterprises.[*]
* Burnet, book iii. coll. 12, 13.
The more to cement the union between these princes, a new treaty was
some time after concluded at London; in which Henry agreed finally
to renounce all claims to the crown of France; claims which might now
indeed be deemed chimerical, but which often served as a pretence for
exciting the unwary English to wage war upon the French nation. As a
return for this concession, Francis bound himself and his successors to
pay forever fifty thousand crowns a year to Henry and his successors;
and that greater solemnity might be given to this treaty, it was agreed
that the parliaments and great nobility of both kingdoms should give
their assent to it. The mareschal Montmorency, accompanied by many
persons of distinction, and attended by a pompous equipage, was sent
over to ratify the treaty; and was received at London with all the
parade which suited the solemnity of the occasion. The terror of the
emperor’s greatness had extinguished the ancient animosity between the
nations; and Spain, during more than a century, became, though a more
distant power, the chief object of jealousy to the English.
This cordial union between France and England, though it added influence
to the joint embassy which they sent to the emperor, was not able to
bend that monarch to submit entirely to the conditions insisted on by
the allies. He departed, indeed, from his demand of Burgundy as the
ransom of the French princes; but he required, previously to their
liberty, that Francis should evacuate Genoa, and all the fortresses held
by him in Italy; and he declared his intention of bringing Sforza to a
trial, and confiscating the duchy of Milan, on account of his pretended
treason. The English and French heralds, therefore, according to
agreement, declared war against him, and set him at defiance. Charles
answered the English herald with moderation; but to the French he
reproached his master with breach of faith, reminded him of the private
conversation which had passed between them at Madrid before their
separation, and offered to prove by single combat that he had acted
dishonorably. Francis retaliated this challenge, by giving Charles the
lie; and, after demanding security of the field, he offered to maintain
his cause by single combat. Many messages passed to and fro between
them; but though both princes were undoubtedly brave, the intended duel
never took place. The French and Spaniards, during that age, zealously
disputed which of the monarchs incurred the blame of this failure; but
all men of moderation every where lamented the power of fortune, that
the prince the more candid, generous, and sincere, should, by unhappy
incidents, have been reduced to so cruel a situation, that nothing but
his violation of treaty could preserve his people, and that he must ever
after, without being able to make a proper reply, bear to be reproached
with breach of promise, by a rival inferior to him both in honor and
virtue.
But though this famous challenge between Charles and Francis had no
immediate consequence with regard to these monarchs themselves, it
produced a considerable alteration on the manners of the age. The
practice of challenges and duels, which had been part of the ancient
barbarous jurisprudence, which was still preserved on very solemn
occasions, and which was sometimes countenanced by the civil magistrate,
began thenceforth to prevail in the most trivial incidents; and men, on
any affront or injury, thought themselves entitled, or even required
in honor, to take revenge on their enemies, by openly vindicating their
right in single combat. These absurd, though generous maxims, shed much
of thee best blood in Christendom, during more than two centuries; and
notwithstanding the severity of law and authority of reason, such is
the prevailing force of custom, they are far from being as yet entirely
exploded.
CHAPTER XXX.
HENRY VIII
{1527.} Notwithstanding the submissive deference paid to papal
authority before the reformation, the marriage of Henry with Catharine
of Arragon, his brother’s widow, had not passed without much scruple and
difficulty. The prejudices of the people were in general bent against a
conjugal union between such near relations; and the late king, though he
had betrothed his son when that prince was but twelve years of age, gave
evident proofs of his intention to take afterwards a proper opportunity
of annulling the contract.[*] He ordered the young prince, as soon as
he came of age, to enter a protestation against the marriage;[**] and on
his death-bed he charged him, as his last injunction, not to finish an
alliance so unusual, and exposed to such insuperable objections. After
the king’s accession, some members of the privy council, particularly
Warham, the primate, openly declared against the resolution of
completing the marriage; and though Henry’s youth and dissipation kept
him, during some time, from entertaining any scruples with regard to the
measure which he had embraced, there happened incidents sufficient
to rouse his attention, and to inform him of the sentiments generally
entertained on that subject. The states of Castile had opposed the
emperor Charles’s espousals with Mary, Henry’s daughter; and among
other objections, had insisted on the illegitimate birth of the young
princess.[***] And when the negotiations were afterwards opened with
France, and mention was made of betrothing her to Francis or the duke
of Orleans, the bishop of Tarbe, the French ambassador, revived the same
objection.[****] But though these events naturally raised some doubts
in Henry’s mind, there concurred other causes, which tended much to
increase his remorse, and render his conscience more scrupulous.
* Morison’s Apomaxis, p. 13.
** Morison’s Apomaxis, p. 13. Heylin’s Queen Mary, p. 2.
*** Lord Herbert, Fiddes’s Life of Wolsey.
**** Rymer vol. xiv. p. 192, 203. Heylin, p. 3.
The queen was older than the king by no less than six years; and the
decay of her beauty, together with particular infirmities and diseases,
had contributed, notwithstanding her blameless character and deportment,
to render her person unacceptable to him. Though she had born him
several children, they all died in early infancy, except one daughter,
and he was the more struck with this misfortune, because the curse of
being childless is the very threatening contained in the Mosaical law
against those who espouse their brother’s widow. The succession, too, of
the crown was a consideration that occurred to every one, whenever
the lawfulness of Henry’s marriage was called in question; and it was
apprehended, that if doubts of Mary’s legitimacy concurred with the
weakness of her sex, the king of Scots, the next heir, would advance his
pretensions, and might throw the kingdom into confusion. The evils, as
yet recent, of civil wars and convulsions arising from a disputed title,
made great impression on the minds of men, and rendered the people
universally desirous of any event which might obviate so irreparable a
calamity. And the king was thus impelled, both by his private passions
and by motives of public interest, to seek the dissolution of his
inauspicious, and, as it was esteemed, unlawful marriage with Catharine.
Henry afterwards affirmed that his scruples arose entirely from private
reflection; and that on consulting his confessor, the bishop of Lincoln,
he found the prelate possessed with the same doubts and difficulties.
The king himself, being so great a casuist and divine, next proceeded to
examine the question more carefully by his own learning and study;
and having had recourse to Thomas of Aquine, he observed that this
celebrated doctor, whose authority was great in the church, and absolute
with him, had treated of that very case, and had expressly declared
against the lawfulness of such marriages.[*]
* Burnet. Fiddes.
The prohibitions, said Thomas, contained in Leviticus, and among the
rest that of marrying a brother’s widow, are moral, eternal, and founded
on a divine sanction; and though the pope may dispense with the rules
of the church, the laws of God cannot be set aside by any authority
less than that which enacted them. The archbishop of Canterbury was
then applied to; and he was required to consult his brethren: all the
prelates of England, except Fisher, bishop of Rochester unanimously
declared, under their hand and seal, that they deemed the king’s
marriage unlawful.[*] Wolsey also fortified the king’s scruples;[**]
partly with a view of promoting a total breach with the emperor,
Catharine’s nephew; partly desirous of connecting the king more closely
with Francis, by marrying him to the duchess of Alençon, sister to that
monarch; and perhaps, too, somewhat disgusted with the queen herself,
who had reproved him for certain freedoms, unbefitting his character and
station,[***] But Henry was carried forward, though perhaps not at first
excited, by a motive more forcible than even the suggestions of that
powerful favorite.
Anne Boleyn, who lately appeared at court, had been appointed maid of
honor to the queen; and having had frequent opportunities of being
seen by Henry, and of conversing with him, she had acquired an entire
ascendant over his affections. This young lady, whose grandeur and
misfortunes have rendered her so celebrated, was daughter of Sir Thomas
Boleyn, who had been employed by the king in several embassies, and
who was allied to all the principal nobility in the kingdom. His wife,
mother to Anne, was daughter of the duke of Norfolk; his own mother was
daughter of the earl of Ormond; his grandfather, Sir Geoffrey Boleyn,
who had been mayor of London, had espoused one of the daughters and
coheirs of Lord Hastings.[****]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 38. Stowe, p. 548.
** Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 48, 166, 168. Saunders. Heylin, p.
4.
***Burnet, vol. i. p. 38. Strype, vol. i. p. 88.
**** Camden’s Preface to the Life of Elizabeth. Burnet, vol.
i p. 44.
Anne herself, though then in very early youth, had been carried over
to Paris by the king’s sister, when the princess espoused Lewis XII.
of France; and upon the demise of that monarch, and the return of his
dowager into England, this damsel, whose accomplishments even in her
tender years were always much admired, was retained in the service of
Claude, queen of France, spouse to Francis; and after the death of that
princess, she passed into the family of the duchess of Alençon, a woman
of singular merit. The exact time when she returned to England is not
certainly known; but it was after the king had entertained doubts with
regard to the lawfulness of his marriage with Catharine, if the account
is to be credited which he himself afterwards gave of that transaction.
Henry’s scruples had made him break off all conjugal commerce with
the queen; but as he still supported an intercourse of civility and
friendship with her, he had occasion, in the frequent visits which he
paid her, to observe the beauty, the youth, the charms of Anne Boleyn.
Finding the accomplishments of her mind nowise inferior to her exterior
graces, he even entertained the design of raising her to the throne; and
was the more confirmed in this resolution, when he found that her virtue
and modesty prevented all hopes of gratifying his passion in any other
manner. As every motive, therefore, of inclination and policy seemed
thus to concur in making the king desirous of a divorce from Catharine,
and as his prospect of success was inviting, he resolved to make
application to Clement; and he sent Knight, his secretary, to Rome for
that purpose.
That he might not shock the haughty claims of the pontiff, he resolved
not to found the application on any general doubts concerning the papal
power to permit marriage in the nearer degrees of consanguinity; but
only to insist on particular grounds of nullity in the bull which Julius
had granted for the marriage of Henry and Catharine. It was a maxim in
the court of Rome, that if the pope be surprised into any concession, or
grant any indulgence upon false suggestions, the bull may afterwards be
annulled; and this pretence had usually been employed wherever one pope
had recalled any deed executed by any of his predecessors. But Julius’s
bull, when examined, afforded abundant matter of this kind; and any
tribunal favorable to Henry needed not want a specious color for
gratifying him in his applications for a divorce. It was said in the
preamble, that the bull had been granted upon his solicitation; though
it was known that, at that time, he was under twelve years of age; it
was also affirmed, as another motive for the bull, that the marriage was
requisite, in order to preserve peace between the two crowns; though it
is certain that there was not then any ground or appearance of quarrel
between them. These false premises in Julius’s bull seemed to afford
Clement a sufficient reason or pretence for annulling it, and granting
Henry a dispensation for a second marriage.[*]
* Collier, Eccles. Hist. vol. ii p. 25, from the Cott. Lib.
Vitel. p. 9
But though the pretext for this indulgence had been less plausible,
the pope was in such a situation that he had the strongest motives to
embrace every opportunity of gratifying the English monarch. He was then
a prisoner in the hands of the emperor; and had no hopes of recovering
his liberty on any reasonable terms, except by the efforts of the league
which Henry had formed with Francis and the Italian powers, in order to
oppose the ambition of Charles. When the English secretary, therefore,
solicited him in private, he received a very favorable answer: and a
dispensation was forthwith promised to be granted to his master.[*]
Soon after, the march of a French army into Italy, under the command of
Lautrec, obliged the imperialists to restore Clement to his liberty; and
he retired to Orvietto, where the secretary, with Sir Gregory Cassali,
the king’s resident at Rome, renewed their applications to him. They
still found him full of high professions of friendship, gratitude, and
attachment to the king; but not so prompt in granting his request
as they expected. The emperor, who had got intelligence of Henry’s
application to Rome, had exacted a promise from the pope, to take
no steps in the affair before he communicated them to the imperial
ministers; and Clement, embarrassed by this promise, and still more
overawed by the emperor’s forces in Italy, seemed willing to postpone
those concessions desired of him by Henry. Importuned, however, by
the English ministers, he at last put into their hands a commission to
Wolsey, as legate, in conjunction with the archbishop of Canterbury,
or any other English prelate, to examine the validity of the king’s
marriage, and of Julius’s dispensation:[**] he also granted them a
provisional dispensation for the king’s marriage with any other person;
and promised to issue a decretal bull, annulling the marriage with
Catharine. But he represented to them the dangerous consequences which
must ensue to him, if these concessions should come to the emperor’s
knowledge; and he conjured them not to publish those papers, or make
any further use of them, till his affairs were in such a situation as to
secure his liberty and independence. And his secret advice was, whenever
they should find the proper time for opening the scene, that they should
prevent all opposition, by proceeding immediately to a conclusion, by
declaring the marriage with Catharine invalid, and by Henry’s instantly
espousing some other person. Nor would it be so difficult, he said
for himself to confirm these proceedings, after they were passed, as
previously to render them valid by his consent and authority.[***]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 47.
** Rymer, vol. xiv. p. 237.
*** Collier, from Cott. Lib. Vitel. b. 10.
{1528.} When Henry received the commission and dispensation from his
ambassadors, and was informed of the pope’s advice, he laid the
whole before his ministers, and asked their opinion in so delicate a
situation. The English counsellors considered the danger of proceeding
in the manner pointed out to them. Should the pope refuse to ratify a
deed which he might justly call precipitate and irregular, and should
he disavow the advice which he gave in so clandestine a manner, the king
would find his second marriage totally invalidated; the children
which it might bring him declared illegitimate; and his marriage with
Catharine more firmly riveted than ever.[*] And Henry’s apprehensions
of the possibility, or even probability, of such an event, were much
confirmed when he reflected on the character and situation of the
sovereign pontiff.
Clement was a prince of excellent judgment, whenever his timidity, to
which he was extremely subject, allowed him to make full use of
those talents and that penetration with which he was endowed.[**] The
captivity and other misfortunes which he had undergone by entering into
a league against Charles, had so affected his imagination, that he never
afterwards exerted himself with vigor in any public measure; especially
if the interest or inclinations of that potentate stood in opposition to
him. The imperial forces were at that time powerful in Italy, and might
return to the attack of Rome, which was still defenceless, and exposed
to the same calamities with which it had already been overwhelmed. And
besides these dangers, Clement fancied himself exposed to perils which
threatened still more immediately his person and his dignity.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 51.
** Father Paul, lib. i. Guicciard.
Charles, apprised of the timid disposition of the holy father, threw out
perpetual menaces of summoning a general council; which he represented
as necessary to reform the church, and correct those enormous abuses
which the ambition and avarice of the court of Rome had introduced
into every branch of ecclesiastical administration. The power of the
sovereign pontiff himself, he said, required limitation; his conduct
called aloud for amendment; and even his title to the throne which he
filled might justly be called in question. That pope had always passed
for the natural son of Julian of Medicis, who was of the sovereign
family of Florence; and though Leo X., his kinsman, had declared him
legitimate, upon a pretended promise of marriage between his father and
mother, few believed that declaration to be founded on any just reason
or authority.[*] The canon law, indeed, had been entirely silent with
regard to the promotion of bastards to the papal throne; but, what was
still dangerous, the people had entertained a violent prepossession,
that this stain in the birth of any person was incompatible with so holy
an office. And in another point the canon law was express and positive,
that no man guilty of simony could attain that dignity. A severe bull
of Julius II. had added new sanctions to this law, by declaring that
a simoniacal election could not be rendered valid, even by a posterior
consent of the cardinals. But unfortunately Clement had given to
Cardinal Colonna a billet, containing promises of advancing that
cardinal, in case he himself should attain the papal dignity by his
concurrence; and this billet Colonna, who was in entire dependence on
the emperor, threatened every moment to expose to public view.[**]
While Charles terrified the pope with these menaces, he also allured him
by hopes, which were no less prevalent over his affections. At the time
when the emperor’s forces sacked Rome, and reduced Clement to captivity,
the Florentines, passionate for their ancient liberty, had taken
advantage of his distresses, and revolting against the family of
Medicis, had entirely abolished their authority in Florence, and
reëstablished the democracy. The better to protect themselves in their
freedom, they had entered into the alliance with France, England, and
Venice, against the emperor; and Clement found that by this interest,
the hands of his confederates were tied from assisting him in the
restoration of his family; the event which, of all others, he most
passionately desired. The emperor alone, he knew, was able to effect
this purpose; and therefore, whatever professions he made of fidelity
to his allies, he was always, on the least glimpse of hope, ready
to embrace every proposal of a cordial reconciliation with that
monarch.[***]
* Father Paul lib. i.
** Father Paul, lib. i.
*** Father Paul.
These views and interests of the pope were well known in England; and as
the opposition of the emperor to Henry’s divorce was foreseen, both
on account of the honor and interests of Catharine, his aunt, and the
obvious motive of distressing an enemy, it was esteemed dangerous
to take any measure of consequence, in expectation of the subsequent
concurrence of a man of Clement’s character, whose behavior always
contained so much duplicity, and who was at present so little at his own
disposal. The safest measure seemed to consist in previously engaging
him so far, that he could not afterwards recede, and in making use of
his present ambiguity and uncertainty, to extort the most important
concessions from him. For this purpose, Stephen Gardiner, the cardinal’s
secretary, and Edward Fox, the king’s almoner, were despatched to Rome,
and were ordered to solicit a commission from the pope, of such a
nature as would oblige him to confirm the sentence of the commissioners,
whatever it should be, and disable him on any account to recall the
commission, or evoke the cause to Rome.[*]
But the same reasons which made the king so desirous of obtaining this
concession, confirmed the pope in the resolution of refusing it: he
was still determined to keep the door open for an agreement with the
emperor; and he made no scruple of sacrificing all other considerations
to a point, which he deemed the most essential and important to his own
security, and to the greatness of his family. He granted, therefore, a
new commission, in which Cardinal Campeggio was joined to Wolsey, for
the trial of the king’s marriage; but he could not be prevailed on to
insert the clause desired of him. And though he put into Gardiner’s hand
a letter, promising not to recall the present commission, this promise
was found, on examination, to be couched in such ambiguous terms, as
left him still the power, whenever he pleased, of departing from it.[**]
* Lord Herbert. Burnet, vol. i. p. 29, in the Collect. Le
Grand, vol iii. p. 28. Strype, vol. i. p. 93, with App. No.
23-24, etc.
** Lord Herbert, p. 221 Burnet, p. 59.
Campeggio lay under some obligations to the king; but his dependence on
the pope was so much greater, that he conformed himself entirely to the
views of the latter; and though he received his commission in April,
he delayed his departure under so many pretences, that it was October
before he arrived in England. The first step which he took was to exhort
the king to desist from the prosecution of his divorce; and finding
that this counsel gave offence, he said, that his intention was also to
exhort the queen to take the vows in a convent, and that he thought
it his duty previously to attempt an amicable composure of all
differences.[* ]The more to pacify the king, he showed to him, as also
to the cardinal the decretal bull, annulling the former marriage with
Catharine; but no entreaties could prevail on him to make any other of
the king’s council privy to the secret.[**] In order to atone in some
degree for this obstinacy, he expressed to the king and the cardinal the
pope’s great desire of satisfying them in every reasonable demand; and
in particular, he showed that their request for suppressing some more
monasteries, and converting them into cathedrals and episcopal sees, had
obtained the consent of his holiness.[***]
These ambiguous circumstances in the behavior of the pope and the
legate, kept the court of England in suspense, and determined the king
to wait with patience the issue of such uncertain councils.
{1529.} Fortune, meanwhile, seemed to promise him a more sure and
expeditious way of extricating himself from his present difficulties.
Clement was seized with a dangerous illness; and the intrigues, for
electing his successor, began already to take place among the cardinals.
Wolsey, in particular, supported by the interest of England and of
France, entertained hopes of mounting the throne of St. Peter;[****] and
it appears, that if a vacancy had then happened, there was a probability
of his reaching that summit of his ambition. But the pope recovered,
though after several relapses; and he returned to the same train of
false and deceitful politics, by which he had hitherto amused the court
of England. Be still flattered Henry with professions of the most
cordial attachment, and promised him a sudden and favorable issue to his
process: he still continued his secret negotiations with Charles, and
persevered in the resolution of sacrificing all his promises, and all
the interests of the Romish religion, to the elevation of his family.
Campeggio, who was perfectly acquainted with his views and intentions,
protracted the decision by the most artful delays; and gave Clement full
leisure to adjust all the terms of his treaty with the emperor.
* Herbert, p 225.
** Burnet, p. 58.
*** Rymer, vol xiv. p. 270. Strype, vol.i. p. 110, 111. App.
No 28
**** Burnet, vol. i. p. 63.
The emperor, acquainted with the king’s extreme earnestness in this
affair, was determined that he should obtain success by no other
means than by an application to him and by deserting his alliance with
Francis, which had hitherto supported, against the superior force
of Spain, the tottering state of the French monarchy. He willingly
hearkened, therefore, to the applications of Catharine, his aunt; and
promising her his utmost protection, exhorted her never to yield to the
malice and persecutions of her enemies. The queen herself was naturally
of a firm and resolute temper; and was engaged by every motive to
persevere in protesting against the injustice to which she thought
herself exposed. The imputation of incest, which was thrown upon her
marriage with Henry, struck her with the highest indignation: the
illegitimacy of her daughter, which seemed a necessary consequence, gave
her the most just concern: the reluctance of yielding to a rival, who,
she believed, had supplanted her in the king’s affections, was a very
natural motive. Actuated by all these considerations, she never
ceased soliciting her nephew’s assistance, and earnestly entreating
an evocation of the cause to Rome, where alone, she thought, she could
expect justice. And the emperor, in all his negotiations with the pope,
made the recall of the commission which Campeggio and Wolsey exercised
in England a fundamental article.[*]
* Herbert, p. 225. Burnet, vol i. p. 69.
The two legates, meanwhile, opened their court at London, and cited the
king and queen to appear before it. They both presented themselves; and
the king answered to his name, when called: but the queen, instead of
answering to hers rose from her seat, and throwing herself at the king’s
feet, made a very pathetic harangue, which her virtue, her dignity, and
her misfortunes rendered the more affecting. She told him, that she
was a stranger in his dominions, without protection, without council,
without assistance; exposed to all the injustice which her enemies were
pleased to impose upon her: that she had quitted her native country
without other resource than her connections with him and his family, and
had expected that, instead of suffering thence any violence or iniquity,
she was assured in them of a safeguard against every misfortune: that
she had been his wife during twenty years, and would here appeal to
himself, whether her affectionate submission to his will had not merited
better treatment, than to be thus, after so long a time, thrown from
him with so much indignity: that she was conscious--he himself was
assured--that her virgin honor was yet unstained when he received her
into his bed and that her connections with his brother had been carried
no further than the ceremony of marriage: that their parents, the kings
of England and Spain, were esteemed the wisest princes of their time,
and had undoubtedly acted by the best advice, when they formed the
agreement for that marriage, which was now represented as so criminal
and unnatural: and that she acquiesced in their judgment, and would not
submit her cause to be tried by a court, whose dependence on her enemies
was too visible, ever to allow her any hopes of obtaining from them an
equitable or impartial decision.[*] Having spoken these words, she rose,
and making the king a low reverence, she departed from the court, and
never would again appear in it.
After her departure, the king did her the justice to acknowledge, that
she had ever been a dutiful and affectionate wife, and that the whole
tenor of her behavior had been conformable to the strictest rules of
probity and honor. He only insisted on his own scruples with regard
to the lawfulness of their marriage; and he explained the origin, the
progress, and the foundation of those doubts, by which he had been so
long and so violently agitated. He acquitted Cardinal Wolsey from having
any hand in encouraging his scruples; and he craved a sentence of the
court agreeable to the justice of his cause.
The legates, after citing the queen anew, declared her contumacious,
notwithstanding her appeal to Rome; and then proceeded to the
examination of the cause. The first point which came before them
was, the proof of Prince Arthur’s consummation of his marriage with
Catharine; and it must be confessed, that no stronger arguments could
reasonably be expected of such a fact after so long an interval. The age
of the prince, who had passed his fifteenth year, the good state of his
health, the long time that he had cohabited with his consort, many of
his expressions to that very purpose; all these circumstances form a
violent presumption in favor of the king’s assertion.[**] Henry himself,
after his brother’s death was not allowed for some time to bear the
title of prince of Wales, in expectation of her pregnancy: the Spanish
ambassador, in order the better to insure possession of her jointure,
had sent over to Spain proofs of the consummation of her marriage:[***]
Julius’s bull itself was founded on the supposition that Arthur had
perhaps had knowledge of the princess: in the very treaty, fixing
Henry’s marriage, the consummation of the former marriage with Prince
Arthur is acknowledged on both sides.[****]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 73. Hall. Stowe, p. 543.
** Herbert.
*** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 85.
**** Rymer, vol. xiii. p. 81.
These particulars were all laid before the court; accompanied with many
reasonings concerning the extent of the pope’s authority, and against
his power of granting a dispensation to marry within the prohibited
degrees. Campeggio heard these doctrines with great impatience; and
notwithstanding his resolution to protract the cause, he was often
tempted to interrupt and silence the king’s counsel, when they
insisted on such disagreeable topics. The trial was spun out till the
twenty-third of July; and Campeggio chiefly took on him the part of
conducting it. Wolsey, though the elder cardinal, permitted him to act
as president of the court; because it was thought, that a trial managed
by an Italian cardinal would carry the appearance of greater candor and
impartiality, than if the king’s own minister and favorite had presided
in it. The business now seemed to be drawing near to a period; and the
king was every day in expectation of a sentence in his favor; when, to
his great surprise, Campeggio, on a sudden, without any warning, and
upon very frivolous pretences,[*] prorogued the court till the first of
October. The evocation, which came a few days after from Rome, put
an end to all the hopes of success which the king had so long and so
anxiously cherished.[**]
During the time that the trial was carried on before the legates at
London, the emperor had by his ministers earnestly solicited Clement to
evoke the cause; and had employed every topic of hope or terror which
could operate either on the ambition or timidity of the pontiff. The
English ambassadors, on the other hand, in conjunction with the French,
had been no less earnest in their applications, that the legates should
be allowed to finish the trial; but though they employed the same
engines of promises and menaces, the motives which they could set before
the pope were not so urgent or immediate as those which were held up to
him by the emperor.[***] The dread of losing England, and of fortifying
the Lutherans by so considerable an accession, made small impression on
Clement’s mind, in comparison of the anxiety for his personal safety,
and the fond desire of restoring the Medici to their dominion in
Florence. As soon, therefore, as he had adjusted all terms with the
emperor he laid hold of the pretence of justice, which required him,
as he asserted, to pay regard to the queen’s appeal; and suspending the
commission of the legates, he adjourned the cause to his own personal
judgment at Rome. Campeggio had beforehand received private orders,
delivered by Campana, to burn the decretal bull with which he was
intrusted.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 76, 77.
** Herbert, p. 254.
**** Burnet, vol. i. p. 75.
Wolsey had long foreseen this measure as the sure forerunner of his
ruin. Though he had at first desired that the king should rather marry
a French princess than Anne Boleyn, he had employed himself with the
utmost assiduity and earnestness to bring the affair to a happy issue:
[*] he was not, therefore, to be blamed for the unprosperous event which
Clement’s partiality had produced. But he had sufficient experience of
the extreme ardor and impatience of Henry’s temper, who could bear no
contradiction, and was wont, without examination or distinction, to
make his ministers answerable for the success of those transactions
with which they were intrusted. Anne Boleyn also, who was prepossessed
against him, had imputed to him the failure of her hopes; and as she was
newly returned to court, whence she had been removed, from a regard to
decency, during the trial before the legates, she had naturally acquired
an additional influence on Henry, and she served much to fortify his
prejudices against the cardinal.[**] Even the queen and her partisans,
judging of Wolsey by the part which he had openly acted, had expressed
great animosity against him; and the most opposite factions seemed
now to combine in the ruin of this haughty minister. The high opinion
itself, which Henry had entertained of the cardinal’s capacity, tended
to hasten his downfall; while he imputed the bad success of that
minister’s undertakings, not to ill fortune or to mistake, but to the
malignity or infidelity of his intentions. The blow, however, fell not
instantly on his head. The king, who probably could not justify by any
good reason his alienation from his ancient favorite, seems to have
remained some time in suspense; and he received him, if not with all his
former kindness, at least with the appearance of trust and regard.
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 45. Burnet, vol, i. p. 53.
** Cavendish, p. 40.
But constant experience evinces how rarely a high confidence and
affection receives the least diminution, without sinking into absolute
indifference, or even running into the opposite extreme. The king now
determined to bring on the ruin of the cardinal with a motion almost as
precipitate as he had formerly employed in his elevation. The dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk were sent to require the great seal from him; and
on his scrupling to deliver it[*] without a more express warrant, Henry
wrote him a letter, upon which it was surrendered; and it was delivered
by the king to Sir Thomas More, a man who, besides the ornaments of
an elegant literature, possessed the highest virtue, integrity, and
capacity.
Wolsey was ordered to depart from York Place, a palace which he had
built in London, and which, though it really belonged to the see of
York, was seized by Henry, and became afterwards the residence of the
kings of England, by the title of Whitehall. All his furniture and plate
were also seized: their riches and splendor befitted rather a royal than
a private fortune. The walls of his palace were covered with cloth of
gold or cloth of silver: he had a cupboard of plate of massy gold: there
were found a thousand pieces of fine holland belonging to him. The rest
of his riches and furniture was in proportion; and his opulence was
probably no small inducement to this violent persecution against him.
The cardinal was ordered to retire to Asher, a country seat which he
possessed near Hampton Court. The world, that had paid him such abject
court during his prosperity, now entirely deserted him on this fatal
reverse of all his fortunes. He himself was much dejected with the
change; and from the same turn of mind which had made him be so vainly
elated with his grandeur, he felt the stroke of adversity with double
rigor.[**] The smallest appearance of his return to favor threw him into
transports of joy unbecoming a man. The king had seemed willing, during
some time, to intermit the blows which overwhelmed him. He granted
him his protection, and left him in possession of the sees of York and
Winchester. He even sent him a gracious message, accompanied with a
ring, as a testimony of his affection. Wolsey, who was on horseback when
the messenger met him, immediately alighted; and, throwing himself on
his knees in the mire, received in that humble attitude these marks of
his majesty’s gracious disposition towards him.
* Cavendish, p. 41.
** Strype, vol. i. p. 114, 115. App. No. 31, etc.
*** Stowe, p. 547.
But his enemies, who dreaded his return to court, never ceased plying
the king with accounts of his several offences; and Anne Boleyn, in
particular, contributed her endeavors, in conjunction with her uncle,
the duke of Norfolk, to exclude him from all hopes of ever being
reinstated in his former authority. He dismissed, therefore, his
numerous retinue and as he was a kind and beneficent master, the
separation passed not without a plentiful effusion of tears on both
sides. [*] The king’s heart, notwithstanding some gleams of kindness,
seemed now totally hardened against his old favorite. He ordered him
to be indicted in the star chamber, where a sentence was passed against
him. And, not content with this severity, he abandoned him to all the
rigor of the parliament, which now after a long interval, was again
assembled. The house of lords voted a long charge against Wolsey,
consisting of forty-four articles; and accompanied it with an
application to the king for his punishment, and his removal from all
authority. Little opposition was made to this charge in the upper house:
no evidence of any part of it was so much as called for; and as it
chiefly consists of general accusations, it was scarcely susceptible of
any.[**] [6] The articles were sent down to the house of commons; where
Thomas Cromwell, formerly a servant of the cardinal’s, and who had been
raised by him from a very low station, defended his unfortunate patron
with such spirit, generosity, and courage, as acquired him great honor,
and laid the foundation of that favor which he afterwards enjoyed with
the king.
* Cavendish. Stowe, p. 549.
** See note F, at the end of the volume.
Wolsey’s enemies, finding that either his innocence or his caution
prevented them from having any just ground of accusing him, had recourse
to a very extraordinary expedient. An indictment was laid against him,
that, contrary to a statute of Richard II., commonly called the
statute of provisors, he had procured bulls from Rome, particularly one
investing him with the legatine power, which he had exercised with very
extensive authority. He confessed the indictment, pleaded ignorance
of the statute, and threw himself on the king’s mercy. He was perhaps
within reach of the law but besides that this statute had fallen into
disuse, nothing could be more rigorous and severe than to impute to
him as a crime what he had openly, during the course of so many years,
practised with the consent and approbation of the and the acquiescence
of the parliament and kingdom. Not to mention what he always
asserted,[*] and what we can scarcely doubt of, that he had obtained
the royal license in the most formal manner, which, had he not been
apprehensive of the dangers attending any opposition to Henry’s lawless
will, he might have pleaded in his own defence before the judges.
Sentence, however, was pronounced against him, “That he was out of the
king’s protection; his lands and goods forfeited; and that his person
might be committed to custody.” But this prosecution of Wolsey was
carried no further. Henry even granted him a pardon for all offences;
restored him part of his plate and furniture; and still continued, from
time to time, to drop expressions of favor and compassion towards him.
The complaints against the usurpations of the ecclesiastics had been
very ancient in England, as well as in most other European kingdoms; and
as this topic was now become popular every where, it had paved the way
for the Lutheran tenets, and reconciled the people, in some measure, to
the frightful idea of heresy and innovation. The commons, finding the
occasion favorable, passed several bills restraining the impositions of
the clergy; one for the regulating of mortuaries; another against the
exactions for the probates of wills; [**] a third against non-residence
and pluralities, and against church-men’s being farmers of land. But
what appeared chiefly dangerous to the ecclesiastical order, were the
severe invectives thrown out, almost without opposition, in the house,
against the dissolute lives of the priests, their ambition, their
avarice, and their endless encroachments on the laity. Lord Herbert
[***] has even preserved the speech of a gentleman of Gray’s Inn, which
is of a singular nature, and contains such topics as we should little
expect to meet with during that period. The member insists upon the vast
variety of theological opinions which prevailed in different nations and
ages; the endless inextricable controversies maintained by the several
sects; the impossibility that any man, much less the people, could ever
know, much less examine, the tenets and principles of every sect; the
necessity of ignorance and a suspense of judgment with regard to all
those objects of dispute: and, upon the whole, he infers, that the only
religion obligatory on mankind is the belief of one Supreme Being, the
author of nature; and the necessity of good morals, in order to
obtain his favor and protection. Such sentiments would be deemed
latitudinarian, even in our time; and would not be advanced, without
some precaution, in a public assembly.
* Cavendish, p. 72.
** These exactions were quite arbitrary, and had risen to a
great height. A member said in the house, that a thousand
marks had been exacted from him on that account. Hall, fol.
188 Strype, vol. i. p. 73.
*** Page 293.
But though the first broaching of religious controversy might encourage
the sceptical turn in a few persons of a studious disposition, the zeal
with which men soon after attached themselves to their several parties,
served effectually to banish for a long time all such obnoxious
liberties.
The bills for regulating the clergy met with some opposition in the
house of lords. Bishop Fisher, in particular, imputed these measures of
the commons to their want of faith; and to a formed design, derived
from heretical and Lutheran principles, of robbing the church of her
patrimony, and over-turning the national religion. The duke of Norfolk
reproved the prelate in severe, and even somewhat indecent terms. He
told him, that the greatest clerks were not always the wisest men. But
Fisher replied, that he did not remember any fools in his time who had
proved great clerks. The exceptions taken at the bishop of Rochester’s
speech stopped not there. The commons, by the mouth of Sir Thomas
Audley, their speaker, made complaints to the king of the reflections
thrown upon them; and the bishop was obliged to put a more favorable
construction on his words.[*]
Henry was not displeased that the court of Rome and the clergy should
be sensible that they were entirely dependent on him, and that his
parliament, if he were willing to second their inclinations, was
sufficiently disposed to reduce the power and privileges of the
ecclesiastics. The commons gratified the king in another particular of
moment: they granted him a discharge of all those debts which he had
contracted since the beginning of his reign,[**] and they grounded this
bill, which occasioned many complaints, on a pretence of the king’s
great care of the nation, and of his regularly employing all the money
which he had borrowed in the public service.
* Parl. Hist. vol. iii. p. 59.
**Burnet, vol. ii. p. 82.
Most of the king’s creditors consisted of friends to the cardinal who
had been engaged by their patron to contribute to the supply of Henry’s
necessities; and the present courtiers were well pleased to take the
opportunity of mulcting them.[*] Several also approved of an expedient
which, they hoped, would ever after discredit a method of supply so
irregular and so unparliamentary.
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 83.
The domestic transactions of England were at present so interesting
to the king, that they chiefly engaged his attention; and he regarded
foreign affairs only in subordination to them. He had declared war
against the emperor; but the mutual advantages reaped by the commerce
between England and the Netherlands, had engaged him to stipulate a
neutrality with those provinces; and, except by money contributed to the
Italian wars, he had in effect exercised no hostility against any of
the imperial dominions. A general peace was this summer established
in Europe. Margaret of Austria and Louisa of Savoy met at Cambray,
and settled the terms of pacification between the French king and the
emperor. Charles accepted of two millions of crowns in lieu of Burgundy;
and he delivered up the two princes of France, whom he had retained as
hostages. Henry was, on this occasion, so generous to his friend and
ally Francis, that he sent him an acquittal of near six hundred thousand
crowns, which that prince owed him. Francis’s Italian confederates were
not so well satisfied as the king with the peace of Cambray: they were
almost wholly abandoned to the will of the emperor, and seemed to have
no means of security left but his equity and moderation. Florence,
after a brave resistance, was subdued by the imperial arms, and finally
delivered over to the dominion of the family of Medici. The Venetians
were better treated: they were only obliged to relinquish some
acquisitions which they had made on the coast of Naples. Even Francis
Sforza obtained the investiture of Milan, and was pardoned for all past
offences. The emperor in person passed into Italy with a magnificent
train, and received the imperial crown from the hands of the pope at
Bologna. He was but twenty-nine years of age; and having already, by
his vigor and capacity, succeeded in every enterprise, and reduced to
captivity the two greatest potentates in Europe, the one spiritual,
the other temporal, he attracted the eyes of all men; and many
prognostications were formed of his growing empire.
But though Charles seemed to be prosperous on every side, and though the
conquest of Mexico and Peru now began to prevent that scarcity of money
under which he had hitherto labored, he found himself threatened with
difficulties in Germany; and his desire of surmounting them was the
chief cause of his granting such moderate conditions to the Italian
powers. Sultan Solyman, the greatest and most accomplished prince that
ever sat on the Ottoman throne, had almost entirely subdued Hungary,
had besieged Vienna, and, though repulsed, still menaced the hereditary
dominions of the house of Austria with conquest and subjection. The
Lutheran princes of the empire, finding that liberty of conscience
was denied them, had combined in a league for their own defence at
Smalcalde, and because they protested against the votes passed in
the imperial diet, they thenceforth received the appellation, of
“protestants.” Charles had undertaken to reduce them to obedience; and
on pretence of securing the purity of religion, he had laid a scheme for
aggrandizing his own family, by extending its dominion over all Germany.
The friendship of Henry was one material circumstance yet wanting to
Charles, in order to insure success in his ambitious enterprises; and
the king was sufficiently apprised that the concurrence of that prince
would at once remove all the difficulties which lay in the way of his
divorce; that point which had long been the object of his most earnest
wishes. But besides that the interests of his kingdom seemed to require
an alliance with France, his haughty spirit could not submit to a
friendship imposed on him by constraint; and as he had ever been
accustomed to receive courtship, deference, and solicitation from the
greatest potentates, he could ill brook that dependence to which this
unhappy affair seemed to have reduced him. Amidst the anxieties with
which he was agitated, he was often tempted to break off all
connections with the court of Rome; and though he had been educated in
a superstitious reverence to papal authority, it is likely that his
personal experience of the duplicity and selfish politics of Clement
had served much to open his eyes in that particular. He found his
prerogative firmly established at home: lie observed that his people
were in general much disgusted with clerical usurpations, and disposed
to reduce the powers find privileges of the ecclesiastical order: he
knew that they had cordially taken part with him in his prosecution of
the divorce, and highly resented the unworthy treatment which after
so many services and such devoted attachment, he had received from the
court of Rome. Anne Boleyn also could not fail to use all her
efforts, and employ every insinuation, in order to make him proceed to
extremities against the pope; both as it was the readiest way to her
attaining royal dignity, and as her education in the court of the
duchess of Alençon, a princess inclined to the reformers, had already
disposed her to a belief of the new doctrines. But notwithstanding these
inducements, Henry had strong motives still to desire a good agreement
with the sovereign pontiff. He apprehended the danger of such great
innovations: he dreaded the reproach of heresy: he abhorred all
connections with the Lutherans, the chief opponents of the papal power;
and having once exerted himself with such applause, as he imagined, in
defence of the Romish communion, he was ashamed to retract his former
opinions, and betray from passion such a palpable inconsistency. While
he was agitated by these contrary motives, an expedient was proposed,
which, as it promised a solution of all difficulties, was embraced by
him with the greatest joy and satisfaction.
Dr. Thomas Cranmer, fellow of Jesus College in Cambridge, was a man
remarkable in that university for his learning, and still more for
the candor and disinterestedness of his temper. He fell one evening by
accident into company with Gardiner, now secretary of state, and Fox,
the king’s almoner; and as the business of the divorce became the
subject of conversation, he observed that the readiest way either to
quiet Henry’s conscience, or extort the pope’s consent, would be to
consult all the universities of Europe with regard to this controverted
point: if they agreed to approve of the king’s marriage with Catharine,
his remorses would naturally cease; if they condemned it, the pope would
find it difficult to resist the solicitations of so great a monarch,
seconded by the opinion of all the learned men in Christendom.[*] When
the king was informed of the proposal, he was delighted with it; and
swore, with more alacrity than delicacy that Cranmer had got the right
sow by the ear: he sent for that divine; entered into conversation with
him; conceived a high opinion of his virtue and understanding; engaged
him to write in defence of the divorce; and immediately, in prosecution
of the scheme proposed, employed his agents to collect the judgments of
all the universities in Europe.
* Fox, p. 1860 2d edit. Burnet, vol. i. p. 79. Speed, p.
769. Heylin, p. 5
Had the question of Henry’s marriage with Catharine been examined by the
principles of sound philosophy, exempt from superstition, it seemed not
liable to much difficulty. The natural reason why marriage in certain
degrees is prohibited by the civil laws, and condemned by the moral
sentiments of all nations, is derived from men’s care to preserve
purity of manners; while they reflect, that if a commerce of love
were authorized between near relations, the frequent opportunities of
intimate conversation, especially during early youth, would introduce a
universal dissoluteness and corruption. But as the customs of countries
vary considerably, and open an intercourse, more or less restrained,
between different families, or between the several members of the same
family, we find that the moral precept, varying with its cause, is
susceptible, without any inconvenience, of very different latitude in
the several ages and nations of the world. The extreme delicacy of the
Greeks permitted no communication between persons of different sexes,
except where they lived under the same roof; and even the apartments
of a step-mother and her daughters were almost as much shut up against
visits from the husband’s sons, as against those from any stranger or
more distant relation: hence, in that nation, it was lawful for a man to
marry not only his niece, but his half-sister by the father; a liberty
unknown to the Romans, and other nations, where a more open intercourse
was authorized between the sexes. Reasoning from this principle, it
would appear, that the ordinary commerce of life among great princes
is so obstructed by ceremony and numerous attendants, that no ill
consequence would result among them from marrying a brother’s widow;
especially if the dispensation of the supreme priest be previously
required, in order to justify what may in common cases be condemned, and
to hinder the precedent from becoming too common and familiar. And
as strong motives of public interest and tranquillity may frequently
require such alliances between the foreign families, there is the less
reason for extending towards them the full rigor of the rule which has
place among individuals.[*] [7]
* See note G, at the end of the volume.
But in opposition to these reasons, and many more which might be
collected, Henry had custom and precedent on his side, the principle by
which men are almost wholly governed in their actions and opinions. The
marrying of a brother’s widow was so unusual, that no other instance of
it could be found in any history or record of any Christian nation;
and though the popes were accustomed to dispense with more essential
precepts of morality, and even permitted marriages within other
prohibited degrees, such as those of uncle and niece, the imaginations
of men were not yet reconciled to this particular exercise of his
authority.
{1530.} Several universities of Europe, therefore, without hesitation,
as well as without interest or reward,[*] gave verdict in the king’s
favor; not only those of France, Paris, Orleans, Bourges, Toulouse,
Angiers, which might be supposed to lie under the influence of their
prince, ally to Henry; but also those of Italy, Venice, Ferrara, Padua;
even Bologna itself, though under the immediate jurisdiction of Clement.
Oxford alone[**] and Cambridge* made some difficulty; because these
universities, alarmed at the progress of Lutheranism, and dreading a
defection from the holy see, scrupled to give their sanction to
measures whose consequences they feared would prove fatal to the ancient
religion. Their opinion, however, conformable to that of the other
universities of Europe, was at last obtained; and the king, in order to
give more weight to all these authorities, engaged his nobility to write
a letter to the pope, recommending his cause to the holy father, and
threatening him with the most dangerous consequences in case of a denial
of justice.[***] The convocations, too, both of Canterbury and York,
pronounced the king’s marriage invalid, irregular, and contrary to the
law of God, with which no human power had authority to dispense.[****]
* Herbert. Burnet.
** Wood, Hist. and Ant. Ox. lib. i. p. 225.
*** Burnet, vol. i, p. 6.
**** Rymer, vol. xiv. p. 405. Burnet, vol. i. p. 95.
But Clement, lying still under the influence of the emperor, continued
to summon the king to appear, either by himself or proxy, before his
tribunal at Rome; and the king, who knew that he could expect no fair
trial there, refused to submit to such a condition, and would not
even admit of any citation, which he regarded as a high insult, and a
violation of his royal prerogative. The father of Anne Boleyn, created
earl of Wiltshire, carried to the pope the king’s reasons for not
appearing by proxy; and, as the first instance of disrespect from
England, refused to kiss his holiness’s foot which he very graciously
held out to him for that purpose.[*]
The extremities to which Henry was pushed, both against the pope and the
ecclesiastical order, were naturally disagreeable to Cardinal Wolsey;
and as Henry foresaw his opposition, it is the most probable reason that
can be assigned for his renewing the prosecution against his ancient
favorite. After Wolsey had remained some time at Asher, he was allowed
to remove to Richmond, a palace which he had received as a present from
Henry, in return for Hampton Court; but the courtiers, dreading still
his vicinity to the king, procured an order for him to remove to his
see of York. The cardinal knew it was in vain to resist: he took up his
residence at Cawood, in Yorkshire, where he rendered himself extremely
popular in the neighborhood by his affability and hospitality;[**] but
he was not allowed to remain long unmolested in this retreat.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 94.
** Cavendish. Stowe, p. 551.
The earl of Northumberland received, orders, without regard to Wolsey’s
ecclesiastical character, to arrest him for high treason, and to conduct
him to London, in order to his trial. The cardinal, partly from the
fatigues of his journey, partly from the agitation of his anxious mind,
was seized with a disorder which turned into a dysentery; and he was
able, with some difficulty, to reach Leicester Abbey. When the abbot and
the monks advanced to receive him with much respect and reverence,
he told them that he was come to lay his bones among them; and he
immediately took to his bed, whence he never rose more. A little before
he expired, he addressed himself in the following words to Sir William
Kingston, constable of the Tower, who had him in custody. “I pray you
have me heartily recommended unto his royal majesty, and beseech him
on my behalf to call to his remembrance all matters that have passed
between us from the beginning, especially with regard to his business
with the queen; and then will he know in his conscience whether I have
offended him.
“He is a prince of a most royal carriage, and hath a princely heart; and
rather than he will miss or want any part of his will, he will endanger
the one half of his kingdom.
“I do assure you, that I have often kneeled before him, sometimes three
hours together, to persuade him from his will and appetite; but could
not prevail: had I but served God as diligently as I have served the
king, he would not have given me over in my gray hairs. But this is the
just reward that I must receive for my indulgent pains and study, not
regarding my service to God, but only to my prince. Therefore, let me
advise you, if you be one of the privy council, as by your wisdom you
are fit, take care what you put into the king’s head; for you can never
put it out again.”[*]
* Cavendish.
[Illustration: 1-376-tower.jpg THE TOWER OF LONDON]
Thus died this famous cardinal, whose character seems to have contained
as singular a variety as the fortune to which he was exposed. The
obstinacy and violence of the king’s temper may alleviate much of the
blame which some of his favorite’s measures have undergone; and when
we consider, that the subsequent part of Henry’s reign was much more
criminal than that which had been directed by Wolsey’s counsels, we
shall be inclined to suspect those historians of partiality, who
have endeavored to load the memory of this minister with such violent
reproaches. If, in foreign politics, he sometimes employed his influence
over the king for his private purposes, rather than his master’s
service, which, he boasted, he had solely at heart, we must remember,
that he had in view the papal throne; a dignity which, had he attained
it, would have enabled him to make Henry a suitable return for all his
favors. The cardinal of Amboise, whose memory is respected in France,
always made this apology for his own conduct, which was, in some
respect, similar to Wolsey’s; and we have reason to think, that Henry
was well acquainted with the views by which his minister was influenced,
and took a pride in promoting them. He much regretted his death, when
informed of it, and always spoke favorably of his memory; a proof that
humor, more than reason, or any discovery of treachery, had occasioned
the last persecutions against him.
{1531.} A new session of parliament was held, together with a
convocation; and the king here gave strong proofs of his extensive
authority, as well as of his intention to turn it to the depression
of the clergy. As an ancient statute, now almost obsolete, had been
employed to ruin Wolsey, and render his exercise of the legatine power
criminal, notwithstanding the king’s permission, the same law was now
turned against the ecclesiastics. It was pretended, that every one who
had submitted to the legatine court, that is, the whole church, had
violated the statute of provisors; and the attorney-general accordingly
brought an indictment against them.[*] The convocation knew, that it
would be in vain to oppose reason or equity to the king’s arbitrary
will, or plead that their ruin would have been the certain consequence
of not submitting to Wolsey’s commission, which was procured by Henry’s
consent, and supported by his authority. They chose, therefore, to throw
themselves on the mercy of their sovereign; and they agreed to pay
a hundred and eighteen thousand eight hundred and forty pounds for a
pardon.[**] A confession was likewise extorted from them, that the
king was the protector and the supreme head of the church and clergy of
England; though some of them had the dexterity to get a clause inserted,
which invalidated the whole submission, and which ran in these terms:
“in so far as is permitted by the law of Christ.”
The commons, finding that a pardon was granted the clergy, began to
be apprehensive for themselves, lest either they should afterwards be
brought into trouble on account of their submission to the legatine
court, or a supply, in like manner, be extorted from them, in return for
their pardon. They therefore petitioned the king to grant a remission to
his lay subjects; but they met with a repulse. He told them, that if he
ever chose to forgive their offence, it would be from his own goodness,
not from their application, lest he should seem to be compelled to it.
Some time after, when they despaired of obtaining this concession, he
was pleased to issue a pardon to the laity; and the commons expressed
great gratitude for that act of clemency.[***]
{1532.} By this strict execution of the statute of provisors, a great
part of the profit, and still more of the power of the court of Rome
was cut off; and the connections between the pope and the English clergy
were in some measure dissolved. The next session found both king and
parliament in the same dispositions. An act was passed against levying
the annates or first-fruits,[****] being a year’s rent of all the
bishoprics that fell vacant; a tax which was imposed by the court of Rome
for granting bulls to the new prelates, and which was found to amount to
considerable sums.
* Antiq. Brit. Eccles. p. 325. Burnet, vol. i. p. 106.
** Holingshed, p. 923.
*** Hall’s Chronicle. Holingshed, p. 923. Baker, p. 208.
**** Burnet, vol. i. Collect. No. 41. Strype, vol. i. p.
144.
Since the second of Henry VII., no less than one hundred and sixty
thousand pounds had been transmitted to Rome on account of this claim;
which the parliament, therefore, reduced to five per cent. on all the
episcopal benefices. The better to keep the pope in awe, the king was
intrusted with a power of regulating these payments, and of confirming
or infringing this act at his pleasure; and it was voted, that any
censures which should be passed by the court of Rome on account of that
law, should be entirely disregarded, and that mass should be said, and
the sacraments administered, as if no such censures had been issued.
This session, the commons preferred to the king a long complaint against
the abuses and oppressions of the ecclesiastical courts; and they were
proceeding to enact laws for remedying them, when a difference arose,
which put an end to the session before the parliament had finished all
their business. It was become a custom for men to make such settlements,
or trust deeds, of their lands by will, that they defrauded not only the
king, but all other lords, of their wards, marriages, and reliefs; and
by the same artifice the king was deprived of his premier seizin, and
the profits of the livery, which were no inconsiderable branches of his
revenue. Henry made a bill be drawn to moderate, not remedy altogether,
this abuse; he was contented, that every man should have the liberty
of disposing in this manner of the half of his land; and he told the
parliament in plain terms, “if they would not take a reasonable thing
when it was offered, he would search out the extremity of the law; and
then would not offer them so much again.” The lords came willingly into
his terms; but the commons rejected the bill; a singular instance, where
Henry might see that his power and authority, though extensive, had yet
some boundaries. The commons, however, found reason to repent of their
victory. The king made good his threats: he called together the judges
and ablest lawyers, who argued the question in chancery; and it was
decided that a man could not by law bequeath any part of his lands in
prejudice of his heir.[*]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 116. Hall. Parl. Hist.
The parliament being again assembled after a short prorogation, the king
caused the two oaths to be read to them, that which the bishops took
to the pope, and that to the king, on their installation; and as a
contradiction might be suspected between them, while the prelates seemed
to swear allegiance to two sovereigns;[*] the parliament showed their
intention of abolishing the oath to the pope, when their proceedings
were suddenly stopped by the breaking out of the plague at Westminster,
which occasioned a prorogation. It is remarkable, that one Temse
ventured this session to move, that the house should address the king,
to take back the queen, and stop the prosecution of his divorce. This
motion made the king send for Audley, the speaker, and explain to him
the scruples with which his conscience had long been burdened; scruples,
he said, which had proceeded from no wanton appetite, which had arisen
after the fervors of youth were past, and which were confirmed by the
concurring sentiments of all the learned societies in Europe. Except in
Spain and Portugal, he added, it was never heard of, that any man had
espoused two sisters; but he himself had the misfortune, he believed,
to be the first Christian man that had ever married his brother’s
widow.[**]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 123, 124.
** Herbert. Hall, fol. 205.
After the prorogation, Sir Thomas More, the chancellor, foreseeing that
all the measures of the king and parliament led to a breach with
the church of Rome, and to an alteration of religion, with which his
principles would not permit him to concur, desired leave to resign the
great seal; and he descended from his high station with more joy and
alacrity than he had mounted up to it. The austerity of this man’s
virtue, and the sanctity of his manners, had nowise encroached on the
gentleness of his temper, or even diminished that frolic and gayety to
which he was naturally inclined. He sported with all the varieties
of fortune into which he was thrown; and neither the pride naturally
attending a high station, nor the melancholy incident to poverty and
retreat, could ever lay hold of his serene and equal spirit. While his
family discovered symptoms of sorrow on laying down the grandeur and
magnificence to which they had been accustomed, he drew a subject of
mirth from their distresses; and made them ashamed of losing even a
moment’s cheerfulness on account of such trivial misfortunes. The
king, who had entertained a high opinion of his virtue, received his
resignation with some difficulty; and he delivered the great seal soon
after to Sir Thomas Audley.
During these transactions in England, and these invasions of the
papal and ecclesiastical authority, the court of Rome was not without
solicitude; and she entertained just apprehensions of losing entirely
her authority in England; the kingdom which, of all others, had long
been the most devoted to the holy see and which had yielded it the most
ample revenue. While the imperial cardinals pushed Clement to proceed
to extremities against the king, his more moderate and impartial
counsellors represented to him the indignity of his proceedings; that
a great monarch, who had signalized himself, both by his pen and his
sword, in the cause of the pope, should be denied a favor which he
demanded on such just grounds, and which had scarcely ever before been
refused to any person of his rank and station. Notwithstanding these
remonstrances, the queen’s appeal was received at Rome; the king was
cited to appear; and several consistories were held, to examine the
validity of their marriage. Henry was determined not to send any proxy
to plead his cause before this court: he only despatched Sir Edward
Karne and Dr. Bonner, in quality of excusators, (so they were called,)
to carry his apology, for not paying that deference to the papal
authority. The prerogatives of his crown, he said, must be sacrificed,
if he allowed appeals from his own kingdom; and as the question regarded
conscience, not power or interest, no proxy could supply his place, or
convey that satisfaction which the dictates of his own mind alone could
confer. In order to support himself in this measure, and add greater
security to his intended defection from Rome, he procured an interview
with Francis it Boulogne and Calais, where he renewed his personal
friendship as well as public alliance with that monarch, and concerted
all measures for their mutual defence. He even employed arguments, by
which he believed he had persuaded Francis to imitate his example in
withdrawing his obedience from the bishop of Rome, and administering
ecclesiastical affairs without having further recourse to that see. And
being now fully determined in his own mind, as well as resolute to stand
all consequences, he privately celebrated his marriage with Anne Boleyn,
whom he had previously created marchioness of Pembroke. Rouland Lee,
soon after raised to the bishopric of Coventry, officiated at the
marriage. The duke of Norfolk, uncle to the new queen, her father,
mother, and brother, together with Dr. Cranmer, were present at the
ceremony.[*]
* Herbert, p. 340, 341.
Anne became pregnant soon after her marriage, and this event both gave
great satisfaction to the king, and was regarded by the people as a
strong proof of the queen’s former modesty and virtue.
{1533.} The parliament was again assembled; and Henry, in conjunction
with the great council of the nation, proceeded still in those gradual
and secure steps, by which they loosened their connections with the see
of Rome, and repressed the usurpations of the Roman pontiff. An act
was made against all appeals to Rome in causes of matrimony, divorces,
wills, and other suits cognizable in ecclesiastical courts; appeals
esteemed dishonorable to the kingdom, by subjecting it to a foreign
jurisdiction; and found to be very vexatious by the expense and the
delay of justice which necessarily attended them.[*] The more to show
his disregard to the pope, Henry, finding the new queen’s pregnancy to
advance, publicly owned his marriage; and in order to remove all doubts
with regard to its lawfulness, he prepared measures for declaring, by
a formal sentence, the invalidity of his marriage with Catharine;
a sentence which ought naturally to have preceded his espousing of
Anne.[**]
The king, even amidst his scruples and remorses on account of his first
marriage, had always treated Catharine with respect and distinction; and
he endeavored, by every soft and persuasive art, to engage her to depart
from her appeal to Rome, and her opposition to his divorce. Finding
her obstinate in maintaining the justice of her cause, he had totally
forborne all visits and intercourse with her; and had desired her to
make choice of any one of his palaces, in which she should please
to reside. She had fixed her abode for some time at Amphill, near
Dunstable; and it was in this latter town that Cranmer, now created
archbishop of Canterbury, on the death of Warham,[**] [8] was appointed
to open his court for examining the validity of her marriage. The near
neighborhood of the place was chosen, in order to deprive her of all
plea of ignorance; and as she made no answer to the citation, either
by herself or proxy, she was declared “contumacious;” and the primate
proceeded to the examination of the cause.
* 24 Henry VIII. c. 12.
** Collier, vol. ii. p. 31, and Records, No. 8.
*** See note H, at the end of the volume.
The evidences of Arthur’s consummation of his marriage were anew
produced; the opinions of the universities were read, together with
the judgment pronounced two years before by the convocations both
of Canterbury and York, and after these preliminary steps, Cranmer
proceeded to a sentence, and annulled the king’s marriage with Catharine
as unlawful and invalid. By a subsequent sentence, he ratified the
marriage with Anne Boleyn, who soon after was publicly crowned queen,
with all the pomp and dignity suited to that ceremony.[*] To complete
the king’s satisfaction on the conclusion of this intricate and
vexatious affair, she was safely delivered of a daughter, who received
the name of Elizabeth, and who afterwards swayed the sceptre with such
renown and felicity. Henry was so much delighted with the birth of this
child, that soon after he conferred on her the title of princess of
Wales,[**] a step somewhat irregular, as she could only be presumptive,
not apparent heir of the crown. But he had, during his former marriage,
thought proper to honor his daughter Mary with that title; and he was
determined to bestow on the offspring of his present marriage the same
mark of distinction, as well as to exclude the elder princess from all
hopes of the succession. His regard for the new queen seemed rather to
increase than diminish by his marriage; and all men expected to see the
entire ascendant of one who had mounted a throne from which her birth
had set her at so great a distance, and who, by a proper mixture of
severity and indulgence, had long managed so intractable a spirit as
that of Henry. In order to efface as much as possible all marks of his
first marriage, Lord Mountjoy was sent to the unfortunate and divorced
queen, to inform her, that she was thenceforth to be treated only as
princess dowager of Wales; and all means were employed to make her
acquiesce in that determination. But she continued obstinate in
maintaining the validity of her marriage; and she would admit no person
to her presence who did not approach her with the accustomed ceremonial.
Henry, forgetting his wonted generosity towards her, employed menaces
against such of her servants as complied with her commands in this
particular; but was never able to make her relinquish her title and
pretensions.[***]
* Heylin, p. 6.
** Burnet, vol. i, p. 134.
*** Herbert, p. 326. Burnet, vol. i. p. 132.
When intelligence was conveyed to Rome of these transactions, so
injurious to the authority and reputation of the holy see, the conclave
was in a rage, and all the cardinals of the imperial faction urged the
pope to proceed to a definitive sentence, and to dart his spiritual
thunders against Henry. But Clement proceeded no further than to declare
the nullity of Cranmer’s sentence, as well as that of Henry’s second
marriage; threatening him with excommunication, if before the first
of November ensuing he did not replace every thing in the condition in
which it formerly stood.[*] An event had happened from which the
pontiff expected a more amicable conclusion of the difference, and which
hindered him from carrying matters to extremity against the king.
The pope had claims upon the duchy of Ferrara for the sovereignty of
Reggio and Modena;[**] and having submitted his pretensions to the
arbitration of the emperor, he was surprised to find a sentence
pronounced against him. Enraged at this disappointment, he hearkened to
proposals of amity from Francis; and when that monarch made overtures of
marrying the duke of Orleans, his second son, to Catharine of Medicis,
niece of the pope, Clement gladly embraced an alliance by which his
family was so much honored. An interview was even appointed between the
pope and French king at Marseilles; and Francis, as a common friend,
there employed his good offices in mediating an accommodation between
his new ally and the king of England.
* Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 566.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 133. Guicciard.
Had this connection of France with the court of Rome taken place a few
years sooner, there had been little difficulty in adjusting the quarrel
with Henry. The king’s request was an ordinary one; and the same plenary
power of the pope which had granted a dispensation for his espousing of
Catharine, could easily have annulled the marriage. But, in the progress
of the quarrel, the state of affairs was much changed on both sides.
Henry had shaken off much of that reverence which he had early imbibed
for the apostolic see; and finding that his subjects of all ranks
had taken part with him, and willingly complied with his measures for
breaking off foreign dependence, he had begun to relish his spiritual
authority, and would scarcely, it was apprehended, be induced to renew
his submissions to the Roman pontiff. The pope, on the other hand, now
ran a manifest risk of infringing his authority by a compliance with
the king; and as a sentence of divorce could no longer be rested on
nullities in Julius’s bull, but would be construed as an acknowledgment
of papal usurpations, it was foreseen that the Lutherans would thence
take occasion of triumph, and would persevere more obstinately in their
present principles. But notwithstanding these obstacles, Francis did not
despair of mediating an agreement. He observed that the king had still
some remains of prejudice in favor of the Catholic church, and was
apprehensive of the consequences which might ensue from too violent
innovations. He saw the interest that Clement had in preserving the
obedience of England, which was one of the richest jewels in the papal
crown. And he hoped that these motives on both sides would facilitate a
mutual agreement, and would forward the effects of his good offices.
{1534.} Francis first prevailed on the pope to promise, that if the king
would send a proxy to Rome, and thereby submit his cause to the holy
see, he should appoint commissioners to meet at Cambray, and form the
process; and he should immediately afterwards pronounce the sentence of
divorce required of him. Bellay, bishop of Paris, was next despatched
to London, and obtained a promise from the king that he would submit his
cause to the Roman consistory, provided the cardinals of the imperial
faction were excluded from it. The prelate carried this verbal promise
to Rome; and the pope agreed that, if the king would sign a written
agreement to the same purpose, his demands should be fully complied
with. A day was appointed for the return of the messengers; and all
Europe regarded this affair, which had threatened a violent rupture
between England and the Romish church, as drawing towards an amicable
conclusion.[*] But the greatest affairs often depend on the most
frivolous incidents. The courier who carried the king’s written promise
was detained beyond the day appointed: news was brought to Rome that
a libel had been published in England against the court of Rome, and a
farce acted before the king in derision of the pope and cardinals.[**]
* Father Paul, lib. i.
** Father Paul, lib, i.
The pope and cardinals entered into the consistory inflamed with anger;
and by a precipitate sentence the marriage of Henry and Catharine was
pronounced valid, and Henry declared to be excommunicated if he refused
to adhere to it. Two days after, the courier arrived; and Clement, who
had been hurried from his usual prudence, found that though he heartily
repented of this hasty measure, it would be difficult for him to retract
it, or replace affairs on the same footing as before.
It is not probable that the pope, had he conducted himself with ever so
great moderation and temper, could hope, during the lifetime of Henry,
to have regained much authority or influence in England. That monarch
was of a temper both impetuous and obstinate; and having proceeded
so far in throwing off the papal yoke, he never could again have been
brought tamely to bend his neck to it. Even at the time when he was
negotiating a reconciliation with Rome, he either entertained so little
hopes of success, or was so indifferent about the event, that he had
assembled a parliament, and continued to enact laws totally destructive
of the papal authority. The people had been prepared by degrees for this
great innovation. Each preceding session had retrenched somewhat from
the power and profits of the pontiff. Care had been taken, during some
years, to teach the nation that a general council was much superior to
a pope. But now a bishop preached every Sunday at Paul’s Cross, in order
to inculcate the doctrine that the pope was entitled to no authority
at all beyond the bounds of his own diocese.[*] The proceedings of the
parliament showed that they had entirely adopted this opinion; and there
is reason to believe that the king, after having procured a favorable
sentence from Rome, which would have removed all doubts with regard to
his second marriage and the succession, might indeed have lived on terms
of civility with the Roman pontiff, but never would have surrendered to
him any considerable share of his assumed prerogative. The importance
of the laws passed this session, even before intelligence arrived of
the violent resolutions taken at Rome, is sufficient to justify this
opinion.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 144.
All payments made to the apostolic chamber, all provisions, bulls,
dispensations, were abolished: monasteries were subjected to the
visitation and government of the king alone: the law for punishing
heretics was moderated: the ordinary was prohibited from imprisoning
or trying any person upon suspicion alone, without presentment by two
lawful witnesses; and it was declared, that to speak against the pope’s
authority was no heresy: bishops were to be appointed, by a congé
d’élire from the crown, or, in case of the dean and chapter’s refusal,
by letters patent; and no recourse was to be had to Rome for pails,
bulls, or provisions; Campeggio and Ghinucci, two Italians, were
deprived of the bishoprics of Salisbury and Worcester, which they had
hitherto enjoyed:[*] the law which had been formerly made against paying
annates or first-fruits, but which had been left in the king’s power to
suspend or enforce, was finally established: and a submission which was
exacted two years before from the clergy, and which had been
obtained with great difficulty, received this session the sanction
of parliament.[**] In this submission, the clergy acknowledged that
convocations ought to be assembled by the king’s authority only; they
promised to enact no new canons without his consent; and they agreed
that he should appoint thirty-two commissioners, in order to examine
the old canons, and abrogate such as should be found prejudicial to his
royal prerogative.[***] An appeal was also allowed from the bishop’s
court to the king in chancery.
* Le Neve’s Fasti Eccles. Angl.
** 25 Henry VIII. cap, 19.
*** Collier, vol. ii. p. 69, 70.
But the most important law passed this session was that which regulated
the succession to the crown: the marriage of the king with Catharine
was declared unlawful, void, and of no effect: the primate’s sentence
annulling it was ratified: and the marriage with Queen Anne was
established and confirmed. The crown was appointed to descend to the
issue of this marriage, and failing them, to the king’s heirs forever.
An oath likewise was enjoined to be taken in favor of this order
of succession, under the penalty of imprisonment during the king’s
pleasure, and forfeiture of goods and chattels. And all slander against
the king, queen, or their issue, was subjected to the penalty of
misprision of treason. After these compliances, the parliament was
prorogued; and those acts, so contemptuous towards the pope, and so
destructive of his authority, were passed at the very time that Clement
pronounced his hasty sentence against the king. Henry’s resentment
against Queen Catharine, on account of her obstinacy, was the reason
why he excluded her daughter from all hopes of succeeding to the crown;
contrary to his first intentions, when he began the process of divorce,
and of dispensation for a second marriage.
The king found his ecclesiastical subjects as compliant as the laity.
The convocation ordered that the act against appeals to Rome, together
with the king’s appeal from the pope to a general council should be
affixed to the doors of all the churches in the kingdom: and they voted
that the bishop of Rome had, by the law of God, no more jurisdiction in
England than any other foreign bishop; and that the authority which he
and his predecessors had there exercised, was only by usurpation, and by
the sufferance of English princes. Four persons alone opposed this vote
in the lower house, and one doubted. It passed unanimously in the upper.
The bishops went so far in their complaisance, that they took out new
commissions from the crown, in which all their spiritual and episcopal
authority was expressly affirmed to be derived ultimately from the civil
magistrate, and to be entirely dependent on his good pleasure.[*]
The oath regarding the succession was generally taken throughout the
kingdom. Fisher, bishop of Rochester, and Sir Thomas More, were the only
persons of note that entertained scruples with regard to its legality.
Fisher was obnoxious on account of some practices into which his
credulity, rather than any bad intentions, seems to have betrayed him.
But More was the person of greatest reputation in the kingdom for virtue
and integrity; and as it was believed that his authority would have
influence on the sentiments of others, great pains were taken to
convince him of the lawfulness of the oath. He declared that he had no
scruple with regard to the succession, and thought that the parliament
had full power to settle it: he offered to draw an oath himself which
would insure his allegiance to the heir appointed; but he refused the
oath prescribed by law; because the preamble of that oath asserted the
legality of the king’s marriage with Anne, and thereby implied that his
former marriage with Catharine was unlawful and invalid. Cramner, the
primate, and Cromwell, now secretary of state, who highly loved and
esteemed More, entreated him to lay aside his scruples; and their
friendly importunity seemed to weigh more with him than all the
penalties attending his refusal.[**] He persisted, however, in a mild
though firm manner, to maintain his resolution; and the king, irritated
against him as well as Fisher, ordered both to be indicted upon the
statute, and committed prisoners to the Tower.
* Collier’s Eccles. Hist. vol. ii.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 156.
The parliament, being again assembled, conferred on the king the title
of the only supreme “head” on earth of the church of England; as they
had already invested him with all the real power belonging to it.
In this memorable act, the parliament granted him power, or rather
acknowledged his inherent power, “to visit, and repress, redress,
reform, order, correct, restrain, or amend all errors, heresies, abuses,
offences, contempts, and enormities, which fell under any spiritual
authority or jurisdiction.”[*] They also declared it treason to attempt,
imagine, or speak evil against the king, queen, or his heirs; or to
endeavor depriving them of their dignities or titles. They gave him a
right to all the annates and tithes of benefices which had formerly been
paid to the court of Rome. They granted him a subsidy and a fifteenth.
They attainted More and Fisher for misprision of treason. And they
completed the union of England and Wales, by giving to that principality
all the benefit of the English laws.
* 26 Henry VIII. cap. 1.
Thus the authority of the popes, like all exorbitant power, was ruined
by the excess of its acquisitions, and by stretching its pretensions
beyond what it was possible for any human principles or prepossessions
to sustain. Indulgences had in former ages tended extremely to enrich
the holy see; but being openly abused, they served to excite the first
commotions and opposition in Germany. The prerogative of granting
dispensations had also contributed much to attach all the sovereign
princes and great families in Europe to the papal authority; but meeting
with an unlucky concurrence of circumstances, was now the cause why
England separated herself from the Romish communion. The acknowledgment
of the king’s supremacy introduced there a greater simplicity in
the government, by uniting the spiritual with the civil power,
and preventing disputes about limits, which never could be exactly
determined between the contending jurisdictions. A way was also prepared
for checking the exorbitances of superstition, and breaking those
shackles by which all human reason, policy, and industry had so long
been encumbered. The prince, it may be supposed, being head of the
religion, as well as of the temporal jurisdiction of the kingdom, though
he might sometimes employ the former as an engine of government, had no
interest, like the Roman pontiff, in nourishing its excessive growth;
and, except when blinded by his own ignorance or bigotry, would be sure
to retain it within tolerable limits, and prevent its abuses. And on the
whole, there followed from this revolution many beneficial consequences;
though perhaps neither foreseen nor intended by the persons who had the
chief hand in conducting it.
While Henry proceeded with so much order and tranquillity in changing
the national religion, and while his authority seemed entirely secure
in England, he was held in some inquietude by the state of affairs in
Ireland and in Scotland.
The earl of Kildare was deputy of Ireland, under the duke of Richmond,
the king’s natural son, who bore the title of lieutenant; and as
Kildare was accused of some violences against the family of Ossory, his
hereditary enemies, he was summoned to answer for his conduct. He left
his authority in the hands of his son, who, hearing that his father was
thrown into prison, and was in danger of his life, immediately took up
arms, and joining himself to Oneale, Ocarrol, and other Irish nobility,
committed many ravages, murdered Allen, archbishop of Dublin, and laid
siege to that city. Kildare meanwhile died in prison; and his son,
persevering in his revolt, made applications to the emperor, who
promised him assistance. The king was obliged to send over some forces
to Ireland, which so harassed the rebels, that this young nobleman,
finding the emperor backward in fulfilling his promises, was reduced to
the necessity of surrendering himself prisoner to Lord Leonard Gray,
the new deputy, brother to the marquis of Dorset. He was carried over to
England, together with his five uncles; and after trial and conviction,
they were all brought to public justice; though two of the uncles, in
order to save the family, had pretended to join the king’s party.
The earl of Angus had acquired the entire ascendant in Scotland; and
having gotten possession of the king’s person then in early youth, he
was able, by means of that advantage, and by employing the power of
his own family, to retain the reins of government. The queen dowager,
however, his consort, bred him great disturbance. For having separated
herself from him on account of some jealousies and disgusts, and having
procured a divorce, she had married another man of quality, of the name
of Stuart; and she joined all the discontented nobility who opposed
Angus’s authority. James himself was dissatisfied with the slavery to
which he was reduced, and by secret correspondence he incited first
Walter Scot, then the earl of Lenox, to attempt by force of arms the
freeing him from the hands of Angus. Both enterprises failed of success:
but James, impatient of restraint, found means at last of escape *ing
to Stirling, where his mother then resided; and having summoned all the
nobility to attend him, he overturned the authority of the Douglases,
and obliged Angus and his brother to fly into England, where they were
protected by Henry. The king of Scotland, being now arrived at years of
majority, took the government into his own hands; and employed him self
with great spirit and valor in repressing those feuds, ravages, and
disorders, which, though they disturbed the course of public justice,
served to support the martial spirit of the Scots, and contributed
by that means to maintain national independency. He was desirous of
renewing the ancient league with the French nation; but finding Francis
in close union with England, and on that account somewhat cold in
hearkening to his proposals, he received the more favorably the
advances of the emperor, who hoped, by means of such an ally, to breed
disturbance to England, He offered the Scottish king the choice of three
princesses, his own near relations, and all of the name of Mary; his
sister, the dowager of Hungary; his niece, a daughter of Portugal;
or his cousin, the daughter of Henry, whom he pretended to dispose of
unknown to her father. James was more inclined to the latter proposal,
had it not, upon reflection, been found impracticable; and his natural
propensity to France at last prevailed over all other considerations.
The alliance with Francis necessarily engaged James to maintain peace
with England. But though invited by his uncle Henry to confer with
him at Newcastle, and concert common measures for repressing the
ecclesiastics in both kingdoms, and shaking off the yoke of Rome, he
could not be prevailed on, by entering England, to put himself in the
king’s power. In order to have a pretext for refusing the conference, he
applied to the pope, and obtained a brief, forbidding him to engage
in any personal negotiations with an enemy of the holy see. From these
measures Henry easily concluded that he could very little depend on the
friendship of his nephew. But those events took not place till some time
after our present period.
CHAPTER XXXI.
HENRY VIII.
{1534.} The ancient and almost uninterrupted opposition of interests
between the laity and clergy in England, and between the English clergy
and the court of Rome, had sufficiently prepared the nation for a breach
with the sovereign pontiff; and men had penetration enough to discover
abuses which were plainly calculated for the temporal advantages of the
hierarchy, and which they found destructive of their own. These subjects
seemed proportioned to human understanding; and even the people, who
felt the power of interest in their own breasts, could perceive the
purpose of those numerous inventions which the interested spirit of
the Roman pontiff had introduced into religion. But when the reformers
proceeded thence to dispute concerning the nature of the sacraments, the
operations of grace, the terms of acceptance with the Deity, men were
thrown into amazement, and were, during some time, at a loss how to
choose their party. The profound ignorance in which both the clergy and
laity formerly lived, and their freedom from theological altercations,
had produced a sincere but indolent acquiescence in received opinions;
and the multitude were neither attached to them by topics of reasoning,
nor by those prejudices and antipathies against opponents, which
have ever a more natural and powerful influence over them. As soon,
therefore, as a new opinion was advanced, supported by such an authority
as to call up their attention, they felt their capacity totally unfitted
for such disquisitions; and they perpetually fluctuated between the
contending parties. Hence the quick and violent movements by which the
people were agitated, even in the most opposite directions: hence their
seeming prostitution, in sacrificing to present power the most sacred
principles: and hence the rapid progress during some time, and the
sudden as well as entire check soon after, of the new doctrines. When
men were once settled in their particular sects, and had fortified
themselves in an habitual detestation of those who were denominated
heretics, they adhered with more obstinacy to the principles of their
education; and the limits of the two religions thenceforth remained
fixed and unchangeable.
Nothing more forwarded the first progress of the reformers, than the
offer which they made of submitting all religious doctrines to private
judgment, and the summons given every one to examine the principles
formerly imposed upon him. Though the multitude were totally unqualified
for this undertaking, they yet were highly pleased with it. They fancied
that they were exercising their judgment, while they opposed to the
prejudices of ancient authority more powerful prejudices of another
kind. The novelty itself of the doctrines; the pleasure of an imaginary
triumph in dispute; the fervent zeal of the reformed preachers; their
patience, and even alacrity, in suffering persecution, death,
and torments; a disgust at the restraints of the old religion;
an indignation against the tyranny and interested spirit of the
ecclesiastics; these motives were prevalent with the people, and by such
considerations were men so generally induced, during that age, to throw
off the religion of their ancestors.
But in proportion as the practice of submitting religion to private
judgment was acceptable to the people, it appeared in some respects
dangerous to the rights of sovereigns, and seemed to destroy that
implicit obedience on which the authority of the civil magistrate
is chiefly founded. The very precedent of shaking so ancient and
deep-founded an establishment as that of the Romish hierarchy, might, it
was apprehended, prepare the way for other innovations. The republican
spirit which naturally took place among the reformers, increased this
jealousy. The furious insurrections of the populace, excited by Muncer
and other Anabaptists in Germany,[*] furnished a new pretence for
decrying the reformation. Nor ought we to conclude, because Protestants
in our time prove as dutiful subjects as those of any other communion,
that therefore such apprehensions were altogether without any shadow of
plausibility. Though the liberty of private judgment be tendered to the
disciples of the reformation, it is not in reality accepted of; and men
are generally contented to acquiesce implicitly in those establishments,
however new, into which their early education has thrown them.
* Sleidan, lib. iv. and v.
No prince in Europe was possessed of such absolute authority as Henry,
not even the pope himself, in his own capital, where he united both the
civil and ecclesiastical powers; [*] [9] and there was small likelihood,
that any doctrine which lay under the imputation of encouraging sedition
could ever pretend to his favor and countenance.
* See note I, at the end of the volume.
But besides this political jealousy, there was another reason which
inspired this imperious monarch with an aversion to the reformers. He
had early declared his sentiments against Luther; and having entered the
lists in those scholastic quarrels, he had received from his courtiers
and theologians infinite applause for his performance. Elated by this
imaginary success, and blinded by a natural arrogance and obstinacy of
temper, he had entertained the most lofty opinion of his own erudition;
and he received with impatience, mixed with contempt, any contradiction
to his sentiments. Luther also had been so imprudent as to treat in a
very indecent manner his royal antagonist; and though he afterwards made
the most humble submissions to Henry, and apologized for the vehemence
of his former expressions, he never could efface the hatred which the
king had conceived against him and his doctrines. The idea of heresy
still appeared detestable as well as formidable to that prince;
and whilst his resentment against the see of Rome had corrected one
considerable part of his early prejudices, he had made it a point of
honor never to relinquish the remainder. Separate as he stood from the
Catholic church, and from the Roman pontiff, the head of it, he still
valued himself on maintaining the Catholic doctrine, and or guarding, by
fire and sword, the imagined purity of his speculative principles.
Henry’s ministers and courtiers were of as motley a character as his
conduct; and seemed to waver, during this whole reign, between the
ancient and the new religion. The queen, engaged by interest as well
as inclination, favored the cause of the reformers: Cromwell, who was
created secretary of state, and who was daily advancing in the king’s
confidence, had embraced the same views; and as he was a man of prudence
and abilities, he was able, very effectually, though in a covert manner,
to promote the late innovations: Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury,
had secretly adopted the Protestant tenets; and he had gained Henry’s
friendship by his candor and sincerity; virtues which he possessed in
as eminent a degree as those times, equally distracted with faction and
oppressed by tyranny, could easily permit. On the other hand, the duke
of Norfolk adhered to the ancient faith, and by his high rank, as well
as by his talents, both for peace and war, he had great authority in
the king’s council: Gardiner, lately created bishop of Winchester, had
enlisted himself in the same party; and the suppleness of his character,
and dexterity of his conduct, had rendered him extremely useful to it.
All these ministers, while they stood in the most irreconcilable
opposition of principles to each other, were obliged to disguise
their particular opinions, and to pretend an entire agreement with
the sentiments of their master. Cromwell and Cranmer still carried the
appearance of a conformity to the ancient speculative tenets; but they
artfully made use of Henry’s resentment to widen the breach with the see
of Rome. Norfolk and Gardiner feigned an assent to the king’s supremacy,
and to his renunciation of the sovereign pontiff; but they encouraged
his passion for the Catholic faith, and instigated him to punish those
daring heretics who had presumed to reject his theological principles.
Both sides hoped, by their unlimited compliance, to bring him over
to their party: the king, meanwhile, who held the balance between the
factions, was enabled, by the courtship paid him both by Protestants
and Catholics, to assume an unbounded authority: and though in all
his measures he was really driven by his ungoverned humor, he casually
steered a course which led more certainly to arbitrary power, than any
which the most profound politics could have traced out to him. Artifice,
refinement, and hypocrisy, in his situation, would have put both parties
on their guard against him, and would have taught them reserve in
complying with a monarch whom they could never hope thoroughly to have
gained;* but while the frankness, sincerity, and openness of Henry’s
temper were generally known, as well as the dominion of his furious
passions, each side dreaded to lose him by the smallest opposition, and
flattered themselves that a blind compliance with his will would throw
him cordially and fully into their interests.
The ambiguity of the king’s conduct, though it kept the courtiers in
awe, served, in the main, to encourage the Protestant doctrine among his
subjects, and promoted that spirit of innovation with which the age was
generally seized, and which nothing but an entire uniformity, as will as
a steady severity in the administration, could be able to repress.
There were some Englishmen, Tindal, Joye, Constantine, and others, who,
dreading the exertion of the king’s authority had fled to Antwerp;[*]
where the great privileges possessed by the Low Country provinces
served, during some time, to give them protection. These men employed
themselves in writing English books against the corruptions of the
church of Rome; against images, relics, pilgrimages; and they excited
the curiosity of men with regard to that question, the most important in
theology, the terms of acceptance with the Supreme Being, In conformity
to the Lutherans and other Protestants, they asserted that salvation
was obtained by faith alone; and that the most infallible road to
perdition[**] was a reliance on “good works;” by which terms they
understood as well the moral duties as the ceremonial and monastic
observances.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 159.
** Sacrilegium est et impietas velle placere Deo per opera
et non per solam fidem. Luther adversus regem. Ita vides
quam dives sit homo Christianus sive baptizatus, qui etiam
volens non protest perdere salutem suam quantiscunque
peccatis. Nulla enim peccata possunt eum damnare nisi
incredulitas. Id. de Captivitate Bábyloniea.
The defenders of the ancient religion, on the other hand, maintained
the efficacy of good works; but though they did not exclude from this
appellation the social virtues, it was still the superstitions gainful
to the church which they chiefly extolled and recommended. The books
composed by these fugitives, having stolen over to England, began to
make converts every where; but it was a translation of the Scriptures
by Tindal that was esteemed the most dangerous to the established faith.
The first edition of this work, composed with little accuracy, was found
liable to considerable objections; and Tindal, who was poor, and could
not afford to lose a great part of the impression, was longing for
an opportunity of correcting his errors, of which he had been made
sensible. Tonstal, then bishop of London, soon after of Durham, a man of
great moderation, being desirous to discourage, in the gentlest manner,
these innovations, gave private orders for buying up all the copies that
could be found at Antwerp; and he burned them publicly in Cheapside. By
this measure he supplied Tindal with money, enabled him to print a new
and correct edition of his work, and gave great scandal to the people,
in thus committing to the flames the word of God.[*]
The disciples of the reformation met with little severity during the
ministry of Wolsey, who, though himself a clergyman, bore too small a
regard to the ecclesiastical order to serve as an instrument of their
tyranny: it was even an article of impeachment against him,[**] that by
his connivance he had encouraged the growth of heresy, and that he had
protected and acquitted some notorious offenders. Sir Thomas More,
who succeeded Wolsey as chancellor, is at once an object deserving our
compassion, and an instance of the usual progress of men’s sentiments
during that age. This man, whose elegant genius and familiar
acquaintance with the noble spirit of antiquity had given him very
enlarged sentiments, and who had in his early years advanced principles
which even at present would be deemed somewhat too free, had, in the
course of events, been so irritated by polemics, and thrown into such a
superstitious attachment to the ancient faith, that few inquisitors have
been guilty of greater violence in their prosecution of heresy. Though
adorned with the gentlest manners, as well as the purest integrity,
he carried to the utmost height his aversion to heterodoxy; and James
Bainham, in particular, a gentleman of the Temple, experienced from him
the greatest severity. Bainham, accused of favoring the new opinions,
was carried to More’s house; and having refused to discover his
accomplices, the chancellor ordered him to be whipped in his presence,
and afterwards sent him to the Tower, where he himself saw him put to
the torture. The unhappy gentleman, overcome by all these severities,
abjured his opinions; but feeling afterwards the deepest compunction for
his apostasy, he openly returned to his former tenets, and even courted
the crown of martyrdom. He was condemned as an obstinate and relapsed
heretic, and was burned in Smithfîeld.[***]
* Hall. fol. 186. Fox, vol. i. p. 138. Burnet, vol. i p.
159.
** Articles of impeachment in Herbert. Burnet.
*** Fox. Burnet, vol i. p. 165.
Many were brought into the bishops’ courts for offences which appear
trivial, but which were regarded as symbols of the party: some for
teaching their children the Lord’s prayer in English; others for reading
the New Testament in that language, or for speaking against pilgrimages.
To harbor the persecuted preachers, to neglect the fasts of the church,
to declaim against the vices of the clergy, were capital offences. One
Thomas Bilney, a priest, who had embraced the new doctrine, had been
terrified into an abjuration; but was so haunted by remorse, that his
friends dreaded some fatal effects of his despair. At last, his mind
seemed to be more relieved; but this appearing calm proceeded only from
the resolution which he had taken of expiating his past offence by
an open confession of the truth, and by dying a martyr to it. He went
through Norfolk, teaching the people to beware of idolatry, and of
trusting for their salvation either to pilgrimages, or to the cowl of
St. Francis, to the prayers of the saints, or to images. He was soon
seized, tried in the bishop’s court, and condemned as a relapsed
heretic; and the writ was sent down to burn him. When brought to the
stake, he discovered such patience, fortitude, and devotion, that the
spectators were much affected with the horrors of his punishment; and
some mendicant friars who were present, fearing that his martyrdom would
be imputed to them, and make them lose those alms which they received
from the charity of the people, desired him publicly to acquit them[*]
of having any hand in his death. He willingly complied; and by this
meekness gained the more on the sympathy of the people.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 164.
Another person, still more heroic, being brought to the stake for
denying the real presence, seemed almost in a transport of joy; and he
tenderly embraced the fagots which were to be the instruments of his
punishment, as the means of procuring him eternal rest. In short, the
tide turning towards the new doctrine, those severe executions, which,
in another disposition of men’s minds, would have sufficed to suppress
it, now served only to diffuse it the more among the people, and to
inspire them with horror against the unrelenting persecutors.
But though Henry neglected not to punish the Protestant doctrine, which
he deemed heresy, his most formidable enemies, he knew, were the zealous
adherents to the ancient religion, chiefly the monks, who, having their
immediate dependence on the Roman pontiff, apprehended their own ruin
to be the certain consequence of abolishing his authority in England.
Peyto, a friar, preaching before the king, had the assurance to tell
him, “that many lying prophets had deceived him; but he, as a true
Micajah, warned him, that the dogs would lick his blood, as they had
done Ahab’s.”[*] The king took no notice of the insult; but allowed
the preacher to depart in peace. Next Sunday he employed Dr. Corren to
preach before him; who justified the king’s proceedings, and gave Peyto
the appellations of a rebel, a slanderer, a dog, and a traitor. Elston,
another friar of the same house, interrupted the preacher, and told
him that he was one of the lying prophets, who sought to establish by
adultery the succession of the crown; but that he himself would justify
all that Peyto had said. Henry silenced the petulant friar; but showed
no other mark of resentment than ordering Peyto and him to be summoned
before the council, and to be rebuked for their offence.[**] He even
here bore patiently some new instances of their obstinacy and arrogance:
when the earl of Essex, a privy councillor, told them that they deserved
for their offence to be thrown into the Thames, Elston replied that the
road to heaven lay as near by water as by land.[***]
* Strype, vol. i. p. 167.
** Collier, vol. ii. p. 86. Burnet, vol. i. p. 151.
*** Stowe, p. 562
But several monks were detected in a conspiracy, which, as it might have
proved more dangerous to the king, was on its discovery attended with
more fatal consequences to themselves. Elizabeth Barton, of Aldington,
in Kent, commonly called the “holy maid of Kent,” had been subject to
hysterical fits, which threw her body into unusual convulsions; and
having produced an equal disorder in her mind, made her utter strange
sayings, which, as she was scarcely conscious of them during the time,
had soon after entirely escaped her memory. The silly people in the
neighborhood were struck with these appearances, which they imagined to
be supernatural; and Richard Masters, vicar of the parish, a designing
fellow, founded on them a project, from which he hoped to acquire both
profit and consideration. He went to Warham, archbishop of Canterbury,
then alive; and having given him an account of Elizabeth’s revelations,
he so far wrought on that prudent but superstitious prelate, as to
receive orders from him to watch her in her trances, and carefully to
note down all her future sayings. The regard paid her by a person of so
high a rank, soon rendered her still more the object of attention to the
neighborhood; and it was easy for Masters to persuade them, as well as
the maid herself, that her ravings were inspirations of the Holy Ghost.
Knavery, as is usual, soon after succeeding to delusion, she learned to
counterfeit trances and she then uttered, in an extraordinary tone,
such speeches as were dictated to her by her spiritual director. Masters
associated with him Dr. Bocking, a canon of Canterbury; and their design
was to raise the credit of an image of the Virgin which stood in a
chapel belonging to Masters, and to draw to it such pilgrimages as
usually frequented the more famous images and relics. In prosecution of
this design, Elizabeth pretended revelations which directed her to have
recourse to that image for a cure; and being brought before it, in the
presence of a great multitude, she fell anew into convulsions: and
after distorting her limbs and countenance during a competent time, she
affected to have obtained a perfect recovery by the intercession of the
Virgin.[*] This miracle was soon bruited abroad; and the two priests,
finding the imposture to succeed beyond their own expectations, began
to extend their views, and to lay the foundation of more important
enterprises. They taught their penitent to declaim against the new
doctrines, which she denominated heresy; against innovations in
ecclesiastical government; and against the king’s intended divorce from
Catharine. She went so far as to assert, that if he prosecuted that
design, and married another, he should not be a king a month longer, and
should not an hour longer enjoy the favor of the Almighty, but should
die the death of a villain. Many monks throughout England, either from
folly or roguery, or from faction, which is often a complication of
both, entered into the delusion; and one Deering, a friar, wrote a book
of the revelations and prophecies of Elizabeth.[**] Miracles were daily
added to increase the wonder; and the pulpit every where resounded
with accounts of the sanctity and inspirations of the new prophetess.
Messages were carried from her to Queen Catharine, by which that
princess was exhorted to persist in her opposition to the divorce; the
pope’s ambassadors gave encouragement to the popular credulity; and even
Fisher, bishop of Rochester, though a man of sense and learning, was
carried away by an opinion so favorable to the party which he had
espoused.[***]
* Stowe, p. 570. Blanquet’s Epitome of Chronicler.
** Strype, vol. i. p. 181.
*** Collier, vol. ii. p. 87
The king at last began to think the matter worthy of his attention; and
having ordered Elizabeth and her accomplices to be arrested, he brought
them before the star chamber, where they freely, without being put
to the torture made confession of their guilt. The parliament, in the
session held the beginning of this year, passed an act of attainder
against some who were engaged in this treasonable imposture,[*] and
Elizabeth herself, Masters, Bocking, Deering, Rich, Risby, Gold,
suffered for their crime. The bishop of Rochester, Abel, Addison,
Lawrence, and others were condemned for misprision of treason; because
they had not discovered some criminal speeches which they heard from
Elizabeth;[**] and they were thrown into prison. The better to undeceive
the multitude, the forgery of many of the prophetess’s miracles was
detected; and even the scandalous prostitution of her manners was
laid open to the public. Those passions which so naturally insinuate
themselves amidst the warm intimacies maintained by the devotees of
different sexes, had taken place between Elizabeth and her confederates;
and it was found that a door to her dormitory, which was said to have
been miraculously opened, in order to give her access to the chapel, for
the sake of frequent converse with Heaven, had been contrived by Bocking
and Masters for less refined purposes.
* 25 Henry VIII. cap. 12. Burnet, vol. i. p. 149. Hall, fol.
220.
** Godwin’s Annals, p. 53.
{1535.} The detection of this imposture, attended with so many odious
circumstances, both hurt the credit of the ecclesiastics, particularly
the monks, and instigated the king to take vengeance on them. He
suppressed three monasteries of the Observantine friars; and finding
that little clamor was excited by this act of power, he was the more
encouraged to lay his rapacious hands on the remainder. Meanwhile he
exercised punishment on individuals who were obnoxious to him. The
parliament had made it treason to endeavor depriving the king of his
dignity or titles: they had lately added to his other titles, that of
supreme head of the church: it was inferred, that to deny his supremacy
was treason; and many priors and ecclesiastics lost their lives for this
new species of guilt. It was certainly a high instance of tyranny to
punish the mere delivery of a political opinion, especially one that
nowise affected the king’s temporal right, as a capital offence, though
attended with no overt act; and the parliament, in passing this law,
had overlooked all the principles by which a civilized, much more a free
people, should be governed: but the violence of changing so suddenly the
whole system of government, and making it treason to deny what during
many ages it had been heresy to assert, is an event which may appear
somewhat extraordinary. Even the stern, unrelenting mind of Henry was at
first shocked with these sanguinary measures; and he went so far as to
change his garb and dress; pretending sorrow for the necessity by which
he was pushed to such extremities. Still impelled, however, by his
violent temper, and desirous of striking a terror into the whole nation,
he proceeded, by making examples of Fisher and More, to consummate his
lawless tyranny.
John Fisher, bishop of Rochester, was a prelate eminent for learning and
morals, still more than for his ecclesiastical dignities, and for the
high favor which he had long enjoyed with the king; When he was thrown
into prison, on account of his refusing the oath which regarded the
succession, and his concealment of Elizabeth Barton’s treasonable
speeches, he had not only been deprived of all his revenues, but
stripped of his very clothes, and, without consideration of his extreme
age, he was allowed nothing but rags, which scarcely sufficed to
cover his nakedness.[*] In this condition he lay in prison above a
twelvemonth; when the pope, willing to recompense the sufferings of
so faithful an adherent, created him a cardinal though Fisher was so
indifferent about that dignity, that, even if the purple were lying at
his feet, he declared that he would not stoop to take it. This promotion
of a man merely for his opposition to royal authority, roused the
indignation of the king; and he resolved to make the innocent person
feel the effects of his resentment. Fisher was indicted for denying the
king’s supremacy, was tried, condemned, and beheaded.
* Fuller’s Church Hist. book v. p. 203.
The execution of this prelate was intended as a warning to More, whose
compliance, on account of his great authority both abroad and at home,
and his high reputation for learning and virtue, was anxiously desired
by the king. That prince also bore as great personal affection and
regard to More, as his imperious mind, the sport of passions, was
susceptible of towards a man who in any particular opposed his violent
inclinations. But More could never be prevailed on to acknowledge any
opinion so contrary to his principles as that of the king’s supremacy;
and though Henry exacted that compliance from the whole nation, there
was as yet no law obliging any one to take an oath to that purpose.
Rich, the solicitor-general, was sent to confer with More, then a
prisoner, who kept a cautious silence with regard to the supremacy:
he was only inveigled to say, that any question with regard to the law
which established that prerogative was a two-edged sword; if a person
answer one way, it will confound his soul; if another, it will destroy
his body. No more was wanted to found an indictment of high treason
against the prisoner. His silence was called malicious, and made a part
of his crime; and these words, which had casually dropped from him,
were interpreted as a denial of the supremacy.[*] Trials were mere
formalities during this reign: the jury gave sentence against More, who
had long expected this fate, and who needed no preparation to fortify
him against the terrors of death. Not only his constancy, but even his
cheerfulness, nay, his usual facetiousness, never forsook him; and
he made a sacrifice of his life to his integrity, with the same
indifference that he maintained in any ordinary occurrence. When he was
mounting the scaffold, he said to one, “Friend, help me up; and when I
come down again, let me shift for myself.” The executioner asking him
forgiveness, he granted the request, but told him, “You will never get
credit by beheading me, my neck is so short.” Then laying his head on
the block, he bade the executioner stay till he put aside his beard:
“For,” said he, “it never committed treason.” Nothing was wanting to the
glory of this end, except a better cause, more free from weakness and
superstition. But as the man followed his principles and sense of duty,
however misguided, his constancy and integrity are not the less objects
of our admiration. He was beheaded in the fifty-third year of his age.
* More’s Life of Sir Thomas More. Herbert, p. 393
When the execution of Fisher and More was reported at Rome, especially
that of the former, who was invested with the dignity of cardinal, every
one discovered the most violent rage against the king; and numerous
libels were published by the wits and orators of Italy, comparing him
to Caligula, Nero, Domitian, and all the most unrelenting tyrants of
antiquity. Clement VII. had died about six months after he pronounced
sentence against the king; and Paul III., of the name of Farnese, had
succeeded to the papal throne. This pontiff, who while cardinal, had
always favored Henry’s cause, had hoped that personal animosities
being buried with his predecessor, might not be impossible to form
an agreement with England: and the king himself was so desirous of
accommodating matters, that in a negotiation which he entered into with
Francis a little before this time, he required that that monarch should
conciliate a friendship between him and the court of Rome. But Henry
was accustomed to prescribe, not to receive terms; and even while he was
negotiating for peace, his usual violence often carried him to commit
offences which rendered the quarrel totally incurable. The execution of
Fisher was regarded by Paul as so capital an injury, that he immediately
passed censures against the king, citing him and all his adherents to
appear in Rome within ninety days, in order to answer for their crimes:
if they failed, he excommunicated them; deprived the king of his crown;
laid the kingdom under an interdict; declared his issue by Anne Boleyn
illegitimate; dissolved all leagues which any Catholic princes had made
with him; gave his kingdom to any invader; commanded the nobility to
take arms against him; freed his subjects from all oaths of allegiance;
cut off their commerce with foreign states; and declared it lawful for
any one to seize them, to make slaves of their persons, and to convert
their effects to his own use.[*] But though these censures were passed,
they were not at that time openly denounced; the pope delayed the
publication till he should find an agreement with England entirely
desperate; and till the emperor, who was at that time hard pressed
by the Turks and the Protestant princes in Germany, should be in a
condition to carry the sentence into execution.
The king knew that he might expect any injury which it should be in
Charles’s power to inflict; and he therefore made it the chief object
of his policy to incapacitate that monarch from wreaking his resentment
upon him.[**]
* Sanders, p. 148.
** Herbert, p. 350, 351.
He renewed his friendship with Francis, and opened negotiations for
marrying his infant daughter, Elizabeth, with the duke of Angoulême,
third son of Francis. These two monarchs also made advances to the
princes of the Protestant league in Germany, ever jealous of the
emperor’s ambition; and Henry, besides remitting them some money, sent
Fox, bishop of Hereford, as Francis did Bellay, lord of Langley, to
treat with them. But during the first fervors of the reformation,
an agreement in theological tenets was held, as well as a union of
interests, to be essential to a good correspondence among states; and
though both Francis and Henry flattered the German princes with hopes of
their embracing the confession of Augsbourg, it was looked upon as a
bad symptom of their sincerity, that they exercised such extreme
rigor against all preachers of the reformation in their respective
dominions.[*] Henry carried the feint so far, that, while he thought
himself the first theologian in the world, he yet invited over
Melaricthon, Bucer, Sturmius, Draco, and other German divines, that
they might confer with him, and instruct him in the foundation of their
tenets. These theologians were now of great importance in the world; and
no poet or philosopher, even in ancient Greece, where they were treated
with most respect, had ever reached equal applause and admiration with
those wretched composers of metaphysical polemics. The German princes
told the king, that they could not spare their divines; and as Henry
had no hopes of agreement with such zealous disputants, and knew that in
Germany the followers of Luther would not associate with the disciples
of Zuinglius, because, though they agreed in every thing else, they
differed in some minute particulars with regard to the eucharist, he was
the more indifferent on account of this refusal. He could also foresee,
that even while the league of Smalcalde did not act in concert with him,
they would always be carried by their interests to oppose the emperor:
and the hatred between Francis and that monarch was so inveterate,
that he deemed himself sure of a sincere ally in one or other of these
potentates.
* Sleidan, lib. 10.
{1536.} During these negotiations, an incident happened in England,
which promised a more amicable conclusion of those disputes, and seemed
even to open the way for a reconciliation between Henry and Charles.
Queen Catharine was seized with a lingering illness, which at last
brought her to her grave; she died at Kimbolton, in the county of
Huntingdon, in the fiftieth year of her age. A little before she
expired, she wrote a very tender letter to the king, in which she gave
him the appellation of “her most dear lord, king, and husband.” She told
him that as the hour of her death was now approaching, she laid hold
of this last opportunity to inculcate on him the importance of his
religious duty, and the comparative emptiness of all human grandeur and
enjoyment; that though his fondness towards these perishable advantages
had thrown her into many calamities, as well as created to himself
much trouble, she yet forgave him all past injuries, and hoped that his
pardon would be ratified in Heaven; and that she had no other request
to make, than to recommend to him his daughter, the sole pledge of
their loves; and to crave his protection for her maids and servants. She
concluded with these words: “I make this vow, that mine eyes desire
you above all things.”[*] The king was touched, even to the shedding
of tears, by this last tender proof of Catharine’s affection; but Queen
Anne is said to have expressed her joy for the death of a rival beyond
what decency or humanity could permit.[**]
The emperor thought that, as the demise of his aunt had removed all
foundation of personal animosity between him and Henry, it might not now
be impossible to detach him from the alliance of France, and to renew
his own confederacy with England, from which he had formerly reaped so
much advantage. He sent Henry proposals for a return to ancient amity,
upon these conditions:[***] that he should be reconciled to the see of
Rome, that he should assist him in his war with the Turk, and that he
should take part with him against Francis, who now threatened the duchy
of Milan. The king replied, that he was willing to be on good terms
with the emperor, provided that prince would acknowledge that the former
breach of friendship came entirely from himself: as to the conditions
proposed, the proceedings against the bishop of Rome were so just, and
so fully ratified by the parliament of England, that they could not
now be revoked; when Christian princes should have settled peace among
themselves, he would not fail to exert that vigor which became him,
against the enemies of the faith; and after amity with the emperor
was once fully restored, he should then be in a situation, as a common
friend both to him and Francis, either to mediate an agreement between
them, or to assist the injured party.
* Herbert, p. 403.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 192
*** Du Bellai, liv. v. Herbert. Burnet, vol. iii. in Coll.
No· 60.
What rendered Henry more indifferent to the advances made by the emperor
was, both his experience of the usual duplicity and insincerity of
that monarch, and the intelligence which he received of the present
transactions in Europe. Francis Sforza, duke of Milan, had died without
issue; and the emperor maintained that the duchy, being a fief of the
empire, was devolved to him, as head of the Germanic body: not to give
umbrage, however, to the states of Italy, he professed his intention of
bestowing that principality on some prince who should be obnoxious to no
party, and he even made offer of it to the duke of Angoulême, third
son of Francis. The French monarch, who pretended that his own right to
Milan was now revived upon Sforza’s death, was content to substitute his
second son, the duke of Orleans, in his place; and the emperor pretended
to close with this proposal. But his sole intention in that liberal
concession was to gain time till he should put himself in a warlike
posture, and be able to carry an invasion into Francis’s dominions. The
ancient enmity between these, princes broke out anew in bravadoes, and
in personal insults on each other, ill becoming persons of their rank,
and still less suitable to men of such unquestioned bravery. Charles
soon after invaded Provence in person, with an army of fifty thousand
men; but met with no success. His army perished with sickness, fatigue,
famine, and other disasters; and he was obliged to raise the siege of
Marseilles, and retire into Italy with the broken remains of his forces.
An army of imperialists, near thirty thousand strong, which invaded
France on the side of the Netherlands, and laid siege to Peronne, made
no greater progress, but retired upon the approach of a French army. And
Henry had thus the satisfaction to find, both that his ally Francis was
likely to support himself without foreign assistance, and that his own
tranquillity was fully insured by these violent wars and animosities on
the continent.
If any inquietude remained with the English court, it was solely
occasioned by the state of affairs in Scotland. James, hearing of the
dangerous situation of his ally Francis, generously levied some forces;
and embarking them on board vessels which he had hired for that purpose,
landed them safely in France. He even went over in person; and making
haste to join the camp of the French king, which then lay in Provence,
and to partake of his danger, he met that prince at Lyons, who, having
repulsed the emperor, was now returning to his capital. Recommended by
so agreeable and seasonable an instance of friendship, the king of Scots
paid his addresses to Magdalen, daughter of the French monarch; and
this prince had no other objection to the match than what arose from the
infirm state of his daughter’s health, which seemed to threaten her
with an approaching end. But James having gained the affections of the
princess, and obtained her consent, the father would no longer oppose
the united desires of his daughter and his friend: they were accordingly
married, and soon after set sail for Scotland, where the young queen, as
was foreseen, died in a little time after her arrival. Francis, however,
was afraid lest his ally Henry, whom he likewise looked on as his
friend, and who lived with him on a more cordial footing than is usual
among great princes, should be displeased that this close confederacy
between France and Scotland was concluded without his participation. He
therefore despatched Pommeraye to London, in order to apologize for this
measure; but Henry, with his usual openness and freedom, expressed such
displeasure, that he refused even to confer with the ambassador; and
Francis was apprehensive of a rupture with a prince who regulated
his measures more by humor and passion than by the rules of political
prudence. But the king was so fettered by the opposition in which he
was engaged against the pope and the emperor, that he pursued no further
this disgust against Francis; and in the end, every thing remained in
tranquillity both on the side of France and of Scotland.
The domestic peace of England seemed to be exposed to more hazard by the
violent innovations in religion; and it may be affirmed that, in this
dangerous conjuncture, nothing insured public tranquillity so much as
the decisive authority acquired by the king, and his great ascendant
over all his subjects. Not only the devotion paid to the crown was
profound during that age: the personal respect inspired by Henry was
considerable; and even the terrors with which he overawed every one,
were not attended with any considerable degree of hatred. His frankness,
his sincerity, his magnificence, his generosity, were virtues which
counterbalanced his violence, cruelty, and impetuosity. And the
important rank which his vigor, more than his address, acquired him in
all foreign negotiations, flattered the vanity of Englishmen, and made
them the more willingly endure those domestic hardships to which they
were exposed. The king, conscious of his advantages, was now proceeding
to the most dangerous exercise of his authority; and after paving the
way for that measure by several preparatory expedients, he was at last
determined to suppress the monasteries, and to put himself in possession
of their ample revenues.
The great increase of monasteries, if matters be considered merely in
a political light, will appear the radical inconvenience of the
Catholic religion; and every other disadvantage attending that
communion seems to have an inseparable connection with these religious
institutions. Papal usurpations, the tyranny of the inquisition, the
multiplicity of holidays; all these fetters on liberty and industry were
ultimately derived from the authority and insinuation of monks, whose
habitations, being established every where, proved so many seminaries
of superstition and of folly. This order of men was extremely enraged
against Henry, and regarded the abolition of the papal authority in
England as the removal of the sole protection which they enjoyed against
the rapacity of the crown and of the courtiers. They were now subjected
to the king’s visitation; the supposed sacredness of their bulls from
Rome was rejected; the progress of the reformation abroad, which had
every where been attended with the abolition of the monastic orders,
gave them reason to apprehend like consequences in England; and though
the king still maintained the doctrine of purgatory, to which most of
the convents owed their origin and support, it was foreseen, that, in
the progress of the contest, he would every day be led to depart
wider from ancient institutions, and be drawn nearer the tenets of the
reformers, with whom his political interests naturally induced him to
unite. Moved by these considerations, the friars employed all their
influence to inflame the people against the king’s government; and
Henry, finding their safety irreconcilable with his own, was determined
to seize the present opportunity, and utterly destroy his declared
enemies.
Cromwell, secretary of state, had been appointed vicar-general, or
vicegerent, a new office, by which the king’s supremacy, or the absolute
uncontrollable power assumed over the church, was delegated to him. He
employed Layton, London, Price, Gage, Petre, Bellasis, and others, as
commissioners who carried on every where a rigorous inquiry with
regard to the conduct and deportment of all the friars. During times of
faction, especially of the religious kind, no equity is to be expected
from adversaries; and as it was known, that the king’s intention in this
visitation was to find a pretence for abolishing monasteries, we may
naturally conclude, that the reports of the commissioners are very
little to be relied on. Friars were encouraged to bring in informations
against their brethren; the slightest evidence was credited; and even
the calumnies spread abroad by the friends of the reformation, were
regarded as grounds of proof. Monstrous disorders are therefore said to
have been found in many of the religious houses; whole convents of women
abandoned to lewdness; signs of abortions procured, of infants murdered,
of unnatural lusts between persons of the same sex. It is indeed
probable, that the blind submission of the people, during those ages,
would render the friars and nuns more unguarded and more dissolute
than they are in any Roman Catholic country at present; but still the
reproaches, which it is safest to credit, are such as point at vices
naturally connected with the very institution of convents, and with
the monastic life. The cruel and inveterate factions and quarrels,
therefore, which the commissioners mentioned, are very credible among
men, who, being confined together within the same walls, never can
forget their mutual animosities, and who, being cut off from all the
most endearing connections of nature, are commonly cursed with hearts
more selfish, and tempers more unrelenting, than fall to the share
of other men. The pious frauds practised to increase the devotion
and liberality of the people, may be regarded as certain, in an order
founded on illusions, lies, and superstition. The supine idleness also,
and its attendant, profound ignorance, with which the convents were
reproached, admit of no question; and though monks were the true
preservers, as well as inventors, of the dreaming and captious
philosophy of the schools, no manly or elegant knowledge could be
expected among men, whose lives, condemned to a tedious uniformity,
and deprived of all emulation, afforded nothing to raise the mind or
cultivate the genius.
Some few monasteries, terrified with this rigorous inquisition carried
on by Cromwell and his commissioners, surrendered their revenues into
the king’s hands; and the monks received small pensions as the reward of
their obsequiousness. Orders were given to dismiss such nuns and
friars as were below four and twenty, whose vows were, on that account,
supposed not to be binding. The doors of the convents were opened, even
to such as were above that age; and every one recovered his liberty who
desired it. But as all these expedients did not fully answer the
king’s purpose, he had recourse to his usual instrument of power, the
parliament; and in order to prepare men for the innovations projected,
the report of the visitors was published, and a general horror was
endeavored to be excited n the nation against institutions, which, to
their ancestors had been the objects of the most profound veneration.
The king, though determined utterly to abolish the monastic order,
resolved to proceed gradually in this great work; and he gave directions
to the parliament to go no further, at present, than to suppress the
lesser monasteries, which possessed revenues below two hundred pounds a
year.[*] These were found to be the most corrupted, as lying less under
the restraint of shame, and being exposed to less scrutiny;[**] and it
was deemed safest to begin with them, and thereby prepare the way
for the greater innovations projected. By this act three hundred and
seventy-six monasteries were suppressed, and their revenues, amounting
to thirty-two thousand pounds a year, were granted to the king; besides
their goods, chattels, and plate, computed at a hundred thousand pounds
more.[***] It does not appear that any opposition was made to this
important law: so absolute was Henry’s authority[****] A court, called
the court of augmentation of the king’s revenue, was erected for the
management of these funds. The people naturally concluded from this
circumstance, that Henry intended to proceed in despoiling the church of
her patrimony.[v]
The act formerly passed, empowering the king to name thirty-two
commissioners for framing a body of canon law, was renewed; but the
project was never carried into execution. Henry thought, that the
present perplexity of that law increased his authority, and kept the
clergy in still greater dependence.
Further progress was made in completing the union of Wales with England:
the separate jurisdictions of several great lords, or marchers, as
they were called, which obstructed the course of justice in Wales, and
encouraged robbery and pillaging, were abolished; and the authority of
the king’s courts was extended every where. Some jurisdictions of a like
nature in England were also abolished this session.
* 27 Henry VIII. c. 28.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 193.
*** It is pretended, (see Holingshed, p. 939,) that ten
thousand monks wore turned out on the dissolution of the
lesser monasteries. If so, most of them must have been
mendicants; for the revenue could not have supported near
that number. The mendicants, no doubt, still continued their
former profession.
**** 27 Henry VIII. c. 27.
v 27 Henry VIII. c. 4
The commons, sensible that they had gained nothing by opposing the
king’s will when he formerly endeavored to secure the profits of
wardships and liveries, were now contented to frame a law,[*] such as he
dictated to them. It was enacted, that the possession of land shall be
adjudged to be in those who have the use of it, not in those to whom it
is transferred in trust.
* 27 Henry VIII. c. 10.
After all these laws were passed, the king dissolved the parliament; a
parliament memorable, not only for the great and important innovations
which it introduced, but also for the long time it had sitten, and the
frequent prorogations which it had undergone. Henry had found it so
obsequious to his will, that he did not choose, during those religious
ferments, to hazard a new election; and he continued the same parliament
above six years: a practice at that time unusual in England.
The convocation which sat during this session was engaged in a very
important work, the deliberating on the new translation which was
projected of the Scriptures. The translation given by Tindal, though
corrected by himself in a new edition, was still complained of by the
clergy as inaccurate and unfaithful; and it was now proposed to them,
that they should themselves publish a translation which would not be
liable to those objections.
The friends of the reformation asserted, that nothing could be more
absurd than to conceal, in an unknown tongue, the word of God itself,
and thus to counteract the will of Heaven, which, for the purpose
of universal salvation, had published that salutary doctrine to all
nations: that if this practice were not very absurd, the artifice at
least was very gross, and proved a consciousness, that the glosses and
traditions of the clergy stood in direct opposition to the original
text, dictated by supreme intelligence: that it was now necessary for
the people, so long abused by interested pretensions, to see with their
own eyes, and to examine whether the claims of the ecclesiastics were
founded on that charter which was on all hands acknowledged to be
derived from Heaven: and that, as a spirit of research and curiosity
was happily revived, and men were now obliged to make a choice among
the contending doctrines of different sects, the proper materials for
decision, and above all, the Holy Scriptures, should be set before them;
and the revealed will of God, which the change of language had somewhat
obscured, be again, by their means, revealed to mankind.
The favorers of the ancient religion maintained, on the other hand, that
the pretence of making the people see with their own eyes was a mere
cheat, and was itself a very gross artifice, by which the new preachers
hoped to obtain the guidance of them, and to seduce them from those
pastors whom the laws, whom ancient establishments, whom Heaven itself,
had appointed for their spiritual direction: that the people were by
their ignorance, their stupidity, their necessary avocations, totally
unqualified to choose their own principles; and it was a mockery to set
materials before them, of which they could not possibly make any proper
use: that even in the affairs of common life, and in their temporal
concerns, which lay more within the compass of human reason, the laws
had in a great measure deprived them of the right of private judgment,
and had, happily for their own and the public interest, regulated their
conduct and behavior: that theological questions were placed far beyond
the sphere of vulgar comprehension; and ecclesiastics themselves, though
assisted by all the advantages of education, erudition, and an assiduous
study of the science, could not be fully assured of a just decision,
except by the promise made them in Scripture, that God would be ever
present with his church, and that the gates of hell should not prevail
against her: that the gross errors adopted by the wisest heathens,
proved how unfit men were to grope their own way through this profound
darkness; nor would the Scriptures, if trusted to every man’s judgment,
be able to remedy; on the contrary, they would much augment, those fatal
illusions: that sacred writ itself was involved in so much obscurity,
gave rise to so many difficulties, contained so many appearing
contradictions, that it was the most dangerous weapon that could be
intrusted into the hands of the ignorant and giddy multitude: that the
poetical style in which a great part of it was composed, at the same
time that it occasioned uncertainty in the sense, by its multiplied
tropes and figures, was sufficient to kindle the zeal of fanaticism,
and thereby throw civil society into the most furious combustion: that a
thousand sects must arise, which would pretend, each of them, to derive
its tenets from the Scripture; and would be able, by specious arguments,
or even without specious arguments, to seduce silly women and ignorant
mechanics into a belief of the most monstrous principles: and that if
ever this disorder, dangerous to the magistrate himself, received a
remedy, it must be from the tacit acquiescence of the people in some
new authority; and it was evidently better, without further contest or
inquiry, to adhere peaceably to ancient, and therefore the more secure
establishments.
These latter arguments, being more agreeable to ecclesiastical
governments, would probably have prevailed in the convocation, had it
not been for the authority of Cranmer, Latimer, and some other bishops,
who were supposed to speak the king’s sense of the matter. A vote was
passed for publishing a new translation of the Scriptures; and in three
years’ time the work was finished, and printed at Paris. This was deemed
a great point gained by the reformers, and a considerable advancement
of their cause. Further progress was soon expected, after such important
successes.
But while the retainers to the new religion were exulting in their
prosperity, they met with a mortification which seemed to blast all
their hopes: their patroness, Anne Boleyn, possessed no longer the
king’s favor; and soon after lost her life by the rage of that furious
monarch. Henry had persevered in his love to this lady during six years
that his prosecution of the divorce lasted; and the more obstacles he
met with to the gratification of his passion, the more determined
zeal did he exert in pursuing his purpose. But the affection which had
subsisted, and still increased under difficulties, had not long attained
secure possession of its object, when it languished from satiety; and
the king’s heart was apparently estranged from his consort. Anne’s
enemies soon perceived the fatal change; and they were forward to widen
the breach, when they found that they incurred no danger by interposing
in those delicate concerns. She had been delivered of a dead son; and
Henry’s extreme fondness for male issue being thus for the present
disappointed, his temper, equally violent and superstitious, was
disposed to make the innocent mother answerable for the misfortune.[*]
But the chief means which Anne’s enemies employed to inflame the king
against her, was his jealousy.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 196.
Anne, though she appears to have been entirely innocent, and even
virtuous in her conduct, had a certain gayety, if not levity of
character which threw her off her guard, and made her less circumspect
than her situation required. Her education in France rendered her the
more prone to those freedoms; and it was with difficulty she conformed
herself to that strict ceremonial practised in the court of England.
More vain than haughty, she was pleased to see the influence of
her beauty on all around her; and she indulged herself in an easy
familiarity with persons who were formerly her equals, and who might
then have pretended to her friendship and good graces. Henry’s dignity
was offended with these popular manners; and though the lover had been
entirely blind, the husband possessed but too quick discernment
and penetration. III instruments interposed, and put a malignant
interpretation on the harmless liberties of the queen: the viscountess
of Rocheford, in particular, who was married to the queen’s brother, but
who lived on bad terms with her sister-in-law, insinuated the most cruel
suspicions into the king’s mind; and as she was a woman of a profligate
character, she paid no regard either to truth or humanity in those
calumnies which she suggested. She pretended that her own husband was
engaged in a criminal correspondence with his sister; and not content
with this imputation, she poisoned every action of the queen’s, and
represented each instance of favor, which she conferred on any one, as
a token of affection. Henry Norris, groom of the stole, Weston and
Brereton, gentlemen of the king’s chamber, together with Mark Smeton,
groom of the chamber, were observed to possess much of the queen’s
friendship; and they served her with a zeal and attachment, which,
though chiefly derived from gratitude, might not improbably be seasoned
with some mixture of tenderness for so amiable a princess. The king’s
jealousy laid hold of the slightest circumstance; and finding no
particular object on which it could fasten, it vented itself equally on
every one that came within the verge of its fury.
Had Henry’s jealousy been derived from love, though it might on a sudden
have proceeded to the most violent extremities, it would have been
subject to many remorses and contrarieties; and might at last have
served only to augment that affection on which it was founded. But it
was a more stern jealousy, fostered entirely by pride: his love was
transferred to another object. Jane, daughter of Sir John Seymour, and
maid of honor to the queen, a young lady of singular beauty and merit,
had obtained an entire ascendant over him; and he was determined to
sacrifice every thing to the gratification of this new appetite. Unlike
to most monarchs, who judge lightly of the crime of gallantry, and who
deem the young damsels of their court rather honored than disgraced by
their passion, he seldom thought of any other attachment than that
of marriage; and in order to attain this end, he underwent more
difficulties, and committed greater crimes, than those which he sought
to avoid by forming that legal connection And having thus entertained
the design of raising his new mistress to his bed and throne, he more
willingly hearkened to every suggestion which threw any imputation of
guilt on the unfortunate Anne Boleyn.
The king’s jealousy first appeared openly in a tilting at Greenwich,
where the queen happened to drop her handkerchief, an incident probably
casual, but interpreted by him as an instance of gallantry to some of
her paramours.[*] He immediately retired from the place; sent orders
to confine her to her chamber; arrested Norris, Brereton, Weston, and
Smeton, together with her brother Rocheford; and threw them into prison.
The queen, astonished at these instances of his fury, thought that he
meant only to try her; but finding him in earnest, she reflected on
his obstinate, unrelenting spirit, and she prepared herself for that
melancholy doom which was awaiting her. Next day, she was sent to
the Tower; and on her way thither, she was informed of her supposed
offences, of which she had hitherto been ignorant: she made earnest
protestations of her innocence; and when she entered the prison, she
fell on her knees, and prayed God so to help her, as she was not guilty
of the crime imputed to her. Her surprise and confusion threw her into
hysterical disorders; and in that situation she thought that the
best proof of her innocence was to make an entire confession; and she
revealed some indiscretions and levities, which her simplicity had
equally betrayed her to commit and to avow. She owned that she had once
rallied Norris on his delaying his marriage, and had told him that
he probably expected her when she should be a widow: she had reproved
Weston, she said, for his affection to a kinswoman of hers, and his
indifference towards his wife; but he told her that she had mistaken
the object of his affection, for it was herself; upon which she defied
him.[*] She affirmed that Smeton had never been in her chamber but
twice, when he played on the harpsichord; but she acknowledged that
he had once had the boldness to tell her that a look sufficed him. The
king, instead of being satisfied with the candor and sincerity of her
confession, regarded these indiscretions only as preludes to greater and
more criminal intimacies.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 198.
** Strype, vol. i. p. 281.
Of all those multitudes whom the beneficence of the queen’s tamper had
obliged during her prosperous fortune, no one durst interpose between
her and the king’s fury; and the person whose advancement every breath
had favored, and every countenance had smiled upon, was now left
neglected and abandoned. Even her uncle, the duke of Norfolk, preferring
the connections of party to the ties of blood, was become her most
dangerous enemy; and all the retainers to the Catholic religion hoped
that her death would terminate the king’s quarrel with Rome, and leave
him again to his natural and early bent, which had inclined him to
maintain the most intimate union with the apostolic see. Cranmer alone,
of all the queen’s adherents, still retained his friendship for her;
and, as far as the king’s impetuosity permitted him, he endeavored to
moderate the violent prejudices entertained against her.
The queen herself wrote Henry a letter from the Tower, full of the most
tender expostulations and of the warmest protestations of innocence.[*]
[10] This letter had no influence on the unrelenting mind of Henry, who
was determined to pave the way for his new marriage by the death of Anne
Boleyn. Morris, Weston, Brereton, and Smeton, were tried; but no legal
evidence was produced against them. The chief proof of their guilt
consisted in a hearsay from one Lady Wingfield, who was dead. Smeton was
prevailed on, by the vain hopes of life, to confess a criminal
correspondence with the queen;[**] but even her enemies expected little
advantage from this confession; for they never dared to confront him
with her; and he was immediately executed; as were also Brereton and
Weston. Norris had been much in the king’s favor, and an offer of life
was made him, if he would confess his crime and accuse the queen; but he
generously rejected the proposal, and said that in his conscience he
believed her entirely guiltless: but for his part, he could accuse her
of nothing, and he would rather die a thousand deaths than calumniate an
innocent person.
* See note K, at the end of the volume.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 202.
The queen and her brother were tried by a jury of peers consisting of
the duke of Suffolk, the marquis of Exeter, the earl of Arundel, and
twenty-three more: their uncle, the duke of Norfolk, presided as high
steward. Upon what proof or pretence the crime of incest was imputed to
them, is unknown: the chief evidence, it is said, amounted to no
more than that Rocheford had been seen to lean on her bed before some
company. Part of the charge against her was that she had affirmed to her
minions, that the king never had her heart; and had said to each of them
apart, that she loved him better than any person whatsoever; “which was
to the slander of the issue begotten between the king and her.” By this
strained interpretation, her guilt was brought under the statute of the
twenty-fifth of this reign; in which it was declared criminal to
throw any slander upon the king, queen, or their issue. Such palpable
absurdities were at that time admitted; and they were regarded by the
peers of England as a sufficient reason for sacrificing an innocent
queen to the cruelty of their tyrant. Though unassisted by counsel, she
defended herself with presence of mind; and the spectators could not
forbear pronouncing her entirely innocent. Judgment, however, was given
by the court, both against the queen and Lord Rocheford; and her verdict
contained, that she should be burned or beheaded at the king’s pleasure.
When this dreadful sentence was pronounced, she was not terrified, but
lifting up her hands to heaven, said, “O Father! O Creator! thou who art
the way, the truth, and the life, thou knowest that I have not deserved
this fate;” and then turning to the judges, made the most pathetic
declarations of her innocence.
Henry, not satisfied with this cruel vengeance, was resolved entirely
to annul his marriage with Anne Boleyn, and to declare her issue
illegitimate: he recalled to his memory, that a little after her
appearance in the English court, some attachment had been acknowledged
between her and the earl of Northumberland, then Lord Piercy; and he
now questioned that nobleman with regard to these engagements.
Northumberland took an oath before the two archbishops, that no contract
or promise of marriage had ever passed between them: he received the
sacrament upon it, before the duke of Norfolk and others of the privy
council; and this solemn act he accompanied with the most solemn
protestations of veracity.[*] The queen, however, was shaken by menaces
of executing the sentence against her in its greatest rigor, and was
prevailed on to confess in court some lawful impediment to her marriage
with the king.[**] The afflicted primate, who sat as judge, thought
himself obliged by this confession to pronounce the marriage null and
invalid. Henry, in the transports of his fury, did not perceive that
his proceedings were totally inconsistent, and that if her marriage
were from the beginning invalid, she could not possibly be guilty of
adultery.
* Herbert, p. 384*[**missing period]
** Heylin, p. 94.
The queen now prepared for suffering the death to which she was
sentenced. She sent her last message to the king, and acknowledged
the obligations which she owed him, in thus uniformly continuing his
endeavors for her advancement: from a private gentlewoman, she said, he
had first made her a marchioness, then a queen, and now, since he could
raise her no higher in this world, he was sending her to be a saint
in heaven. She then renewed the protestations of her innocence, and
recommended her daughter to his care. Before the lieutenant of the
Tower, and all who approached her, she made the like declarations;
and continued to behave herself with her usual serenity, and even with
cheerfulness. “The executioner,” she said to the lieutenant, “is, I
hear, very expert; and my neck is very slender:” upon which she grasped
it in her hand, and smiled. When brought, however, to the scaffold,
she softened her tone a little with regard to her protestations
of innocence. She probably reflected, that the obstinacy of Queen
Catharine, and her opposition to the king’s will, had much alienated him
from the lady Mary: her own maternal concern, therefore, for Elizabeth
prevailed in these last moments over that indignation which the unjust
sentence by which she suffered naturally excited in her. She said that
she was come to die, as she was sentenced, by the law: she would accuse
none, nor say any thing of the ground upon which she was judged. She
prayed heartily for the king; called him a most merciful and gentle
prince; and acknowledged that he had always been to her a good and
gracious sovereign; and if any one should think proper to canvass her
cause, she desired him to judge the best.[*] She was beheaded by the
executioner of Calais, who was sent for as more expert than any
in England. Her body was negligently thrown into a common chest of
elm-tree, made to hold arrows, and was buried in the Tower.
* Burnet. vol. i. p. 205.
The innocence of this unfortunate queen cannot reasonably be called in
question. Henry himself, in the violence of his rage, knew not whom to
accuse as her lover; and though he imputed guilt to her brother, and
four persons more, he was able to bring proof against none of them. The
whole tenor of her conduct forbids us to ascribe to her an abandoned
character, such as is implied in the king’s accusation: had she been so
lost to all prudence and sense of shame, she must have exposed herself
to detection, and afforded her enemies some evidence against her. But
the king made the most effectual apology for her, by marrying Jane
Seymour the very day after her execution.[*] His impatience to gratify
this new passion caused him to forgot all regard to decency; and his
cruel heart was not softened a moment by the bloody catastrophe of a
person who had so long been the object of his most tender affections.
The lady Mary thought the death of her step-mother a proper opportunity
for reconciling herself to the king, who, besides other causes of
disgust, had been offended with her on account of the part which she had
taken in her mother’s quarrel. Her advances were not at first received;
and Henry exacted from her some further proofs of submission and
obedience: he required this young princess, then about twenty years of
age, to adopt his theological tenets; to acknowledge his supremacy; to
renounce the pope; and to own her mother’s marriage to be unlawful and
incestuous. These points were of hard digestion with the princess; but
after some delays, and even refusals, she was at last prevailed on to
write a letter to her father,[**] containing her assent to the
articles required of her; upon which she was received into favor. But
notwithstanding the return of the king’s affection to the issue of his
first marriage, he divested not himself of kindness towards the lady
Elizabeth; and the new queen, who was blessed with a singular sweetness
of disposition, discovered strong proofs of attachment towards her.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 297.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 207. Strype, vol. i. p. 285.
The trial and conviction of Queen Anne, and the subsequent events, made
it necessary for the king to summon a new parliament; and he here,
in his speech, made a merit to his people, that, notwithstanding the
misfortunes attending his two former marriages, he had been induced for
their good to venture on a third. The speaker received this profession
with suitable gratitude; and he took thence occasion to praise the
king for his wonderful gifts of grace and nature: he compared him, for
justice and prudence, to Solomon; for strength and fortitude, to Samson;
and for beauty and comeliness, to Absalom. The king very humbly replied,
by the mouth cf the chancellor, that he disavowed these praises; since,
if he were really possessed of such endowments, they were the gift
of Almighty God only. Henry found that the parliament was no less
submissive in deeds than complaisant in their expressions, and that
they would go the same lengths as the former in gratifying even his most
lawless passions. His divorce from Anne Boleyn was ratified;[*] that
queen and all her accomplices were attainted; the issue of both his
former marriages were declared illegitimate, and it was even made
treason to assert the legitimacy of either of them; to throw any slander
upon the present king, queen, or their issue, was subjected to the same
penalty; the crown was settled on the king’s issue by Jane Seymour, or
any subsequent wife; and in case he should die without children, he was
empowered, by his will or letters patent, to dispose of the crown; an
enormous authority, especially when intrusted to a prince so violent and
capricious in his humor. Whoever, being required, refused to answer upon
oath to any article of this act of settlement, was declared to be guilty
of treason; and by this clause a species of political inquisition
was established in the kingdom, as well as the accusations of treason
multiplied to an unreasonable degree. The king was also empowered to
confer on any one, by his will or letters patent, any castles, honors,
liberties, or franchises; words which might have been extended to the
dismembering of the kingdom, by the erection of principalities and
independent jurisdictions. It was also, by another act, made treason
to marry, without the king’s consent, any princess related in the first
degree to the crown. This act was occasioned by the discovery of a
design formed by Thomas Howard, brother of the duke of Norfolk, to
espouse the lady Margaret Douglas, niece to the king, by his sister the
queen of Scots and the earl of Angus. Howard, as well as the young lady,
was committed to the Tower. She recovered her liberty soon after; but he
died in confinement. An act of attainder passed against him this session
of parliament.
* The parliament, in annulling the king’s marriage with Anne
Boleyn, gives this as a reason, “For that his highness had
chosen to wife the excellent and virtuous Lady Jane, who,
for her convenient years, excellent beauty, and pureness of
flesh and blood, would be apt, God willing, to conceive
issue by his highness.”
Another accession was likewise gained to the authority of the crown;
the king or any of his successors was empowered to repeal or annul, by
letters patent, whatever act of parliament had been passed before he was
four and twenty years of age. Whoever maintained the authority of the
bishop of Rome by word or writ, or endeavored in any manner to restore
it in England, was subjected to the penalty of a premunire that is, his
goods were forfeited, and he was put out of the protection of law.
And any person who possessed any office, ecclesiastical or civil,
or received any grant or charter from the crown, and yet refused to
renounce the pope by oath, was declared to be guilty of treason. The
renunciation prescribed runs in the style of, “So help me God, all
saints, and the holy evangelists.”[*] The pope, hearing of Anne
Boleyn’s disgrace and death, had hoped that the door was opened to a
reconciliation, and had been making some advances to Henry: but this was
the reception he met with. Henry was now become indifferent with regard
to papal censures; and finding a great increase of authority, as well as
of revenue, to accrue from his quarrel with Rome, he was determined to
persevere in his present measures. This parliament also, even more than
any foregoing, convinced him how much he commanded the respect of
his subjects, and what confidence he might repose in them. Though
the elections had been made on a sudden, without any preparation or
intrigue, the members discovered an unlimited attachment to his person
and government.[**]
* 28 Henry VIII. c. 10.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 213.
The extreme complaisance of the convocation, which sat at the same
time with the parliament, encouraged him in his resolution of breaking
entirely with the court of Rome. There was secretly a great division
of sentiments in the minds of this assembly; and as the zeal of the
reformers had been augmented by some late successes, the resentment of
the Catholics was no less excited by their fears and losses: but the
authority of the king kept every one submissive and silent; and the new
assumed prerogative, the supremacy, with whose limits no one was fully
acquainted, restrained even the most furious movements of theological
rancor. Cromwell presided as vicar-general; and though the Catholic
party expected, that on the fall of Queen Anne, his authority would
receive a great shock, they were surprised to find him still maintain
the same credit as before. With the vicar-general concurred Cranmer the
primate, Latimer, bishop of Worcester, Shaxton of Salisbury, Hilsey of
Rochester, Fox of Hereford, Barlow of St. David’s. The opposite faction
was headed by Lee, archbishop of York, Stokesley, bishop of London,
Tonstal of Durham, Gardner of Winchester, Longland of Lincoln, Sherborne
of Chichester, Nix of Norwich, and Kite of Carlisle. The former party,
by their opposition to the pope, seconded the king’s ambition and love
of power: the latter party, by maintaining the ancient theological
tenets, were more conformable to his speculative principles: and both of
them had alternately the advantage of gaining on his humor, by which he
was more governed than by either of these motives.
The church in general was averse to the reformation; and the lower house
of convocation framed a list of opinions, in the whole sixty-seven,
which they pronounced erroneous, and which was a collection of
principles, some held by the ancient Lollards, others by the modern
Protestants, or Gospellers, as they were sometimes called. These
opinions they sent to the upper house to be censured; but in the
preamble of their representation, they discovered the servile spirit by
which they were governed. They said, “that they intended not to do
or speak any thing which might be unpleasant to the king, whom they
acknowledged their supreme head, and whose commands they were resolved
to obey; renouncing the pope’s usurped authority, with all his laws and
inventions, now extinguished and abolished; and addicting themselves to
Almighty God and his laws, and unto the king and the laws made within
this kingdom.”[*]
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 119.
The convocation came at last, after some debate, to decide articles of
faith; and their tenets were of as motley a kind as the assembly itself,
or rather as the king’s system of theology, by which they were resolved
entirely to square their principles. They determined the standard of
faith to consist in the Scriptures and the three creeds, the Apostolic,
Nicene, and Athanasian; and this article was a signal victory to the
reformers: auricular confession and penance were admitted, a doctrine
agreeable to the Catholics: no mention was made of marriage, extreme
unction, confirmation, or holy orders, as sacraments; and in this
omission the influence of the Protestants appeared: the real presence
was asserted conformably to the ancient doctrine: the terms of
acceptance were established to be the merits of Christ, and the mercy
and good pleasure of God, suitably to the new principles.
So far the two sects seem to have made a fair partition by alternately
sharing the several clauses. In framing the subsequent articles, each of
them seems to have thrown in its ingredient. The Catholics prevailed
in asserting, that the use of images was warranted by Scripture; the
Protestants, in warning the people against idolatry, and the abuse
of these sensible representations. The ancient faith was adopted in
maintaining the expedience of praying to saints; the late innovations in
rejecting the peculiar patronage of saints to any trade, profession, or
course of action. The former rites of worship, the use of holy water,
and the ceremonies practised on Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday, Good Friday,
and other festivals, were still maintained; but the new refinements,
which made light of these institutions, were also adopted, by the
convocation’s denying that they had any immediate power of remitting
sin, and by its asserting that their sole merit consisted in promoting
pious and devout dispositions in the mind.
But the article with regard to purgatory contains the most curious
jargon, ambiguity, and hesitation, arising from the mixture of opposite
tenets. It was to this purpose: “Since, according to due order of
charity, and the book of Maccabees, and divers ancient authors, it is a
very good and charitable deed to pray for souls departed, and since such
a practice has been maintained in the church from the beginning, all
bishops and teachers should instruct the people not to be grieved for
the continuance of the same. But since the place where departed souls
are retained before they reach paradise, as well as the nature of their
pains, is left uncertain by Scripture, all such questions are to be
submitted to God, to whose mercy it is meet and convenient to commend
the deceased, trusting that he accepteth our prayers for them.”[*]
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 122, et seq. Fuller. Burnet, vol. i.
p. 215.
These articles, when framed by the convocation, and corrected by the
king, were subscribed by every member of that assembly; while, perhaps,
neither there nor throughout the whole kingdom, could one man be found,
except Henry himself, who had adopted precisely these very doctrines and
opinions. For though there be not any contradiction in the tenets
above mentioned, it had happened in England, as in all countries where
factious divisions have place; a certain creed was embraced by each
party; few neuters were to be found; and these consisted only of
speculative or whimsical people, of whom two persons could scarcely
be brought to an agreement in the same dogmas. The Protestants, all of
them, carried their opposition to Rome further than those articles; none
of the Catholics went so far: and the king, by being able to retain
the nation in such a delicate medium, displayed the utmost power of an
imperious despotism of which any history furnishes an example. To change
the religion of a country, even when seconded by a party, is one of the
most perilous enterprises which any sovereign can attempt, and often
proves the most destructive to royal authority. But Henry was able to
set the political machine in that furious movement, and yet regulate and
even stop its career: he could say to it, Thus far shalt thou go, and
no farther: and he made every vote of his parliament and convocation
subservient, not only to his interests and passions, but even to
his greatest caprices; nay, to his most refined and most scholastic
subtilties.
The concurrence of these two national assemblies served, no doubt, to
increase the king’s power over the people, and raised him to an
authority more absolute than any prince in a simple monarchy, even by
means of military force, is ever able to attain. But there are certain
bounds, beyond which the most slavish submission cannot be extended. All
the late innovations, particularly the dissolution of the smaller
monasteries, and the imminent danger to which all the rest were
exposed,[*] [11] had bred discontent among the people, and had disposed
them to revolt. The expelled monks, wandering about the country, excited
both the piety and compassion of men; and as the ancient religion took
hold of the populace by powerful motives, suited to vulgar capacity, it
was able, now that it was brought into apparent hazard, to raise the
strongest zeal in its favor.[**] Discontents had even reached some of
the nobility and gentry, whose ancestors had founded the monasteries,
and who placed a vanity in those institutions, as well as reaped some
benefit from them, by the provisions which they afforded them for their
younger children.
* See note L, at the end of the volume.
** Strype, vol. i. p. 249.
The more superstitious were interested for the souls of their
fore-fathers, which, they believed, must now lie during many ages in
the torments of purgatory, for want of masses to relieve them. It seemed
unjust to abolish pious institutions for the faults, real or pretended,
of individuals. Even the most moderate and reasonable deemed it somewhat
iniquitous, that men who had been invited into a course of life by all
the laws, human and divine, which prevailed in their country, should be
turned out of their possessions, and so little care be taken of their
future subsistence. And when it was observed, that the rapacity and
bribery of the commissioners and others, employed in visiting the
monasteries, intercepted much of the profits resulting from these
confiscations, it tended much to increase the general discontent.[*]
But the people did not break into open sedition till the complaints of
the secular clergy concurred with those of the regular. As Cromwell’s
person was little acceptable to the ecclesiastics, the authority which
he exercised, being so new, so absolute, so unlimited, inspired them
with disgust and terror. He published, in the king’s name, without the
consent either of parliament or convocation, an ordinance by which
he retrenched many of the ancient holy days; prohibited several
superstitions gainful to the clergy, such as pilgrimages, images,
relics; and even ordered the incumbents in the parishes to set apart a
considerable portion of their revenue for repairs and for the support of
exhibitioners and the poor of their parish. The secular priests, finding
themselves thus reduced to a grievous servitude, instilled into the
people those discontents which they had long harbored in their own
bosoms.
The first rising was in Lincolnshire. It was headed by Dr. Mackrel,
prior of Barlings, who was disguised like a mean mechanic, and who
bore the name of Captain Cobler. This tumultuary army amounted to above
twenty thousand men;[**] but notwithstanding their number, they showed
little disposition of proceeding to extremities against the king, and
seemed still overawed by his authority.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 223.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 227. Herbert.
They acknowledged him to be supreme head of the church of England; but
they complained of suppressing the monasteries, of evil counsellors, of
persons meanly born raised to dignity, of the danger to which the jewels
and plate of their parochial churches were exposed; and they prayed
the king to consult the nobility of the realm concerning the redress
of these grievances.[*] Henry was little disposed to entertain
apprehensions of danger, especially from a low multitude whom he
despised. He sent forces against the rebels, under the command of the
duke of Suffolk; and he returned them a very sharp answer to their
petition. There were some gentry whom the populace had constrained to
take part with them, and who kept a secret correspondence with Suffolk.
They informed him, that resentment against the king’s reply was the
chief cause which retained the malecontents in arms, and that a milder
answer would probably suppress the rebellion. Henry had levied a great
force at London, with which he was preparing to march against the
rebels; and being so well supported by power, he thought that, without
losing his dignity, he might now show them some greater condescension.
He sent a new proclamation, requiring them to return to their obedience,
with secret assurances of pardon. This expedient had its effect: the
populace was dispersed: Mackrel and some of their leaders fell into
the king’s hands, and were executed: the greater part of the multitude
retired peaceably to their usual occupations: a few of the more
obstinate fled to the north, where they joined the insurrection that was
raised in those parts.
The northern rebels, as they were more numerous, were also on other
accounts more formidable than those of Lincolnshire; because the people
were there more accustomed to arms, and because of their vicinity to
the Scots, who might make advantage of these disorders. One Aske, a
gentleman, had taken the command of them, and he possessed the art of
governing the populace. Their enterprise they called the “pilgrimage
of grace:” some priests marched before in the habits of their order,
carrying crosses in their hands: in their banners was woven a crucifix,
with the representation of a chalice, and of the five wounds of
Christ:[**] they wore on their sleeve an emblem of the five wounds, with
the name of Jesus wrought in the middle: they all took an oath, that
they had entered into the pilgrimage of grace from no other motive than
their love to God, their care of the king’s person and issue, their
desire of purifying the nobility, of driving base-born persons from
about the king, of restoring the church, and of suppressing heresy.
Allured by these fair pretences, about forty thousand men from the
counties of York, Durham, Lancaster, and those northern provinces,
flocked to their standard; and their zeal, no less than their numbers,
inspired the court with apprehensions.
* Herbert, p. 410.
** Fox, vol. ii. p. 992.
The earl of Shrewsbury, moved by his regard for the king’s service,
raised forces, though at first without any commission, in order to
oppose the rebels. The earl of Cumberland repulsed them from his castle
of Skipton: Sir Ralph Evers defended Scarborough Castle against them:[*]
Courtney, marquis of Exeter, the king’s cousin-german, obeyed orders
from court, and levied troops. The earls of Huntingdon, Derby, and
Rutland imitated his example. The rebels, however, prevailed in taking
both Hull and York: they had laid siege to Pomfret Castle, into which
the archbishop of York and Lord Darsy had thrown themselves. It was soon
surrendered to them; and the prelate and nobleman, who secretly wished
success to the insurrection, seemed to yield to the force imposed on
them, and joined the rebels.
* Stowe, p. 574. Baker, p. 258.
The duke of Norfolk was appointed general of the king’s forces against
the northern rebels; and as he headed the party at court which supported
the ancient religion, he was also suspected of bearing some favor to the
cause which he was sent to oppose. His prudent conduct, however, seems
to acquit him of this imputation. He encamped near Doncaster, together
with the earl of Shrewsbury; and as his army was small, scarcely
exceeding five thousand men, he made choice of a post where he had a
river in front, the ford of which he purposed to defend against the
rebels. They had intended to attack him in the morning; but during
the night there fell such violent rains as rendered the river utterly
unpassable; and Norfolk wisely laid hold of the opportunity to enter
into treaty with them. In order to open the door for negotiation,
he sent them a herald; whom Aske, their leader, received with great
ceremony; he himself sitting in a chair of state, with the archbishop
of York on one hand, and Lord Darcy on the other. It was agreed that
two gentlemen should be despatched to the king with proposals from the
rebels; and Henry purposely delayed giving an answer, and allured them
with hopes of entire satisfaction, in expectation that necessity
would soon oblige them to disperse themselves. Being informed that his
artifice had in a great measure succeeded, he required them instantly
to lay down their arms, and submit to mercy; promising a pardon to all,
except six whom he named, and four whom he reserved to himself the power
of naming. But though the greater part of the rebels had gone home for
want of subs stence, they had entered into the most solemn engagements
to return to their standards in case the king’s answer should not
prove satisfactory. Norfolk, therefore, soon found himself in the same
difficulty as before; and he opened again a negotiation with the leaders
of the multitude. He engaged them to send three hundred persons to
Doncaster with proposals for an accommodation; and he hoped, by intrigue
and separate interests, to throw dissension among so great a number.
Aske himself had intended to be one of the deputies, and he required a
hostage for his security: but the king, when consulted, replied, that he
knew no gentleman, or other, whom he esteemed so little as to put him in
pledge for such a villain. The demands of the rebels were so exorbitant,
that Norfolk rejected them; and they prepared again to decide the
contest by arms. They were as formidable as ever, both by their numbers
and spirit; and notwithstanding the small river which lay between them
and the royal army, Norfolk had great reason to dread the effects of
their fury. But while they were preparing to pass the ford, rain fell
a second time in such abundance, as made it impracticable for them to
execute their design; and the populace, partly reduced to necessity by
want of provisions, partly struck with superstition at being thus again
disappointed by the same accident, suddenly dispersed themselves. The
duke of Norfolk, who had received powers for that end, forwarded the
dispersion by the promise of a general amnesty; and the king ratified
this act of clemency. He published, however, a manifesto against the
rebels, and an answer to their complaints; in which he employed a very
lofty style, suited to so haughty a monarch. He told them, that they
ought no more to pretend giving a judgment with regard to government,
that a blind man with regard to colors. “And we,” he added, “with our
whole council, think it right strange that ye, who be but brutes and
inexpert folk, do take upon you to appoint us who be meet or not for our
council.”
{1537.} As this pacification was not likely to be of long continuance,
Norfolk was ordered to keep his army together, and to march into the
northern parts, in order to exact a general submission. Lord Darcy, as
well as Aske, was sent for to court; and the former, upon his refusal
or delay to appear, was thrown into prison. Every place was full
of jealousy and complaints. A new insurrection broke out, headed by
Musgrave and Tilby; and the rebels besieged Carlisle with thousand men.
Being repulsed by that city, they were encountered in their retreat by
Norfolk, who put them to flight; and having made prisoners of all their
officers, except Musgrave, who escaped, he instantly put them to death
by martial law, to the number of seventy persons. An attempt made by Sir
Francis Bigot and Halam to surprise Hull, met with no better success;
and several other risings were suppressed by the vigilance of Norfolk.
The king, enraged by these multiplied revolts, was determined not to
adhere to the general pardon which he had granted; and from a movement
of his usual violence he made the innocent suffer for the guilty.
Norfolk, by command from his master, spread the royal banner, and,
wherever he thought proper, executed martial law in the punishment of
offenders. Besides Aske, leader of the first insurrection, Sir Robert
Constable, Sir John Bulmer, Sir Thomas Piercy, Sir Stephen Hamilton,
Nicholas Tempest, William Lumley, and many others, were thrown into
prison; and most of them were condemned and executed. Lord Hussey was
found guilty, as an accomplice in the insurrection of Lincolnshire, and
was executed at Lincoln. Lord Darcy, though he pleaded compulsion, and
appealed for his justification to a long life spent in the service of
the crown, was beheaded on Tower Hill. Before his execution, he accused
Norfolk of having secretly encouraged the rebels; but Henry, either
sensible of that nobleman’s services, and convinced of his fidelity
or afraid to offend one of such extensive power and great capacity,
rejected the information. Being now satiated with punishing the rebels,
he published anew a general pardon, to which he faithfully adhered;
[*] and he erected, by patent, a court of justice at York, for deciding
lawsuits in the northern counties; a demand which had been made by the
rebels.
Soon after this prosperous success, an event happened which crowned
Henry’s joy--the birth of a son, who was baptized by the name of
Edward. Yet was not his happiness without alloy: the queen died two days
after.**
* Herbert, p. 428.
** Strype, vol. ii. p. 6.
But a son had so long been ardently wished for by Henry, and was now
become so necessary, in order to prevent disputes with regard to the
succession, after the acts declaring the two princesses illegitimate,
that the king’s affliction was drowned in his joy, and he expressed
great satisfaction on the occasion. The prince, not six days old, was
created prince of Wales, duke of Cornwall, and earl of Chester. Sir
Edward Seymour, the queen’s brother, formerly made Lord Beauchamp, was
raised to the dignity of earl of Hertford. Sir William Fitz-Williams,
high admiral, was created earl of Southampton; Sir William Paulet, Lord
St. John; Sir John Russel, Lord Russel.
{1538.} The suppression of the rebellion and the birth of a son, as they
confirmed Henry’s authority at home, increased his consideration among
foreign princes, and made his alliance be courted by all parties. He
maintained, however, a neutrality in the wars which were carried on with
various success, and without any decisive event, between Charles and
Francis; and though inclined more to favor the latter, he determined not
to incur, without necessity, either hazard or expense on his account. A
truce concluded about this time between these potentates, and afterwards
prolonged for ten years, freed him from all anxiety on account of his
ally, and reestablished the tranquillity of Europe.
Henry continued desirous of cementing a union with the German
Protestants; and for that purpose he sent Christopher Mount to a
congress which they held at Brunswick; but that minister made no great
progress in his negotiation. The princes wished to know what were the
articles in their confession which Henry disliked; and they sent new
ambassadors to him, who had orders both to negotiate and to dispute.
They endeavored to convince the king, that he was guilty of a mistake
in administering the eucharist in one kind only, in allowing private
masses, and in requiring the celibacy of the clergy.[*]
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 145, from the Cott. Lib. Cleopatra,
E. 5, fol 173.
Henry would by no means acknowledge any error in these particulars; and
was displeased that they should pretend to prescribe rules to so great
a monarch and theologian. He found arguments and syllogisms enough to
defend his cause; and he dismissed the ambassadors without coming to
any conclusion. Jealous, also, lest his own subjects should become
such theologians as to question his tenets, he used great precaution
in publishing that translation of the Scripture which was finished this
year. He would only allow a copy of it to be deposited in some parish
churches, where it was fixed by a chain: and he took care to inform the
people by proclamation, “that this indulgence was not the effect of
his duty, but of his goodness and his liberality to them: who therefore
should use it moderately, for the increase of virtue, not of strife: and
he ordered that no man should read the Bible aloud, so as to disturb
the priest while he sang mass, nor presume to expound doubtful places
without advice from the learned.” In this measure, as in the rest, he
still halted half way between the Catholics and the Protestants.
There was only one particular in which Henry was quite decisive; because
he was there impelled by his avarice, or, more properly-speaking, his
rapacity, the consequence of his profusion: this measure was the entire
destruction of the monasteries. The present opportunity seemed favorable
for that great enterprise, while the suppression of the late rebellion
fortified and increased the royal authority; and as some of the
abbots were suspected of having encouraged the insurrection, and of
corresponding with the rebels, the king’s resentment was further incited
by that motive. Anew visitation was appointed of all the monasteries in
England; and a pretence only being wanted for their suppression, it was
easy for a prince, possessed of such unlimited power, and seconding the
present humor of a great part of the nation, to find or feign one. The
abbots and monks knew the danger to which they were exposed; and having
learned by the example of the lesser monasteries that nothing
could withstand the king’s will, they were most of them induced, in
expectation of better treatment, to make a voluntary resignation of
their houses. Where promises failed of effect, menaces and even extreme
violence were employed; and as several of the abbots, since the breach
with Rome, had been named by the court with a view to this event, the
king’s intentions were the more easily effected. Some, also, having
secretly embraced the doctrine of the reformation, were glad to be freed
from their vows; and on the whole, the design was conducted with such
success, than in less than two years the king had got possession of all
the monastic revenues.
In several places, particularly the county of Oxford, great interest was
made to preserve some convents of women, who, as they lived in the most
irreproachable manner, justly merited, it was thought, that their houses
should be saved from the general destruction.[*]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 328.
There appeared, also, great difference between the case of nuns and that
of friars; and the one institution might be laudable, while the other
was exposed to much blame. The males of all ranks, if endowed with
industry might be of service to the public; and none of them could want
employment suited to his station and capacity. But a woman of family who
failed of a settlement in the married state,--an accident to which such
persons were more liable than women of lower station,--had really
no rank which she properly filled; and a convent was a retreat both
honorable and agreeable, from the inutility, and often want, which
attended her situation. But the king was determined to abolish
monasteries of every denomination; and probably thought that these
ancient establishments would be the sooner forgotten, if no remains of
them of any kind were allowed to subsist in the kingdom.
The better to reconcile the people to this great innovation, stories
were propagated of the detestable lives of the friars in many of the
convents; and great care was taken to defame those whom the court had
determined to ruin. The relics also and other superstitions, which had
so long been the object of the people’s veneration, were exposed to
their ridicule; and the religious spirit, now less bent on exterior
observances and sensible objects, was encouraged in this new direction.
It is needless to be prolix in an enumeration of particulars: Protestant
historians mention on this occasion, with great triumph, the sacred
repositories of convents; the parings of St. Edmond’s toes; some of
the coals that roasted St. Laurence; the girdle of the Virgin shown in
eleven several places; two or three heads of St. Ursula; the felt of St
Thomas of Lancaster, an infallible cure for the headache; part of St.
Thomas of Canterbury’s shirt, much reverenced by big-bellied women; some
relics, an excellent preventive against rain; others, a remedy to weeds
in corn. But such fooleries, as they are to be found in all ages
and nations, and even took place during the most refined periods of
antiquity, form no particular or violent reproach to the Catholic
religion.
There were also discovered, or said to be discovered, in the monasteries
some impostures of a more artificial nature. At Hales, in the county
of Glocester, there had been shown, during several ages, the blood of
Christ, brought from Jerusalem; and it is easy to imagine the veneration
with which such a relic was regarded. A miraculous circumstance also
attended this miraculous relic; the sacred blood was not visible to any
one in mortal sin, even when set before him; and till he had performed
good works sufficient for his absolution, it would not deign to
discover itself to him. At the dissolution of the monastery, the whole
contrivance was detected. Two of the monks, who were let into the
secret, had taken the blood of a duck, which they renewed every
week: they put it in a phial, one side of which consisted of thin
and transparent crystal, the other of thick and opaque. When any rich
pilgrim arrived, they were sure to show him the dark side of the phial,
till masses and offerings had expiated his offences and then, finding
his money, or patience, or faith, nearly exhausted, they made him happy
by turning the phial.[*]
A miraculous crucifix had been kept at Boxley, in Kent, and bore the
appellation of the “rood of grace.” The lips, and eyes, and head of
the image moved on the approach of its votaries. Hilsey, bishop of
Rochester, broke the crucifix at St. Paul’s Cross, and showed to the
whole people the springs and wheels by which it had been secretly moved.
A great wooden idol, revered in Wales, called Darvel Gatherin, was
also brought to London, and cut in pieces; and by a cruel refinement
in vengeance, it was employed as fuel to burn friar Forest,[**] who was
punished for denying the supremacy, and for some pretended heresies.
A finger of St. Andrew, covered with a thin plate of silver, had been
pawned by a convent for a debt of forty pounds; but as the king’s
commissioners refused to pay the debt, people made themselves merry with
the poor creditor on account of his pledge.
* Herbert, p. 431, 432. Stowe, p. 575.
** Goodwin’s Annals. Stowe, p. 575. Herbert. Baker, p. 286.
But of all the instruments of ancient superstition, no one was so
zealously destroyed as the shrine of Thomas à Becket, commonly called
St. Thomas of Canterbury. This saint owed his canonization to the
zealous defence which he had made for clerical privileges; and on
that account also the monks had extremely encouraged the devotion of
pilgrimages towards his tomb, and numberless were the miracles which
they pretended his relics wrought in favor of his devout votaries. They
raised his body once a year; and the day on which this ceremony was
performed, which was called the day of his translation, was a general
holiday: every fiftieth year there was celebrated a jubilee to his
honor, which lasted fifteen days: plenary indulgences were then granted
to all that visited his tomb; and a hundred thousand pilgrims have been
registered at a time in Canterbury. The devotion towards him had quite
effaced in that place the adoration of the Deity; nay, even that of the
Virgin. At God’s altar, for instance, there were offered in one year
three pounds two shillings and sixpence; at the Virgin’s, sixty-three
pounds five shillings and sixpence; at St. Thomas’s, eight hundred and
thirty-two pounds twelve shillings and threepence. But next year the
disproportion was still greater; there was not a penny offered at God’s
altar; the Virgin’s gained only four pounds one shilling and eight
pence; but St. Thomas had got for his share nine hundred and fifty-four
pounds six shillings and threepence.[*] Lewis VII. of France had made
a pilgrimage to this miraculous tomb, and had bestowed on the shrine a
jewel, esteemed the richest in Christendom. It is evident how obnoxious
to Henry a saint of this character must appear, and how contrary to all
his projects for degrading the authority of the court of Rome. He not
only pillaged the rich shrine dedicated to St. Thomas; he made the saint
himself be cited to appear in court, and be tried and condemned as
a traitor: he ordered his name to be struck out of the calendar; the
office for his festival to be expunged from all breviaries; his bones to
be burned, and the ashes to be thrown in the air.
On the whole, the king at different times suppressed six hundred and
forty-five monasteries; of which twenty-eight had abbots that enjoyed a
seat in parliament. Ninety colleges were demolished in several counties;
two thousand three hundred and seventy-four chantries and free chapels;
a hundred and ten hospitals. The whole revenue of these establishments
amounted to one hundred and sixty-one thousand one hundred pounds.[**]
It is worthy of observation, that all the lands and possessions and
revenue of England had, a little before this period, been rated at four
millions a year; so that the revenues of the monks, even comprehending
the lesser monasteries, did not exceed the twentieth part of the
national income; a sum vastly inferior to what is commonly apprehended.
The lands belonging to the convents were usually let at very low rent;
and the farmers, who regarded themselves as a species of proprietors,
took always care to renew their leases before they expired.[***] [13]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 244.
** Lord Herbert. Camden. Speed.
*** See note M, at the end of the volume.
Great murmurs were every where excited on account of these violences;
and men much questioned whether priors and monks, who were only trustees
or tenants for life, could, by any deed, however voluntary, transfer to
the king the entire property of their estates, In order to reconcile the
people to such mighty innovations, they were told that the king would
never thenceforth have occasion to levy taxes, but would be able, from
the abbey lands alone, to bear, during war as well as peace, the whole
charges of government.[*] While such topics were employed to appease the
populace, Henry took an effectual method of interesting the nobility and
gentry in the success of his measures:[**] he either made a gift of the
revenues of convents to his favorites and courtiers, or sold them at low
prices, or exchanged them for other lands on very disadvantageous terms.
He was so profuse in these liberalities, that he is said to have given
a woman the whole revenue of a convent, as a reward for making a pudding
which happened to gratify his palate.[***] He also settled pensions on
the abbots and priors, proportioned to their former revenues or to their
merits; and gave each monk a yearly pension of eight marks: he erected
six new bishoprics, Westminster, Oxford, Peterborough, Bristol, Chester,
and Glocester; of which five subsist at this day: and by all these means
of expense and dissipation, the profit which the king reaped by the
seizure of church lands fell much short of vulgar opinion. As the ruin
of convents had been foreseen some years before it happened, the monks
had taken care to secrete most of their stock, furniture, and plate; so
that the spoils of the great monasteries bore not, in these respects,
any proportion to those of the lesser.
* Coke’s 4th Inst. fol. 44.
** Dugdale’s Warwickshire, p. 800.
*** Fuller.
Besides the lands possessed by the monasteries, the regular clergy
enjoyed a considerable part of the benefices of England, and of the
tithes annexed to them; and these were also at this time transferred to
the crown, and by that means passed into the hands of laymen; an abuse
which many zealous churchmen regarded as the most criminal sacrilege.
The monks were formerly much at their ease in England, and enjoyed
revenues which exceeded the regular and stated expense of the house. We
read of the abbey of Chertsey, in Surrey, which possessed seven hundred
and forty-four pounds a year, though it contained only fourteen monks:
that of Furnese, in the county of Lincoln, was valued at nine hundred
and sixty pounds a year, and contained but thirty.[*] In order to
dissipate their revenues, and support popularity, the monks lived in a
hospitable manner; and besides the poor maintained from their offals,
there were many decayed gentlemen who passed their lives in travelling
from convent to convent, and were entirely subsisted at the tables of
the friars. By this hospitality, as much as by their own inactivity,
did the convents prove nurseries of idleness; but the king, not to give
offence by too sudden an innovation, bound the new proprietors of
abbey lands to support the ancient hospitality. But this engagement was
fulfilled in very few places, and for a very short time.
* Burnet, vol. i p. 237.
It is easy to imagine the indignation with which the intelligence of
all these acts of violence was received at Rome; and how much the
ecclesiastics of that court, who had so long kept the world in
subjection by high-sounding epithets and by holy execrations, would now
vent their rhetoric against the character and conduct of Henry. The pope
was at last incited to publish the bull which had been passed against
that monarch; and in a public manner he delivered over his soul to the
devil, and his dominions to the first invader. Libels were dispersed, in
which he was anew compared to the most furious persecutors in antiquity;
and the preference was now given to their side: he had declared war with
the dead, whom the pagans themselves respected; was at open hostility
with Heaven; and had engaged in professed enmity with the whole host
of saints and angels. Above all, he was often reproached with his
resemblance to the emperor Julian, whom, it was said, he imitated in
his apostasy and learning, though he fell short of him in morals. Henry
could distinguish in some of these libels the style and animosity of
his kinsman Pole; and he was thence incited to vent his rage, by every
possible expedient, on that famous cardinal.
Reginald de la Pole, or Reginald Pole, was descended from the royal
family, being fourth son of the countess of Salisbury, daughter of the
duke of Clarence. He gave in early youth indications of that fine genius
and generous disposition by which, during his whole life, he was so
much distinguished and Henry, having conceived great friendship for him,
intended to raise him to the highest ecclesiastical dignities; and, as
a pledge of future favors, he conferred on him the deanery of Exeter,[*]
the better to support him in his education. Pole was carrying on his
studies in the university of Paris at the time when the king solicited
the suffrages of that learned body in favor of his divorce; but though
applied to by the English agent, he declined taking any part in the
affair. Henry bore this neglect with more temper than was natural
to him; and he appeared unwilling, on that account, to renounce all
friendship with a person whose virtues and talents, he hoped, would
prove useful as well as ornamental to his court and kingdom. He allowed
him still to possess his deanery, and gave him permission to finish his
studies at Padua: he even paid him some court, in order to bring him
into his measures; and wrote to him, while in that university, desiring
him to give his opinion freely with regard to the late measures taken in
England for abolishing the papal authority. Pole had now contracted an
intimate friendship with all persons eminent for dignity or merit in
Italy--Sadolet, Bembo, and other revivers of true taste and learning;
and he was moved by these connections, as well as by religious zeal, to
forget, in some respect, the duty which he owed to Henry, his benefactor
and his sovereign. He replied by writing a treatise of the Unity of the
Church, in which he inveighed against the king’s supremacy, his divorce,
his second marriage; and he even exhorted the emperor to revenge on him
the injury done to the imperial family and to the Catholic cause.
Henry, though provoked beyond measure at this outrage, dissembled his
resentment; and he sent a message to Pole, desiring him to return to
England, in order to explain certain passages in his book which he
found somewhat obscure and difficult. Pole was on his guard against this
insidious invitation; and was determined to remain in Italy, where he
was universally beloved.
The pope and emperor thought themselves obliged to provide for a man
of Pole’s eminence and dignity, who, in support of their cause, had
sacrificed all his pretensions to fortune in his own country. He was
created a cardinal; and though he took not higher orders than those of a
deacon, he was sent legate into Flanders about the year 1536.[**]
* Goodwin’s Annals
** Herbert.
Henry was sensible that Pole’s chief intention in choosing that
employment, was to foment the mutinous disposition of the English
Catholics; and he therefore remonstrated in so vigorous a manner with
the queen of Hungary, regent of the Low Countries, that she dismissed
the legate, without allowing him to exercise his functions. The enmity
which he bore to Pole was now as open as it was violent; and the
cardinal, on his part, kept no further measures in his intrigues against
Henry. He is even suspected of having aspired to the crown, by means of
a marriage with the lady Mary; and the king was every day more alarmed
by informations which he received of the correspondence maintained in
England by that fugitive. Courtney, marquis of Exeter, had entered
into a conspiracy with him; Sir Edward Nevil, brother to the lord
Abergavenny; Sir Nicholas Carew, master of horse, and knight of the
garter; Henry de la Pole, Lord Montacute, and Sir Geoffrey de la Pole,
brothers to the cardinal. These persons were indicted, and tried,
and convicted, before Lord Audley, who presided in the trial as high
steward; they were all executed, except Sir Geoffrey de la Pole, who was
pardoned; and he owed this grace to his having first carried to the king
secret intelligence of the conspiracy. We know little concerning the
justice or iniquity of the sentence pronounced against these men:
we only know, that the condemnation of a man who was at that time
prosecuted by the court, forms no presumption of his guilt; though,
as no historian of credit mentions in the present case any complaint
occasioned by these trials, we may presume that sufficient evidence was
produced against the marquis of Exeter and his associates.[*]
* Herbert in Kennet, p. 216.
CHAPTER XXXII.
HENRY VIII.
{1538.} THE rough hand of Henry seemed well adapted for rending asunder
those bands by which the ancient superstition had fastened itself on
the kingdom; and though, after renouncing the pope’s supremacy and
suppressing monasteries, most of the political ends of reformation
were already attained, few people expected that he would stop at those
innovations. The spirit of opposition, it was thought, would carry him
to the utmost extremities against the church of Rome; and lead him
to declare war against the whole doctrine and worship, as well as
discipline, of that mighty hierarchy. He had formerly appealed from
the pope to a general council; but now, when a general council was
summoned to meet at Mantua, he previously renounced all submission to
it, as summoned by the pope, and lying entirely under subjection to that
spiritual usurper. He engaged his clergy to make a declaration to the
like purpose; and he had prescribed to them many other deviations
from ancient tenets and practices. Cranmner took advantage of every
opportunity to carry him on in this course; and while Queen Jane lived,
who favored the reformers, he had, by means of her insinuation and
address, been successful in his endeavors. After her death, Gardiner,
who was returned from his embassy to France, kept the king more in
suspense; and by feigning an unlimited submission to his will, was
frequently able to guide him to his own purposes. Fox, bishop of
Hereford, had supported Cranmer in his schemes for a more thorough
reformation; but his death had made way for the promotion of Bonner,
who, though he had hitherto seemed a furious enemy to the court of Rome,
was determined to sacrifice every thing to present interest, and
had joined the confederacy of Gardiner and the partisans of the old
religion. Gardiner himself, it was believed, had secretly entered into
measures with the pope, and even with the emperor; and in concert
with these powers, he endeavored to preserve, as much as possible, the
ancient faith and worship.
Henry was so much governed by passion, that nothing could have retarded
his animosity and opposition against Rome, but some other passion, which
stopped his career, and raised him new objects of animosity. Though he
had gradually, since the commencement of his scruples with regard to his
first marriage, been changing the tenets of that theological system in
which he had been educated, he was no less positive and dogmatical in
the few articles which remained to him, than if the whole fabric had
continued entire and unshaken. And though he stood alone in his opinion,
the flattery of courtiers had so inflamed his tyrannical arrogance, that
he thought himself entitled to regulate, by his own particular standard,
the religious faith of the whole nation. The point on which he chiefly
rested his orthodoxy happened to be the real presence; that very
doctrine, in which, among the numberless victories of superstition
over common sense, her triumph is the most signal and egregious. All
departure from this principle he held to be heretical and detestable;
and nothing, he thought, would be more honorable for him, than, while he
broke off all connections with the Roman pontiff, to maintain, in this
essential article, the purity of the Catholic faith.
There was one Lambert,[*] a schoolmaster in London, who had been
questioned and confined for unsound opinions by Archbishop Warham; but
upon the death of that prelate, and the change of counsels at court, he
had been released. Not terrified with the danger which he had incurred,
he still continued to promulgate his tenets; and having heard Dr. Taylor
afterwards bishop of Lincoln, defend in a sermon the corporal presence,
he could not forbear expressing to Taylor his dissent from that
doctrine; and he drew up his objections under ten several heads. Taylor
communicated the paper to Dr. Barnes, who happened to be a Lutheran, and
who maintained that though the substance of bread and wine remained, in
the sacrament, yet the real body and blood of Christ were there also,
and were, in a certain mysterious manner, incorporated with the material
elements.
* Fox, vol. ii. p. 396.
By the present laws and practice Barnes was no less exposed to the stake
than Lambert; yet such was the persecuting rage which prevailed, that
he determined to bring this man to condign punishment; because of their
common departure from the ancient faith, he had dared to go one step
farther than himself. He engaged Taylor to accuse Lambert before Cranmer
and Latimer, who, whatever their private opinion might be on these
points, were obliged to conform themselves to the standard of orthodoxy
established by Henry. When Lambert was cited before these prelates, they
endeavored to bend him to a recantation; and they were surprised when,
instead of complying, he ventured to appeal to the king.
The king, not displeased with an opportunity where he could at once
exert his supremacy and display his learning, accepted the appeal;
and resolved to mix, in a very unfair manner, the magistrate with the
disputant. Public notice was given that he intended to enter the lists
with the schoolmaster: scaffolds were erected in Westminster Hall,
for the accommodation of the audience: Henry appeared on his throne
accompanied with all the ensigns of majesty: the prelates were placed
on his right hand: the temporal peers on his left. The judges and
most eminent lawyers had a place assigned them behind the bishops; the
courtiers of greatest distinction behind the peers; and in the midst
of this splendid assembly was produced the unhappy Lambert, who was
required to defend his opinions against his royal antagonist.[*]
The bishop of Chichester opened the conference, by saying, that Lambert,
being charged with heretical pravity, had appealed from his bishop to
the king; as if he expected more favor from this application, and as
if the king could ever be induced to protect a heretic: that though
his majesty had thrown off the usurpations of the see of Rome; had
disincorporated some idle monks, who lived like drones in a beehive, had
abolished the idolatrous worship of images; had published the Bible
in English, for the instruction of all his subjects; and had made
some lesser alterations, which every one must approve of; yet was he
determined to maintain the purity of the Catholic faith, and to punish
with the utmost severity all departure from it; and that he had taken
the present opportunity, before so learned and grave an audience, of
convincing Lambert of his errors; but if he still continued obstinate in
them, he must expect the most condign punishment,[**]
* Fox, vol. ii. p. 426
** Goodwin’s Annals
After this preamble, which was not very encouraging, the king asked
Lambert, with a stern countenance, what his opinion was of Christ’s
corporal presence in the sacrament of the altar; and when Lambert began
his reply with some compliment to his majesty, he rejected the praise
with disdain and indignation. He afterwards pressed Lambert with
arguments drawn from Scripture and the schoolmen: the audience applauded
the force of his reasoning, and the extent of his erudition: Cranmer
seconded his proofs by some new topics. Gardiner entered the lists as
a support to Cranmner: Tonstal took up the argument after Gardiner:
Stokesley brought fresh aid to Tonstal; six bishops more appeared
successively in the field after Stokesley. And the disputation, if it
deserve the name, was prolonged for five hours; till Lambert, fatigued,
confounded, browbeaten, and abashed, was at last reduced to silence. The
king, then returning to the charge, asked him whether he were convinced;
and he proposed, as a concluding argument, this interesting question:
Whether he were resolved to live or to die? Lambert, who possessed
that courage which consists in obstinacy, replied, that he cast himself
wholly on his majesty’s clemency: the king told him that he would be no
protector of heretics; and, therefore, if that were his final answer,
he must expect to be committed to the flames Cromwell, as vicegerent,
pronounced the sentence against him.[*] [14]
Lambert, whose vanity had probably incited him the more to persevere on
account of the greatness of this public appearance, was not daunted
by the terrors of the punishment to which he was condemned. His
executioners took care to make the sufferings of a man who had
personally opposed the king as cruel as possible: he was burned at a
slow fire; his legs and thighs were consumed to the stumps; and when
there appeared no end of his torments, some of the guards, more merciful
than the rest, lifted him on their halberts and threw him into the
flames, where he was consumed. While they were employed in this friendly
office, he cried aloud several times, “None but Christ, none but
Christ!” and these words were in his mouth when he expired.[**]
Some few days before this execution, four Dutch Anabaptists, three men
and a woman, had fagots tied to their backs at Paul’s Cross, and were
burned in that manner. Andaman and a woman of the same sect and country
were burned in Smithfield.[***]
* See note N, at the end of the volume.
** Fox’s Acts and Monuments, p. 427. Burnet.
*** Stow, p. 556.
{1539.} It was the unhappy fate of the English during this age, that,
when they labored under any grievance, they had not the satisfaction of
expecting redress from parliament on the contrary, they had reason to
dread each meeting of that assembly, and were then sure of having
tyranny converted into law, and aggravated, perhaps, with some
circumstance which the arbitrary prince and his ministers had not
hitherto devised, or did not think proper of themselves to carry into
execution. This abject servility never appeared more conspicuously than
in a new parliament which the king now assembled, and which, if he had
been so pleased, might have been the last that ever sat in England. But
he found them too useful instruments of dominion ever to entertain
thoughts of giving them a total exclusion.
The chancellor opened the parliament by informing the house of lords,
that it was his majesty’s earnest desire to extirpate from his kingdom
all diversity of opinion in matters of religion; and as this undertaking
was, he owned, important and arduous, he desired them to choose a
committee from among themselves, who might draw up certain articles
of faith; and communicate them afterwards to the parliament. The lords
named the vicar-general, Cromwell, now created peer, the archbishops of
Canterbury and York, the bishops of Durham, Carlisle, Worcester, Bath
and Wells, Bangor, and Ely. The house might have seen what a hopeful
task they had undertaken: this small committee itself was agitated with
such diversity of opinion, that it could come to no conclusion. The duke
of Norfolk then moved in the house, that, since there were no hopes of
having a report from the committee, the articles of faith intended to be
established should be reduced to six; and a new committee be appointed
to draw an act with regard to them. As this peer was understood to speak
the sense of the king, his motion was immediately complied with; and,
after a short prorogation, the bill of the “six articles,” or the bloody
bill, as the Protestants justly termed it, was introduced, and having
passed the two houses, received the royal assent.
In this law the doctrine of the real presence was established, the
communion in one kind, the perpetual obligation of vows of chastity, the
utility of private masses, the celibacy of the clergy, and the necessity
of auricular confession. The denial of the first article, with regard
to the real presence, subjected the person to death by fire, and to the
same forfeiture as in cases of treason; and admitted not the privilege
of abjuring: an unheard-of severity, and unknown to the inquisition
itself The denial of any of the other five articles, even though
recanted, was punishable by the forfeiture of goods and chattels, and
imprisonment during the king’s pleasure: an obstinate adherence to
error, or a relapse, was adjudged to be felony, and punishable with
death. The marriage of priests was subjected to the same punishment.
Their commerce with women was, on the first offence, forfeiture and
imprisonment; on the second, death. The abstaining from confession,
and from receiving the eucharist at the accustomed times, subjected the
person to fine, and to imprisonment during the king’s pleasure; and if
the criminal persevered after conviction, he was punishable by death and
forfeiture, as in cases of felony.[*] Commissioners were to be appointed
by the king for inquiring into these heresies and irregular practices;
and the criminals were to be tried by a jury.
The king in framing this law laid his oppressive hand on both parties;
and even the Catholics had reason to complain, that the friars and nuns,
though dismissed their convent, should be capriciously restrained to
the practice of celibacy:[**] [15] but as the Protestants were chiefly
exposed to the severity of the statute, the misery of adversaries,
according to the usual maxims of party, was regarded by the adherents
to the ancient religion as their own prosperity and triumph. Cranmer
had the courage to oppose this bill in the house; and though the king
desired him to absent himself, he could not be prevailed on to give this
proof of compliance.[***] Henry was accustomed to Cranmer’s freedom
and sincerity; and being convinced of the general rectitude of his
intentions, gave him an unusual indulgence in this particular, and
never allowed even a whisper against him. That prelate, however, was now
obliged, in obedience to the statute, to dismiss his wife, the niece of
Osiander, a famous divine of Nuremburg,[****] and Henry, satisfied with
this proof of submission, showed him his former countenance and favor.
Latimer and Shaxton threw up their bishoprics on account of the law, and
were committed to prison.
* 31 Henry VIII. c. 14. Herbert in Kenuet, p. 219.
** See note O, at the 3 end of the volume.
*** Burnet, vol. i. p. 249, 270. Fox, vol. ii. p. 1037.
**** Herbert in Kennet, p. 219.
The parliament, having thus resigned all their religious liberties,
proceeded to an entire surrender of their civil; and without scruple or
deliberation they made, by one act, a total subversion of the English
constitution. They gave to the king’s proclamation the same force as
to a statute enacted by parliament; and to render the matter worse, if
possible, they framed this law, as if it were only declaratory, and were
intended to explain the natural extent of royal authority. The preamble
contains, that the king had formerly set forth several proclamations
which froward persons had wilfully contemned, not considering what a
king, by his royal power, may do; that this license might encourage
offenders not only to disobey the laws of Almighty God, but also to
dishonor the king’s most royal majesty, “who may full ill bear it;”
that sudden emergencies often occur, which require speedy remedies, and
cannot await the slow assembling and deliberations of parliament; and
that, though the king was empowered by his authority, derived from God,
to consult the public good on these occasions, yet the opposition of
refractory subjects might push him to extremity and violence: for these
reasons the parliament, that they might remove all occasion of doubt,
ascertained by a statute this prerogative of the crown and enabled his
majesty, with the advice of his council, to set forth proclamations
enjoining obedience under whatever pains and penalties he should think
proper; and these proclamations were to have the force of perpetual
laws.[*]
* 31 Henry VIII. c. 8.
What proves either a stupid or a wilful blindness in the parliament,
is, that they pretended, even after this statute, to maintain some
limitations in the government; and they enacted, that no proclamation
should deprive any person of his lawful possessions, liberties,
inheritances, privileges, franchises; nor yet infringe any common law
or laudable custom of the realm. They did not consider, that no penalty
could be inflicted on the disobeying of proclamations, without invading
some liberty or property of the subject; and that the power of enacting
new laws, joined to the dispensing power then exercised by the crown,
amounted to a full legislative authority. It is true, the kings of
England had always been accustomed from their own authority to issue
proclamations, and to exact obedience to them; and this prerogative was,
no doubt, a strong symptom of absolute government: but still there was
a difference between a power which was exercised on a particular
emergence, and which must be justified by the present expedience or
necessity, and an authority conferred by a positive statute, which could
no longer admit of control or limitation.
Could any act be more opposite to the spirit of liberty than this law,
it would have been another of the same parliament. They passed an act of
attainder, not only against the marquis of Exeter, the lords Montacute,
Darcy, Hussey, and others, who had been legally tried and condemned,
but also against some persons of the highest quality, who had never been
accused, or examined, or convicted. The violent hatred which Henry bore
to Cardinal Pole had extended itself to all his friends and relations;
and his mother in particular, the countess of Salisbury, had on that
account become extremely obnoxious to him. She was also accused of
having employed her authority with her tenants, to hinder them from
reading the new translation of the Bible; of having procured bulls from
Rome, which, it is said, had been seen at Coudray, her country seat; and
of having kept a correspondence with her son, the cardinal; but Henry
found, either that these offences could not be proved, or that they
would not by law be subjected to such severe punishments as he desired
to inflict upon her. He resolved, therefore, to proceed in a more
summary and more tyrannical manner; and for that purpose he sent
Cromwell, who was but too obsequious to his will, to ask the judges,
whether the parliament could attaint a person who was forthcoming,
without giving him any trial, or citing him to appear before them?[*]
The judges replied, that it was a dangerous question; and that the high
court of parliament ought to give the example to inferior courts, of
proceeding according to justice; no inferior court could act in that
arbitrary manner, and they thought that the parliament never would.
Being pressed to give a more explicit answer, they replied, that if
a person were attainted in that manner, the attainder could never
afterwards be brought in question, but must remain good in law. Henry
learned by this decision, that such a method of proceeding, though
directly contrary to all the principles of equity, was yet practicable;
and this being all he was anxious to know, he resolved to employ it
against the countess of Salisbury.
* Coke’s 4th Inst. p. 37, 38.
Cromwell showed to the house of peers a banner, on which were
embroidered the five wounds of Christ, the symbol chosen by the northern
rebels; and this banner he affirmed, was found in the countess’s
house.[*] No other proof seems to have been produced in order to
ascertain her guilt: the parliament, without further inquiry, passed
a bill of attainder against her; and they involved in the same bill,
without any better proof, as far as appears, Gertrude marchioness
of Exeter, Sir Adrian Fortescue, and Sir Thomas Dingley. These two
gentlemen were executed; the marchioness was pardoned and survived the
king; the countess received a reprieve.
The only beneficial act passed this session, was that by which the
parliament confirmed the surrender of the monasteries; yet even this act
contains much falsehood, much tyranny, and, were it not that all private
rights must submit to public interest, much injustice and iniquity. The
scheme of engaging the abbots to surrender their monasteries had been
conducted, as may easily be imagined, with many invidious circumstances:
arts of all kinds had been employed; every motive that could work on the
frailty of human nature had been set before them; and it was with great
difficulty that these dignified conventuals were brought to make
a concession, which most of them regarded as destructive of their
interests, as well as sacrilegious and criminal in itself.[**] Three
abbots had shown more constancy than the rest, the abbots of Colchester,
Reading, and Glastenbury; and in order to punish them for their
opposition, and make them an example to others, means had been found
to convict them of treason, they had perished by the hands of the
executioner, and the revenue of the convents had been forfeited.[***]
Besides, though none of these violences had taken place, the king knew
that a surrender made by men who were only tenants for life, would not
bear examination; and he was therefore resolved to make all sure by his
usual expedient, an act of parliament. In the preamble to this act, the
parliament asserts, that all the surrenders made by the abbots had been
“without constraint, of their own accord, and according to due course of
common law.” And in consequence, the two houses confirm the surrenders,
and secure the property of the abbey lands to the king and his
successors forever.[****] It is remarkable, that all the mitred abbots
still sat in the house of peers, and that none of them made any protests
against this injurious statute.
* Rymer, vol. xiv. p. 652.
** Collier, vol. ii. p. 158 et see
*** 31 Henry VIII. c. 10.
**** 31 Henry VIII. c. 13.
In this session, the rank of all the great officers of state was fixed:
Cromwell, as vicegerent, had the precedency assigned him above all of
them. It was thought singular, that a blacksmith’s son, for he was no
other, should have place next the royal family; and that a man possessed
of no manner of literature should be set at the head of the church.
As soon as the act of the six articles had passed, the Catholics were
extremely vigilant in informing against offenders; and no less than five
hundred persons were in a little time thrown into prison. But Cromwell,
who had not had interest enough to prevent that act, was able for the
present to elude its execution. Seconded by the duke of Suffolk and
Chancellor Audley, as well as by Cranmer, he remonstrated against the
cruelty of punishing so many delinquents; and he obtained permission to
set them at liberty. The uncertainty of the king’s humor gave each party
an opportunity of triumphing in its turn. No sooner had Henry passed
this law, which seemed to inflict so deep a wound on the reformers,
than he granted a general permission for every one to have the new
translation of the Bible in his family; a concession regarded by that
party as an important victory.
But as Henry was observed to be much governed by his wives while he
retained his fondness for them, the final prevalence of either party
seemed much to depend on the choice of the future queen. Immediately
after the death of Jane Seymour, the most beloved of all his wives,
he began to think of a new marriage. He first cast his eye towards the
duchess dowager of Milan, niece to the emperor; and he made proposals
for that alliance. But meeting with difficulties, he was carried by his
friendship for Francis rather to think of a French princess. He demanded
the duchess dowager of Longueville, daughter of the duke of Guise, a
prince of the house of Lorraine; but Francis told him, that the lady was
already betrothed to the king of Scotland. The king, however, would
not take a refusal: he had set his heart extremely on the match: the
information which he had received of the duchess’s accomplishments and
beauty, had prepossessed him in her favor; and having privately sent
over Meautys to examine her person, and get certain intelligence of her
conduct, the accounts which that agent brought him served further to
inflame his desires. He learned that she was big made; and he thought
her on that account the more proper match for him who was now become
somewhat corpulent. The pleasure, too, of mortifying his nephew, whom he
did not love, was a further incitement to his prosecution of this match;
and he insisted that Francis should give him the preference to the king
of Scots. But Francis, though sensible that the alliance of England
was of much greater importance to his interests, would not affront his
friend and ally; and to prevent further solicitation, he immediately
sent the princess to Scotland. Not to shock, however, Henry’s humor,
Francis made him an offer of Mary of Bourbon, daughter of the duke of
Vendôme; but as the king was informed that James had formerly rejected
this princess he would not hear any further of such a proposal. The
French monarch then offered him the choice of the two younger sisters of
the queen of Scots; and he assured him, that they were nowise inferior
either in merit or size to their elder sister, and that one of them was
even superior in beauty. The king was as scrupulous with regard to the
person of his wives, as if his heart had been really susceptible of a
delicate passion; and he was unwilling to trust any relations, or even
pictures, with regard to this important particular. He proposed to
Francis, that they should have a conference at Calais on pretence of
business; and that this monarch should bring along with him the two
princesses of Guise, together with the finest ladies of quality in
France, that he might make a choice among them. But the gallant spirit
of Francis was shocked with the proposal: he was impressed with too much
regard, he said, for the fair sex, to carry ladies of the first quality
like geldings to a market, there to be chosen or rejected by the humor
of the purchaser.[*] Henry would hearken to none of these niceties,
but still insisted on his proposal; which, however, notwithstanding
Francis’s earnest desire of obliging him, was finally rejected.
* Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 638
The king then began to turn his thoughts towards a German alliance; and
as the princes of the Smalcaldic league were extremely disgusted with
the emperor on account of his persecuting their religion, he hoped, by
matching himself into one of their families, to renew a connection which
he regarded as so advantageous to him. Cromwell joyfully seconded this
intention; and proposed to him Anne of Cleves, whose father, the duke
of that name, had great interest among the Lutheran princes, and whose
sister, Sibylla, was married to the elector of Saxony, the head of the
Protestant league. A flattering picture of the princess, by Hans Holben,
determined Henry to apply to her father; and after some negotiation, the
marriage, notwithstanding the opposition of the elector of Saxony was at
last concluded; and Anne was sent over to England. The king, impatient
to be satisfied with regard to the person of his bride, came privately
to Rochester and got a sight of her. He found her big, indeed, and tall
as he could wish; but utterly destitute both of beauty and grace; very
unlike the pictures and representations which he had received: he swore
she was a great Flanders mare; and declared that he never could possibly
bear her any affection. The matter was worse when he found that she
could speak no language but Dutch, of which he was entirely ignorant;
and that the charms of her conversation were not likely to compensate
for the homeliness of her person. He returned to Greenwich very
melancholy; and he much lamented his hard fate to Cromwell, as well
as to Lord Russel, Sir Anthony Brown, and Sir Anthony Denny. This last
gentleman, in order to give him comfort, told him, that his misfortune
was common to him with all kings, who could not, like private persons,
choose for themselves, but must receive their wives from the judgment
and fancy of others.
It was the subject of debate among the king’s counsellors, whether the
marriage could not yet be dissolved, and the princess be sent back to
her own country. Henry’s situation seemed at that time very critical.
After the ten years’ truce concluded between the emperor and the king
of France, a good understanding was thought to have taken place between
these rival monarchs; and such marks of union appeared, as gave great
jealousy to the court of England. The emperor, who knew the generous
nature of Francis, even put a confidence in him which is rare to that
degree among great princes. An insurrection had been raised in the Low
Countries by the inhabitants of Ghent, and seemed to threaten the most
dangerous consequences. Charles, who resided at that time in Spain,
resolved to go in person to Flanders, in order to appease those
disorders; but he found great difficulties in choosing the manner of his
passing thither. The road by Italy and Germany was tedious: the voyage
through the channel dangerous, by reason of the English naval power:
he asked Francis’s permission to pass through his dominions; and he
entrusted himself into the hands of a rival, whom he had so mortally
offended. The French monarch received him at Paris with great
magnificence and courtesy; and though prompted both by revenge and
interest, as well as by the advice of his mistress and favorites, to
make advantage of the present opportunity, he conducted the emperor
safely out of his dominions and would not so much as speak to him of
business during his abode in France, lest his demands should bear the
air of violence upon his royal guest.
Henry, who was informed of all these particulars, believed that an
entire and cordial union had taken place between these princes; and that
their religious zeal might prompt them to fall with combined arms upon
England.[*] An alliance with the German princes seemed now more than
ever requisite for his interest and safety; and he knew that if he sent
back the princess of Cleves, such an affront would be highly resented by
her friends and family.
* Stowe, p. 579.
{1540.} He was therefore resolved, notwithstanding his aversion to her,
to complete the marriage; and he told Cromwell, that, since matters had
gone so far, he must put his neck into the yoke. Cromwell, who knew how
much his own interests were concerned in this affair, was very anxious
to learn from the king, next morning after the marriage, whether he now
liked his spouse any better. The king told him, that he hated her worse
than ever; and that her person was more disgusting on a near approach;
he was resolved never to meddle with her: and even suspected her not to
be a true maid: a point about which he entertained an extreme delicacy.
He continued, however, to be civil to Anne; he even seemed to repose his
usual confidence in Cromwell; but though he exerted this command over
himself, a discontent lay lurking in his breast, and was ready to burst
out on the first opportunity.
A session of parliament was held; and none of the abbots were now
allowed a place in the house of peers. The king, by the mouth of the
chancellor, complained to the parliament of the great diversity of
religions which still prevailed among his subjects; a grievance, he
affirmed, which ought the less to be endured, because the Scriptures
were now published in English, and ought universally to be the standard
of belief to all mankind. But he had appointed, he said, some bishops
and divines to draw up a list of tenets to which his people were to
assent; and he was determined, that Christ, the doctrine of Christ, and
the truth, should have the victory. The king seems to have expected more
effect in ascertaining truth from this new book of his doctors, than
had ensued from the publication of the Scriptures. Cromwell, as
vicar-general, made also in the king’s name a speech to the upper
house; and the peers, in return, bestowed great flattery on him, and in
particular said, that he was worthy, by his desert, to be vicar-general
of the universe. That minister seemed to be no less in his master’s good
graces: he received, soon after the sitting of the parliament, the title
of earl of Essex, and was installed knight of the garter.
There remained only one religious order in England; the knights of St.
John of Jerusalem, or the knights of Malta, as they are commonly called.
This order, partly ecclesiastical, partly military, had by their valor
done great service to Christendom; and had very much retarded, at
Jerusalem, Rhodes, and Malta, the rapid progress of the barbarians.
During the general surrender of the religious houses in England, they
had exerted their spirit, and had obstinately refused to yield up
their revenues to the king; and Henry, who would endure no society
that professed obedience to the pope, was obliged to have recourse to
parliament for the dissolution of this order. Their revenues were large;
and formed an addition nowise contemptible to the many acquisitions
which the king had already made. But he had very ill husbanded the great
revenue acquired by the plunder of the church: his profuse generosity
dissipated faster than his rapacity could supply; and the parliament was
surprised this session to find a demand made upon them of four tenths,
and a subsidy of one shilling in the pound during two years: so ill
were the public expectations answered, that the crown was never more to
require any supply from the people. The commons, though lavish of their
liberty, and of the blood of their fellow-subjects, were extremely
frugal of their money; and it was not without difficulty so small
a grant could be obtained by this absolute and dreaded monarch. The
convocation gave the king four shillings in the pound to be levied in
two years. The pretext for these grants was, the great expense which
Henry had undergone for the defence of the realm, in building forts
along the seacoast, and in equipping a navy. As he had at present no
ally on the continent in whom he reposed much confidence, he relied only
on his domestic strength, and was on that account obliged to be more
expensive in his preparations against the danger of an invasion.
The king’s favor to Cromwell and his acquiescence in the marriage with
Anne of Cleves, were both of them deceitful appearances: his aversion
to the queen secretly increased every day; and having at last broken all
restraint, it prompted him at once to seek the dissolution of a marriage
so odious to him, and to involve his minister in ruin, who had been
the innocent author of it. The fall of Cromwell was hastened by other
causes. All the nobility hated a man who, being of such low extraction,
had not only mounted above them by his station of vicar-general, but had
engrossed many of the other considerable offices of the crown: besides
enjoying that commission, which gave him a high and almost absolute
authority over the clergy, and even over the laity, he was privy seal,
chamberlain, and master of the wards: he had also obtained the order
of the garter, a dignity which had ever been conferred only on men
of illustrious families, and which seemed to be profaned by its being
communicated to so mean a person. The people were averse to him, as the
supposed author of the violence on the monasteries; establishments which
were still revered and beloved by the commonalty. The Catholics regarded
him as the concealed enemy of their religion: the Protestants, observing
his exterior concurrence with all the persecutions exercised against
them, were inclined to bear him as little favor; and reproached him with
the timidity, if not treachery, of his conduct. And the king, who found
that great clamors had on all hands arisen against the administration,
was not displeased to throw on Cromwell the load of public hatred; and
he hoped, by making so easy a sacrifice, to regain the affections of his
subjects.
But there was another cause which suddenly set all these motives in
action, and brought about an unexpected revolution in the ministry. The
king had fixed his affection on Catharine Howard, niece to the duke of
Norfolk; and being determined to gratify this new passion, he could find
no expedient, but by procuring a divorce from his present consort,
to raise Catharine to his bed and throne. The duke, who had long been
engaged in enmity with Cromwell, made the same use of her insinuations
to ruin this minister, that he had formerly done of Anne Boleyn’s
against Wolsey; and when all engines were prepared, he obtained a
commission from the king to arrest Cromwell at the council table, on an
accusation of high treason, and to commit him to the Tower. Immediately
after a bill of attainder was framed against him; and the house of peers
thought proper, without trial, examination, or evidence, to condemn
to death a man, whom a few days before they had declared worthy to be
vicar-general of the universe. The house of commons passed the bill,
though not without some opposition. Cromwell was accused of heresy
and treason: but the proofs of his treasonable practices are utterly
improbable, and even absolutely ridiculous.[*] The only circumstance of
his conduct by which he seems to have merited this fate, was his being
the instrument of the king’s tyranny in conducting like iniquitous
bills, in the preceding session, against the countess of Salisbury and
others.
Cromwell endeavored to soften the king by the most humble supplications;
but all to no purpose: it was not the practice of that prince to ruin
his ministers and favorites by halves; and though the unhappy prisoner
once wrote to him in so moving a strain as even to draw tears from his
eyes, he hardened himself against all movements of pity, and refused his
pardon. The conclusion of Cromwell’s letter ran in these words: “I, a
most woful prisoner, am ready to submit to death when it shall please
God and your majesty; and yet the frail flesh incites me to call to your
grace for mercy and pardon of mine offences. Written at the Tower, with
the heavy heart and trembling hand of your highness’s most miserable
prisoner and poor slave, Thomas Cromwell.” And a little below, “Most
gracious prince, I cry for mercy, mercy, mercy.”[**]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 278.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 281, 282.
When brought to the place of execution, he avoided all earnest
protestations of his innocence, and all complaints against the sentence
pronounced upon him. He knew that Henry would resent on his son those
symptoms of opposition to his will, and that his death alone would not
terminate that monarch’s vengeance. He was a man of prudence, industry,
and abilities; worthy of a better master and of a better fate. Though
raised to the summit of power from a low origin, he betrayed no
insolence or contempt towards his inferiors; and was careful to remember
all the obligations which, during his more humble fortune, he had owed
to any one. He had served as a private sentinel in the Italian wars;
when he received some good offices from a Lucquese merchant, who had
entirely forgotten his person, as well as the service which he had
rendered him. Cromwell, in his grandeur, happened at London to cast
his eye on his benefactor, now reduced to poverty by misfortunes. He
immediately sent for him, reminded him of their ancient friendship, and
by his grateful assistance reinstated him in his former prosperity and
opulence.[*]
The measures for divorcing Henry from Anne of Cleves were carried on at
the same time with the bill of attainder against Cromwell. The house of
peers, in conjunction with the commons, applied to the king by petition,
desiring that he would allow his marriage to be examined; and orders
were immediately given to lay the matter before the convocation. Anne
had formerly been contracted by her father to the duke of Lorraine, but
she, as well as the duke, were at that time under age, and the contract
had been afterwards annulled by consent of both parties.
The king, however, pleaded this precontract as a ground of divorce; and
he added two reasons more, which may seem a little extraordinary; that,
when he espoused Anne he had not inwardly given his consent, and that he
had not thought proper to consummate the marriage. The convocation was
satisfied with these reasons, and solemnly annulled the marriage
between the king and queen: the parliament ratified the decision of the
clergy;[**] [16] and the sentence was soon after notified to the
princess.
Anne was blest with a happy insensibility of temper, ever in the points
which the most nearly affect her sex; and the king’s aversion towards
her, as well as his prosecution of the divorce, had never given her the
least uneasiness. She willingly hearkened to terms of accommodation with
him; and when he offered to adopt her as his sister, to give her place
next the queen and his own daughter, and to make a settlement of three
thousand pounds a year upon her; she accepted of the conditions, and
gave her consent to the divorce.[***] She even wrote to her brother,
(for her father was now dead,) that she had been very well used in
England, and desired him to live on good terms with the king. The only
instance of pride which she betrayed was, that she refused to return to
her own country after the affront which she had received; and she lived
and died in England.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 172.
** See note P, at the end of the volume.
*** Herbert, p. 458 459.
Notwithstanding Anne’s moderation, this incident produced a great
coldness between the king and the German princes; but as the situation
of Europe was now much altered, Henry was the more indifferent about
their resentment. The close intimacy which had taken place between
Francis and Charles had subsisted during a very short time: the
dissimilarity of their characters soon renewed, with greater violence
than ever, their former jealousy and hatred. While Charles remained at
Paris, Francis had been imprudently engaged, by his open temper, and
by that satisfaction which a noble mind naturally feels in performing
generous actions, to make in confidence some dangerous discoveries to
that interested monarch; and having now lost all suspicion of his rival,
he hoped that the emperor and he, supporting each other, might neglect
every other alliance. He not only communicated to his guest the state
of his negotiations with Sultan Solyman and the Venetians; he also laid
open the solicitations which he had received from the court of England
to enter into a confederacy against him.[*] Charles had no sooner
reached his own dominions, than he showed himself unworthy of the
friendly reception which he had met with. He absolutely refused to
fulfil his promise, and put the duke of Orleans in possession of the
Milanese; he informed Solyman and the senate of Venice of the treatment
which they had received from their ally; and he took care that Henry
should not be ignorant how readily Francis had abandoned his ancient
friend, to whom he owed such important obligations, and had sacrificed
him to a new confederate: he even poisoned and misrepresented many
things which the unsuspecting heart of the French monarch had disclosed
to him. Had Henry possessed true judgment and generosity, this incident
alone had been sufficient to guide him in the choice of his ally. But
his domineering pride carried him immediately to renounce the friendship
of Francis, who had so unexpectedly given the preference to the emperor;
and as Charles invited him to a renewal of ancient amity, he willingly
accepted of the offer; and thinking himself secure in this alliance, he
neglected the friendship both of France and of the German princes.
* Père Daniel. Du Tillet.
The new turn which Henry had taken with regard to foreign affairs was
extremely agreeable to his Catholic subjects; and as it had perhaps
contributed, among other reasons, to the ruin of Cromwell, it made
them entertain hopes of a final prevalence over their antagonists. The
marriage of the king with Catharine Howard, which followed soon after
his divorce from Anne of Cleves, was also regarded as a favorable
incident to their party; and the subsequent events corresponded to their
expectations. The king’s councils being now directed by Norfolk and
Gardiner, a furious persecution commenced against the Protestants; and
the law of the six articles was executed with rigor. Dr. Barnes, who had
been the cause of Lambert’s execution, felt, in his turn, the severity
of the persecuting spirit; and, by a bill which passed in parliament,
he was, without trial, condemned to the flames, together with Jerome and
Gerrard. He discussed theological questions even at the stake; and as
the dispute between him and the sheriff turned upon the invocation of
saints, he said, that he doubted whether the saints could pray for
us; but if they could, he hoped in half an hour to be praying for the
sheriff and all the spectators. He next entreated the sheriff to carry
to the king his dying request, which he fondly imagined would have
authority with that monarch who had sent him to the stake. The purport
of his request was, that Henry, besides repressing superstitious
ceremonies, should be extremely vigilant in preventing fornication and
common swearing.[*]
While Henry was exerting this violence against the Protestants, he
spared not the Catholics who denied his supremacy; and a foreigner, at
that time in England, had reason to say, that those who were against the
pope were burned, and those who were for him were hanged.[**] The king
even displayed in an ostentatious manner this tyrannical impartiality,
which reduced both parties to subjection, and infused terror into every
breast. Barnes, Gerrard, and Jerome had been carried to the place of
execution on three hurdles; and along with them there was placed on
each hurdle a Catholic, who was also executed for his religion. These
Catholics were Abel, Fetherstone, and Powel, who declared, that the
most grievous part of their punishment was the being coupled to such
heretical miscreants as suffered with them.[***]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 298. Fox.
** Fox, vol. ii, p. 529.
*** Saunders, de Schism. Angl.
Though the spirit of the English seemed to be totally sunk under the
despotic power of Henry, there appeared some symptoms of discontent.
An inconsiderable rebellion broke out in Yorkshire, headed by Sir John
Nevil; but it was soon suppressed, and Nevil, with other ringleaders,
was executed.
The rebels were supposed to have been instigated by the intrigues
of Cardinal Pole; and the king was instantly determined to make the
countess of Salisbury, who already lay under sentence of death, suffer
for her son’s offences. He ordered her to be carried to execution;
and this venerable matron maintained still, in these distressful
circumstances, the spirit of that long race of monarchs from whom she
was descended.[*] She refused to lay her head on the block, or submit
to a sentence where she had received no trial. She told the executioner,
that if he would have her head, he must win it the best way he could:
and thus, shaking her venerable gray locks, she ran about the scaffold:
and the executioner followed with his axe, aiming many fruitless blows
at her neck, before he was able to give the fatal stroke. Thus perished
the last of the line of Plantagenet, which, with great glory, but still
greater crimes and misfortunes, had governed England for the space of
three hundred years. Lord Leonard Grey, a man who had formerly rendered
service to the crown, was also beheaded for treason, soon after the
countess of Salisbury. We know little concerning the grounds of his
prosecution.
* Hertert, p. 468.
{1541.} The insurrection in the north engaged Henry to make a progress
thither, in order to quiet the minds of his people, to reconcile them to
his government, and to abolish the ancient superstitions, to which those
parts were much addicted. He had also another motive for this journey:
he purposed to have a conference at York with his nephew the king of
Scotland, and, if possible, to cement a close and indissoluble union
with that kingdom.
The same spirit of religious innovation which had seized other parts
of Europe had made its way into Scotland, and had begun, before this
period, to excite the same jealousies fears, and persecutions. About the
year 1527, Patrick Hamilton, a young man of a noble family, having been
created abbot of Fene, was sent abroad for his education, but had fallen
into company with some reformers; and he returned into his own country
very ill disposed towards that church, on which his birth and his merit
entitled him to attain the highest dignities, The fervor of youth
and his zeal for novelty made it impossible for him to conceal his
sentiments and Campbell, prior of the Dominicans, who, under color of
friendship, and a sympathy in opinion, had insinuated himself into
his confidence, accused him before Beaton, archbishop of St. Andrews.
Hamilton was invited to St. Andrews, in order to maintain with some of
the clergy a dispute concerning the controverted points; and after much
reasoning with regard to justification, free will, original sin, and
other topics of that nature, the conference ended with their condemning
Hamilton to be burned for his errors. The young man, who had been deaf
to the insinuations of ambition, was less likely to be shaken with the
fears of death; while he proposed to himself, both the glory of
bearing testimony to the truth, and the immediate reward attending his
martyrdom. The people, who compassionated his youth, his virtue, and
his noble birth, were much moved at the constancy of his end; and
an incident which soon followed still more confirmed them in their
favorable sentiments towards him. He had cited Campbell, who still
insulted him at the stake, to answer before the judgment seat of Christ;
and as that persecutor, either astonished with these events, or overcome
with remorse, or perhaps seized casually with a distemper, soon after
lost his senses, and fell into a fever, of which he died; the people
regarded Hamilton as a prophet as well as a martyr.[*]
Among the disciples converted by Hamilton, was one friar Forrest, who
became a zealous preacher; and who, though he did not openly discover
his sentiments, was suspected to lean towards the new opinions. His
diocesan, the bishop of Dunkel, enjoined him, when he met with a good
epistle or good gospel, which favored the liberties of holy church, to
preach on it, and let the rest alone. Forrest replied, that he had read
both Old and New Testament, and had not found an ill epistle or ill
gospel in any part of them. The extreme attachment to the Scriptures was
regarded, in those days, as a sure characteristic of heresy; and Forrest
was soon after brought to trial, and condemned to the flames. While the
priests were deliberating on the place of his execution, a bystander
advised them to burn him in a cellar; for that the smoke of Mr. Patrick
Hamilton had infected all those on whom it blew.[**]
* Spotswood’s Hist. of the Church of Scotland, p. 62.
** Spotswood’s Hist. of the Church of Scotland, p. 65.
The clergy were at that time reduced to great difficulties, not only
in Scotland, but all over Europe. As the reformers aimed at a total
subversion of ancient establishments, which they represented as
idolatrous, impious, detestable; the priests, who found both their
honors and properties at stake, thought that they had a right to resist,
by every expedient, these dangerous invaders, and that the same simple
principles of equity which justified a man in killing a pirate or
a robber, would acquit them for the execution of such heretics. A
toleration, though it is never acceptable to ecclesiastics, might,
they said, be admitted in other cases; but seemed an absurdity where
fundamentals were shaken, and where the possessions and even the
existence of the established clergy were brought in danger. But though
the church was thus carried by policy, as well as inclination, to kindle
the fires of persecution, they found the success of this remedy very
precarious; and observed, that the enthusiastic zeal of the reformers,
inflamed by punishment, was apt to prove contagious on the compassionate
minds of the spectators. The new doctrine, amidst all the dangers to
which it was exposed, secretly spread itself every where; and the minds
of men were gradually disposed to a revolution in religion.
But the most dangerous symptom for the clergy in Scotland was, that the
nobility, from the example of England, had cast a wishful eye on the
church revenues, and hoped, if a reformation took place, to enrich
themselves by the plunder of the ecclesiastics. James himself, who was
very poor, and was somewhat inclined to magnificence, particularly in
building, had been swayed by like motives; and began to threaten the
clergy with the same fate that had attended them in the neighboring
country. Henry also never ceased exhorting his nephew to imitate his
example; and being moved, both by the pride of making proselytes, and
the prospect of security, should Scotland embrace a close union with
him, he solicited the king of Scots to meet him at York; and he obtained
a promise to that purpose.
The ecclesiastics were alarmed at this resolution of James, and they
employed every expedient in order to prevent the execution of it. They
represented the danger of innovation; the pernicious consequences of
aggrandizing the nobility, already too powerful; the hazard of putting
himself into the hands of the English, his hereditary enemies; the
dependence on them which must ensue upon his losing the friendship of
France, and of all foreign powers. To those considerations they added
the prospect of immediate interest, by which they found the king to be
much governed: they offered him a present gratuity of fifty thousand
pounds: they promised him that the church should always be ready to
contribute to his supply: and they pointed out to him the confiscation
of heretics, as the means of filling his exchequer, and of adding
a hundred thousand pounds a year to the crown revenues.[*] The
insinuations of his new queen, to whom youth, beauty, and address had
given a powerful influence over him, seconded all these reasons; and
James was at last engaged, first to delay his journey, then to send
excuses to the king of England, who had already come to York in order to
be present at the interview.[**]
* Buchanan, lib. xiv. Drummond in Ja. V. Pitscotie, ibid.
Knox.
** Henry had sent some books, richly ornamented, to his
nephew, who, as soon as he saw by the titles, that they had
a tendency to defend the new doctrines, threw them into the
fire, in the presence of the person who brought them;
adding, it was better he should destroy them, than they him.
See Epist. Reginald Pole, part i. p. 172.
Henry, vexed with the disappointment, and enraged at the affront, vowed
vengeance against his nephew; and he began, by permitting piracies at
sea and incursions at land, to put his threats in execution. But he
received soon after, in his own family, an affront to which he was much
more sensible, and which touched him in a point where he always showed
an extreme delicacy. He had thought himself very happy in his new
marriage: the agreeable person and disposition of Catharine had
entirely captivated his affections; and he made no secret of his devoted
attachment to her. He had even publicly, in his chapel, returned solemn
thanks to Heaven for the felicity which the conjugal state afforded him;
and he directed the bishop of Lincoln to compose a form of prayer
for that purpose. But the queen’s conduct very little merited this
tenderness: one Lascelles brought intelligence of her dissolute life to
Cranmer; and told him that his sister, formerly a servant in the family
of the old duchess of Norfolk, with whom Catharine was educated, had
given him a particular account of her licentious manners. Derham and
Mannoc, both of them servants to the duchess, had been admitted to her
bed; and she had even taken little care to conceal her shame from
the other servants of the family. The primate, struck with this
intelligence, which it was equally dangerous to conceal or to discover,
communicated the matter to the earl of Hertford and to the chancellor.
They agreed, that the matter should by no means be buried in silence;
and the archbishop himself seemed the most proper person to disclose it
to the king. Cranmer, unwilling to speak on so delicate a subject, wrote
a narrative of the whole, and conveyed it to Henry, who was infinitely
astonished at the intelligence. So confident was he of the fidelity of
his consort, that at first he gave no credit to the information; and he
said to the privy-seal, to Lord Russel, high admiral, Sir Anthony Brown,
and Wriothesley, that he regarded the whole as a falsehood. Cranmer was
now in a very perilous situation; and had not full proof been found,
certain and inevitable destruction hung over him. The king’s impatience,
however, and jealousy prompted him to search the matter to the bottom;
the privy-seal was ordered to examine Lascelles, who persisted in the
information he had given; and still appealed to his sister’s testimony.
That nobleman next made a journey, under pretence of hunting, and went
to Sussex, where the woman at that time resided: he found her both
constant in her former intelligence, and particular as to the facts; and
the whole bore but too much the face of probability. Mannoc and Derham,
who were arrested at the same time, and examined by the chancellor, made
the queen’s guilt entirely certain by their confession; and discovered
other particulars, which redounded still more to her dishonor. Three
maids of the family were admitted into her secrets; and some of them
had even passed the night in bed with her and her lovers. All the
examinations were laid before the king, who was so deeply affected, that
he remained a long time speechless, and at last burst into tears. He
found to his surprise, that his great skill in distinguishing a true
maid, of which he boasted in the case of Anne of Cleves, had failed him
in that of his present consort. The queen, being next questioned,
denied her guilt; but when informed that a full discovery was made, she
confessed that she had been criminal before marriage; and only insisted
that she had never been false to the king’s bed. But as there was
evidence that one Colepepper had passed the night with her alone since
her marriage; and as it appeared that she had taken Derham, her old
paramour, into her service, she seemed to deserve little credit in this
asseveration; and the king, besides, was not of a humor to make any
difference between these degrees of guilt.
{1542.} Henry found that he could not by any means so fully or
expeditiously satiate his vengeance on all these criminals as by
assembling a parliament, the usual instrument of his tyranny. The two
houses, having received the queen’s confession, made an address to the
king. They entreated him not to be vexed with this untoward accident, to
which all men were subject; but to consider the frailty of human nature,
and the mutability of human affairs; and from these views to derive a
subject of consolation. They desired leave to pass a bill of attainder
against the queen and her accomplices; and they begged him to give his
assent to this bill, not in person, which would renew his vexation,
and might endanger his health, but by commissioners appointed for that
purpose. And as there was a law in force making it treason to speak ill
of the queen as well as of the king, they craved his royal pardon if any
of them should, on the present occasion, have transgressed any part of
the statute.
Having obtained a gracious answer to these requests, the parliament
proceeded to vote a bill of attainder for treason against the queen, and
the viscountess of Rocheford, who had conducted her secret amours; and
in this bill Colepepper and Derham were also comprehended. At the same
time they passed a bill of attainder for misprision of treason against
the old duchess of Norfolk, Catharine’s grandmother; her uncle, Lord
William Howard, and his lady, together with the countess of Bridgewater,
and nine persons more; because they knew the queen’s vicious course of
life before her marriage, and had concealed it. This was an effect of
Henry’s usual extravagance, to expect that parents should so far forget
the ties of natural affection, and the sentiments of shame and decency,
as to reveal to him the most secret disorders of their family. He
himself seems to have been sensible of the cruelty of this proceeding;
for he pardoned the duchess of Norfolk and most of the others condemned
for misprision of treason.
However, to secure himself for the future, as well as his successors,
from this fatal accident, he engaged the parliament to pass a law
somewhat extraordinary. It was enacted, that any one who knew, or
vehemently suspected, any guilt in the queen, might, within twenty days,
disclose it to the king or council, without incurring the penalty of any
former law against defaming the queen; but prohibiting every one at
the same time, from spreading the matter abroad, or even privately
whispering it to others. It was also enacted, that if the king married
any woman who had been incontinent, taking her for a true maid, she
should be guilty of treason, if she did not previously reveal her guilt
to him. The people made merry with this singular clause, and said that
the king must henceforth look out for a widow; for no reputed maid would
ever be persuaded to incur the penalty of the statute.[*] After all
these laws were passed, the queen was beheaded on Tower Hill, together
with Lady Rocheford. They behaved in a manner suitable to their
dissolute life; and as Lady Rocheford was known to be the chief
instrument in bringing Anne Boleyn to her end, she died unpitied; and
men were further confirmed, by the discovery of this woman’s guilt, in
the favorable sentiments which they had entertained of that unfortunate
queen.
The king made no demand of any subsidy from this parliament; but he
found means of enriching his exchequer from another quarter: he took
further steps towards the dissolution of colleges, hospitals, and other
foundations of that nature. The courtiers had been practising on the
presidents and governors to make a surrender of their revenues to the
king, and they had been successful with eight of them. But there was an
obstacle to their further progress: it had been provided by the local
statutes of most of these foundations, that no president, or any number
of fellows, could consent to such a deed without the unanimous vote
of all the fellows; and this vote was not easily obtained. All such
statutes were annulled by parliament; and the revenues of these houses
were now exposed to the rapacity of the king and his favorites.[**] [17]
The Church had been so long their prey, that nobody was surprised at any
new inroads made upon her. From the regular, Henry now proceeded to make
devastations on the secular clergy. He extorted from many of the bishops
a surrender of chapter lands; and by this device he pillaged the sees
of Canterbury, York, and London, and enriched his greedy parasites and
flatterers with their spoils.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 314.
** See note Q, at the end of the volume.
The clergy have been commonly so fortunate as to make a concern for
their temporal interests go hand in hand with a jealousy for orthodoxy;
and both these passions be regarded by the people, ignorant and
superstitious, as proofs of zeal for religion: but the violent and
headstrong character of Henry now disjoined these objects. His rapacity
was gratified by plundering the church, his bigotry and arrogance by
persecuting heretics. Though he engaged the parliament to mitigate
the penalties of the six articles, so far as regards the marriage
of priests, which was now only subjected to a forfeiture of goods,
chattels, and lands during life, he was still equally bent on
maintaining a rigid purity in speculative principles. He had appointed
a commission, consisting of the two archbishops and several bishops
of both provinces, together with a considerable number of doctors of
divinity; and by virtue of his ecclesiastical supremacy, he had
given them in charge to choose a religion for his people. Before the
commissioners had made any progress in this arduous undertaking, the
parliament, in 1541, had passed a law by which they ratified all the
tenets which these divines should thereafter establish with the king’s
consent: and they were not ashamed of thus expressly declaring that they
took their religion upon trust, and had no other rule, in spiritual
as well as temporal concerns, than the arbitrary will of their master.
There is only one clause of the statute which may seem at first sight
to savor somewhat of the spirit of liberty: it was enacted, that the
ecclesiastical commissioners should establish nothing repugnant to the
laws and statutes of the realm. But in reality this proviso was inserted
by the king to serve his own purposes. By introducing a confusion and
contradiction into the laws, he became more master of every one’s life
and property. And as the ancient independence of the church still gave
him jealousy, he was well pleased, undercover of such a clause, to
introduce appeals from the spiritual to the civil courts. It was for a
like reason that he would never promulgate a body of canon law; and he
encouraged the judges on all occasions to interpose in ecclesiastical
causes, wherever they thought the law of royal prerogative concerned; a
happy innovation, though at first invented for arbitrary purposes.
The king, armed by the authority of parliament, or rather by their
acknowledgment of that spiritual supremacy which he believed inherent
in him, employed his commissioners to select a system of tenets for
the assent and belief of the nation. A small volume was soon after
published, called the Institution of a Christian Man, which was received
by the convocation, and voted to be the standard of orthodoxy. All the
delicate points of justification, faith, free will, good works, and
grace, are there defined, with a leaning towards the opinion of the
reformers: the sacraments, which a few years before were only allowed to
be three, were now increased to the number of seven, conformable to
the sentiments of the Catholics. The king’s caprice is discernible
throughout the whole; and the book is in reality to be regarded as his
composition. For Henry while he made his opinion a rule for the nation,
would tie his own hands by no canon or authority, not even by any which
he himself had formerly established.
The people had occasion soon after to see a further instance of the
king’s inconstancy. He was not long satisfied with his Institution of
a Christian Man: he ordered a new book to be composed, called the
Erudition of a Christian Man; and without asking the assent of the
convocation, he published, by his own authority and that of the
parliament, this new model of orthodoxy. It differs from the
Institution;[*] but the king was no less positive in his new creed than
he had been in the old; and he required the belief of the nation to veer
about at his signal. In both these compositions, he was particularly
careful to inculcate the doctrine of passive obedience; and he was
equally careful to retain the nation in the practice.
While the king was spreading his own books among the people, he seems to
have been extremely perplexed, as were also the clergy, what course to
take with the Scriptures. A review had been made by the synod of the
new translation of the Bible; and Gardiner had proposed that, instead
of employing English expressions throughout, several Latin words should
still be preserved; because they contained, as he pretended, such
peculiar energy and significance, that they had no correspondent terms
in the vulgar tongue.[**] Among these were “ecclesia, poenitentia,
pontifex, contritus, holocausta, sacramentum, elementa, ceremonia,
mysterium, presbyter, sacrificium, humilitas, satisfactio, peccatum,
gratia, hostia, charitos,” etc. But as this mixture would have appeared
extremely barbarous, and was plainly calculated for no other purpose
than to retain the people in their ancient ignorance, the proposal
was rejected. The knowledge of the people, however, at least their
disputative turn, seemed to be an inconvenience still more dangerous;
and the king and parliament,[***] soon after the publication of the
Scriptures retracted the concession which they had formerly made; and
prohibited all but gentlemen and merchants from perusing them[****].
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 190.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 315.
*** Which met on the 22d of January, 1543.
**** 33 Henry VIII. c 1. The reading of the Bible, however,
could not at that time have much effect in England, where so
few persons had learned to read. There were but five hundred
copies printed of this first authorized edition of the
Bible; a book of which there are now several millions of
copies in the kingdom.
Even that liberty was not granted without an apparent hesitation, and a
dread of the consequences: these persons were allowed to read, “so it
be done quietly and with good order.” And the preamble to the act sets
forth “that many seditious and ignorant persons had abused the liberty
granted them of reading the Bible, and that great diversity of opinion,
animosities, tumults, and schisms had been occasioned by perverting
the sense of the Scriptures.” It seemed very difficult to reconcile the
king’s model for uniformity with the permission of free inquiry.
The mass book also passed under the king’s revisal; and little
alteration was as yet made in it: some doubtful or fictious saints
only were struck out; and the name of the pope was erased. This latter
precaution was likewise used with regard to every new book that was
printed, or even old book that was sold. The word “pope” was carefully
omitted or blotted out;[*] as if that precaution could abolish the term
from the language, or as if such a persecution of it did not rather
imprint it more strongly in the memory of the people.
The king took care about this time to clear the churches from another
abuse which had crept into them. Plays, interludes, and farces were
there often acted in derision of the former superstitions; and the
reverence of the multitude for ancient principles and modes of worship
was thereby gradually effaced.[**] We do not hear that the Catholics
attempted to retaliate by employing this powerful engine against their
adversaries, or endeavored by like arts to expose that fanatical spirit
by which it appears the reformers were frequently actuated. Perhaps
the people were not disposed to relish a jest on that side: perhaps
the greater simplicity and the more spiritual abstract worship of the
Protestants gave less hold to ridicule, which is commonly founded on
sensible representations. It was, therefore, a very agreeable concession
which the king made to the Catholic party, to suppress entirely these
religious comedies.
* Parl. Hist. vol. iii. p. 113.
** Burnet, vol. i p. 318.
Thus Henry labored incessantly by arguments, creeds, and penal statutes,
to bring his subjects to a uniformity in their religious sentiments:
but as he entered himself with the greatest earnestness into all those
scholastic disputes, he encouraged the people by his example to apply
themselves to the study of theology; and it was in vain afterwards to
expect, however present fear might restrain their tongues or pens, that
they would cordially agree in any set of tenets or opinions prescribed
to them.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
HENRY VIII.
{1542.} Henry, being determined to avenge himself on the king of Scots
for slighting the advances which he had made him, would gladly
have obtained a supply from parliament, in order to prosecute that
enterprise; but as he did not think it prudent to discover his
intentions, that assembly, conformably to their frugal maxims, would
understand no hints; and the king was disappointed in his expectations.
He continued, however, to make preparations for war; and as soon as
he thought himself in a condition to invade Scotland, he published a
manifesto, by which he endeavored to justify hostilities. He complained
of James’s breach of word in declining the promised interview, which was
the real ground of the quarrel;[*] but in order to give a more specious
coloring to the enterprise, he mentioned other injuries; namely, that
his nephew had granted protection to some English rebels and fugitives,
and had detained some territory which, Henry pretended, belonged to
England. He even revived the old claim to the vassalage of Scotland, and
he summoned James to do homage to him as his liege lord and superior. He
employed the duke of Norfolk, whom he called the scourge of the Scots,
to command in the war: and though James sent the bishop of Aberdeen, and
Sir James Learmont of Darsay, to appease his uncle, he would hearken to
no terms of accommodation.
* Buchanan lib xiv. Drummond in Ja. V.
While Norfolk was assembling his army at Newcastle, Sir Robert Bowes,
attended by Sir Ralph Sadler, Sir Ralph Evers, Sir Brian Latoun, and
others, made an incursion into Scotland, and advanced towards Jedburgh,
with an intention of pillaging and destroying that town. The earl of
Angus, and George Douglas, his brother, who had been many years banished
their country, and had subsisted by Henry’s bounty, joined the English
army in this incursion, and the forces commanded by Bowes exceeded
four thousand men. James had not been negligent in his preparations for
defence, and had posted a considerable body, under the command of the
earl of Huntley, for the protection of the borders. Lord Hume, at the
head of his vassals, was hastening to join Huntley, when he met with the
English army; and an action immediately ensued. During the engagement,
the forces under Huntley began to appear; and the English, afraid of
being surrounded and overpowered, took to flight, and were pursued by
the enemy. Evers, Latoun, and some other persons of distinction, were
taken prisoners. A few only of small note fell in the skirmish.[*]
The duke of Norfolk, meanwhile, began to move from his camp at
Newcastle; and being attended by the earls of Shrewsbury, Derby,
Cumberland, Surrey, Hertford, Rutland, with many others of the nobility,
he advanced to the borders. His forces amounted to above twenty thousand
men; and it required the utmost efforts of Scotland to resist such a
formidable armament. James had assembled his whole military force at
Fala and Sautrey, and was ready to advance as soon as he should be
informed of Norfolk’s invading his kingdom. The English passed the Tweed
at Berwick, and marched along the banks of the river as far as Kelso;
but hearing that James had collected near thirty thousand men, they
repassed the river at that village, and retreated into their own
country.[**] The king of Scots, inflamed with a desire of military
glory, and of revenge on his invaders, gave the signal for pursuing
them, and carrying the war into England. He was surprised to find
that his nobility, who were in general disaffected on account of the
preference which he had given to the clergy, opposed this resolution,
and refused to attend him in his projected enterprise. Enraged at this
mutiny, he reproached them with cowardice, and threatened vengeance;
but still resolved, with the forces which adhered to him, to make
an impression on the enemy. He sent ten thousand men to the western
borders, who entered England at Solway Frith; and he himself followed
them at a small distance, ready to join them upon occasion. Disgusted,
however, at the refractory disposition of his nobles, he sent a message
to the army depriving Lord Maxwel, their general, of his commission, and
conferring the command on Oliver Sinclair, a private gentleman, who was
his favorite. The army was extremely disgusted with this alteration,
and was ready to disband, when a small body of English appeared, not
exceeding five hundred men, under the command of Dacres and Musgrave. A
panic seized the Scots, who immediately took to flight, and were pursued
by the enemy. Few were killed in this rout; for it was no action; but
a great many were taken prisoners, and some of the principal nobility:
among these, the earls of Cassilis and Glencairn, the lords Maxwel,
Fleming, Somerville, Oliphant, Grey, who were all sent to London, and
given in custody to different noblemen.
* Buchanan, lib. xiv.
** Buchanan, lib. xiv.
The king of Scots, hearing of this disaster, was astonished; and being
naturally of a melancholic disposition, as well as endowed with a high
spirit, he lost all command of his temper on this dismal occasion. Rage
against his nobility, who, he believed, had betrayed him; shame for a
defeat by such unequal numbers; regret for the past, fear of the future;
all these passions so wrought upon him, that he would admit of no
consolation, but abandoned himself wholly to despair. His body was
wasted by sympathy with his anxious mind; and even his life began to be
thought in danger. He had no issue living; and hearing that his queen
was safely delivered, he asked whether she had brought him a male or a
female child. Being told the latter, he turned himself in his bed:
“The crown came with a woman,” said he, “and it will go with one: many
miseries await this poor kingdom: Henry will make it his own either
by force of arms or by marriage.” A few days after, he expired, in the
flower of his age: a prince of considerable virtues and talents; well
fitted, by his vigilance and personal courage, for repressing those
disorders to which his kingdom, during that age, was so much exposed.
He executed justice with impartiality and rigor; but as he supported the
commonalty and the church against the rapine of the nobility, he escaped
not the hatred of that order. The Protestants also, whom he opposed,
have endeavored to throw many stains on his memory; but have not been
able to fix any considerable imputation upon him.[*]
{1543.} Henry was no sooner informed of his victory and of the death
of his nephew, than he projected, as James had foreseen, the scheme of
uniting Scotland to his own dominions by marrying his son Edward to the
heiress of that kingdom.[**] [18]
* See note R, at the end of the volume.
** Stowe, p. 584. Herbert. Burnet. Buchanan.
He called together the Scottish nobles who were his prisoners and after
reproaching them, in severe terms, for their pretended breach of treaty,
he began to soften his tone, and proposed to them this expedient, by
which, he hoped, those disorders so prejudicial to both states, would
for the future be prevented. He offered to bestow on them their liberty
without ransom; and only required of them engagements to favor the
marriage of the prince of Wales with their young mistress. They were
easily prevailed on to give their assent to a proposal which seemed so
natural and so advantageous to both kingdoms; and being conducted to
Newcastle, they delivered to the duke of Norfolk hostages for their
return, in case the intended nuptials were not completed; and they
thence proceeded to Scotland, where they found affairs in some
confusion.
The pope, observing his authority in Scotland to be in danger from the
spreading of the new opinions, had bestowed on Beaton, the primate, the
dignity of cardinal, in order to confer more influence upon him; and
that prelate had long been regarded as prime minister to James, and
as the head of that party which defended the ancient privileges and
property of the ecclesiastics. Upon the death of his master, this man,
apprehensive of the consequences both to his party and to himself,
endeavored to keep possession of power; and for that purpose he is
accused of executing a deed which required a high degree of temerity.
He forged, it is said, a will for the king, appointing himself and three
noblemen more regents of the kingdom during the minority of the infant
princess:[*] at least,--for historians are not well agreed in the
circumstances of the fact,--he had read to James a paper of that import,
to which that monarch, during the delirium which preceded his death, had
given an imperfect assent and approbation.[**] By virtue of this will,
Beaton had put himself in possession of the government; and having
united his interests with those of the queen dowager, he obtained the
consent of the convention of states, and excluded the pretensions of the
earl of Arran.
* Sadler’s Letters, p. 161. Spotswood, p. 71. Buchanan, lib.
xv.
** John Knox, Hist. of the Reformation.
James, earl of Arran, of the name of Hamilton, was next heir to the
crown by his grandmother, daughter of James III.; and on that account
seemed best entitled to possess that high office into which the cardinal
had intruded himself. The prospect also of his succession after a
princess who was in such tender infancy, procured him many partisans;
and though his character indicated little spirit, activity, or ambition,
a propensity which he had discovered for the new opinions had attached
to him all the zealous promoters of those innovations. By means of these
adherents, joined to the vassals of his own family, he had been able to
make opposition to the cardinal’s administration; and the suspicion
of Beaton’s forgery, with the accession of the noblemen who had been
prisoners in England, assisted too by some money sent from London,
was able to turn the balance in his favor. The earl of Angus and his
brother, having taken the present opportunity of returning into their
native country, opposed the cardinal with all the credit of that
powerful family; and the majority of the convention had now embraced
opposite interests to those which formerly prevailed. Arran was declared
governor; the cardinal was committed to custody under the care of
Lord Seton; and a negotiation was commenced with Sir Ralph Sadler, the
English ambassador, for the marriage of the infant queen with the prince
of Wales. The following conditions were quickly agreed on: that the
queen should remain in Scotland till she should be ten years of age;
that she should then be sent to England to be educated; that six
Scottish noblemen should immediately be delivered as hostages to Henry;
and that the kingdom, notwithstanding its union with England, should
still retain its laws and privileges.[*] By means of these equitable
conditions, the war between the nations, which had threatened Scotland
with such dismal calamities, seemed to be fully composed, and to be
changed into perpetual concord and amity.
But the cardinal primate, having prevailed on Seton to restore him to
his liberty, was able, by his intrigues, to confound all these measures,
which appeared so well concerted. He assembled the most considerable
ecclesiastics; and having represented to them the imminent danger to
which their revenues and privileges were exposed, he persuaded them to
collect privately from the clergy a large sum of money, by which, if
intrusted to his management, he engaged to overturn the schemes of
their enemies.[**] Besides the partisans whom he acquired by pecuniary
motives, he roused up the zeal of those who were attached to the
Catholic worship; and he represented the union with England as the sure
forerunner of ruin to the church and to the ancient religion.
* Sir Ralph Sadler’s Letters.
** Buchanan, lib. xv.
The nations antipathy of the Scots to their southern neighbors was also
an infallible engine by which the cardinal wrought upon the people;
and though the terror of Henry’s arms, and their own inability to make
resistance, had procured a temporary assent to the alliance and marriage
proposed, the settled habits of the nation produced an extreme aversion
to those measures. The English ambassador and his retinue received many
insults from persons whom the cardinal had instigated to commit those
violences, in hopes of bringing on a rupture; but Sadler prudently
dissembled the matter, and waited patiently till the day appointed
for the delivery of the hostages. He then demanded of the regent the
performance of that important article; but received for answer, that his
authority was very precarious, that the nation had now taken a different
impression, and that it was not in his power to compel any of the
nobility to deliver themselves as hostages to the English. Sadler,
foreseeing the consequence of this refusal, sent a summons to all those
who had been prisoners in England, and required them to fulfil the
promise which they had given of returning into custody. None of them
showed so much sentiment of honor as to fulfil their engagements, except
Gilbert Kennedy, earl of Cassilis. Henry was so well pleased with the
behavior of this nobleman, that he not only received him graciously, but
honored him with presents, gave him his liberty, and sent him back to
Scotland, with his two brothers, whom he had left as hostages.[*]
* Buchanan, lib. xv.
This behavior of the Scottish nobles, though it reflected dishonor on
the nation, was not disagreeable to the cardinal, who foresaw that all
these persons would now be deeply interested to maintain their enmity
and opposition to England. And as a war was soon expected with that
kingdom, he found it necessary immediately to apply to France, and to
crave the assistance of that ancient ally, during the present distresses
of the Scottish nation. Though the French king was fully sensible of
his interest in supporting Scotland, a demand of aid could not have
been made on him at a more unseasonable juncture. His pretensions on the
Milanese, and his resentment against Charles, had engaged him in a war
with that potentate; and having made great, though fruitless efforts
during the preceding campaign, he was the more disabled at present from
defending his own dominions, much more from granting any succor to
the Scots. Matthew Stewart, earl of Lenox, a young nobleman of a
great family, was at that time in the French court; and Francis, being
informed that he was engaged in ancient and hereditary enmity with the
Hamiltons, who had murdered his father, sent him over to his native
country, as a support to the cardinal and the queen mother: and he
promised that a supply of money, and, if necessary, even military
succors, should soon be despatched after him. Arran, the governor,
seeing all these preparations against him, assembled his friends, and
made an attempt to get the person of the infant queen into his custody;
but being repulsed, he was obliged to come to an accommodation with his
enemies, and to intrust that precious charge to four neutral persons,
the heads of potent families, the Grahams, Areskines, Lindseys, and
Levingstones. The arrival of Lenox, in the midst of these transactions,
served to render the victory of the French party over the English still
more undisputable.[*]
The opposition which Henry met with in Scotland from the French
intrigues, excited his resentment, and further confirmed the resolution
which he had already taken of breaking with France, and of uniting
his arms with those of the emperor. He had other grounds of complaint
against the French king; which, though not of great importance, yet
being recent, were able to overbalance those great injuries which he had
formerly received from Charles. He pretended that Francis had engaged to
imitate his example in separating himself entirely from the see of
Rome, and that he had broken his promise in that particular. He was
dissatisfied that James, his nephew, had been allowed to marry, first
Magdalene of France, then a princess of the house of Guise; and
he considered these alliances as pledges which Francis gave of his
intentions to support the Scots against the power of England.[**] He had
been informed of some railleries which the French king had thrown out
against his conduct with regard to his wives. He was disgusted that
Francis, after so many obligations which he owed him, had sacrificed
him to the emperor; and, in the confidence of friendship, had rashly
revealed his secrets to that subtle and interested monarch. And he
complained that regular payments were never made of the sums due to him
by France, and of the pension which had been stipulated. Impelled by
all these motives, he alienated himself from his ancient friend and
confederate, and formed a league with the emperor, who earnestly courted
his alliance.
* Buchanan, lib. xv. Drummond.
** Pere Daniel.
This league, besides stipulations for mutual defence, contained a plan
for invading France; and the two monarchs agreed to enter Francis’s
dominions with an army, each of twenty-five thousand men; and to require
that prince to pay Henry all the sums which he owed him, and to consign
Boulogne, Montreuil, Terouenne, and Ardres, as a security for the
regular payment of his pension for the future: in case these conditions
were rejected, the confederate princes agreed to challenge, for Henry,
the crown of France, or, in default of it, the duchies of Normandy,
Aquitaine, and Guienne; for Charles the duchy of Burgundy, and some
other territories.[*] That they might have a pretence for enforcing
these claims, they sent a message to Francis, requiring him to renounce
his alliance with Sultan Solyman, and to make reparation for all
the prejudice which Christendom had sustained from that unnatural
confederacy. Upon the French king’s refusal, war was declared against
him by the allies. It may be proper to remark, that the partisans
of France objected to Charles’s alliance with the heretical king of
England, as no less obnoxious than that which Francis had contracted
with Solyman: and they observed, that this league was a breach of the
solemn promise which he had given to Clement VII., never to make peace
or alliance with England.
While the treaty with the emperor was negotiating, the king summoned a
new session of parliament, in order to obtain supplies for his projected
war with France. The parliament granted him a subsidy, to be paid in
three years; it was levied in a peculiar manner; but exceeded not three
shillings in the pound upon any individual.[**]
* Rymer, vol. xiv. p. 768; vol. xv. p. 2.
** They who were worth, in goods, twenty shillings and
upwards to five pounds, paid fourpence of every pound; from
five pounds to ten pounds, eightpence; from ten pounds to
twenty pounds, sixteen pence; from twenty and upwards, two
shillings. Lands, fees, and annuities, from twenty shillings
to five pounds, paid eightpence in the pound; from five
pounds to ten pounds, sixteen pence; from ten pounds to
twenty pounds, two shillings; from twenty pounds and
upwards, three shillings.
The convocation gave the king six shillings in the pound, to be levied
in three years. Greater sums were always, even during the establishment
of the Catholic religion, exacted from the clergy than from the
laity; which made the emperor Charles say, when Henry dissolved the
monasteries, and sold their revenues, or bestowed them on his nobility
and courtiers, that he had killed the hen which brought him the golden
eggs.[*]
The parliament also facilitated the execution of the former law by which
the king’s proclamations were made equal to statutes: they appointed
that any nine counsellors should form a legal court for punishing all
disobedience to proclamations. The total abolition of juries in criminal
causes, as well as on all parliaments, seemed, if the king had so
pleased, the necessary consequence of this enormous law. He might
issue a proclamation enjoining the execution of any penal statute, and
afterwards try the criminals, not for breach of the statute, but for
disobedience to his proclamation. It is remarkable, that Lord Mountjoy
entered a protest against this law; and it is equally remarkable that
that protest is the only one entered against any public bill during this
whole reign.[**]
It was enacted[***] this session, that any spiritual person who preached
or taught contrary to the doctrine contained in the king’s book, the
Erudition of a Christian Man, or contrary to any doctrine which he
should thereafter promulgate, was to be admitted on the first conviction
to renounce his error; on the second, he was required to carry a fagot;
which if he refused to do, or fell into a third offence, he was to be
burnt. But the laity, for the third offence, were only to forfeit their
goods and chattels, and be liable to perpetual imprisonment. Indictments
must be laid within a year after the offence, and the prisoner was
allowed to bring witnesses for his exculpation. These penalties were
lighter than those which were formerly imposed on a denial of the real
presence: it was, however, subjoined in this statute, that the act of
the six articles was still in force. But in order to make the king more
entirely master of his people, it was enacted, that he might hereafter,
at his pleasure, change this act, or any provision in it. By this
clause, both parties were retained in subjection: so far as regarded
religion, the king was invested, in the fullest manner, with the sole
legislative authority in his kingdom; and all his subjects were, under
the severest penalties, expressly bound to receive implicitly whatever
doctrine he should please to recommend to them.
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 176.
** Burnet, vol. i. p. 322.
*** 34 and 35 Henry VIII. c. 1.
The reformers began to entertain hopes that this great power of the
crown might still be employed in their favor. The king married Catharine
Par, widow of Nevil, Lord Latimer; a woman of virtue, and somewhat
inclined to the new doctrine. By this marriage Henry confirmed what had
formerly been foretold in jest, that he would be obliged to espouse a
widow. The king’s league with the emperor seemed a circumstance no less
favorable to the Catholic party; and thus matters remained still nearly
balanced between the factions.
The advantages gained by this powerful confederacy between Henry and
Charles, were inconsiderable during the present year. The campaign was
opened with a victory gained by the duke of Cleves, Francis’s ally, over
the forces of the emperor:[*] Francis, in person, took the field early;
and made himself master, without resistance, of the whole duchy of
Luxembourg: he afterwards took Landrecy, and added some fortifications
to it. Charles, having at last assembled a powerful army, appeared in
the Low Countries; and after taking almost every fortress in the duchy
of Cleves, he reduced the duke to accept of the terms which he was
pleased to prescribe to him. Being then joined by a body of six thousand
English, he sat down before Landrecy, and covered the siege with an army
of above forty thousand men. Francis advanced at the head of an army not
much inferior; as if he intended to give the emperor battle, or oblige
him to raise the siege: but while these two rival monarchs were facing
each other, and all men were in expectation of some great event, the
French king found means of throwing succor into Landrecy; and having
thus effected his purpose, he skilfully made a retreat. Charles, finding
the season far advanced, despaired of success in his enterprise, and
found it necessary to go into winter quarters.
* Mém. du Bellai, lib. x.
The vanity of Henry was flattered by the figure which he made in the
great transactions on the continent; but the interests of his kingdom
were more deeply concerned in the event of affairs in Scotland. Arran,
the governor, was of so indolent and unambitious a character, that,
had he not been stimulated by his friends and dependants, he never had
aspired to any share in the administration; and when he found himself
overpowered by the party of the queen dowager, the cardinal, and the
earl of Lenox, he was glad to accept of any terms of accommodation,
however dishonorable. He even gave them a sure pledge of his sincerity,
by renouncing the principles of the reformers, and reconciling himself
to the Romish communion in the Franciscan church at Stirling. By this
weakness and levity, he lost his credit with the whole nation, and
rendered the Protestants, who were hitherto the chief support of his
power, his mortal enemies. The cardinal acquired an entire ascendant in
the kingdom: the queen dowager placed implicit confidence in him: the
governor was obliged to yield to him in every pretension: Lenox
alone was become an obstacle to his measures, and reduced him to some
difficulty.
The inveterate enmity which had taken place between the families of
Lenox and Arran, made the interests of these two noblemen entirely
incompatible; and as the cardinal and the French party, in order to
engage Lenox the more in their cause, had flattered him with the hopes
of succeeding to the crown after their infant sovereign, this rivalship
had tended still further to rouse the animosity of the Hamiltons. Lenox,
too, had been encouraged to aspire to the marriage of the queen dowager,
which would have given him some pretensions to the regency; and as he
was become assuming, on account of the services which he had rendered
the party, the cardinal found that, since he must choose between the
friendship of Lenox and that of Arran, the latter nobleman, who was more
easily governed, and who was invested with present authority, was in
every respect preferable. Lenox, finding that he was not likely to
succeed in his pretensions to the queen dowager, and that Arran, favored
by the cardinal, had acquired the ascendant, retired to Dunbarton, the
governor of which was entirely at his devotion; he entered into a secret
correspondence with the English court; and he summoned his vassals and
partisans to attend him. All those who were inclined to the Protestant
religion, or were on any account discontented with the cardinal’s
administration, now regarded Lenox as the head of their party, and they
readily made him a tender of their services. In a little time he had
collected an army of ten thousand men, and he threatened his enemies
with immediate destruction. The cardinal had no equal force to oppose to
him; but as he was a prudent man, he foresaw that Lenox could not long
subsist so great an army, and he endeavored to gain time by opening a
negotiation with him. He seduced his followers by various artifices; he
prevailed on the Douglases to change party; he represented to the whole
nation the danger of civil wars and commotions; and Lenox, observing the
unequal contest in which he was engaged, was at last obliged to lay down
his arms, and to accept of an accommodation with the governor and the
cardinal. Present peace was restored; but no confidence took place
between the parties. Lenox, fortifying his castles, and putting himself
in a posture of defence, waited the arrival of English succors, from
whose assistance alone he expected to obtain the superiority over his
enemies.
{1544.} While the winter season restrained Henry from military
operations, he summoned a new parliament, in which a law was passed,
such as he was pleased to dictate, with regard to the succession of the
crown. After declaring that the prince of Wales, or any of the king’s
male issue, were first and immediate heirs to the crown, the parliament
restored the two princesses, Mary and Elizabeth, to their right of
succession. This seemed a reasonable piece of justice, and corrected
what the king’s former violence had thrown into confusion; but it was
impossible for Henry to do any thing, how laudable soever, without
betraying, in some circumstance, his usual extravagance and caprice:
though he opened the way for these two princesses to mount the throne,
he would not allow the acts to be reversed which had declared them
illegitimate; he made the parliament confer on him a power of still
excluding them, if they refused to submit to any conditions which he
should be pleased to impose; and he required them to enact, that, in
default of his own issue, he might dispose of the crown as he pleased,
by will or letters-patent. He did not probably foresee that, in
proportion as he degraded the parliament, by rendering it the passive
instrument of his variable and violent inclinations, he taught the
people to regard all its acts as invalid, and thereby defeated even the
purposes which he was so bent to attain.
An act passed, declaring that the king’s usual style should be “king of
England, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, and on earth the
supreme head of the church of England and Ireland.” It seemed a palpable
inconsistency to retain the title of defender of the faith, which the
court of Rome had conferred on him for maintaining its cause against
Luther; and yet subjoin his ecclesiastical supremacy, in opposition to
the claims of that court.
An act also passed for the remission of the debt which the king had
lately contracted by a general loan levied upon the people. It will
easily be believed, that after the former act of this kind, the loan
was not entirely voluntary.[*] But there was a peculiar circumstance
attending the present statute, which none but Henry would have thought
of; namely, that those who had already gotten payment, either in whole
or in part, should refund the money to the exchequer.
The oaths which Henry imposed for the security of his ecclesiastical
model, were not more reasonable than his other measures. All his
subjects of any distinction had already been obliged to renounce the
pope’s supremacy; but as the clauses to which they swore had not been
deemed entirely satisfactory, another oath was imposed; and it
was added, that all those who had taken the former oaths should be
understood to have taken the new one;[**] a strange supposition to
represent men as bound by an oath which they had never taken.
* 35 Henry VII. c. 12.
** 35 Henry VII c. 1.
The most commendable law to which the parliament gave their sanction,
was that by which they mitigated the law of the six articles, and
enacted, that no person should be put to his trial upon an accusation
concerning any of the offences comprised in that sanguinary statute,
except on the oath of twelve persons before commissioners authorized for
the purpose; and that no person should be arrested or committed to ward
for any such offence before he was indicted. Any preacher accused of
speaking in his sermon contrary to these articles, must be indicted
within forty days.
The king always experienced the limits of his authority whenever
he demanded subsidies, however moderate, from the parliament; and
therefore, not to hazard a refusal, he made no mention this session of
a supply: but as his wars both in France and Scotland, as well as his
usual prodigality, had involved him in great expense, he had resource
to other methods of filling his exchequer. Notwithstanding the former
abolition of his debts, he yet required new loans from his subjects; and
he enhanced gold from forty-five shillings to forty-eight an ounce,
and silver from three shillings and nine-pence to four shillings.
His pretence for this innovation was, to prevent the money from being
exported; as if that expedient could anywise serve the purpose. He even
coined some base money, and ordered it to be current by proclamation.
He named commissioners for levying a benevolence, and he extorted about
seventy thousand pounds by this expedient. Read, alderman of London,[*]
a man somewhat advanced in years, having refused to contribute, or not
coming up to the expectation of the commissioners, was enrolled as a
foot soldier in the Scottish wars, and was there taken prisoner. Roach,
who had been equally refractory, was thrown into prison, and obtained
not his liberty but by paying a large composition.[**] These powers
of the prerogative, (which at that time passed unquestioned,) the
compelling of any man to serve in any office, and the imprisoning of
any man during pleasure, not to mention the practice of extorting loans,
rendered the sovereign in a manner absolute master of the person and
property of every individual.
Early this year the king sent a fleet and army to invade Scotland. The
fleet consisted of near two hundred vessels, and carried on board ten
thousand men. Dudley, Lord Lisle, commanded the sea forces; the earl
of Hertford the land. The troops were disembarked near Leith; and after
dispersing a small body which opposed them, they took that town without
resistance, and then marched to Edinburgh. The gates were soon beaten
down, (for little or no resistance was made,) and the English first
pillaged, and then set fire to the city. The regent and cardinal were
not prepared to oppose so great a force, and they fled to Stirling.
Hertford marched eastward; and being joined by a new body under Evers,
warden of the east marches, he laid waste the whole country, burned and
destroyed Haddington and Dunbar, then retreated into England; having
lost only forty men in the whole expedition. The earl of Arran collected
some forces; but finding that the English were already departed, he
turned them against Lenox, who was justly suspected of a correspondence
with the enemy. That nobleman, after making some resistance, was obliged
to fly into England, where Henry settled a pension on him, and even
gave him his niece, lady Margaret Douglas, in marriage. In return, Lenox
stipulated conditions, by which, had he been able to execute them, he
must have reduced his country to total servitude.[***]
* Herbert. Stowe, p. 588. Baker, p. 292.
** Goodwin’s Annals. Stowe, p. 588.
*** Rymer, vol. xv. p. 28, 29.
Henry’s policy was blamed in this sudden and violent incursion, by which
he inflamed the passions of the Scots, without subduing their spirit;
and it was commonly said, that he did too much, if he intended to
solicit an alliance, and too little, if he meant a conquest.[*] But the
reason of his recalling the troops so soon, was his eagerness to carry
on a projected enterprise against France, in which he intended to
employ the whole force of his kingdom. He had concerted a plan with the
emperor, which threatened the total ruin of that monarchy, and must, as
a necessary consequence, have involved the ruin of England. These two
princes had agreed to invade France with forces amounting to above a
hundred thousand men: Henry engaged to set out from Calais; Charles from
the Low Countries: they were to enter on no siege; but leaving all the
frontier towns behind them, to march directly to Paris, where they were
to join their forces, and thence to proceed to the entire conquest of
the kingdom. Francis could not oppose to these formidable preparations
much above forty thousand men.
* Herbert. Burnet.
Henry, having appointed the queen regent during his absence, passed over
to Calais with thirty thousand men, accompanied by the dukes of Norfolk
and Suffolk, Fitzalan earl of Arundel, Vere earl of Oxford, the earl of
Surrey, Paulet Lord St. John, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Lord Mountjoy,
Lord Grey of Wilton, Sir Anthony Brown, Sir Francis Bryan, and the most
flourishing nobility and gentry of his kingdom. The English army
was soon joined by the count de Buren, admiral of Flanders, with ten
thousand foot and four thousand horse; and the whole composed an army
which nothing on that frontier was able to resist. The chief force of
the French armies was drawn to the side of Champagne, in order to oppose
the imperialists.
The emperor, with an army of near sixty thousand men, had taken the
field much earlier than Henry; and not to lose time while he waited for
the arrival of his confederate, he sat down before Luxembourg, which was
surrendered to him: he thence proceeded to Commercy, on the Meuse, which
he took: Ligny met with the same fate: he next laid siege to St. Disier,
on the Marne, which, though a weak place, made a brave resistance under
the count of Sancerre, the governor, and the siege was protracted beyond
expectation.
The emperor was employed before this town at the time the English forces
were assembled in Picardy. Henry either tempted by the defenceless
condition of the French frontier, or thinking that the emperor had first
broken his engagement by forming sieges, or, perhaps, foreseeing at
last the dangerous consequences of entirely subduing the French power,
instead of marching forward to Paris, sat down before Montreuil and
Boulogne. The duke of Norfolk commanded the army before Montreuil; the
king himself that before Boulogne. Vervin was governor of the latter
place, and under him Philip Corse, a brave old soldier, who encouraged
the garrison to defend themselves to the last extremity against the
English. He was killed during the course of the siege, and the town was
immediately surrendered to Henry by the cowardice of Vervin, who was
afterwards beheaded for this dishonorable capitulation.
During the course of this siege, Charles had taken St. Disier; and
finding the season much advanced, he began to hearken to a treaty of
peace with France, since all his schemes for subduing that kingdom were
likely to prove abortive. In order to have a pretence for deserting
his ally, he sent a messenger to the English camp, requiring Henry
immediately to fulfil his engagements, and to meet him with his army
before Paris. Henry replied, that he was too far engaged in the siege of
Boulogne to raise it with honor, and that the emperor himself had first
broken the concert by besieging St. Disier. This answer served Charles
as a sufficient reason for concluding a peace with Francis at Crepy,
where no mention was made of England. He stipulated to give Flanders as
a dowry to his daughter, whom he agreed to marry to the duke of Orleans,
Francis’s second son; and Francis, in return, withdrew his troops from
Piedmont and Savoy, and renounced all claim to Milan, Naples, and
other territories in Italy. This peace, so advantageous to Francis, was
procured partly by the decisive victory obtained in the beginning of the
campaign by the count of Anguyen over the imperialists at Cerisolles in
Piedmont, partly by the emperor’s great desire to turn his arms against
the Protestant princes in Germany. Charles ordered his troops to
separate from the English in Picardy; and Henry, finding himself obliged
to raise the siege of Montreuil, returned into England. This campaign
served to the populace as matter of great triumph; but all men of sense
concluded, that the king had, as in all his former military enterprises,
made, at a great expense, an acquisition which was of no importance.
The war with Scotland, meanwhile, was conducted feebly and with various
success. Sir Ralph Evers, now Lord Evers and Sir Bryan Latoun, made
an inroad into that kingdom; and having laid waste the counties of
Tiviotdale and the Merse, they proceeded to the abbey of Coldingham,
which they took possession of, and fortified. The governor assembled an
army of eight thousand men, in order to dislodge them from this post;
but he had no sooner opened his batteries before the place, than a
sudden panic seized him; he left the army, and fled to Dunbar. He
complained of the mutiny of his troops, and pretended apprehensions
lest they should deliver him into the hands of the English; but his own
unwarlike spirit was generally believed to have been the motive of this
dishonorable flight. The Scottish army, upon the departure of their
general, fell into confusion; and had not Angus, with a few of his
retainers, brought off the cannon, and protected their rear, the English
might have gained great advantages over them. Evers, elated with this
success, boasted to Henry, that he had conquered all Scotland to the
Forth; and he claimed a reward for this important service. The duke
of Norfolk, who knew with what difficulty such acquisitions would be
maintained against a warlike enemy, advised the king to grant him, as
his reward, the conquests of which he boasted so highly. The next inroad
made by the English showed the vanity of Evers’s hopes.
{1545.} This general led about five thousand men into Tiviotdale, and
was employed in ravaging that country; when intelligence was brought him
that some Scottish forces appeared near the abbey of Melross. Angus had
roused the governor to more activity; and a proclamation being issued
for assembling the troops of the neighboring counties, a considerable
body had repaired thither to oppose the enemy. Norman Lesly, son of the
earl of Rothes, had also joined the army with some volunteers from Fife;
and he inspired courage into the whole, as well by this accession of
force, as by his personal bravery and intrepidity. In order to bring
their troops to the necessity of a steady defence, the Scottish leaders
ordered all their cavalry to dismount, and they resolved to wait, on
some high grounds near Ancram, the assault of the English. The English,
whose past successes had taught them too much to despise the enemy,
thought, when they saw the Scottish horses led off the field, that the
whole army was retiring; and they hastened to attack them. The Scots
received them in good order; and being favored by the advantage of the
ground, as well as by the surprise of the English, who expected no
resistance, they soon put them to flight, and pursued them with
considerable slaughter. Evers and Latoun were both killed, and above a
thousand men were made prisoners. In order to support the Scots in this
war, Francis some time after sent over a body of auxiliaries, to the
number of three thousand five hundred men, under the command of
Montgomery, lord of Lorges.[*] Reënforced by these succors, the governor
assembled an army of fifteen thousand men at Haddington, and marched
thence to ravage the east borders of England. He laid all waste wherever
he came; and having met with no considerable resistance, he retired into
his own country, and disbanded his army. The earl of Hertford, in
revenge, committed ravages on the middle and west marches; and the war
on both sides was signalized rather by the ills inflicted on the enemy,
than by any considerable advantage gained by either party.
The war likewise between France and England was not distinguished this
year by any memorable event. Francis had equipped a fleet of above two
hundred sail, besides galleys; and having embarked some land forces on
board, he sent them to make a descent in England.[**] They sailed to the
Isle of Wight, where they found the English fleet lying at anchor in
St. Helen’s. It consisted not of above a hundred sail; and the admiral
thought it most advisable to remain in that road, in hopes of drawing
the French into the narrow channels and the rocks, which were unknown to
them. The two fleets cannonaded each other for two days; and except the
sinking of the Mary Rose, one of the largest ships of the English fleet,
the damage on both sides was inconsiderable.
* Buchanan, lib. xv. Drummond.
** Beleair. Mém. du Bellai.
Francis’s chief intention in equipping so great a fleet, was to prevent
the English from throwing succors into Boulogne, which he resolved to
besiege; and for that purpose he ordered a fort to be built, by which he
intended to block up the harbor. After a considerable loss of time and
money, the fort was found so ill constructed, that he was obliged to
abandon it; and though he had assembled on that frontier an army of
near forty thousand men, he was not able to effect any considerable
enterprise. Henry, in order to defend his possessions in France, had
levied fourteen thousand Germans who, having marched to Fleurines, in
the bishopric of Liege, found that they could advance no farther. The
emperor would not allow them a passage through his dominions: they
received intelligence of a superior army on the side of France ready
to intercept them: want of occupation and of pay soon produced a mutiny
among them; and having seized the English commissaries as a security for
arrears, they retreated into their own country. There seems to have been
some want of foresight in this expensive armament.
The great expense of these two wars maintained by Henry, obliged him to
summon a new parliament. The commons granted him a subsidy, payable in
two years, of two shillings a pound on land.[*] The spirituality voted
him six shillings a pound. But the parliament, apprehensive lest more
demands should be made upon them, endeavored to save themselves by a
very extraordinary liberality of other people’s property; by one vote
they bestowed on the king all the revenues of the universities, as well
as of the chauntries, free chapels,[**] and hospitals. Henry was pleased
with this concession, as it increased his power; but he had no intention
to rob learning of all her endowments; and he soon took care to inform
the universities that he meant not to touch their revenues. Thus
these ancient and celebrated establishments owe their existence to
the generosity of the king, not to the protection of this servile and
prostitute parliament.
The prostitute spirit of the parliament further appeared in the preamble
of a statute;[***] in which they recognize the king to have always
been, by the word of God, supreme head of the church of England; and
acknowledge that archbishops, bishops, and other ecclesiastical persons,
have no manner of jurisdiction but by his royal mandate; to him alone,
say they, and such persons as he shall appoint, full power and
authority is given from above to hear and determine all manner of causes
ecclesiastical, and to correct all manner of heresies, errors, vices,
and sins whatsoever. No mention is here made of the concurrence of a
convocation, or even of a parliament. His proclamations are in effect
acknowledged to have not only the force of law, but the authority of
revelation; and by his royal power he might regulate the actions of
men, control their words, and even direct their inward sentiments and
opinions.
* Those who possessed goods or money above five pounds, and
below ten, were to pay eightpence a pound; those above ten
pounds, a shilling.
** A chauntry was a little church, chapel, or particular
altar in some cathedral church, etc., endowed with lands or
other revenues for the maintenance of one or more priests
daily to say mass or perform divine service, for the use of
the founders, or such others as they appointed: free chapels
were independent on any church, and endowed for much the
same purpose as the former. Jacob’s Law Dict.
*** 37 Henry VIII. c. 17.
The king made in person a speech to the parliament on proroguing them;
in which, after thanking them for their loving attachment to him, which,
he said, equalled what was ever paid by their ancestors to any king of
England, he complained of their dissensions, disputes, and animosities
in religion. He told them, that the several pulpits were become a kind
of batteries against each other; and that one preacher called another
heretic and Anabaptist, which was retaliated by the opprobrious
appellations of Papist and hypocrite: that he had permitted his people
the use of the Scriptures, not in order to furnish them with materials
for disputing and railing, but that he might enable them to inform their
consciences and instruct their children and families: that it grieved
his heart to find how that precious jewel was prostituted, by being
introduced into the conversation of every alehouse and tavern, and
employed as a pretence for decrying the spiritual and legal pastors:
and that he was sorry to observe, that the word of God, while it was
the object of so much anxious speculation, had very little influence
on their practice; and that, though an imaginary knowledge so much
abounded, charity was daily going to decay.[*] The king gave good
advice; but his own example, by encouraging speculation and dispute,
was ill fitted to promote that peaceable submission of opinion which he
recommended.
* Hall, fol. 261. Herbert, p. 534.
{1546.} Henry employed in military preparations the money granted by
parliament; and he sent over the earl of Hertford and Lord Lisle, the
admiral, to Calais, with a body of nine thousand men, two thirds of
which consisted of foreigners. Some skirmishes of small moment ensued
with the French; and no hopes of any considerable progress could be
entertained by either party. Henry, whose animosity against Francis was
not violent, had given sufficient vent to his humor by this short war;
and finding that, from his great increase in corpulence and decay in
strength, he could not hope for much longer life, he was desirous of
ending a quarrel which might prove dangerous to his kingdom during a
minority. Francis likewise, on his part, was not averse to peace with
England; because, having lately lost his son, the duke of Orleans, he
revived his ancient claim upon Milan, and foresaw that hostilities
must soon, on that account, break out between him and the emperor.
Commissioners, therefore, having met at Campe, a small place between
Ardres and Guisnes, the articles were soon agreed on, and the peace
signed by them. The chief conditions were, that Henry should retain
Boulogne during eight years, or till the former debt due by Francis
should be paid. This debt was settled at two millions of livres, besides
a claim of five hundred thousand livres, which was afterwards to be
adjusted. Francis took care to comprehend Scotland in the treaty. Thus
all that Henry obtained by a war which cost him above one million
three hundred and forty thousand pounds sterling,[*] was a bad and a
chargeable security for a debt, which was not a third of the value.
* Herbert. Stowe.
The king, now freed from all foreign wars, had leisure to give his
attention to domestic affairs; particularly to the establishment of
uniformity in opinion, on which he was so intent. Though he allowed an
English translation of the Bible, he had hitherto been very careful to
keep the mass in Latin; but he was at last prevailed on to permit that
the litany, a considerable part of the service, should be celebrated in
the vulgar tongue; and by this innovation he excited anew the hopes of
the reformers, who had been somewhat discouraged by the severe law of
the six articles. One petition of the new litany was a prayer to save
us “from the tyranny of the bishop of Rome, and from all his detestable
enormities.” Cranmer employed his credit to draw Henry into further
innovations; and he took advantage of Gardiner’s absence, who was sent
on an embassy to the emperor: but Gardiner having written to the king,
that, if he carried his opposition against the Catholic religion to
greater extremities, Charles threatened to break off all commerce with
him, the success of Cranmer’s projects was for some time retarded.
Cranmer lost this year the most sincere and powerful friend that he
possessed at court, Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk; the queen dowager
of France, consort to Suffolk, had died some years before. This nobleman
is one instance that Henry was not altogether incapable of a cordial and
steady friendship; and Suffolk seems to have been worthy of the favor
which, from his earliest youth, he had enjoyed with his master. The king
was sitting in council when informed of Suffolk’s death; and he took
the opportunity both to express his own sorrow for the loss, and to
celebrate the merits of the deceased. He declared, that during the
whole course of their friendship, his brother-in-law had never made one
attempt to injure an adversary, and had never whispered a word to the
disadvantage of any person. “Is there any of you, my lords, who can say
as much?” When the king subjoined these words, he looked round in all
their faces, and saw that confusion which the consciousness of secret
guilt naturally threw upon them.[*]
* Coke’s Inst. cap. 99.
Cranmer himself, when bereaved of this support, was the more exposed
to those cabals of the courtiers, which the opposition in party and
religion, joined to the usual motives of interest, rendered so frequent
among Henry’s ministers and counsellors. The Catholics took hold of the
king by his passion for orthodoxy; and they represented to him, that, if
his laudable zeal for enforcing the truth met with no better success,
it was altogether owing to the primate, whose example and encouragement
were, in reality, the secret supports of heresy. Henry, seeing the point
at which they aimed, feigned a compliance, and desired the council to
make inquiry into Cranmer’s conduct; promising that, if he were found
guilty, he should be committed to prison, and brought to condign
punishment. Every body now considered the primate as lost; and his
old friends, from interested views, as well as the opposite party from
animosity, began to show him marks of neglect and disregard. He was
obliged to stand several hours among the lackeys at the door of the
council chamber before he could be admitted; and when he was at last
called in, he was told that they had determined to send him to the
Tower. Cranmer said, that he appealed to the king himself; and finding
his appeal disregarded, he produced a ring, which Henry had given him as
a pledge of favor and protection. The council were confounded; and when
they came before the king, he reproved them in the severest terms; and
told them, that he was well acquainted with Cranmer’s merit, as well as
with their malignity and envy; but he was determined to crush all their
cabals, and to teach them by the severest discipline, since gentle
methods were ineffectual, a more dutiful concurrence in promoting his
service. Norfolk, who was Cranmer’s capital enemy, apologized for their
conduct and said, that their only intention was to set the primate’s
innocence in a full light, by bringing him to an open trial, and
Henry obliged them all to embrace him, as a sign of their cordial
reconciliation. The mild temper of Cranmer rendered this agreement more
sincere on his part than is usual in such forced compliances.[*]
But though Henry’s favor for Cranmer rendered fruitless all accusations
against him, his pride and peevishness, irritated by his declining state
of health, impelled him to punish with fresh severity all others who
presumed to entertain a different opinion from himself, particularly
in the capital point of the real presence. Anne Ascue, a young woman of
merit as well as beauty,[**] who had great connections with the chief
ladies at court, and with the queen herself, was accused of dogmatizing
on that delicate article; and Henry, instead of showing indulgence to
the weakness of her sex and age, was but the more provoked, that a woman
should dare to oppose his theological sentiments.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 342, 344. Antiq. Brit. in vita Cranm.
** Bale. Speed, p. 780.
She was prevailed on by Bonner’s menaces to make a seeming recantation;
but she qualified it with some reserves, which did not satisfy that
zealous prelate. She was thrown into prison, and she there employed
herself in composing prayers and discourses, by which she fortified her
resolution to endure the utmost extremity rather than relinquish her
religious principles. She even wrote to the king, and told him, that as
to the Lord’s supper, she believed as much as Christ himself had said
of it, and as much of his divine doctrine as the Catholic church had
required: but while she could not be brought to acknowledge an assent to
the king’s explications, this declaration availed her nothing, and was
rather regarded as a fresh insult. The chancellor, Wriothesely, who had
succeeded Audley, and who was much attached to the Catholic party, was
sent to examine her with regard to her patrons at court, and the
great ladies who were in correspondence with her: but she maintained a
laudable fidelity to her friends, and would confess nothing. She was
put to the torture in the most barbarous manner, and continued still
resolute in preserving secrecy. Some authors[*] add an extraordinary
circumstance; that the chancellor, who stood by, ordered the lieutenant
of the Tower to stretch the rack still farther; but that officer refused
compliance the chancellor menaced him, but met with a new refusal;
upon which that magistrate, who was otherwise a person of merit, but
intoxicated with religious zeal, put his own hand to the rack, and drew
it so violently that he almost tore her body asunder. Her constancy
still surpassed the barbarity of her persecutors, and they found all
their efforts to be baffled. She was then condemned to be burned alive;
and being so dislocated by the rack that she could not stand, she
was carried to the stake in a chair. Together with her were conducted
Nicholas Belenian, a priest, John Lassels, of the king’s household, and
John Adams, a tailor, who had been condemned for the same crime to the
same punishment. They were all tied to the stake; and in that dreadful
situation the chancellor sent to inform them, that their pardon was
ready drawn and signed, and should instantly be given them if they
would merit it by a recantation. They only regarded this offer as a new
ornament to their crown of martyrdom; and they saw with tranquillity the
executioner kindle the flames which consumed them. Wriothesely did not
consider, that this public and noted situation interested their honor
the more to maintain a steady perseverance.
* Fox, ii. p. 578. Speed, p. 780. Baker, p. 299.
But Burnet questions the truth of this circumstance; Fox,
however, transcribes her own papers, where she relates it. I
must add, in justice to the king, that he disapproved of
Wriothesely’s conduct, and commended the lieutenant.
Though the secrecy and fidelity of Anne Ascue saved the queen from this
peril, that princess soon after fell into a new danger, from which she
narrowly escaped. An ulcer had broken out in the king’s leg, which,
added to his extreme corpulency and his bad habit of body, began both to
threaten his life and to render him even more than usually peevish and
passionate. The queen attended him with the most tender and dutiful
care, and endeavored, by every soothing art and compliance, to allay
those gusts of humor to which he was become so subject. His favorite
topic of conversation was theology; and Catharine, whose good sense
enabled her to discourse on any subject, was frequently engaged in
the argument, and being secretly inclined to the principles of
the reformers, she unwarily betrayed too much of her mind on these
occasions. Henry, highly provoked that she should presume to differ from
him, complained of her obstinacy to Gardiner, who gladly laid hold of
the opportunity to inflame the quarrel. He praised the king’s anxious
concern for preserving the orthodoxy of his subjects; and represented,
that the more elevated the person was who was chastised, and the more
near to his person, the greater terror would the example strike
into every one, and the more glorious would the sacrifice appear to
posterity. The chancellor, being consulted, was engaged by religious
zeal to second these topics; and Henry, hurried on by his own impetuous
temper, and encouraged by his counsellors, went so far as to order
articles of impeachment to be drawn up against his consort. Wriothesely
executed his commands; and soon after brought the paper to him to be
signed; for, as it was high treason to throw slander upon the queen,
he might otherwise have been questioned for his temerity. By some means
this important paper fell into the hands of one of the queen’s friends,
who immediately carried the intelligence to her. She was sensible of the
extreme danger to which she was exposed; but did not despair of being
able, by her prudence and address, still to elude the efforts of her
enemies. She paid her usual visit to the king, and found him in a more
serene disposition than she had reason to expect. He entered on the
subject which was so familiar to him; and he seemed to challenge her
to an argument in divinity. She gently declined the conversation, and
remarked, that such profound speculations were ill suited to the natural
imbecility of her sex. Women, she said, by their first creation, were
made subject to men: the male was created after the image of God, the
female after the image of the male: it belonged to the husband to choose
principles for his wife; the wife’s duty was, in all cases, to adopt
implicitly the sentiments of her husband: and as to herself, it was
doubly her duty, being blest with a husband who was qualified by his
judgment and learning not only to choose principles for his own family,
but for the most wise and knowing of every nation. “Not so! by St.
Mary,” replied the king; “you are now become a doctor, Kate, and better
fitted to give than receive instruction.” She meekly replied, that she
was sensible how little she was entitled to these praises; that though
she usually declined not any conversation, however sublime, when
proposed by his majesty, she well knew that her conceptions could serve
to no other purpose than to give him a little momentary amusement, that
she found the conversation apt to languish when not revived by some
opposition, and she had ventured sometimes to feign a contrariety of
sentiments, in order to give him the pleasure of refuting her; and that
she also purposed, by this innocent artifice, to engage him into topics,
whence she had observed, by frequent experience, that she reaped profit
and instruction. “And is it so, sweetheart?” replied the king, “then
are we perfect friends again.” He embraced her with great affection,
and sent her away with assurances of his protection and kindness. Her
enemies, who knew nothing of this sudden change, prepared next day
to convey her to the Tower, pursuant to the king’s warrant. Henry and
Catharine were conversing amicably in the garden, when the chancellor
appeared with forty of the pursuivants. The king spoke to him at some
distance from her; and seemed to expostulate with him in the severest
manner: she even overheard the appellations of “knave,” “fool,” and
“beast,” which he liberally bestowed upon that magistrate; and then
ordered him to depart his presence. She afterwards interposed to
mitigate his anger: he said to her, “Poor soul! you know not how ill
entitled this man is to your good offices.” Thenceforth the queen,
having narrowly escaped so great a danger, was careful not to offend
Henry’s humor by any contradiction; and Gardiner, whose malice had
endeavored to widen the breach, could never afterwards regain his favor
and good opinion.[*]
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 344. Herbert, p. 560. Speed p. 780.
Fox’s Acts and Monuments, vol. ii. p. 58.
But Henry’s tyrannical disposition, soured by ill health, burst out soon
after to the destruction of a man who possessed a much superior rank to
that of Gardiner. The duke of Norfolk and his father, during this
whole reign, and even a part of the foregoing, had been regarded as the
greatest subjects in the kingdom, and had rendered considerable service
to the crown. The duke himself had in his youth acquired reputation by
naval enterprises: he had much contributed to the victory gained over
the Scots at Flouden: he had suppressed a dangerous rebellion in the
north; and he had always done his part with honor in all the expeditions
against France. Fortune seemed to conspire with his own industry in
raising him to the greatest elevation. From the favors heaped on him by
the crown he had acquired an immense estate: the king had successively
been married to two of his nieces; and the king’s natural son, the duke
of Richmond, had married his daughter; besides his descent, from the
ancient family of the Moubrays, by which he was allied to the throne,
he had espoused a daughter of the duke of Buckingham, who was descended
by a female from Edward III.; and as he was believed still to adhere
secretly to the ancient religion, he was regarded, both abroad and at
home, as the head of the Catholic party. But all these circumstances, in
proportion as they exalted the duke, provoked the jealousy of Henry;
and he foresaw danger, during his son’s minority, both to the public
tranquillity, and to the new ecclesiastical system, from the attempts
of so potent a subject. But nothing tended more to expose Norfolk to
the king’s displeasure, than the prejudices which Henry had entertained
against the earl of Surrey, son of that nobleman.
Surrey was a young man of the most promising hopes, and had
distinguished himself by every accomplishment which became a scholar, a
courtier, and a soldier. He excelled in all the military exercises which
were then in request: he encouraged the fine arts by his patronage
and example: he had made some successful attempts in poetry; and being
smitten with the romantic gallantry of the age, he celebrated the
praises of his mistress by his pen and his lance, in every masque and
tournament. His spirit and ambition were equal to his talents and his
quality; and he did not always regulate his conduct by the caution
and reserve which his situation required. He had been left governor
of Boulogne when that town was taken by Henry; but though his
personal bravery was unquestioned, he had been unfortunate in some
rencounters[**misspelling] with the French. The king, somewhat
displeased with his conduct, had sent over Hertford to command in his
place; and Surrey was so imprudent as to drop some menacing expressions
against the ministers, on account of this affront which was put upon
him. And as he had refused to marry Hertford’s daughter, and even waived
every other proposal of marriage, Henry imagined that he had entertained
views of espousing the lady Mary; and he was instantly determined to
repress, by the most severe expedients, so dangerous an ambition.
Actuated by all these motives, and perhaps influenced by that old
disgust with which the ill conduct of Catharine Howard had inspired him
against her whole family, he gave private orders to arrest Norfolk and
Surrey; and they were on the same day confined in the Tower. Surrey
being a commoner, his trial was the more expeditious; and as to proofs,
neither parliaments nor juries seem ever to have given the least
attention to them in any cause of the crown during this whole reign.
{1547.} He was accused of entertaining in his family some Italians
who were suspected to be spies; a servant of his had paid a visit
to Cardinal Pole in Italy, whence he was suspected of holding a
correspondence with that obnoxious prelate; he had quartered the arms
of Edward the Confessor on his scutcheon, which made him be suspected
of aspiring to the crown, though both he and his ancestors had openly,
during the course of many years, maintained that practice, and the
heralds had even justified it by their authority. These were the crimes
for which a jury, notwithstanding his eloquent and spirited defence,
condemned the earl of Surrey for high treason; and their sentence was
soon after executed upon him.
The innocence of the duke of Norfolk was still, if possible, more
apparent than that of his son; and his services to the crown had been
greater. His duchess, with whom he lived on bad terms, had been so base
as to carry intelligence to his enemies of all she knew against him:
Elizabeth Holland, a mistress of his, had been equally subservient to
the designs of the court; yet with all these advantages, his accusers
discovered no greater crime than his once saying, that the king was
sickly, and could not hold out long; and the kingdom was likely to fall
into disorders, through the diversity of religious opinions. He wrote a
pathetic letter to the king, pleading his past services and protesting
his innocence: soon after, he embraced a more proper expedient for
appeasing Henry, by making a submission and confession, such as his
enemies required; but nothing could mollify the unrelenting temper of
the king. He assembled a parliament, as the surest and most expeditious
instrument of his tyranny; and the house of peers, without examining the
prisoner, without trial or evidence, passed a bill of attainder against
him, and sent it down to the commons. Cranmer, though engaged for many
years in an opposite party to Norfolk, and though he had received
many and great injuries from him, would have no hand in so unjust a
prosecution; and he retired to his seat at Croydon.[*] The king was now
approaching fast towards his end; and fearing lest Norfolk should escape
him, he sent a message to the commons, by which he desired them to
hasten the bill, on pretence that Norfolk enjoyed the dignity of earl
marshal, and it was necessary to appoint another, who might officiate
at the ensuing ceremony of installing his son prince of Wales. The
obsequious commons obeyed his directions, though founded on so frivolous
a pretence; and the king having affixed the royal assent to the bill by
commissioners, issued orders for the execution of Norfolk on the morning
of the twenty-ninth of January. But news being carried to the Tower that
the king himself had expired that night, the lieutenant deferred obeying
the warrant; and it was not thought advisable by the council to begin a
new reign by the death of the greatest nobleman in the kingdom, who had
been condemned by a sentence so unjust and tyrannical.
The king’s health had long been in a declining state; but for several
days all those near him plainly saw his end approaching. He was become
so froward, that no one durst inform him of his condition; and as some
persons during this reign had suffered as traitors for foretelling the
king’s death,[**] every one was afraid lest, in the transports of his
fury, he might on this pretence punish capitally the author of such
friendly intelligence. At last, Sir Anthony Denny ventured to disclose
to him the fatal secret, and exhorted him to prepare for the fate which
was awaiting him. He expressed his resignation, and desired that Cranmer
might be sent for; but before the prelate arrived, he was speechless,
though he still seemed to retain his senses. Cranmer desired him to give
some sign of his dying in the faith of Christ. He squeezed the prelate’s
hand, and immediately expired, after a reign of thirty-seven years and
nine months; and in the fifty-sixth year of his age.
* Burnet, vol. i. p. 348. Fox.
** Lanquet’s Epitome of Chronicles in the year 1541.
The king had made his will near a month before his demise; in which he
confirmed the destination of parliament, by leaving the crown first to
Prince Edward, then to the lady Mary, next to the lady Elizabeth: the
two princesses he obliged, under the penalty of forfeiting their title
to the crown, not to marry without consent of the council which he
appointed for the government of his minor son. After his own children,
he settled the succession on Frances Brandon, marchioness of Dorset,
eldest daughter of his sister, the French queen; then on Eleanor,
countess of Cumberland, the second daughter In passing over the
posterity of the queen of Scots, his eldest sister, he made use of the
power obtained from parliament, but as he subjoined that, after the
failure of the French queen’s posterity, the crown should descend to the
next lawful heir, it afterwards became a question, whether these words
could be applied to the Scottish line. It was thought that these princes
were not the next heirs after the house of Suffolk, but before that
house; and that Henry, by expressing himself in this manner, meant
entirely to exclude them. The late injuries which he had received from
the Scots, had irritated him extremely against that nation; and he
maintained to the last that character of violence and caprice by which
his life had been so much distinguished. Another circumstance of
his will may suggest the same reflection with regard to the strange
contrarieties of his temper and conduct: he left money for masses to be
said for delivering his soul from purgatory; and though he destroyed
all those institutions established by his ancestors and others for the
benefit of their souls, and had even left the doctrine of purgatory
doubtful in all the articles of faith which he promulgated during
his later years, he was yet determined, when the hour of death was
approaching, to take care at least of his own future repose, and to
adhere to the safer side of the question.[*]
* See his will in Fuller, Heylin, and Rymer, p. 110. There
is no reasonable ground to suspect its authenticity.
It is difficult to give a just summary of this prince’s qualities: he
was so different from himself in different parts of his reign, that, as
is well remarked by Lord Herbert, his history is his best character and
description. The absolute, uncontrolled authority which he maintained
at home, and the regard which he acquired among foreign nations, are
circumstances which entitle him, in some degree, to the appellation of
a great prince; while his tyranny and barbarity exclude him from the
character of a good one. He possessed, indeed, great vigor of mind,
which qualified him for exercising dominion over men; courage,
intrepidity, vigilance, inflexibility; and though these qualities lay
not always under the guidance of a regular and solid judgment, they were
accompanied with good parts and an extensive capacity; and every one
dreaded a contest with a man who was known never to yield or to forgive,
and who, in every controversy, was determined either to ruin himself or
his antagonist. A catalogue of his vices would comprehend many of the
worst qualities incident to human nature, violence, cruelty, profusion,
rapacity, injustice, obstinacy, arrogance, bigotry, presumption,
caprice: but neither was he subject to all these vices in the most
extreme degree, nor was he, at intervals, altogether destitute of
virtues: he was sincere, open, gallant, liberal, and capable at least
of a temporary friendship and attachment. In this respect he was
unfortunate, that the incidents of his reign served to display his
faults in their full light: the treatment which he met with from the
court of Rome provoked him to violence; the danger of a revolt from his
superstitious subjects seemed to require the most extreme severity. But
it must at the same time be acknowledged, that his situation tended
to throw an additional lustre on what was great and magnanimous in
his character; the emulation between the emperor and the French king
rendered his alliance, notwithstanding his impolitic conduct, of great
importance in Europe; the extensive powers of his prerogative, and the
submissive, not to say slavish, disposition of his parliaments, made
it the more easy for him to assume and maintain that entire dominion by
which his reign is so much distinguished in the English history.
It may seem a little extraordinary, that, notwithstanding his cruelty,
his extortion, his violence, his arbitrary administration, this prince
not only acquired the regard of his subjects, but never was the object
of their hatred: he seems even, in some degree, to have possessed to
the last their love and affection.[*] His exterior qualities were
advantageous, and fit to captivate the multitude: his magnificence and
personal bravery rendered him illustrious in vulgar eyes; and it may
be said with truth, that the English in that age were so thoroughly
subdued, that, like Eastern slaves, they were inclined to admire those
acts of violence and tyranny which were exercised over themselves, and
at their own expense.
* Strype, vol. i. p. 389.
With regard to foreign states, Henry appears long to have supported an
intercourse of friendship with Francis, more sincere and disinterested
than usually takes place between neighboring princes. Their common
jealousy of the emperor Charles, and some resemblance in their
characters, (though the comparison sets the French monarch in a very
superior and advantageous light,) served as the cement of their mutual
amity. Francis is said to have been affected with the king’s death,
and to have expressed much regret for the loss. His own health began to
decline: he foretold that he should not long survive his friend;[*] and
he died in about two months after him.
There were ten parliaments summoned by Henry VIII., and twenty-three
sessions held. The whole time in which these parliaments sat during this
long reign, exceeded not three years and a half. It amounted not to a
twelvemonth during the first twenty years. The innovations in religion
obliged the king afterwards to call these assemblies more frequently;
but though these were the most important transactions that ever fell
under the cognizance of parliament, their devoted submission to Henry’s
will, added to their earnest desire of soon returning to their country
seats, produced a quick despatch of the bills, and made the sessions
of short duration. All the king’s caprices were indeed blindly complied
with, and no regard was paid to the safety or liberty of the subject.
Besides the violent prosecution of whatever he was pleased to term
heresy, the laws of treason were multiplied beyond all former precedent.
Even words to the disparagement of the king, queen, or royal issue, were
subjected to that penalty; and so little care was taken in framing these
rigorous statutes, that they contain obvious contradictions; insomuch
that, had they been strictly executed, every man, without exception,
must have fallen under the penalty of treason. By one statute,[**] for
instance, it was declared treason to assert the validity of the
king’s marriage, either with Catharine of Arragon or Anne Boleyn; by
another,[***] it was treason to say any thing to the disparagement or
slander of the princesses Mary and Elizabeth; and to call them spurious
would, no doubt, have been construed to their slander. Nor would even a
profound silence with regard to these delicate points be able to save a
person from such penalties. For by the former statute, whoever refused
to answer upon oath to any point contained in that act, was subjected
to the pains of treason. The king, therefore, needed only propose to
any one a question with regard to the legality of either of his first
marriages: if the person were silent, he was a traitor by law: if he
answered either in the negative or in the affirmative, he was no less
a traitor. So monstrous were the inconsistencies which arose from
the furious passions of the king and the slavish submission of his
parliaments. It is hard to say whether these contradictions were owing
to Henry’s precipitancy, or to a formed design of tyranny.
* Le Thou.
** 28 Henry VIII. c. 7.
*** 34, 35 Henry VIII. c. 1.
It may not be improper to recapitulate whatever is memorable in the
statutes of this reign, whether with regard to government or commerce:
nothing can better show the genius of the age than such a review of the
laws.
The abolition of the ancient religion much contributed to the regular
execution of justice. While the Catholic superstition subsisted, there
was no possibility of punishing any crime in the clergy: the church
would not permit the magistrate to try the offences of her members, and
she could not herself inflict any civil penalties upon them. But Henry
restrained these pernicious immunities: the privilege of clergy was
abolished for the crimes of petty treason, murder, and felony, to all
under the degree of a subdeacon.[*] But the former superstition not
only protected crimes in the clergy; it exempted also the laity from
punishment, by affording them shelter in the churches and sanctuaries.
The parliament abridged these privileges. It was first declared, that no
sanctuaries were allowed in cases of high treason;[**] next, in those of
murder, felony, rapes, burglary, and petty treason:[***] and it limited
them in other particulars.[****] The further progress of the reformation
removed all distinction between the clergy and other subjects, and also
abolished entirely the privileges of sanctuaries. These consequences
were implied in the neglect of the canon law.
The only expedient employed to support the military spirit during this
age, was the reviving and extending of some old laws enacted for the
encouragement of archery, on which the defence of the kingdom was
supposed much to depend. Every man was ordered to have a bow;[v] butts
were ordered to be erected in every parish;[v*] and every bowyer was
ordered, for each bow of yew which he made, to make two of elm or witch,
for the service of the common people.[v**] The use of crossbows and
handguns was also prohibited.[v***]
* 23 Henry VIII. c. 1.
** 26 Henry VIII. c. 13.
*** 32 Henry VIII. c. 12.
**** 22 Henry VIII. c. 14.
v 3 Henry VIII. c. 3.
V* 3 Henry VIII. c. 3.
V** 3 Henry VIII c. 3.
V*** 3 Henry VIII. c. 13.
What rendered the English bowmen more formidable was, that they carried
halberts with them, by which they were enabled, upon occasion, to engage
in close fight with the enemy.[*] Frequent musters or arrays were also
made of the people, even during time of peace; and all men of substance
were obliged to have a complete suit of armor or harness, as it was
called.[**] The martial spirit of the English, during that age, rendered
this precaution, it was thought, sufficient for the defence of the
nation; and as the king had then an absolute power of commanding the
service of all his subjects, he could instantly, in case of danger,
appoint new officers, and levy regiments, and collect an army as
numerous as he pleased. When no faction or division prevailed among
the people, there was no foreign power that ever thought of invading
England. The city of London alone, could muster fifteen thousand
men.[***] Discipline, however, was an advantage wanting to those troops;
though the garrison of Calais was a nursery of officers, and Tournay
first,[****] Boulogne afterwards, served to increase the number. Every
one who served abroad was allowed to alienate his lands without paying
any fees.[v] A general permission was granted to dispose of land by
will.[v*] The parliament was so little jealous of its privileges, (which
indeed were, at that time, scarcely worth preserving,) that there is an
instance of one Strode, who, because he had introduced into the lower
house some bill regarding tin, was severely treated by the stannery
courts in Cornwall: heavy fines were imposed on him; and upon his
refusal to pay, he was thrown into a dungeon, loaded with irons, and
used in such a manner as brought his life in danger: yet all the notice
which the parliament took of this enormity, even in such a paltry court,
was to enact, that no man could afterwards be questioned for his conduct
in parliament.[v**] This prohibition, however, must be supposed to
extend only to the inferior courts: for as to the king, and privy
council, and star chamber, they were scarcely bound by any law.
There is a bill of tonnage and poundage, which shows what uncertain
ideas the parliament had formed both of their own privileges and of the
rights of the sovereign.[v***] This duty had been voted to every king
since Henry IV., during the term of his own life only: yet Henry VIII.
had been allowed to levy it six years, without any law; and though there
had been four parliaments assembled during that time, no attention had
been given either to grant it to him regularly, or restrain him from
levying it. At last the parliament resolved to give him that supply;
but even in this concession, they plainly show themselves at a loss to
determine whether they grant it, or whether he has a right of himself
to levy it. They say, that the imposition was made to endure during
the natural life of the late king, and no longer: they yet blame the
merchants who had not paid it to the present king: they observe, that
the law for tonnage and poundage was expired; yet make no scruple to
call that imposition the king’s due: they affirm, that he had sustained
great and manifold losses by those who had defrauded him of it; and to
provide a remedy, they vote him that supply during his lifetime, and no
longer. It is remarkable that, notwithstanding this last clause, all
his successors for more than a century persevered in the like irregular
practice; if a practice may deserve that epithet, in which the whole
nation acquiesced, and which gave no offence. But when Charles I.
attempted to continue in the same course which had now received the
sanction of many generations, so much were the opinions of men altered,
that a furious tempest was excited by it; and historians, partial
or ignorant, still represent this measure as a most violent and
unprecedented enormity in that unhappy prince.
* Herbert.
** Hall, fol. 234. Stowe, p. 515. Holingshed, p. 947.
*** Hall, fol. 235. Holingshed, p. 547. Stowe, p. 577.
**** Hall, fol. 68.
v 14 and 15 Henry VIII. c. 15.
v* 34 and 35 Henry VIII. c. 5.
v** 4 Henry VIII. c. 8.
v*** 6 Henry VIII. c. 14.
The king was allowed to make laws for Wales without consent of
parliament.[*] It was forgotten that, with regard both to Wales and
England, the limitation was abolished by the statute which gave to the
royal proclamations the force of laws.
* 34 Henry VIII.
The foreign commerce of England during this age was mostly confined to
the Netherlands. The inhabitants of the Low Countries bought the English
commodities, and distributed them into other parts of Europe. Hence the
mutual dependence of those countries on each other; and the great loss
sustained by both in case of a rupture. During all the variations of
politics, the sovereigns endeavored to avoid coming to this extremity;
and though the king usually bore a greater friendship to Francis, the
nation always leaned towards the emperor.
In 1528, hostilities commenced between England and the Low Countries;
and the inconvenience was soon felt on both sides. While the Flemings
were not allowed to purchase cloth in England, the English merchants
could not buy it from the clothiers, and the clothiers were obliged to
dismiss their workmen, who began to be tumultuous for want of bread. The
cardinal, to appease them, sent for the merchants, and ordered them to
buy cloth as usual: they told him that they could not dispose of it as
usual; and, notwithstanding his menaces, he could get no other answer
from them.[*] An agreement was at last made to continue the commerce
between the states, even during war.
It was not till the end of this reign that any salads, carrots, turnips,
or other edible roots were produced in England. The little of these
vegetables that was used, was formerly imported from Holland and
Flanders.[**] Queen Catharine, when she wanted a salad, was obliged
to despatch a messenger thither on purpose. The use of hops, and the
planting of them, was introduced from Flanders about the beginning of
this reign, or end of the preceding.
* Hall, fol. 174.
** Anderson, vol. i. p. 338.
Foreign artificers, in general, much surpassed the English in dexterity,
industry, and frugality: hence the violent animosity which the latter on
many occasions expressed against any of the former who were settled in
England. They had the assurance to complain, that all their customers
went to foreign tradesmen; and in the year 1517, being moved by the
seditious sermons of one Dr. Bele, and the intrigues of Lincoln, a
broker, they raised an insurrection. The apprentices, and others of the
poorer sort, in London, began by breaking open the prisons, where some
persons were confined for insulting foreigners. They next proceeded
to the house of Meutas, a Frenchman, much hated by them; where they
committed great disorders; killed some of his servants; and plundered
his goods. The mayor could not appease them; nor Sir Thomas More, late
under sheriff, though much respected in the city. They also threatened
Cardinal Wolsey with some insult; and he thought it necessary to fortify
his house, and put himself on his guard. Tired at last with these
disorders, they dispersed themselves; and the earls of Shrewsbury and
Surrey seized some of them. A proclamation was issued, that women should
not meet together to babble and talk, and that all men should keep their
wives in their houses. Next day the duke of Norfolk came into the city,
at the head of thirteen hundred armed men, and made inquiry into the
tumult. Bele and Lincoln, and several others, were sent to the Tower,
and condemned for treason. Lincoln and thirteen more were executed. The
other criminals, to the number of four hundred, were brought before the
king with ropes about their necks, fell upon their knees, and cried for
mercy. Henry knew at that time how to pardon; he dismissed them without
further punishment.[*]
So great was the number of foreign artisans in the city, that at least
fifteen thousand Flemings alone were at one time obliged to leave it, by
an order of council, when Henry became jealous of their favor for Queen
Catharine.[**] Henry himself confesses, in an edict of the star chamber,
printed among the statutes, that the foreigners starved the natives, and
obliged them from idleness to have recourse to theft, murder, and other
enormities.[***] He also asserts, that the vast multitude of foreigners
raised the price of grain and bread.[****] And to prevent an increase of
the evil, all foreign artificers were prohibited from having above two
foreigners in their house, either journeymen or apprentices. A like
jealousy arose against the foreign merchants; and to appease it, a law
was enacted obliging all denizens to pay the duties imposed upon aliens.
The parliament had done better to have encouraged foreign merchants and
artisans to come over in greater numbers to England; which might have
excited the emulation of the natives, and have improved their skill. The
prisoners in the kingdom for debts and crimes are asserted, in an act
of parliament, to be sixty thousand persons and above; which is scarcely
credible. Harrison asserts, that seventy-two thousand criminals were
executed during this reign for theft and robbery, which would amount
nearly to two thousand a year. He adds, that, in the latter end of
Elizabeth’s reign, there were not punished capitally four hundred in a
year; it appears that, in all England, there are not at present fifty
executed for those crimes. If these facts be just, there has been a
great improvement in morals since the reign of Henry VIII. And this
improvement has been chiefly owing to the increase of industry and of
the arts, which have given maintenance, and what is almost of equal
importance, occupation to the lower classes.
* Stowe, p. 505. Holingshed, p. 840.
** Le Grand, vol. iii. p. 232.
*** 21 Henry VIII.
**** 21 Henry VIII., 22 Henry VIII. C 8., 3 Henry VIII. c.
There is a remarkable clause in a statute passed near the beginning of
this reign,[*] by which we might be induced to believe that England was
extremely decayed from the flourishing condition which it had attained
in preceding times. It had been enacted in the reign of Edward II.,
that no magistrate in town or borough, who by his office ought to keep
assize, should, during the continuance of his magistracy, sell, either
in wholesale or retail, any wine or victuals. This law seemed equitable,
in order to prevent fraud or private views in fixing the assize: yet the
law is repealed in this reign. The reason assigned is, that “since the
making of that statute and ordinance, many and the most part of all the
cities, boroughs, and towns corporate, within the realm of England, are
fallen in ruin and decay, and are not inhabited by merchants, and men
of such substance as at the time of making that statute: for at this
day the dwellers and inhabitants of the same cities and boroughs are
commonly bakers, vintners, fishmongers, and other victuallers, and there
remain few others to bear the offices.” Men have such a propensity to
exalt past times above the present, that it seems dangerous to credit
this reasoning of the parliament without further evidence to support it.
So different are the views in which the same object appears, that some
may be inclined to draw an opposite inference from this fact. A more
regular police was established in the reign of Henry VIII. than in any
former period, and a stricter administration of justice; an advantage
which induced the men of landed property to leave the provincial
towns, and to retire into the country. Cardinal Wolsey, in a speech to
parliament, represented it as a proof of the increase of riches, that
the customs had increased beyond what they were formerly.[**]
But if there were really a decay of commerce, and industry, and
populousness in England, the statutes of this reign, except by
abolishing monasteries and retrenching holydays--circumstances of
considerable moment--were not in other respects well calculated to
remedy the evil. The fixing of the wages of artificers was attempted:
[***] luxury in apparel was prohibited by repeated statutes;[****] and
probably without effect.
* Henry VIII. c. 8.
** Hall, fol. 110.
*** 6 Henry VIII. c. 3.
**** 1 Henry VIII. c. 14. 6 Henry VIII. c. I 7 Henry VIII.
c. 7
The chancellor and other ministers were empowered to fix the price of
poultry, cheese, and butter.[*] A statute was even passed to fix the
price of beef, pork, mutton, and veal.[**] Beef and pork were ordered
to be sold at a halfpenny a pound; mutton and veal at a halfpenny half
a farthing, money of that age. The preamble of the statute says, that
these four species of butcher’s meat were the food of the poorer sort.
This ace was afterwards repealed.[***]
The practice of depopulating the country by abandoning tillage, and
throwing the lands into pasturage, still continued;[****] as appears by
the new laws which were from time to time enacted against that practice.
The king was entitled to half the rents of the land, where any farm
houses were allowed to fall to decay.[v] The unskilful husbandry was
probably the cause why the proprietors found no profit in tillage. The
number of sheep allowed to be kept in one flock, was restrained to two
thousand.[v*] Sometimes, says the statute, one proprietor or farmer
would keep a flock of twenty-four thousand. It is remarkable, that the
parliament ascribes the increasing price of mutton to this increase of
sheep: because, say they, the commodity being gotten into few hands, the
price of it is raised at pleasure.[v**] It is more probable, that the
effect proceeded from the daily increase of money; for it seems almost
impossible that such a commodity could be engrossed.
In the year 1544, it appears that an acre of good land in Cambridgeshire
was let at a shilling, or about fifteen pence of our present
money.[v***] This is ten times cheaper than the usual rent at present.
But commodities were not above four times cheaper; a presumption of the
bad husbandry in that age.
Some laws were made with regard to beggars and vagrants;[v****] one of
the circumstances in government, which humanity would most powerfully
recommend to a benevolent legislator; which seems, at first sight, the
most easily adjusted; and which is yet the most difficult to settle
in such a manner as to attain the end without destroying industry.
The convents formerly were a support to the poor; but at the same time
tended to encourage idleness and beggary.
* 25 Henry VIII. c. 2.
** 24 Henry VIII. c. 3.
*** 33 Henry VIII. c. 11.
**** Strype, vol. i. p. 392.
v 6 Henry VIII. c. 5. 7 Henry VIII. c. 1.
v* 25 Henry VIII. c. 13.
v** 25 Henry VIII. c. 13.
v*** Anderson, vol. i. p. 374.
v**** 22 Henry VIII. c. 12. 22 Henry VIII. c. 5.
In 1546, a law was made for fixing the interest of money at ten per
cent.; the first legal interest known in England. Formerly all loans
of that nature were regarded as usurious. The preamble of this very law
treats the interest of money as illegal and criminal; and the prejudices
still remained so strong, that the law permitting interest was repealed
in the following reign.
This reign, as well as many of the foregoing and even subsequent reigns,
abounds with monopolizing laws, confining particular manufactures to
particular towns, or excluding the open country in general.[*] There
remain still too many traces of similar absurdities. In the subsequent
reign, the corporations which had been opened by a former law, and
obliged to admit tradesmen of different kinds, were again shut up by act
of parliament; and every one was prohibited from exercising any trade
who was not of the corporation.[**]
Henry, as he possessed himself some talent for letters, was an
encourager of them in others. He founded Trinity College in Cambridge,
and gave it ample endowments. Wolsey founded Christ Church in Oxford,
and intended to call it Cardinal College: but upon his fall, which
happened before he had entirely finished his scheme, the king seized all
the revenues; and this violence, above all the other misfortunes of that
minister, is said to have given him the greatest concern.[***] But Henry
afterwards restored the revenues of the college, and only changed the
name. The cardinal founded in Oxford the first chair for teaching Greek;
and this novelty rent that university into violent factions, which
frequently came to blows. The students divided themselves into parties,
which bore the names of Greeks and Trojans, and sometimes fought with
as great animosity as was formerly exercised by those hostile nations.
A new and more correct method of pronouncing Greek being introduced, it
also divided the Grecians themselves into parties; and it was remarked
that the Catholics favored the former pronunciation, the Protestants
gave countenance to the new. Gardiner employed the authority of the king
and council to suppress innovations in this particular, and to preserve
the corrupt sound of the Greek alphabet. So little liberty was then
allowed of any kind!
* 21 Henry VIII. c. 12. 25 Henry VIII. c. 18. 3 and 4 Edward
VI. c. 20. 5 and 6 Edward VI. c. 24.
** 3 and 4 Edward VI. c. 20.
*** Strype, vol. i. p. 117.
The penalties inflicted upon the new pronunciation were no less than
whipping, degradation, and expulsion; and the bishop declared, that
rather than permit the liberty of innovating in the pronunciation of
the Greek alphabet, it were better that the language itself were totally
banished the universities. The introduction of the Greek language into
Oxford excited the emulation of Cambridge.[*] Wolsey intended to have
enriched the library of his college at Oxford with copies of all the
manuscripts that were in the Vatican.[**] The countenance given to
letters by this king and his ministers contributed to render learning
fashionable in England: Erasmus speaks with great satisfaction of the
general regard paid by the nobility and gentry to men of knowledge.[***]
It is needless to be particular in mentioning the writers of this reign
or of the preceding. There is no man of that age who has the least
pretension to be ranked among our classics. Sir Thomas More, though
he wrote in Latin, seems to come the nearest to the character of a
classical author.
* Wood’s Hist. and Antiq. Oxon. lib. I p. 245.
** Wood’s Hist. and Antiq. Oxon. lib. I p. 246.
*** Epist. ad Banisium. Also Epist. p. 668.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
[Illustration: 1-403-edward6.jpg EDWARD VI.]
EDWARD VI.
CONTEMPORARY MONARCHS.
{1547.} THE late king, by the regulations which he imposed on the
government of his infant son, as well as by the limitations of the
succession, had projected to reign even after his decease; and he
imagined that his ministers, who had always been so obsequious to him
during his lifetime, would never afterwards depart from the plan which
he had traced out to them. He fixed the majority of the prince at the
completion of his eighteenth year; and as Edward was then only a few
months past nine, he appointed sixteen executors; to whom, during the
minority, he intrusted the government of the king and kingdom. Their
names were, Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury; Lord Wriothesely,
chancellor; Lord St. John, great master; Lord Russel, privy seal; the
earl of Hertford, chamberlain: Viscount Lisle, admiral; Tonstal, bishop
of Durham; Sir Anthony Brown, master of horse; Sir William Paget,
secretary of state; Sir Edward North, chancellor of the court of
augmentations; Sir Edward Montague, chief justice of the common pleas;
Judge Bromley, Sir Anthony Denny, and Sir William Herbert, chief
gentlemen of the privy chamber; Sir Edward Wotton, treasurer of Calais;
Dr. Wotton, dean of Canterbury. To these executors, with whom was
intrusted the whole regal authority, were appointed twelve counsellors,
who possessed no immediate power, and could only assist with their
advice when any affair was laid before them. The council was composed
of the earls of Arundel and Essex; Sir Thomas Cheney, treasurer of
the household; Sir John Gage, comptroller; Sir Anthony Wingfield,
vice-chamberlain; Sir William Petre, secretary of state; Sir Richard
Rich, Sir John Baker, Sir Ralph Sadler Sir Thomas Seymour, Sir Richard
Southwell, and Sir Edmund Peckham.[*] The usual caprice of Henry appears
somewhat in this nomination; while he appointed several persons of
inferior station among his executors, and gave only the place of
counsellor to a person of such high rank as the earl of Arundel, and to
Sir Thomas Seymour, the king’s uncle.
But the first act of the executors and counsellors was to depart from
the destination of the late king in a material article. No sooner were
they met, than it was suggested that the government would lose its
dignity for want of some head who might represent the royal majesty,
who might receive addresses from foreign ambassadors, to whom despatches
from English ministers abroad might be carried, and whose name might be
employed in all orders and proclamations: and as the king’s will seemed
to labor under a defect in this particular, it was deemed necessary to
supply it by choosing a protector; who, though he should possess all the
exterior symbols of royal dignity, should yet be bound, in every act of
power, to follow the opinion of the executors.[**]
* Strype’s Memor. vol. ii. p. 457.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 5.
This proposal was very disagreeable to Chancellor Wriothesely. That
magistrate, a man of an active spirit and high ambition, found himself
by his office entitled to the first rank in the regency after the
primate; and as he knew that this prelate had no talent or inclination
for state affairs, he hoped that the direction of public business
would, of course, devolve in a great measure upon himself. He opposed,
therefore, the proposal of choosing a protector; and represented that
innovation as an infringement of the late king’s will, which, being
corroborated by act of parliament, ought in every thing to be a law
to them, and could not be altered but by the same authority which had
established it. But he seems to have stood alone in the opposition. The
executors and counsellors were mostly courtiers who had been raised by
Henry’s favor, not men of high birth or great hereditary influence; and
as they had been sufficiently accustomed to submission during the reign
of the late monarch, and had no pretensions to govern the nation by
their own authority, they acquiesced the more willingly in a proposal
which seemed calculated for preserving public peace and tranquillity. It
being therefore agreed to name a protector, the choice fell, of course,
on the earl of Hertford, who, as he was the king’s maternal uncle, was
strongly interested in his safety; and possessing no claims to inherit
the crown, could never have any separate interest which might lead him
to endanger Edward’s person or his authority.[*] The public was informed
by proclamation of this change in the administration; and despatches
were sent to all foreign courts to give them intimation of it. All those
who were possessed of any office resigned their former commissions, and
accepted new ones in the name of the young king. The bishops themselves
were constrained to make a like submission. Care was taken to insert in
their new commissions, that they held their office during pleasure:[**]
and it is there expressly affirmed, that all manner of authority and
jurisdiction, as well ecclesiastical as civil, is originally derived
from the crown.[***]
The executors, in their next measure, showed a more submissive deference
to Henry’s will, because many of them found their account in it. The
late king had intended, before his death, to make a new creation of
nobility, in order to supply the place of those peerages which had
fallen by former attainders, or the failure of issue; and that he might
enable the new peers to support their dignity, he had resolved either to
bestow estates on them, or advance them to higher offices. He had even
gone so far as to inform them of this resolution; and in his will he
charged his executors to make good all his promises.[****] That they
might ascertain his intentions in the most authentic manner Sir William
Paget, Sir Anthony Denny, and Sir William Herbert, with whom Henry had
always conversed in a familiar manner, were called before the board
of regency; and having given evidence of what they knew concerning
the king’s promises, their testimony was relied on, and the executors
proceeded to the fulfilling of these engagements. Hertford was created
duke of Somerset, mareschal, and lord treasurer; Wriothesely, earl of
Southampton; the earl of Essex, marquis of Northampton; Viscount
Lisle, earl of Warwick; Sir Thomas Seymour, Lord Seymour of Sudley, and
admiral; Sir Richard Rich, Sir William Willoughby, Sir Edward Sheffield
accepted the title of baron.[v]
* Heylin, Hist. Ref. Edward VI.
** Collier, vol. ii. p. 218. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 6. Strype’s
Mem. of Cranm. p. 141.
*** Strype’s Mem. of Cranm. p. 141.
**** Fuller, Heylin, and Rymer.
v Stowe’s Annals, p. 594
Several, to whom the same dignity was offered, refused it; because the
other part of the king’s promise, the bestowing of estates on these new
noblemen, was deferred till a more convenient opportunity. Some of
them, however, as also Somerset, the protector, were, in the mean time,
endowed with spiritual preferments, deaneries, and prebends. For, among
many other invasions of ecclesiastical privileges and property, this
irregular practice of bestowing spiritual benefices on laymen began now
to prevail.
The earl of Southampton had always been engaged in an opposite party
to Somerset; and it was not likely that factions which had secretly
prevailed even during the arbitrary reign of Henry, should be suppressed
in the weak administration that usually attends a minority. The former
nobleman, that he might have the greater leisure for attending to public
business, had, of himself and from his own authority, put the great
seal in commission, and had empowered four lawyers Southwell,
Tregonel, Oliver, and Bellasis, to execute in his absence the office of
chancellor. This measure seemed very exceptionable; and the more so, as,
two of the commissioners being canonists, the lawyers suspected that,
by this nomination, the chancellor had intended to discredit the
common law. Complaints were made to the council, who, influenced by the
protector, gladly laid hold of the opportunity to depress Southampton.
They consulted the judges with regard to so unusual a case; and received
for answer, that the commission was illegal, and that the chancellor, by
his presumption in granting it, had justly forfeited the great seal, and
was even liable to punishment. The council summoned him to appear before
them. He maintained that he held his office by the late king’s will,
founded on an act of parliament, and could not lose it without a trial
in parliament; that if the commission which he had granted were found
illegal, it might be cancelled, and all the ill consequences of it be
easily remedied; and that the depriving him of his office for an error
of this nature, was a precedent by which any other innovation might be
authorized. But the council, notwithstanding these topics of defence,
declared that he had forfeited the great seal; that a fine should be
imposed upon him; and that he should be confined to his own house during
pleasure.[*]
* Holingshed, p. 979
The removal of Southampton increased the protectors’ authority, as
well as tended to suppress faction in the regency yet was not Somerset
contented with this advantage; his ambition carried him to seek still
further acquisitions. On pretence that the vote of the executors
choosing his protector, was not a sufficient foundation for his
authority, he procured a patent from the young king, by which he
entirely overturned the will of Henry VIII., produced a total revolution
in the government, and may seem even to have subverted all the laws
of the kingdom. He named himself protector with full regal power, and
appointed a council, consisting of all the former counsellors, and all
the executors, except Southampton; he reserved a power of naming any
other counsellors at pleasure; and he was bound to consult with such
only as he thought proper. The protector and his council were likewise
empowered to act at discretion, and to execute whatever they deemed for
the public service, without incurring any penalty or forfeiture from any
law, statute, proclamation, or ordinance whatsoever.[*] Even had this
patent been more moderate in its concessions, and had it been drawn by
directions from the executors appointed by Henry, its legality might
justly be questioned; since it seems essential to a trust of this
nature to be exercised by the persons intrusted, and not to admit of a
delegation to others: but as the patent, by its very tenor, where
the executors are not so much as mentioned, appears to have been
surreptitiously obtained from a minor king, the protectorship of
Somerset was a plain usurpation, which it is impossible by any arguments
to justify. The connivance, however, of the executors, and their present
acquiescence in the new establishment, made it be universally submitted
to; and as the young king discovered an extreme attachment to his
uncle, who was also, in the main, a man of moderation and probity, no
objections were made to his power and title. All men of sense, likewise,
who saw the nation divided by the religious zeal of the opposite sects,
deemed it the more necessary to intrust the government to one person,
who might check the exorbitancies of faction, and insure the public
tranquillity. And though some clauses of the patent seemed to imply a
formal subversion of all limited government, so little jealousy was then
usually entertained on that head, that no exception was ever taken
at bare claims or pretensions of this nature, advanced by any person
possessed of sovereign power. The actual exercise alone of arbitrary
administration, and that in many, and great, and flagrant, and unpopular
instances, was able sometimes to give some umbrage to the nation.
* Burnet, vol. ii. Records, No. 6.
The extensive authority and imperious character of Henry had retained
the partisans of both religions in subjection; but upon his demise, the
hopes of the Protestants and the fears of the Catholics began to
revive, and the zeal of these parties produced every where disputes and
animosities, the usual preludes to more fatal divisions. The protector
had long been regarded as a secret partisan of the reformers; and being
now freed from restraint, he scrupled not to discover his intention of
correcting all abuses in the ancient religion, and of adopting still
more of the Protestant innovations. He took care that all persons
intrusted with the king’s education should be attached to the same
principles; and as the young prince discovered a zeal for every kind of
literature, especially the theological, far beyond his tender years,
all men foresaw, in the course of his reign, the total abolition of the
Catholic faith in England; and they early began to declare themselves in
favor of those tenets, which were likely to become in the end entirely
prevalent. After Southampton’s fall, few members of the council seemed
to retain any attachment to the Romish communion; and most of the
counsellors appeared even sanguine in forwarding the progress of the
reformation. The riches which most of them had acquired from the spoils
of the clergy, induced them to widen the breach between England and
Rome; and by establishing a contrariety of speculative tenets, as well
as of discipline and worship, to render a coalition with the mother
church altogether impracticable.[*] Their rapacity also, the chief
source of their reforming spirit, was excited by the prospect of
pillaging the secular, as they had already done the regular clergy; and
they knew that while any share of the old principles remained, or any
regard to the ecclesiastics, they could never hope to succeed in that
enterprise.
* Goodwin’s Annals. Heylin.
The numerous and burdensome superstitions with which the Romish church
was loaded had thrown many of the reformers by the spirit of opposition,
into an enthusiastic strain of devotion; and all rites, ceremonies,
pomp, order, and exterior observances were zealously proscribed by them,
as hinderances to their spiritual contemplations, and obstructions to
their immediate converse with Heaven. Many circumstances concurred to
inflame this daring spirit; the novelty itself of their doctrines, the
triumph of making proselytes, the furious persecutions to which they
were exposed, their animosity against the ancient tenets and practices,
and the necessity of procuring the concurrence of the laity by
depressing the hierarchy, and by tendering to them the plunder of the
ecclesiastics. Wherever the reformation prevailed over the opposition
of civil authority, this genius of religion appeared in its full extent,
and was attended with consequences, which, though less durable, were,
for some time, not less dangerous than those which were connected
with the ancient superstition. But as the magistrate took the lead in
England, the transition was more gradual; much of the ancient religion
was still preserved, and a reasonable degree of subordination was
retained in discipline, as well as some pomp, order, and ceremony in
public worship.
The protector, in his schemes for advancing the reformation, had always
recourse to the counsels of Cranmer, who, being a man of moderation and
prudence, was averse to all violent changes, and determined to bring
over the people, by insensible innovations, to that system of doctrine
and discipline which he deemed the most pure and perfect. He probably
also foresaw, that a system which carefully avoided the extremes of
reformation, was likely to be most lasting; and that a devotion, merely
spiritual, was fitted only for the first fervors of a new sect, and
upon the relaxation of these naturally gave place to the inroads of
superstition. He seems therefore to have intended the establishment of a
hierarchy, which, being suited to a great and settled government,
might stand as a perpetual barrier against Rome, and might retain
the reverence of the people, even after their enthusiastic zeal was
diminished, or entirely evaporated.
The person who opposed with greatest authority any further advances
towards reformation, was Gardiner, bishop of Winchester; who, though he
had not obtained a place in the council of regency, on account of
late disgusts which he had given to Henry, was entitled, by his age,
experience, and capacity, to the highest trust and confidence of his
party. This prelate still continued to magnify the great wisdom and
learning of the late king, which, indeed, were generally and sincerely
revered by the nation; and he insisted on the prudence, of persevering,
at least till the young king’s majority, in the ecclesiastical model
established by that great monarch. He defended the use of images, which
were now openly attacked by the Protestants; and he represented them
as serviceable in maintaining a sense of religion among the illiterate
multitude.[*] He even deigned to write an apology for “holy water,”
which Bishop Ridley had decried in a sermon; and he maintained that, by
the power of the Almighty, it might be rendered an instrument of doing
good, as much as the shadow of St. Peter, the hem of Christ’s garment,
or the spittle and clay laid upon the eyes of the blind.[**] Above all,
he insisted that the laws ought to be observed, that the constitution
ought to be preserved inviolate, and that it was dangerous to follow the
will of the sovereign, in opposition to an act of parliament.[***]
But though there remained at that time in England an idea of laws and a
constitution, sufficient at least to furnish a topic of argument to such
as were discontented with any immediate exercise of authority; this plea
could scarcely, in the present case, be maintained with any plausibility
by Gardiner. An act of parliament had invested the crown with a
legislative power; and royal proclamations, even during a minority, were
armed with the force of laws. The protector, finding himself supported
by this statute, was determined to employ his authority in favor of the
reformers; and having suspended, during the interval, the jurisdiction
of the bishops, he appointed a general visitation to be made in all the
dioceses of England.[****] The visitors consisted of a mixture of clergy
and laity, and had six circuits assigned them. The chief purport
of their instructions was, besides correcting immoralities and
irregularities in the clergy, to abolish the ancient superstitions, and
to bring the discipline and worship somewhat nearer the practice of the
reformed churches. The moderation of Somerset and Cranmer is apparent
in the conduct of this delicate affair. The visitors were enjoined to
retain for the present all images which had not been abused to idolatry;
and to instruct the people not to despise such ceremonies as were not
yet abrogated, but only to beware of some particular superstitions,
such as the sprinkling of their beds with holy water, and the ringing
of bells, or using of consecrated candles, in order to drive away the
devil.[v]
* Fox, vol. ii. p. 712.
** Fox, vol. ii. p. 724
*** Collier, vol. ii. p. 228. Fox, vol. ii.
**** Mem. Cranm. p. 146, 147, etc.
v Burnet, vol. ii. p. 28.
But nothing required more the correcting hand of authority than the
abuse of preaching, which was now generally employed throughout England
in defending the ancient practices and superstitions. The court of
augmentation, in order to ease the exchequer of the annuities paid to
monks, had commonly placed them in the vacant churches; and these
men were led by interest, as well as by inclination, to support those
principles which had been invented for the profit of the clergy. Orders
therefore were given to restrain the topics of theft sermons: twelve
homilies were published, which they were enjoined to read to the people:
and all of them were prohibited, without express permission, from
preaching any where but in their parish churches. The purpose of this
injunction was to throw a restraint on the Catholic divines; while
the Protestant, by the grant of particular licenses, should he allowed
unbounded liberty. Bonner made some opposition to these measures; but
soon after retracted and acquiesced. Gardiner was more high-spirited and
more steady. He represented the peril of perpetual innovations, and the
necessity of adhering to some system. “‘Tis a dangerous thing,” said
he, “to use too much freedom in researches of this kind. If you cut the
old canal, the water is apt to run farther than you have a mind to.
If you indulge the humor of novelty, you cannot put a stop to people’s
demands, nor govern their indiscretions at pleasure.” “For my part,”
said he, on another occasion “my sole concern is, to manage the third
and last act of my life with decency, and to make a handsome exit off
the stage. Provided this point is secured, I am not solicitous about the
rest. I am already by nature condemned to death: no man can give me
a pardon from this sentence; nor so much as procure me a reprieve. To
speak my mind, and to act as my conscience directs, are two branches of
liberty which I can never part with. Sincerity in speech, and integrity
in action, are entertaining qualities: they will stick by a man when
every thing else takes its leave; and I must not resign them upon any
consideration. The best on it is, if I do not throw them away myself, no
man can force them from me: but if I give them up, then am I ruined by
myself, and deserve to lose all my preferments.”[*] This opposition of
Gardiner drew on him the indignation of the council; and he was sent to
the Fleet, where he was used with some severity.
* Collier, vol. ii. p. 228, ex MS. Col. C. C. Cantab.
Bibliotheca Britannica, article Gardiner.
One of the chief objections urged by Gardiner against the new homilies
was, that they defined with the most metaphysical precision the
doctrines of grace, and of justification by faith; points, he thought,
which it was superfluous for any man to know exactly, and which
certainly much exceeded the comprehension of the vulgar. A famous
martyrologist calls Gardiner, on account of this opinion, “an insensible
ass, and one that had no feeling of God’s spirit in the matter of
justification.”[*] The meanest Protestant imagined, at that time, that
he had a full comprehension of all those mysterious doctrines; and he
heartily despised the most learned and knowing person of the ancient
religion, who acknowledged his ignorance with regard to them. It is
indeed certain, that the reformers were very fortunate in their
doctrine of justification; and might venture to foretell its success, in
opposition to all the ceremonies, shows, and superstitions of Popery.
By exalting Christ and his sufferings, and renouncing all claim to
independent merit in ourselves, it was calculated to become popular, and
coincided with those principles of panegyric and of self-abasement which
generally have place in religion.
* Fox. vol. ii.
Tonstal, bishop of Durham, having, as well as Gardiner, made some
opposition to the new regulations, was dismissed by the council; but no
further severity was for the present exercised against him. He was a man
of great moderation, and of the most unexceptionable character in the
kingdom.
The same religious zeal which engaged Somerset to promote the
reformation at home, led him to carry his attention to foreign
countries; where the interests of the Protestants were now exposed to
the most imminent danger. The Roman pontiff, with much reluctance, and
after long delays, had at last summoned a general council, which was
assembled at Trent, and was employed both in correcting the abuses of
the church, and in ascertaining her doctrines. The emperor, who desired
to repress the power of the court of Rome, as well as gain over the
Protestants, promoted the former object of the council; the pope, who
found his own greatness so deeply interested, desired rather to employ
them in the latter. He gave instructions to his legates, who presided in
the council, to protract the debates, and to engage the theologians in
argument, and altercation, and dispute concerning the nice points of
faith canvassed before them; a policy so easy to be executed, that the
legates soon found it rather necessary to interpose, in order to
appease the animosity of the divines, and bring them at last to some
decision.[*] The more difficult task for the legates was, to moderate
or divert the zeal of the council for reformation, and to repress the
ambition of the prelates, who desired to exalt the episcopal authority
on the ruins of the sovereign pontiff. Finding this humor become
prevalent, the legates, on pretence that the plague had broken out at
Trent, transferred of a sudden the council to Bologna, where they hoped
it would be more under the direction of his holiness.
The emperor, no less than the pope, had learned to make religion
subservient to his ambition and policy. He was resolved to employ the
imputation of heresy as a pretence for subduing the Protestant princes,
and oppressing the liberties of Germany; but found it necessary to cover
his intentions under deep artifice, and to prevent the combination
of his adversaries. He separated the Palatine and the elector of
Brandenburgh from the Protestant confederacy: he took arms against the
elector of Saxony and the landgrave of Hesse: by the fortune of war
he made the former prisoner: he employed treachery and prevarication
against the latter, and detained him captive, by breaking a safe-conduct
which he had granted him. He seemed to have reached the summit of his
ambition; and the German princes, who were astonished with his success,
were further discouraged by the intelligence which they had received
of the death, first of Henry VIII., then of Francis I., their usual
resources in every calamity.[**]
Henry II., who succeeded to the crown of France, was a prince of vigor
and abilities; but less hasty in his resolutions than Francis, and
less inflamed with rivalship and animosity against the emperor Charles.
Though he sent ambassadors to the princes of the Smalcaldic league, and
promised them protection, he was unwilling, in the commencement of his
reign, to hurry into a war with so great a power as that of the emperor;
and he thought that the alliance of those princes was a sure resource,
which he could at any time lay hold of.[***] He was much governed by the
duke of Guise and the cardinal of Lorraine; and he hearkened to their
counsel, in choosing rather to give immediate assistance to Scotland,
his ancient ally, which, even before the death of Henry VIII. had loudly
claimed the protection of the French monarchy.
* Father Paul, lib. ii.
** Sleidan.
*** Père Daniel
The hatred between the two factions, the partisans of the ancient and
those of the new religion, became every day more violent in Scotland;
and the resolution which the cardinal primate had taken, to employ the
most rigorous punishments against the reformers, brought matters to
a quick decision. There was one Wishart, a gentleman by birth, who
employed himself with great zeal in preaching against the ancient
superstitions, and began to give alarm to the clergy, who were justly
terrified with the danger of some fatal revolution in religion. This
man was celebrated for the purity of his morals, and for his extensive
learning; but these praises cannot be much depended on; because we know
that, among the reformers, severity of manners supplied the place of
many virtues; and the age was in general so ignorant, that most of the
priests in Scotland imagined the New Testament to be a composition of
Luther’s, and asserted that the Old alone was the Word of God.[*] [19]
But however the case may have stood with regard to those estimable
qualities ascribed to Wishart, he was strongly possessed with the desire
of innovation; and he enjoyed those talents which qualified him
for becoming a popular preacher, and for seizing the attention and
affections of the multitude. The magistrates of Dundee, where he
exercised his mission, were alarmed with his progress; and being unable
or unwilling to treat him with rigor, they contented themselves with
denying him the liberty of preaching, and with dismissing him the bounds
of their jurisdiction. Wishart, moved with indignation that they had
dared to reject him, together with the word of God, menaced them, in
imitation of the ancient prophets, with some imminent calamity; and he
withdrew to the west country, where he daily increased the number of his
proselytes.
* See note S, at the end of the volume.
Meanwhile, a plague broke out in Dundee; and all men exclaimed, that
the town had drawn down the vengeance of Heaven by banishing the pious
preacher, and that the pestilence would never cease, till they bed made
him atonement for their offence against him. No sooner did Wishart hear
of this change in their disposition, than he returned to them, and
made them a new tender of his doctrine: but lest he should spread the
contagion by bringing them together, he erected his pulpit on the top of
a gate; the infected stood within, the others without. And the preacher
failed not, in such a situation, to take advantage of the immediate
terrors of the people, and to enforce his evangelical mission.[*]
The assiduity and success of Wishart became an object of attention to
Cardinal Beatoun; and he resolved, by the punishment of so celebrated a
preacher, to strike a terror into all other innovators. He engaged
the earl of Bothwell to arrest him, and to deliver him into his hands,
contrary to a promise given by Bothwell to that unhappy man; and being
possessed of his prey, he conducted him to St. Andrews, where, after a
trial, he condemned him to the flames for heresy. Arran, the governor,
was irresolute in his temper; and the cardinal, though he had gained him
over to his party, found that he would not concur in the condemnation
and execution of Wishart. He determined, therefore, without the
assistance of the secular arm, to bring that heretic to punishment; and
he himself beheld from his window the dismal spectacle. Wishart suffered
with the usual patience, but could not forbear remarking the triumph of
his insulting enemy. He foretold that, in a few days, he should, in the
very same place, lie as low as now he was exalted aloft in opposition to
true piety and religion.[**]
* Knox’s Hist. of Ref. p. 44. Spotswood.
** Spotswood. Buchanan.
This prophecy was probably the immediate cause of the event which it
foretold. The disciples of this martyr, enraged at the cruel execution,
formed a conspiracy against the cardinal; and having associated to them
Norman Lesly, who was disgusted on account of some private quarrel, they
conducted their enterprise with great secrecy and success. Early in
the morning, they entered the cardinal’s palace, which he had strongly
fortified, and though they were not above sixteen persons, they thrust
out a hundred tradesmen and fifty servants, whom they seized separately,
before any suspicion arose of their intentions; and having shut the
gates, they proceeded very deliberately to execute their purpose on the
cardinal. That prelate had been alarmed with the noise which he heard
in the castle, and had barricadoed the door of his chamber; but finding
that they had brought fire in order to force their way, and having
obtained, as is believed, a promise of life, he opened the door, and
reminding them that he was a priest, he conjured them to spare him. Two
of the assassins rushed upon him with drawn swords; but a third, James
Melvil, more calm and more considerate in villany, stopped their career,
and bade them reflect, that this sacrifice was the work and judgment of
God, and ought to be executed with becoming deliberation and gravity.
Then turning the point of his sword towards Beatoun, he called to him,
“Repent thee, thou wicked cardinal, of all thy sins and iniquities,
especially of the murder of Wishart, that instrument of God for the
conversion of these lands: it is his death which now cries vengeance
upon thee: we are sent by God to inflict the deserved punishment. For
here, before the Almighty, I protest that it is neither hatred of thy
person, nor love of thy riches, nor fear of thy power, which moves me to
seek thy death; but only because thou hast been, and still remainest,
an obstinate enemy to Christ Jesus and his holy gospel.” Having spoken
these words, without giving Beatoun time to finish that repentance to
which he exhorted him, he thrust him through the body; and the cardinal
fell dead at his feet.[*] This murder was executed on the twenty-eighth
of May, 1546. The assassins, being reenforced by their friends to
the number of a hundred and forty persons, prepared themselves for the
defence of the castle, and sent a messenger to London craving assistance
from Henry. That prince, though Scotland was comprehended in his
peace with France, would not forego the opportunity of disturbing the
government of a rival kingdom; and he promised to take them under his
protection.
* The famous Scotch reformer, John Knox, calls James Melvil
(p. 65) a man most gentle and most modest. It is very
horrid, but at the same time somewhat amusing, to consider
the joy, and alacrity, and pleasure which that historian
discovers in his narrative of this assassination; and it is
remarkable, that in the first edition of his work, these
words were printed in the margin of the page: “The godly
Fact and Words of James Melvil.” But the following editors
retrenched them. Knox himself had no hand in the murder of
Beatoun; but he afterwards joined the assassins, and
assisted them in holding out the castle. See Keith’s Hist.
of the Rcf. of Scotland, p. 43.
It was the peculiar misfortune of Scotland, that five short reigns had
been followed successively by as many long minorities; and the execution
of justice, which the prince was beginning to introduce, had been
continually interrupted by the cabals, factions, and animosities of the
great. But besides these inveterate and ancient evils, a new source of
disorder had arisen, the disputes and contentions of theology which were
sufficient to disturb the most settled government; and the death of
the cardinal, who was possessed of abilities and vigor, seemed much
to weaken the hands of the administration. But the queen dowager was a
woman of uncommon talents and virtue; and she did as much to support the
government, and supply the weakness of Arran, the governor, as could be
expected in her situation.
The protector of England, as soon as the state was brought to some
composure, made preparations for war with Scotland; and he was
determined to execute, if possible, that project of uniting the two
kingdoms by marriage, on which the late king had been so intent, and
which he had recommended with his dying breath to his executors. He
levied an army of eighteen thousand men, and equipped a fleet of
sixty sail, one half of which were ships of war, the other laden with
provisions and ammunition. He gave the command of the fleet to Lord
Clinton; he himself marched at the head of the army, attended by the
earl of Warwick. These hostile measures were covered with a pretence of
revenging some depredations committed by the borderers: but besides that
Somerset revived the ancient claim of the superiority of the English
crown over that of Scotland, he refused to enter into negotiation on any
other condition than the marriage of the young queen with Edward.
The protector, before he opened the campaign, published a manifesto,
in which he enforced all the arguments for that measure. He said, that
nature seemed originally to have intended this island for one empire,
and having cut it off from all communication with foreign states, and
guarded it by the ocean, she had pointed out to the inhabitants the
road to happiness and to security; that the education and customs of the
people concurred with nature; and, by giving them the same language, and
laws, and manners, had invited them to a thorough union and coalition:
that fortune had at last removed all obstacles, and had prepared an
expedient by which they might become one people, without leaving any
place for that jealousy either of honor or of interest, to which rival
nations are naturally exposed: that the crown of Scotland had devolved
on a female; that of England on a male; and happily the two sovereigns,
as of a rank, were also of an age the most suitable to each other: that
the hostile dispositions which prevailed between the nations, and which
arose from past injuries, would soon be extinguished, after a long and
secure peace had established confidence between them: that the memory of
former miseries, which at present inflamed their mutual animosity,
would then serve only to make them cherish with more passion a state of
happiness and tranquillity so long unknown to their ancestors: that when
hostilities had ceased between the kingdoms, the Scottish nobility,
who were at present obliged to remain perpetually in a warlike posture,
would learn to cultivate the arts of peace, and would soften their minds
to a love of domestic order and obedience: that as this situation was
desirable to both kingdoms, so particularly to Scotland, which had been
exposed to the greatest miseries from intestine and foreign wars, and
saw herself every moment in danger of losing her independency by the
efforts of a richer and more powerful people: that though England had
claims of superiority, she was willing to resign every pretension for
the sake of future peace; and desired a union which would be the more
secure, as it would be concluded on terms entirely equal; and that,
besides all these motives, positive engagements had been taken for
completing this alliance; and the honor and good faith of the
nation were pledged to fulfil what her interest and safety so loudly
demanded.[*]
Somerset soon perceived that these remonstrances would have no
influence; and that the queen dowager’s attachment to France and to
the Catholic religion would render ineffectual all negotiations for the
intended marriage. He found himself, therefore, obliged to try the force
of arms, and to constrain the Scots by necessity to submit to a measure
for which they seemed to have entertained the most incurable aversion.
He passed the borders at Berwick, and advanced towards Edinburgh,
without meeting any resistance for some days, except from some small
castles, which he obliged to surrender at discretion. The protector
intended to have punished the governor and garrison of one of these
castles for their temerity in resisting such unequal force: but they
eluded his anger by asking only a few hours’ respite, till they should
prepare themselves for death; after which they found his ears more open
to their applications for mercy.[**]
* Sir John Haywood in Kennet, p. 279. Heylin, p. 42.
** Haywood. Patten.
The governor of Scotland had summoned together the whole force of the
kingdom; and his army, double in number to that of the English, had
taken post on advantageous ground, guarded by the banks of the Eske,
about four miles from Edinburgh. The English came within sight of them
at Faside; and after a skirmish between the horse, where the Scots were
worsted, and Lord Hume dangerously wounded, Somerset prepared himself
for a more decisive action. But having taken a view of the Scottish camp
with the earl of Warwick, he found it difficult to make an attempt upon
it with any probability of success. He wrote, therefore, another letter
to Arran; and offered to evacuate the kingdom, as well as to repair all
the damages which he had committed, provided the Scots would stipulate
not to contract the queen to any foreign prince, but to detain her at
home till she reached the age of choosing a husband for herself. So
moderate a demand was rejected by the Scots merely on account of its
moderation; and it made them imagine that the protector must either be
reduced to great distress, or be influenced by fear, that he was now
contented to abate so much of his former pretensions. Inflamed also by
their priests, who had come to the camp in great numbers, they believed
that the English were detestable heretics, abhorred of God, and exposed
to divine vengeance; and that no success could ever crown their arms.
They were confirmed in this fond conceit when they saw the protector
change his ground, and move towards the sea; nor did they any longer
doubt that he intended to embark his army, and make his escape on board
the ships which at that very time moved into the bay opposite to him.[*]
Determined therefore to cut off his retreat, they quitted their camp;
and passing the River Eske, advanced into the plain. They were divided
into three bodies: Angus commanded the vanguard; Arran the main body;
Huntley the rear: their cavalry consisted only of light horse, which
were placed on their left flank, strengthened by some Irish archers whom
Argyle had brought over for this service.
* Holingshed, p. 985.
Somerset was much pleased when he saw this movement of the Scottish
army; and as the English had usually been superior in pitched battles,
he conceived great hopes of success. He ranged his van on the left,
farthest from the sea; and ordered them to remain on the high grounds on
which he placed them, till the enemy should approach: he placed his main
battle and his rear towards the right; and beyond the van he posted
Lord Grey at the head of the men at arms, and ordered him to take the
Scottish van in flank, but not till they should be engaged in close
fight with the van of the English.
While the Scots were advancing on the plain, they were galled with the
artillery from the English ships: the eldest son of Lord Graham was
killed: the Irish archers were thrown into disorder; and even the other
troops began to stagger; when Lord Grey, perceiving their situation,
neglected his orders, left his ground, and at the head of his
heavy-armed horse made an attack on the Scottish infantry, in hopes of
gaining all the honor of the victory. On advancing, he found a slough
and ditch in his way; and behind were ranged the enemy armed with
spears, and the field on which they stood was fallow ground, broken with
ridges which lay across their front, and disordered the movements of
the English cavalry. From all these accidents, the shock of this body
of horse was feeble and irregular; and as they were received on the
points of the Scottish spears, which were longer than the lances of
the English horsemen, they were in a moment pierced, over-thrown, and
discomfited. Grey himself was dangerously wounded: Lord Edward Seymour,
son of the protector, had his horse killed under him: the standard was
near being taken: and had the Scots possessed any good body of cavalry,
who could have pursued the advantage, the whole English army had been
exposed to great danger.[*]
* Patter. Holingshed, p. 986.
The protector, meanwhile, assisted by Sir Ralph Sadler and Sir Ralph
Vane, employed himself with diligence and success in rallying the
cavalry. Warwick showed great presence of mind in maintaining the ranks
of the foot, on which the horse had recoiled: he made Sir Peter Meutas
advance, captain of the foot harquebusiers, and Sir Peter Gamboa,
captain of some Italian and Spanish harquebusiers on horseback; and
ordered them to ply the Scottish infantry with their shot. They marched
to the slough, and discharged their pieces full in the face of the
enemy: the ships galled them from the flank: the artillery, planted on
a height, infested them from the front: the English archers poured in a
shower of arrows upon them: and the vanguard, descending from the hill,
advanced leisurely and in good order towards them. Dismayed with all
these circumstances, the Scottish van began to retreat: the retreat soon
changed into a flight, which was begun by the Irish archers. The panic
of the van communicated itself to the main body, and passing thence to
the rear, rendered the whole field a scene of confusion, terror, flight,
and consternation. The English army perceived from the heights the
condition of the Scots, and began the pursuit with loud shouts and
acclamations, which added still more to the dismay of the vanquished.
The horse in particular, eager to revenge the affront which they had
received in the beginning of the day, did the most bloody execution on
the flying enemy; and from the field of battle to Edinburgh, for the
space of five miles, the whole ground was strowed with dead bodies. The
priests, above all, and the monks, received no quarter; and the
English made sport of slaughtering men who, from their extreme zeal
and animosity, had engaged in an enterprise so ill befitting their
profession. Few victories have been more decisive, or gained with
smaller loss to the conquerors. There fell not two hundred of the
English; and according to the most moderate computation, there perished
above ten thousand of the Scots. About fifteen hundred were taken
prisoners. This action was called the battle of Pinkey, from a
nobleman’s seat of that name in the neighborhood.
The queen dowager and Arran fled to Stirling, and were scarcely able
to collect such a body of forces as could check the incursions of small
parties of the English. About the same time, the earl of Lenox and Lord
Wharton entered the west marches, at the head of five thousand men; and
after taking and plundering Annan, they spread devastation over all
the neighboring counties.[*] Had Somerset prosecuted his advantages, he
might have imposed what terms he pleased on the Scottish nation: but he
was impatient to return to England, where, he heard, some counsellors,
and even his own brother, the admiral, were carrying on cabals against
his authority. Having taking the castles of Hume, Dunglass, Eymouth,
Fastcastle, Roxborough, and some other small places, and having
received the submission of some counties on the borders, he retired
from Scotland. The fleet, besides destroying all the shipping along the
coast, took Broughty, in the Frith of Tay; and having fortified it,
they there left a garrison. Arran desired leave to send commissioners
in order to treat of a peace; and Somerset, having appointed Berwick for
the place of conference, left Warwick with full powers to negotiate: but
no commissioners from Scotland ever appeared. The overture of the Scots
was an artifice, to gain time till succors should arrive from France.
* Holingshed, p. 992.
The protector, on his arrival in England, summoned a parliament: and
being somewhat elated with his success against the Scots, he procured
from his nephew a patent, appointing him to sit on the throne, upon
a stool or bench at the right hand of the king, and to enjoy the same
honors and privileges that had usually been possessed by any prince of
the blood, or uncle of the kings of England. In this patent the
king employed his dispensing power, by setting aside the statute of
precedency enacted during the former reign.[*] But if Somerset gave
offence by assuming too much state, he deserves great praise on account
of the laws passed this session, by which the rigor of former statutes
was much mitigated, and some security given to the freedom of the
constitution. All laws were repealed which extended the crime of treason
beyond the statute of the twenty-fifth of Edward III.;[**] all laws
enacted during the late reign extending the crime of felony; all the
former laws against Lollardy or heresy, together with the statute of
the six articles. None were to be accused for words, but within a month
after they were spoken. By these repeals several of the most rigorous
laws that ever had passed in England were annulled; and some dawn, both
of civil and religious liberty, began to appear to the people. Heresy,
however, was still a capital crime by the common law, and was subjected
to the penalty of burning. Only there remained no precise standard by
which that crime could be defined or determined; a circumstance which
might either be advantageous or hurtful to public security, according to
the disposition of the judges.
A repeal also passed of that law, the destruction of all laws, by which
the king’s proclamation was made of equal force with a statute.[***]
That other law, likewise, was mitigated, by which the king was empowered
to annul every statute passed before the four-and-twentieth year of his
age: he could prevent their future execution; but could not recall any
past effects which had ensued from them.[****]
* Rymer, vol. xv. p. 164.
** 1 Edward VI. c. 12.
*** 1 Edward VI. c. 2.
**** 1 Edward VI. c. 2.
It was also enacted, that all who denied the king’s supremacy, or
asserted the pope’s, should, for the first offence, forfeit their goods
and chattels, and suffer imprisonment during pleasure; for the second
offence, should incur the penalty of a “præmunire;” and for the third,
be attainted of treason. But if any, after the first of March ensuing,
endeavored, by writing, printing, or any overt act or deed, to deprive
the king of his estate or titles, particularly of his supremacy, or to
confer them on any other, he was to be adjudged guilty of treason. If
any of the heirs of the crown should usurp upon another, or endeavor to
break the order of succession, it was declared treason in them, their
aiders and abettors. These were the most considerable acts passed
during this session. The members in general discovered a very passive
disposition with regard to religion: some few appeared zealous for
the reformation: others secretly harbored a strong propensity to the
Catholic faith: but the greater part appeared willing to take any
impression which they should receive from interest authority, or the
reigning fashion.[*]
The convocation met at the same time with the parliament and as it was
found that their debates were at first cramped by the rigorous statute
of the six articles, the king granted them a dispensation from that law,
before it was repealed by parliament.[**] The lower house of convocation
applied to have liberty of sitting with the commons in parliament; or
if this privilege were refused them, which they claimed as their
ancient right, they desired that no law regarding religion might pass
in parliament without their consent and approbation. But the principles
which now prevailed were more favorable to the civil than to the
ecclesiastical power; and this demand of the convocation was rejected.
{1548.} The protector had assented to the repeal of that law which gave
to the king’s proclamations the authority of statutes; but he did not
intend to renounce that arbitrary or discretionary exercise of power,
in issuing proclamations, which had ever been assumed by the crown, and
which it is difficult to distinguish exactly from a full legislative
power. He even continued to exert this authority in some particulars,
which were then regarded as the most momentous. Orders were issued by
council, that candles should no longer be carried about on Candlemas
day, ashes on Ash Wednesday, palms on Palm Sunday.[***]
* Heylin, p. 48.
** Ant. Brit. p. 339.
*** Burnet, vol. ii p. 59. Collier, vol. ii. p. 241. Heylin,
p. 55.
These were ancient religious practices, now termed superstitions;
though it is fortunate for mankind, when superstition happens to take
a direction so innocent and inoffensive. The severe disposition which
naturally attends all reformers prompted likewise the council to abolish
some gay and showy ceremonies which belonged to the ancient religion.[*]
An order was also issued by council for the removal of all images from
the churches; an innovation which was much desired by the reformers,
and which alone, with regard to the populace, amounted almost to a total
change of the established religion.[**] An attempt had been made to
separate the use of images from their abuse, the reverence from the
worship of them; but the execution of this design was found, upon trial,
very difficult, if not wholly impracticable.
As private masses were abolished by law, it became necessary to compose
a new communion service; and the council went so far, in the preface
which they prefixed to this work, as to leave the practice of auricular
confession wholly indifferent.[***] This was a prelude to the entire
abolition of that invention, one of the most powerful engines that ever
was contrived for degrading the laity, and giving their spiritual guides
an entire ascendant over them. And it may justly be said, that, though
the priest’s absolution, which attends confession, serves somewhat to
ease weak minds from the immediate agonies of superstitious terror, it
operates only by enforcing superstition itself, and thereby preparing
the mind for a more violent relapse into the same disorders.
The people were at that time extremely distracted by the opposite
opinions of their preachers; and as they were totally unable to judge of
the reasons advanced on either side, and naturally regarded every thing
which they heard at church as of equal authority, a great confusion
and fluctuation resulted from this uncertainty. The council had first
endeavored to remedy the inconvenience by laying some restraints on
preaching; but finding this expedient ineffectual, they imposed a total
silence on the preachers, and thereby put an end at once to all the
polemics of the pulpit.[****] By the nature of things, this restraint
could only be temporary. For in proportion as the ceremonies of public
worship, its shows and exterior observances, were retrenched by the
reformers, the people were inclined to contract a stronger attachment
to sermons, whence alone they received any occupation or amusement. The
ancient religion, by giving its votaries something to do, freed them
from the trouble of thinking: sermons were delivered only in the
principal churches, and at some particular fasts and festivals: and the
practice of haranguing the populace, which, if abused, is so powerful
an incitement to faction and sedition, had much less scope and influence
during those ages.
* Burnet, vol. ii.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 60. Collier, vol. ii. p. 241. Heylin,
p. 55.
*** Burnet, vol. ii.
**** Fuller. Heylin. Burnet.
The greater progress was made towards a reformation in England, the
farther did the protector find himself from all prospect of completing
the union with Scotland; and the queen dowager, as well as the clergy,
became the more averse to all alliance with a nation which had so far
departed from all ancient principles. Somerset, having taken the town
of Haddington, had ordered it to be strongly garrisoned and fortified by
Lord Grey: he also erected some fortifications at Lauder; and he
hoped that these two places, together with Broughty and some smaller
fortresses which were in the hands of the English, would serve as a curb
on Scotland, and would give him access into the heart of the country.
Arran, being disappointed in some attempts on Broughty, relied chiefly
on the succors expected from France for the recovery of these places;
and they arrived at last in the frith, to the number of six thousand
men; half of them Germans. They were commanded by Dessé, and under him
by Andelot, Strozzi, Meilleraye, and Count Rhingrave. The Scots were at
that time so sunk by their misfortunes, that five hundred English horse
were able to ravage the whole country without resistance, and make
inroads to the gates of the capital:[*] but on the appearance of the
French succors, they collected more courage; and having joined Dessé
with a considerable reënforcement, they laid siege to Haddington.[**]
This was an undertaking for which they were by themselves totally unfit;
and even with the assistance of the French, they placed their chief
hopes of success in starving the garrison. After some vain attempts
to take the place by a regular siege, the blockade was formed, and the
garrison was repulsed with loss in several sallies which they made upon
the besiegers.
* Beagué, Hist. of the Campaigns, 1548 and 1549. p. 6.
** Holingshed, p. 993.
The hostile attempts which the late king and the protector had made
against Scotland, not being steady, regular, nor pushed to the last
extremity, had served only to imitate the nation, and to inspire them
with the strongest aversion to that union which was courted in so
violent a manner. Even those who were inclined to the English alliance
were displeased to have it imposed on them by force of arms; and the
earl of Huntley in particular said, pleasantly, that he disliked not the
match, but he hated the manner of wooing.[*] The queen dowager, finding
these sentiments to prevail, called a parliament in an abbey near
Haddington; and it was there proposed that the young queen, for her
greater security, should be sent to France, and be committed to the
custody of that ancient ally. Some objected that this measure was
desperate, allowed no resource in case of miscarriage, exposed the
Scots to be subjected by foreigners, involved them in perpetual war with
England, and left them no expedient by which they could conciliate the
friendship of that powerful nation. It was answered, on the other hand,
that the queen’s presence was the very cause of war with England; that
that nation would desist when they found that their views of forcing
a marriage had become altogether impracticable; and that Henry, being
engaged by so high a mark of confidence, would take their sovereign
under his protection, and use his utmost efforts to defend the kingdom.
These arguments were aided by French gold, which was plentifully
distributed among the nobles. The governor had a pension conferred on
him of twelve thousand livres a year, received the title of duke of
Chatelrault, and obtained for his son the command of a hundred men at
arms.[**] And as the clergy dreaded the consequences of the English
alliance, they seconded this measure with all the zeal and industry
which either principle or interest could inspire. It was accordingly
determined to send the queen to France; and, what was understood to be
the necessary consequence, to marry her to the dauphin. Villegaignon,
commander of four French galleys lying in the Frith of Forth, set sail
as if he intended to return home; but when he reached the open sea he
turned northwards, passed by the Orkneys, and came in on the west coast
at Dunbarton; an extraordinary voyage for ships of that fabric.[***] The
young queen was there committed to him; and, being attended by the lords
Ereskine and Livingstone, she put to sea, and, after meeting with some
tempestuous weather, arrived safely at Brest, whence she was conducted
to Paris, and soon after she was betrothed to the dauphin.
* Heylin, p. 46. Patten.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 83. Buchanan, lib. xv. Keith, p. 55.
Thuanus, lib. v. c. 15.
*** Thuanus, lib. v. c. 15.
Somerset, pressed by many difficulties at home and despairing of success
in his enterprise against Scotland, was desirous of composing the
differences with that kingdom, and he offered the Scots a ten years’
truce; but as they insisted on his restoring all the places which he had
taken, the proposal came to nothing. The Scots recovered the fortresses
of Hume and Fastcastle by surprise, and put the garrisons to the sword:
they repulsed with loss the English, who, under the command of Lord
Seymour, made a descent, first in Fife, then at Montrose: in the former
action, James Stuart, natural brother to the queen, acquired honor; in
the latter, Ereskine of Dun. An attempt was made by Sir Robert Bowes and
Sir Thomas Palmer, at the head of a considerable body, to throw relief
into Haddington; but these troops, falling into an ambuscade, were
almost wholly cut in pieces.[*] And though a small body of two hundred
men escaped all the vigilance of the French, and arrived safely in
Haddington with some ammunition and provisions, the garrison was reduced
to such difficulties, that the protector found it necessary to provide
more effectually for their relief. He raised an army of eighteen
thousand men, and adding three thousand Germans, who, on the dissolution
of the Protestant alliance, had offered their service to England, he
gave the command of the whole to the earl of Shrewsbury.[**] Dessé
raised the blockade on the approach of the English; and with great
difficulty made good his retreat to Edinburgh, where he posted himself
advantageously. Shrewsbury, who had lost the opportunity of attacking
him on his march, durst not give him battle in his present situation;
and contenting himself with the advantage already gained of supplying
Haddington, he retired into England.
* Stowe, p. 595. Holingshed, p, 994.
** Hayward, p. 291.
Though the protection of France was of great consequence to the Scots in
supporting them against the invasions of England, they reaped still more
benefit from the distractions and divisions which have crept into the
councils of this latter kingdom. Even the two brothers, the protector
and admiral, not content with the high stations which they severally
enjoyed, and the great eminence to which they had risen, had entertained
the most violent jealousy of each other; and they divided the whole
court and kingdom by their opposite cabals and pretensions. Lord Seymour
was a man of insatiable ambition; arrogant, assuming, implacable; and
though esteemed of superior capacity to the protector, he possessed
not to the same degree the confidence and regard of the people. By his
flattery and address, he had so insinuated himself into the good graces
of the queen dowager, that, forgetting her usual prudence and decency,
she married him immediately upon the demise of the late king; insomuch
that, had she soon proved pregnant, it might have been doubtful to
which husband the child belonged. The credit and riches of this alliance
supported the ambition of the admiral, but gave umbrage to the duchess
of Somerset, who, uneasy that the younger brother’s wife should have
the precedency, employed all her credit with her husband, which was
too great, first to create, then to widen the breach between the two
brothers.[*]
* Hayward, p. 301. Heylin, p. 72. Camden. Thuanus, lib. vi.
p. 6. Haynes, p. 69.
The first symptoms of this misunderstanding appeared when the protector
commanded the army in Scotland. Secretary Paget, a man devoted to
Somerset, remarked that Seymour was forming separate intrigues among the
counsellors; was corrupting by presents the king’s servants; and even
endeavoring, by improper indulgences and liberalities, to captivate the
affections of the young monarch. Paget represented to him the danger of
this conduct; desired him to reflect on the numerous enemies whom the
sudden elevation of their family had created; and warned him, that any
dissension between him and the protector would be greedily laid hold
of to effect the ruin of both. Finding his remonstrances neglected,
he conveyed intelligence of the danger to Somerset, and engaged him to
leave the enterprise upon Scotland unfinished, in order to guard against
the attempts of his domestic enemies. In the ensuing parliament, the
admiral’s projects appeared still more dangerous to public tranquillity;
and as he had acquired many partisans, he made a direct attack upon
his brother’s authority. He represented to his friends, that formerly,
during a minority, the office of protector of the kingdom had been
kept separate from that of governor of the king’s person; and that the
present union of these two important trusts conferred on Somerset an
authority which could not safely be lodged in any subject.[*] The young
king was even prevailed on to write a letter to the parliament desiring
that Seymour might be appointed his governor; and that nobleman had
formed a party in the two houses, by which he hoped to effect his
purpose. The design was discovered before its execution; and some common
friends were sent to remonstrate with him, but had so little influence,
that he threw out many menacing expressions, and rashly threatened that,
if he were thwarted in his attempt, he would make this parliament the
blackest that ever sat in England.[**] The council sent for him to
answer for his conduct; but he refused to attend: they then began to
threaten in their turn, and informed him that the king’s letter, instead
of availing him any thing to the execution of his views, would be
imputed to him as a criminal enterprise, and be construed as a design to
disturb the government, by forming a separate interest with a child and
minor. They even let fall some menaces of sending him to the Tower for
his temerity; and the admiral, finding himself prevented in his design,
was obliged to submit, and to desire a reconciliation with his brother.
The mild and moderate temper of Somerset made him willing to forget
these enterprises of the admiral; but the ambition of that turbulent
spirit could not be so easily appeased. His spouse, the queen dowager,
died in childbed; but so far from regarding this event as a check to
his aspiring views, he founded on it the scheme of a more extraordinary
elevation. He made his addresses to the lady Elizabeth, then in the
sixteenth year of her age; and that princess, whom even the hurry of
business and the pursuits of ambition could not, in her more advanced
years, disengage entirely from the tender passions, seems to have
listened to the insinuations of a man who possessed every talent proper
to captivate the affections of the fair.[***]
* Haynes, p. 82, 90.
** Haynes, p. 75.
*** Haynes, p. 95, 96, 102, 108.
But as Henry VIII. had excluded his daughters from all hopes of
succession if they married without the consent of his executors, which
Seymour could never hope to obtain, it was concluded that he meant to
effect his purpose by expedients still more rash and more criminal. All
the other measures of the admiral tended to confirm this suspicion. He
continued to attack, by presents, the fidelity of those who had more
immediate access to the king’s person: he endeavored to seduce the
young prince into his interest, he found means of holding a private
correspondence with him; he openly decried his brother’s administration;
and asserted that, by enlisting Germans and other foreigners he intended
to form a mercenary army, which might endanger the king’s authority, and
the liberty of the people: by promises and persuasion he brought over to
his party many of the principal nobility; and had extended his interest
all over England: he neglected not even the most popular persons of
inferior rank; and had computed that he could, on occasion, muster
an army of ten thousand men, composed of his servants, tenants, and
retainers:[*] he had already provided arms for their use; and having
engaged in his interests Sir John Sharington, a corrupt man, master
of the mint at Bristol, he flattered himself that money would not be
wanting. Somerset was well apprised of all these alarming circumstances,
and endeavored, by the most friendly expedients, by entreaty, reason,
and even by heaping new favors upon the admiral, to make him desist from
his dangerous counsels: but finding all endeavors ineffectual, he
began to think of more severe remedies. The earl of Warwick was an ill
instrument between the brothers; and had formed the design, by inflaming
the quarrel, to raise his own fortune on the ruins of both.
* Hayne, p. 105, 106.
Dudley, earl of Warwick, was the son of that Dudley, minister to Henry
VII., who, having, by rapine, extortion, and perversion of law, incurred
the hatred of the public, had been sacrificed to popular animosity in
the beginning of the subsequent reign. The late king, sensible of the
iniquity, at least illegality, of the sentence, had afterwards restored
young Dudley’s blood by act of parliament; and finding him endowed
with abilities, industry, and activity, he had intrusted him with
many important commands, and had ever found him successful in his
undertakings. He raised him to the dignity of Viscount Lisle, conferred
on him the office of admiral, and gave him by his will a place among his
executors. Dudley made still further progress during the minority; and
having obtained the title of earl of Warwick, and undermined the
credit of Southampton, he bore the chief rank among the protector’s
counsellors. The victory gained at Pinkey was much ascribed to his
courage and conduct; and he was universally regarded as a man equally
endowed with the talents of peace and of war. But all these virtues were
obscured by still greater vices; an exorbitant ambition, an insatiable
avarice, a neglect of decency, a contempt of justice: and as he found
that Lord Seymour, whose abilities and enterprising spirit he chiefly
dreaded, was involving himself in ruin by his rash counsels, he was
determined to push him on the precipice, and thereby remove the chief
obstacle to his own projected greatness.
When Somerset found that the public peace was endangered by his
brother’s seditious, not to say rebellious schemes, he was the more
easily persuaded by Warwick to employ the extent of royal authority
against him; and after depriving him of the office of admiral, he signed
a warrant for committing him to the Tower. Some of his accomplices were
also taker into custody; and three privy counsellors, being sent to
examine them, made a report, that they had met with very full and
important discoveries. Yet still the protector suspended the blow, and
showed a reluctance to ruin his brother. He offered to desist from the
prosecution, if Seymour would promise him a cordial reconciliation, and,
renouncing all ambitious hopes, be contented with a private life, and
retire into the country. But as Seymour made no other answer to these
friendly offers than menaces and defiances, he ordered a charge to be
drawn up against him, consisting of thirty-three articles;[*] and the
whole to be laid before the privy council. It is pretended, that every
particular was so incontestably proved, both by witnesses and his own
handwriting, that there was no room for doubt; yet did the council think
proper to go in a body to the Tower, in order more fully to examine the
prisoner. He was not daunted by the appearance: he boldly demanded a
fair trial; required to be confronted with the witnesses; desired
that the charge might be left with him, in order to be considered; and
refused to answer any interrogatories by which he might accuse himself.
* Buruet, Tol. ii. coll. 31. 2 and 3 Edward VI. c. 18.
It is apparent that, notwithstanding what is pretended, there must have
been some deficiency in the evidence against Seymour, when such demands,
founded on the plainest principles of law and equity, were absolutely
rejected. We shall indeed conclude, if we carefully examine the charge,
that many of the articles were general, and scarcely capable of
any proof many of them, if true, susceptible of a more favorable
interpretation; and that though, on the whole, Seymour appears to have
been a dangerous subject, he had not advanced far in those treasonable
projects imputed to him. The chief part of his actual guilt seems to
have consisted in some unwarrantable practices in the admiralty, by
which pirates were protected and illegal impositions laid upon the
merchants.
But the administration had at that time an easy instrument of vengeance,
to wit, the parliament; and needed not to give themselves any concern
with regard either to the guilt of the persons whom they prosecuted,
or the evidence which could be produced against them. A session of
parliament being held, it was resolved to proceed against Seymour
by bill of attainder; and the young king being induced, after much
solicitation, to give his consent to it, a considerable weight was put
on his approbation. The matter was first laid before the upper house;
and several peers, rising up in their places, gave an account of what
they knew concerning Lord Seymour’s conduct, and his criminal words or
actions.
{1549.} These narratives were received as undoubted evidence; and though
the prisoner had formerly engaged many friends and partisans among the
nobility, no one had either the courage or equity to move, that he
might be heard in his defence, that the testimony against him should be
delivered in a legal manner, and that he should be confronted with the
witnesses. A little more scruple was made in the house of commons:
there were even some members who objected against the whole method of
proceeding by bill of attainder passed in absence; and insisted, that a
formal trial should be given to every man before his condemnation. But
when a message was sent by the king, enjoining the house to proceed, and
offering that the same narratives should be laid before them which had
satisfied the peers, they were easily prevailed on to acquiesce.[*] The
bill passed in a full house. Near four hundred voted for it; not above
nine or ten against it.[**] The sentence was soon after executed, and
the prisoner was beheaded on Tower Hill. The warrant was signed by
Somerset, who was exposed to much blame, on account of the violence of
these proceedings. The attempts of the admiral seem chiefly to have
been levelled against his brother’s usurped authority; and though his
ambitious, enterprising character, encouraged by a marriage with the
lady Elizabeth, might have endangered the public tranquillity, the
prudence of foreseeing evils at such a distance was deemed too great,
and the remedy was plainly illegal. It could only be said, that this
bill of attainder was somewhat more tolerable than the preceding ones,
to which the nation had been inured; for here, at least, some shadow of
evidence was produced.
* 2 and 3 Edward VI. c. 18.
** Burnet vol. ii. p. 99.
All the considerable business transacted this session, besides the
attainder of Lord Seymour, regarded ecclesiastical affairs, which were
now the chief object of attention throughout the nation. A committee
of bishops and divines had been appointed by the council to compose
a liturgy; and they had executed the work committed to them. They
proceeded with moderation in this delicate undertaking; they retained
as much of the ancient mass as the principles of the reformers would
permit: they indulged nothing to the spirit of contradiction, which
so naturally takes place in all great innovations: and they flattered
themselves, that they had established a service in which every
denomination of Christians might without scruple concur. The mass had
always been celebrated in Latin; a practice which might have been deemed
absurd, had it not been found useful to the clergy, by impressing the
people with an idea of some mysterious unknown virtue in those rites,
and by checking all their pretensions to be familiarly acquainted with
their religion. But as the reformers pretended in some few particulars
to encourage private judgment in the laity, the translation of the
liturgy, as well as of the Scriptures, into the vulgar tongue, seemed
more conformable to the genius of their sect; and this innovation,
with the retrenching of prayers to saints, and of some superstitious
ceremonies, was the chief difference between the old mass and the new
liturgy. The parliament established this form of worship in all the
churches, and ordained a uniformity to be observed in all the rites and
ceremonies.[*]
* 2 and 3 Edward VI. c. 1.
There was another material act which passed this session. The former
canons had established the celibacy of the clergy; and though this
practice is usually ascribed to the policy of the court of Rome, who
thought that the ecclesiastics would be more devoted to their spiritual
head, and less dependent on the civil magistrate, when freed from
the powerful tie of wives and children, yet was this institution much
forwarded by the principles of superstition inherent in human nature.
These principles had rendered the panegyrics on an inviolate chastity
so frequent among the ancient fathers, long before the establishment of
celibacy. And even this parliament, though they enacted a law permitting
the marriage of priests, yet confess in the preamble, “that it were
better for priests and the ministers of the church to live chaste and
without marriage, and it were much to be wished they would of themselves
abstain.” The inconveniences which had arisen from the compelling of
chastity and the prohibiting of marriage, are the reasons assigned for
indulging a liberty in this particular.[*] The ideas of penance also
were so much retained in other particulars, that an act of parliament
passed, forbidding the use of flesh meat during Lent and other times of
abstinence.[**] [20]
The principal tenets and practices of the Catholic religion were now
abolished, and the reformation, such as it is enjoyed at present, was
almost entirely completed in England. But the doctrine of the real
presence, though tacitly condemned by the new communion service, and
by the abolition of many ancient rites, still retained some hold on the
minds of men: and it was the last doctrine of Popery that was wholly
abandoned by the people.[***] The great attachment of the late king
to that tenet might, in part, be the ground of this obstinacy: but the
chief cause was really the extreme absurdity of the principle itself,
and the profound veneration, which, of course, it impressed on the
imagination. The priests, likewise, were much inclined to favor an
opinion which attributed to them so miraculous a power; and the people,
who believed that they participated of the very body and blood of their
Savior, were loath to renounce so extraordinary, and, as they imagined,
so salutary a privilege. The general attachment to this dogma was so
violent, that the Lutherans, notwithstanding their separation from Rome,
had thought proper, under another name, still to retain it; and the
Catholic preachers in England, when restrained in all other particulars,
could not forbear, on every occasion, inculcating that tenet. Bonner,
for this offence among others, had been tried by the council, had been
deprived of his see, and had been committed to custody. Gardiner, also,
who had recovered his liberty, appeared anew refractory to the authority
which established the late innovations; and he seemed willing to
countenance that opinion, much favored by all the English Catholics,
that the king was indeed supreme head of the church, but not the council
during a minority. Having declined to give full satisfaction on this
head, he was sent to the Tower, and threatened with further effects of
the council’s displeasure.
* 2 and 3 Edward VI. cap. 21.
** 2 and 3 Edward VI. cap. 19. See note T. at the end of the
volume.
*** Burnet, vol. ii, p 104.
These severities, being exercised on men possessed of office and
authority, seemed in that age a necessary policy, in order to enforce
a uniformity in public worship and discipline; but there were other
instances of persecution, derived from no origin but the bigotry
of theologians; a malady which seems almost incurable. Though the
Protestant divines had ventured to renounce opinions deemed certain
during many ages, they regarded, in their turn, the new system as so
certain, that they would suffer no contradiction with regard to it; and
they were ready to burn in the same flames from which they themselves
had so narrowly escaped, every one that had the assurance to differ from
them. A commission, by act of council, was granted to the primate and
some others, to examine and search after all Anabaptists, heretics, or
contemners of the Book of Common Prayer.[*]
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 3. Rymer, tom. xv. p. 181.
The commissioners were enjoined to reclaim them, if possible; to impose
penance on them, and to give them absolution; or, if these criminals
were obstinate, to excommunicate and imprison them, and to deliver them
over to the secular arm: and in the execution of this charge, they were
not bound to observe the ordinary methods of trial; the forms of law
were dispensed with; and if any statutes happened to interfere with
the powers in the commission, they were overruled and abrogated by
the council. Some tradesmen in London were brought before these
commissioners, and were accused of maintaining, among other opinions,
that a man regenerate could not sin, and that, though the outward man
might offend, the inward was incapable of all guilt. They were prevailed
on to abjure, and were dismissed. But there was a woman accused of
heretical pravity, called Joan Bocher, or Joan of Kent, who was so
pertinacious, that the commissioners could make no impression upon her
Her doctrine was, “that Christ was not truly incarnate of the Virgin,
whose flesh, being the outward man, was sinfully begotten, and born in
sin, and, consequently, he could take none of it; but the Word, by
the consent of the inward man of the Virgin, was made flesh.”[*] This
opinion, it would seem, is not orthodox; and there was a necessity for
delivering the woman to the flames for maintaining it. But the
young king, though in such tender years, had more sense than all his
counsellors and preceptors; and he long refused to sign the warrant for
her execution. Cranmer was employed to persuade him to compliance;
and he said, that there was a great difference between errors in other
points of divinity, and those which were in direct contradiction to
the apostles’ creed: these latter were impieties against God, which
the prince, being God’s deputy, ought to repress, in like manner, as
inferior magistrates were bound to punish offences against the king’s
person. Edward, overcome by importunity, at last submitted, though with
tears in his eyes; and he told Cranmer, that if any wrong were done, the
guilt should lie entirely on his head. The primate, after making a new
effort to reclaim the woman from her errors, and finding her obstinate
against all his arguments, at last committed her to the flames. Some
time after, a Dutchman, called Van Paris, accused of the heresy which
has received the name of Arianism, was condemned to the same punishment.
He suffered with so much satisfaction, that he hugged and caressed the
fagots that were consuming him; a species of frenzy of which there is
more than one instance among the martyrs of that age.[**]
These rigorous methods of proceeding soon brought the whole nation to a
conformity, seeming or real, with the new doctrine and the new liturgy.
The lady Mary alone continued to adhere to the mass, and refused to
admit the established modes of worship. When pressed and menaced on
this head, she applied to the emperor, who, using his interest with
Sir Philip Hobby, the English ambassador, procured her a temporary
connivance from the council.[***]
* Burnet, vol. ii. coll. 35 Strype’s Mem. Cranm. p. 181.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 112. Strype’s Mem. Cranm. p. 181.
*** Heylin, p. 102
CHAPTER XXXV
EDWARD VI.
{1549.} There is no abuse so great in civil society, as not to be
attended with a variety of beneficial consequence; and in the beginnings
of reformation, the loss of these advantages is always felt very
sensibly, while the benefit, resulting from the change is the slow
effect of time, and is seldom perceived by the bulk of a nation. Scarce
any institution can be imagined less favorable, in the main, to the
interests of mankind than that of monks and friars; yet was it followed
by many good effects, which, having ceased by the suppression of
monasteries, were much regretted by the people of England. The monks,
always residing in their convents, in the centre of their estates, spent
their money in the provinces and among their tenants, afforded a ready
market for commodities, were a sure resource to the poor and indigent;
and though their hospitality and charity gave but too much encouragement
to idleness, and prevented the increase of public riches, yet did
it provide to many a relief from the extreme pressures of want and
necessity. It is also observable, that as the friars were limited by
the rules of their institution to a certain mode of living, they had not
equal motives for extortion with other men, and they were acknowledged
to have been in England, as they still are in Roman Catholic countries,
the best and most indulgent landlords. The abbots and priors were
permitted to give leases at an under-value, and to receive in return a
large present from the tenant, in the same manner as is still practised
by the bishops and colleges. But when the abbey lands were distributed
among the principal nobility and courtiers, they fell under a different
management: the rents of farms were raised, while the tenants found not
the same facility in disposing of the produce; the money was often spent
in the capital, and the farmers, living at a distance, were exposed to
oppression from their new masters, or to the still greater rapacity of
the stewards.
These grievances of the common people were at that time heightened by
other causes. The arts of manufacture were much more advanced in other
European countries than in England; and even in England these arts had
made greater progress than the knowledge of agriculture; a profession
which of all mechanical employments, requires the most reflection and
experience. A great demand arose for wool both abroad and at home:
pasturage was found more profitable than unskilful tillage: whole
estates were laid waste by enclosures; the tenants, regarded as a
useless burden, were expelled their habitations; even the cottagers,
deprived of the commons on which they formerly fed their cattle, were
reduced to misery; and a decay of people, as well as a diminution of the
former plenty, was remarked in the kingdom.[*] This grievance was now
of an old date, and Sir Thomas More, alluding to it, observes in his
Utopia, that a sheep had become in England a more ravenous animal than a
lion or wolf, and devoured whole villages, cities, and provinces.
* Strype, vol. ii. Repository, Q.
The general increase, also, of gold and silver in Europe, after
the discovery of the West Indies, had a tendency to inflame these
complaints. The growing demand in the more commercial countries had
heightened every where the price of commodities, which could easily be
transported thither; but in England, the labor of men, who could not
so easily change their habitation, still remained nearly at the
ancient rates, and the poor complained that they could no longer gain a
subsistence by their industry. It was by an addition alone of toil and
application they were enabled to procure a maintenance; and though this
increase of industry was at last the effect of the present situation,
and an effect beneficial to society, yet was it difficult for the people
to shake off their former habits of indolence; and nothing but necessity
could compel them to such an exertion of their faculties.
It must also be remarked, that the profusion of Henry VIII. had reduced
him, notwithstanding his rapacity, to such difficulties, that he had
been obliged to remedy a present necessity by the pernicious expedient
of debasing the coin; and the wars in which the protector had been
involved, had induced him to carry still further the same abuse. The
usual consequences ensued: the good specie was hoarded or exported; base
metal was coined at home, or imported from abroad in great abundance;
the common people, who received their wages in it, could not purchase
commodities at the usual rates: a universal diffidence and stagnation
of commerce took place; and loud complaints were heard in every part of
England.
The protector, who loved popularity, and pitied the condition of the
people, encouraged these complaints by his endeavors to redress them.
He appointed a commission for making inquiry concerning enclosures; and
issued a proclamation, ordering all late enclosures to be laid open by
a day appointed. The populace, meeting with such countenance from
government, began to rise in several places, and to commit disorders;
but were quieted by remonstrances and persuasion. In order to give them
greater satisfaction, Somerset appointed new commissioners, whom he sent
every where, with an unlimited power to hear and determine all causes
about enclosures, highways, and cottages.[*] As this commission
was disagreeable to the gentry and nobility, they stigmatized it as
arbitrary and illegal; and the common people, fearing it would be
eluded, and being impatient for immediate redress, could no longer
contain their fury, but sought for a remedy by force of arms. The rising
began at once in several parts of England, as if a universal conspiracy
had been formed by the commonalty. The rebels in Wiltshire were
dispersed by Sir William Herbert: those in’ the neighboring counties,
Oxford and Glocester, by Lord Gray, of Wilton. Many of the rioters were
killed in the field: others were executed by martial law. The commotions
in Hampshire, Sussex, Kent, and other counties, were quieted by gentler
expedients; but the disorders in Devonshire and Norfolk threatened more
dangerous consequences.
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 115. Strype, vol. ii. p. 171.
The commonalty in Devonshire began with the usual complaints against
enclosures and against oppressions from the gentry; but the parish
priest of Sampford Courtenay had the address to give their discontent
a direction towards religion; and the delicacy of the subject, in the
present emergency, made the insurrection immediately appear formidable.
In other counties, the gentry had kept closely united with government;
but here many of them took part with the populace among others, Humphrey
Arundel, governor of St. Michael’s Mount. The rioters were brought
into the form of a regular army, which amounted to the number of ten
thousand. Lord Russel had been sent against them at the head of a small
force; but finding himself too weak to encounter them in the field,
he kept at a distance, and began to negotiate with them; in hopes of
eluding their fury by delay, and of dispersing them by the difficulty of
their subsisting in a body. Their demands were, that the mass should be
restored, half of the abbey lands resumed, the law of the six articles
executed, holy water and holy bread respected, and all other particular
grievances redressed.[*] The council, to whom Russet transmitted these
demands, sent a haughty answer; commanded the rebels to disperse, and
promised them pardon upon their immediate submission. Enraged at this
disappointment, they marched to Exeter, carrying before them crosses,
banners, holy water, candlesticks, and other implements of ancient
superstition; together with the host, which they covered with a
canopy.[**] The citizens of Exeter shut their gates; and the rebels, as
they had no cannon, endeavored to take the place, first by scalade, then
by mining; but were repulsed in every attempt. Russel meanwhile lay at
Honiton, till reënforced by Sir William Herbert and Lord Gray with some
German horse, and some Italian arquebusiers under Battista Spinola. He
then resolved to attempt the relief of Exeter, which was now reduced to
extremities. He attacked the rebels, drove them from all their posts,
did great execution upon them, both in the action and pursuit,[***] and
took many prisoners. Arundel and the other leaders were sent to London,
tried, and executed. Many of the inferior sort were put to death
by martial law:[****] the vicar of St. Thomas, one of the principal
incendiaries, was hanged on the top of his own steeple, arrayed in his
Popish weeds, with his beads at his girdle.[v]
* Hayward, p. 292. Holingshed, p. 1003. Fox, vol. ii, p.
€61[** Unreadable in the OCR Scan] Mem. Cranm. p. 186.
** Heylin, p. 76.
*** Stowe’s Annals. p. 597. Hayward, p. 295.
**** Hayward, p. 295, 296.
v Heylin, p. 76. Holingshed, p 1026.
The insurrection in Norfolk rose to a still greater height, and was
attended with greater acts of violence. The populace were at first
excited, as in other places, by complaints against enclosures; but
finding their numbers amount to twenty thousand, they grew insolent, and
proceeded to more exorbitant pretensions. They required the suppression
of the gentry, the placing of new counsellors about the king, and the
reëstablishment of the ancient rites. One Ket, a tanner, had assumed
the government over them; and he exercised his authority with the utmost
arrogance and outrage. Having taken possession of Moushold Hill near
Norwich, he erected his tribunal under an old oak, thence called the oak
of reformation; and summoning the gentry to appear before him, he gave
such decrees as might be expected from his character and situation. The
marquis of Northampton was first ordered against him; but met with a
repulse in an action, where Lord Sheffield was killed.[*] The protector
affected popularity, and cared not to appear in person against the
rebels; he therefore sent the earl of Warwick at the head of six
thousand men, levied for the wars against Scotland; and he thereby
afforded his mortal enemy an opportunity of increasing his reputation
and character. Warwick, having tried some skirmishes with the rebels,
at last made a general attack upon them, and put them to flight. Two
thousand fell in the action and pursuit: Ket was hanged at Norwich
Castle, nine of his followers on the boughs of the oak of reformation;
and the insurrection was entirely suppressed. Some rebels in Yorkshire,
learning the fate of their companions, accepted the offers of pardon,
and threw down their arms. A general indemnity was soon after published
by the protector.[**]
* Stowe, p. 597. Holingshed, p. 1030-34. Strype, vol. ii. p.
174.
** Hayward, p. 297, 298, 299.
But though the insurrections were thus quickly subdued in England,
and no traces of them seemed to remain, they were attended with bad
consequences to the foreign interests of the nation. The forces of the
earl of Warwick, which might have made a great impression on Scotland,
were diverted from that enterprise; and the French general had leisure
to reduce that country to some settlement and composure. He took the
fortress of Broughty, and put the garrison to the sword. He straitened
the English at Haddington; and though Lord Dacres was enabled to throw
relief into the place, and to reenforce the garrison, it was found at
last very chargeable, and even impracticable, to keep possession of that
fortress. The whole country in the neighborhood was laid waste by the
inroads both of the Scots and English, and could afford no supply to the
garrison: the place lay above thirty miles from the borders; so that a
regular army was necessary to escort any provisions thither: and as the
plague had broken out among the troops, they perished daily, and were
reduced to a state of great weakness. For these reasons, orders were
given to dismantle Haddington, and to convey the artillery and garrison
to Berwick; and the earl of Rutland, now created warden of the east
marches, executed the orders.
The king of France also took advantage of the distractions among the
English, and made an attempt to recover Boulogne and that territory
which Henry VIII. had conquered from France, On other pretences, he
assembled an army, and falling suddenly upon the Boulonnois, took the
castles of Sellaque, Blackness, and Ambleteuse, though well supplied
with garrisons, ammunition, and provisions.[*] He endeavored to surprise
Boulenberg, and was repulsed; but the garrison, not thinking the place
tenable after the loss of the other fortresses, destroyed the works, and
retired to Boulogne. The rains, which fell in great abundance during the
autumn, and a pestilential distemper which broke out in the French camp,
deprived Henry of all hopes of success against Boulogne itself; and
he retired to Paris.[**] He left the command of the army to Gaspar de
Coligny, lord of Chatillon, so famous afterwards by the name of Admiral
Coligny; and he gave him orders to form the siege early in the spring.
The active disposition of this general engaged him to make, during
the winter, several attempts against the place; but they all proved
unsuccessful.
Strozzi, who commanded the French fleet and galleys, endeavored to
make a descent on Jersey; but meeting there with an English fleet, he
commenced an action, which seems not to have been decisive, since the
historians of the two nations differ in their account of the event.[***]
* Thuanus, lib. vi. c. 6.
** Hayward, p. 300.
*** Thuan. King Edward’s Journal. Stowe, p. 597.
As soon as the French war broke out, the protector endeavored to fortify
himself with the alliance of the emperor; and he sent over Secretary
Paget to Brussels, where Charles then kept court, in order to assist
Sir Philip Hobby, the resident ambassador, in this negotiation. But that
prince had formed a design of extending his dominions by acting the part
of champion for the Catholic religion; and though extremely desirous
of accepting the English alliance against France, his capital enemy,
he thought it unsuitable to his other pretensions to enter into strict
confederacy with a nation which had broken off all connections with the
church of Rome. He therefore declined the advances of friendship from
England, and eluded the applications of the ambassadors. An exact
account is preserved of this negotiation in a letter of Hobby’s; and
it is remarkable, that the emperor, in a conversation with the English
ministers, asserted, that the prerogatives of a king of England were
more extensive than those of a king of France.[*] Burnet, who preserves
this letter, subjoins, as a parallel instance, that one objection which
the Scots made to marrying their queen with Edward was, that all their
privileges would be swallowed up by the great prerogative of the kings
of England.[**]
Somerset, despairing of assistance from the emperor, was inclined to
conclude a peace with France and Scotland; and besides that he was not
in a condition to maintain such ruinous wars, he thought that there no
longer remained any object of hostility. The Scots had sent away their
queen; and could not, if ever so much inclined, complete the marriage
contracted with Edward; and as Henry VIII. had stipulated to restore
Boulogne in 1554, it seemed a matter of small moment to anticipate a few
years the execution of the treaty. But when he proposed these reasons to
the council, he met with strong opposition from his enemies; who, seeing
him unable to support the war, were determined, for that very reason,
to oppose all proposals for a pacification. The factions ran high in
the court of England; and matters were drawing to an issue fatal to the
authority of the protector.
After Somerset obtained the patent investing him with regal authority,
he no longer paid any attention to the opinion of the other executors
and counsellors; and being elated with his high dignity, as well as with
his victory at Pinkey, he thought that every one ought, in every thing,
to yield to his sentiments. All those who were not entirely devoted to
him were sure to be neglected; whoever opposed his will received marks
of anger or contempt;[***] and while he showed a resolution to govern
every thing, his capacity appeared not in any respect proportioned to
his ambition. Warwick, more subtle and artful, covered more exorbitant
views under fairer appearances, and having associated himself with
Southampton, who had been readmitted into the council, he formed a
strong party who were determined to free themselves from the slavery
imposed on them by the protector.
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 132, 175.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 133.
*** Strype, vol ii. p. 181.
The malecontent counsellors found the disposition of the nation
favorable to their designs. The nobility and gentry were in general
displeased with the preference which Somerset seemed to have given to
the people; and as they ascribed all the insults to which they had been
lately exposed to his procrastination, and to the countenance shown to
the multitude, they apprehended a renewal of the same disorders from his
present affectation of popularity. He had erected a court of requests
in his own house for the relief of the people,[*] and he interposed with
the judges in their behalf; a measure which might be deemed illegal, if
any exertion of prerogative at that time could with certainty deserve
that appellation. And this attempt, which was a stretch of power, seemed
the more impolitic, because it disgusted the nobles, the surest support
of monarchical authority.
* Strype, vol. ii. p. 183.
But though Somerset courted the people, the interest which he had formed
with them was in no degree answerable to his expectations. The Catholic
party who retained influence with the lower ranks, were his declared
enemies, and took advantage of every opportunity to decry his conduct.
The attainder and execution of his brother bore an odious aspect: the
introduction of foreign troops into the kingdom was represented in
invidious colors: the great estate which he had suddenly acquired at the
expense of the church and of the crown, rendered him obnoxious; and the
palace which he was building in the Strand, served by its magnificence,
and still more by other circumstances which attended it, to expose him
to the censure of the public. The parish church of St. Mary, with
three bishops’ houses, was pulled down, in order to furnish ground
and materials for this structure: not content with that sacrilege, an
attempt was made to demolish St. Margaret’s Westminster, and to employ
the stones to the same purpose but the parishioners rose in a tumult,
and chased away the protector’s tradesmen. He then laid his hands on
a chapel in St. Paul’s churchyard, with a cloister and charnel-house
belonging to it; and these edifices, together with a church of St. John
of Jerusalem, were made use of to raise his palace. What rendered the
matter more odious to the people was, that the tombs and other monuments
of the dead wore defaced; and the bones, being carried away, were buried
in unconsecrated ground.[*]
All these imprudences were remarked by Somerset’s enemies, who resolved
to take advantage of them. Lord St. John president of the council, the
earls of Warwick, Southampton and Arundel, with five members more, met
at Ely House and, assuming to themselves the whole power of the council,
began to act independently of the protector, whom they represented as
the author of every public grievance and misfortune. They wrote letters
to the chief nobility and gentry in England, informing them of the
present measures, and requiring their assistance: they sent for the
mayor and aldermen of London, and enjoined them to obey their orders,
without regard to any contrary orders which they might receive from the
duke of Somerset. They laid the same injunctions on the lieutenant of
the Tower, who expressed his resolution to comply with them. Next
day, Rich, lord chancellor, the marquis of Northampton, the earl of
Shrewsbury, Sir Thomas Cheney, Sir John Gage, Sir Ralph Sadler, and
Chief Justice Montague, joined the malecontent counsellors; and every
thing bore a bad aspect for the protector’s authority. Secretary Petre,
whom he had sent to treat with the council, rather chose to remain with
them: the common council of the city, being applied to, declared with
one voice their approbation of the new measures, and their resolution of
supporting them.[**]
* Heylin, p. 72, 73. Stowe’s Survey of London. Hayward,
p.308.
** Stowe, p. 597, 598. Holingshed, p. 1057.
As soon as the protector heard of the defection of the counsellors,
he removed the king from Hampton Court, where he then resided, to the
Castle of Windsor; and arming his friends and servants, seemed resolute
to defend himself against all his enemies. But finding that no man of
rank, except Cranmer and Paget, adhered to him, that the people did not
rise at his summons, that the city and Tower had declared against
him, that even his best friends had deserted him, he lost all hopes of
success, and began to apply to his enemies for pardon and forgiveness.
No sooner was this despondency known, than Lord Russell, Sir John Baker,
speaker of the house of commons, and three counsellors more, who had
hitherto remained neuters, joined the party of Warwick, whom every
one now regarded as master. The council informed the public, by
proclamation, of their actions and intentions; they wrote to the
princesses Mary and Elizabeth to the same purpose; and they made
addresses to the king, in which, after the humblest protestations
of duty and submission, they informed him that they were the council
appointed by his father for the government of the kingdom during his
minority; that they had chosen the duke of Somerset protector, under
the express condition that he should guide himself by their advice and
direction; that he had usurped the whole authority, and had neglected,
and even in every thing opposed, their counsel; that he had proceeded
to that height of presumption, as to levy forces against them and place
these forces about his majesty’s person: they therefore begged that they
might be admitted to his royal presence, that he would be pleased to
restore them to his confidence, and that Somerset’s servants might be
dismissed. Their request was complied with: Somerset capitulated only
for gentle treatment, which was promised him. He was, however, sent to
the Tower,[*] with some of his friends and partisans, among whom was
Cecil, afterwards so much distinguished. Articles of indictment were
exhibited against him;[**] of which the chief, at least the best
founded, is his usurpation of the government, and his taking into his
own hands the whole administration of affairs. The clause of his patent,
which invested him with absolute power, unlimited by any law, was never
objected to him; plainly because, according to the sentiments of those
times, that power was in some degree involved in the very idea of regal
authority.
* Stowe, p. 600.
** Burner, vol. ii. book i. coll. 46. Hayward, p. 308.
Stowe, p. 601 Holingshed, p. 1059.
The Catholics were extremely elated with this revolution; and as they
had ascribed all the late innovations to Somerset’s authority, they
hoped that his fall would prepare the way for the return of the ancient
religion. But Warwick, who now bore chief sway in the council, was
entirely indifferent with regard to all these points of controversy;
and finding that the principles of the reformation had sunk deeper into
Edward’s mind than to be easily eradicated, he was determined to comply
with the young prince’s inclinations, and not to hazard his new-acquired
power by any dangerous enterprise. He took care very early to express
his intentions of supporting the reformation; and he threw such
discouragements on Southampton, who stood at the head of the Romanists,
and whom he considered as a dangerous rival, that that high-spirited
nobleman retired from the council, and soon after died from vexation
and disappointment. The other counsellors, who had concurred in the
revolution, received their reward by promotions and new honors. Russel
was created earl of Bedford: the marquis of Northampton obtained the
office of great chamberlain; and Lord Wentworth, besides the office of
chamberlain of the household, got two large manors, Stepney and Hackney,
which were torn from the see of London.[*] A council of regency was
formed; not that which Henry’s will had appointed for the government of
the kingdom, and which, being founded on an act of parliament, was the
only legal one, but composed chiefly of members who had formerly been
appointed by Somerset, and who derived their seat from an authority
which was now declared usurped and illegal. But such niceties were,
during that age, little understood, and still less regarded, in England.
A session of parliament was held; and as it was the usual maxim of that
assembly to acquiesce in every administration which was established, the
council dreaded no opposition from that quarter, and had more reason to
look for a corroboration of their authority. Somerset had been prevailed
on to confess, on his knees, before the council, all the articles
of charge against him; and he imputed these misdemeanors to his
own rashness, folly, and indiscretion, not to any malignity of
intention.[**] He even subscribed this confession; and the paper was
given in to parliament, who, after sending a committee to examine him,
and hear him acknowledge it to be genuine, passed a vote, by which they
deprived him of all his offices, and fined him two thousand pounds a
year in land. Lord St. John was created treasurer in his place, and
Warwick earl marshal. The prosecution against him was carried no
further. His fine was remitted by the king: he recovered his liberty:
and Warwick, thinking that he was now sufficiently humbled, and that
his authority was much lessened by his late tame and abject behavior,
readmitted him into the council, and even agreed to an alliance between
their families, by the marriage of his own son, Lord Dudley, with the
Lady Jane Seymour, daughter of Somerset.[***]
* Heylin, p. 85. Rymer, tom. xv. p. 226.
** Heylin, p. 84. Hayward, p. 309. Stowe, p. 603.
*** Hayward, p. 309 * 3 and 4 Edward VI. c. 5.
During this session, a severe law was passed against riots.[*] It was
enacted, that if any, to the number of twelve persons, should meet
together for any matter of state, and being required by a lawful
magistrate, should not disperse, it should be treason; and if any broke
hedges, or violently pulled up pales about enclosures, without lawful
authority, it should be felony: any attempt to kill a privy counsellor
was subjected to the same penalty. The bishops had made an application,
complaining that they were deprived of all their power by the
encroachments of the civil courts, and the present suspension of the
canon law; that they could summon no offender before them, punish no
vice, or exert the discipline of the church; from which diminution of
their authority, they pretended, immorality had every where received
great encouragement and increase. The design of some was to revive the
penitentiary rules of the primitive church; but others thought, that
such an authority committed to the bishops would prove more oppressive
than confession, penance, and all the clerical inventions of the Romish
superstition. The parliament, for the present, contented themselves with
empowering the king to appoint thirty-two commissioners to compile a
body of canon laws, which were to be valid, though never ratified by
parliament. Such implicit trust did they repose in the crown, without
reflecting that all their liberties and properties might be affected by
these canons.[**] The king did not live to affix the royal sanction to
the new canons. Sir John Sharington, whose crimes and malversations had
appeared so egregious at the condemnation of Lord Seymour, obtained from
parliament a reversal of his attainder. This man sought favor with
the more zealous reformers; and Bishop Latimer affirmed that, though
formerly he had been a most notorious knave, he was now so penitent that
he had become a very honest man.
* 3 and 4 Edward VI. c. 2.
** 3 and 4 Edward VI. c. 13.
{1550.} When Warwick and the council of regency began to exercise their
power, they found themselves involved in the same difficulties that had
embarrassed the protector. The wars with France and Scotland could not
be supported by an exhausted exchequer; seemed dangerous to a divided
nation; and were now acknowledged not to have any object which even the
greatest and most uninterrupted success could attain. The project of
peace entertained by Somerset had served them as a pretence for clamor
against his administration; yet, after sending Sir Thomas Cheney to
the emperor, and making again a fruitless effort to engage him in the
protection of Boulogne, they found themselves obliged to listen to the
advances which Henry made them, by the canal of Guidotti, a Florentine
merchant. The earl of Bedford, Sir John Mason, Paget, and Petre, were
sent over to Boulogne, with full powers to negotiate. The French
king absolutely refused to pay the two millions of crowns, which his
predecessor had acknowledged to be due to the crown of England as
arrears of pensions; and said, that he never would consent to render
himself tributary to any prince: but he offered a sum for the immediate
restitution of Boulogne; and four hundred thousand crowns were at
last agreed on, one half to be paid immediately, the other in August
following. Six hostages were given for the performance of this article.
Scotland was comprehended in the treaty: the English stipulated to
restore Lauder and Dunglas, and to demolish the fortresses of Roxburgh
and Eymouth.[*] No sooner was peace concluded with France, than a
project was entertained of a close alliance with that kingdom; and Henry
willingly embraced a proposal so suitable both to his interests and his
inclinations. An agreement some time after was formed for a marriage
between Edward and Elizabeth, a daughter of France; and all the articles
were, after a little negotiation, fully settled:[**] but this project
never took effect.
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 148. Hayward, p. 310, 811, 312. Rymer,
vol. xv. p. 211.
** Hayward, p. 318. Heylin, p. 104. Rymer, tom. xv. p. 293.
The intention of marrying the king to a daughter of Henry, a violent
persecutor of the Protestants, was nowise acceptable to that party in
England: but in all other respects the council was steady in promoting
the reformation, and in enforcing the laws against the Romanists.
Several prelates were still addicted to that communion; and though they
made some compliances, in order to save their bishoprics, they retarded,
as much as they safely could, the execution of the new laws, and gave
countenance to such incumbents as were negligent or refractory. A
resolution was therefore taken to seek pretences for depriving those
prelates; and the execution of this intention was the more easy, as
they had all of them been obliged to take commissions, in which it was
declared, that they held their sees during the king’s pleasure only. It
was thought proper to begin with Gardiner, in order to strike a terror
into the rest. The method of proceeding against him was violent, and had
scarcely any color of law or justice. Injunctions had been given him to
inculcate in a sermon the duty of obedience to a king, even during his
minority; and because he had neglected this topic, he had been thrown
into prison, and had been there detained during two years, without being
accused of any crime except disobedience to this arbitrary command. The
duke of Somerset, Secretary Petre, and some others of the council, were
now sent, in order to try his temper, and endeavor to find some grounds
for depriving him: he professed to them his intention of conforming to
the government, of supporting the king’s laws, and of officiating by
the new liturgy. This was not the disposition which they expected or
desired.[*] A new deputation was therefore sent, who carried him
several articles to subscribe. He was required to acknowledge his former
misbehavior, and to confess the justice of his confinement: he was
likewise to own, that the king was supreme head of the church; that
the power of making and dispensing with holydays was part of the
prerogative; that the book of common prayer was a godly and commendable
form; that the king was a complete sovereign in his minority; that the
law of the six articles was justly repealed; and that the king had
full authority to correct and reform what was amiss in ecclesiastical
discipline, government, or doctrine. The bishop was willing to set his
hand to all the articles except the first: he maintained his conduct
to have been inoffensive; and declared, that he would not own himself
guilty of faults which he had never committed.[**]
* Heylin, p. 99.
** Collier, vol. ii. p, 305., from the council books. Heylin,
p. 99.
The council, finding that he had gone such lengths, were determined to
prevent his full compliance by multiplying the difficulties upon him,
and sending him new articles to subscribe. A list was selected of such
points as they thought would be the hardest of digestion; and, not
content with this rigor, they also insisted on his submission, and
his acknowledgment of past errors. To make this subscription more
mortifying, they demanded a promise, that he would recommend and publish
all these articles from the pulpit: but Gardiner, who saw that they
intended either to ruin or dishonor him, or perhaps both, determined not
to gratify his enemies by any further compliance: he still maintained
his innocence; desired a fair trial; and refused to subscribe more
articles till he should recover his liberty. For this pretended offence
his bishopric was put under sequestration for three months; and as he
then appeared no more compliant than before, a commission was appointed
to try, or, more properly speaking, to condemn him.
{1551.} The commissioners were, the primate, the bishops of London, Ely,
and Lincoln, Secretary Petre, Sir James Hales, and some other lawyers.
Gardiner objected to the legality of the commission, which was
not founded on any statute or precedent; and he appealed from the
commissioners to the king. His appeal was not regarded: sentence was
pronounced against him; he was deprived of his bishopric, and committed
to close custody; his books and papers were seized; he was secluded from
all company; and it was not allowed him either to send or receive any
letters or messages.[*]
Gardiner, as well as the other prelates, had agreed to hold his office
during the king’s pleasure: but the council, unwilling to make use of a
concession which had been so illegally and arbitrarily extorted, chose
rather to employ some forms of justice; a resolution which led them to
commit still greater iniquities and severities. But the violence of
the reformers did not stop here. Day, bishop of Chichester, Heathe of
Worcester, and Voisey of Exeter, were deprived of their bishoprics, on
pretence of disobedience. Even Kitchen of Landaff, Capon of Salisbury,
and Samson of Coventry, though they had complied in every thing, yet,
not being supposed cordial in their obedience, were obliged to seek
protection, by sacrificing the most considerable revenues of their see
to the rapacious courtiers.[**]
These plunderers neglected not even smaller profits. An order was
issued by council for purging the library at Westminster of all missals,
legends, and other superstitious volumes, and delivering their garniture
to Sir Anthony Aucher.[***]
* Fox, vol. ii..p. 734, et seq. Burnet. Heylin. Collier.
** Goodwin de Præsul. Angl Heylin. p. 100.
*** Collier, vol. ii. p. 307.
Many of these books were plated with gold and silver, and curiously
embossed; and this finery was probably the superstition that condemned
them. Great havoc was likewise made on the libraries at Oxford. Books
and manuscripts were destroyed without distinction: the volumes of
divinity from the council books, suffered for their rich binding: those
of literature were condemned as useless: those of geometry and astronomy
were supposed to contain nothing but necromancy.[*] The university had
not power to oppose these barbarous violences: they were in danger of
losing their own revenues; and expected every moment to be swallowed up
by the earl of Warwick and his associates.
Though every one besides yielded to the authority of the council, the
lady Mary could never be brought to compliance; and she still continued
to adhere to the mass, and to reject the new liturgy. Her behavior was,
during some time, connived at; but at last her two chaplains, Mallet and
Berkeley, were thrown into prison;[**] and remonstrances were made to
the princess herself on account of her disobedience. The council
wrote her a letter, by which they endeavored to make her change her
sentiments, and to persuade her that her religious faith was very ill
grounded. They asked her what warrant there was in Scripture for prayers
in an unknown tongue, the use of images, or offering up the sacrament
for the dead; and they desired her to peruse St. Austin, and the other
ancient doctors, who would convince her of the errors of the Romish
superstition, and prove that it was founded merely on false miracles and
lying stories.[***] The lady Mary remained obstinate against all
this advice, and declared herself willing to endure death rather than
relinquish her religion; she only feared, she said, that she was not
worthy to suffer martyrdom in so holy a cause: and as for Protestant
books, she thanked God, that as she never had, so she hoped never to
read any of them. Dreading further violence, she endeavored to make
an escape to her kinsman Charles; but her design was discovered and
prevented.[****] The emperor remonstrated in her behalf, and even
threatened hostilities if liberty of conscience were refused her: but
though the council, sensible that the kingdom was in no condition to
support with honor such a war, was desirous to comply, they found great
difficulty to overcome the scruples of the young king. He had been
educated in such a violent abhorrence of the mass and other popish
rites, which he regarded as impious and idolatrous, that he should
participate, he thought, in the sin, if he allowed its commission: and
when at last the importunity of Cranmer, Ridley, and Poinet prevailed
somewhat over his opposition, he burst into tears; lamenting his
sister’s obstinacy, and bewailing his own hard fate, that he must suffer
her to continue in such an abominable mode of worship.
* Wood, Hist. and Antiq. Oxon. lib. i. p. 271, 272.
** Strype, vol. ii. p. 249.
*** Fox, vol. ii. Collier, Burnet.
**** Hayward, p. 315.
The great object, at this time, of antipathy among the Protestant
sects was Popery, or, more properly, speaking, the Papists. These they
regarded as the common enemy, who threatened every moment to overwhelm
the evangelical faith, and destroy its partisans by fire and sword: they
had not as yet had leisure to attend to the other minute differences
among themselves, which afterwards became the object of such furious
quarrels and animosities, and threw the whole kingdom into combustion.
Several Lutheran divines, who had reputation in those days, Bucer, Peter
Martyr, and others, were induced to take shelter in England, from the
persecutions which the emperor exercised in Germany; and they received
protection and encouragement. John Alasco, a Polish nobleman, being
expelled his country by the rigors of the Catholics, settled during
some time at Embden in East Friezland, where he became preacher to a
congregation of the reformed. Foreseeing the persecutions which ensued,
he removed to England, and brought his congregation along with him. The
council, who regard them as industrious, useful people, and desired to
invite over others of the same character, not only gave them the church
of Augustine Friars for the exercise of their religion, but granted them
a charter, by which they were erected into a corporation, consisting
of a superintendent and four assisting ministers. This ecclesiastical
establishment was quite independent of the church of England, and
differed from it in some rites and ceremonies.[*]
These differences among the Protestants were matter of triumph to the
Catholics; who insisted, that the moment men departed from the authority
of the church, they lost all criterion of truth and falsehood in matters
of religion, and must be carried away by every wind of doctrine. The
continual variations of every sect of Protestants afforded them the same
topic of reasoning. The book of common prayer suffered in England a
new revisal, and some rites and ceremonies which had given offence were
omitted.[**] * Mem. Cranm. p. 234.
** Mem. Cieum. p, 289.
The speculative doctrines, or the metaphysics of religion, were also
reduced to forty-two articles. These were intended to obviate further
divisions and variations; and the compiling of them had been postponed
till the establishment of the liturgy, which was justly regarded as a
more material object to the people. The eternity of hell torments
is asserted in this confession of faith; and care is also taken to
inculcate, not only that no heathen, how virtuous soever, can escape an
endless state of the most exquisite misery, but also that every one who
presumes to maintain that any pagan can possibly be saved, is himself
exposed to the penalty of eternal perdition.[*]
* Article xviii.
The theological zeal of the council, though seemingly fervent, went not
so far as to make them neglect their own temporal concerns, which seem
to have ever been uppermost in their thoughts: they even found leisure
to attend to the public interest; nay, to the commerce of the nation,
which was at that time very little the object of general study or
attention. The trade of England had anciently been carried on
altogether by foreigners, chiefly the inhabitants of the Hanse Towns,
or Easterlings, as they were called; and in order to encourage these
merchants to settle in England, they had been erected into a corporation
by Henry III., had obtained a patent, were endowed with privileges,
and were exempted from several heavy duties paid by other aliens.
So ignorant were the English of commerce, that this company, usually
denominated the merchants of the “stil-yard,” engrossed, even down to
the reign of Edward, almost the whole foreign trade of the kingdom;
and as they naturally employed the shipping of their own country, the
navigation of England was also in a very languishing condition. It was
therefore thought proper by the council to seek pretences for annulling
the privileges of this corporation, privileges which put them nearly on
an equal footing with Englishmen in the duties which they paid; and as
such patents were, during that age, granted by the absolute power of
the king, men were the less surprised to find them revoked by the same
authority. Several remonstrances were made against this innovation by
Lubec, Hamburgh, and other Hanse Towns; but the council persevered in
their resolution, and the good effects of it soon became visible to the
nation. The English merchants, by their very situation as natives, had
advantages above foreigners in the purchase of cloth, wool, and other
commodities; though these advantages had not hitherto been sufficient
to rouse then industry, or engage them to become rivals to this opulent
company: but when aliens’ duty was also imposed upon all foreigners
indiscriminately, the English were tempted to enter into commerce; and a
spirit of industry began to appear in the kingdom.[*]
About the same time a treaty was made with Gustavus Ericson, king
of Sweden, by which it was stipulated, that if he sent bullion into
England, he might export English commodities without paying custom;
that he should carry bullion to no other prince; that if he sent ozimus,
steel, copper, etc., he should pay custom for English commodities as an
Englishman; and that if he sent other merchandise, he should have free
intercourse, paying custom as a stranger.[**] The bullion sent over by
Sweden, though it could not be in great quantity, set the mint to work:
good specie was coined, and much of the base metal formerly issued was
recalled: a circumstance which tended extremely to the encouragement of
commerce.
* Hayward, p. 323 Heylin, p. 108. Strype’s Mem. vol. ii. p
295.
** Heylin p 109.
But all these schemes for promoting industry were likely to prove
abortive by the fear of domestic convulsions, arising from the ambition
of Warwick. That nobleman, not contented with the station which he had
attained, carried further his pretensions, and had gained partisans
who were disposed to second him in every enterprise. The last earl
of Northumberland died without issue; and as Sir Thomas Piercy, his
brother, had been attainted on account of the share which he had in the
Yorkshire insurrection during the late reign, the title was at present
extinct, and the estate was vested in the crown. Warwick now procured
to himself a grant of those ample possessions, which lay chiefly in the
north, the most warlike part of the kingdom; and was dignified with the
title of duke of Northumberland. His friend Paulet, Lord St. John,
the treasurer, was created, first, earl of Wiltshire, then marquis of
Winchester: Sir William Herbert obtained the title of earl of Pembroke.
But the ambition of Northumberland made him regard all increase of
possessions and titles, either to himself or his artisans, as steps only
to further acquisitions. Finding that Somerset, though degraded from
his dignity, and even lessened in the public opinion by his spiritless
conduct, still enjoyed a considerable share of popularity, he determined
to ruin the man whom he regarded as the chief obstacle to the attainment
of his hopes. The alliance which had been contracted between the
families had produced no cordial union, and only enabled Northumberland
to compass with more certainty the destruction of his rival. He secretly
gained many of the friends and servants of that unhappy nobleman: he
sometimes terrified him by the appearance of danger; sometimes provoked
him by ill usage. The unguarded Somerset often broke out into menacing
expressions against Northumberland: at other times he formed rash
projects, which he immediately abandoned his treacherous confidants
carried to his enemy every passionate word which dropped from him: they
revealed the schemes which they themselves had first suggested: and
Northumberland, thinking that the proper season was now come, began to
act in an open manner against him.
In one night, the duke of Somerset, Lord Grey, David and John Seymour,
Hammond, and Neudigate, two of the duke’s servants, Sir Ralph Vane, and
Sir Thomas Palmer, were arrested and committed to custody. Next day, the
duchess of Somerset, with her favorites Crane and his wife, Sir Miles
Partridge, Sir Michael Stanhope, Bannister, and others, was thrown
into prison. Sir Thomas Palmer, who had all along acted as a spy upon
Somerset, accused him of having formed a design to raise an insurrection
in the north, to attack the gens d’armes on a muster day, to secure
the Tower, and to raise a rebellion in London: but, what was the only
probable accusation, he asserted, that Somerset had once laid a project
for murdering Northumberland, Northampton, and Pembroke at a banquet
which was to be given them by Lord Paget Crane and his wife confirmed
Palmer’s testimony with regard to this last design; and it appears that
some rash scheme of that nature had really been mentioned, though no
regular conspiracy had been formed, or means prepared for its execution
Hammond confessed that the duke had armed men to guard him one night in
his house at Greenwich.
Somerset was brought to his trial before the marquis of Winchester,
created high steward. Twenty-seven peers composed the jury, among whom
were Northumberland, Pembroke, and Northampton, whom decency should have
hindered from acting as judges in the trial of a man that appeared to be
their capital enemy. Somerset was accused of high treason, on account of
the projected insurrections, and of felony in laying a design to murder
privy counsellors.
We have a very imperfect account of all state trials during that ago,
which is a sensible defect in our history; but it appears that some more
regularity was observed in the management of this prosecution than
had usually been employed in like cases. The witnesses were at least
examined by the privy council; and though they were neither produced in
court, nor confronted with the prisoner, (circumstances required by
the strict principles of equity,) their depositions were given in to the
jury. The proof seems to have been lame with regard to the treasonable
part of the charge; and Somerset’s defence was so satisfactory, that the
peers gave verdict in his favor: the intention alone of assaulting the
privy counsellors was supported by tolerable evidence; and the jury
brought him in guilty of felony. The prisoner himself confessed that he
had expressed his intention of murdering Northumberland and the other
lords; but had not formed any resolution on that head: and when he
received sentence, he asked pardon of those peers for the designs which
he had hearkened to against them. The people, by whom Somerset was
beloved, hearing the first part of his sentence, by which he was
acquitted from treason, expressed their joy by loud acclamations: but
their satisfaction was suddenly damped on finding that he was condemned
to death for felony.[*]
{1552.} Care had been taken by Northumberland’s emissaries to prepossess
the young king against his uncle; and lest he should relent, no access
was given to any of Somerset’s friends, and the prince was kept from
reflection by a continued series of occupations and amusements. At last
the prisoner was brought to the scaffold on Tower Hill, amidst great
crowds of spectators, who bore him such sincere kindness, that they
entertained to the last moment the fond hopes of his pardon.[**] Many of
them rushed in to dip their hand-kerchiefs in his blood, which they
long preserved as a precious relic; and some of them soon after, when
Northumberland met with a like doom, upbraided him with this cruelty,
and displayed to him these symbols of his crime. Somerset indeed, though
many actions of his life were exceptionable, seems in general to have
merited a better fate; and the faults which he committed were owing to
weakness, not to any bad intention. His virtues were better calculated
for private than for public life; and by his want of penetration and
firmness, he was ill fitted to extricate himself from those cabals and
violences to which that age was so much addicted. Sir Thomas Arundel,
Sir Michael Stanhope, Sir Miles Partridge, and Sir Ralph Vane, all of
them Somerset’s friends, were brought to their trial, condemned, and
executed: great injustice seems to have been used in their prosecution.
* Hayward, p. 320, 321, 322. Stowe, p. 606. Holingshed, p.
1067.
** Hayward p. 324, 325.
Lord Paget, chancellor of the duchy, was on some pretence tried in the
star chamber, and condemned in a fine of six thousand pounds, with the
loss of his office. To mortify him the more, he was degraded from the
order of the garter; as unworthy, on account of his mean birth, to share
that honor.[*] Lord Rich, chancellor, was also compelled to resign his
office, on the discovery of some marks of friendship which he had shown
to Somerset.
The day after the execution of Somerset, a session of parliament was
held, in which further advances were made towards the establishment
of the reformation. The new liturgy was authorized; and penalties
were enacted against all those who absented themselves from public
worship.[**] To use the mass had already been prohibited under severe
penalties; so that the reformers, it appears, whatever scope they had
given to their own private judgment, in disputing the tenets of the
ancient religion, were resolved not to allow the same privilege to
others, and the practice, nay the very doctrine of toleration, was at
that time equally unknown to all sects and parties. To dissent from the
religion of the magistrate, was universally conceived to be as criminal
as to question his title, or rebel against his authority.
A law was enacted against usury; that is, against taking any interest
for money.[***] This act was the remains of ancient superstition; but
being found extremely iniquitous in itself, as well as prejudicial to
commerce, it was afterwards repealed in the twelfth of Elizabeth. The
common rate of interest, notwithstanding the law, was at this time
fourteen per cent.[****]
* Stowe, p. 608.
** 5 and 6 Edward VI. cap. 1
*** 5 and 6 Edward VI. cap. 20.
**** Hayward, p. 318.
A bill was introduced by the ministry into the house of lords, renewing
those rigorous statutes of treason which had been abrogated in the
beginning of this reign; and though the peers, by their high station,
stood most exposed to these tempests of state, yet had they so little
regard to public security, or even to their own true interest, that
they passed the bill with only one dissenting voice.[*] But the commons
rejected it, and prepared a new bill, that passed into a law, by which
it was enacted, that whoever should call the king, or any of his heirs
named in the statute of the thirty-fifth of the last reign, heretic,
schismatic, tyrant, infidel, or usurper of the crown, should forfeit,
for the first offence, their goods and chattels, and be imprisoned
during pleasure; for the second, should incur a “præmunire;” for the
third, should be attainted for treason. But if any should unadvisedly
utter such a slander in writing, printing, painting, carving, or
graving, he was, for the first offence, to be held a traitor.[**] It
may be worthy of notice, that the king and his next heir, the lady Mary,
were professedly of different religions; and religions which threw on
each other the imputation of heresy, schism, idolatry, profaneness,
blasphemy, wickedness, and all the opprobrious epithets that religious
zeal has invented. It was almost impossible, therefore, for the people,
if they spoke at all on these subjects, not to fall into the crime so
severely punished by the statute; and the jealousy of the commons for
liberty, though it led them to reject the bill of treasons sent to
them by the lords, appears not to have been very active, vigilant, or
clearsighted.
* Parl. Hist. vol. iii. p. 258. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 190.
** 5 and 6 Edward VI. cap. 2.
The commons annexed to this bill a clause, which was of more importance
than the bill itself, that no one should be convicted of any kind of
treason, unless the crime were proved by the oaths of two witnesses,
confronted with the prisoner. The lords for some time scrupled to
pass this clause, though conformable to the most obvious principles of
equity. But the members of that house trusted for protection to their
present personal interest and power, and neglected the noblest and most
permanent security, that of laws.
The house of peers passed a bill, whose object was, making a provision
for the poor; but the commons, not choosing that a money bill should
begin in the upper house, framed a new act to the same purpose. By
this act the churchwardens were empowered to collect charitable
contributions; and if any refused to give, or dissuaded others from that
charity the bishop of the diocese was empowered to proceed against them.
Such large discretionary powers intrusted to the prelates seem as proper
an object of jealousy as the authority assumed by the peers.[*]
There was another occasion in which the parliament reposed an unusual
confidence in the bishops. They empowered them to proceed against such
as neglected the Sundays and holy-day.[**] But these were unguarded
concessions granted to the church: the general humor of the age rather
led men to bereave the ecclesiastics of all power, and even to pillage
them of their property: many clergymen, about this time, were obliged
for a subsistence to turn carpenters or tailors, and some kept
alehouses.[***] The bishops themselves were generally reduced to
poverty, and held both their revenues and spiritual office by a very
precarious and uncertain tenure.
* 5 and 6 Edward VI. cap. 2.
** 5 and 6 Edward VI. cap, 3.
*** Burnet, vol ii. p. 202.
Tonstal, bishop of Durham, was one of the most eminent prelates of that
age, still less for the dignity of his see, than for his own personal
merit, his learning, moderation, humanity, and beneficence. He had
opposed, by his vote and authority, all innovations in religion; but as
soon as they were enacted, he had always submitted, and had conformed to
every theological system which had been established. His known
probity had made this compliance be ascribed, not to an interested or
time-serving spirit, but to a sense of duty, which led him to think
that all private opinion ought to be sacrificed to the great concern of
public peace and tranquillity. The general regard paid to his character
had protected him from any severe treatment during the administration
of Somerset; but when Northumberland gained the ascendant, he was thrown
into prison; and as that rapacious nobleman had formed a design of
seizing the revenues of the see of Durham, and of acquiring to himself
a principality in the northern counties, he was resolved, in order
to effect his purpose, to deprive Tonstal of his bishopric. A bill
of attainder, therefore, on pretence of misprision of treason, was
introduced into the house of peers against the prelate; and it passed
with the opposition only of Lord Stourton, a zealous Catholic, and of
Cranmer, who always bore a cordial and sincere friendship to the bishop
of Durham. But when the bill was sent down to the commons, they required
that witnesses should be examined, that Tonstal should be allowed to
defend himself, and that he should be confronted with his accusers; and
when these demands were refused, they rejected the bill.
This equity, so unusual in the parliament during that age, was ascribed,
by Northumberland and his partisans, not to any regard for liberty
and justice, but to the prevalence of Somerset’s faction in a house of
commons which, being chosen during the administration of that nobleman,
had been almost entirely filled with his creatures. They were confirmed
in this opinion, when they found that a bill, ratifying the attainder of
Somerset and his accomplices, was also rejected by the commons, though
it had passed the upper house. A resolution was therefore taken to
dissolve the parliament, which had sitten during this whole reign; and
soon after to summon a new one.
Northumberland, in order to insure to himself a house of commons
entirely obsequious to his will, ventured on an expedient which could
not have been practised, or even imagined, in an age when there was any
idea or comprehension of liberty. He engaged the king to write circular
letters to all the sheriffs, in which he enjoined them to inform the
freeholders, that they were required to choose men of knowledge and
experience for their representatives. After this general exhortation,
the king continued in these words: “And yet, nevertheless, our pleasure
is, that where our privy council, or any of them, shall, in our behalf,
recommend within their jurisdiction men of learning and wisdom; in such
cases their directions shall be regarded and followed, as tending to the
same end which we desire; that is, to have this assembly composed of
the persons in our realm the best fitted to give advice and good
counsel.”[*] Several letters were sent from the king, recommending
members to particular counties; Sir Richard Cotton to Hampshire; Sir
William Fitzwilliams and Sir Henry Nevil to Berkshire; Sir William Drury
and Sir Henry Benningfield to Suffolk, etc. But though some counties
only received this species of congé d’élire from the king; the
recommendations from the privy council and the counsellors, we may
fairly presume, would extend to the greater part, if not the whole, of
the kingdom.
* Strype’s Ecclesiastical Memorials, vol. ii. p. 394.
It is remarkable, that this attempt was made during the reign of a minor
king, when the royal authority is usually weakest that it was patiently
submitted to; and that it gave so little umbrage as scarcely to be taken
notice of by any historian. The painful and laborious collector above
cited, who never omits the most trivial matter, is the only person
that has thought this memorable letter worthy of being transmitted to
posterity.
{1553.} The parliament answered Northumberland’s expectations. As
Tonstal had been in the interval deprived of his bishopric in an
arbitrary manner, by the sentence of lay commissioners appointed to
try him, the see of Durham was, by act of parliament, divided into two
bishoprics, which had certain portions of the revenue assigned them.
The regalities of the see, which included the jurisdiction of a count
palatine, were given by the king to Northumberland; nor is it to be
doubted but that noblemen had also purposed to make rich plunder of
the revenue, as was then usual with the courtiers whenever a bishopric
became vacant.
The commons gave the ministry another mark of attachment, which was
at that time the most sincere of any, the most cordial, and the most
difficult to be obtained: they granted a supply of two subsidies and
two fifteenths. To render this present the more acceptable, they voted
a preamble, containing a long accusation of Somerset, “for involving the
king in wars, wasting his treasure, engaging him in much debt, embasing
the coin, and giving occasion for a most terrible rebellion.”[*]
The debts of the crown were at this time considerable. The king
had received from France four hundred thousand crowns on delivering
Boulogne; he had reaped profit from the sale of some chantry lands; the
churches had been spoiled of all their plate and rich ornaments, which,
by a decree of council, without any pretence of law or equity, had been
converted to the king’s use: [**] yet such had been the rapacity of the
courtiers, that the crown owed about three hundred thousand pounds: and
great dilapidations were at the same time made of the royal demesnes.
The young prince showed, among other virtues, a disposition to
frugality, which, had he lived, would soon have retrieved these losses;
but as his health was declining very fast, the present emptiness of the
exchequer was a sensible obstacle to the execution of those projects
which the ambition of Northumberland had founded on the prospect of
Edward’s approaching end.
* 7 Edward VI. cap. 12., Heylin, p. 95, 132.
** Strype’s Ecclesiastical Memorials, vol. ii. p. 344.
That nobleman represented to the prince, whom youth and an infirm state
of health made susceptible of any impression, that his two sisters, Mary
and Elizabeth, had both of them been declared illegitimate by act of
parliament; and though Henry by his will had restored them to a place
in the succession, the nation would never submit to see the throne of
England filled by a bastard: that they were the king’s sisters by the
half blood only; and even if they were legitimate, could not enjoy
the crown as his heirs and successors: that the queen of Scots stood
excluded by the late king’s will; and being an alien, had lost by law
all right of inheriting; not to mention that, as she was betrothed to
the dauphin, she would, by her succession, render England, as she
had already done Scotland, a province to France: that the certain
consequence of his sister Mary’s succession, or that of the queen of
Scots was the abolition of the Protestant religion, and the repeal of
the laws enacted in favor of the reformation, and the reëstabishment of
the usurpation and idolatry of the church of Rome, that, fortunately for
England, the same order of succession which justice required, was also
the most conformable to public interest; and there was not on any
side any just ground for doubt or deliberation: that when these three
princesses were excluded by such solid reasons, the succession devolved
on the marchioness of Dorset, elder daughter of the French queen and the
duke of Suffolk: that the next heir of the marchioness was the lady Jane
Gray, a lady of the most amiable character, accomplished by the best
education, both in literature and religion, and every way worthy of a
crown; and that even if her title by blood were doubtful, which there
was no just reason to pretend, the king was possessed of the same
power that his father enjoyed, and might leave her the crown by letters
patent. These reasonings made impression on the young prince; and
above all, his zealous attachment to the Protestant religion made him
apprehend the consequences if so bigoted a Catholic as his sister Mary
should succeed to the throne. And though he bore a tender affection to
the lady Elizabeth, who was liable to no such objection means were found
to persuade him that he could not exclude the one sister, on account of
illegitimacy, without giving also an exclusion to the other.
[Illustration: 1-424-jane_grey.jpg LADY JANE GREY]
Northumberland, finding that his arguments were likely to operate on the
king, began to prepare the other parts of his scheme. Two sons of
the duke of Suffolk by a second venter having died this season of the
sweating sickness, that title was extinct; and Northumberland engaged
the king to bestow it on the marquis of Dorset. By means of this favor,
and of others which he conferred upon him, he persuaded the new duke
of Suffolk and the duchess, to give their daughter, the lady Jane,
in marriage to his fourth son, the Lord Guildford Dudley. In order to
fortify himself by further alliances, he negotiated a marriage between
the lady Catharine Gray, second daughter of Suffolk, and Lord Herbert,
eldest son of the earl of Pembroke. He also married his own daughter to
Lord Hastings, eldest son of the earl of Huntingdon.[*] These marriages
were solemnized with great pomp and festivity; and the people, who hated
Northumberland, could not forbear expressing their indignation at seeing
such public demonstrations of joy during the languishing state of the
young prince’s health.
* Heylin, p. 199. Stowe, p. 609.
Edward had been seized in the foregoing year, first with the measles,
then with the small-pox; but having perfectly recovered from both these
distempers, the nation entertained hopes that they would only serve to
confirm his health; and he had afterwards made a progress through some
parts of the kingdom. It was suspected that he had there overheated
himself in exercise; he was seized with a cough, which proved obstinate,
and gave way neither to regimen nor medicines: several fatal symptoms
of consumption appeared; and though it was hoped that, as the season
advanced, his youth and temperance might get the better of the malady,
men saw with great concern his bloom and vigor insensibly decay. The
general attachment to the young prince, joined to the hatred borne the
Dudleys, made it be remarked, that Edward had every moment declined in
health, from the time that Lord Robert Dudley had been put about him in
quality of gentleman of the bedchamber.
The languishing state of Edward’s health made Northumberland the more
intent on the execution of his project. He removed all, except his
own emissaries, from about the king; he himself attended him with the
greatest assiduity: he pretended the most anxious concern for his health
and welfare; and by all these artifices he prevailed on the young
prince to give his final consent to the settlement projected. Sir Edward
Montague, chief justice of the common pleas, Sir John Baker and Sir
Thomas Bromley, two judges, with the attorney and solicitor-general,
were summoned to the council, where, after the minutes of the intended
deed were read to them, the king required them to draw them up in the
form of letters patent. They hesitated to obey, and desired time to
consider of it. The more they reflected the greater danger they found in
compliance. The settlement of the crown by Henry VIII. had been made in
consequence of an act of parliament; and by another act, passed in the
beginning of this reign, it was declared treason in any of the heirs,
their aiders or abettors, to attempt on the right of another, or change
the order of succession. The judges pleaded these reasons before
the council. They urged, that such a patent as was intended would be
entirely invalid; that it would subject, not only the judges who drew
it, but every counsellor who signed it, to the pains of treason; and
that the only proper expedient, both for giving sanction to the new
settlement, and freeing its partisans from danger, was to summon a
parliament, and to obtain the consent of that assembly. The king said,
that he intended afterwards to follow that method, and would call a
parliament in which he purposed to have his settlement ratified; but in
the mean time he required the judges, on their allegiance, to draw the
patent in the form required. The council told the judges, that
their refusal would subject all of them to the pains of treason.
Northumberland gave to Montague the appellation of traitor; and said
that he would in his shirt fight any man in so just a cause as that of
Lady Jane’s succession. The judges were reduced to great difficulties
between the dangers from the law, and those which arose from the
violence of present power and authority.[*]
* Fuller, book viii. p. 2.
The arguments were canvassed in several different meetings between
the council and the judges, and no solution could be found of the
difficulties. At last, Montague proposed an expedient, which satisfied
both his brethren and the counsellors. He desired that a special
commission should be passed by the king and council, requiring the
judges to draw a patent for the new settlement of the crown; and that
a pardon should immediately after be granted them for any offence which
they might have incurred by their compliance. When the patent was drawn,
and brought to the bishop of Ely, Chancellor, in order to have the great
seal affixed to it, this prelate required that all the judges should
previously sign it. Gosnald at first refused; and it was with much
difficulty that he was prevailed on, by the violent menaces of
Northumberland to comply; but the constancy of Sir James Hales, who,
though a zealous Protestant, preferred justice on this occasion to
the prejudices of his party, could not be shaken by any expedient. The
chancellor next required, for his greater security, that all the privy
counsellors should set their hands to the patent: the intrigues of
Northumberland, or the fears of his violence, were so prevalent that the
counsellors complied with this demand. Cranmer alone hesitated during
some time, but at last yielded to the earnest and pathetic entreaties
of the king.[*] Cecil, at that time secretary of state, pretended
afterwards that he only signed as witness to the king’s subscription.
And thus, by the king’s letters patent, the two princesses, Mary and
Elizabeth, were set aside; and the crown was settled on the heirs of the
duchess of Suffolk; for the duchess herself was content to give place to
her daughters.
* Cranm. Mem. p. 295
After this settlement was made, with so many inauspicious circumstances,
Edward visibly declined every day, and small hopes were entertained of
his recovery. To make matters worse, his physicians were dismissed by
Northumberland’s advice, and by an order of council; and he was put
into the hands of an ignorant woman, who undertook in a little time
to restore him to his former state of health. After the use of her
medicines, all the bad symptoms increased to the most violent degree:
he felt a difficulty of speech and breathing; his pulse failed, his legs
swelled, his color became livid, and many other symptoms appeared of his
approaching end. He expired at Greenwich, in the sixteenth year of his
age, and the seventh of his reign.
All the English historians dwell with pleasure on the excellent
qualities of this young prince; whom the flattering promises of hope,
joined to many real virtues, had made an object of tender affection to
the public. He possessed mildness of disposition, application to study
and business, a capacity to learn and judge, and an attachment to equity
and justice. He seems only to have contracted, from his education,
and from the genius of the age in which he lived, too much of a narrow
prepossession in matters of religion, which made him incline somewhat
to bigotry and persecution: but as the bigotry of Protestants, less
governed by priests, lies under more restraints than that of Catholics,
the effects of this malignant quality were the less to be apprehended if
a longer life had been granted to young Edward.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
[Illustration: 1-432-mary.jpg MARY]
MARY.
{1553.} The title of the princess Mary, after the demise of her brother,
was not exposed to any considerable difficulty; and the objections
started by the lady Jane’s partisans were new and unheard of by the
nation. Though all the Protestants, and even many of the Catholics,
believed the marriage of Henry VIII. with Catharine of Arragon to be
unlawful and invalid; yet, as it had been contracted by the parties
without any criminal intention, had been avowed by their parents,
recognized by the nation, and seemingly founded on those principles of
law and religion which then prevailed, few imagined that their issue
ought on that account to be regarded as illegitimate. A declaration
to that purpose had indeed been extorted from parliament by the usual
violence and caprice of Henry; but as that monarch had afterwards been
induced to restore his daughter to the right of succession, her title
was now become as legal and parliamentary as it was ever esteemed just
and natural. The public had long been familiarized to these sentiments:
during all the reign of Edward, the princess was regarded as his
lawful successor; and though the Protestants dreaded the effects of
her prejudices, the extreme hatred universally entertained against the
Dudleys,[*] who, men foresaw, would, under the name of Jane, be the real
sovereigns, was more than sufficient to counterbalance, even with that
party, the attachment to religion.
* Sleidan, lib. xxv.
This last attempt to violate the order of succession had displayed
Northumberland’s ambition and injustice in a full light; and when the
people reflected on the long train of fraud, iniquity, and cruelty,
by which that project had been conducted; that the lives of the two
Seymours, as well as the title of the princesses, had been sacrificed to
it; they were moved by indignation to exert themselves in opposition
to such criminal enterprises. The general veneration also paid to the
memory of Henry VIII. prompted the nation to defend the rights of
his posterity; and the miseries of the ancient civil wars were not
so entirely forgotten, that men were willing, by a departure from the
lawful heir, to incur the danger of like bloodshed and confusion.
Northumberland, sensible of the opposition which he must expect, had
carefully concealed the destination made by the king; and in order to
bring the two princesses into his power, he had had the precaution to
engage the council, before Edward’s death, to write to them in that
prince’s name, desiring their attendance, on pretence that his infirm
state of health required the assistance of their counsel and the
consolation of their company.[*] Edward expired before their arrival;
but Northumberland, in order to make the princesses fall into the
snare, kept the king’s death still secret; and the lady Mary had already
reached Hoddesden, within half a day’s journey of the court. Happily,
the earl of Arundel sent her private intelligence, both of her brother’s
death, and of the conspiracy formed against her;[**] she immediately
made haste to retire; and she arrived, by quick journeys, first at
Kenning Hall in Norfolk, then at Framlingham in Suffolk; where she
purposed to embark and escape to Flanders, in case she should find it
impossible to defend her right of succession. She wrote letters to
the nobility and most considerable gentry in every county in England;
commanding them to assist her in the defence of her crown and person.
And she despatched a message to the council; by which she notified to
them, that her brother’s death was no longer a secret to her, promised
them pardon for past offences, and required them immediately to give
orders for proclaiming her in London.[***]
* Heylin, p. 154.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 233.
*** Fox, vol. iii, p. 14.
Northumberland found that further dissimulation was fruitless: he
went to Sion House,[*] accompanied by the duke of Suffolk, the earl of
Pembroke, and others of the nobility; and he approached the lady Jane,
who resided there, with all the respect usually paid to the sovereign.
Jane was in a great measure ignorant of these transactions; and it
was with equal grief and surprise that she received intelligence of
them.[**] She was a lady of an amiable person, an engaging disposition,
accomplished parts; and being of an equal age with the late king, she
had received all her education with him, and seemed even to possess
greater facility in acquiring every part of manly and polite literature.
She had attained a familiar knowledge of the Roman and Greek languages,
besides modern tongues; had passed most of her time in an application to
learning; and expressed a great indifference for other occupations and
amusements usual with her sex and station. Roger Ascham, tutor to the
lady Elizabeth, having one day paid her a visit, found her employed in
reading Plato, while the rest of the family were engaged in a party of
hunting in the park; and on his admiring the singularity of her choice,
she told him, that she received more pleasure from that author than the
others could reap from all their sport and gayety.[***] Her heart, full
of this passion for literature and the elegant arts, and of tenderness
towards her husband, who was deserving of her affections, had never
opened itself to the flattering allurements of ambition; and the
intelligence of her elevation to the throne was nowise agreeable to her.
She even refused to accept of the present; pleaded the preferable title
of the two princesses; expressed her dread of the consequences attending
an enterprise so dangerous, not to say so criminal; and desired to
remain in the private station in which she was born.
* Thuanus, lib. xiii. c. 10.
** Godwin in Kennet, p. 329. Heylin, p. 149. Burnet, vol.
ii. p. 234.
*** Ascham’s Works, p. 222, 223.
Overcome at last by the entreaties, rather than the reasons, of her
father and father-in-law, and above all of her husband, she submitted to
their will, and was prevailed on to relinquish her own judgment. It was
then usual for the kings of England, after their accession, to pass the
first days in the Tower; and Northumberland immediately conveyed thither
the new sovereign. All the counsellors were obliged to attend her to
that fortress; and by this means became, in reality, prisoners in the
hands of Northumberland, whose will they were necessitated to obey.
Orders were given by the council to proclaim Jane throughout the
kingdom; but these orders were executed only in London and the
neighborhood. No applause ensued: the people heard the proclamation with
silence and concern: some even expressed their scorn and contempt; and
one Pot, a vintner’s apprentice, was severely punished for this offence.
The Protestant teachers themselves, who were employed to convince the
people of Jane’s title, found their eloquence fruitless; and Ridley,
bishop of London, who preached a sermon to that purpose, wrought no
effect upon his audience.
The people of Suffolk, meanwhile, paid their attendance on Mary. As they
were much attached to the reformed communion, they could not forbear,
amidst their tenders of duty, expressing apprehensions for their
religion; but when she assured them that she never meant to change the
laws of Edward, they enlisted themselves in her cause with zeal and
affection. The nobility and gentry daily flocked to her, and brought
her reënforcement. The earls of Bath and Sussex, the eldest sons of Lord
Wharton and Lord Mordaunt, Sir William Drury, Sir Henry Benningfield,
Sir Henry Jernegan, persons whose interest lay in the neighborhood,
appeared at the head of their tenants and retainers.[*] Sir Edward
Hastings, brother to the earl of Huntingdon, having received a
commission from the council to make levies for the lady Jane in
Buckinghamshire, carried over his troops, which amounted to four
thousand men, and joined Mary. Even a fleet which had been sent by
Northumberland to lie off the coast of Suffolk, being forced into
Yarmouth by a storm, was engaged to declare for that princess.
Northumberland, hitherto blinded by ambition, saw at last the danger
gather round him, and knew not to what hand to turn himself. He had
levied forces, which were assembled at London; but dreading the cabals
of the courtiers and counsellors, whose compliance, he knew, had been
entirely the result of fear or artifice, he was resolved to keep near
the person of the lady Jane, and send Suffolk to command the army. But
the counsellors, who wished to remove him,[**] working on the filial
tenderness of Jane, magnified to her the danger to which her father
would be exposed; and represented that Northumberland, who had gained
reputation by formerly suppressing a rebellion in those parts, was more
proper to command in that enterprise.
* Heylin, p. 160. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 237.
** Godwin, p. 330. Heylin, p. 159. Burnet vol. ii. p. 239.
Fox, vol. iii. p 15.
The duke himself, who knew the slender capacity of Suffolk, began to
think that none but himself was able to encounter the present danger;
and he agreed to take on him the command of the troops. The counsellors
attended on him at his departure with the highest protestations of
attachment, and none more than Arundel, his mortal enemy.[*] As he went
along, he remarked the disaffection of the people, which foreboded a
fatal issue to his ambitious hopes. “Many,” said he to Lord Gray, “come
out to look at us, but I find not one who cries, God speed you!”[**]
The duke had no sooner reached St. Edmondsbury, than he found his
army, which did not exceed six thousand men, too weak to encounter
the queen’s,[***] which amounted to double the number. He wrote to the
council, desiring them to send him a reënforcement; and the counsellors
immediately laid hold of the opportunity to free themselves from
confinement. They left the Tower, as if they meant to execute
Northumberland’s commands; but being assembled in Baynard’s castle, a
house belonging to Pembroke, they deliberated concerning the method
of shaking off his usurped tyranny. Arundel began the conference,
by representing the injustice and cruelty of Northumberland, the
exorbitancy of his ambition, the criminal enterprise which he had
projected, and the guilt in which he had involved the whole council;
and he affirmed, that the only method of making atonement for their past
offences, was by a speedy return to the duty which they owed to their
lawful sovereign.[****] This motion was seconded by Pembroke, who,
clapping his hand to his sword, swore he was ready to fight any man that
expressed himself of a contrary sentiment. The mayor and aldermen of
London were immediately sent for, who discovered great alacrity in
obeying the orders they received to proclaim Mary. The people expressed
their approbation by shouts of applause. Even Suffolk, who commanded in
the Tower, finding resistance fruitless, opened the gates, and declared
for the queen. The lady Jane, after the vain pageantry of wearing a
crown during ten days, returned to a private life with more satisfaction
than she felt when the royalty was tendered to her:[v] and the
messengers who were sent to Northumberland with orders to lay down his
arms, found that he had despaired of success, was deserted by all his
followers, and had already proclaimed the queen, with exterior marks
of joy and satisfaction.[v*] The people every where, on the queen’s
approach to London, gave sensible expressions of their loyalty and
attachment; and the lady Elizabeth met her at the head of a thousand
horse, which that princess had levied in order to support their joint
title against the usurper.[v**]
* Heylin, p. 161. Baker, p. 315. Holingshed, p. 1086.
** Speed, p. 816.
*** Godwin, p. 331.
**** Godwin, p. 331, 332. Thuanus, lib. xiii.
v Godwin, p. 332. Thuanus, lib. xiii. c. 2
v* Stowe, p. 612.
v** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 240. Heylin, p. 19. Stowe, p. 613.
The queen gave orders for taking into custody the duke of
Northumberland, who fell on his knees to the earl of Arundel, that
arrested him, and abjectly begged his life.[*] At the same time were
committed the earl of Warwick, his eldest son, Lord Ambrose and Lord
Henry Dudley, two of his younger sons, Sir Andrew Dudley, his brother,
the marquis of Northampton, the earl of Huntingdon, Sir Thomas Palmer,
and Sir John Gates. The queen afterwards confined the duke of Suffolk,
Lady Jane Gray, and Lord Guildford Dudley. But Mary was desirous, in
the beginning of her reign, to acquire popularity by the appearance of
clemency; and because the counsellors pleaded constraint as an excuse
for their treason, she extended her pardon to most of them. Suffolk
himself recovered his liberty; and he owed this indulgence, in a great
measure, to the contempt entertained of his capacity. But the guilt of
Northumberland was too great, as well as his ambition and courage too
dangerous, to permit him to entertain any reasonable hopes of life. When
brought to his trial, he only desired permission to ask two questions of
the peers appointed to sit on his jury; whether a man could be guilty
of treason that obeyed orders given him by the council under the great
seal; and whether those who were involved in the same guilt with himself
could sit as his judges. Being told that the great seal of a usurper was
no authority, and that persons not lying under any sentence of attainder
were still innocent in the eye of the law, and might be admitted on any
jury,[**] he acquiesced, and pleaded guilty. At his execution, he made
profession of the Catholic religion, and told the people that they
never would enjoy tranquillity till they returned to the faith of their
ancestors: whether that such were his real sentiments, which he had
formerly disguised from interest and ambition, or that he hoped by this
declaration to render the queen more favorable to his family.[***] Sir
Thomas Palmer and Sir John Gates suffered with him; and this was all
the blood spilled on account of so dangerous and criminal an enterprise
against the rights of the sovereign. Sentence was pronounced against
the lady Jane and Lord Guildford, but without any present intention of
putting it in execution. The youth and innocence of the persons, neither
of whom had reached their seventeenth year, pleaded sufficiently in
their favor.
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 239. Stowe, p. 612. Baker, p. 315.
Holingshed, p. 1088.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 243. Heylin, p. 18. Baker, p. 316.
Holingshed, p. 1089.
*** Heylin, p. 19. Burnet. vol. iii. p. 243. Stowe, p. 614.
When Mary first arrived in the Tower, the duke of Norfolk, who had
been detained prisoner during all the last reign, Courtney, son of the
marquis of Exeter, who, without being charged with any crime, had been
subjected to the same punishment ever since his father’s attainder;
Gardiner, Tonstal, and Bonner, who had been confined for their adhering
to the Catholic cause, appeared before her, and implored her clemency
and protection.[*] They were all of them restored to their liberty, and
immediately admitted to her confidence and favor. Norfolk’s attainder,
notwithstanding that it had passed in parliament, was represented as
null and invalid; because, among other informalities, no special matter
had been alleged against him, except wearing a coat of arms which he and
his ancestors, without giving any offence, had always made use of,
in the face of the court and of the whole nation. Courtney soon after
received the title of earl of Devonshire; and though educated in such
close confinement that he was altogether unacquainted with the world, he
soon acquired all the accomplishments of a courtier and a gentleman, and
made a considerable figure during the few years which he lived after he
recovered his liberty.[**] Besides performing all those popular acts,
which, though they only affected individuals, were very acceptable to
the nation, the queen endeavored to ingratiate herself with the public
by granting a general pardon, though with some exceptions, and by
remitting the subsidy voted to her brother by the last parliament.[***]
* Heylin, p. 20. Stowe, p. 613. Holingshed, p. 1088.
** Dépêches de Noailles, vol ii. p 246, 247.
*** Stowe, p. 616.
The joy arising from the succession of the lawful heir, and from the
gracious demeanor of the sovereign, hindered not the people from being
agitated with great anxiety concerning the state of religion; and as
the bulk of the nation inclined to the Protestant communion, the
apprehensions entertained concerning the principles and prejudices of
the new queen were pretty general. The legitimacy of Mary’s birth had
appeared to be somewhat connected with the papal authority; and that
princess being educated with her mother, had imbibed the strongest
attachment to the Catholic communion, and the highest aversion to those
new tenets, whence, she believed, all the misfortunes of her family
had originally sprung. The discouragements which she lay under from her
father, though at last they brought her to comply with his will, tended
still more to increase her disgust to the reformers; and the vexations
which the protector and the council gave her during Edward’s reign, had
no other effect than to confirm her further in her prejudices. Naturally
of a sour and obstinate temper, and irritated by contradiction and
misfortunes, she possessed all the qualities fitted to compose a bigot;
and her extreme ignorance rendered her utterly incapable of doubt in
her own belief, or of indulgence to the opinions of others. The nation,
therefore, had great reason to dread, not only the abolition, but the
persecution of the established religion from the zeal of Mary; and it
was not long ere she discovered her intentions.
Gardiner, Bonner, Tonstal, Day, Heath, and Vesey, were reinstated in
their sees, either by a direct act of power, or, what is nearly the
same, by the sentence of commissioners appointed to review their trial
and condemnation. Though the bishopric of Durham had been dissolved by
authority of parliament, the queen erected it anew by letters patent,
and replaced Tonstal in his regalities as well as in his revenue.
On pretence of discouraging controversy, she silenced, by an act of
prerogative, all the preachers throughout England, except such as should
obtain a particular license; and it was easy to foresee, that none but
Catholics would be favored with this privilege. Holgate, archbishop
of York, Coverdale, bishop of Exeter, Ridley of London, and Hooper of
Glocester, were thrown into prison; whither old Latimer also was sent
soon after. The zealous bishops and priests were encouraged in their
forwardness to revive the mass, though contrary to the present laws.
Judge Hales, who had discovered such constancy in defending the queen’s
title, lost all his merit by an opposition to those illegal practices;
and being committed to custody, was treated with such severity, that he
fell into frenzy, and killed himself. The men of Suffolk were browbeaten
because they presumed to plead the promise which the queen, when they
enlisted themselves in her service, had given them of maintaining the
reformed religion: one in particular was set in the pillory, because he
had been too peremptory in recalling to her memory the engagements which
she had taken on that occasion. And though the queen still promised in
a public declaration before the council, to tolerate those who differed
from her; men foresaw that this engagement, like the former, would prove
but a feeble security when set in opposition to religious prejudices.
The merits of Cranmer towards the queen during the reign of Henry had
been considerable; and he had successfully employed his good offices
in mitigating the severe prejudices which that monarch had entertained
against her. But the active part which he had borne in promoting her
mother’s divorce, as well as in conducting the reformation, had made him
the object of her hatred; and though Gardiner had been equally forward
in soliciting and defending the divorce, he had afterwards made
sufficient atonement, by his sufferings in defence of the Catholic
cause. The primate, therefore, had reason to expect little favor during
the present reign; but it was by his own indiscreet zeal, that he
brought on himself the first violence and persecution. A report being
spread that Cranmer, in order to pay court to the queen, had promised
to officiate in the Latin service, the archbishop, to wipe off this
aspersion, published a manifesto in his own defence. Among other
expressions, he there said, that as the devil was a liar from the
beginning, and the father of lies, he had at this time stirred up his
servants to persecute Christ and his true religion: that this infernal
spirit now endeavored to restore the Latin satisfactory masses, a thing
of his own invention and device; and in order to effect his purpose, had
falsely made use of Cranmer’s name and authority: and that the mass is
not only without foundation, either in the Scriptures or in the practice
of the primitive church, but likewise discovers a plain contradiction
to antiquity and the inspired writings, and is besides replete with many
horrid blasphemies.[*]
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 94. Heylin, p. 25. Godwin, p. 336.
Burnet Vol. ii. Coll. No. 8. Cranm. Mem. p. 305. Thuanus,
lib xiii. c. 8.
On the publication of this inflammatory paper Cranmer was thrown into
prison, and was tried for the part which he had acted in concurring
with the lady Jane, and opposing the queen’s accession. Sentence of high
treason was pronounced against him, and though his guilt was shared with
the whole privy council and was even less than that of the greater part
of them, this sentence, however severe, must be allowed entirely legal.
The execution of it, however, did not follow; and Cranmer was reserved
for a more cruel punishment.
Peter Martyr, seeing a persecution gathering against the reformers
desired leave to withdraw;[*] and while some zealous Catholics moved
for his commitment, Gardiner both pleaded that he had come over by
an invitation from the government, and generously furnished him with
supplies for his journey: but as bigoted zeal still increased, his
wife’s body, which had been interred at Oxford, was afterwards dug up
by public orders, and buried in a dunghill.[**] The bones of Bucer and
Fagius, two foreign reformers, were about the same time committed to the
flames at Cambridge.[***] John Alasco was first silenced, then ordered
to depart the kingdom with his congregation. The greater part of the
foreign Protestants followed him; and the nation thereby lost many
useful hands for arts and manufactures. Several English Protestants also
took shelter in foreign parts; and every thing bore a dismal aspect for
the reformation.
During this revolution of the court, no protection was expected by
Protestants from the Parliament which was summoned to assemble. A
zealous reformer[****] pretends, that great violence and iniquity were
used in the elections; but, besides that the authority of this writer is
inconsiderable, that practice, as the necessities of government seldom
required it, had not hitherto been often employed in England. There
still remained such numbers devoted by opinion or affection to many
principles of the ancient religion, that the authority of the crown was
able to give such candidates the preference in most elections; and all
those who hesitated to comply with the court religion, rather declined
taking a seat, which, while it rendered them obnoxious to the queen,
could afterwards afford them no protection against the violence of
prerogative. It soon appeared, therefore, that a majority of the commons
would be obsequious to Mary’s designs; and as the peers were mostly
attached to the court from interest or expectations, little opposition
was expected from that quarter.
* Heylin, p. 26. Godwin, p. 336. Cranm. Mem. p. 317.
** Heylin, p. 26.
*** Saunders de Schism. Anglie.
**** Beale. But Fox, who lived at the time, and is very
minute in his narratives, says nothing of the matter. See
vol. iii. p. 16.
In opening the parliament, the court showed a contempt of the laws,
by celebrating, before the two houses, a mass of the Holy Ghost in the
Latin tongue, attended with all the ancient rites and ceremonies, though
abolished by act of parliament.[*] Taylor, bishop of Lincoln, having
refused to kneel at this service, was severely handled, and was
violently thrust out of the house.[**] The queen, however, still
retained the title of supreme head of the church of England; and it was
generally pretended, that the intention of the court was only to restore
religion to the same condition in which it had been left by Henry; but
that the other abuses of popery, which were the most grievous to the
nation, would never be revived.
The first bill passed by the parliament was of a popular nature, and
abolished every species of treason not contained in the statute of
Edward III., and every species of felony that did not subsist before the
first of Henry VIII.[***] The parliament next declared the queen to be
legitimate, ratified the marriage of Henry with Catharine of Arragon,
and annulled the divorce pronounced by Cranmer,[****] whom they greatly
blamed on that account. No mention, however, is made of the pope’s
authority, as any ground of the marriage. All the statutes of King
Edward with regard to religion were repealed by one vote.[v] The
attainder of the duke of Norfolk was reversed; and this act of justice
was more reasonable than the declaring of that attainder invalid without
further authority. Many clauses of the riot act, passed in the late
reign, were revived: a step which eluded in a great measure the popular
statute enacted at the first meeting of parliament.
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 19.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 252.
*** Mariæ, sess. i. cap. 1. By this repeal, though it was in
general popular, the clause of 5 and 6 Edward VI. cap. 11,
was lost, which required the confronting of two witnesses in
order to prove any treason.
**** Mariæ, sess. ii. cap. 1.
v Mariæ, sess. ii. cap. 1.
Notwithstanding the compliance of the two houses with the queen’s
inclinations, they had still a reserve in certain articles; and her
choice of a husband, in particular, was of such importance to national
interest, that they were determined not to submit tamely, in that
respect, to her will and pleasure. There were three marriages[*]
concerning which it was supposed that Mary had deliberated after her
accession. The first person proposed to her was Courtney, earl of
Devonshire, who, being an Englishman nearly allied to the crown, could
not fail of being acceptable to the nation; and as he was of an engaging
person and address, he had visibly gained on the queen’s affections,[**]
and hints were dropped him of her favorable dispositions towards
him.[***] But that nobleman neglected these overtures; and seemed rather
to attach himself to the lady Elizabeth, whose youth and agreeable
conversation he preferred to all the power and grandeur of her sister.
This choice occasioned a great coldness in Mary towards Devonshire;
and made her break out in a declared animosity against Elizabeth. The
ancient quarrel between their mothers had sunk deep into the malignant
heart of the queen; and after the declaration made by parliament
in favor of Catharine’s marriage, she wanted not a pretence for
representing the birth of her sister as illegitimate. The attachment of
Elizabeth to the reformed religion offended Mary’s bigotry; and as the
young princess had made some difficulty in disguising her sentiments,
violent menaces had been employed to bring her to compliance.[****] But
when the queen found that Elizabeth had obstructed her views in a point
which, perhaps, touched her still more nearly, her resentment, excited
by pride, no longer knew any bounds, and the princess was visibly
exposed to the greatest danger.[v]
Cardinal Pole, who had never taken priest’s orders, was another party
proposed to the queen; and there appeared many reasons to induce her to
make choice of this prelate. The high character of Pole for virtue and
humanity; the great regard paid him by the Catholic church, of which he
had nearly reached the highest dignity on the death of Paul III.;[v*]
the queen’s affection for the countess of Salisbury, his mother, who
had once been her governess; the violent animosity to which he had been
exposed on account of his attachment to the Romish communion; all these
considerations had a powerful influence on Mary. But the cardinal was
now in the decline of life; and having contracted habits of study and
retirement, he was represented to her as unqualified for the bustle of a
court and the hurry of business.[v**]
* Thuan. lib. ii. cap. 3.
** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. ii. p. 147, 163, 214, 215;
vol. iii. p. 27.
*** Godwin, p. 339.
**** Dep. de Noailles, vol. ii. passim.
v Heylin, p. 31. Burnet, vol. ii. p, 255.
v* Father Paul, book iii.
v** Heylin, p. 31.
The queen, therefore, dropped all thoughts of that alliance: but as
she entertained a great regard for Pole’s wisdom and virtue, she still
intended to reap the benefit of his counsel in the administration of her
government. She secretly entered into a negotiation with Commendone, an
agent of Cardinal Dandino, legate at Brussels; she sent assurances to
the pope, then Julius III, of her earnest desire to reconcile herself
and her kingdoms to the holy see; and she desired that Pole might be
appointed legate for the performance of that pious office.[*]
These two marriages being rejected, the queen cast her eye towards the
emperor’s family, from which her mother was descended, and which, during
her own distresses, had always afforded her countenance and protection.
Charles V., who a few years before was almost absolute master of
Germany, had exercised his power in such an arbitrary manner, that he
gave extreme disgust to the nation, who apprehended the total extinction
of their liberties from the encroachments of that monarch.[**] Religion
had served him as a pretence for his usurpations; and from the same
principle he met with that opposition which overthrew his grandeur, and
dashed all his ambitious hopes. Maurice, elector of Saxony, enraged that
the landgrave of Hesse, who, by his advice, and on his assurances, had
put himself into the emperor’s hands, should be unjustly detained a
prisoner, formed a secret conspiracy among the Protestant princes; and,
covering his intentions with the most artful disguises, he suddenly
marched his forces against Charles, and narrowly missed becoming master
of his person.
* Burnet, vol ii. p. 258.
** Thuanus. lib. iv. c. 17.
The Protestants flew to arms in every quarter; and their insurrection,
aided by an invasion from France, reduced the emperor to such
difficulties, that he was obliged to submit to terms of peace which
insured the independency of Germany. To retrieve his honor, he made an
attack on France; and laying siege to Metz with an army of a hundred
thousand men, he conducted the enterprise in person, and seemed
determined, at all hazards, to succeed in an undertaking which had fixed
the attention of Europe. But the duke of Guise, who defended Metz with
a garrison composed of the bravest nobility of France, exerted such
vigilance, conduct, and valor, that the siege was protracted to the
depth of winter; and the emperor found it dangerous to persevere any
longer. He retired with the remains of his army into the Low Countries,
much dejected with that reverse of fortune which in his declining years,
had so fatally overtaken him.
No sooner did Charles hear of the death of Edward, and the accession of
his kinswoman Mary to the crown of England, than he formed the scheme of
acquiring that kingdom to his family; and he hoped by this incident to
balance all the losses which he had sustained in Germany. His son Philip
was a widower; and though he was only twenty-seven years of age, eleven
years younger than the queen, this objection, it was thought, would be
overlooked, and there was no reason to despair of her still having a
numerous issue. The emperor, therefore, immediately sent over an agent
to signify his intentions to Mary; who, pleased with the support of so
powerful an alliance, and glad to unite herself more closely with
her mother’s family, to which she was ever strongly attached, readily
embraced the proposal. Norfolk, Arundel, and Paget, gave their advice
for the match: and Gardiner, who was become prime minister, and who
had been promoted to the office of chancellor, finding how Mary’s
inclinations lay, seconded the project of the Spanish alliance. At the
same time he represented, both to her and the emperor, the necessity of
stopping all further innovations in religion, till the completion of the
marriage. He observed, that the parliament amidst all their compliances
had discovered evident symptoms of jealousy, and seemed at present
determined to grant no further concessions in favor of the Catholic
religion: that though they might make a sacrifice to their sovereign of
some speculative principles which they did not well comprehend, or of
some rites which seemed not of any great moment, they had imbibed such
strong prejudices against the pretended usurpations and exactions of the
court of Rome, that they would with great difficulty be again brought
to submit to its authority: that the danger of resuming the abbey lands
would alarm the nobility and gentry, and induce them to encourage the
prepossessions, which were but too general among the people, against the
doctrine and worship of the Catholic church: that much pains had been
taken to prejudice the nation against the Spanish alliance; and if that
point were urged at the same time with further changes in religion, it
would hazard a general revolt and insurrection: that the marriage being
once completed would give authority to the queen’s measures, and enable
her afterwards to forward the pious work in which she was engaged: and
that it was even necessary previously to reconcile the people to
the marriage, by rendering the conditions extremely favorable to the
English, and such as would seem to insure to them their independency,
and the entire possession of their ancient laws and privileges.[*]
The emperor, well acquainted with the prudence and experience of
Gardiner, assented to all these reasons, and he endeavored to temper the
zeal of Mary, by representing the necessity of proceeding gradually in
the great work of converting the nation. Hearing that Cardinal Pole,
more sincere in his religious opinions, and less guided by the maxims
of human policy, after having sent contrary advice to the queen, had
set out on his journey to England, where he was to exercise his legatine
commission, he thought proper to stop him at Dillinghen, a town on the
Danube; and he afterwards obtained Mary’s consent for this detention.
The negotiation for the marriage meanwhile proceeded apace; and Mary’s
intentions of espousing Philip became generally known to the nation.
The commons, who hoped that they had gained the queen by the concessions
which they had already made, were alarmed to hear that she was resolved
to contract a foreign alliance; and they sent a committee to remonstrate
in strong terms against that dangerous measure. To prevent further
applications of the same kind, she thought proper to dissolve the
parliament.
A convocation had been summoned at the same time with the parliament;
and the majority here also appeared to be of the court religion. An
offer was very frankly made by the Romanists, to dispute concerning
the points controverted between the two communions; and as
transubstantiation was the article which of all others they deemed the
clearest, and founded on the most irresistible arguments, they chose to
try their strength by defending it. The Protestants pushed the dispute
as far as the clamor and noise of their antagonists would permit; and
they fondly imagined that they had obtained some advantage, when, in the
course of the debate, they obliged the Catholics to avow that, according
to their doctrine, Christ had in his last supper held himself in his
hand, and had swallowed and eaten himself.[**]
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 261.
** Collier, vol. ii. p. 356.
This triumph, however, was confined only to their own party: the
Romanists maintained, that their champions had clearly the better of
the day, that their adversaries were blind and obstinate heretics; that
nothing but the most extreme depravity of heart could induce men to
contest such self-evident principles; and that the severest punishments
were due to their perverse wickedness. So pleased were they with their
superiority in this favorite point, that they soon after renewed the
dispute at Oxford; and, to show that they feared no force of learning or
abilities, where reason was so evident on their side, they sent thither
Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, under a guard, to try whether these
renowned controversialists could find any appearance of argument to
defend their baffled principles.[*] The issue of the debate was very
different from what it appeared to be a few years before, in a famous
conference held at the same place during the reign of Edward.
{1554.} After the parliament and convocation were dismissed, the new
laws with regard to religion, though they had been anticipated in most
places by the zeal of the Catholics, countenanced by government,
were still more openly put in execution: the mass was every where
reëstablished; and marriage was declared to be incompatible with any
spiritual office. It has been asserted by some writers, that three
fourths of the clergy were at this time deprived of their livings;
though other historians, more accurate,[**] have estimated the number
of sufferers to be far short of this proportion. A visitation was
appointed, in order to restore more perfectly the mass and the ancient
rites. Among other articles, the commissioners were enjoined to forbid
the oath of supremacy to be taken by the clergy on their receiving any
benefice.[***] It is to be observed, that this oath had been established
by the laws of Henry VIII., which were still in force.
* Mem. Cranm. p. 354. Heylin, p. 50.
** Harmer, p. 138.
*** Collier, vol. ii. p. 364. Fox, vol. iii. p. 38. Heylin,
p. 35. Sleiden, lib. xxv.
This violent and sudden change of religion inspired the Protestants with
great discontent; and even affected indifferent spectators with concern,
by the hardships to which so many individuals were on that account
exposed. But the Spanish match was a point of more general concern, and
diffused universal apprehension for the liberty and independence of the
nation. To obviate all clamor, the articles of marriage were drawn as
favorable as possible for the interests and security, and even grandeur
of England. It was agreed, that though Philip should have the title
of king, the administration should be entirely in the queen; that no
foreigner should be capable of enjoying any office in the kingdom;
that no innovation should be made in the English laws, customs, and
privileges; that Philip should not carry the queen abroad without her
consent, nor any of her children without the consent of the nobility;
that sixty thousand pounds a year should be settled as her jointure;
that the male issue of this marriage should inherit, together with
England, both Burgundy and the Low Countries; and that if Don Carlos,
Philip’s son by his former marriage, should die, and his line be
extinct, the queen’s issue, whether male or female, should inherit
Spain, Sicily, Milan, and all the other dominions of Philip.[*] Such
was the treaty of marriage signed by Count Egmont and three other
ambassadors, sent over to England by the emperor.[**]
These articles, when published, gave no satisfaction to the nation. It
was universally said, that the emperor, in order to get possession of
England, would verbally agree to any terms and the greater advantage
there appeared in the conditions which he granted, the more certainly
might it be concluded that he had no serious intention of observing
them: that the usual fraud and ambition of that monarch might assure the
nation of such a conduct: and his son Philip, while he inherited these
vices from his father, added to them tyranny, sullenness, pride, and
barbarity, more dangerous vices of his own: that England would become a
province, and a province to a kingdom which usually exercised the
most violent authority over all her dependent dominions: that the
Netherlands, Milan, Sicily, Naples, groaned under the burden of Spanish
tyranny; and throughout all the new conquests in America there had been
displayed scenes of unrelenting cruelty, hitherto unknown in the
history of mankind: that the inquisition was a tribunal invented by that
tyrannical nation, and would infallibly, with all their other laws
and institutions, be introduced into England; and that the divided
sentiments of the people with regard to religion would subject
multitudes to this iniquitous tribunal, and would reduce the whole
nation to the most abject servitude.[***]
* Rymer, vol. xv. p. 377.
** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. ii. p. 299.
*** Heylin p. 32. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 268. Godwin, p. 339.
These complaints being diffused every where, prepared the people for a
rebellion; and had any foreign power given them encouragement, or any
great man appeared to head them, the consequence might have proved fatal
to the queen’s authority. But the king of France, though engaged in
hostilities with the emperor, refused to concur in any proposal for an
insurrection, lest he should afford Mary a pretence for declaring war
against him.[*] And the more prudent part of the nobility thought that,
as the evils of the Spanish alliance were only dreaded at a distance,
matters were not yet fully prepared for a general revolt. Some persons,
however, more turbulent than the rest, believed that it would be safer
to prevent than to redress grievances; and they formed a conspiracy to
rise in arms, and declare against the queen’s marriage with Philip. Sir
Thomas Wiat purposed to raise Kent; Sir Peter Carew, Devonshire; and
they engaged the duke of Suffolk, by the hopes of recovering the crown
for the lady Jane, to attempt raising the midland counties.[**] Carew’s
impatience or apprehensions engaged him to break the concert, and to
rise in arms before the day appointed. He was soon suppressed by
the earl of Bedford, and constrained to fly into France. On this
intelligence, Suffolk, dreading an arrest, suddenly left the town with
his brothers, Lord Thomas and Lord Leonard Gray, and endeavored to raise
the people in the counties of Warwick and Leicester, where his interest
lay; but he was so closely pursued by the earl of Huntingdon, at
the head of three hundred horse, that he was obliged to disperse his
followers, and being discovered in his concealment, he was carried
prisoner to London.[***]
* Dépêches de Noailles, vol. ii. p. 249; vol. iii. p. 17,
58.
** Heylin, p. 33. Godwin, p. 340.
*** Fox, vol. iii. p. 30.
Wiat was at first more successful in his attempt; and having published a
declaration, at Maidstone in Kent, against the queen’s evil counsellors,
and against the Spanish match, without any mention of religion, the
people began to flock to his standard. The duke of Norfolk, with Sir
Henry Jernegan, was sent against him, at the head of the guards and some
other troops, reënforced with five hundred Londoners commanded by Bret:
and he came within sight of the rebels at Rochester, where they had
fixed their head-quarters. Sir George Harper here pretended to desert
from them; but having secretly gained Bret, these two malecontents so
wrought on the Londoners, that the whole body deserted to Wiat, and
declared that they would not contribute to enslave their native country.
Norfolk, dreading the contagion of the example, immediately retreated
with his troops, and took shelter in the city.[*]
After this proof of the disposition of the people, especially of the
Londoners, who were mostly Protestants, Wiat was encouraged to proceed;
he led his forces to Southwark, where he required of the queen that she
should put the Tower into his hands, should deliver four counsellors
as hostages, and in order to insure the liberty of the nation, should
immediately marry an Englishman. Finding that the bridge was secured
against him, and that the city was overawed, he marched up to Kingston,
where he passed the river with four thousand men; and returning towards
London, hoped to encourage his partisans who had engaged to declare for
him. He had imprudently wasted so much time at Southwark, and in his
march from Kingston, that the critical season, on which all popular
commotions depend, was entirely lost: though he entered Westminster
without resistance, his followers, finding that no person of note joined
him, insensibly fell off, and he was at last seized near Temple Bar by
Sir Maurice Berkeley.[**] Four hundred persons are said to have suffered
for this rebellion:[***] four hundred more were conducted before the
queen with ropes about their necks: and falling on their knees, received
a pardon, and were dismissed. Wiat was condemned and executed: as it
had been reported that, on his examination, he had accused the lady
Elizabeth and the earl of Devonshire as accomplices, he took care, on
the scaffold, before the whole people, fully to acquit them of having
any share in his rebellion.
* Heylin, p. 33. Godwin, p. 341. Stowe, p. 619. Baker, p.
318. Holingshed, p. 1094.
** Fox, vol. iii. p. 31. Heylin, p. 34. Burnet, vol. ii. p.
270. Stowe, p. 621.
*** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iii. p. 124.
The lady Elizabeth had been, during some time, treated with great
harshness by her sister; and many studied instances of discouragement
and disrespect had been practised against her. She was ordered to take
place at court after the countess of Lenox and the duchess of Suffolk,
as if she were not legitimate:[*] her friends were discountenanced on
every occasion: and while her virtues, which were now become eminent,
drew to her the attendance of all the young nobility, and rendered
her the favorite of the nation;[**] the malevolence of the queen still
discovered itself every day by fresh symptoms, and obliged the princess
to retire into the country. Mary seized the opportunity of this
rebellion; and hoping to involve her sister in some appearance of guilt,
sent for her under a strong guard, committed her to the Tower, and
ordered her to be strictly examined by the council. But the public
declaration made by Wiat rendered it impracticable to employ against her
any false evidence which might have offered; and the princess made
so good a defence, that the queen found herself under a necessity of
releasing her.[***] In order to send her out of the kingdom, a marriage
was offered her with the duke of Savoy; and when she declined the
proposal, she was committed to custody under a strong guard at
Wodestoke.[****] The earl of Devonshire, though equally innocent, was
confined in Fotheringay Castle.
But this rebellion proved still more fatal to the lady Jane Gray, as
well as to her husband: the duke of Suffolk’s guilt was imputed to her;
and though the rebels and malecontents seemed chiefly to rest their
hopes on the lady Elizabeth and the earl of Devonshire, the queen,
incapable of generosity or clemency, determined to remove every person
from whom the least danger could be apprehended. Warning was given the
lady Jane to prepare for death; a doom which she had long expected, and
which the innocence of her life, as well as the misfortunes to which she
had been exposed, rendered nowise unwelcome to her. The queen’s zeal,
under color of tender mercy to the prisoner’s soul, induced her to
send divines, who harassed her with perpetual disputation; and even
a reprieve for three days was granted her, in hopes that she would be
persuaded during that time to pay, by a timely conversion, some regard
to her eternal welfare. The lady Jane had presence of mind, in those
melancholy circumstances, not only to defend her religion by all the
topics then in use, but also to write a letter to her sister[v] in the
Greek language; in which, besides sending her a copy of the Scriptures
in that tongue, she exhorted her to maintain, in every fortune, a like
steady perseverance.
* Dépêches de Noailles, vol. ii. p. 273, 288.
** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iii. p. 273.
*** Godwin, p. 343. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 273. Fox, vol. ii.
p. 99, 105. Strype’s Mem. vol. iii. p. 85.
**** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iii. p. 226.
v Fox vol. iii. p. 35. Heylin, p. 166.
On the day of her execution, her husband, Lord Guildford, desired
permission to see her; but she refused her consent, and informed him
by a message, that the tenderness of their parting would overcome the
fortitude of both, and would too much unbend their minds from
that constancy which their approaching end required of them: their
separation, she said, would be only for a moment; and they would soon
rejoin each other in a scene where their affections would be forever
united, and where death, disappointment, and misfortunes, could no
longer have access to them, or disturb their eternal felicity.[*]
It had been intended to execute the lady Jane and Lord Guildford
together on the same scaffold at Tower Hill; but the council, dreading
the compassion of the people for their youth, beauty, innocence, and
noble birth, changed their orders, and gave directions that she should
be beheaded within the verge of the Tower. She saw her husband led
to execution; and having given him from the window some token of her
remembrance, she waited with tranquillity till her own appointed hour
should bring her to a like fate. She even saw his headless body carried
back in a cart; and found herself more confirmed by the reports which
she heard of the constancy of his end, than shaken by so tender and
melancholy a spectacle. Sir John Gage, constable of the Tower, when he
led her to execution, desired her to bestow on him some small present,
which he might keep as a perpetual memorial of her: she gave him her
table-book, on which she had just written three sentences on seeing
her husband’s dead body; one in Greek, another in Latin, a third in
English.[**] The purport of them was, that human justice was against his
body, but divine mercy would be favorable to his soul; that if her fault
deserved punishment, her youth at least, and her imprudence, were worthy
of excuse; and that God and posterity, she trusted, would show her
favor.
* Heylin, p. 167. Baker p. 319.
** Heylin, p. 167.
On the scaffold she made a speech to the bystanders; in which the
mildness of her disposition led her to take the blame wholly on herself,
without uttering one complaint against the severity with which she had
been treated. She said, that her offence was not the having laid her
hand upon the crown, but the not rejecting it with sufficient constancy;
that she had less erred through ambition than through reverence to
her parents, whom she had been taught to respect and obey: that she
willingly received death, as the only satisfaction which she could now
make to the injured state; and though her infringement of the laws had
been constrained, she would show, by her voluntary submission to their
sentence, that she was desirous to atone for that disobedience into
which too much filial piety had betrayed her: that she had justly
deserved this punishment for being made the instrument, though the
unwilling instrument, of the ambition of others; and that the story of
her life, she hoped, might at least be useful, by proving that innocence
excuses not great misdeeds, if they tend anywise to the destruction of
the commonwealth. After uttering these words, she caused herself to be
disrobed by her women; and with a steady serene countenance submitted
herself to the executioner.[*]
The duke of Suffolk was tried, condemned, and executed soon after; and
would have met with more compassion, had not his temerity been the cause
of his daughter’s untimely end. Lord Thomas Gray lost his life for the
same crime. Sir Nicholas Throgmorton was tried in Guildhall; but there
appearing no satisfactory evidence against him, he was able, by making
an admirable defence, to obtain a verdict of the jury in his favor. The
queen was so enraged at this disappointment, that, instead of releasing
him as the law required, she recommitted him to the Tower, and kept him
in close confinement during some time. But her resentment stopped not
here: the jury, being summoned before the council, were all sent to
prison, and afterwards fined, some of them a thousand pounds, others two
thousand apiece.[**] This violence proved fatal to several; among others
to Sir John Throgmorton, brother to Sir Nicholas, who was condemned on
no better evidence, than had formerly been rejected. The queen filled
the Tower and all the prisons with nobility and gentry, whom their
interest with the nation, rather than any appearance of guilt, had
made the objects of her suspicion; and finding that she was universally
hated, she determined to disable the people from resistance, by ordering
general musters, and directing the commissioners to seize their arms,
and lay them up in forts and castles.[***]
* Heylin, p. 167. Fox, vol iii. p. 36, 37. Holingshed, p.
1099.
** Fox, vol. iii. p. 99. Stowe, p. 624. Baker, p. 320.
Holingshed, p. 1104, 1121. Strype, vol. iii. p. 120. Dép. de
Noailles, vol. iii. p. 173.
*** Dép. de Noailles, vol. iii p. 98.
Though the government labored under so general an odium, the queen’s
authority had received such an increase from the suppression of Wiat’s
rebellion, that the ministry hoped to find a compliant disposition in
the new parliament which was summoned to assemble. The emperor also, in
order to facilitate the same end, had borrowed no less a sum than
four hundred thousand crowns, which he had sent over to England to
be distributed in bribes and pensions among the members: a pernicious
practice, of which there had not hitherto been any instance in England.
And not to give the public any alarm with regard to the church lands,
the queen, notwithstanding her bigotry, resumed her title of supreme
head of the church, which she had dropped three months before. Gardiner,
the chancellor, opened the session by a speech; in which he asserted the
queen’s hereditary title to the crown; maintained her right of choosing
a husband for herself; observed how proper a use she had made of that
right, by giving the preference to an old ally, descended from the house
of Burgundy; and remarked the failure of Henry VIII.’s posterity, of
whom there now remained none but the queen and the lady Elizabeth. He
added, that, in order to obviate the inconveniencies which might arise
from different pretenders, it was necessary to invest the queen, by law,
with a power of disposing of the crown, and of appointing her successor:
a power, he said, which was not to be thought unprecedented in England,
since it had formerly been conferred on Henry VIII.[*]
* Dépêches de Noailles.
The parliament was much disposed to gratify the queen in all her
desires; but when the liberty, independency, and very being of the
nation were in such visible danger, they could not by any means be
brought to compliance. They knew both the inveterate hatred which she
bore to the lady Elizabeth, and her devoted attachment to the house of
Austria: they were acquainted with her extreme bigotry, which would lead
her to postpone all considerations of justice or national interest to
the establishment of the Catholic religion: they remarked, that
Gardiner had carefully avoided in his speech the giving to Elizabeth
the appellation of the queen’s sister; and they thence concluded that a
design was formed of excluding her as illegitimate: they expected that
Mary, if invested with such a power as she required, would make a will
in her husband’s favor, and thereby render England forever a province
to the Spanish monarchy; and they were the more alarmed with these
projects, as they heard that Philip’s descent from the house of
Lancaster was carefully insisted on, and that he was publicly
represented as the true and only heir by right of inheritance.
The parliament, therefore, aware of their danger, were determined to
keep at a distance from the precipice which lay before them. They could
not avoid ratifying the articles of marriage,[*] which were drawn very
favorable for England; but they declined the passing of any such law as
the chancellor pointed out to them: they would not so much as declare it
treason to imagine or attempt the death of the queen’s husband while she
was alive; and a bill introduced for that purpose was laid aside after
the first reading. The more effectually to cut off Philip’s hopes of
possessing any authority in England, they passed a law in which they
declared, “that her majesty, as their only queen, should solely, and as
a sole queen, enjoy the crown and sovereignty of her realms, with all
the preëminences, dignities, and rights thereto belonging, in as large
and ample a manner after her marriage as before, without any title or
claim accruing to the prince of Spain, either as tenant by courtesy of
the realm, or by any other means.”[**]
A law passed in this parliament for reërecting the bishopric of Durham,
which had been dissolved by the last parliament of Edward.[***]
The queen had already, by an exertion of her power, put Tonstal in
possession of that see: but though it was usual at that time for the
crown to assume authority which might seem entirely legislative, it
was always deemed more safe and satisfactory to procure the sanction
of parliament. Bills were introduced for suppressing heterodox opinions
contained in books, and for reviving the law of the six articles,
together with those against the Lollards, and against heresy and
erroneous preaching; but none of these laws could pass the two houses:
a proof that the parliament had reserves even in their concessions with
regard to religion; about which they seem to have been less scrupulous.
The queen, therefore, finding that they would not serve all her
purposes, finished the session by dissolving them.
* I Mar. Parl. 2, cap. 2.
** I Mar. Parl. 2. cap. 1.
*** I Mar. Parl. 2, cap. 3.
Mary’s thoughts were now entirely employed about receiving Don Philip,
whose arrival she hourly expected. This princess, who had lived so many
years in a very reserved and private manner, without any prospect or
hopes of a husband, was so smitten with affection for her young consort,
whom she had never seen, that she waited with the utmost impatience for
the completion of the marriage; and every obstacle was to her a source
of anxiety and discontent.[*] She complained of Philip’s delays as
affected; and she could not conceal her vexation, that, though she
brought him a kingdom as her dowry, he treated her with such neglect
that he had never yet favored her with a single letter.[**] Her fondness
was but the more increased by this supercilious treatment; and when she
found that her subjects had entertained the greatest aversion for the
event to which she directed her fondest wishes, she made the whole
English nation the object of her resentment. A squadron, under the
command of Lord Effingham, had been fitted out to convoy Philip from
Spain, where he then resided; but the admiral informing her that the
discontents ran very high among the seamen, and that it was not safe
for Philip to intrust himself in their hands, she gave orders to dismiss
them.[***] She then dreaded lest the French fleet, being masters of the
sea, might intercept her husband; and every rumor of danger, every blast
of wind, threw her into panics and convulsions. Her health, and even her
understanding, were visibly hurt by this extreme impatience; and she
was struck with a new apprehension lest her person, impaired by time and
blasted by sickness, should prove disagreeable to her future consort.
Her glass discovered to her how haggard she was become; and when she
remarked the decay of her beauty, she knew not whether she ought more to
desire or apprehend the arrival of Philip.[****]
* Strype, vol. iii. p. 125.
** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iii. p. 248.
*** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iii. p. 220.
**** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iii. p. 222, 252, 253.
At last came the moment so impatiently expected; and news was brought
the queen of Philip’s arrival at Southampton.[*] A few days after
they were married in Westminster; and having made a pompous entry into
London, where Philip displayed his wealth with great ostentation, she
carried him to Windsor, the palace in which they afterwards resided. The
prince’s behavior was ill calculated to remove the prejudices which the
English nation had entertained against him. He was distant and
reserved in his address; took no notice of the salutes even of the most
considerable noblemen; and so intrenched himself in form and ceremony
that he was in a manner inaccessible:[**] but this circumstance rendered
him the more acceptable to the queen, who desired to have no company but
her husband’s, and who was impatient when she met with any interruption
to her fondness. The shortest absence gave her vexation; and, when he
showed civilities to any other woman, she could not conceal her jealousy
and resentment.
Mary soon found that Philip’s ruling passion was ambition, and that the
only method of gratifying him and securing his affections was to render
him master of England. The interest and liberty of her people were
considerations of small moment in comparison of her obtaining this
favorite point. She summoned a new parliament, in hopes of finding them
entirely compliant; and, that she might acquire the greater authority
over them, she imitated the precedent of the former reign, and wrote
circular letters, directing a proper choice of members.[***] The zeal of
the Catholics, the influence of Spanish gold, the powers of prerogative,
the discouragement of the gentry, particularly of the Protestants; all
these causes, seconding the intrigues of Gardiner, had procured her a
house of commons which was in a great measure to her satisfaction; and
it was thought, from the disposition of the nation, that she might now
safely omit, on her assembling the parliament, the title of “supreme
head of the church,” though inseparably annexed by law to the crown
of England.[****] Cardinal Pole had arrived in Flanders, invested with
legatine powers from the pope: in order to prepare the way for his
arrival in England, the parliament passed an act reversing his attainder
and restoring his blood; and the queen, dispensing with the old statute
of provisors, granted him permission to act as legate. The cardinal came
over, and, after being introduced to the king and queen, he invited the
parliament to reconcile themselves and the kingdom to the apostolic see,
from which they had been so long and so unhappily divided.
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 99. Heylin, p. 39. Burnet, vol. iii. p.
392. Godwin, p. 345. We are told by Sir William Monson, p.
225, that the admiral of England fired at the Spanish navy
when Philip was on board, because they had not lowered their
topsails, as a mark of deference, to the English navy in the
narrow seas: a very spirited behavior, and very unlike those
times.
** Baker, p. 320.
*** Mem. of Cranm. p. 344. Strype’s Eccl. Mem., vol. iii. p.
154, 155*[**missing period]
**** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 291. Strype, vol. iii. p. 155.
This message was taken in good part; and both houses voted an address
to Philip and Mary, acknowledging that they had been guilty of a most
horrible defection from the true church; professing a sincere repentance
of their past transgressions; declaring their resolution to repeal
all laws enacted in prejudice of the church of Rome; and praying their
majesties, that, since they were happily uninfected with that criminal
schism, they would intercede with the holy father for the absolution
and forgiveness of their penitent subjects.[*] The request was easily
granted. The legate, in the name of his holiness, gave the parliament
and kingdom absolution, freed them from all censures, and received them
again into the bosom of the church. The pope, then Julius III., being
informed of these transactions, said that it was an unexampled instance
of his felicity to receive thanks from the English for allowing them to
do what he ought to give them thanks for performing.[**]
Notwithstanding the extreme zeal of those times for and against popery,
the object always uppermost with the nobility and gentry was their money
and estates: they were not brought to make these concessions in favor of
Rome till they had received repeated assurances, from the pope as well
as the queen, that the plunder which they had made on the ecclesiastics
should never be inquired into; and that the abbey and church lands
should remain with the present possessors.[***] But not trusting
altogether to these promises, the parliament took care, in the law
itself[****] by which they repealed the former statutes enacted against
the pope’s authority, to insert a clause, in which, besides bestowing
validity on all marriages celebrated during the schism, and fixing
the right of incumbents to their benefices, they gave security to
the possessors of church lands, and freed them from all danger of
ecclesiastical censures. The convocation also, in order to remove
apprehensions on that head, were induced to present a petition to the
same purpose;[v] and the legate, in his master’s name, ratified all
these transactions. It now appeared that, notwithstanding the efforts of
the queen and king, the power of the papacy was effectually suppressed
in England, and invincible barriers fixed against its reëstablishment.
For though the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastics was for the present
restored, their property, on which their power much depended, was
irretrievably lost, and no hopes remained of recovering it.
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 3. Heylin, p. 42. Burnet, vol. ii. p.
293. Godwin, p. 247.
** Father Paul, lib. iv.
*** Heylin, p. 41.
**** I and 2 Phil. and Mar. c. 8.
v Heylin, p. 43. I and 2 Phil, and Mar. c. 8. Strype,
vol. iii. p. 159.
Even these arbitrary, powerful, and bigoted princes, while the
transactions were yet recent, could not regain to the church her
possessions so lately ravished from her; and no expedients were left to
the clergy for enriching themselves but those which they had at first
practised, and which had required many ages of ignorance, barbarism, and
superstition to produce their effect on mankind.[*] [21]
The parliament, having secured their own possessions, were more
indifferent with regard to religion, or even to the lives of their
fellow-citizens: they revived the old sanguinary laws against
heretics,[**] which had been rejected in the former parliament: they
also enacted several statutes against seditious words and rumors;[***]
and they made it treason to imagine or attempt the death of Philip
during his marriage with the queen.[****] Each parliament hitherto had
been induced to go a step farther than their predecessors; but none of
them had entirely lost all regard to national interests. Their
hatred against the Spaniards, as well as their suspicion of Philip’s
pretensions, still prevailed; and though the queen attempted to get
her husband declared presumptive heir of the crown, and to have the
administration put into his hands, she failed in all her endeavors,
and could not so much as procure the parliament’s consent to his
coronation.[v] All attempts likewise to obtain subsidies from the
commons, in order to support the emperor in his war against France,
proved fruitless: the usual animosity and jealousy of the English
against that kingdom seemed to have given place, for the present, to
like passions against Spain. Philip, sensible of the prepossessions
entertained against him, endeavored to acquire popularity by procuring
the release of several prisoners of distinction; Lord Henry Dudley, Sir
George Harper, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, Sir Edmond Warner, Sir William
St. Lo, Sir Nicholas Arnold, Harrington, Tremaine, who had been confined
from the suspicions or resentment of the court.[v*] But nothing was more
agreeable to the nation than his protecting the lady Elizabeth from
the spite and malice of the queen, and restoring her to liberty. This
measure was not the effect of any generosity in Philip, a sentiment of
which he was wholly destitute; but of a refined policy, which made him
foresee that, if that princess were put to death, the next lawful heir
was the queen of Scots, whose succession would forever annex England
to the crown of France. The earl of Devonshire also reaped some benefit
from Philip’s affectation of popularity, and recovered his liberty: but
that nobleman, finding himself exposed to suspicion, begged permission
to travel;[v**] and he soon after died at Padua, from poison, as is
pretended, given him by the imperialists. He was the eleventh and last
earl of Devonshire of that noble family, one of the most illustrious in
Europe.
* See note U, at the end of the volume.
** 1 and 2 Phil. and Mar. c. 6.
*** 1 and 2 Phil. and Mar. c. 3, 9.
**** 1 and 2 Phil. and Mar. c. 10.
v Godwin, p. 348. Baker, p. 322.
v* Heylin, p. 39. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 287. Stowe, p. 626.
Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iv. p. 146, 147.
v** Heylin, p. 40. Godwin, p. 349.
The queen’s extreme desire of having issue had made her fondly
give credit to any appearance of pregnancy; and when the legate was
introduced to her, she fancied that she felt the embryo stir in her
womb.[*] Her flatterers compared this motion of the infant to that of
John the Baptist, who, leaped in his mother’s belly at the salutation
of the Virgin.[**] Despatches were immediately sent to inform foreign
courts of this event: orders were issued to give public thanks: great
rejoicings were made: the family of the young prince was already
settled;[***] for the Catholics held themselves assured that the child
was to be a male: and Bonner, bishop of London, made public prayers be
said, that Heaven would please to render him beautiful, vigorous, and
witty. But the nation still remained somewhat incredulous; and men were
persuaded that the queen labored under infirmities which rendered her
incapable of having children. Her infant proved only the commencement of
a dropsy, which the disordered state of her health had brought upon her.
The belief, however, of her pregnancy was upheld with all possible care;
and was one artifice by which Philip endeavored to support his authority
in the kingdom.
* Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iv. p. 25.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 292. Godwin, p. 348.
*** Heylin, p. 46.
{1555.} The parliament passed a law, which, in case of the queen’s
demise, appointed him protector during the minority; and the king
and queen, finding they could obtain no further concessions, came
unexpectedly to Westminster and dissolved them.
There happened an incident this session which must not be passed over
in silence. Several members of the lower house, dissatisfied with the
measures of the parliament, but finding themselves unable to prevent
them, made a secession, in order to show their disapprobation, and
refused any longer to attend the house.[*] For this instance of
contumacy they were indicted in the king’s bench, after the dissolution
of parliament: six of them submitted to the mercy of the court, and paid
their fines: the rest traversed; and the queen died before the affair
was brought to an issue. Judging of the matter by the subsequent claims
of the house of commons, and, indeed, by the true principles of free
government, this attempt of the queen’s ministers must be regarded as
a breach of privilege; but it gave little umbrage at the time, and was
never called in question by any house of commons which afterwards sat
during this reign. The count of Noailles, the French ambassador, says
that the queen threw several members into prison for their freedom of
speech.[**]
* Coke’s Institutes, part iii. p. 17. Strype’s Memor. vol.
i.p.165
** Vol. v. p. 296.
CHAPTER XXXVII
MARY.
{1555.} THE success which Gardiner, from his cautious and prudent
conduct, had met with in governing the parliament, and engaging them
to concur both in the Spanish match and in the reëstablishment of the
ancient religion,--two points to which, it was believed, they bore an
extreme aversion,--had so raised his character for wisdom and policy
that his opinion was received as an oracle in the council; and his
authority, as it was always great in his own party, no longer suffered
any opposition or control. Cardinal Pole himself, though more beloved
on account of his virtue and candor, and though superior in birth and
station, had not equal weight in public deliberations; and while
his learning, piety, and humanity were extremely respected, he was
represented more as a good man than a great minister. A very important
question was frequently debated before the queen and council by these
two ecclesiastics; whether the laws lately revived against heretics
should be put in execution, or should only be employed to restrain by
terror the bold attempts of these zealots. Pole was very sincere in
his religious principles; and though his moderation had made him be
suspected at Rome of a tendency towards Lutheranism, he was seriously
persuaded of the Catholic doctrines, and thought that no consideration
of human policy ought ever to come in competition with such important
interests. Gardiner, on the contrary, had always made his religion
subservient to his schemes of safety or advancement; and by his
unlimited complaisance to Henry, he had shown that, had he not been
pushed to extremity under the late minority, he was sufficiently
disposed to make a sacrifice of his principles to the established
theology. This was the well-known character of these two great
counsellors; yet such is the prevalence of temper above system, that
the benevolent disposition of Pole led him to advise a toleration of
the heretical tenets which he highly blamed; while the severe manners of
Gardiner inclined him to support by persecution that religion which, at
the bottom, he regarded with great indifference.[*] This circumstance of
public conduct was of the highest importance; and from being the object
of deliberation in the council, it soon became the subject of discourse
throughout the nation. We shall relate, in a few words, the topics by
which each side supported, or might have supported, their scheme of
policy; and shall display the opposite reasons which have been employed,
with regard to an argument that ever has been, and ever will be, so much
canvassed.
* Heylin, p. 47.
The practice of persecution, said the defenders of Pole’s opinion, is
the scandal of all religion; and the theological animosity, so fierce
and violent, far from being an argument of men’s conviction in their
opposite sects, is a certain proof that they have never reached any
serious persuasion with regard to these remote and sublime subjects.
Even those who are the most impatient of contradiction in other
controversies, are mild and moderate in comparison of polemical divines;
and wherever a man’s knowledge and experience give him a perfect
assurance in his own opinion, he regards with contempt, rather than
anger, the opposition and mistakes of others. But while men zealously
maintain what they neither clearly comprehend nor entirely believe, they
are shaken in their imagined faith by the opposite persuasion, or even
doubts, of other men; and vent on their antagonists that impatience
which is the natural result of so disagreeable a state of the
understanding. They then easily embrace any pretense for representing
opponents as impious and profane; and if they can also find a color for
connecting this violence with the interests of civil government, they
can no longer be restrained from giving uncontrolled scope to vengeance
and resentment. But surely never enterprise was more unfortunate than
that of founding persecution upon policy, or endeavoring, for the sake
of peace, to settle an entire uniformity of opinion in questions which,
of all others, are least subjected to the criterion of human reason.
The universal and uncontradicted prevalence of one opinion in religious
subjects can be owing, at first, to the stupid ignorance alone and
barbarism of the people, who never indulge themselves in any speculation
or inquiry; and there is no expedient for maintaining that uniformity
so fondly sought after, but by banishing forever all curiosity, and
all improvement in science and cultivation. It may not indeed appear
difficult to check, by a steady severity, the first beginnings of
controversy; but besides that this policy exposes forever the people
to all the abject terrors of superstition, and the magistrate to the
endless encroachments of ecclesiastics, it also renders men so delicate
that they can never endure to hear of opposition; and they will some
time pay dearly for that false tranquillity in which they have been so
long indulged. As healthful bodies are ruined by too nice a regimen, and
are thereby rendered incapable of bearing the unavoidable incidents
of human life, a people who never were allowed to imagine that their
principles could be contested fly out into the most outrageous violence
when any event (and such events are common) produces a faction among
their clergy, and gives rise to any difference in tenet or opinion. But
whatever may be said in favor of suppressing, by persecution, the first
beginnings of heresy, no solid argument can be alleged for extending
severity towards multitudes, or endeavoring, by capital punishments, to
extirpate an opinion which has diffused itself among men of every
rank and station. Besides the extreme barbarity of such an attempt, it
commonly proves ineffectual to the purpose intended, and serves only to
make men more obstinate in their persuasion, and to increase the number
of their proselytes. The melancholy with which the fear of death,
torture, and persecution inspires the sectaries, is the proper
disposition for fostering religious zeal: the prospect of eternal
rewards, when brought near, overpowers the dread of temporal
punishments: the glory of martyrdom stimulates all the more furious
zealots, especially the leaders and preachers: where a violent animosity
is excited by oppression, men naturally pass from hating the persons of
their tyrants to a more violent abhorrence of their doctrines: and the
spectators, moved with pity towards the supposed martyrs, are easily
seduced to embrace those principles which can inspire men with a
constancy that appears almost supernatural. Open the door to toleration,
mutual hatred relaxes among the sectaries, their attachment to their
particular modes of religion decays; the common occupations and
pleasures of life succeed to the acrimony of disputation; and the same
man who, in other circumstances, would have braved flames and tortures,
is induced to change his sect from the smallest prospect of favor
and advancement, or even from the frivolous hope of becoming more
fashionable in his principles. If any exception can be admitted to this
maxim of toleration, it will only be where a theology altogether new,
nowise connected with the ancient religion of the state, is imported
from foreign countries, and may easily, at one blow, be eradicated,
without leaving the seeds of future innovation. But as this exception
would imply some apology for the ancient pagan persecutions, or for
the extirpation of Christianity in China and Japan, it ought surely,
on account of this detested consequence, to be rather buried in eternal
silence and oblivion.
Though these arguments appear entirely satisfactory, yet such is the
subtlety of human wit, that Gardiner and the other enemies to toleration
were not reduced to silence; and they still found topics on which
to maintain the controversy. The doctrine, said they, of liberty of
conscience, is founded on the most flagrant impiety, and supposes such
an indifference among all religions, such an obscurity in theological
doctrines, as to render the church and magistrate incapable of
distinguishing with certainty the dictates of Heaven from the mere
fictions of human imagination. If the Divinity reveals principles
to mankind, he will surely give a criterion by which they may be
ascertained; and a prince who knowingly allows these principles to be
perverted or adulterated, is infinitely more criminal than if he gave
permission for the vending of poison, under the shape of food, to all
his subjects. Persecution may, indeed, seem better calculated to make
hypocrites than converts; but experience teaches us, that the habits of
hypocrisy often turn into reality; and the children, at least, ignorant
of the dissimulation of their parents, may happily be educated in more
orthodox tenets. It is absurd, in opposition to considerations of such
unspeakable importance, to plead the temporal and frivolous interests
of civil society; and if matters be thoroughly examined, even that topic
will not appear so universally certain in favor of toleration as by some
it is represented. Where sects arise whose fundamental principle on all
sides is to execrate, and abhor, and damn, and extirpate each other,
what choice has the magistrate left but to take part, and by rendering
one sect entirely prevalent, restore, at least for a time, the public
tranquillity? The political body, being here sickly, must not be treated
as if it were in a state of sound health; and an affected neutrality in
the prince, or even a cool preference, may serve only to encourage the
hopes of all the sects, and keep alive their animosity. The Protestants,
far from tolerating the religion of their ancestors, regard it as an
impious and detestable idolatry; and during the late minority, when they
were entirely masters, they enacted very severe, though not capital,
punishments against all exercise of the Catholic worship, and
even against such as barely abstained from their profane rites and
sacraments. Nor are instances wanting of their endeavors to secure an
imagined orthodoxy by the most rigorous executions: Calvin has burned
Servetus at Geneva; Cranmer brought Arians and Anabaptists to the stake;
and if persecution of any kind be admitted, the most bloody and violent
will surely be allowed the most justifiable, as the most effectual.
Imprisonments, fines, confiscations, whippings, serve only to irritate
the sects, without disabling them from resistance: but the stake,
the wheel, and the gibbet, must soon terminate in the extirpation or
banishment of all the heretics inclined to give disturbance, and in the
entire silence and submission of the rest.
The arguments of Gardiner, being more agreeable to the cruel bigotry of
Mary and Philip, were better received; and though Pole pleaded, as
is affirmed,[*] the advice of the emperor, who recommended it to his
daughter-in-law not to exercise violence against the Protestants, and
desired her to consider his own example, who, after endeavoring through
his whole life to extirpate heresy, had in the end reaped nothing but
confusion and disappointment, the scheme of toleration was entirely
rejected. It was determined to let loose the laws in their full vigor
against the reformed religion; and England was soon filled with scenes
of horror, which have ever since rendered the Catholic religion the
object of general detestation and which prove, that no human depravity
can equal revenge and cruelty covered with the mantle of religion.
* Burnet, vol. ii. Heylin, p. 47. It is not likely, however,
that Charles gave any such advice; for he himself was, at
this very time, proceeding with great violence in
persecuting the reformed in Flanders. Bentivoglio, part i,
lib. i.
The persecutors began with Rogers, prebendary of St. Paul’s, a man
eminent in his party for virtue as well as for learning. Gardiner’s plan
was first to attack men of that character, whom, he hoped, terror
would bend to submission, and whose example, either of punishment or
recantation, would naturally have influence on the multitude: but he
found a perseverance and courage in Rogers, which it may seem strange
to find in human nature, and of which all ages and all sects do
nevertheless furnish many examples. Rogers, beside the care of his own
preservation, lay under other powerful temptations to compliance: he
had a wife whom he tenderly loved, and ten children; yet such was his
serenity after his condemnation, that the jailers, it is said, waked
him from a sound sleep when the hour of his execution approached. He had
desired to see his wife before he died; but Gardiner told him that he
was a priest, and could not possibly have a wife; thus joining insult to
cruelty. Rogers was burned in Smithfield.[*]
Hooper, bishop of Glocester, had been tried at the same time
with Rogers; but was sent to his own diocese to be executed. This
circumstance was contrived to strike the greater terror into his flock;
but it was a source of consolation to Hooper, who rejoiced in giving
testimony, by his death, to that doctrine which he had formerly preached
among them. When he was tied to the stake, a stool was set before him,
and the queen’s pardon laid upon it, which it was still in his power to
merit by a recantation; but he ordered it to be removed, and cheerfully
prepared himself for that dreadful punishment to which he was sentenced.
He suffered it in its full severity: the wind, which was violent, blew
the flame of the reeds from his body: the fagots were green, and did not
kindle easily: all his lower parts were consumed before his vitals were
attacked: one of his hands dropped off: with the other he continued to
beat his breast: he was heard to pray, and to exhort the people; till
his tongue, swollen with the violence of his agony, could no longer
permit him utterance. He was three quarters of an hour in torture, which
he bore with inflexible constancy.[**]
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 119. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 302.
** Fox, vol. iii. p. 145, etc. Burnet, vol. ii p. 302,
Heylin, p. 48, 49. Godwin, p. 349.
Sanders was burned at Coventry: a pardon was also offered him; but
he rejected it, and embraced the stake, saying, “Welcome the cross
of Christ; welcome everlasting life.” Taylor, parson of Hadley, was
punished by fire in that place, surrounded by his ancient friends and
parishioners. When tied to the stake, he rehearsed a psalm in English:
one of his guards struck him on the mouth, and bade him speak Latin:
another, in a rage, gave him a blow on the head with his halbert, which
happily put an end to his torments.
There was one Philpot, archdeacon of Winchester, inflamed with such zeal
for orthodoxy, that having been engaged in dispute with an Arian, he
spit in his adversary’s face, to show the great detestation which he
had entertained against that heresy. He afterwards wrote a treatise to
justify this unmannerly expression of zeal: he said, that he was led to
it in order to relieve the sorrow conceived from such horrid blasphemy,
and to signify how unworthy such a miscreant was of being admitted into
the society of any Christian.[*] Philpot was a Protestant; and falling
now into the hands of people as zealous as himself, but more powerful,
he was condemned to the flames, and suffered at Smithfield. It seems to
be almost a general rule, that in all religions, except the true, no
man will suffer martyrdom who would not also inflict it willingly on
all that differ from him. The same zeal for speculative opinions is the
cause of both.
The crime for which almost all the Protestants were condemned, was
their refusal to acknowledge the real presence. Gardiner, who had vainly
expected that a few examples would strike a terror into the reformers,
finding the work daily multiply upon him, devolved the invidious office
on others, chiefly on Bonner, a man of profligate manners, and of a
brutal character, who seemed to rejoice in the torments of the unhappy
sufferers.[**] He sometimes whipped the prisoners with his own hands,
till he was tired with the violence of the exercise: he tore out the
beard of a weaver who refused to relinquish his religion; and that he
might give him a specimen of burning, he held his hand to the candle
till the sinews and veins shrunk and burst.[***]
* Strype, vol iii. p. 261, and Coll. No. 58.
** Heylin, p. 47, 48.
*** Fox, vol. iii. p. 187.
It is needless to be particular in enumerating all the cruelties
practised in England during the course of three years that these
persecutions lasted: the savage barbarity on the one hand, and the
patient constancy on the other, are so similar in all those martyrdoms,
that the narrative, little agreeable in itself, would never be relieved
by any variety. Human nature appears not on any occasion so detestable,
and at the same time so absurd, as in these religious persecutions,
which sink men below infernal spirits in wickedness, and below the
beasts in folly. A few instances only may be worth preserving, in order,
if possible, to warn zealous bigots forever to avoid such odious and
such fruitless barbarity.
Ferrar, bishop of St. David’s, was burned in his own diocese and his
appeal to Cardinal Pole was not attended to.[*] Ridley, bishop of
London, and Latimer, formerly bishop of Worcester, two prelates
celebrated for learning and virtue, perished together in the same
flames at Oxford, and supported each other’s constancy by their mutual
exhortations. Latimer, when tied to the stake, called to his companion,
“Be of good cheer, brother; we shall this day kindle such a torch
in England, as, I trust in God, shall never be extinguished.” The
executioners had been so merciful (for that clemency may more naturally
be ascribed to them than to the religious zealots) as to tie bags of
gunpowder about these prelates, in order to put a speedy period to their
tortures: the explosion immediately killed Latimer, who was in extreme
old age; Ridley continued alive during some time in the midst of the
flames.[**]
One Hunter, a young man of nineteen, an apprentice, having been seduced
by a priest into a dispute, had unwarily denied the real presence.
Sensible of his danger, he immediately absconded; but Bonner, laying
hold of his father, threatened him with the greatest severities if he
did not produce the young man to stand his trial. Hunter, hearing of
the vexations to which his father was exposed, voluntarily surrendered
himself to Bonner, and was condemned to the flames by that barbarous
prelate.
Thomas Haukes, when conducted to the stake, agreed with his friends,
that, if he found the torture tolerable, he would make them a signal to
that purpose in the midst of the flames. His zeal for the cause in which
he suffered so supported him that he stretched out his arms, the signal
agreed on; and in that posture he expired.[***] This example, with many
others of like constancy, encouraged multitudes not only to suffer, but
even to court and aspire to martyrdom.
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 216.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 318. Heylin, p. 52.
*** Fox, vol. iii. p. 265.
The tender sex itself, as they have commonly greater propensity to
religion, produced many examples of the most inflexible courage in
supporting the profession of it against all the fury of the persecutors.
One execution in particular was attended with circumstances which, even
at that time, excited astonishment by reason of their unusual barbarity.
A woman in Guernsey, being near the time of her labor when brought to
the stake, was thrown into such agitation by the torture, that her belly
burst, and she was delivered in the midst of the flames. One of the
guards immediately snatched the infant from the fire, and attempted to
save it; but a magistrate who stood by ordered it to be thrown back:
being determined, he said, that nothing should survive which-sprang from
so obstinate and heretical a parent.[*]
The persons condemned to these punishments were not convicted of
teaching, or dogmatizing, contrary to the established religion: they
were seized merely on suspicion; and articles being offered them to
subscribe, they were immediately, upon their refusal, condemned to the
flames.[**] These instances of barbarity, so unusual in the nation,
excited horror; the constancy of the martyrs was the object of
admiration; and as men have a principle of equity engraven in their
minds, which even false religion is not able totally to obliterate, they
were shocked to see persons of probity, of honor, of pious dispositions,
exposed to punishments more severe than were inflicted on the greatest
ruffians for crimes subversive of civil society. To exterminate the
whole Protestant party was known to be impossible; and nothing
could appear more iniquitous, than to subject to torture the most
conscientious and courageous among them, and allow the cowards and
hypocrites to escape. Each martyrdom, therefore, was equivalent to
a hundred sermons against Popery; and men either avoided such horrid
spectacles, or returned from them full of a violent, though secret,
indignation against the persecutors. Repeated orders were sent from the
council to quicken the diligence of the magistrates in searching out
heretics; and in some places the gentry were constrained to countenance
by their presence those barbarous executions. These acts of violence
tended only to render the Spanish government daily more odious; and
Philip, sensible of the hatred which he incurred, endeavored to remove
the reproach from himself by a very gross artifice: he ordered his
confessor to deliver, in his presence, a sermon in favor of toleration;
a doctrine somewhat extraordinary in the mouth of a Spanish friar.[***]
But the court, finding that Bonner, however shameless and savage,
would not bear alone the whole infamy, soon threw off the mask; and
the unrelenting temper of the queen, as well as of the king, appeared
without control. A bold step was even taken towards introducing the
inquisition into England. As the bishops’ courts, though extremely
arbitrary, and not confined by any ordinary forms of law, appeared not
to be invested with sufficient power, a commission was appointed, by
authority of the queen’s prerogative, more effectually to extirpate
heresy.
* Fox, vol. iii. p. 747. Heylin, p. 57. Burnet, vol. ii. p.
337.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 306.
*** Heylin, p. 56.
Twenty-one persons were named; but any three were armed with the powers
of the whole. The commission runs in these terms: “That since many false
rumors were published among the subjects, and many heretical opinions
were also spread among them, the commissioners were to inquire into
those, either by presentments, by witnesses, or any other political way
they could devise, and to search after all heresies; the bringers in,
the sellers, the readers of all heretical books: they were to examine
and punish all misbehaviors or negligences in any church or chapel; and
to try all priests that did not preach the sacrament of the altar;
all persons that did not hear mass, or come to their parish church to
service, that would not go in processions, or did not take holy bread or
holy water; and if they found any that did obstinately persist in such
heresies, they were to put them into the hands of their ordinaries, to
be punished according to the spiritual laws; giving the commissioners
full power to proceed as their discretions and consciences should direct
them, and to use all such means as they would invent for the searching
of the premises; empowering them also to call before them such witnesses
as they pleased, and to force them to make oath of such things as might
discover what they sought after.”[*] Some civil powers were also given
the commissioners to punish vagabonds and quarrelsome persons.
To bring the methods of proceeding in England still nearer to the
practice of the inquisition, letters were written to Lord North and
others, enjoining them “to put to the torture such obstinate persons as
would not confess, and there to order them at their discretion.”[**]
* Burnet, vol. ii. Coll. 32.
** Burnet, vol. iii. p. 243.
Secret spies, also, and informers were employed, according to the
practice of that iniquitous tribunal. Instructions were given to the
justices of peace--that they should call secretly before them one or two
honest persons within their limits, or more, at their discretion, and
command them by oath, or otherwise, that they shall secretly learn and
search out such persons as shall evil behave themselves in church,
or idly, or shall despise openly by words the king’s or queen’s
proceedings, or go about to make any commotion, or tell any seditious
tales or news. And also that the same persons, so to be appointed,
shall declare to the same justices of peace the ill behavior of lewd
disordered persons, whether it shall be for using unlawful games, and
such other light behavior of such suspected persons; and that the
same information shall be given secretly to the justices; and the same
justices shall call such accused persons before them, and examine them,
without declaring by whom they were accused. And that the same justices
shall, upon their examination, punish the offenders according as their
offences shall appear, upon the accusement and examination, by their
discretion, either by open punishment or “by good abearing.”[*] In some
respects this tyrannical edict even exceeded the oppression of the
inquisition, by introducing into every part of government the same
iniquities which that tribunal practises for the extirpation of heresy
only, and which are in some measure necessary, wherever that end is
earnestly pursued.
But the court had devised a more expeditious and summary method of
supporting orthodoxy than even the inquisition itself. They issued
a proclamation against books of heresy treason, and sedition, and
declared, “that whosoever had any of these books, and did not presently
burn them, without reading them or showing them to any other person,
should be esteemed rebels, and without any further delay be executed by
martial law.”[**] From the state of the English government during that
period, it is not so much the illegality of these proceedings, as their
violence and their pernicious tendency, which ought to be the object of
our censure.
* Burnet, vol. iii. p. 246, 247.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 363. Heylin, p. 79.
We have thrown together almost all the proceedings against heretics,
though carried on during a course of three years, that we may be
obliged as little as possible to return to such shocking violences
and barbarities. It is computed that in that time two hundred and
seventy-seven persons were brought to the stake, besides those who were
punished by imprisonment, fines, and confiscations. Among those who
suffered by fire were five bishops, twenty-one clergymen, eight lay
gentlemen, eighty-four tradesmen, one hundred husbandmen, servants, and
laborers, fifty-five women, and four children. This persevering cruelty
appears astonishing; yet is it much inferior to what has been practised
in other countries. A great author[*] computes that, in the Netherlands
alone, from the time that the edict of Charles V. was promulgated
against the reformers, there had been fifty thousand persons hanged,
beheaded, buried alive, or burnt, on account of religion; and that in
France the number had also been considerable. Yet in both countries, as
the same author subjoins, the progress of the new opinions instead of
being checked, was rather forwarded by these persecutions.
The burning of heretics was a very natural method of reconciling the
kingdom to the Romish communion; and little solicitation was requisite
to engage the pope to receive the strayed flock, from which he reaped
such considerable profit; yet was there a solemn embassy sent to Rome,
consisting of Sir Anthony Brown, created Viscount Montacute, the bishop
of Ely, and Sir Edward Carne, in order to carry the submissions of
England, and beg to be readmitted into the bosom of the Catholic
church.[**] Paul IV., after a short interval, now filled the papal
chair; the most haughty pontiff that during several ages had been
elevated to that dignity. He was offended that Mary still retained among
her titles that of queen of Ireland; and he affirmed that it belonged to
him alone, as he saw cause, either to erect new kingdoms or abolish the
old; but to avoid all dispute with the new converts, he thought proper
to erect Ireland into a kingdom, and he then admitted the title, as if
it had been assumed from his concession. This was a usual artifice of
the popes, to give allowance to what they could not prevent,[***] and
afterwards pretend that princes, while they exercised their own powers,
were only acting by authority from the papacy. And though Paul had at
first intended to oblige Mary formally to recede from this title before
he would bestow it upon her, he found it prudent to proceed in a less
haughty manner.[****]
* Father Paul, lib. v.
** Heylin, p. 45.
*** Heylin, p. 45. Father Paul, lib, v.
**** Father Paul, lib. v.
Another point in discussion between the pope and the English ambassadors
was not so easily terminated. Paul insisted that the property and
possessions of the church should be restored to the uttermost farthing;
that whatever belonged to God could never, by any law, be converted to
profane uses; and every person who detained such possessions was in a
state of eternal damnation; that he would willingly, in consideration
of the humble submissions of the English, make them a present of these
ecclesiastical revenues; but such a concession exceeded his power, and
the people might be certain that so great a profanation of holy things
would be a perpetual anathema upon them, and would blast all their
future felicity; that if they would truly show their filial piety, they
must restore all the privileges and emoluments of the Romish church, and
Peter’s pence among the rest; nor could they expect that this apostle
would open to them the gates of paradise, while they detained from him
his patrimony on earth.[*] These earnest remonstrances being transmitted
to England, though they had little influence on the nation, operated
powerfully on the queen, who was determined, in order to ease her
conscience, to restore all the church lands which were still in the
possession of the crown; and the more to display her zeal, she erected
anew some convents and monasteries, notwithstanding the low condition
of the exchequer.[**] When this measure was debated in council, some
members objected, that if such a considerable part of the revenue were
dismembered, the dignity of the crown would fall to decay; but the
queen replied, that she preferred the salvation of her soul to ten such
kingdoms as England.[***] These imprudent measures would not probably
have taken place so easily, had it not been for the death of Gardiner,
which happened about this time; the great seal was given to Heathe,
archbishop of York, that an ecclesiastic might still be possessed of
that high office, and be better enabled by his authority to forward the
persecutions against the reformed.
These persecutions were now become extremely odious to the nation; and
the effects of the public discontent appeared in the new parliament,
summoned to meet at Westminster.[****] A bill[v] was passed restoring to
the church the tenths and first-fruits, and all the impropriations which
remained in the hands of the crown; but though this matter directly
concerned none but the queen herself, great opposition was made to the
bill in the house of commons.
* Father Paul, lib. v. Heylin, p. 45.
** Dépêches de Noailles, vol. iv. p. 312.
*** Heylin, p. 53, 65. Holingshed, p. 1127. Speed, p. 826.
**** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 322.
v 2 and 3. Phil, and Mar. cap. 4.
An application being made for a subsidy during two years, and for two
fifteenths, the latter was refused by the commons; and many members
said, that while the crown was thus despoiling itself of its revenue, it
was in vain to bestow riches upon it. The parliament rejected a bill for
obliging the exiles to return under certain penalties, and another for
incapacitating such as were remiss in the prosecution of heresy from
being justices of peace. The queen, finding the intractable humor of the
commons, thought proper to dissolve the parliament.
The spirit of opposition which began to prevail in parliament was the
more likely to be vexatious to Mary, as she was otherwise in very bad
humor on account of her husband’s absence, who, tired of her importunate
love and jealousy, and finding his authority extremely limited in
England, had laid hold of the first opportunity to leave her, and had
gone over last summer to the emperor in Flanders. The indifference
and neglect of Philip, added to the disappointment in her imagined
pregnancy, threw her into deep melancholy; and she gave vent to her
spleen by daily enforcing the persecutions against the Protestants, and
even by expressions of rage against all her subjects; by whom she
knew herself to be hated, and whose opposition, in refusing an entire
compliance with Philip was the cause, she believed, why he had alienated
his affections from her, and afforded her so little of his company.[*]
* Dépêches de Noailles, vol. v. p. 370, 562.
The less return her love met with, the more it increased; and she passed
most of her time in solitude, where she gave vent to her passion, either
in tears, or in writing fond epistles to Philip, who seldom returned
her any answer, and scarcely deigned to pretend any sentiment of love or
even of gratitude towards her. The chief part of government to which
she attended, was the extorting of money from her people, in order to
satisfy his demands; and as the parliament had granted her but a scanty
supply, she had recourse to expedients very violent and irregular. She
levied a loan of sixty thousand pounds upon a thousand persons, of whose
compliance, either on account of their riches or their affections to
her, she held herself best assured: but that sum not sufficing, she
exacted a general loan on every one who possessed twenty pounds a year.
This imposition lay heavy on the gentry, who were obliged, many of
them, to retrench their expenses and dismiss their servants, in order
to enable them to comply with her demands: and as these servants,
accustomed to idleness, and having no means of subsistence, commonly
betook themselves to theft and robbery, the queen published a
proclamation, by which she obliged their former masters to take them
back to their service. She levied sixty thousand marks on seven thousand
yeomen who had not contributed to the former loan; and she exacted
thirty-six thousand pounds more from the merchants. In order to engage
some Londoners to comply more willingly with her multiplied extortions,
she passed an edict prohibiting for four months the exporting of
any English cloths or kerseys to the Netherlands; an expedient which
procured a good market for such as had already sent any quantity of
cloth thither. Her rapaciousness engaged her to give endless disturbance
and interruption to commerce. The English company settled in Antwerp
having refused her a loan of forty thousand pounds, she dissembled
her resentment till she found that they had bought and shipped great
quantities of cloth for Antwerp fair, which was approaching: she then
laid an embargo on the ships, and obliged the merchants to grant her a
loan of the forty thousand pounds at first demanded, to engage for the
payment of twenty thousand pounds more at a limited time, and to submit
to an arbitrary imposition of twenty shillings on each piece. Some time
after, she was informed that the Italian merchants had shipped above
forty thousand pieces of cloth for the Levant, for which they were to
pay her a crown a piece, the usual imposition: she struck a bargain
with the merchant adventurers in London; prohibited the foreigners from
making any exportation; and received from the English merchants, in
consideration of this iniquity, the sum of fifty thousand pounds, and
an imposition of four crowns on each piece of cloth which they should
export. She attempted to borrow great sums abroad; but her credit was
so low, that though she offered fourteen per cent to the city of Antwerp
for a loan of thirty thousand pounds, she could not obtain it till she
compelled the city of London to be surety for her.[*] All these violent
expedients were employed while she herself was in profound peace with
all the world, and had visibly no occasion for money but to supply the
demands of a husband who gave attention only to his own convenience, and
showed himself entirely indifferent about her interests.
* Godwin, p. 359. Cowper’s Chronicle. Burnet, vol. ii. p.
359. Carte, p. 330, 333, 337, 341. Strype’s Memor vol. iii.
p. 428, 558. Annals vol. i. p. 15.
Philip was now become master of all the wealth of the new world, and
of the richest and most extensive dominions in Europe, by the voluntary
resignation of the emperor Charles V.; who, though still in the vigor of
his age, had taken a disgust to the world, and was determined to seek,
in the tranquillity of retreat, for that happiness which he had in vain
pursued amidst the tumults of war and the restless projects of ambition.
He summoned the states of the Low Countries and seating himself on the
throne for the last time, explained to his subjects the reasons of his
resignation, absolved them from all oaths of allegiance, and, devolving
his authority on Philip, told him, that his paternal tenderness made him
weep when he reflected on the burden which he imposed upon him.[*] He
inculcated on him the great and only duty of a prince, the study of his
people’s happiness; and represented how much preferable it was to
govern by affection, rather than by fear, the nations subjected to
his dominion. The cool reflections of age now discovered to him the
emptiness of his former pursuits; and he found that the vain schemes
of extending his empire had been the source of endless opposition and
disappointment, and kept himself, his neighbors, and his subjects, in
perpetual inquietude, and had frustrated the sole end of government,
the felicity of the nations committed to his care; an object which meets
with less opposition, and which, if steadily pursued, can alone convey a
lasting and solid satisfaction.
* Thuan. lib. xvi. c. 20.
{1556.} A few months after, he resigned to Philip his other dominions;
and embarking on board a fleet, sailed to Spain, and took his journey to
St. Just, a monastery in Estremadura, which, being situated in a happy
climate, and amidst the greatest beauties of nature, he had chosen for
the place of his retreat. When he arrived at Burgos, he found, by the
thinness of his court, and the negligent attendance of the Spanish
grandees, that he was no longer emperor; and though this observation
might convince him still more of the vanity of the world, and make him
more heartily despise what he had renounced, he sighed to find that all
former adulation and obeisance had been paid to his fortune, not to his
person. With better reason was he struck with the ingratitude of his son
Philip, who obliged him to wait a long time for the payment of the small
pension which he had reserved, and this disappointment in his domestic
enjoyments gave him a sensible concern. He pursued, however, his
resolution with inflexible constancy; and shutting himself up in his
retreat, he exerted such self-command, that he restrained even his
curiosity from any inquiry concerning the transactions of the world
which he had entirely abandoned. The fencing against the pains and
infirmities under which he labored occupied a great part of his time;
and during the intervals he employed his leisure, either in examining
the controversies of theology, with which his age had been so much
agitated, and which he had hitherto considered only in a political
light, or in imitating the works of renowned artists, particularly in
mechanics, of which he had always been a great admirer and encourager.
He is said to have here discovered a propensity to the new doctrines,
and to have frequently dropped hints of this unexpected alteration in
his sentiments. Having amused himself with the construction of clocks
and watches, he thence remarked, how impracticable the object was in
which he had so much employed himself during his grandeur; and how
impossible that he, who never could frame two machines that would go
exactly alike, could ever be able to make all mankind concur in the same
belief and opinion. He survived his retreat two years.
The emperor Charles had very early in the beginning of his reign found
the difficulty of governing such distant dominions; and he had made
his brother Ferdinand be elected king of the Romans, with a view to his
inheriting the imperial dignity, as well as his German dominions. But
having afterwards enlarged his schemes, and formed plans of aggrandizing
his family, he regretted that he must dismember such considerable states
and he endeavored to engage Ferdinand, by the most tempting offers,
and most earnest solicitations, to yield up his pretensions in favor
of Philip. Finding his attempts fruitless, he had resigned the imperial
crown with his other dignities; and Ferdinand, according to common form,
applied to the pope for his coronation. The arrogant pontiff refused
the demand; and pretended that, though on the death of an emperor he was
obliged to crown the prince elected, yet, in the case of a resignation,
the right devolved to the holy see, and it belonged to the pope alone to
appoint an emperor. The conduct of Paul was in every thing conformable
to these lofty pretensions. He thundered always in the ears of all
ambassadors, that he stood in no need of the assistance of any prince;
that he was above all potentates on the earth; that he would not
accustom monarchs to pretend to a familiarity or equality with him; that
it belonged to him to alter and regulate kingdoms; that he was successor
of those who had deposed kings and emperors; and that, rather than
submit to anything below his dignity, he would set fire to the four
corners of the world. He went so far as, at table, in the presence of
many persons, and even openly, in a public consistory, to say, that
he would not admit any kings for his companions; they were all his
subjects, and he would hold them under these feet: so saying, he
stamped on the ground with his old and infirm limbs: for he was now past
fourscore years of age.[*]
* Father Paul, lib. v.
The world could not forbear making a comparison between Charles V.,
a prince who, though educated amidst wars and intrigues of state, had
prevented the decline of age, and had descended from the throne, in
order to set apart an interval for thought and reflection; and a priest
who, in the extremity of old age, exulted in his dominion, and from
restless ambition and revenge was throwing all nations into combustion.
Paul had entertained the most inveterate animosity against the house
of Austria; and though a truce of five years had been concluded between
France and Spain, he excited Henry by his solicitations to break it, and
promised to assist him in recovering Naples, and the dominions to which
he laid claim in Italy; a project which had ever proved hurtful to the
predecessors of that monarch. He himself engaged in hostilities with
the duke of Alva, viceroy of Naples; and Guise being sent with forces
to support him, the renewal of war between the two crowns seemed almost
inevitable. Philip, though less warlike than his father, was no less
ambitious; and he trusted that, by the intrigues of the cabinet,
where, he believed, his caution, and secrecy, and prudence gave him the
superiority, he should be able to subdue all his enemies, and extend his
authority and dominion. For this reason, as well as from the desire of
settling his new empire, he wished to maintain peace with France; but
when he found that, without sacrificing his honor, it was impossible for
him to overlook the hostile attempts of Henry, he prepared for war with
great industry. In order to give himself the more advantage, he was
desirous of embarking England in the quarrel; and though the queen was
of herself extremely averse to that measure, he hoped that the devoted
fondness which, notwithstanding repeated instances of his indifference,
she still bore to him, would effectually second his applications. Had
the matter indeed depended solely on her, she was incapable of resisting
her husband’s commands; but she had little weight with her council,
still less with her people; and her government, which was every day
becoming more odious, seemed unable to maintain itself, even during the
most profound tranquillity, much more if a war were kindled with France,
and, what seemed an inevitable consequence, with Scotland, supported by
that powerful kingdom.
An act of barbarity was this year exercised in England, which, added to
many other instances of the same kind, tended to render the government
extremely unpopular. Cranmer had long been detained prisoner; but the
queen now determined to bring him to punishment; and in order the more
fully to satiate her vengeance, she resolved to punish him for heresy,
rather than for treason. He was cited by the pope to stand his trial at
Rome; and though he was known to be kept in close custody at Oxford, he
was, upon his not appearing, condemned as contumacious. Bonner, bishop
of London, and Thirleby of Ely, were sent to degrade him; and the former
executed the melancholy ceremony with all the joy and exultation which
suited his savage nature.[*] The implacable spirit of the queen, not
satisfied with the eternal damnation of Cranmer, which she believed
inevitable, and with the execution of that dreadful sentence to which he
was condemned, prompted her also to seek the ruin of his honor and the
infamy of his name. Persons were employed to attack him, not in the
way of disputation, against which he was sufficiently armed, but by
flattery, insinuation, and address, by representing the dignities to
which his character still entitled him, if he would merit them by a
recantation; by giving hopes of long enjoying those powerful friends,
whom his beneficent disposition had attached to him during the course of
his prosperity.[*]
* Mem. of Cranm. p. 375.
** Heylin, p. 55. Mem. p. 383.
Overcome by the fond love of life, terrified by the prospect of those
tortures which awaited him, he allowed, in an unguarded hour, the
sentiments of nature to prevail over his resolution, and he agreed to
subscribe the doctrines of the papal supremacy and of the real presence.
The court, equally perfidious and cruel, were determined that this
recantation should avail him nothing; and they sent orders that he
should be required to acknowledge his errors in church before the whole
people, and that he should thence be immediately carried to execution.
Cranmer, whether that he had received a secret intimation of their
design, or had repented of his weakness, surprised the audience by
a contrary declaration. He said, that he was well apprised of the
obedience which he owed to his sovereign and the laws; but this duly
extended no further than to submit patiently to their commands, and to
bear without resistance whatever hardships they should impose upon him:
that a superior duty, the duty which he owed to his Maker, obliged
him to speak truth on all occasions, and not to relinquish, by a base
denial, the holy doctrine which the Supreme Being had revealed to
mankind: that there was one miscarriage in his life, of which, above
all others, he severely repented; the insincere declaration of faith, to
which he had the weakness to consent, and which the fear of death alone
had extorted from him: that he took this opportunity of atoning for his
error, by a sincere and open recantation; and was willing to seal with
his blood that doctrine which he firmly believed to be communicated from
Heaven; and that as his hand had erred by betraying his heart, it should
first be punished by a severe but just doom, and should first pay the
forfeit of its offences. He was thence led to the stake amidst the
insults of the Catholics; and having now summoned up all the force of
his mind, he bore their scorn, as well as the torture of his punishment,
with singular fortitude. He stretched out his hand, and without
betraying, either by his countenance or motions, the least sign of
weakness, or even of feeling, he held it in the flames till it was
entirely consumed. His thoughts seemed wholly occupied with reflections
on his former fault; and he called aloud several times, “This hand has
offended.” Satisfied with that atonement, he then discovered a serenity
in his countenance, and when the fire attacked his body, he seemed to be
quite insensible of his outward sufferings, and by the force of hope and
resolution to have collected his mind altogether within itself, and to
repel the fury of the flames. It is pretended, that after his body was
consumed, his heart was found entire and untouched amidst the ashes; an
event which, as it was the emblem of his constancy, was fondly believed
by the zealous Protestants.
He was undoubtedly a man of merit; possessed of learning and capacity,
and adorned with candor, sincerity, and beneficence, and all those
virtues which were fitted to render him useful and amiable in society.
His moral qualities procured him universal respect; and the courage of
his martyrdom, though he fell short of the rigid inflexibility observed
in many, made him the hero of the Protestant party.[*]
After Cranmer’s death, Cardinal Pole, who had now taken priest’s orders,
was installed in the see of Canterbury; and was thus, by this office, as
well as by his commission of legate, placed at the head of the church
of England. But though he was averse to all sanguinary methods of
converting heretics, and deemed the reformation of the clergy the more
effectual, as the more laudable expedient for that purpose,[**] he found
his authority too weak to oppose the barbarous and bigoted disposition
of the queen and of her counsellors. He himself, he knew, had been
suspected of Lutheranism; and as Paul, the reigning pope, was a furious
persecutor, and his personal enemy, he was prompted, by the modesty of
his disposition, to reserve his credit for other occasions, in which he
had a greater probability of success.[***]
* Burnet, vol. ii. p. 331, 332, etc. Godwin, p. 352.
** Burnet, vol. ii. p. 324, 325.
*** Heylin, p. 68, 69. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 327
{1557.} The great object of the queen was to engage the nation in the
war which was kindled between France and Spain; and Cardinal Pole,
with many other counsellors, openly and zealously opposed this measure.
Besides insisting on the marriage articles, which provided against such
an attempt, they represented the violence of the domestic factions in
England, and the disordered state of the finances; and they foreboded,
that the tendency of all these measures was to reduce the kingdom to
a total dependence on Spanish counsels. Philip had come to London, in
order to support his partisans; and he told the queen that, if he were
not gratified in so reasonable a request, he never more would set foot
in England. This declaration extremely heightened her zeal for promoting
his interests, and overcoming the inflexibility of her council. After
employing other menaces of a more violent nature, she threatened to
dismiss all of them, and to appoint counsellors more obsequious; yet
could she not procure a vote for declaring war with France. At length,
one Stafford, and some other conspirators, were detected in a design of
surprising Scarborough;[*] and a confession being extorted from them,
that they had been encouraged by Henry in the attempt, the queen’s
importunity prevailed; and it was determined to make this act of
hostility, with others of a like secret and doubtful nature, the
ground of the quarrel. War was accordingly declared against France; and
preparations were every where made for attacking that kingdom.
The revenue of England at that time little exceeded three hundred
thousand pounds.[**] Any considerable supplies could scarcely be
expected from parliament, considering the present disposition of the
nation; and as the war would sensibly diminish that branch arising from
the customs, the finances, it was foreseen, would fall short even of the
ordinary charges of government, and must still more prove unequal to
the expenses of war. But though the queen owed great arrears to all
her servants, besides the loans extorted from her subjects, these
considerations had no influence with her; and in order to support her
warlike preparations, she continued to levy money in the same arbitrary
and violent manner which she had formerly practised. She obliged the
city of London to supply her with sixty thousand pounds on her husband’s
entry; she levied before the legal time the second year’s subsidy voted
by parliament; she issued anew many privy seals, by which she procured
loans from her people; and having equipped a fleet, which she could not
victual by reason of the dearness of provisions, she seized all the corn
she could find in Suffolk and Norfolk, without paying any price to the
owners. By all these expedients, assisted by the power of pressing,
she levied an army of ten thousand men, which she sent over to the Low
Countries, under the command of the earl of Pembroke. Meanwhile, in
order to prevent any disturbance at home, many of the most considerable
gentry were thrown into the Tower; and lest they should be known, the
Spanish practice was followed: they either were carried thither in the
night-time, or were hoodwinked and muffled by the guards who conducted
them.[***]
* Heylin, p. 72. Burnet, vol. ii. p. 351. Sir James Melvil’s
Memoirs.
** Rossi, Successi d’Inghilterra.
*** Strype’s Eccles. Memorials, vol. iii. 377
The king of Spain had assembled an army, which, after the junction
of the English, amounted to above sixty thousand men, conducted by
Philibert, duke of Savoy, one of the greatest captains of the age. The
constable Montmorency, who commanded the French army, had not half the
number to oppose to him. The duke of Savoy, after menacing Mariembourgh
and Rocroy, suddenly sat down before St. Quintin: and as the place was
weak, and ill provided with a garrison, he expected in a few days to
become master of it. But Admiral Coligny, governor of the province,
thinking his honor interested to save so important a fortress, threw
himself into St. Quintin, with some troops of French and Scottish
gensdarmery; and by his exhortations and example animated the
soldiers to a vigorous defence. He despatched a messenger to his uncle
Montmorency, desiring a supply of men; and the constable approached the
place with his whole army, in order to facilitate the entry of these
succors. But the duke of Savoy, falling on the reënforcement, did such
execution upon them, that not above five hundred got into the place.
He next made an attack on the French army, and put them to total
rout, killing four thousand men, and dispersing the remainder. In this
unfortunate action many of the chief nobility of France were either
slain or taken prisoners: among the latter was the old constable
himself, who, fighting valiantly, and resolute to die rather than
survive his defeat, was surrounded by the enemy, and thus fell
alive into their hands. The whole kingdom of France was thrown into
consternation: Paris was attempted to be fortified in a hurry: and had
the Spaniards presently marched thither, it could not have failed to
fall into their hands. But Philip was of a cautious temper; and he
determined first to take St. Quintin, in order to secure a communication
with his own dominions. A very little time, it was expected, would
finish this enterprise; but the bravery of Coligny still prolonged the
siege seventeen days, which proved the safety of France. Some troops
were levied and assembled. Couriers were sent to recall the duke of
Guise and his army from Italy: and the French, having recovered from
their first panic, put themselves in a posture of defence. Philip, after
taking Ham and Catelet, found the season so far advanced, that he could
attempt no other enterprise: he broke up his camp, and retired to winter
quarters.
But the vigilant activity of Guise, not satisfied with securing the
frontiers, prompted him, in the depth of winter, to plan an enterprise
which France, during her greatest successes, had always regarded as
impracticable, and had never thought of undertaking. Calais was in
that age deemed an impregnable fortress; and as it was known to be the
favorite of the English nation, by whom it could easily be succored, the
recovery of that place by France was considered as totally desperate.
But Coligny had remarked, that as the town of Calais was surrounded with
marshes, which during the winter were impassable, except over a dike
guarded by two castles, St. Agatha and Newnam Bridge, the English were
of late accustomed, on account of the lowness of their finances, to
dismiss a great part of the garrison at the end of autumn, and to recall
them in the spring, at which time alone they judged their attendance
necessary. On this circumstance he had founded the design of making a
sudden attack on Calais; he had caused the place to be secretly viewed
by some engineers; and a plan of the whole enterprise being found among
his papers, it served, though he himself was made prisoner on the taking
of St. Quintin, to suggest the project of that undertaking, and to
direct the measures of the duke of Guise.
Several bodies of troops defiled towards the frontiers on various
pretences; and the whole, being suddenly assembled, formed an army, with
which Guise made an unexpected march towards Calais. At the same time,
a great number of French ships, being ordered into the Channel, under
color of cruising on the English, composed a fleet which made an attack
by sea on the fortifications. The French assaulted St. Agatha with three
thousand arquebusiers; and the garrison, though they made a vigorous
defence, were soon obliged to abandon the place, and retreat to Newnam
Bridge. The siege of this latter place was immediately undertaken,
and at the same time the fleet battered the risbank, which guarded
the entrance of the harbor; and both these castles seemed exposed to
imminent danger. The governor, Lord Wentworth, was a brave officer; but
finding that the greater part of his weak garrison was enclosed in the
castle of Newnam Bridge and the risbank, he ordered them to capitulate,
and to join him in Calais, which, without their assistance, he was
utterly unable to defend. The garrison of Newnam Bridge was so happy as
to effect this purpose; but that of the risbank could not obtain such
favorable conditions, and were obliged to surrender at discretion.
{1558.} The duke of Guise, now holding Calais blockaded by sea and land,
thought himself secure of succeeding in his enterprise; but in order to
prevent all accident, be delayed not a moment the attack of the place.
He planted his batteries against the castle, where he made a large
breach; and having ordered Andelot, Coligny’s brother, to drain the
fossée, he commanded an assault, which succeeded; and the French made a
lodgement in the castle. On the night following, Wentworth attempted to
recover this post; but having lost two hundred men in a furious attack
which he made upon it,[*] he found his garrison so weak, that he was
obliged to capitulate. Ham and Guisnes fell soon after; and thus the
duke of Guise, in eight days, during the depth of winter, made himself
master of this strong fortress, that had cost Edward III. a siege of
eleven months, at the head of a numerous army, which had that very year
been victorious in the battle of Crecy. The English had held it above
two hundred years; and as it gave them an easy entrance into France, it
was regarded as the most important possession belonging to the crown.
The joy of the French was extreme, as well as the glory acquired by
Guise; who, at the time when all Europe imagined France to be sunk
by the unfortunate battle of St. Quintin, had, in opposition to the
English, and their allies the Spaniards, acquired possession of a place
which no former king of France, even during the distractions of the
civil wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, had ever ventured
to attempt. The English, on the other hand, bereaved of this valuable
fortress, murmured loudly against the improvidence of the queen and her
council; who, after engaging in a fruitless war for the sake of foreign
interests, had thus exposed the nation to so severe a disgrace. A
treasury exhausted by expenses, and burdened with debts; a people
divided and dejected; a sovereign negligent of her people’s welfare;
were circumstances which, notwithstanding the fair offers and promises
of Philip, gave them small hopes of recovering Calais. And as the Scots,
instigated by French counsels, began to move on the borders, they were
now necessitated rather to look to their defence at home, than to think
of foreign conquests.
* Thuan. lib. xx. cap. 2.
After the peace which, in consequence of King Edward’s treaty with
Henry, took place between Scotland and England, the queen dowager, on
pretence of visiting her daughter and her relations, made a journey to
France; and she carried along with her the earls of Huntley, Sutherland,
Marischal, and many of the principal nobility. Her secret design was,
to take measures for engaging the earl of Arran to resign to her the
government of the kingdom; and as her brothers, the duke of Guise, the
cardinal of Lorraine, and the duke of Aumale, had uncontrolled influence
in the court of France, she easily persuaded Henry, and by his authority
the Scottish nobles, to enter into her measures. Having also gained
Carnegy of Kinnaird, Panter, bishop of Ross, and Gavin Hamilton,
commendator of Kilwinning, three creatures of the governor’s, she
persuaded him, by their means, to consent to this resignation;[*] and
when every thing was thus prepared for her purpose, she took a journey
to Scotland, and passed through England in her way thither. Edward
received her with great respect and civility; though he could not
forbear attempting to renew the old treaty for his marriage with
her daughter; a marriage, he said, so happily calculated for the
tranquillity, interest, and security of both kingdoms, and the only
means of insuring a durable peace between them. For his part, he added,
he never could entertain a cordial amity for any other husband whom she
should choose; nor was it easy for him to forgive a man who, at the same
time that he disappointed so natural an alliance, had bereaved him of
a bride to whom his affections, from his earliest infancy, had been
entirely engaged. The queen dowager eluded these applications, by
telling him, that if any measures had been taken disagreeable to him,
they were entirely owing to the imprudence of the duke of Somerset, who,
instead of employing courtesy, caresses, and gentle offices, the
proper means of gaining a young princess, had had recourse to arms
and violence, and had constrained the Scottish nobility to send their
sovereign into France, in order to interest that kingdom in protecting
their liberty and independence.[**]
* Buchanan, lib. xiv. Keith, p. 56. Spotswood, p. 92.
** Keith, p. 59.
When the queen dowager arrived in Scotland, she found the governor very
unwilling to fulfil his engagements; and it was not till after many
delays that he could be persuaded to resign his authority. But finding
that the majority of the young princess was approaching, and that the
queen dowager had gained the affections of all the principal nobility,
he thought it more prudent to submit; and having stipulated that he
should be declared next heir to the crown, and should be freed from
giving any account of his past administration, he placed her in
possession of the power, and she thenceforth assumed the name of
regent.[*] It was a usual saying of this princess, that, provided she
could render her friends happy, and could insure to herself a good
reputation, she was entirely indifferent what befell her; and though
this sentiment is greatly censured by the zealous reformers,[**] as
being founded wholly on secular motives, it discovers a mind well
calculated for the government of kingdoms. D’Oisel, a Frenchman,
celebrated for capacity, had attended her as ambassador from Henry, but
in reality to assist her with his counsels in so delicate an undertaking
as the administration of Scotland; and this man had formed a scheme
for laying a general tax on the kingdom, in order to support a standing
military force, which might at once repel the inroads of foreign
enemies, and check the turbulence of the Scottish nobles. But though
some of the courtiers were gained over to this project, it gave great
and general discontent to the nation; and the queen regent, after
ingenuously confessing that it would prove pernicious to the kingdom,
had the prudence to desist from it, and to trust entirely for her
security to the good will and affections of her subjects.[***]
This laudable purpose seemed to be the chief object of her
administration; yet was she sometimes drawn from it by her connections
with France, and by the influence which her brothers had acquired
over her. When Mary commenced hostilities against that kingdom, Henry
required the queen regent to take part in the quarrel; and she summoned
a convention of states at Newbottle, and requested them to concur in a
declaration of war against England. The Scottish nobles, who were become
as jealous of French as the English were of Spanish influence, refused
their assent; and the queen was obliged to have recourse to stratagem
in order to effect her purpose. She ordered D’Oisel to begin some
fortifications at Eyemouth, a place which had been dismantled by the
last treaty with Edward; and when the garrison of Berwick, as she
foresaw, made an inroad to prevent the undertaking, she effectually
employed this pretence to inflame the Scottish nation, and to engage
them in hostilities against England.[****]
* 12th April, 1554.
** Knox, p. 89.
*** Keith, p. 70. Buchanan, lib. xvi.
**** Buchanan, lib. xvi. Thuan. lib. xix. c. 7.
The enterprises however, of the Scots proceeded no farther than some
inroads on the borders: when D’Oisel of himself conducted artillery
and troops to besiege the Castle of Werke, he was recalled, and sharply
rebuked by the council.[*]
* Knox. p. 93.
In order to connect Scotland more closely with France, and to increase
the influence of the latter kingdom, it was thought proper by Henry to
celebrate the marriage between the young queen and the dauphin; and
a deputation was sent by the Scottish parliament to assist at the
ceremony, and to settle the terms of the contract.
The close alliance between France and Scotland threatened very nearly
the repose and security of Mary; and it was foreseen, that though the
factions and disorders which might naturally be expected in the Scottish
government during the absence of the sovereign, would make its power
less formidable, that kingdom would at least afford to the French a
means of invading England. The queen, therefore, found it necessary
to summon a parliament, and to demand of them some supplies to her
exhausted exchequer. As such an emergency usually gives great advantage
to the people; and as the parliaments during this reign had shown that,
where the liberty and independency of the kingdom were menaced with
imminent danger, they were not entirely overawed by the court; we shall
naturally expect that the late arbitrary methods of extorting money
should at least be censured, and perhaps some remedy be for the
future provided against them. The commons, however, without making any
reflections on the past, voted, besides a fifteenth, a subsidy of four
shillings in the pound on land, and two shillings and eightpence on
goods. The clergy granted eight shillings in the pound, payable, as was
also the subsidy of the laity, in four years by equal portions.
The parliament also passed an act, confirming all the sales and grants
of crown lands, which either were already made by the queen, or should
be made during the seven ensuing years. It was easy to foresee that, in
Mary’s present disposition and situation, this power would be followed
by a great alienation of the royal demesnes; and nothing could be more
contrary to the principles of good government, than to establish a
prince with very extensive authority, yet permit him to be reduced
to beggary. This act met with opposition in the house of commons. One
Copely expressed his fears lest the queen, under color of the power
there granted, might alter the succession, and alienate the crown from
the lawful heir; but his words were thought “irreverent” to her majesty:
he was committed to the custody of the serjeant at arms, and though he
expressed sorrow for his offence, he was not released till the queen was
applied to for his pardon.
The English nation, during this whole reign, were under great
apprehensions with regard not only to the succession, but the life of
the lady Elizabeth. The violent hatred which the queen bore to her broke
out on every occasion; and it required all the authority of Philip, as
well as her own great prudence, to prevent the fatal effects of it. The
princess retired into the country, and knowing that she was surrounded
with spies, she passed her time wholly in reading and study,
intermeddled in no business, and saw very little company. While she
remained in this situation, which for the present was melancholy, but
which prepared her mind for those great actions by which her life was
afterwards so much distinguished, proposals of marriage were made to her
by the Swedish Ambassador, in his master’s name. As her first question
was, whether the queen had been informed of these proposals, the
ambassador told her, that his master thought, as he was a gentleman, it
was his duty first to make his addresses to herself, and having obtained
her consent, he would next, as a king, apply to her sister. But the
princess would allow him to proceed no further; and the queen, after
thanking her for this instance of duty, desired to know how she stood
affected to the Swedish proposals. Elizabeth, though exposed to many
present dangers and mortifications, had the magnanimity to reserve
herself for better fortune; and she covered her refusal with professions
of a passionate attachment to a single life, which, she said, she
infinitely preferred before any other.[*] The princess showed like
prudence in concealing her sentiments of religion, in complying with the
present modes of worship, and in eluding all questions with regard to
that delicate subject.[**]
* Burnet, vol. ii. Coll. No. 37.
** The common net at that time, says Sir Richard Baker, for
catching of Protestants, was the real presence; and this net
was used to catch the lady Elizabeth; for being asked, one
time, what she thought of the words of Christ. “This is my
body,” whether she thought it the true body of Christ that
was in the sacrament, it is said that, after some pausing,
she thus answered:--
“Christ was the word that spake it;
He took the bread and brake it;
And what the word did make it,
That I believe, and take it.”
Which, though it may seem but a slight expression, yet hath
it more solidness than at first sight appears; at least, it
served her turn, at that time, to escape the net, which, by
a direct answer, she could not have done. Baker’s Chronicle,
p. 320.
The money granted by parliament enabled the queen to fit out a fleet of
a hundred and forty sail, which, being joined by thirty Flemish ships,
and carrying six thousand land forces on board, was sent to make an
attempt on the coast of Brittany. The fleet was commanded by Lord
Clinton; the land forces by the earls of Huntingdon and Rutland. But
the equipment of the fleet and army was so dilatory that the French
got intelligence of the design, and were prepared to receive them. The
English found Brest so well guarded as to render an attempt on that
place impracticable; but, landing at Conquet, they plundered and burnt
the town, with some adjacent villages, and were proceeding to commit
greater disorders, when Kersimon, a Breton gentleman, at the head of
some militia, fell upon them, put them to rout, and drove them to their
ships with considerable loss. But a small squadron of ten English ships
had an opportunity of amply revenging this disgrace upon the French.
The mareschal de Thermes, governor of Calais, had made an irruption into
Flanders, with an army of fourteen thousand men, and, having forced a
passage over the River Aa, had taken Dunkirk and Berg St. Winoc, and had
advanced as far as Newport; but Count Egmont coming suddenly upon him
with superior forces, he was obliged to retreat; and being overtaken by
the Spaniards near Gravelines, and finding a battle inevitable, he chose
very skilfully his ground for the engagement. He fortified his left wing
with all the precautions possible, and posted his right along the River
Aa, which, he reasonably thought, gave him full security from that
quarter. But the English ships, which were accidently on the coast,
being drawn by the noise of the firing, sailed up the river, and,
flanking the French, did such execution by their artillery that they put
them to flight, and the Spaniards gained a complete victory.[*]
* Holigshed, p. 1150.
Meanwhile the principal army of France under the duke of Guise, and that
of Spain under the duke of Savoy, approached each other on the frontiers
of Picardy; and as the two kings had come into their respective camps,
attended by the flower of their nobility, men expected that some great
and important event would follow from the emulation of these warlike
nations. But Philip, though actuated by the ambition, possessed not the
enterprising genius of a conqueror; and he was willing, notwithstanding
the superiority of his numbers, and the two great victories which he
had gained at St. Quintin and Gravelines, to put a period to the war
by treaty. Negotiations were entered into for that purpose; and as the
terms offered by the two monarchs were somewhat wide of each other,
the armies were put into winter quarters till the princes could come to
better agreement. Among other conditions, Henry demanded the restitution
of Navarre to its lawful owner; Philip, that of Calais and its territory
to England; but in the midst of these negotiations, news arrived of the
death of Mary; and Philip, no longer connected with England, began
to relax in his firmness on that capital article. This was the only
circumstance that could have made the death of that princess be
regretted by the nation.
Mary had long been in a declining state of health; and having mistaken
her dropsy for a pregnancy, she had made use of an improper regimen,
and her malady daily augmented. Every reflection now tormented her.
The consciousness of being hated by her subjects, the prospect of
Elizabeth’s succession, apprehensions of the danger to which the
Catholic religion stood exposed, dejection for the loss of Calais,
concern for the ill state of her affairs, and, above all, anxiety for
the absence of her husband, who, she knew, intended soon to depart for
Spain, and to settle there during the remainder of his life,--all
these melancholy reflections preyed upon her mind, and threw her into a
lingering fever, of which she died, after a short and unfortunate reign
of five years four months and eleven days.
It is not necessary to employ many words in drawing the character of
this princess. She possessed few qualities either estimable or amiable;
and her person was as little engaging as her behavior and address.
Obstinacy, bigotry, violence, cruelty, malignity, revenge, tyranny;
every circumstance of her character took a tincture from her bad temper
and narrow understanding. And amidst that complication of vices which
entered into her composition, we shall scarcely find any virtue but
sincerity; a quality which she seems to have maintained throughout her
whole life; except in the beginning of her reign, when the necessity of
her affairs obliged her to make some promises to the Protestants, which
she certainly never intended to perform. But in these cases a weak,
bigoted woman, under the government of priests, easily finds casuistry
sufficient to justify to herself the violation of a promise. She
appears, also, as well as her father, to have been susceptible of some
attachments of friendship; and that without the caprice and inconstancy
which were so remarkable in the conduct of that monarch. To which we
may add, that in many circumstances of her life she gave indications
of resolution and vigor of mind, a quality which seems to have been
inherent in her family.
Cardinal Pole had long been sickly from an intermitting fever; and he
died the same day with the queen, about sixteen hours after her. The
benign character of this prelate, the modesty and humanity of his
deportment, made him be universally beloved; insomuch that in a nation
where the most furious persecution was carried on, and where the most
violent religious factions prevailed, entire justice, even by most of
the reformers, has been done to his merit. The haughty pontiff, Paul
IV., had entertained some prejudices against him; and when England
declared war against Henry, the ally of that pope, he seized the
opportunity of revenge; and revoking Pole’s legatine commission,
appointed in his room Cardinal Peyto, an Observantine friar, and
confessor to the queen. But Mary would never permit the new legate to
act upon the commission; and Paul was afterwards obliged to restore
Cardinal Pole to his authority.
There occur few general remarks, besides what have already been made
in the course of our narration, with regard to the general state of
the kingdom during this reign. The naval power of England was then
so inconsiderable, that fourteen thousand pounds being ordered to be
applied to the fleet, both for repairing and victualling it, it was
computed that ten thousand pounds a year would afterwards answer all
necessary charges.[*]
* Burnet, vol. iii. p. 259.
The arbitrary proceedings of the queen above mentioned, joined to many
monopolies granted by this princess, as well as by her father, checked
the growth of commerce; and so much the more, as all other princes
in Europe either were not permitted, or did not find it necessary, to
proceed in so tyrannical a manner. Acts of parliament, both in the last
reign and in the beginning of the present, had laid the same impositions
on the merchants of the still-yard as on other aliens; yet the queen,
immediately after her marriage, complied with the solicitations of the
emperor, and by her prerogative suspended those laws.[*] Nobody in that
age pretended to question this exercise of prerogative. The historians
are entirely silent with regard to it; and it is only by the collection
of public papers that it is handed down to us.
An absurd law had been made in the preceding reign, by which every one
was prohibited from making cloth unless he had served an apprenticeship
of seven years. The law was repealed in the first year of the queen; and
this plain reason given, that it had occasioned the decay of the woollen
manufacture, and had ruined several towns.[**] It is strange that
Edward’s law should have been revived during the reign of Elizabeth; and
still more strange that it should still subsist.
A passage to Archangel had been discovered by the English during the
last reign; and a beneficial trade with Muscovy had been established. A
solemn embassy was sent by the czar to Queen Mary. The ambassadors were
shipwrecked on the coast of Scotland; but being hospitably entertained
there, they proceeded on the journey, and were received at London
with great pomp and solemnity.[***] This seems to have been the first
intercourse which that empire had with any of the western potentates of
Europe.
A law was passed in this reign,[****] by which the number of horses,
arms and furniture, was fixed which each person, according to the extent
of his property, should be provided with for the defence of the kingdom.
A man of a thousand pounds a year, for instance, was obliged to maintain
at his own charge six horses fit for demi-lances, of which three at
least to be furnished with sufficient harness, steel saddles, and
weapons proper for the demi-lances; and ten horses fit for light
horsemen, with furniture and weapons proper for them: he was obliged
to have forty corselets furnished; fifty almain revets, or, instead of
them, forty coats of plate, corse, etc. or brigandines furnished; forty
pikes, thirty long bows, thirty sheafs of arrows, thirty steel caps or
skulls, twenty black bills or halberts, twenty harquebuts, and twenty
morions or sallets. We may remark that a man of a thousand marks of
stock was rated equal to one of two hundred pounds a year; a proof that
few or none at that time lived on their stock in money, and that great
profits were made by the merchants in the course of trade. There is no
class above a thousand pounds a year.
* Rymer, vol. xv. p. 364.
** 1 Mar. Parl. 2, cap, 7.
*** Holingshed, p. 732. Heylin, p. 71.
**** 4 and 5 Phil. and Mar. cap. 2.
We pay form a notion of the little progress made in arts and refinement
about this time, from one circumstance; a man of no less rank than the
comptroller of Edward VI.’s household paid only thirty shillings a year
of our present money for his house in Channel Row;[*] yet labor and
provisons, and consequently houses, were only about a third of the
present price. Erasmus ascribes the frequent plagues in England to the
nastiness, and dirt, and slovenly habits among the people. “The floors,”
says he, “are commonly of clay, strewed with rushes, under which lies
unmolested an ancient collection of beer, grease, fragments, bones,
spittle, excrements of dogs and cats, and every thing that is
nasty.”[**]
Holingshed, who lived in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, gives a very curious
account of the plain, or rather rude way of living of the preceding
generation. There scarcely was a chimney to the houses, even in
considerable towns; the fire was kindled by the wall, and the smoke
sought its way out at the roof, or door, or windows: the houses were
nothing but watling plastered over with clay; the people slept on straw
pallets, and had a good round log under their head for a pillow; and
almost all the furniture and utensils were of wood.[***] [22]
In this reign we find the first general law with regard to highways,
which were appointed to be repaired by parish duty all over
England.[****]
* Nicholson’s Historical Library.
** Erasm. Epist. 482.
*** See note V, at the end of the volume.
**** 2 and 3 Phil. and Mar. cap. 8.
NOTES.
[Footnote 1: NOTE A, p. 58. Stowe, Baker, Speed, Biondi, Holingshed,
Bacon. Some late writers, particularly Mr. Carte, have doubted whether
Perkin were an impostor, and have even asserted him to be the true
Plantagenet. But to refute this opinion, we need only reflect on the
following particulars: (1.) Though the circumstances of the wars between
the two roses be in general involved in great obscurity, yet is there a
most luminous ray thrown on all the transactions during the usurpation
of Richard, and the murder of the two young princes, by the narrative of
Sir Thomas More, whose singular magnanimity, probity, and judgment, make
him an evidence beyond all exception. No historian, either of ancient
or modern times, can possibly have more weight: he may also be justly
esteemed a contemporary with regard to the murder of the two princes;
for though he was but five years of age when that event happened, he
lived and was educated among the chief actors during the period of
Richard; and it is plain from this narrative itself, which is often
extremely circumstantial, that he had the particulars from the
eyewitnesses themselves. His authority, therefore, is irresistible, and
sufficient to overbalance a hundred little doubts, and scruples,
and objections. For in reality his narrative is liable to no solid
objection, nor is there any mistake detected in it. He says, indeed,
that the protector’s partisans, particularly Dr. Shaw, spread abroad
rumors of Edward IV.’s pre-contract with Elizabeth Lucy; whereas it now
appears from record, that the parliament afterwards declared the king’s
children illegitimate, on pretence of his pre-contract with lady Eleanor
Talbot. But it must be remarked, that neither of these pre-contracts
was ever so much as attempted to be proved; and why might not the
protector’s flatterers and partisans have made use sometimes of one
false rumor, sometimes of another? Sir Thomas More mentions the one
rumor as well as the other, and treats them both lightly, as they
deserved. It is also thought incredible by Mr. Carte, that Dr. Shaw
should have been encouraged by Richard to calumniate openly his mother
the duchess of York, with whom that prince lived in good terms. But if
there be any difficulty in this supposition, we need only suppose, that
Dr. Shaw might have concerted in general his sermon with the protector
or his ministers, and yet have chosen himself the particular topics, and
chosen them very foolishly. This appears, indeed, to have been the case,
by the disgrace into which he fell afterwards, and by the protector’s
neglect of him. (2.) If Sir Thomas’s quality of contemporary be disputed
with regard to the duke of Glocester’s protectorate, it cannot possibly
be disputed with regard to Perkin’s imposture: he was then a man, and
had a full opportunity of knowing and examining and judging of the
truth. In asserting that the duke of York was murdered by his uncle,
he certainly asserts, in the most express terms, that Perkin, who
personated him, was an impostor. (3.) There is another great genius who
has carefully treated this point of history; so great a genius, as to
be esteemed with justice one of the chief ornaments of the nation,
and indeed one of the most sublime writers that any age or nation has
produced. It is Lord Bacon I mean, who has related at full length, and
without the least doubt or hesitation, all the impostures of Perkin
Warbeck. If it be objected, that Lord Bacon was no contemporary, and
that we have the same materials as he upon which to form our judgment;
it must be remarked, the lord Bacon plainly composed his elaborate and
exact history from many records and papers which are now lost, and that
consequently he is always to be cited as an original historian. It were
very strange, if Mr. Carte’s opinion were just, that, among all the
papers which Lord Bacon perused, he never found any reascn to suspect
Perkin to be the true Plantagenet. There was at that time no interest
in defaming Richard III. Bacon, besides, is a very unbiased historian,
nowise partial to Henry; we know the detail of that prince’s oppressive
government from him alone. It may only be thought that, in summing up
his character, he has laid the colors of blame more faintly than the
very facts he mentions seem to require. Let me remark, in passing, as
a singularity, how much English history has been beholden to four great
men who have possessed the highest dignity in the law, More, Bacon,
Clarendon, and Whitlocke. (4.) But if contemporary evidence be so much
sought after, there may in this case be produced the strongest and
most undeniable in the world. The queen dowager, her son the marquis
of Dorset, a man of excellent understanding Sir Edward Woodville, her
brother, Sir Thomas St. Leger, who had married the king’s sister, Sir
John Bourchier, Sir Robert Willoughby, Sir Giles Daubeney, Sir Thomas
Arundel, the Courtneys, the Cheyneys, the Talbots, the Stanleys, and,
in a word, all the partisans of the house of York, that is, the men of
chief dignity in the nation; all these great persons were so assured
of the murder of the two princes, that they applied to the earl of
Richmond, the mortal enemy of their party and family; they projected to
set him on the throne, which must have been utter ruin to them if the
princes were alive; and they stipulated to marry him to the princess
Elizabeth, as heir to the crown, who in that case was no heir at all.
Had each of those persons written the memoirs of his own times, would he
not have said that Richard murdered his nephews? Or would their pen be
a better declaration than their actions, of their real sentiments? (5.)
But we have another contemporary authority, still better than even
those great persons, so much interested to know the truth: it is that
of Richard himself. He projected to marry his niece, a very unusual
alliance in England, in order to unite her title with his own. He
knew, therefore, her title to be good: for as to the declaration of her
illegitimacy, as it went upon no proof, or even pretence of proof, it
was always regarded with the utmost contempt by the nation, and it was
considered as one of those parliamentary transactions, so frequent in
that period, which were scandalous in themselves, and had no manner
of authority. It was even so much despised, as not to be reversed by
parliament after Henry and Elizabeth were on the throne. (6.) We have
also, as contemporary evidence, the universal established opinion of
the age, both abroad and at home. This point was regarded as so
uncontroverted, that when Richard notified his accession to the court of
France, that court was struck with horror at his abominable parricide
in murdering both his nephews, as Philip de Comines tells us; and this
sentiment went to such an unusual height, that, as we learn from the
same author, the court would not make the least reply to him. (7.) The
same reasons which convinced that age of the parricide still subsist,
and ought to carry the most undoubted evidence to us; namely, the very
circumstance of the sudden disappearance of the princes from the Tower,
and their appearance nowhere else. Every one said, “They have not
escaped from their uncle, for he makes no search after them: he has not
conveyed them elsewhere; for it is his business to declare so, in
order to remove the imputation of murder from himself. He never would
needlessly subject himself to the infamy and danger of being esteemed
a parricide, without acquiring the security attending that crime. They
were in his custody. He is answerable for them. If he gives no account
of them, as he has a plain interest in their death, he must, by
every rule of common sense, be regarded as the murderer. His flagrant
usurpation, as well as his other treacherous and cruel actions, makes
no better be expected from him. He could not say, with Cain, that he was
not his nephews’ keeper.” This reasoning, which was irrefragable at the
very first, became every day stronger from Richard’s continued silence,
and the general and total ignorance of the place of these princes’
abode. Richard’s reign lasted about two years beyond this period; and
surely he could not have found a better expedient for disappointing the
earl of Richmond’s projects, as well as justifying his own character,
than the producing of his nephews. (8.) If it were necessary, amidst
this blaze of evidence, to produce proofs which, in any other case,
would have been regarded as considerable, and would have carried great
validity with them, I might mention Dighton and Tyrrel’s account of the
murder. This last gentleman especially was not likely to subject himself
to the reproach of so great a crime, by an imposture which, it appears,
did not acquire him the favor of Henry. (9.) The duke of York, being
a boy of nine years of age, could not have made his escape without the
assistance of some elder persons. Would it not have been their chief
concern instantly to convey intelligence of so great an event to his
mother, the queen dowager, to his aunt, the duchess of Burgundy, and to
the other friends of the family. The duchess protected Simnel; a project
which, had it been successful, must have ended in the crowning of
Warwick and the exclusion of the duke of York. This, among many other
proofs, evinces that she was ignorant of the escape of that prince,
which is impossible had it been real. (10.) The total silence with
regard to the persons who aided him in his escape, as also with regard
to the place of his abode during more than eight years, is a sufficient
proof of the imposture. (11.) Perkin’s own account of his escape is
incredible and absurd. He said, that murderers were employed by his
uncle to kill him and his brother; they perpetrated the crime against
his brother, but took compassion on him, and allowed him to escape. This
account is contained in all the historians of that age. (12.) Perkin
himself made a full confession of his imposture no less than three
times; once when he surrendered himself prisoner, a second time when he
was set in the stocks at Cheapside and Westminster, and a third time,
which carries undoubted evidence, at the foot of the gibbet on which
he was hanged. Not the least surmise that the confession had ever been
procured by torture; and surely the last time he had nothing further
to fear. (13.) Had not Henry been assured that Perkin was a ridiculous
impostor, disavowed by the whole nation, he never would have allowed him
to live an hour after he came into his power, much less would he have
twice pardoned him. His treatment of the innocent earl of Warwick, who,
in reality, had no title to the crown, is a sufficient confirmation of
this reasoning. (14.) We know with certainty whence the whole imposture
came, namely, from the intrigues of the duchess of Burgundy. She had
before acknowledged and supported Lambert Simnel, an avowed imposter.
It is remarkable that Mr. Carte, in order to preserve the weight of
the duchess’s testimony in favor of Perkin, suppresses entirely this
material fact: a strong effect of party prejudices, and this author’s
desire of blackening Henry VII., whose hereditary title to the crown was
defective. (15.) There never was, at that time, any evidence or shadow
of evidence produced of Perkin’s identity with Richard Plantagenet.
Richard had disappeared when near nine years of age, and Perkin did not
appear till he was a man. Could any one from his aspect pretend then to
be sure of the identity? He had got some stories concerning Richard’s
childhood, and the court of England; but all that it was necessary for
a boy of nine to remark or remember, was easily suggested to him by the
duchess of Burgundy, or Frion, Henry’s secretary, or by any body that
had ever lived at court. It is true, many persons of note were at
first deceived; but the discontents against Henry’s government, and the
general enthusiasm for the house of York, account sufficiently for this
temporary delusion. Everybody’s eyes were opened long before Perkin’s
death. (16.) The circumstance of finding the two dead bodies in the
reign of Charles II. is not surely indifferent. They were found in the
very place which More, Bacon, and other ancient authors, had assigned as
the place of interment of the young princes; the bones corresponded by
their size to the age of the princes; the secret and irregular place of
their interment, not being in holy ground, proves that the boys had
been secretly murdered; and in the Tower no boys but those who are very
nearly related to the crown can be exposed to a violent death. If we
compare all these circumstances, we shall find that the inference is
just and strong, that they were the bodies of Edward V. and his brother,
the very inference that was drawn at the time of the discovery.
Since the publication of this History, Mr. Walpole has published his
Historic Doubts concerning Richard III. Nothing can be a stronger proof
how ingenious and agreeable that gentleman’s pen is, than his being
able to make an inquiry concerning a remote point of English history, an
object of general conversation. The foregoing note has been enlarged on
account of that performance.]
[Footnote 2: NOTE B, p. 69. Rot. Parl. 3 Henry VII. n. 17. The preamble
is remarkable, and shows the state of the nation at that time.
“The king, our sovereign lord, remembereth how, by our unlawful
maintainances, giving of liveries, signs, and tokens, retainders by
indentures, promises, oaths, writings, and other embraceries of his
subjects, untrue demeanings of sheriffs in making panels, and untrue
returns by taking money, by juries, etc. the policy of this nation is
most subdued.” It must indeed be confessed, that such a state of the
country required great discretionary power in the sovereign; nor will
the same maxims of government suit such a rude people, that may be
proper in a more advanced stage of society. The establishment of the
star-chamber, or the enlargement of its power, in the reign of Henry
VII., might have been as wise as the abolition of it in that of Charles
I.]
[Footnote 3: NOTE C, p. 72. The duke of Northumberland has lately
printed a household book of an old earl of that family, who lived at
this time. The author has been favored with the perusal of it; and it
contains many curious particulars, which mark the manners and way of
living in that rude, not to say barbarous, age; as well as the prices of
commodities. I have extracted a few of them from that piece, which
gives a true picture of ancient manners, and is one of the most singular
monuments that English antiquity affords us; for we may be confident,
however rude the strokes, that no baron’s family was on a nobler or
more splendid footing. The family consists of one hundred and sixty-six
persons, masters and servants. Fifty-seven strangers are reckoned
upon every day; on the whole, two hundred and twenty-three. Twopence
halfpenny are supposed to be the daily expense of each for meat, drink,
and firing. This would make a groat of our present money. Supposing
provisions between three and four times cheaper, it would be equivalent
to fourteenpence: no great sum for a nobleman’s housekeeping; especially
considering that the chief expense of a family at that time consisted
in meat and drink; for the sum allotted by the earl for his whole
annual expense is one thousand one hundred and eighteen pounds seventeen
shillings and eightpence; meat, drink, and firing cost seven hundred and
ninety-six pounds eleven shillings and twopence, more than two thirds
of the whole; in a modern family it is not above a third, (p. 157,
158, 159.) The whole expense of the earl’s family is managed with an
exactness that is very rigid, and, if we make no allowance for ancient
manners, such as may seem to border on an extreme; insomuch that the
number of pieces which must be cut out of every quarter of beef, mutton,
pork, veal, nay, stock-fish and salmon, are determined, and must be
entered and accounted for by the different clerks appointed for that
purpose. If a servant be absent a day, his mess is struck off. If he go
on my lord’s business, board-wages are allowed him, eightpence a day for
his journey in winter, fivepence in summer. When he stays in any place,
twopence a day are allowed him, besides the maintenance of his horse.
Somewhat above a quarter of wheat is allowed for every mouth throughout
the year; and the wheat is estimated at five shillings and eightpence
a quarter. Two hundred and fifty quarters of malt are allowed, at four
shillings a quarter. Two hogsheads are to be made of a quarter, which
amounts to about a bottle and a third of beer a day to each person,
(p.4,) and the beer will not be very strong One hundred and nine fat
beeves are to be bought at Allhallow-tide, at thirteen shillings and
fourpence apiece; and twenty-four lean beeves to be bought at St.
Helens, at eight shillings apiece. These are to be put into the pastures
to feed; and are to serve from Mid-summer to Michaelmas; which is
consequently the only time that the family eats fresh beef. During all
the rest of the year they live on salted meat. (p.5.) One hundred and
sixty gallons of mustard are allowed in a year, which seems indeed
requisite for the salt beef, (p.18.) Six hundred and forty-seven sheep
are allowed, at twentypence apiece; and these seem also to be all eat
salted, except between Lammas and Michaelmas, (p.5.) Only twenty-five
hogs are allowed at two shillings apiece; twenty-eight veals, at
twentypence; forty lambs, at tenpence or a shilling, (p. 7.) These
seem to be reserved for my lord’s table, or that of the upper servants,
called the knights’ table. The other servants, as they eat salted meat
almost through the whole year, and with few or no vegetables, had a very
bad and unhealthy diet; so that there cannot be any thing more erroneous
than the magnificent ideas formed of “the roast beef of old England.” We
must entertain as mean an idea of its cleanliness. Only seventy ells of
linen, at eightpence an ell, are annually allowed for this great family.
No sheets were used. This linen was made into eight table-cloths for my
lord’s table, and one table-cloth for the knights, (p.16.) This last, I
suppose, was washed only once a month. Only forty shillings are allowed
for washing throughout the whole year; and most of it seems expended on
the linen belonging to the chapel. The drinking, however, was tolerable,
namely, ten tuns and two hogsheads of Gascogny wine, at the rate of four
pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence a tun. (p.6.) Only ninety-one
dozen of candles for the whole year. (p.14.) The family rose at six
in the morning, dined at ten, and supped at four in the afternoon. The
gates were all shut at nine, and no further ingress or egress permitted,
(p. 314, 318.) My lord and lady have set on their table for breakfast at
seven o’clock in the morning a quart of beer, as much wine; two pieces
of salt fish, six red herrings, four white ones, or a dish of sprats.
In flesh days, half a chine of mutton, or a chine of beef boiled, (p.73,
75.) Mass is ordered to be said at six o’clock, in order, says the
household book that all my lord’s servants may rise early, (p.170.) Only
twenty-four fires are allowed, beside the kitchen and hall, and most
of these have only a peck of coals a day allowed them. (p.99.) After
Lady-day, no fires permitted in the rooms, except half-fires in my
lord’s and lady’s, and lord Piercy’s and the nursery, (p.101.) It is
to be observed, that my lord kept house in Yorkshire, where there is
certainly much cold weather after Lady-day. Eighty chalders of coals,
at four shillings and twopence a chalder, suffices throughout the whole
year; and because coal will not burn without wood, says the household
book, sixty-four loads of great wood are also allowed, at twelvepence a
load.(p.22.) This is a proof that grates were not the used. Here is an
article. “It is devised that from henceforth no capons to be bought but
only for my lord’s own mess, and that the said capons shall be
bought for twopence apiece, lean, and fed in the poultry; and master
chamberlain and the stewards be fed with capons, if there be strangers
sitting with them.” (p. 102.) Pigs are to be bought at threepence or a
groat a piece; geese at the same price; chickens at a halfpenny; hens
at twopence, and only for the abovementioned tables. Here is another
article. “Item, it is thought* good that no plovers be bought at no
season but only in Christmas* and principal feasts, and my lord to be
served therewith and his board-*end, and none other, and to be bought
for a penny apiece, or a penny halfpenny at most.” (p. 103.) Woodcocks
are to be bought at the same price. Partridges at twopence, (p. 104,
105.) Pheasants a shilling; peacocks, the same. (p. 100.) My lord keeps
only twenty-seven horses in his stable at his own charge. His upper
servants have allowance for maintaining their own horses, (p. 126.)
These horses are six gentle horses, as they are called, at hay and hard
meat throughout the whole year, four palfreys, three hobbies and nags
three sumpter horses, six horses for those servants to whom my lord
furnishes a horse, two sumpter horses more, and three mill horses two
for carrying the corn, and one for grinding it; whence we may infer that
mills, either water or windmills, were then unknown, at least very rare;
besides these, there are seven great trotting horses for the chariot or
wagon. He allows a peck of oats a day, besides loaves made of beans,
for his principal horses; the oats at twentypence, the beans at two
shillings a quarter. The load of hay is at two shillings and eightpence.
When my lord is on a journey, he carries thirty-six horsemen along with
him; together with bed and other accommodation. (p. 157.) The inns, it
seems, could afford nothing tolerable. My lord passes the year in three
country seats, all in Yorkshire; Wrysel, Leckenfield, and Topclyiffe;
but he has furniture only for one. He carries every thing along with
him, beds, tables, chairs, kitchen utensils, all which, we may conclude,
were so coarse, that they could not be spoilt by the carriage; yet
seventeen carts and one wagon suffice for the whole. (p. 391.) One cart
suffices for all his kitchen utensils, cooks’ beds, etc. (p. 388.) One
remarkable circumstance is, that he has eleven priests in his house,
besides seventeen persons, chanters, musicians, etc. belonging to
his chapel; yet he has only two cooks for a family of two hundred and
twenty-three persons. (p. 325.)[*]
* In another place mention is made of four cooks. (p. 388.)
But I suppose that the two servants, called in p. 325 groom
of the larder and child of the scullery, are on p. 368,
comprehended in the number of cooks.
Their meals were certainly dressed on the slovenly manner of a ship’s
company. It is amusing to observe the pompous and even royal style
assumed by this Tartar chief. He does not give any orders, though
only for the right making of mustard, but it is introduced with this
preamble: “It seemeth good to us and our council.” If we consider the
magnificent and elegant manner in which the Venetian and other
Italian noblemen then lived, with the progress made by the Italians in
literature and the fine arts, we shall not wonder that they considered
the ultramontane nations as barbarous. The Flemish also seem to have
much excelled the English and even the French. Yet the earl is sometimes
not deficient in generosity; he pays, for instance, an annual pension of
a groat a year to my lady of Walsingham, for her interest in heaven: the
same sum to the holy blood at Hales. (p. 337.) No mention is anywhere
made of plate; but only of the hiring of pewter vessels. The servants
seem all to have bought their own clothes from their wages.]
[Footnote 4: NOTE D, p. 132. Protestant writers have imagined, that
because a man could purchase for a shilling an indulgence for the most
enormous and unheard-of crimes, there must necessarily have ensued a
total dissolution of morality, and consequently of civil society, from
the practices of the Romish church. They do not consider, that after all
these indulgences were promulgated, there still remained (besides hell
fire) the punishment by the civil magistrate, the infamy of the world,
and secret remorses of conscience, which are the great motives that
operate on mankind. The philosophy of Cicero, who allowed of an Elysium,
but rejected all Tartarus, was a much more universal indulgence than
that preached by Arcemboldi or Tetzel; yet nobody will suspect Cicero
of any design to promote immorality. The sale of indulgences seems,
therefore, no more criminal than any other cheat of the church of Rome,
or of any other church. The reformers, by entirely abolishing purgatory,
did really, instead of partial indulgences sold by the pope, give,
gratis, a general indulgence of a similar nature, for all crimes and
offences, without exception or distinction. The souls once consigned
to hell were never supposed to be redeemable by any price. There is on
record only one instance of a damned soul that was saved, and that by
the special intercession of the Virgin. See Pascal’s Provincial Letters.
An indulgence saved the person who purchased it from purgatory only.]
[Footnote 5: NOTE E, p. 142. It is said, that when Henry heard that the
commons made a great difficulty of granting the required supply, he was
so provoked that he sent for Edward Montague, one of the members, who
had a considerable influence on the house; and he being introduced to
his majesty, had the mortification to hear him speak in these words:
“Ho! man: will they not suffer my bill to pass?” And laying his hand
on Montague’s head, who was then on his knees before him, “Get my bill
passed by to-morrow, or else to-morrow this head of yours shall be off.”
This cavalier manner of Henry succeeded; for next day the bill passed.
Collins’s British Peerage. Grove’s Life of Wolsey. We are told by Hall,
(fol. 38,) that Cardinal Wolsey endeavored to terrify the citizens of
London into the general loan exacted in 1525, and told them plainly,
that “it were better that some should suffer indigence than that the
king at this time should lack and therefore beware and resist not, nor
ruffle not in this case, for it may fortune to cost some people their
heads.” Such was the style employed by this king and his ministers.]
[Footnote 6: NOTE F, p. 177. The first article of the charge against the
cardinal is his procuring the legatine power, which, however, as it was
certainly done with the king’s consent and permission, could be nowise
criminal. Many of the other articles also regard the mere exercise of
that power. Some articles impute to him, as crimes, particular actions
which were natural or unavoidable to any man that was prime minister
with so unlimited an authority; such as receiving first all letters from
the king’s ministers abroad, receiving first all visits from foreign
ministers, desiring that all applications should be made through him. He
was also accused of naming himself with the king, as if he had been his
fellow--“the king and I.” It is reported that sometimes he even put
his own name before the king’s--“ego et rex meus.” But this mode of
expression is justified by the Latin idiom. It is remarkable, that
his whispering in the king’s ear, knowing himself to be affected with
venereal distempers, is an article against him. Many of the charges are
general, and incapable of proof. Lord Herbert goes so far as to affirm,
that no man ever fell from so high a station who had so few real crimes
objected to him. This opinion is perhaps a little too favorable to the
cardinal. Yet the refutation of the articles by Cromwell, and their
being rejected by a house of commons, even in this arbitrary reign,
is almost a demonstration of Wolsey’s innocence. Henry was, no
doubt, entirely bent on his destruction, when, on his failure by
a parliamentary impeachment, he attacked him upon the statute of
provisors, which afforded him so little just hold on that minister. For
that this indictment was subsequent to the attack in parliament, appears
by Cavendish’s Life of Wolsey, and Stowe, (p. 551,) and more certainly
by the very articles of impeachment themselves. Parliamentary History,
vol. iii. p. 42, article 7. Coke’s Inst. part iv. fol. 89.]
[Footnote 7: NOTE G, p. 183. Even judging of this question by the
Scripture, to which the appeal was every moment made, the arguments for
the king’s cause appear but lame and imperfect. Marriage in the degree
of affinity which had place between Henry and Catharine, is, indeed,
prohibited in Leviticus; but it is natural to interpret that prohibition
as a part of the Jewish ceremonial or municipal law; and though it is
there said, in the conclusion, that the Gentile nations, by violating
those degrees of consanguinity, had incurred the divine displeasure;
the extension of this maxim to every precise case before specified,
is supposing the Scriptures to be composed with a minute accuracy and
precision, to which, we know with certainty, the sacred penmen did not
think proper to confine themselves. The descent of mankind from one
common father obliged them, in the first generation, to marry in the
nearest degrees of consanguinity. Instances of a like nature occur among
the patriarchs; and the marriage of a brother’s widow was, in certain
cases, not only permitted, but even enjoined as a positive precept,
by the Mosaical law. It is in vain to say that this precept was an
exception to the rule, and an exception confined merely to the Jewish
nation. The inference is still just, that such a marriage can contain
no natural or moral turpitude; otherwise God, who is the author of all
purity, would never, in any case, have enjoined it.]
[Footnote 8: NOTE H, p. 191. Bishop Burnet has given us an account of
the number of bulls requisite for Cranmer’s installation. By one bull,
directed to the king, he is, upon the royal nomination, made archbishop
of Canterbury. By a second, directed to himself, he is also made
archbishop. By a third, he is absolved from all censures. A fourth is
directed to the suffragans, requiring them to receive and acknowledge
him as archbishop. A fifth to the dean and chapter, to the same purpose.
A sixth to the clergy of Canterbury. A seventh to all the laity in his
see. An eighth to all that held lands of it. By a ninth he was ordered
to be consecrated, taking the oath that was in the pontifical. By a
tenth the pall was sent him. By an eleventh the archbishop of York and
the bishop of London were required to put it on him. These were so
many devices to draw fees to offices which the popes had erected, and
disposed of for money. It may be worth observing, that Cranmer, before
he took the oath to the pope, made a protestation, that he did not
intend thereby to restrain himself from any thing that he was bound
to, either by his duty to God, the king, or the country; and that he
renounced every thing in it that was contrary to any of these. This was
the invention of some casuist, and not very compatible with that
strict sincerity, and that scrupulous conscience, of which Cranmer made
profession. Collier, vol. ii. in Coll No. 22. Burnet, vol. i. p. 128,
129.]
[Footnote 9: NOTE I, p. 203. Here are the terms in which the king’s
minister expressed himself to the pope. “An non, inquam, sanctitas
vestra plerosque habet quibuscum arcanum aliquid crediderit, putet id
non minus celatum esse quam si uno tantum pectore contineretur; quod
multo magis serenissimo Angliæ regi evenire debet, cui singuli in
suo regno sunt subjecti, neque etiam velint, possunt regi non esse
fidelissimi. Væ namque illis, si vel parvo momento ab illius voluntate
recederent”. Le Grand, tom. iii. p. 113. The king once said
publicly before the council, that if any one spoke of him or his actions
in terms which became them not, he would let them know that he was
master. “Et qu’il n’y auroit si belle tête qu’il ne fit voler.” Id. p.
218.]
[Footnote 11: NOTE K. p 226. This letter contains so much nature, and
even elegance, as to deserve to be transmitted to posterity, without any
alteration in the expression. It is as follows:--
“Sir, your grace’s displeasure and my imprisonment are things so strange
unto me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant.
Whereas you send unto me (willing me to confess a truth and so obtain
your favor) by such an one whom you know to be mine ancient professed
enemy, I no sooner received this message by him, than I rightly
conceived your meaning; and if, as you say, confessing a truth indeed
may procure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform
your command.
“But let not your grace ever imagine that your poor wife will ever be
brought to acknowledge a fault where not so much as a thought thereof
preceded. And, to speak a truth, never prince had wife more loyal in
all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Anne
Boleyn; with which name and place I could willingly have contented
myself, if God and your grace’s pleasure had been so pleased. Neither
did I at any time so far forget myself in my exaltation or received
queenship, but that I always looked for such an alteration as I now
find; for the ground of my preferment being on no surer foundation than
your grace’s fancy, the least alteration I knew was fit and sufficient
to draw that fancy to some other object. You have chosen me from a low
estate to be your queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire.
If then you found me worthy of such honor, good your grace let not any
light fancy, or bad counsel of mine enemies withdraw your princely favor
from me; neither let that stain, that unworthy stain, of a disloyal
heart towards your good grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most
dutiful wife, and the infant princess your daughter. Try me, good king,
but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my
accusers and judges; yea, let me receive an open trial, for my truth
shall fear no open shame; then shall you see either mine innocence
cleared, your suspicion and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and
slander of the world stopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that
whatsoever God or you may determine of me, your grace may be freed from
an open censure; and mine offence being so lawfully proved, your grace
is at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy
punishment on me as an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection,
already settled on that party for whose sake I am now as I am, whose
name I could some good while since have pointed unto, your grace not
being ignorant of my suspicion therein.
“But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my death,
but an infamous slander, must bring you the enjoying of your desired
happiness; then I desire of God, that he will pardon your great sin
therein, and likewise mine enemies, the instruments thereof; and that
he will not call you to a strict account for your unprincely and cruel
usage of me, at his general judgment-seat, where both you and myself
must shortly appear, and in whose judgment, I doubt not, (whatsoever
the world may think of me,) mine innocence shall be openly known and
sufficiently cleared.
“My last and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden
of your grace’s displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent
souls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I understand,) are likewise in
strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have found favor in your
sight, if ever the name of Anne Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears,
then let me obtain this request; and I will so leave to trouble your
grace any further, with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity to have your
grace in his good keeping, and to direct you In all your actions. From
my doleful prison in the Tower, this sixth of May.
“Your most loyal and ever faithful wife,
“ANNE BOLEYN.”]
[Footnote 12: NOTE L, p. 234. A proposal had formerly been made in the
convocation for the abolition of the lesser monasteries; and had been
much opposed by Bishop Fisher, who was then alive. He told his brethren,
that this was fairly showing the king the way how he might come at the
greater monasteries. “An axe,” said he, “which wanted a handle, came upon
a time into the wood, making his moan to the great trees, that he wanted
a handle to work withal, and for that cause he was constrained to sit
idle; therefore he made it his request to them, that they would be
pleased to grant him one of their small saplings within the wood to
make him a handle; who, mistrusting no guile, granted him one of their
smaller trees to make him a handle. But now becoming a complete axe, he
fell so to work within the same wood, that in process of time, there was
neither great nor small trees to be found in the place where the
wood stood. And so, my lords, if you grant the king these smaller
monasteries, you do but make him a handle, whereby, at his own pleasure,
he may cut down all the cedars within your Lebanons.” Dr. Bailie’s Life
of Bishop Fisher, p. 108.]
[Footnote 13: NOTE M, p. 244. There is a curious passage with regard
to the suppression of monasteries to be found in Coke’s Institutes, 4th
Inst. chap. i. p. 44. It is worth transcribing, as it shows the ideas of
the English government, entertained during the reign of Henry VIII., and
even in the time of Sir Edward Coke, when he wrote his Institutes. It
clearly appears, that the people had then little notion of being jealous
of their liberties, were desirous of making the crown quite independent,
and wished only to remove from themselves, as much as possible, the
burdens of government. A large standing army, and a fixed revenue,
would, on these conditions, have been regarded as great blessings; and
it was owing entirely to the prodigality of Henry, and to his little
suspicion that the power of the crown could ever fail, that the English
owe all their present liberty. The title of the chapter in Coke, is,
“Advice concerning new and plausible Projects and Offers in Parliament.”
“When any plausible project,” says he, “is made in parliament, to draw
the lords and commons to assent to any act, (especially in matters of
weight and importance,) if both houses do give upon the matter projected
and promised their consent, it shall be most necessary, they being
trusted for the commonwealth, to have the matter projected and promised
(which moved the houses to consent) to be established in the same act,
lest the benefit of the act be taken, and the matter projected and
promised never performed, and so the houses of parliament perform not
the trust reposed in them, as it fell out (taking one example for many)
in the reign of Henry VIII. On the king’s behalf, the members of both
houses were informed in parliament, that no king or kingdom was safe but
where the king had three abilities: 1. To live of his own, and able to
defend his kingdom upon any sudden invasion or insurrection. 2. To aid
his confederates, otherwise they would never assist him. 3. To
reward his well-deserving servants. Now, the project was, that if the
parliament would give unto him all the abbeys, priories, friaries,
nunneries, and other monasteries, that, forever in time then to come, he
would take order that the same should not be converted to private uses;
but first, that his exchequer for the purposes aforesaid, should be
enriched; secondly, the kingdom strengthened by a continual maintenance
of forty thousand well-trained soldiers, with skilful captains and
commanders; thirdly, for the benefit and ease of the subject, who never
afterwards, (as was projected,) in any time to come, should be charged
with subsidies, fifteenths, loans, or other common aids; fourthly, lest
the honor of the realm should receive any diminution of honor by the
dissolution of the said monasteries, there being twenty-nine lords
of parliament of the abbots and priors, (that held of the king ‘pet
baroniam,’ whereof more in the next leaf,) that the king would create a
number of nobles, which we omit. The said monasteries were given to the
king by authority of divers ants of parliament, but no provision was
therein made for the said project, or any part thereof!”]
[Footnote 14: NOTE N, p. 252., Collier, in his Ecclesiastical History,
(vol. ii. p. 152,) has preserved an account which Cromwell gave of this
conference, in a letter to Sir Thomas Wyat, the king’s ambassador in
Germany. “The king’s majesty,” says Cromwell, “for the reverence of
the holy sacrament of the altar, did sit openly in his hall, and there
presided at the disputation, process, and judgment of a miserable
heretic sacramentary, who was burned the twentieth of November. It was a
wonder to see how princely, with how excellent gravity, and inestimable
majesty, his highness exercised there the very office of supreme head
of the church of England. How benignly his grace essayed to convert
the miserable man; how strong and manifest reasons his highness alleged
against him. I wish the princes and potentates of Christendom to have
had a meet place to have seen it. Undoubtedly they should have much
marvelled at his majesty’s most high wisdom and judgment, and reputed
him no otherwise after the same, than in a manner the mirror and
light of all other kings and princes in Christendom.” It was by such
flatteries that Henry was engaged to make his sentiments the standard to
all mankind; and was determined to enforce, by the severest penalties,
his “strong” and “manifest” reasons for transubstantiation.]
[Footnote 15: NOTE O, p. 254. There is a story, that the duke of
Norfolk, meeting, soon after this act was passed, one of his chaplains,
who was suspected of favoring the reformation, said to him, “Now, sir,
what think you of the law to hinder priests from having wives?” “Yes, my
lord,” replies the chaplain, “you have done that; but I will answer for
it you cannot hinder men’s wives from having priests.”]
[Footnote 16: NOTE P, p. 265. To show how much Henry sported with
law and common sense, how servilely the parliament followed all his
caprices, and how much both of them were lost to all sense of shame, an
act was passed this session, declaring that a precontract should be no
ground for annulling a marriage; as if that pretext had not been made
use of both in the case of Anne Boleyn and Anne of Cleves. But the
king’s intention in this law is said to be a design of restoring the
princess Elizabeth to her right of legitimacy; and it was his character
never to look farther than the present object, without regarding the
inconsistency of his conduct. The parliament made it high treason to
deny the dissolution of Henry’s marriage with Anne of Cleves. Herbert.]
[Footnote 17: NOTE Q, p. 274. It was enacted by this parliament, that
there should be trial of treason in any county where the king should
appoint by commission. The statutes of treason had been extremely
multiplied in this reign; and such an expedient saved trouble and
charges in trying that crime. The same parliament erected Ireland into
a kingdom; and Henry henceforth annexed the title of king of Ireland to
his other titles. This session the commons first began the practice of
freeing any of their members who were arrested, by a writ issued by
the speaker. Formerly it was usual for them to apply for a writ from
chancery to that purpose. This precedent increased the authority of the
commons, and had afterwards important consequences. Holingshed, p. 955,
956. Baker, p. 289.]
[Footnote 18: NOTE R, p. 281. The persecutions exercised during James’s
reign are not to be ascribed to his bigotry, a vice of which he seems to
have been as free as Francis I. or the emperor Charles, both of whom,
as well as James, showed, in different periods of their lives, even an
inclination to the new doctrines. The extremities to which all these
princes were carried, proceeded entirely from the situation of affairs
during that age, which rendered it impossible for them to act with
greater temper or moderation, after they had embraced the resolution of
supporting the ancient establishments. So violent was the propensity
of the times towards innovation, that a bare toleration of the new
preachers was equivalent to a formed design of changing the national
religion.]
[Footnote 19: NOTE S, p. 331. Spotswood, p. 75. The same author (p. 92)
tells us a story which confirms this character of the Popish clergy in
Scotland. It became a great dispute in the university of St. Andrew’s,
whether the pater should be said to God or the saints. The friars, who
knew in general that the reformers neglected the saints, were determined
to maintain their honor with great obstinacy; but they knew not upon
what topics to found their doctrine. Some held that the pater was
said to God formaliter, and to saints materialiter; others, to God
principaliter, and to saints minus principaliter; others would have
it ultimate and non ultimate: but the majority seemed to hold that the
pater was said to God capiendo stricte, and to saints capiendo large. A
simple fellow, who served the sub-prior, thinking there was some great
matter in hand that made the doctors hold so many conferences together,
asked him one day what the matter was: the sub-prior answering, “Tom,”
(that was the fellow’s name,) “we cannot agree to whom the pater-noster
should be said.” He suddenly replied, “To whom, sir, should it be said,
but unto God?” Then said the sub-prior, “What shall we do with the
saints?” He answered, “Give them aves and creeds enow, in the devil’s
name; for that may suffice them.” The answer going abroad, many said,
“that he had given a wiser decision than all the doctors had done, with
all their distinctions.”]
[Footnote 20: NOTE T, p. 351. Another act, passed this session, takes
notice, in the preamble, that the city of York, formerly well inhabited,
was now much decayed; insomuch that many of the cures could not afford
a competent maintenance to the incumbents. To remedy this inconvenience,
the magistrates were empowered to unite as many parishes as they thought
proper. An ecclesiastical historian (Collier, vol. ii. p. 230) thinks
that this decay of York is chiefly to be ascribed to the dissolution of
monasteries, by which the revenues fell into the hands of persons who
lived at a distance.
A very grievous tax was imposed this session upon the whole stock and
moneyed interest of the kingdom, and even upon its industry. It was a
shilling in the pound yearly, during three years, on every person worth
ten pounds or upwards; the double on aliens and denizens. These last, if
above twelve years of age, and if worth less than twenty shillings, were
to pay eightpence yearly. Every wether was to pay twopence yearly; every
ewe, threepence. The woollen manufactures were to pay eightpence a pound
on the value of all the cloth they made. These exorbitant taxes on money
are a proof that few people lived on money lent at interest; for this
tax amounts to half of the yearly income of all money-holders, during
three years, estimating their interest at the rate allowed by law; and
was too grievous to be borne, if many persons had been affected by it.
It is remarkable, that no tax at all was laid upon land this session.
The profits of merchandise were commonly so high, that it was supposed
it could bear this imposition. The most absurd part of the laws seems
to be the tax upon the woollen manufactures. See 2 and 3 Edward VI.
cap. 36. The subsequent parliament repealed the tax on sheep and woollen
cloth. 3 and 4 Edward VI. cap. 23. But they continued the other tax a
year longer. Ibid.
The clergy taxed themselves at six shillings in the pound, to be paid
in three years. This taxation was ratified in parliament, which had been
the common practice since the reformation, implying that the clergy have
no legislative power, even over themselves. See 2 and 3 Edward VI. cap.
35.]
[Footnote 21: NOTE U, p. 412. The pope at first gave Cardinal Pole
powers to transact only with regard to the past fruits of the church
lands; but being admonished of the danger attending any attempt towards
a resumption of the lands, he enlarged the cardinal’s powers, and
granted him authority to insure the future possession of the church
lands to the present proprietors. There was only one clause in the
cardinal’s powers that has given occasion for some speculation. An
exception was made of such cases as Pole should think important enough
to merit the being communicated to the holy see. But Pole simply
ratified the possession of all the church lands; and his commission had
given him full powers to that purpose. See Harleian Miscellany, vol.
vii. p. 264, 266. It is true, some councils have declared, that it
exceeds even the power of the pope to alienate any church lands; and the
pope, according to his convenience or power, may either adhere to, or
recede from, this declaration. But every year gave solidity to the right
of the proprietors of church lands, and diminished the authority of
the popes; so that men’s dread of popery in subsequent times was more
founded on party or religious zeal, than on very solid reasons.]
[Footnote 22: NOTE V, p. 448. The passage of Holingshed, in the
Discourse prefixed to his History, and which some ascribe to Harrison,
is as follows. Speaking of the increase of luxury: “Neither do I speak
this in reproach, of any man, God is my judge; but to show that I do
rejoice rather to see how God has blessed us with his good gifts, and to
behold how that in a time wherein all things are grown to most excessive
prices, we do yet find the means to obtain and archive such furniture
as heretofore has been impossible. There are old men yet dwelling in the
village where I remain, which have noted three things to be marvellously
altered in England, within their sound remembrance. One is, the
multitude of chimnies lately erected; whereas in their young days, there
were not above two or three, if so many, in most uplandish towns of
the realm; (the religious houses and manor-places of their lords always
excepted, and peradventure some great personage;) but each made his fire
against a reredosse in the hall where he dined and dressed his meat. The
second is, the great amendment of lodging; for, said they, our fathers
and we ourselves have lain full oft upon straw pallettes covered only
with a sheet under coverlets made of dagswaine or hopharlots, (I use
their own terms,) and a good round log under their head instead of a
bolster. If it were so, that the father or the goodman of the house had
a matrass or flock-bed, and thereto a sack of chaff to rest his head
upon, he thought himself to be as well lodged as the lord of the town,
so well were they contented. Pillows, said they, were thought meet only
for women in childbed. As for servants, if they had any sheet above
them, it was well; for seldom had they any under their bodies to keep
them from the prickling straws, that ran oft through the canvass,
and razed their hardened hydes. The third thing they tell of is, the
exchange of treene platers (so called, I suppose, from tree or wood)
into pewter, and wooden spoons into silver or tin. For so common were
all sorts of treene vessels in old time, that a man should hardly find
four pieces of pewter (of which one was peradventure a salt) in a good
farmer’s house.” Description of Britain, chap. x. Again, in chap. xvi.:
“In times past, men were contented to dwell in houses builded of sallow,
willow, etc.; so that the use of the oak was in a manner dedicated
wholly unto churches, religious houses, princes’ palaces, navigation,
etc., but now sallow, etc., are rejected, and nothing but oak any where
regarded. And yet see the change; for when our houses were builded of
willow, then had we oaken men; but now that our houses are come to
be made of oak, our men are not only become willow, but a great many
altogether of straw, which is a sore alteration. In these the courage of
the owner was a sufficient defence to keep the house in safety; but now
the assurance of the timber must defend the men from robbing. Now have
we many chimnies; and yet out tender**** complain of rheums, catarrhs,
and poses; then had we none but reredosses, and our heads did never
ache. For as the smoke in those days was supposed to be a sufficient
hardening for the timber of the house, so it was reputed a far better
medicine to keep the good man and his family from the quacke or pose,
wherewith, as then, very few were acquainted.” Again, in chap. xviii.:
“Our pewterers in time past employed the use of pewter only upon dishes
and pots, and a few other trifles for service; whereas now, they are
grown into such exquisite cunning, that they can in manner imitate by
infusion any form or fashion of cup, dish, salt, or bowl or goblet,
which is made by goldsmith’s craft, though they be never so curious, and
very artificially forged. In some places beyond the sea, a garnish of
good flat English pewter (I say flat, because dishes and platers in
my time begin to be made deep, and like basons, and are indeed more
convenient, both for sauce and keeping the meat warm) is almost esteemed
so precious as the like number of vessels that are made of fine silver.”
If the reader is curious to know the hour of meals in Queen Elizabeth’s
reign, he may learn it from the same author. “With us the nobility,
gentry, and students, do ordinarily go to dinner at eleven before
noon, and to supper at five, or between five and six at afternoon. The
merchants dine and sup seldom before twelve at noon and six at night,
especially in London. The husbandmen dine also at high noon, as they
call it, and sup at seven or eight; but out of term in our universities
the scholars dine at ten.”
Froissart mentions waiting on the duke of Lancaster at five o’clock in
the afternoon, when he had supped. These hours are still more early.
It is hard to tell, why, all over the world, as the age becomes more
luxurious, the hours become later. Is it the crowd of amusements that
push on the hours gradually? or are the people of fashion better pleased
with the secrecy and silence of nocturnal hours, when the industrious
vulgar are all gone to rest? In rude ages, men have few amusements or
occupations but what daylight affords them.}
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