History of the Reformation in the Sixteenth Century Volume V Part 13

A very different question, however, filled the mind of the covetous Henry VII. Must he restore to Spain the two hundred thousand ducats which formed Catherine's dowry? Shall this rich heiress be permitted to marry some rival of England? To prevent so great a misfortune the king conceived the project of uniting Henry to Arthur's widow. The most serious objections were urged against it. "It is not only inconsistent with propriety," said Warham, the primate, "but the will of G.o.d himself is against it. It is declared in His law that _if a man shall take his brother's wife, it is an unclean thing_, (Lev. xx. 21); and in the Gospel John Baptist says to Herod: _It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife_," (Mark vi. 18.) Fox, bishop of Winchester, suggested that a dispensation might be procured from the pope, and in December 1503 Julius II granted a bull declaring that for the sake of preserving union between the catholic princes he authorized Catherine's marriage with the brother of her first husband, _accedente forsan copula carnali_. These four words, it is said, were inserted in the bull at the express desire of the princess. All these details will be of importance in the course of our history. The two parties were betrothed, but not married in consideration of the youth of the prince of Wales.

The second marriage projected by Henry VII was ushered in with auspices still less promising than the first. The king having fallen sick and lost his queen, looked upon these visitations as a divine judgment.[226] The nation murmured, and demanded whether it was in the pope's power to permit what G.o.d had forbidden.[227] The young prince, being informed of his father's scruples and of the people's discontent, declared, just before attaining his majority (27th June 1505), in the presence of the bishop of Winchester and several royal counsellors, that he protested against the engagement entered into during his minority, and that he would never make Catherine his wife.

[226] Morysin's Apomaxis.

[227] Herbert, Life of Henry VIII, p. 18.

[Sidenote: PROCLAMATION OF HENRY VIII.]

His father's death, which made him free, made him also recall this virtuous decision. In 1509, the hopes of the learned seemed about to be realized. On the 9th of May, a hea.r.s.e decorated with regal pomp, bearing on a rich pall of cloth of gold the mortal remains of Henry VII with his sceptre and his crown, entered London, followed by a long procession. The great officers of state, a.s.sembled round the coffin, broke their staves and cast them into the vault, and the heralds cried with a loud voice: "G.o.d send the n.o.ble King Henry VIII long life."[228] Such a cry perhaps had never on any previous occasion been so joyfully repeated by the people. The young king gratified the wishes of the nation by ordering the arrest of Empson and Dudley, who were charged with extortion; and he conformed to the enlightened counsels of his grandmother, by choosing the most able ministers, and placing the archbishop of Canterbury as lord-chancellor at their head.

Warham was a man of great capacity. The day was not too short for him to hear ma.s.s, receive amba.s.sadors, consult with the king in the royal closet, entertain as many as two hundred guests at his table, take his seat on the woolsack, and find time for his private devotions. The joy of the learned surpa.s.sed that of the people. The old king wanted none of their praises or congratulations, for fear he should have to pay for them; but now they could give free course to their enthusiasm.

Montjoy p.r.o.nounced the young king "divine;" the Venetian amba.s.sador likened his port to Apollo's, and his n.o.ble chest to the torso of Mars; he was lauded both in Greek and Latin; he was hailed as the founder of a new era, and Henry seemed desirous of meriting these eulogiums. Far from permitting himself to be intoxicated by so much adulation, he said to Montjoy: "Ah! how I should like to be a scholar!"--"Sire," replied the courtier, "It is enough that you show your regard for those who possess the learning you desire for yourself."--"How can I do otherwise," he replied with earnestness; "without them we hardly exist!" Montjoy immediately communicated this to Erasmus.

[228] Leland's Collectanea, vol. iv. p. 309.

[Sidenote: ENTHUSIASM OF THE LEARNED.]

Erasmus!--Erasmus!--the walls of Eltham, Oxford, and London resounded with the name. The king could not live without the learned; nor the learned without Erasmus. This scholar, who was an enthusiast for the young king, was not long in answering to the call. When Richard Pace, one of the most accomplished men of that age, met the learned Dutchman at Ferrara, the latter took from his pocket a little box which he always carried with him: "You don't know," he said, "what a treasure you have in England: I will just show you;" and he took from the box a letter of Henry's expressing in Latin of considerable purity the tenderest regard for his correspondent.[229] Immediately after the coronation Montjoy wrote to Erasmus: "Our Henry _Octavus_, or rather _Octavius_, is on the throne. Come and behold the new star.[230] The heavens smile, the earth leaps for joy, and all is flowing with milk, nectar, and honey.[231] Avarice has fled away, liberality has descended, scattering on every side with gracious hand her bounteous largesses. Our king desires not gold or precious stones, but virtue, glory, and immortality."

[229] Scripsit ad me suapte manu litteras amantissimas. Erasm. Vita ad Ep.

[230] Ut hoc novum sidus aspicias. Ibid. p. 277: an expression of Virgil, speaking of the deified Augustus.

[231] Ridet aether, exultat terra, omnia lactis, omnia mellis, omnia nectaris sunt plena. Ibid.

In such glowing terms was the young king described by a man who had seen him closely. Erasmus could resist no longer: he bade the pope farewell, and hastened to London, where he met with a hearty welcome from Henry. Science and power embraced each other: England was about to have its Medici; and the friends of learning no longer doubted of the regeneration of Britain.

[Sidenote: CROMWELL AND THE POPE.]

Julius II, who had permitted Erasmus to exchange the white frock of the monks for the black dress of the seculars,[232] allowed him to depart without much regret. This pontiff had little taste for letters, but was fond of war, hunting, and the pleasures of the table. The English sent him a dish to his taste in exchange for the scholar.

Sometime after Erasmus had left, as the pope was one day reposing from the fatigues of the chase, he heard voices near him singing a strange song. He asked with surprise what it meant.[233] "It is some Englishmen," was the answer, and three foreigners entered the room, each bearing a closely-covered jar, which the youngest presented on his knees. This was Thomas Cromwell, who appears here for the first time on the historic scene. He was the son of a blacksmith of Putney; but he possessed a mind so penetrating, a judgment so sound, a heart so bold, ability so consummate, such easy elocution, such an accurate memory, such great activity, and so able a pen, that the most brilliant career was foreboded him. At the age of twenty he left England, being desirous to see the world, and began life as a clerk in the English factory at Antwerp. Shortly after this two fellow-countrymen from Boston came to him in their embarra.s.sment. "What do you want?" he asked them. "Our townsmen have sent us to the pope," they told him, "to get the renewal of the _greater_ and _lesser pardons_, whose term is nearly run, and which are necessary for the repair of our harbour.

But we do not know how to appear before him." Cromwell, prompt to undertake everything, and knowing a little Italian, replied, "I will go with you." Then slapping his forehead, he muttered to himself: "What fish can I throw out as a bait to these greedy cormorants?" A friend informed him that the pope was very fond of dainties. Cromwell immediately ordered some exquisite jelly to be prepared, after the English fashion, and set out for Italy with his provisions and his two companions.

[232] Vestem albam commutavit in nigram. Epp. ad Servat.

[233] The pope suddenly marvelling at the strangeness of the song.

Fox. Acts, v. 364, ed. Lond. 1838.

This was the man who appeared before Julius after his return from the chase. "Kings and princes alone eat of this preserve in England," said Cromwell to the pope. One cardinal, who was a greedier "cormorant"

than his master, eagerly tasted the delicacy. "Try it," he exclaimed, and the pope, relishing this new confectionary, immediately signed the pardons, on condition however that the receipt for the jelly should be left with him. "And thus were the _jelly-pardons_ obtained," says the annalist. It was Cromwell's first exploit, and the man who began his busy career by presenting jars of confectionary to the pope was also the man destined to separate England from Rome.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S COURT.]

The court of the pontiff was not the only one in Europe devoted to gaiety. Hunting parties were as common in London as at Rome. The young king and his companions were at that time absorbed in b.a.l.l.s, banquets, and the other festivities inseparable from a new reign. He recollected however that he must give a queen to his people: Catherine of Aragon was still in England, and the council recommended her for his wife. He admired her piety without caring to imitate it;[234] he was pleased with her love for literature, and even felt some inclination towards her.[235] His advisers represented to him that "Catherine, daughter of the ill.u.s.trious Isabella of Castile, was the image of her mother. Like her, she possessed that wisdom and greatness of mind which win the respect of nations; and that if she carried to any of his rivals her marriage-portion and the Spanish alliance, the long-contested crown of England would soon fall from his head.... We have the pope's dispensation: will you be more scrupulous than he is?"[236] The archbishop of Canterbury opposed in vain: Henry gave way, and on the eleventh of June, about seven weeks after his father's death, the nuptials were privately celebrated. On the twenty-third the king and queen went in state through the city, the bride wearing a white satin dress with her hair hanging down her back nearly to her feet. On the next day they were crowned at Westminster with great magnificence.

[234] Admirabatur quidem uxoris sanct.i.tatem. Sanders. p. 5.

[235] Ut amor plus apud regem posset. Morysin Apom. p. 14.

[236] Herbert's Henry VIII, p. 7. Fuller's Church Hist. Book V. p.

165. Erasm. Ep. ad Amerb. p. 19.

Then followed a series of expensive entertainments. The treasures which the n.o.bility had long concealed from fear of the old king, were now brought out; the ladies glittered with gold and diamonds; and the king and queen, whom the people never grew tired of admiring, amused themselves like children with the splendour of their royal robes.

Henry VIII was the forerunner of Louis XIV. Naturally inclined to pomp and pleasure, the idol of his people, a devoted admirer of female beauty, and the husband of almost as many wives as Louis had adulterous mistresses, he made the court of England what the son of Anne of Austria made the court of France,--one constant scene of amus.e.m.e.nts. He thought he could never get to the end of the riches ama.s.sed by his prudent father. His youth--for he was only eighteen--the gaiety of his disposition, the grace he displayed in all bodily exercises, the tales of chivalry in which he delighted, and which even the clergy recommended to their high-born hearers, the flattery of his courtiers[237]--all these combined to set his young imagination in a ferment. Wherever he appeared, all were filled with admiration of his handsome countenance and graceful figure: such is the portrait bequeathed to us by his greatest enemy.[238] "His brow was made to wear the crown, and his majestic port the kingly mantle,"

adds Noryson.[239]

[237] Tyndale, Obedience of a Christian man (1528).

[238] Eximia corporis forma praeditus, in qua etiam regiae majestatis augusta quaedam species elucebat. (Sanderus de Schism., p. 4.) He was endowed with uncommon gracefulness of person, in which there shone forth a certain august air even of kingly majesty.

[239] Turner. Hist. Engl. i. p. 28.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S DANGER.]

Henry resolved to realize without delay the chivalrous combats and fabulous splendours of the heroes of the Round Table, as if to prepare himself for those more real struggles which he would one day have to maintain against the papacy. At the sound of the trumpet the youthful monarch would enter the lists, clad in costly armour, and wearing a plume that fell gracefully down to the saddle of his vigorous courser; "like an untamed bull," says an historian, "which breaks away from its yoke and rushes into the arena." On one occasion, at the celebration of the queen's churching, Catherine with her ladies was seated in a tent of purple and gold, in the midst of an artificial forest, strewn with rocks and variegated with flowers. On a sudden a monk stepped forward, wearing a long brown robe, and kneeling before her, begged permission to run a course. It was granted, and rising up he threw aside his coa.r.s.e frock, and appeared gorgeously armed for the tourney.

He was Charles Brandon, afterwards Duke of Suffolk, one of the handsomest and strongest men in the kingdom, and the first after Henry in military exercises. He was followed by a number of others dressed in black velvet, with wide-brimmed hats on their heads, staffs in their hands, and scarfs across their shoulders ornamented with c.o.c.kle sh.e.l.ls, like pilgrims from St. James of Compostella. These also threw off their disguise, and stood forth in complete armour. At their head was Sir Thomas Boleyn, whose daughter was fated to surpa.s.s in beauty, greatness, and misfortune, all the women of England. The tournament began. Henry, who has been compared to Amadis in boldness, to the lion hearted Richard in courage, and to Edward III in courtesy, did not always escape danger in these chivalrous contests. One day the king had forgotten to lower his vizor, and Brandon, his opponent, setting off at full gallop, the spectators noticed the oversight, and cried out in alarm. But nothing could stop their horses: the two cavaliers met. Suffolk's lance was shivered against Henry, and the fragments struck him in the face. Every one thought the king was dead, and some were running to arrest Brandon, when Henry, recovering from the blow which had fallen on his helmet, recommenced the combat, and ran six new courses amid the admiring cries of his subjects. This intrepid courage changed as he grew older into unsparing cruelty; and it was this young tiger, whose movements were then so graceful, that at no distant day tore with his b.l.o.o.d.y fangs the mother of his children.

CHAPTER XI.

The Pope excites to War--Colet's Sermon at St. Paul's--The Flemish Campaign--Marriage of Louis XII and Princess Mary--Letter from Anne Boleyn--Marriage of Brandon and Mary--Oxford--Sir Thomas More at Court--Attack upon the Monasteries--Colet's Household--He preaches Reform--The Greeks and Trojans.

[Sidenote: THE POPE EXCITES TO WAR.]

A message from the pope stopped Henry in the midst of these amus.e.m.e.nts. In Scotland, Spain, France, and Italy, the young king had nothing but friends; a harmony which the papacy was intent on disturbing. One day, immediately after high-ma.s.s had been celebrated, the archbishop of Canterbury, on behalf of Julius II laid at his feet a golden rose, which had been blessed by the pope, anointed with holy oil, and perfumed with musk.[240] It was accompanied by a letter saluting him as head of the Italian league. The warlike pontiff having reduced the Venetians, desired to humble France, and to employ Henry as the instrument of his vengeance. Henry, only a short time before, had renewed his alliance with Louis XII; but the pope was not to be baffled by such a trifle as that, and the young king soon began to dream of rivalling the glories of Crecy, Poitiers, and Agincourt. To no purpose did his wisest councillors represent to him that England, in the most favourable times, had never been able to hold her ground in France, and that the sea was the true field open to her conquests.

Julius, knowing his vanity, had promised to deprive Louis of the t.i.tle of Most Christian king, and confer it upon him. "His holiness hopes that your grace will utterly exterminate the king of France," wrote the king's agent.[241] Henry saw nothing objectionable in this very unapostolic mission, and decided on subst.i.tuting the terrible game of war for the gentler sports of peace.

[240] Odorifico musco aspersam. Wilkins, Concilia, iii. p. 652.

[241] Letter of Cardinal Bembridge. Cotton MSS. Vitell. B. 2, p. 8.

[Sidenote: DEAN COLET'S SERMON.]

In the spring of 1511, after some unsuccessful attempts by his generals, Henry determined to invade France in person. He was in the midst of his preparations when the festival of Easter arrived. Dean Colet had been appointed to preach before Henry on Good Friday, and in the course of his sermon he showed more courage than could have been expected in a scholar, for a spark of the Christian spirit was glowing in his bosom. He chose for the subject of his discourse Christ's victory over death and the grave. "Whoever takes up arms from ambition," said he, "fights not under the standard of Christ, but of Satan. If you desire to contend against your enemies, follow Jesus Christ as your prince and captain, rather than Caesar or Alexander."

His hearers looked at each other with astonishment; the friends of polite literature became alarmed; and the priests, who were getting uneasy at the uprising of the human mind, hoped to profit by this opportunity of inflicting a deadly blow on their antagonists. There were among them men whose opinions we must condemn, while we cannot forbear respecting the zeal for what they believed to be the truth: of this number were Bricot, Fitzjames, and above all Standish. Their zeal, however, went a little too far on this occasion: they even talked of _burning_ the dean.[242] After the sermon, Colet was informed that the king requested his attendance in the garden of the Franciscan monastery, and immediately the priests and monks crowded round the gate, hoping to see their adversary led forth as a criminal.

"Let us be alone," said Henry; "put on your cap, Mr. Dean, and we will take a walk. Cheer up," he continued, "you have nothing to fear. You have spoken admirably of Christian charity, and have almost reconciled me to the king of France; yet, as the contest is not one of choice, but of necessity, I must beg of you in some future sermon to explain this to my people. Unless you do so, I fear my soldiers may misunderstand your meaning." Colet was not a John Baptist, and, affected by the king's condescension, he gave the required explanation. The king was satisfied, and exclaimed: "Let every man have his doctor as he pleases; this man is my doctor, and I will drink his health!" Henry was then young: very different was the fashion with which in after-years he treated those who opposed him.

[242] Dr. Colet was in trouble and should have been burnt. Latimer's Sermons. Parker edition, p. 440.

At heart the king cared little more about the victories of Alexander than of Jesus Christ. Having fitted out his army, he embarked at the end of June, accompanied by his almoner, Wolsey, who was rising into favour, and set out for the war as if for a tournament. Shortly after this, he went, all glittering with jewels, to meet the Emperor Maximilian, who received him in a plain doublet and cloak of black serge. After his victory at the battle of Spurs, Henry, instead of pressing forward to the conquest of France, returned to the siege of Teronenne, wasted his time in jousts and entertainments, conferred on Wolsey the bishopric of Tournay which he had just captured, and then returned to England, delighted at having made so pleasant an excursion.

[Sidenote: MARRIAGE OF PRINCESS MARY.]

Louis XII was a widower in his 53rd year, and bowed down by the infirmities of a premature old age; but being desirous of preventing, at any cost, the renewal of the war, he sought the hand of Henry's sister, the Princess Mary, then in her 16th year. Her affections were already fixed on Charles Brandon, and for him she would have sacrificed the splendour of a throne. But reasons of state opposed their union. "The princess," remarked Wolsey, "will soon return to England a widow with a royal dowry." This decided the question. The disconsolate Mary, who was an object of universal pity, embarked at Dover with a numerous train, and from Boulogne, where she was received by the duke of Angouleme, she was conducted to the king, elated at the idea of marrying the handsomest princess in Europe.