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M E M 1 11 S 
 
 OF THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 ANNE BOLEYN, 
 
 QUEEN OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 £\l•^.7*\>e.\V^ Oo1\yij 
 
 By miss BENGER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MEMOIRS OF MRS. ELIZABETH HAMILTON." 
 
 FROM THE THIRD LONDON EDITION. 
 
 with a memoir of the author, 
 By miss AIKIN. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 A. HART, LATE CAREY and HART, 
 
 lie CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 1850. 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 MISS BENGEU. 
 
 Elizabeth Ogilvy Benger, whose life affords an inte- 
 resting example of female genius, struggling into day, 
 through obstacles which might well have daunted even the 
 bolder energies of manly enterprise, was born in the city 
 of Wells, in February, 1778. She was an only child ; a 
 circumstance which her affectionate heart always led her 
 to regard as a misfortune. Her father, somewhat late in 
 life, was impelled by an adventurous disposition to give up 
 commerce and enter the navy, and ultimately became a 
 purser. In consequence of this change he removed his 
 family to Chatham, when his daughter was four years of 
 age ; and, — with the exception of about two years' resi- 
 dence at Portsmouth, — Chatham or Rochester was her 
 abode till the year 1797. An ardour for knowledge, a 
 passion for literary distinction, disclosed itself with the 
 first dawnings of reason, and never left her. Her connec- 
 tions were not literary ; and her sex, no less than her 
 situation, debarred her from the most effective means of 
 mental cultivation. She has been heard to relate, that in 
 
 the tormenting want of books which she suffered during 
 
 (iii) 
 
iv MEMOIR OF 
 
 her childhood, it was one of her resources to plant herself 
 at the window of the only bookseller's shop in the place, to 
 read the open pages of the new publications there dis- 
 played, and to return again, day after day, to examine 
 whether, by good fortune, a leaf of any of them might 
 have been turned over. But the bent of her mind was so 
 decided, that a judicious friend prevailed upon her mother 
 at length to indulge it ; and at twelve years of age she 
 received instruction in the Latin language. At thirteen 
 she wrote a poem of considerable length, called " The Fe- 
 male Geniad," in which, imperfect as it necessarily was, 
 strong traces of opening genius were discerned. With the 
 sanction of her father it appeared in print, dedicated to 
 the late Lady de Crespigny, to whom she was introduced 
 by her uncle. Sir David Ogilvy, and from whom she after- 
 wards received much kind and flattering attention. 
 
 Her father contemplated her literary progress with 
 delight and with pride ; and on his appointment to the 
 lucrative situation of purser on board Admiral Lord 
 Keith's own ship, it was his first care to direct that no ex- 
 pense should be spared in procuring instruction for his 
 daughter, in every branch of knowledge which it might 
 be her wish to acquire: but the death of this indulgent 
 parent in the East Indies, within a year afterwards, blighted 
 the fair prospect now opening upon her. Cares and diffi- 
 culties succeeded ; the widow and the orphan, destitute of 
 effectual protection in the prosecution of their just claims, 
 became the victims of fraud and rapacity, and a very 
 
MISS BENGER. V 
 
 slender provision was all that could be secured from the 
 wreck of their hopes and fortunes. In the course of the 
 following year, 1797, they removed to the neighbourhood 
 of Devizes, where, together with the society of affectionate 
 friends and kind relations. Miss Benger also enjoyed free 
 access to a well-stored library. But that intense longing 
 for the society of the eminent and the excellent, which 
 always distinguished her, could only be gratified, as she 
 was sensible, in London ; and thither, about the beginning 
 of 1800, her mother was induced to remove. Here, 
 partly through the favour of Lady de Crespigny, partly 
 by means of her early intimates, Miss Jane and Miss 
 Anna Maria Porter, but principally through the zealous 
 friendship of Miss Sarah Wesley, who had already dis- 
 covered her in her retirement, she almost immediately 
 found herself ushered into society where her merit was 
 fully appreciated and warmly fostered. The late Dr. 
 George Gregory, well known in the literary world, and 
 his admirable wife, a lady equally distinguished by talents 
 and virtues, were soon amongst the firmest and most 
 affectionate of her friends. By them she was gratified 
 with an introduction to Miss Elizabeth Hamilton, of whom 
 she afterwards gave so interesting a memoir ; to the 
 author of the Pleasures of Hope ; to Mrs. Barbauld, and 
 to the late Dr. Aikin, with the different members of whose 
 family, but especially with her who now inscribes, with an 
 aching heart, this slender record of her genius and virtues, 
 
 she contracted an affectionate intimacy, never interrupted 
 1* 
 
vi MEMOIR OF 
 
 through a period of more than twenty years, and only 
 severed, at length, by the stroke which all things mortal 
 must obey. Another, and a most valuable connection, 
 which she afterwards formed, was with the family of R. 
 Smirke, Esq., R. A., in whose accomplished daughter she 
 found an assiduous and faithful friend, whose offices of love 
 followed her, without remission, to the last. Mrs. Inch- 
 bald, Mrs. Joanna Baillie, the excellent Mrs. Weddell, 
 and many other names distinguished in literature or in 
 society, might be added to the list of those who delighted 
 in her conversation, and took an interest in her happiness. 
 Her circle of acquaintance extended with her fame, and 
 with the knowledge of her excellent qualities ; and she was 
 often enabled to assemble, as guests at her humble tea- 
 table, names whose celebrity would have insured attention 
 in the proudest saloons of the metropolis. 
 
 Early in her literary career, Miss Benger had been 
 induced to fix her hopes of fame on the drama, for which 
 her genius appeared in many respects well adapted ; but 
 after ample experience of the anxieties, delays, and disap- 
 pointments which in this age sicken the heart of almost 
 every candidate for celebrity in this department, she tried 
 her powers in other attempts, and produced, first, her 
 poem on the Abolition of the Slave Trade, and afterwards 
 two novels, published anonymously. Many passages in 
 the poem are replete with sentiment and imagination, and 
 there are lines of great harmony and beauty ; but a sug- 
 gested subject is unfavourable to inspiration, and the 
 
MISS BENGER. vii 
 
 piece would have borne condensation with advantage. Of 
 the novels, Marian, the first and the best, did not obtain 
 the attention which it deserved, and which the name of 
 the author would probably have secured it. The style is 
 eloquent and striking ; the characters have often the air 
 of well-drawn portraits ; the situations are sometimes highly 
 interesting ; and, with many passages of pathos, there are 
 several of genuine humour : the principal failure is in the 
 plot, which, in itself improbable, is neither naturally nor 
 perspicuously unfolded. The same general character 
 applies to Yalsinore, or The Heart and the Fancy ; but 
 of this piece the story is equally faulty, and the interest 
 less highly wrought. No judicious person, however, could 
 peruse either work without perceiving that the artist was 
 superior to the work ; that the excellencies were such as 
 genius only could reach, the deficiencies what a more accu- 
 rate and comprehensive knowledge of the laws of compo- 
 sition, or a more patient application of the labour of cor- 
 rection, might without difficulty have supplied. No one, 
 in fact, was more sensible than herself, that she had not 
 yet attained the power of doing justice, in the execution, to 
 the first conceptions of her fancy ; and finding herself in 
 many respects unfavourably circumstanced for acquiring 
 that mastery in literary skill, she prudently turned her 
 attention from fictitious narrative to biography and criti- 
 cism ; rising in her later works to the department of his- 
 tory. Between the years 1814 and 1825, she gave to the 
 world, in rapid succession. Remarks on Mad. de Stacl's 
 
viii MEMOIR OF 
 
 Germany ; Memoir of Mrs. Hamilton ; Memoirs of Jolin 
 Tobin (author of the Honej-moon) ; Notices of Klopstock 
 and his Friends, prefixed to a translation of their Letters 
 from the German ; and the Life of Anne Boleyn, and 
 Memoirs of Mary Queen of Scots, and of the Queen of 
 Bohemia. Most of these works obtained deserved popu- 
 larity ; and she would probably have added to her reputa- 
 tion by her projected Memoirs of Henry IV. of France, 
 had life and health been lent her for their completion. 
 
 But to those who knew her and enjoyed her friendship, 
 her writings, pleasing and beautiful as they are, were the 
 smallest part of her merit and her attraction. Endowed 
 with the warmest and most grateful of human hearts, she 
 united to the utmost delicacy and nobleness of sentiment, 
 active benevolence, which knew no limit but the furthest 
 extent of her ability, and a boundless enthusiasm for the 
 good and fair, wherever she discovered them. Her lively 
 imagination, and the flow of eloquence which it inspired, 
 aided by one of the most melodious of voices, lent an inex- 
 pressible charm to her conversation, which was heightened 
 by an intuitive discernment of character, rare in itself, and 
 still more so in combination with such fertility of fancy 
 and ardency of feeling. As a companion, whether for the 
 graver or the gayer hour, she had indeed few equals ; and 
 her constant forgetfulness of self, and unfailing sympathy 
 for others, rendered her the general friend, and favourite, 
 and confidant, of persons of both sexes, all classes, and all 
 ages. Many would have concurred in judgment with Ma- 
 
MISS BENGER. UB 
 
 dame de Stael, when she pronounced Miss Benger the 
 most interesting woman she had seen during her visit to 
 England. 
 
 With so much to admire and love, she had everything 
 to esteem. Of envy or jealousy there was not a trace in 
 her composition : her probity, veracity, and honour, de- 
 rived, as she gratefully acknowledged, from the early pre- 
 cepts of an assiduous and most respectable mother, were 
 perfect. Though not less free from pride than from 
 vanity, her sense of independence was such, that no one 
 could fix upon her the slightest obligation capable of 
 lowering her in any eyes ; and her generous propensity to 
 seek those most who needed her ofiices of friendship, ren- 
 dered her, in the intercourses of society, much oftener the 
 obliger than the party obliged. No one was more scru- 
 pulously just to the characters and performances of others ; 
 no one more candid; no one more deserving of every 
 kind of reliance. 
 
 It is gratifying to reflect to how many hearts her unas- 
 sisted merit found its way. Few persons have been more 
 widely or deeply deplored in their sphere of acquaintance ; 
 but even those who knew and loved her best, could not 
 but confess that their regrets were purely selfish. To her 
 the pains of sensibility seemed to be dealt in even fuller 
 measure than its joys : her childhood and early youth 
 were consumed in a solitude of mind, and under a sense 
 of the contrariety between her genius and her fate, which 
 had rendered them sad and full of bitterness ; her maturer 
 
X MEMOIR OF MISS BENGER. 
 
 years were tried by cares, privations, and disappointments, 
 and not seldom by unfeeling slights or thankless neglect. 
 The irritability of her constitution, aggravated by in- 
 quietude of mind, had rendered her life one long disease. 
 Old age, which she neither wished nor expected to attain, 
 might have found her solitary and ill provided — now she 
 has taken "the wings of the dove, to flee away and be 
 at rest." 
 
 A short but painful illness terminated her career, on 
 January 9th, 1827. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In the records of biography, there is, perhaps, no cha- 
 racter that more forcibly exemplifies the vanity of human 
 ambition than that of Anne Boleyn : elevated to a throne, 
 devoted to a scafi'old, she appears to have been invested 
 with royalty only to offer an example of humiliating degra- 
 dation, such as modern Europe had never witnessed. But, 
 abstracted from those signal vicissitudes of fortune, which, 
 in every age and country, must awaken curiosity and sym- 
 pathy, there are various circumstances connected with the 
 history of Anne Boleyn, which are calculated to create 
 peculiar interest in the English reader. It would be 
 ungrateful to forget that the mother of Queen Elizabeth 
 was the early and zealous advocate of the Reformation, 
 and that by her efforts to dispel the gloom of ignorance 
 and superstition, she conferred on the English people a 
 benefit, of which, in the present advanced state of know- 
 ledge and civilization, it would be difficult to conceive or 
 to appreciate the real value and importance. But the most 
 prominent feature of her destiny is, that the abolition of 
 
 (11) 
 
xii PREFACE. 
 
 papal supremacy in this country must be referred to her 
 influence ; and that the only woman ever permitted to effect 
 a change in our national and political institutions, has 
 been instrumental in introducing and establishing a better 
 system of things, whose effects have altered the whole 
 fabric of society. On this single circumstance, perhaps, is 
 founded the diversity of opinion which to this day prevails 
 respecting the moral qualities of Anne Boleyn, alternately 
 the subject of unqualified censure and extravagant praise. 
 Catholic bigots and Protestant enthusiasts, calumniators 
 and encomiasts, historians and poets, have alike conspired 
 to create and transmit of her an unfaithful and even a 
 distorted portraiture. It is, however, worthy of remark, 
 that whilst she is reproached for real virtues by Bayle, and 
 by Marot stigmatised for pretended vices, Calderon, the 
 great dramatic poet of Spain, leaves her chastity unim- 
 peached. In his fine play, "The Schism of England," 
 she is invested with the ambition of Lady Macbeth ; but 
 her ruin is attributed to Henry's fantastic and impetuous 
 jealousy. 
 
 In offering these Memoirs to the public, the author has 
 to lament the absence of some important documents 
 respecting Anne Boleyn's early life, which, till lately, 
 were extant in the libraries of Paris and Berne, but which 
 are now transferred to other seats of learning and science, 
 where they may perhaps continue to be inaccessible. To 
 introduce history without an obvious necessity, formed no 
 part of the original plan ; but it appeared impossible to 
 
PREFACE. xiii 
 
 separate the details of Anne Boleyn's fate from those 
 great political events, in which she was destined to per- 
 form an important part : still less could her character and 
 conduct be understood without preliminary sketches of the 
 customs and manners of the age ; to illustrate which, the 
 minute description of Queen Mary's bridal progress, and 
 other details, derived from our old garrulous chroniclers, 
 have been introduced. 
 
 Whatever may be the defects in the plan or execution 
 of this little work, the author ventures to hope she shall 
 obtain credit for the assertion, that she has been actuated 
 by no motives inconsistent with the spirit of candour and 
 a humble but unaffected love of truth. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 HENRY THE EIGHTH, AND HIS COURT AND CHARACTER 
 IN YOUTH. 
 
 EDUCATION OF HENRY VIII. — CHARACTER OF CATHERINE OF ARRAGON — 
 CORONATION OF HENRY AND CATHERINE — FESTIVITIES — MANNERS AND 
 ETIQUETTE OF THE COURT — BIRTH OF A PRINCE — CELEBRATION OF THE 
 EVENT — 3IANNERS OF THE ENGLISH — STATE OF THE CLERGY — SIR THOMAS 
 MORE .... - 19 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OF THE DESCENT OF THE BOLEYNES. — THE INTRODUCTION 
 OF ANN BOLEYN AT THE FRENCH COURT. 
 
 SIR GEOFFREY BOLEYNE — SIR WILLIAM BOLEYNE — THE EARL OF SURREY 
 — SIR THOMAS BOLEYN — ANNE BULLEN — INFANCY — THE LADY ELIZABETH 
 — FOX — WOLSEY — HIS MISSION TO FRANCE — HIS CHARACTER — HIS RISE — 
 WAR WITH FRANCE — CATHERINE'S REGENCY — CHARLES BRANDON — ED- 
 MUND DE LA POLE — HIS DEATH — LETTER OF CATHERINE OF ARRAGON" 
 MAXIMILIAN — BATTLE OF SPURS — LETTER OF CATHERINE — WOLSEY A BI- 
 SHOP — THE DUCHESS OF SURREY — WAR WITH SCOTLAND — BATTLE OF FLOD- 
 DEN FIELD — SIR CHARLES SOMERSET — HENRY's FAVOURITES — A TOURNA- 
 MENT — THE PRINCESS MARY AFFIANCED TO LOUIS XII. — ANNE A MAID OF 
 
 HONOUR MARY's FOLLOWERS — THE VOYAGE THE LANDING — CAVALCADE 
 
 — INTERVIEW WITH THE KING — LOUIS XII. — MARY's MARRIAGE HER LET- 
 TER TO HENRY — HER ATTENDANTS DISMISSED — THE TOURNAMENT — DEATH 
 
 OF LOUIS XII. — Mary's second marriage — her pardon by henry — 
 
 HER DOMESTIC HAPPINESS 
 
 (15) 
 
 45 
 
xvi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LETTERS AND EMBASSIES OF SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. — THE 
 FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 
 
 QUEEN CLAUDE — ANNE's DUTIES AS MAID OF HONOUR — HER POSITION — 
 EDUCATION OF YOUNG NOBLES — ANNe's CHILDHOOD — ROCHFORD HALL — 
 ANNE's character — HER ACQUIREMENTS — MARGARET OF ALAN5ON — HER 
 CHARACTER — ANNe's ADVANTAGES — FRENCH EMBASSY — A BANQUET — SIR 
 THOMAS BOLEYN's MISSION — WOLSEY's AMBITION — HIS MUNIFICENCE — HIS 
 SCHEMES — SIR THOMAS BOLEYN — HIS MISSION TO FRANCE — HIS LETTERS TO 
 THE KING — ELECTION OF CHARLES V. AS EMPEROR OF GERMANY — BOLEYN's 
 LETTER — BIRTH OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS — BOLEYN's DILIGENCE — CON- 
 DITION OF HENRY AND FRANCIS — VISIT OF CHARLES V. — HENRY's VISIT TO 
 FRANCIS — THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD — MEETING OF HENRY AND 
 FRANCIS — henry's DRESS — 'AMUSEMENTS — EXTRAVAGANCE OF THE NO- 
 BLES — THE TWO QUEENS — THE BELLES OF FRANCE — BALLADS — FRANCIS 
 VISITS HENRY — ANNE BOLEYN AT THE MASQUE — END OF THE MEETING AT 
 GUISNES . . 85 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 RETURN OF ANNE BOLEYN TO ENGLAND. — ESTABLISHMENT 
 AT COURT. — ATTACHMENT TO PERCY. — SEPARATION OP 
 THE LOVERS. 
 
 WOLSEY — DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM — HIS TRIAL — WAR WITH FRANCE — 
 ANNE's RETURN TO ENGLAND — ANNE INTHEQUEEN's SERVICE— CHARAC- 
 TER OF CATHERINE — HENRY's GALLANTRY — HE MEETS ANNE — A MASKED 
 BALL — henry's VISIT TO WOLSEY — ANNe's BEAUTY — HER MANNERS — 
 ACCOMPLISHMENTS — MORAL QUALITIES — LUXURY OF THE COURT — MAIDS 
 OF HONOUR — EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND — OLD CASTLES — SERVANTS' 
 AMUSEMENTS — PERCY WOOES ANNE — THE LOVERS SEPARATED — PERCY 
 AND WOLSEY — NORTHUMBERLAND'S LECTURE — ANNE's RESENTMENT . 121 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ANNE BOLEYN's RETIREMENT AT HEVER CASTLE. — RECALL 
 TO COURT. — CELEBRATED BY SIR THOMAS WIATT. — 
 PROGRESS OF HENRY^S ATTACHMENT. 
 
 ANNe's apartment at HEVER CASTLE — THE BOLEYN FAMILY — DISCORD 
 —MARRIAGE OF PERCY — HENRY VISITS HEVER— HER FATHER PROMOTED — 
 
CONTENTS. xvii 
 
 PAGS 
 
 STR WM. CAREY — ANNE RETURNS TO COURT — HER SENTIMENTS TOWARDS 
 
 THE KING SCHOLARS AT COURT — FINEUX DIPLOMACY — LAWYERS — POETS 
 
 AND AUTHORS — WIATT AND SURREY WIATT's ADMIRATION OF ANNE 
 
 — HIS ATTENTIONS — WIATT A PROTESTANT — THE JEWEL — HENRY's GAL- 
 LANTRY — THE KING — CORRESPONDENCE HENRY's LETTERS — ANNe's 
 
 PRUDENCE A GAME AT CARDS — CATHERINE'S FORBEARANCE THE POPE's 
 
 BULL — LAW OF DIVORCE — WOLSEY's POLICY — HENRY's COURTSHIP . 149 
 
 CHAPTER Yl. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT OF THE PROCESS OF DIVORCE. 
 
 WOLSEY's state — HIS DISAPPOINTMENT — BATTLE OF PA VI A — DR. PACE 
 — WOLSEY's INTRIGUES — SIEGE OF ROME — NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRAN- 
 CIS I. — WOLSEY's MISSION TO FRANCE — HIS RETURN — OPINIONS OF THE 
 BISHOPS — ANNE HATED BY WOLSEY — HER PROTESTANTISM — HER LETTER TO 
 WOLSEY — REASONS FOR ANNE's CONDUCT — HER GOOD QUALITIES — WIATT's 
 POEMS — HENRY HOWARD — GEORGE BOLEYN — EMBASSY FROM FRANCE — 
 BANQUET — THE KINg's TENT — HIS TREAT — ALMONER FOX — GARDINER — 
 
 henry's letter — CARDINAL CAMPEGGIO HENRY's DUPLICITY — HIS 
 
 SCRUPLES — RELATIONS OF CATHERINE AND ANNE — CATHERINE'S POPULA- 
 RITY — THE SWEATING SICKNESS — SIR WILLIAM CAREY — SICKNESS OF ANNE 
 
 HER RECOVERY — DISCONTENT OF THE PEOPLE ANNE LEAVES THE 
 
 COURT — POSITION OF HENRY — HENRY's LETTERS TO ANNE — CARDINAL 
 CAMPEGGIO'S NEGOTIATIONS — ILLNESS OF THE POPE — THE CONSISTORIAL 
 COURT — PATHETIC ADDRESS OF CATHERINE — SHE DENIES THE JURISDIC- 
 TION AND QUITS THE COURT 181 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WOLSEY's DISGRACE. — ANNE's CORONATION. 
 
 EDICTS THE COURT — CATHERINE'S FIRMNESS — COMPEGGIO'S DECISION 
 
 — henry's rage — WOLSEY's DISGRACE HIS DECEIT EXPOSED — EFFECTS 
 
 OF THE VERDICT — THE LUTHERANS CRANMER SUMMONED TO COURT 
 
 WOLSEY's ENEMIES — HIS RECEPTION BY THE KING — PERPLEXITY OF ANNE 
 — HER INFLUENCE — FALL OF WOLSEY — HIS RETIREMENT — HIS FINAL DIS- 
 MISSION — HIS CATHOLICISM HIS SUCCESSORS — GARDINER CROMWEL 
 
 MORE — CRANMER — STATE OF MORALS — LUTHER's OPINION — THE UNIVER- 
 SITIES — THE CLERGY AND PARLIAMENT — SATISFACTION OF THE PEOPLE — 
 
 THE REFORMERS ENCOURAGED — REMONSTRANCE DEATH OF WOLSEY 
 
 DISMISSAL OF CATHERINE — EMBARRASSMENT OF HENRY — CRANMER's IN- 
 STRUCTIONS — INTERCOURSE OF HENRY AND ANNE DOMESTIC HABITS OF 
 
 HENRY — CARDINAL DU BELLAl's LETTER — ANNe's OCCUPATIONS — GRAND 
 2* 
 
xviii CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 CEREMONIAL — ANNE CREATED A MARCHIONESS — A FEAST — PROGRESS TO 
 FRANCE — MEETING OF HENRY AND FRANCIS I. — 'HAWKING PARTY — DANCES 
 — MARRIAGE OF ANNE — HER CORONATION — THE EARL AND COUNTESS 
 OF WILTSHIRE 223 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SEQUEL OF THE HISTORY OP QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN- 
 
 CARES OF ROYALTY — THE DUKE OF NORFOLK — THE DUCHESS — ANNe's 
 ATTENDANTS — GARDINER — LUTHER — DESIGNS OF THE REFORMERS — TRAN- 
 SUBSTANTIATION — 'LATIMER — THE COURT — BIRTH OF THE PRINCESS ELIZA- 
 BETH — THE CHRISTENING ELIZABETH'S HOUSEHOLD — SOURCES OF CHA- 
 GRIN — THE NUN OF BOOKING— FATE OF FISHER AND MORE — HENRY's THEO- 
 LOGY ANNE'S PROTECTION OF PROTESTANTS MISSION TO GERMANY — 
 
 HOPES OF AN HEIR — DIMINUTION OF HENRY's AFFECTION — JANE SEYMOUR 
 
 — Catherine's death — discovery of jane's intrigue by anne — ill- 
 ness OF ANNE — DESIGNS OF HENRY — HIS SPIES — LADY ROCHFORD — ANNe's 
 charities — NORRIS AND WESTON — CALUMNIES — TROUBLES OF ANNE — 
 THE king's policy — THE FATAL TOURNAMENT — ARREST OF WESTMORE- 
 LAND AND NORRIS — ANNE ARRESTED — COMMITTED TO THE TOWER — HER 
 
 DEPORTMENT IN PRISON— HER ATTENDANTS HER ANSWER TO HENRY's 
 
 DEMAND OF A CONFESSION — HER LAST LETTER TO THE KING HER SUBSE- 
 QUENT DEPORTMENT — THE JUDICIAL COURT THE TRIAL THE SENTENCE 
 
 ANNE's ADDRESS TO THE DUKE OF NORFOLK — CAUSE OF HER CONDEMNA- 
 TION HER CONDUCT AFTER CONDEMNATION — HER INTERCESSION FOR THE 
 
 PRINCESS ELIZABETH — HER CONVERSATION WITH KINGSTON — HER EXECU- 
 TION — INJUSTICE OF THE SENTENCE 268 
 
 SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS ON THE BOLEYNS 321 
 
 APPENDIX 327 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 HENRY THE EIGHTH, AND HIS COURT AND CHARACTER IN 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Education of Henry VIII. — Character of Catherine of Arragon — Coro- 
 nation of Henry and Catherine — Festivities — Manners and Etiquette 
 of the Court — Birth of a Prince — Celebration of the Event — Manners 
 of the English — State of the Clergy — Sir Thomas More. 
 
 Anne Boleyn, or Bullen, was born in 1507, two years be- 
 fore Henry the Eighth ascended the throne of England : the 
 revolutions of her fortune are indissolubly connected with the 
 changes of that eventful reign, and offer an interesting illustra- 
 tion of those earlier times, in which we discover rather a foreign 
 than a familiar aspect ; features strange to our sympathies, and 
 repulsive to our conceptions of the English character. In con- 
 templating this antiquated portraiture of our country, we are 
 admonished, by certain internal feelings, of the immeasurable 
 distance between us. It is not alone the exterior that creates 
 this impression of remoteness and alienation : imagination might 
 renovate fashions long since decayed, or impart grace to beauty 
 and honour mouldering in oblivion. We could be reconciled to 
 the coat of mail and ponderous spear ; but we recoil from the 
 image of England, entrammelled by ignorance and superstition, 
 abetting persecution and oppression, and submitting with pusil- 
 lanimous baseness to become alternately the minister and the 
 
 (19) 
 
20 CHARACTER OF HENRY VIII. 
 
 victim of tyranny and injustice. Mortified and disgusted^ we 
 are ready to disclaim affinity with a race in whom we discover no 
 indications of those powerful energies; those expansive feelings 
 of justice and humanity, which it is the pride of our national 
 faith to identify with the air we breathe ; but which it should 
 be the part of more enlightened patriotism to ascribe to the 
 benignant influence of truth and liberty. 
 
 In referring to the life of Anne Boleyn, it is scarcely possible 
 not to become aware of our obligations to knowledge and cul- 
 ture; and of the inseparable connection between the interests of 
 morality and the cause of civil and religious freedom. It is 
 worthy of remark; that Henry; however sanguinary and despotic; 
 was not more unprincipled than contemporary princeS; or less 
 esteemed than his immediate predecessors. Of the insurrections 
 that occasionally disturbed his tranquillity; there were scarcely 
 any that originated in generous indignation or patriotic energy : 
 the same people who acquiesced without repugnance in the immo- 
 lation of Edmund de la PolC; and tacitly approved the uncon- 
 stitutional murder of Buckingham; scrupled not to invade the 
 rights of property if they clashed with their favourate pursuits;* 
 or to violate the laws of hospitality whenever their passions 
 were excited by cupidity or prejudice. In condemning the 
 hypocrisy and cruelty of the monarch; it is impossible not to 
 stigmatize the corruption and baseness of the people ; and if 
 
 * In, 1514, the citizens of London sallied forth with shovels and 
 spades, and breaking down the enclosures of garden ground, in the 
 villages of Hoxton, Hackney, and Islington, converted them to a field 
 of archery. See also, in Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth, an 
 account of their disorderly behaviour in 1517, on what was vulgarly 
 called Evil May Day. 
 
EDUCATION OF HENRY VIII. 21 
 
 the despotism of Henry provoke execration^ the submission of 
 his subjects must equally excite contempt. During the greater 
 part of his reign, it is notorious, that he coveted and possessed 
 popularity in a degree seldom equalled by the most meritorious 
 princes : this flattering homage he owed not to the wisdom of 
 his laws, or the splendour of his achievements, but to social 
 instincts and personal accomplishments, to a certain chivalrous 
 gallantry of carriage, unbounded magnificence, measureless pro- 
 digality, and ostentatious afiability ; above all, perhaps to the 
 address with which, like a skilful actor, he rendered his own 
 vanity and egotism subservient to the gratification of popular 
 taste. Having mounted the throne at the age of eighteen, Henry 
 possessed, in his youth alone, a powerful attraction ; and it was 
 a circumstance highly favourable to his prosperity, that in him 
 were reconciled the opposing factions of York and Lancaster, 
 and in him revived the genuine royalty of the English crown- 
 It is well known, that Henry had received an education 
 superior to what was then usually bestowed on princes: he 
 spoke and wrote with fluency in the French and Latin languages, 
 understood music, was addicted to the study of theology, and, 
 above all, passionately devoted to Thomas Aquinas ; but it was 
 by more elegant and more popular accomplishments that he 
 engaged the affections of his subjects : he loved music, played 
 on several instruments, and was even occasionally a composer ; 
 he danced with incomparable agility ; and in hunting, hawking, 
 and shooting, constantly exhibited his spirit and activity ; but, 
 above all, he jousted with skill ; and to excel in this manly exer- 
 cise, was at once to announce pretensions to strength and 
 courage, to evince a noble emulation with renowned heroes, and 
 challenge by anticipation the honours of military fame. To 
 
22 CHARACTER OF CATHERINE OF ARRAGON. 
 
 enhance tlie value of these advantages, Henry was, confessedly, 
 the handsomest man in his court; and, by his marriage with 
 Catherine of Arragon, gave to the people a queen lovely in per- 
 son and in mind, of exemplary prudence and virtue, and truly 
 , gentle and feminine in her manners. 
 
 During a residence of several years in England, Catherine 
 had been endeared to the people by her unaffected piety and 
 benevolence : and as, like Henry, she possessed considerable 
 learning, she cordially co-operated in his liberal patronage of 
 literature. Educated in the decorous court of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella, she appears not to have ever relished the boisterous 
 amusements and convivial spirit of the English nobility ; but at 
 this period she betrayed nothing like rigour or austerity ; and 
 whilst the gravity of her deportment tempered the exuberant 
 vivacity of Henry's manners, she evinced a tenderness and sen- 
 sibility that irresistibly engaged his affections. Six years of 
 seniority had rather increased than diminished her attractions ; 
 nor can it be doubted, that, during the early part of her mar- 
 riage, she held an undivided empire in her husband's heart. It 
 was, therefore, with a natural and amiable pride, that Henry 
 associated this queen in his coronation, of which the most inde- 
 fatigable chronicler* of the age has left the following lively 
 picture : 
 
 " If I should declare what pain, labour, and diligence, the 
 taylors, embroiderers, and goldsmiths took, both to make and 
 devise garments for lords, ladies, knights, and esquires, and also 
 for decking, trapping, and adorning of coursers, gennets, palfreys, 
 — it were too long to rehearse ; but for a surety, more rich, nor 
 
 -» Hall. 
 
CORONATION FESTIVITIES. 23 
 
 more strange^ nor more curious works, hath not been seen, than 
 were prepared against this coronation. 
 
 "On the 21st day of this month of June, the King came 
 from Greenwich to the Tower, over London Bridge, and so by 
 Grace Church, with whom came many a well-apparelled gentle- 
 man, but in especiall the Duke of Buckingham, which had a 
 goune all of goldsmith's work, very costly, and there the King 
 rested till Saturday next ensuing. 
 
 " Friday the twenty and two day of June, everything being 
 in a readiness for his coronation, his Grace, with the Queen, 
 being in the Tower of London, made there Knightes of the 
 Bathe, to the number of twenty and four, with all the observ- 
 ances and ceremonies to the same belonging. 
 
 "And the morrow following, being Saturday, the 23d 
 day of the said month, his Grace, with the Queen, departed 
 from the Tower through the city of London, against whose 
 coming, the streets where his Grace should pass were hanged 
 with tapistrie and clothe of Arras. And the great part of 
 the south side of Chepe, with cloth of gold, and some part of 
 Cornhill also. And the streets railed and barred on the one side 
 from over against Grace Church, unto Bread Street, in Cheap- 
 side, where every occupation stood in their liveries in order, be- 
 ginning with base and mean occupations, and so ascending to the 
 worshipful craftes ; highest and lastly stood the Mayor with the 
 Aldermen. The goldsmiths' stalls, unto the end of the Old 
 Change, being replenished with virgins in white, with branches 
 of white wax : the priests and clerks in rich copes, with crosses 
 and censers of silver, with censing his Grace and the Queen also 
 as they passed. 
 
 " The features of his body, his goodly personage, his amia- 
 
24 CORONATION FESTIVITIES. 
 
 ble visage, princely countenance^ witli the noble qualities of his 
 royale estate, to every man known, needeth no rehearsal, con- 
 sidering that for lack of cunning I cannot express the gifts of 
 grace and of naturQ^hat God hath endowed him withal : yet, 
 partly to describe his apparel, it is to be noted, his Grace ware 
 in his uppermost apparel a robe of crimson velvet furred with 
 ermine, his jacket or coat of raised gold, the placard embroidered 
 with diamond rubies, emerandes, great pearls, and other rich 
 stones, a great banderike* aboute his neck of great balasses.f 
 The trapper of his horse, damask gold, with a deep purfell of 
 ermyns : his knights and esquires for his body in crimson velvet ; 
 and all the gentlemen, with other of his chapel, and all his offi- 
 cers and household servants were apparelled in scarlet. The 
 barons of the Five Portes bare the canopy, or clothe of estate. 
 For to recite unto you the great estates by name, the order of 
 their going, the number of the lords, spiritual and temporal, 
 knights, esquires, and gentlemen, and of their costly and rich 
 apparel, of several devises and fashions ; who tooke up his horse 
 best, or who was richest besene, it would ask long time, and yet 
 I should omit many things, and fail of the number, for they 
 were very many : wherefore I pass over ; but this I dare well say, 
 there was no lack or scarcity of cloth of gold, cloth of silver 
 broderie, or goldsmiths' work." 
 
 The chronicler then mentions the procession of the nine chil- 
 dren of honour, each mounted on a steed decorated with the 
 name and arms of a province of the king's dominions; an 
 ostentatious display, derived from the brilliant era of Edward 
 the Third, since in addition to Cornwall and Wales, it assumed 
 the fictitious sovereignty of Normandy, Gaseony, Guienne, and 
 
 * Collar. f Rubies. 
 
PROCESSION. 26 
 
 Anjou. The Queen^s retinue appears to have been equally 
 magnificent, and far more attractive. — " In a litter richly orna- 
 mented, sat Catherine, borne by two white palfreys trapped in 
 cloth of gold; her person aj^parelled in white satin embroidered; 
 her long black hair hanging down her back, beautiful and goodly 
 to behold; and on her head a coronal, set with many rich orient 
 stones. 
 
 " Her ladies followed in chariots, a sort of car containing six 
 persons, and the quality of each was designated by the gold or 
 silver tissue habiliments; and with much joy and honour they 
 came to Westminster, where was high preparation made, as well 
 for the coronation, as for the solemn feasts and jousts to be had 
 and done.'^* 
 
 '^What should I speak,^^ continues the chronicler, '^of the 
 sumptuous, fine, and delicate meats prepared for this high and 
 honourable coronation, provided for as well in the parties beyond 
 the seas, as in many and sundry places within this realm, where 
 God so abundantly hath sent such plenty and foison ? or of the 
 honourable order of the services ; the clean handling and break- 
 ing of meats ; the ordering of the dishes, with the plentiful 
 abundance ; so that none of any estate being there did lack, nor 
 no honourable and worshipful person unfeasted?" 
 
 •^ At the dinner the King's estate was on the rigkt hand, and the 
 Queen's on the left ; the cupboard of nine stages. Their noble per- 
 sonages being set, at the bringing in of the first course, the trumpet 
 sounded, and in came the Duke of Buckingham mounted on a courser 
 richly trapped and embroidered, and the Lord Steward likewise, on a 
 horse trapped, came in cloth of gold riding before the service, which 
 was sumptuous, with many subtleties, strange devices, with several 
 poesies, and many dainty dishes. 
 
26 JOUSTS AND MASQUES. 
 
 From the vivacity of his descriptions, it might he supposed 
 that the writer had himself been one of the enviable beings 
 admitted to that unparalleled banquet, which he pronounces to 
 have been more Tionourahle " than that of the great Caesar, whom 
 so many historiographers set out and magnify/' Jousts and 
 masques succeeded; and in these the populace had their full 
 share of enjoyment. It may, perhaps, be doubted, whether the 
 rare and excellent device of the castle, invested by a silvery 
 fountain, and embellished with a flowing vine, imparted half the 
 delight inspired by rivulets of claret and malmsey spouted from 
 the hideous lips of some sphinx-like monster. The supreme 
 object of attraction appears ta have been a mountainous castle, 
 dragged slowly along, in which sat a lady, who, under the im- 
 posing name of Pallas, displayed a crystal shield; and with 
 many grimaces presented six of her scholars to the King, as 
 challengers in the combat. To this redoubtable personage was 
 opposed one equally sublime, the goddess Diana, in whose be- 
 hoof appeared a troop of foresters, who, breathing from their 
 mellow-toned horn a sylvan strain, ushered in the appropriate 
 pageant of a park, within whose chequered pales of green and 
 white were living deer ; but sad was the fate of these victims to 
 pleasure, who were no sooner allowed to escape from their enclo- 
 sure than they were chased by hounds, attacked, and killed 
 almost in the Queen's presence. Such was the refinement, such 
 the humanity of our forefathers ! 
 
 In justice to Henry, it must be admitted, that he was not 
 without capacities for better things ; and that he often displayed 
 considerable address in animating and polishing those puerile 
 amusements, in which he was required to participate. At this 
 juvenile period, the prominent feature of his character was 
 
RUNNING AT THE llLXc;. 27 
 
 vanity, but of that inoffensive cast, apparently springing from 
 exuberance of good humour, which often assumes the expres- 
 sion of benevolence. To outshine his companions was the first 
 object, to delight them the next ; like an actor, he courted popu- 
 lar applause, and in the presence of ambassadors or other dis- 
 tinguished foreigners, this solicitude became more strikingly 
 apparent; but in all his petty struggles for pre-eminence, he 
 secured the good will and inspired the enthusiasm of the people. 
 
 One day an engagement having been made by some of his 
 courtiers to run at the ring for a wager, the King declared his 
 willingness to enter the lists with six companions, the prize being 
 promised to him who, within a certain space of time, should 
 most often reach the goal. At the hour appointed, the ambas- 
 sadors, the court, the ladies, repaired, with the pomp and cere- 
 mony usual on such occasions, to the barrier where at the sound 
 of the trumpet appeared the King and his martial train, each 
 mounted on a mettled courser, clothed in purple velvet and cloth 
 of gold : the royal steed was distinguished by his embroidered 
 drapery, and the gallant plume of feathers pendant from his 
 head, and which rose ambitiously to the saddle of the rider. 
 The signal being given, the coursers flew like lightning : each 
 cavalier ran twelve courses : the youthful monarch struck the 
 ring five times, and finally bore away the prize in triumj^h, 
 abandoning the ornaments of his charger to the applauding 
 multitude. In another public festival at Greenwich, the King 
 challenged all comers to fight with the target; and afterwards 
 exhibited still greater prowess in hurling the spear : nor did the 
 indefatigable prince desist till he had achieved equal honour with 
 the two-handed sword. 
 
 In the present advanced state of civilization, the passion that 
 
2^ THE TOURNAMENT. 
 
 once existed for the fatiguing pleasures of tlie tilting-field miglit 
 appear incredible, Ibut for the reflection that this exercise was 
 reserved exclusively for men of gentle blood, and that it formed 
 a strong and impassable line of demarcation between the higher 
 and lower orders of the community. In the martial exercise of 
 fencing, the young cavalier acquired courtesy and dignity, 
 mingled with that intrepid martial deportment so well calculated 
 to impress respect and to inspire sentiments of awe and defer- 
 ence ; nor was this personal distinction altogether so chimerical 
 as might at first sight be supposed, since the accomplished 
 j ouster, who, under his cumbrous weight of armour, could skil- 
 fully poise the lance or wield the ponderous spear, must unques- 
 tionably have possessed a degree of strength and physical force 
 far beyond the ordinary standard of bravery and vigour ; whilst 
 the consciousness of high pretensions and still higher respon- 
 sibility could not but rouse a desperate courage, which prompted 
 to deeds of unconquerable heroism and deathless fame. With 
 impressions such as these, it is not surprising that a single- 
 handed knight should sometimes perform prodigies of valour 
 which seem almost to authenticate the legends of chivalry, and 
 realize the visions of romance. 
 
 Even to the citizens and minor gentry, who were not allowed 
 to share in the perils and honours of jousting, these exhibitions 
 afforded a rich and inexhaustible source of entertainment. No 
 sooner was a tournament announced, than the city, the court, 
 and the country appeared to receive a simultaneous movement. 
 The tilt-yard was gravelled for the combatants ; a theatre or a 
 booth was erected for the spectators. The steeds were trained 
 and caparisoned; whilst goldsmiths, embroiderers, and various 
 artisans were required to furnish articles of finery and magni- 
 
THE TOURNAMENT. 29 
 
 ficence, invention was racked to supply apposite mottoes, poesies, 
 and devices. "When the eventful day arrived, the most lively 
 interest was created for the respective challengers, or defend- 
 ants; and in the true spirit of speculation, bets were laid on 
 the issue of each succeeding contest. A scrutinizing glance was 
 cast on the balconies, in which the ladies presided, on whose de- 
 meanour shrewd conjectures were hazarded respecting their pri- 
 vate sentiments ', and often were the mysteries of the heart eli- 
 cited by a portentous scarf, or symbolic glove.* Scandal echoed 
 the whisper of malice, and notoriety might thus, by some way- 
 ward chance, be forced on many who never sighed for fame. It 
 was for veteran cavaliers to sit in judgment on the prowess of 
 each adventurous knight, and to prompt or correct the decisions 
 which preceded the distribution of the prizes ; but for the fair 
 dame who presided over the day was exclusively reserved the 
 privilege of bestowing the meed of praise. To win this envied 
 distinction, men of rank and talents frequently expended a 
 year's revenue only to strut about one little day, exulting even 
 in the plaudits of the citizens whom they despised, re-echoed by 
 the shouts of the heralds and the congratulations of the ladies. 
 In the tournament and the masque which usually followed, 
 princes and peers exhibited, like actors, before the people, for whose 
 accommodation booths and benches were erected ; nor did noble 
 and royal dames disdain occasionally to leave their embroidered 
 cushions J and dance,"!" and even act in a pantomimic style, before 
 
 * For those who would become acquainted with the manners of that 
 age, Dr. Nott's Life of Surrey " offers a fund of information and enter- 
 tainment." 
 
 f In this manner Catherine, when Princess of Wales, had danced at 
 Westminster. See Leland's Colloctanoa. 
 3* 
 
80 ROBIN HOOD. 
 
 an immense crowd of vulgar spectators. The habits and manners 
 which during some centuries prevailed in Europe, however arti- 
 ficial or preposterous, served to fill the vacuity incident to uncul- 
 tivated minds, and to relieve the coarse or languid features of 
 domestic life. It is well known, that every knight was supposed 
 to be devoted to some lady, for whose smiles he fought and con- 
 quered, and for whose charms he exacted allegiance. In the 
 time of Henry the Eighth, the names of mistress and servant 
 were often admitted and exchanged by individuals previous to 
 any personal intercourse, and between whom no real attach- 
 ment ever subsisted. It cannot be doubted, but that this inflated 
 style of adoration, though well understood to mean nothing, 
 might often have been adopted when the passion was more 
 genuine than the object was legitimate. The invention of de- 
 vices, favours, emblems, with their concomitants of masques 
 and disguises, the allegorical personifications and melo-dramatic 
 exhibition borrowed from romance, must have been singularly 
 well adapted to facilitate intrigues and to conceal them from de- 
 tection. But, whatever might be the errors or discrepancies be- 
 longing to this Gothic system of manners, it obtained equally 
 in France, in Italy, and Spain, and formed among the European 
 nobility a sort of fellowship not dissimilar to the brotherhood 
 that subsisted in religious orders. 
 
 It was not only in jousting, that Henry presented himself 
 before the public eye. With an affability that reflects equal 
 credit on his good humour and sagacit}^, he adopted the preju- 
 dices, and condescended to the local or traditionary customs, of 
 the people. Not a festival occurred, but was celebrated at court 
 according to primitive usage : sometimes, in a vein of frolic, the 
 king assumed the garb of Robin Hood, the popular outlaw, and 
 
MANNERS OF THE COURT. 81 
 
 in that chosen character once surprised the modest Catherine 
 and her demure ladies, not without creating momentary sensa- 
 tions of terror and confusion. On May-day, it was his pride to 
 rise with the hirk, and, with a train of courtiers splendidly 
 attired in white and silver, to hasten to the woods, from whence 
 he bore home the fragrant bough in triumph. When he quitted 
 Greenwich for Windsor, or the sweet sylvan retreat of Havering 
 Bower,''' he hawked and hunted with the neighbouring gentry, 
 and beguiled his sedentary hours by playing on the flute or the 
 virginal, setting songs to music, or inventing ballets ; nor must 
 it be forgotten, that he even composed two sacred masses, an 
 event which his courtly chronicler records with becoming reve- 
 rence. 
 
 The regularity and decorum generally established in modern 
 courts, had then no existence. Amidst the most ostentatious 
 pomp the distinctions of rank were often discarded, and during 
 certain public festivals, the people seemed, by prescriptive right, 
 to enjoy perfect equality with their sovereign. f 
 
 * In Essex. 
 
 f On May-day, when Henry was returning to Greenwich from his 
 annual expedition to the woods, he met on the road the pageant of a 
 ship -with outspread sails, the master of which, saluting the king and 
 his noble company, announced himself to be a mai-iner, come from 
 many a strange port, to see if any deeds of arms were to be done in 
 the country, that he might report them to other realms. A herald de- 
 manding the name of the ship, the pretended mariner replied, " She is 
 called Fame, and is laden with good renoum.'' Then said the herald, 
 " If you will bring your ship into the bay of Hardiness, you must double 
 the point of Gentleness, and there I shall send a company that will 
 meddle with your merchandise." Here Henry interposing exclaimed, 
 *' Sithens renown is their merchandise, let us buy it if we can." Then 
 
9.9. 
 
 ETIQUETTE. 
 
 It had been an object of solicitude with Henry the Seventh, 
 to establish in his court a regular system of etiquette, and to 
 create for every circumstance connected with his domestic life, 
 a certain degree of interest and sympathy in the people. By the 
 advice of his mother, the celebrated Countess of Derby, certain 
 ordinances were promulgated, regulating the ceremonial to be 
 observed in the christening of a prince or princess, and enforcing 
 the old custom imposed on a queen-consort, previous to the birth 
 of a royal infant, of publicly withdrawing to her chamber.^ 
 
 Although the Countess survived the accession of Henry VIII. 
 but a few months, her memory was still held in veneration ] nor 
 during the dynasty of the Tudors, were her laws permitted to be 
 impugned. In conformity, therefore, with the old custom, Ca- 
 therine, in December (1510), took to her chamber at Richmond 
 
 the ship shot forth a peal of guns, and sailed before the King's com- 
 pany, crowded with flags and banners, till it came to the Tilt-yard. 
 
 * In Leland's Collectanea, we find the following ordinances made by 
 Margaret Countess of Derby, from a manuscript in the Harleian library : 
 — "Her highness's pleasure being understood in what chamber she will 
 be delivered, the same must be hanged with rich cloth of arras, sydes, 
 rowffe, windowes and all, excepte one window, which must be hanged 
 so as she may have light when it pleaseth her ; then must there be set 
 a royale bed, and the flore layed all over and over with carpets, and a 
 cup-borde covered with the same suyte that the chambre is hanged 
 withal." — On entering the great chamber, the Queen was permitted to 
 exercise her own discretion whether she would sit or stand in receiving 
 wine and spices. 
 
 When the Queen had once entered, all individuals of the other sex 
 were formally excluded: none but ladies or female attendants were 
 permitted to approach her presence ; women alone performed the func- 
 tions of panterers, sewers, and butlers ; and the men who assisted passed 
 not bej^ond the vestibule leading to the apartment. 
 
CATHERINE AT RICHMOND. 33 
 
 rather than "Westminster, wishing, perhaps, to escape in part the 
 publicity attached to this ceremony, which, however embellished 
 by pomp and splendour, was calculated to impress the mind with 
 melancholy sentiments.* The birth of a prince on new-year's 
 
 * Of this ceremony, as performed by Elizabeth, the wife of Henry 
 VII., the following description is preserved in Leland's Collectanea. 
 
 "Upon All-allow Even the queene tooke her chamber at Westminster, 
 gretly accompanyed with ladies and gentilwomen; that is to say, the 
 king's mother, the Duchesse of Norfolk, andmany others; ha\ingbefore her 
 the greate parte of the nobles of this royalme present at this parliament. 
 She was led by the Earl of Oxinford and the Earl of Derby. The Re- 
 verend Father in God, the bishop of Excester, song the mass in pontifi- 
 calibus, and after Agnus Dei. Then the queene was led as before. 
 The Earles of Shrewsby and of Kente hylde the towel when the queene 
 toke her rights, and the torches were holden by knights, and after mass 
 accompanyed as before ; when she was commen into hir grete chamber 
 she stode under her cloth of estate, then thir was ordered a voide of 
 espices and sweet wine : that doon, my lord the queene's chamberlain, 
 in very goode wordes, desired, in the queen's name, the people thir 
 present to pray God to send her the goode houre ; and so she departed 
 to her inner chamber, which was hanged and seyled with riche clothe 
 of blue arras, with fleur-de-lys of gold. "In that chambre was a riche 
 bed and palliet, the whiche' palliet had a marvellous riche canope of 
 gold, with velvet pall, garnished with riche red roses ; also there was 
 an autar well furnyshed witli reliques and a cup-borde of nine stages 
 well and richly garnished. Then she recommended her to the good 
 praiers of the lords and my lord her chamberland drew the Travis ; from 
 thenceforth no manner of officer came into the chambre, but ladies and 
 gentlewomen after the old custome. — A few days after this ceremony, 
 however, a French nobleman of the highest rank was, by special favour, 
 admitted to an audience of Her Highness, with whom he found only the 
 Countess of Dei^by and the Queen-dowager Elizabeth." 
 
34 THE HEIR. 
 
 day, afforded a pretext for exhibitions of a more exhilarating 
 aspect. 
 
 The untimely fate of this heir of York and Lancaster might 
 invite the moralist to expatiate on, the vanity of human expecta- 
 tions, hut that the theme is already exhausted, and that the 
 mournful lesson it inculcates is too painfully impressed by every 
 page of human experience. From the moment of his birth, 
 when Catherine with a mother's pride presented him as a new- 
 year's gift to her delighted lord, he had been an object of almost 
 idolatrous love and homage.* Innumerable benedictions were 
 showered on his unconscious head, and the prayers of a generous 
 people unavailingly offered for his health and prosperity. Among 
 the feasts and festivals in honour of his birth, was one, of which 
 the memory long survived the term of his ephemeral existence, 
 and in which may be discerned some faint indications of im- 
 proving taste. f 
 
 '^ The prince expired on the 22d of February. " The King," says 
 Hall, " took this sad chance wondrous wisely; and, the more to com- 
 fort the Queen, he dissembled the matter, and made no great mourn- 
 ing outwardly; but the Queen, like a natural woman, made much 
 lamentation." • 
 
 •f "At Westminster," says Hall, "solemn jousts were proclaimed 
 in honor of the Queen ; and on the twelfth of February, the King and 
 his three aids or supporters, Sir Thomas Knevet, the Earl of Devon- 
 shire, and Sir Edward Neville, entered the hall, each armed cap-a- 
 pee, with a fictitious name quartered on his shield. To the Earl was as- 
 signed the allegorical appellation of Bo7i Vouloir ; Sir Thomas Knevet 
 was designated by Bon Espoir ; and Sir Edward Neville by Vaillant 
 Desir ; whilst the King, the universal challenger and enterpriser, 
 could be nothing less than Coeur Loyal. By a fantastical device, 
 the tablet in which the names of these quatre chevaliers de la fortt 
 were inscribed, was suspended on an artificial tree, to which the fol- 
 
PROCESSION. 35 
 
 '^On the morrow, after dinner/' says the chronicler, "the 
 company assembled in the hall, when, at the sound of the 
 trumpet, many a nobleman and gentleman vaulted on their 
 steeds, after whom followed certain lords, mounted on palfreys, 
 trapped in cloth of gold ; many gentlemen on foot, clad in russet 
 sattin, and yeomen in russet damask, scarlet hose, and yellow 
 caps; then issued the King from his pavilion of cloth of gold." 
 His mettled courser loaded with the same gorgeous drapery, 
 and on his gilded chafrons nodded a graceful plume spangled 
 with gold. The King's three aids appeared in equal state ; each, 
 armed cap-a-pee, sat beneath a crimson pavilion. Next followed 
 in procession the nine pages or children of honour, each gal- 
 lantly bestriding a palfrey, of which the housings were embroi- 
 dered with words and poesies. Then entered, from the other 
 side of the field, on the part of the defenders. Sir Charles Bran- 
 don on horseback, habited as a religious recluse, who, unhe- 
 ralded by trumpet or minstrel, preferred to the Queen his lowly 
 suit that she would be pleased to allow him to run in her pre- 
 sence : the boon was no sooner granted, than, eagerly divesting 
 himself of his robe, he exposed to view a complete set of armour ; 
 and galloping to the tilt-end of the field, was instantly surrounded 
 by his supporters. During this interval entered singly the 
 
 lowing scroll was appended : ' The noble lady Renown, considering 
 
 the good and gracious fortune which it hath pleased God to send her 
 dear and best beloved cousins, the King and Queen of England and of 
 France, that is to say, the birth of a young prince, hath sent eight 
 knights, born in her realm ; that is to say, Cceur Noble, Vaillant Desir, 
 Bon Vouloir, et Joymx Penser, to furnish and coply the certain articles 
 as followeth; And forasmuch as, after the order and honor of arms, it 
 is not lawful for any man to enterprise arms in so high a presence with- 
 out his stock and lineage be of nobles descended.' " 
 
36 PROCESSION. 
 
 esquire^ young Henry Guilford^ clad in gold and silver tissue, 
 but completely enveloped in a pageant resembling a castle ; its 
 glittering walls chequered with, mystic rhymes, invoking blessings 
 on the royal pair : behind him came his men, all dressed in the 
 same livery of silver tissue, who, having made obeisance to the 
 Queen, passed to the field. Then followed the Marquis of Dorset, 
 and his brother-in-law. Sir Thomas Boleyn, both habited as pil- 
 grims from St. Jago's shrine, with a train of sable-suited atten- 
 dants. The procession was closed by several lords in armour, 
 mounted on steeds superbly ornamented. Amidst this martial 
 pomp, appeared pageants of most ludicrous and fantastic incon- 
 gruity. Arrows were encased in crimson damask ; and, amongst 
 other articles was, a silver greyhound, bearing a tree of pome- 
 granates, by whose branches it was almost concealed from view. 
 At length the trumpets sounded to the charge; the knights 
 spurred their steeds ; lance encountered iance. From the balconies 
 the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the concourse of spec- 
 tators gazed intently on the combat. As usual, the royal party 
 prevailed, and to the King was awarded the first prize : the 
 crowd dispersed, and Henry decorously attended his devout con- 
 sort to vespers. But not thus were to terminate the pleasures 
 of this laborious day. After supper, the King and his court 
 repaired to the Whitehall, where a spectacle was prepared of 
 which the lower orders were allowed to participate. An inter- 
 lude was first performed by the children of the chapel ; after 
 this, the King, according to ancient usage, conferred on the Irish 
 Chief, O'Neale, the honours of knighthood. Then was heard a 
 symphony; the minstrels played, and the lords and ladies 
 danced -, and Henry, observing how much this exhibition interest- 
 ed the spectators, stole away to prepare for them a still higher 
 
THE DANCE. 37 
 
 gratification. And now was attention arrested by a flourish of 
 trumpets : and lo ! an enormous machine was wheeled into the 
 hall, completely enveloped in cloth of arras. At this porten- 
 tous sight curiosity became intense ; when a cavalier suddenly 
 issuing from the pageant, represented to the Queen, that in a 
 certain garden of pleasure, there was a golden arbour, wherein 
 were lords and ladies much desirous to show pastime to the 
 Queen and ladies, if they might be licensed so to do. Permis- 
 sion being granted, the cloth was removed, and discovered a 
 beautiful garden, in which were trees of hawthorn, eglantine, 
 and rosiers, vines and gilliflowers, all wrought of gold. In an 
 arbour appeared six ladies, all dressed in silver and satin, on 
 whose heads were bonnets open at the four quarters, and out- 
 frised with flat-gold of damask. The orellets were of roses, 
 wreathed on lampas^ douche so that the gold showed through 
 the lampas doucke. In this garden also was the King, robed 
 in purple satin, embroidered with letters of gold, composing his 
 assumed name of Coeur Loyal. The gentlemen having joined 
 the ladies, they danced together, whilst the pageant was removed 
 to the extremity of the hall, for the purpose of receiving them 
 when the ballet should be ended ; but the rude people (as Hall 
 
 * Of this passage the following explanation has been suggested by 
 an author justly celebrated for the ingenuity, the erudition, and good 
 taste that have uniformly directed his reseax'ches. In the Flemish 
 language, lampas signifies a fine transparent linen or crape, through 
 which the gold on the orellets would appear transparent. It is very 
 probable that this was an article of commerce, imported from Flanders 
 in the time of Henry the Eighth. Lampas in counting-house ortho- 
 graphy, is no great corruption, and the above crape may therefore be 
 simply, Douche [Dutch] ; lampas douche being an error of the press. 
 
 4 
 
38 THE TOUENAMENT. 
 
 calls them) ran to the pageant, which, either from curiosity or 
 cupidity, was presently demolished, and, to escape their violence, 
 the royal and noble performers found it necessary to pluck off the 
 golden letters attached to their robes, of which one man picked 
 up enough to produce three pounds from the goldsmith. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that the foregoing description of the 
 tournament is almost the prose transcript of the beautiful poetical 
 sketch preserved by Chaucer, in his fable of the Flower and the 
 Leaf, and exquisitely embellished by Dryden ; and this exact cor- 
 respondence proves the conformity of manners which prevailed 
 in the age of Edward the Third, and Henry the Eighth. 
 
 Before the rest 
 The trumpets issued in white mantles dress'd ; 
 A numerous troop, and all their heads around 
 With chaplets green of cerrial-oak were crown'd ; 
 And at each trumpet was a banner bound, 
 "Which, waving in the wind, display'd at large 
 Their master's coat of arms, and knightly charge. 
 Broad were, the banners, and of snowy hue, 
 A purer web the silk- worm never drew. 
 The chiefs about their necks the scutcheons wore, 
 With orient pearls and jewels powder'd o'er; 
 Broad were their collars too, and every one 
 Was set about with many a costly stone. 
 Next these of kings at arms a goodly train 
 In proud array came prancing o'er the plain : 
 Their cloaks were cloth of silver mix'd with gold, 
 And garlands green around their temples roll'd ; 
 Rich crowns were on their royal scutcheons placed, 
 With sapphires, diamonds, and with rubies graced: 
 And as the trumpets their appearance made, 
 So these in habits were alike array'd ; 
 
THE TOURNAMENT. 39 
 
 But with a pace more sober and more slow ; 
 And twenty, rank in rank, they rode a-row. 
 The pursuivants came next, in number more ; 
 And like the heralds each his scutcheon bore : 
 Clad in white velvet all their troop they led. 
 With each an oaken chaplet on his head. 
 
 Nine royal knights in equal rank succeed, 
 Each warrior mounted on a fiery steed ; 
 In golden armour glorious to behold; 
 The rivets of their arms were nail'd with gold. 
 Their surcoats of white ermine fur were made. 
 With cloth of gold between, that cast a glittering shade ; 
 The trappings of their steeds were of the same ; 
 The golden fringe even set the ground on flame, 
 And drew a precious trail : a crown divine 
 Of laurels did about their temples twine. 
 
 Three henchmen were for every knight assign'd 
 All in rich livery clad, and of a kind : 
 White velvet, but unshorn, for cloaks they wore. 
 And each within his hand a truncheon bore : 
 The foremost held a helm of rare device ; 
 A prince's ransom would not pay the price. 
 The second bore the buckler of his knight ; 
 The third of cornel-wood a spear upright. 
 Headed with piercing steel, and polish'd bright. 
 Like to their lords their equipage was seen. 
 And all their foreheads crown'd with garlands green. 
 
 And after these came, arm'd with spear and shield, 
 A host so great as cover'd all the field. 
 And all their foreheads, like the knights before, 
 With laurels ever-green were shaded o'er, 
 Or oak, or other leaves of lasting kind. 
 Tenacious of the stem, and firm against the wind. 
 
40 MANNERS OF TPIE ENGLISH. 
 
 Some in their hands, besides the lance and shield, 
 The boughs of woodbine or of hawthorn held, 
 Or branches for their mystic emblems took. 
 Of palm, of laurel, or of cerrial-oak. 
 Thus marching to the trumpet's lofty sound. 
 Drawn in two lines adverse, they wheel'd around, 
 And in the middle meadow took their ground. 
 Among themselves the tourney they divide. 
 In equal squadrons ranged on either side. 
 Then turn'd their horses' heads, and man to man. 
 And steed to steed opposed, the jousts began. 
 They lightly set their lances in the rest. 
 And, at the sign, against each other press'd. 
 
 In tracing this approximation of manners and amusements 
 under the Plantagenets and tlie TudorS; we are naturally tempted 
 to inquire whether civilization had retrograded or advanced, was 
 stationary or progressive ? After a lapse of more than two cen- 
 turies, the age of Edward the Third continued to be quoted as 
 the ne phis ultra of English glory ; and to reclaim his triumphs 
 was still the pretext of ambitious princes, and the object of the 
 credulous people. Unquestionably, the nation had increased in 
 wealth, and the court improved in luxury. The royal cupboard 
 of plate had added three stages to its former dimensions. Nobles 
 and priests were robed in cloth of gold; cavaliers and their 
 steeds exhibited equal magnificence ; but where was the elegant 
 gallantry of the Black Prince, or the mingled courtesy and 
 dignity of his illustrious father ? Music and dancing, masquing 
 and revelry, filled the palace ; but the minstrels of the lay had 
 departed ; nor was there found another Chaucer to sustain the 
 honour of the English muse. To scholars and wits it was occa- 
 sionally permitted to share the great man's hospitality; whilst 
 
MANNERS OF THE ENGLISH. 41 
 
 buffoons were constantly and fondly protected : every splendid 
 or luxurious household had its fool or je&tev ; and of all the 
 king's officers this should seem to have been the privileged fa- 
 vourite. But it must also be remembered, that in the age of 
 Edward and his successor, Wickliffe reasonedj whilst Chaucer 
 sung. The germs of the Reformation sprung forth ; and but for 
 the oppression of the clergy, and the superstition of the people, 
 the conflicts and the triumphs of Luther had been gloriously 
 anticipated. In both ages authority was opposed to reason, and 
 bigotry to humanity : in both ages the advocates for free inquiry 
 were consigned to dungeons, and the champions of religious 
 liberty committed to the flames. If, in 1325, the bones of 
 Wickliffe* were exhumed forty years after death, Hun's corpse 
 was, in 1514, in like manner, dragged from the tomb to be burnt 
 with living heretics ; but it should be remembered, that Wickliffe 
 and his followers were protected by the government against the 
 bishops, and that the bishops were supported by the people. 
 Under Henry the Eighth, the reformers, oppressed by the 
 government, made zealous friends and found strenuous supporters 
 in all classes of the community ; a circumstance which distinctly 
 proves that an important change had gradually been produced in 
 
 * The bones of WicklifiFe were taken up and burnt forty-one years 
 after death. In the reign of Henry the Eighth, Hun, a merchant- 
 tailor, was committed to prison by the Bishop of London, on the charge 
 of having WickliflFe's Bible in his possession : after his death, other ar- 
 ticles of heresey being exhibited against him, his corpse was committed 
 to the flames. This iniquitous transaction shook the credit of the 
 clergy more than Luther's invectives ! In France such sacrilege was 
 frequently committed, under the imposing name of ecclesiastical 
 authority. 
 4 * 
 
42 REIGN OF THE TUDORS. 
 
 the national character. Fortunately, the encroachments of the 
 clergy on the laity had aroused that mighty, that invincible spirit 
 of freedom, before which the strong arm of power skrinksinto 
 feebleness, and tyranny confesses the claim of justice. In the 
 school of suffering, the people had been taught to think and to 
 act, to exercise the prerogative of reason, to assert the rights of 
 humanity ; the corruptions inherent in the old system were no 
 longer to be concealed from suspicion or protected from contempt. 
 The roots were already loosened, before the impetuous storm 
 assailed the degenerate branches. Nor was it for the church 
 alone that an eventful crisis was impending. In many existing 
 customs and institutions might be detected symptoms of decay ; 
 the forerunners of approaching dissolution : the circumstances 
 originally concurring in their formation had ceased to operate. 
 "What had once been necessary, was no longer useful ; discord 
 had succeeded to harmony ; universal evil had grown out of tem- 
 porary or partial good. To this class belonged the system of 
 chivalry, so admirably adapted to a feudal and military age, but 
 obviously misplaced in a more polished and regularly-organized 
 society. 
 
 Under the Tudors, the passion for glory, coeval with the birth 
 of chivalry, had degenerated into a fondness for pomp and 
 pageantry; and even in their exterior, the slashed sleeves, and 
 nodding plumes, betrayed a foppery unknown to the heroes of 
 Poictiers and Cressy. The predilection for jousting had also an 
 inevitable tendency to exalt physical above moral qualities, to 
 give undue value to the accidental distinctions of birth and for- 
 tune, to challenge for beauty and strength exclusive homage and 
 supremacy, to expend on the short-lived season of youth all the 
 treasures of human life, and leave nothing but selfish regrets, 
 or sensuality, or superstition, for unhonoured a.ge. 
 
STATE OF THE CLERGY. 43 
 
 In the clergy the discrepancy created by ancient usages and 
 nascent principles was less open to observation. It was the pri- 
 vilege of their order, that men of talents, without regard to the 
 invidious distinctions of gentle or churlish blood, might aspire to 
 dignity and honour. They were allowed to fill the highest offices 
 of the state, to supersede hereditary rank, and take place of the 
 most illustrious nobility; but the sentiment from which they 
 originally derived these privileges had gradually been weakened 
 by their incautious abuse of power and wealth, their arrogant 
 assumption of authority, and shameless perversion of all moral 
 and religious obligations. Penances and pilgrimages were fre- 
 quent ; masses and indulgences might be purchased ; monastic 
 vows subsisted : but the self-denying spirit, the all-subduing 
 enthusiasm that had led myriads to the Holy Sepulchre was ex- 
 tinct; the sacred halo of imagination that once encircled the 
 shrine of superstition had vanished ; the cloud of ignorance 
 alone remained; and there was enough of light to discern the 
 surrounding darkness. 
 
 After the revival of letters, the clergy, whatever state they 
 assumed in their stalls or chapters, were no longer omnipotent in 
 the minds of the people; the beneficent invention of printing 
 disseminated that knowledge hitherto engrossed by the great and 
 the privileged ; a powerful sympathy was thus created between 
 the learned and the vidgar. Man communicated with man ; and 
 in this mental collision the energies long dormant were called 
 into vigorous activity. Over the elements of the Reformation, 
 which emanated from WickliiFc, persecution had vainly exer- 
 cised its repelling power : there resided in them an immortal 
 essence, a spirit impenetrable to violence, and incapable of an- 
 nihilation. By the agency of a poor despised monk they were 
 
44 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 soon to assume another and more glorious form, to elicit truths 
 still more important to the progress of moral and religious im- 
 provement : and ultimately to awaken that genuine love of 
 justice, liberty, and independence, which can alone form the 
 character of a noble and magnanimous people. 
 
 From a cursory glance of Henry^s reign, it will be evident 
 that those days of ignorance and despotism were pregnant with 
 venality, perfidy, and corruption; nor with the exception of 
 the Mores, the Colets, and the Cranmers, shall we easily discover 
 among the statesmen or the favourites of his day examples of 
 disinterestedness, honour, and probity. Without referring to 
 the records of conventual visitation, without appealing to the 
 contempt almost universally avowed for monastic drones, or 
 glancing at the suspicious reputations of their frail sisters, it 
 may be remarked that gaming and other profligate vices had in- 
 fected both the court and the city, that the grossest immorality 
 prevailed in the country, and that, generally speaking, the age 
 of Henry was as little favourable to female modesty as to manly 
 patriotism, and equally adverse to liberty and virtue. 
 
 To the era of the Reformation may be traced purer morals 
 and more decorous manners. The example of Sir Thomas More's 
 family were then no longer singular : female cultivation ceased 
 to be rare when learning became the badge of a superior station ; 
 the progress of civilization was rapidly accelerated, and in little 
 more than the revolution of half a century, those citizens who 
 had been accustomed to witness with transports the mummery of 
 pageants and tournaments, were capable of relishing dramatic 
 compositions ; and, without attending other schools of rhetoric 
 and philosophy than the theatres at Bankside and Blackfriars, 
 insensibly refined their ideas, and formed their taste, under the 
 immortal auspices of Shakspeare. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 OF THE DESCENT OF THE BOLEYNES. THE INTRODUCTION OF 
 
 ANN BOLEYNE AT THE FRENCH COURT. 
 
 Sir Geoffrey Boleyne — Sir William Boleyne — The Earl of Surrey — Sir 
 Tliomas Boleyne — Anne Bullen — Infancy — The Lady Elizabeth — Fox 
 — Wolsey — His Mission to France — His Character — His Rise — War 
 -with France— Catherine's Regency — Charles Brandon — Edmund de 
 la Pole — His Death — Letter of Catherine of Arragou — Maximilian — 
 Battle of Spurs — Letter of Catherine — Wolsey a Bishop — The 
 Duchess of Surrey — War with Scotland — Battle of Flodden Field — 
 Sir Charles Somerset — Henry's Favourites — A Tournament — The 
 Princess Mary affianced to Louis XII. — Anne a Maid of Honour — 
 Mary's Followers — The Voyage — The Landing — Cavalcade — Inter- 
 view Avith the King — Louis XII. — Mary's Marriage — Her letter to 
 Henry — Her attendants dismissed — The Tournament — Death of Louis 
 XII. — Mary's Second Marriage — Her Pardon by Henrj^ — Her Domes- 
 tic Happiness. 
 
 The family of Bullen, or Boleyne, originally of French extrac- 
 tion, was transplanted to England soon after the Norman conquest; 
 and having settled in Norfolk continued gradually to extend its 
 patrimonial demesnes, and to confirm its pretensions to pure and 
 uncontaminated ancestry. During three centuries, however, the 
 Boleynes, from father to son, appear to have aimed only at main- 
 taining their rank and influence among the provincial gentry, 
 till Sir Geoffrey (Bolen), amidst the conflicts of York and Lan- 
 caster, exchanged the pastimes of hawking and hunting, for the 
 
 (45) 
 
46 SIR GEOFFREY BOLEN. 
 
 pursuits of commerce, and having entered the Mercer's Company, 
 was, in 1457, advanced to the dignity of Lord Mayor of London, 
 and subsequently invested with the titles of knighthood. In 
 revolutionary times, hereditary distinctions are often levelled by 
 accidental circumstances, and the possession of wealth becomes 
 equivalent to power and nobility. The Lord of Hoo* and Hast- 
 ings disdained not the alliance of the prosperous merchant, who, 
 marrying one of his daughters, became the founder of a house, 
 that was soon permitted to claim affinity with the noblest blood 
 in the kingdom. Sir Greoffrey appears to have been one of those 
 few favoured individuals, who never miss the critical moment 
 for taking the tide of fortune ; he continued sedulously to improve 
 every opportunity of advancement, and after having given his 
 well-portioned daughters to men of birth and consequence,"!" re- 
 served for his son an estate fully adequate to the pretensions of 
 a noble bride, who was one of the co-heiresses of the great Earl 
 of Ormond. J 
 
 In commemorating the singular felicity of this honourable 
 citizen, it would be unjust to leave no record of his virtues ; since 
 he was not more conspicuous for shrewd sense, and enterprising 
 perseverance, than for a munificent spirit, open-hearted liberality 
 and manly independence. Not satisfied with having conferred 
 blessings on the community in which he lived, he endeared his 
 name to posterity by a magnificent bequest of lOOOZ. to the city 
 
 * This title became extinct. 
 
 f Tlie daugMers of Sir Geoffrey Bolen intermarried with the Cheyneys, 
 the Heydons, and Fortescues of Norfolk. 
 
 J Thomas Boteler, or Butler, whose ancestors had suffered in the 
 Lancastrian cause. See the third chapter. 
 
SIR WILLIAM BOLEYN. 47 
 
 of London, and a cliaritable donation of 2001. to the poor of Nor- 
 folk, his native county.* 
 
 Sir William Boleyn, his son, was equally fortunate and more 
 aspiring than his predecessor ; he attached himself to the court, 
 and was one of the eighteen knights, whom Richard the Third 
 invested with the order of the Bath, at his magnificent corona- 
 tion : he was afterwards appointed deputy for the coasts of Nor- 
 folk and Sufi"olk. His father-in-law, though an Irish peer, pos- 
 sessed exclusively the privilege of sitting in the English House 
 of Lords, where he was even allowed to take precedence of 
 English barons. Such an alliance must naturally have awakened 
 ambitious expectations ; and either by the influence of the earl, 
 or his own dexterous management. Sir "William succeeded in 
 forming intermarriages with several noble families, by which the 
 most brilliant prospects were opened to hisview.f His sanguine 
 anticipations must, however, have been more than realized, by 
 the subsequent union of his son Thomas with Elizabeth, daughter 
 of the Earl of Surrey, a nobleman, in whom high birth was 
 exalted by chivalrous valour, munificent liberality, and refined 
 taste. I 
 
 It was the avowed opinion of this peer, that the parliament 
 
 * The remains of Sir Geoffrey Bolen are deposited in St. Leonard's 
 church, near the Old Jewry. From an old record referred to in Bloom- 
 field's History of Norfolk, it appears that he purchased the manor of 
 Blicking, in Norfolk, of Sir John Falstaffe, Knight. 
 
 ■j- Unlike his benevolent father, Sir William bequeathed lOZ. to tlirco 
 priests to celebrate masses for his soul. He was interred in Norwich 
 cathedral. 
 
 X Sec Dr. Nott's very interesting account of the house of Howard, in 
 his Life of Surrey. 
 
48 EARL OF SURREY. 
 
 alone could legitimate the authority of princeS; and that who- 
 ever obtained its suffrage became the rightful sovereign. In 
 conformity to this principle, he followed the banner of Richard 
 the Third to Bosworth Field ; an offence for which he was long 
 immured in the Tower by Henry the Seventh. Being at length 
 restored to favour, he displayed equal zeal and ability in the 
 service of his new master, who, by an effort of magnanimity un- 
 paralled in the race of Tudor, sanctioned the nuptials of the 
 earl's eldest son. Lord Thomas Howard, with his affianced bride, 
 the Lady Anne, who was not only of royal blood, but the 
 younger sister of Henry's own queen, Elizabeth. At the period 
 of Sir Thomas Boleyn's marriage, the Earl of Surrey was in the 
 zenith of power and prosperity, possessing the confidence of his 
 sovereign, and the suffrage of the people. In sanctioning this 
 unequal connexion, he may be supposed to have consulted his 
 daughter's inclination, rather than his own ambition; but if he 
 accepted as a son the object of her choice, he appears to have 
 exacted from him unconditional obedience. The will of Surrey 
 was henceforth to be the arbiter of his actions ; and thus formed 
 on his lessons, and directed by his experience, the grandson of 
 the honest independent citizen Sir Geoffrey became a placeman, 
 a pensioner, and a courtier. 
 
 In this career he was well fitted to succeed, by his native 
 sagacity and polished manners ; nor was his wife less formed to 
 adorn a court. In her father's castle, accustomed to an almost 
 princely magnificence, she had been ill prepared to preside in a 
 private mansion, however opulent or luxurious. In that martial 
 age, the rich barons of England vied with its monarchs in the 
 extravagance of their establishments, their splendid liveries, and 
 numerous retainers. In some instances, indeed, the baronial 
 
SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. 49 
 
 castle assumed a character more truly royal than the king's 
 palace. The noble house of Howard, like that of Percy, evinced 
 a liberal predilection for literature and the arts, and alternately 
 gave encouragement and protection to indigent poets, and ad- 
 venturous scholars. Under the cautious administration of Henry 
 the Seventh, useful talents alone were sought and respected, and 
 diligence and circumspection preferred to more showy and 
 brilliant accomplishments. During his reign. Sir Thomas Boleyn 
 was not destined to obtain preferment, and he appears to have spent 
 that interval in the retirement of his paternal mansion, at Roch- 
 ford Hall* in Essex, where, inf 1597, his wife gave birth to the 
 celebrated Anne, the scene of whose infancy is still pointed out 
 to the curious inquirer, with many traditional observations. 
 Henry the Eighth ascended the throne in 1509, and it was one 
 of the first acts of his sovereignty to confer the place of deputy- 
 warden of the customs of Calais (a sinecure producing a salary 
 of thirty-six pounds per annum) on Sir Thomas Boleyn, who, 
 from this time, became familiar with the court , and, with his 
 accomplished wife, regularly took part in the splendid entertain- 
 ments given by their youthful sovereign. 
 
 * Rochford Hall, in Essex, long the seat of the Botelers and Ormonds ; 
 from them transferred, by marriage, to the Boleyns. Rochford Hall is still 
 in existence, and at present in the occupation of Mr. Harrison. In 1774, 
 all the Rochford property devolved on the Tilney family . The manor of 
 Rochford now belongs to Mr. Wellesley Pole. For a further account, 
 see the Appendix, No. 11., at the end of this volume. 
 
 f This date decidedly refutes the infamous calumny of Sanders, who 
 asserts that Henry the Eighth, to gratify an illicit passion for the wife 
 of Sir Thomas Boleyn, sent him on an embassy to France, and that 
 Anne was the oflFspring of this adulterous connection. In reality. Anno 
 was born two yearfj before Henry's accession to the throne. 
 
 5 
 
50 ANNE BULLEN'S INFANCY. 
 
 If happiness be measured by prosperity, the period of Anne 
 Bullen's infancy must have formed for her family a season of 
 uninterrupted felicity. Her grandfather, the great Earl of 
 Surrey, presided in the council; his three sons, the Lords Tho- 
 mas, Edmund, and Edward, engrossed the highest honours of 
 the state; whilst his son-in-law. Sir Thomas Boleyn, without 
 aspiring to naval or military triumphs, occupied a place in the 
 royal household, and was soon selected, with other confidential 
 agents, for those diplomatic transactions, which were only in- 
 trusted to men of approved talents and discretion. Naturally 
 timid and circumspect, his ambition appears to have been checked 
 by caution : even his talents were veiled by discretion ; that 
 exquisite tact of penetration, for which he has been called the 
 picMock of princes, was but gradually unfolded ; and although 
 associated or implicated in almost every embassy during the first 
 five-and-twenty years of Henry's reign, he long continued to feel 
 the ascendancy of the house of Howard, and to rank rather 
 with the satellites of the court, than the confidential ministers 
 of the sovereign. As a man of letters, and a fine gentleman, 
 he* was personally more acceptable to Henry than the high-born 
 nobles, or powerful prelates, who challenged the right of direct- 
 ing his counsels. The King was still more attracted by the 
 manners of the Lady Elizabeth, his consort, who often assisted 
 in the masque, and mingled in its nocturnal revelry; protected 
 from reproach by the presence of her husband or her own illus- 
 trious relatives.* 
 
 Born in a family that boasted of its love for letters, she pos- 
 
 * She appears to have been the person designated by Hall, in his 
 description of a masque (in 1510), in which the King took a part, and 
 in which the princess and five other ladies appeared as Ethiopians. 
 
THE LADY ELIZABETir. 51 
 
 sessed more cultivation than was usually found, even in ladies 
 of exalted station. Henry relished her society, and as she was 
 many years older than his queen, perhaps never suspected that 
 his marked attentions* could be injurious to her reputation ; 
 but, although the conduct of Elizabeth appears to have been 
 perfectly correct, it may be doubted whether her pride and am- 
 bition did not predominate over the more amiable affections of 
 her sex. In submitting to an early separation from her children, 
 two of whom were educated in exilef from their native country, 
 she might have sacrificed maternal tenderness to the pride of the 
 Howards or the ambition of the Boleyns ; but in preparing for 
 their future greatness, she must unquestionably have fulfilled 
 her own conception of parental duty. In her age, not only 
 moral feelings, but domestic affections, were perverted by an 
 artificial system of society : nobility was honoured as virtue, and 
 grandeur mistaken for felicity. 
 
 During the first five years of Henry's reign, the Earl of Sur- 
 rey maintained his ascendancy in his favour; and as it was easy 
 to perceive the King had little relish for the conversation of 
 formal statesmen, he adroitly stigmatized the prudent maxims 
 of Henry the Seventh, and rather stimulated than reproved the 
 prodigality of his successor. By this delicate flattery, he might 
 
 * She was, says Loyd, his solace, not his sin. — In the attentions of 
 Heury, though santioned by custom and courtesy, and in the envy they 
 excited, originated the scandalous stories afterwards propagated with 
 such malicious zeal by the enemies of Anne Boleyn and the Refor- 
 mation. 
 
 f Anne and George. Loyd asserts, that the latter was bred up as a 
 page in the imperial court ; although he is known to have afterwards 
 pursued his studies at Oxford. See " The Statesmen and Favourites 
 of England." 
 
52 FOX, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 
 
 justly hope to acquire a permanent empire over the King's mind : 
 but courtier is counteracted Iby courtier ; and it was reserved for 
 Fox, Bishop of "Winchester, with the short-sightedness peculiar 
 to cunning, to raise up against the ancient house of Howard a 
 man of yesterday, on whose gratitude or dependence he weakly 
 expected to establish an unanswerable claim to future subser- 
 viency and obedience. The object of this speculation was no 
 other than the celebrated Wolsey, a man with whose character 
 and fortune it is not easy to discover a parallel in ancient or 
 modern history. It is notorious that this great statesman was a 
 butcher's son, born at Ipswich, and indebted to its free-school 
 for his scholastic attainments ; an obligation he afterwards repaid 
 by the foundation of a classical college. His childhood deve- 
 loped extraordinary powers of application ; ambition incited him 
 to exertion : and since it was only within the church that a man 
 of churlish blood was permitted to cherish emulation, he became 
 a churchman, pursued his studies at Oxford, and at the age of 
 fifteen obtained a degree from Magdalen College,* where his pre- 
 cocity procured him the appellation of the Boy-Bachelor. It 
 was not long before he was elected Master of Magdalen School, 
 and, having (as a tutor) attracted the patronage of the Marquis 
 of Dorset, by that nobleman was presented to the living of 
 Leamington in Somersetshire, where, but for an unforeseen cir- 
 cumstance, he might have lived and died, unknown to kings or 
 statesmen, in lettered ease and affluent obscurity. 
 
 But to Wolsey was allotted a different destiny ; and an auspi- 
 cious disappointment conducted him to greatness. At the insti- 
 
 ^ This college was founded by Cardinal "Wolsey in 1518, when he was 
 in the zenith of his power, and subsisted till the period of his fall, in 
 1529. 
 
WOLSEY'S MISSION. 63 
 
 gation of one Sir Amias Paiilct, whom he had formerly offended, 
 he received a personal affront, that either obstructed his in- 
 duction, or induced him to relinquish his benefice.* Having 
 once more to seek his fortune, he repaired to Calais, where he 
 officiated as domestic chaplain of Sir John Naphant, a man con- 
 nected with the court and in habits of intimacy with Fox, Bishop 
 of Winchester, the confidential counsellor of Henry the Seventh. 
 An opportunity was not long wanting to call forth Wolsey's 
 superior talents. In the progress of his abortive treaty of mar- 
 riage with Margaret of Savoy, Henry having occasion to despatch 
 a trustworthy messenger to Flanders, applied to Fox to recom- 
 mend a prompt and intelligent agent : the person chosen was 
 Wolsey, who being, in every sense of the word, a ready mauy 
 was no sooner furnished with his despatches, than he hastened 
 to St. Omer's, obtained an interview with the Emperor, and 
 having duly executed his commission, travelled night and day 
 with such expedition that, on his way back, he actually inter- 
 cepted a messenger whom the King had sent with instructions, 
 which he had already anticipated. On proceeding to court, the 
 King, little suspecting that his commission was accomplished, 
 gently rebuked him for having so long deferred his journey. 
 An explanation followed, by which Henry was surprised into an 
 acknowledgment of grateful admiration, and the diligent courier 
 was soon rewarded with the deanery of Lincoln. On the death 
 
 * It has been said, that Wolsey was set in the stocks, a punishment 
 reserved for base delinquents. Of whatever nature might be the injury 
 received, it was afterwards amply revenged on Sir Amias Paulet, who 
 was confined five years by the will of the omnipotent chancellor ; to 
 appease whose vindictive spirit he erected a gatehouse over the Middle 
 Temple, which subsisted till the great fire of London. 
 5* 
 
54 WOLSEY'S CHARACTEE. 
 
 of this prince; lie was appointed almoner to his successor, to 
 whom he became first acceptable^ then necessary, and finally in- 
 dispensable. Of Wolsey, in common with many other eminent 
 personages, it might be observed, that he possessed every quality, 
 good or bad, that conducts to fortune. To a daring spirit he 
 added indefatigable perseverance ; with the graces of eloquence 
 he united exquisite flexibility and address, and all those apti- 
 tudes to dissimulation so essential to the favourite and useful to 
 the statesman. Unchecked by any fixed principles of rectitude, 
 his unconquerable ambition usurped the place of social sympa- 
 thies and moral feelings. His most permanent sentiment was 
 pride ; yet could he stoop to rise, and cared little by what means 
 he achieved his favourite object. In his intercourse with the 
 world he had learnt to be serious with the grave, and convivial 
 with the gay ; but whilst his native arrogance assumed the ex- 
 pression of liberality, or disinterestedness, or dignity, the vin- 
 dictive passions lurked in his breast ; and in the most brilliant 
 moments of his life he remained incapable of that magnanimity 
 which scorns to trample on a fallen foe. Hitherto it had been 
 his business to conciliate esteem, and inspire confidence; and 
 such was his address, or his discretion, that his exaltation excited 
 neither envy nor distrust even in the Bishop of Winchester, his 
 original patron and benefactor. Wolsey was still the ready 
 man ; with powers of promptitude and self-possession never to 
 be suspended; and happy were the king's counsellors to devolve 
 on him the task of communicating to their sovereign those dry 
 official details, to which he evidently lent no willing ear : but it 
 could not long escape the penetration of Henry, how much the 
 humble almoner surpassed the noble courtiers. On whatever 
 theme he expatiated, persuasion dwelt on his lips ; and the mo- 
 
WAR WITH FRANCE. 55 
 
 narch tasted in his conversation a degree of pleasure he expe- 
 rienced from no other society. Thus, by slow and imperceptible 
 gradations, the obsequious priest acquired and assumed supre- 
 macy over those to whom he had once yielded submission ; and 
 persons of the highest rank no longer disdained to solicit his 
 mediation, and to cultivate his friendship. From the noble 
 family of Howard, however, his elevation extorted not respect, 
 nor even courtesy, till they unwillingly learnt to discover the 
 extent of his influence. With Sir Thomas Boleyn alone he 
 appears to have soon established an intercourse like intimacy and 
 confidence. 
 
 The first five years of this reign were spent in a succession of 
 tournaments, masques, pageants, and other elaborate puerilities. 
 The King thirsted for military renown ; but his passion was un- 
 gratified, till, by the machinations of the pope, and the intrigues 
 of Ferdinand, his crafty father-in-law, a desultory war commenced 
 against France, in which Henry, under pretence of assisting his 
 father-in-law, officiously interfered without either profit or glory. 
 The death of Sir Edward Howard, the Lord High Admiral of 
 England,* inspired in the Earl of Surrey bitter feelings of hosti- 
 lity towards France. Wolsey afi"ected to catch the patriotic 
 enthusiasm of his master to revive the glorious days of Ed- 
 ward the Third; and that nothing might be wanting to the 
 
 ^ Sir Edward Howard was one of the most gallant cavaliers of the 
 age, and died, as he had ever wished to die, in struggling for glory ; 
 but unfortunately his life was sacrificed in a rash and abortive enter- 
 prise to destroy the French galleys in Brest Harbour. He was the 
 most popular of the Howards, and his death Avas lamented as a national 
 calamity. By this event, the care of his orphan daughters devolved 
 on their grandfather ; and one of them (Catherine) was afterwards des- 
 tined to become the queen of Henry the Eighth. 
 
56 CATHERINE'S REGENCY. 
 
 resemblancej Henry determined to assume the command of his 
 army, and valiantly to combat in person. As a proof how little 
 importance was attached to practical experience, the Lord Tho- 
 mas Howard, though almost new to nautical affairs, was pro- 
 moted to the post of Lord High Admiral, which had been filled 
 meritoriously by his ill-fated brother. Queen Catherine was 
 constituted Regent, and on the Earl of Surrey devolved the 
 onerous task of directing her councils. In this expedition, Henry 
 was attended, not only by his confidant, Wolsey, but by his first 
 favourite, Charles Brandon, the history of whose rise is credit- 
 able to the moral feelings of Henry the Seventh, and throws a 
 solitary gleam of goodness over the harsh features of the Tudor 
 race. In the last struggles between York and Lancaster, his 
 father. Sir William Brandon, who had strenuously espoused the 
 cause of Henry of Richmond, fell, the victim of honour and 
 fidelity, in Bosworth Field. His family was taken under the 
 conqueror's protection ; and Charles, the second son, having been 
 constantly associated in the studies and pleasures of Prince 
 Henry, continued even after his accession to the throne to retain 
 the same place in his affections. At this period Charles, already 
 a widower, was confessedly one of the most handsome and accom- 
 plished cavaliers of the age, and endeared to his master by sym- 
 pathy in tastes, habits, and amusements. Brandon alone had 
 never to experience the fluctuations of his capricious humour, 
 since to him he was uniformly kind, confiding, and indulgent. 
 This extraordinary exemption might, in some degree, be ascribed 
 to the influence which early associations are universally found 
 to possess over the human heart ; but is also to be accounted for 
 by the favourite's obvious inferiority, in all but personal accom- 
 plishments, to the sovereign on whose protection he depended. 
 
EDMUND DE LA POLE. 57 
 
 Brandon was eminently brave, and emulous of military glory ; 
 and it was equally the part of Henry to excite his ambition, and 
 promote his fortune. He was, perhaps, not aware that his sister 
 Mary, who had been contracted to the Prince of Castile, enter- 
 tained for Brandon any warmer sentiment than friendship, al- 
 though the extreme repugnance which the princess expressed to 
 the idea of leaving England might have naturally suggested 
 such an inference. The confidence of which he was in this in^ 
 stance capable, becomes the more striking, when contrasted with 
 those traits of suspicion and stubbornness which began to pre- 
 dominate in his character ; and which, even in this brilliant hour 
 of youth, betrayed him to an action the most base and inglorious. 
 It is well known that the unfortunate Edmund de la Pole, who, 
 by the artifices of Henry the Seventh, had been enticed from 
 his asylum in Flanders, still languished in the Tower, to which 
 he had been committed as a state prisoner ; even the ungenerous 
 persecutor of the Plantagenets had pursued the victim no far- 
 ther. Nor was any attempt made to cut short a life devoted to 
 hopeless captivity, till, among other preliminary steps to the 
 invasion of France, it appeared necessary to the Privy Council to 
 dispose of a person against whom no other crime could be alleged 
 than that he was of royal blood, and might hereafter form plau- 
 sible pretensions to the crown. When this question was debated 
 in the Privy Council, Sir Thomas Boleyn, with characteristic 
 caution, opposed the King's leaving England, while such a rival 
 remained in existence. The Earl of Surrey, on the contrary, 
 contended that it would be unsafe to trust to the fidelity of the 
 army, unless the King commanded in person ; so little confidence 
 was reposed in the loyalty of the subject, or the honour of the 
 soldier, and so completely are despotism and ignorance subver- 
 
58 POLE'S DEATH. 
 
 sive of security to the sovereign^ and of probity in the people ! 
 To put an end to doubts and scruple, Henry instantly signed 
 the warrant for De la Pole's death; and thus offered his first 
 victim to those fantastic terrors, which, during his whole reign, 
 ceased not to haunt his mind with ominous predictions of a dis- 
 puted succession. In every age the sophistical doctrine of poli- 
 tical expediency has lent its pernicious license to cruelty and 
 injustice. Under the dynasty of the Tudors, when the sense of 
 rectitude was blunted by ignorance and superstition, the partial 
 torpor of the understanding seems to have reached the heart; 
 since the immolation of De la Pole is scarcely noticed even by 
 those contemporary historians who have inveighed against Henry's 
 subsequent crimes. It was for Catherine alone to oppose this 
 barbarous policy ; and, although her intercession was unavail- 
 ingly employed to rescue the injured prince from destruction, 
 she ceased not to deplore his fate, predicting that his innocent 
 blood would be avenged on his enemies and their posterity.* 
 The horror with which she contemplated this legal murder, in- 
 creased her melancholy in witnessing Henry's departure ; and it 
 was her best consolation, to extract from Wolsey those minute 
 details, which she hoped not to obtain from her husband. In 
 the following letter she probably might be assisted by an Eng- 
 lish pen ; but the sentiments are evidently dictated by anxious 
 feminine tenderness. 
 
 -)t Previous to Catherine's marriage with Arthur, her grandfather, 
 Ferdinand, is said to have stipulated for the destruction of Edmund de 
 la Pole, lest his future claims should interfere with the interests of his 
 daughter's descendants. It is pretended by Le Grand and other Ca- 
 tholic writers, that Catherine considered her subsequent trials and 
 misfortunes as ordained by retributory Providence. 
 
LETTER OF CATHERINE. 69 
 
 Catherine {of Arragon) Queen of England, to Wolsey, 
 (Orig. 1513.*) 
 
 ^^ Master Almoner, thinking that the King's deputing from 
 Calais shall cause that I shall not so often hear from his grace, 
 for the great business in his journey that every day he shall have, 
 I send now my servant, to bring me word of the King, and he 
 shall tarry there till another cometh, and so I shall hear every 
 week from thence and so I pray you to take the l^j^ams] with 
 every one of my messengers to write to me of the King's health 
 and [what] he intendeth to do ; for when you be so near your 
 enemies, I shall be [miserable,] till I see often letters from you, 
 and doing this ye shall give me cause to thank you ; and I shall 
 know that the mind ye have had to me continueth still, as my 
 trust always hath been. The briefs that the pope sent to the 
 King I was very glad to see, and I shall be more to hear that 
 he is the mean, either to make an honourable peace for the King, 
 or else help on his part, as much as he can, knowing that all 
 the business that the King hath was first the cause of the church, 
 and with this and the Emperor together, I trust to God that the 
 King shall come home shortly, with as great victory as any 
 prince in the world, and this I pray God send him without need 
 
 of any other prince; Sir Almoner, touching Francesse de 
 
 Cassery's matter, I thank you for your labours therein : true it 
 is she was my woman before she was married, but noAV, Sir, she 
 cast herself away ; I have no more charge of her : for very pity 
 to see her lost I prayed you, in Canterbury, to find the means to 
 
 * Copied from MS. in the British Museum. Caligula, D. YI. 28. — 
 N. B. The words enclosed in brackets are supplied, the original being 
 eflfaced. 
 
60 LETTER OF CATHERINE. 
 
 send her liome into her country; now ye think that, with my 
 recommendation to the Duchess of JSavoT/, she shall be content 
 to take her into her service, this, Mr. Almoner, is not mete for 
 her ; for she is so pillous a woman, that it shall be dangerous to 
 put her in a strange house ; if you will do so much for me to 
 make her go hence by the way, with the ambassador of the King 
 my father, it should be to me a great pleasure, and one that ye 
 shall bind me to you more than ever I was. From hence I have 
 nothing to write to you, but every body here is in good health, 
 thanked be Grod, and the counsail very diligent in all things 
 concerning the expedition of the King's G-race; and ye will do 
 so much to pray the King to be so good lord as to write to them, 
 that he is informed by me \Jiow'] so well every thing is done by 
 them, tha.t he is very well content thereat and give them thanks 
 for it, bidding them so to continue. And with this I make an 
 end on this .... day of July.'^ 
 
 Catherine of Arragon, Queen of England, to Wolsey. (Orig. August ~ 
 
 13, 1513.)* 
 
 " Master Almoner, I received both the letters by Copynger 
 and John Glyn, and I am very glad to hear so [Jiow'] well the 
 
 King passeth his dangerous passage I trust to Grod it 
 
 shall so continue that ever the King shall have best on 
 
 his enemies with as great honor as ever King had. Till I saw 
 your letter I \jwas] troubled to hear [hoio] so near the King was 
 to the siege of Trouenne .... but now I thank Grod ye make me 
 sure of the good heed that the King taketh of himself, to avoid 
 all manner of dangers. I pray you, good Mr. Almoner, remem- 
 ber the King always thus to continue, for with his life and health 
 
 * Caligula, D. YI. 29. 
 
LETTER OF CATHERINE. 61 
 
 there is nothing in the world that shall come amiss, by the grace 
 of Grod, and .... without that, I can see no manner of good 
 thing shall fall after it, and being sure that ye will not forget 
 this, I will say herein no more, but I pray you to write .... to 
 me and though ye have no great matters, yet I pray you send 
 me word .... the chief that it is to me from the King's own 
 self. Ye may think, when I put you to this labour, that I for- 
 get the great business that ye have on hand ; but if ye see .... 
 in what case I am that is without any comfort or pleasure unless 
 I hear from him, ye will not blame me to desire you though it 
 be a short letter, to let me know from you tidings as often as 
 may be, as my trusting dispatch unto you. From hence, I have 
 no thing to write to you, but that ye be not so busy in this .... 
 war, as we be here encumbered with it. I mean that touching 
 my own concerns, for going farther, where I shall not so often 
 hear from the King. And all his subjects be very glad, I thank 
 God, to be busy with the goff,* for they take it for .... pass- 
 time ; my heart is very good to it and I am horribly busy with 
 making . . . standards, banners, and bagets. I pray God first 
 to send there with you a good battail, as I trust he shall do, and 
 with that every thing here shall go very well you to send 
 
 * This passage evidently alludes to the popular game of gofiFc, of 
 which the following account is given in Strutt's Sports and Pastimes : 
 — " There are many games played with the ball, that require the assist- 
 ance of a club or bat, and probably the most ancient among them is 
 the pastime now distinguished by the name of goff. In the northern 
 parts of the kingdom, goff is much practised. It requires much room 
 to perform this game with propriety : it answers to a rustic pastime of 
 the Romans, which they played with a ball of leather stuffed with 
 feathers, called paganka ; and the goff-ball is composed of the same 
 materials to this day." 
 
 6 
 
62 BATTLE OF SPURS. 
 
 me word whether you received the letters that I sent unto you 
 to .... of the King my father and what answer he gave you to 
 
 it; and with this an end. At Richmount the xiiij. day 
 
 of August. 
 
 " Catherine." 
 
 The most remarkable circumstance of this camiDaign, was that 
 Henry took into his pay the Emperor Maximilian, notorious for 
 combining prodigality with meanness, and that he was lodged 
 at an enormous expense in a tent of cloth of gold.* The royal 
 camp was an ever-shifting scene of pomp and festivit}^ A herald 
 was received on one day ', an embassy entertained the next ; ex- 
 cursions succeeded to skirmishes ; and Henry and his courtiers 
 visited Maximilian's daughter, Margaret, the Duchess Dowager 
 of Savoy, who was also governess of the Netherlands : to crown 
 all, he defeated the French, or rather displaced them, in the 
 celebrated Joifniee c?es Esperons, or battle of the spurs; so called, 
 because the enemy only spurred their horses to fly from the 
 field. A victory, such as this, was little flattering to the descend- 
 ants of those conquerors, who had immortalized the names of 
 Cressy and Agincourt ; but flattery and policy exaggerated its 
 importance. Te Deum was sung in the churches; bonfires 
 blazed through the streets ; the Emperor and the King recipro- 
 cated compliments ; and Catherine, with grateful exultation, 
 addressed to Wolsey the following letter, in which she is evi- 
 dently impressed with reverence for the dignity of the imperial 
 soldier Maximilian. 
 
 * The Emperor Maximilian was at once crafty and presumptuous, 
 extravagant and rapacious, a baser counterpart of Ferdinand of Arra- 
 gon. 
 
 I 
 
CATHERINE'S LETTER. 63 
 
 Catherine [of Arragon), Queen of England, to Wolsey. {Orig. after 
 the battle of the Spurs. August 25, 1513).''^ 
 
 " Master Almoner ; what comfort I have with the good tidings 
 of your letter I need not write it to you ; for the very account 
 that I have sheweth it the victory hath been so great, that I 
 think none such hath been seen before : all England hath cause 
 to thank Grod of it, and I especially, seeing that the King begin- 
 neth so well, which is to me a great hope that the end shall be 
 like. I pray God send the same shortly, for if this continue so 
 still, I trust in Him that every thing shall follow thereafter to 
 the King's pleasure and my comfort. Mr. Almoner, for the 
 pains ye take remembering to write to me so often, I thank you 
 for it with all my heart, praying you to continue still sending 
 me word how the King doeth, and if he keep still his good rule 
 as he began, I think, with the company of the Emperoi-, and 
 with his good council his grace shall not adventure himself so 
 much as I was afraid of before. I was very glad to hear the 
 meeting of them both, which hath been, to my fancying, the 
 greatest honour to the King that ever came to prince. The 
 Emperor hath done every thing like himself. I trust to God he 
 shall be thereby known for one of the gallantest princes in the 
 world, and taken for another man that he was before thought. 
 Mr. Almoner, I think myself that 1 am so bound to him for 
 my part, that in my letters I beseech the King to recommend 
 me unto him; and if his grace thinketh that this shall be well 
 done, I pray you to remember it. News from hence I have 
 none, but such as I am sure the council have advertised the King 
 
 -■ Caligula, D. YI. 30. 
 
64 WOLSEY A BISHOP. 
 
 of,* and tliereby ye see Almiglity Grod helpetli here our part, as 
 
 well as there. I trowe the cause is, as here say, that the 
 
 King disposeth himself to him so well, that I hope all . . . shall be 
 the better for his honour, and with this I make an end, at ... . 
 the xxY. day of August. 
 
 ^^Gr. Katherina." 
 
 From this victory, of which Catherine's love magnified the 
 importance, nothing resulted, but that Henry retreated towards 
 Tournay, of which he obtained possession, merely, it should 
 seem, to give Wolsey a bishopric, and to prove, according to the 
 almoner's artful suggestion, that he could reduce to obedience 
 a town, whose ancient inhabitants had resisted the arms of 
 Caesar. To these exploits succeeded a tournament, in honour 
 of the governess of the Netherlands. f Jousting or feasting em- 
 ployed the day, dancing and masquing consumed the night; 
 whilst Henry, elate with joy and vanity, took upon himself to 
 enthral Margaret and Charles Brandon (lately created Yiscount 
 Lisle) in a mutual passion. Either from policy or inclination, 
 the Duchess of Savoy was observed to lavish smiles and courte- 
 
 -'^ Catherine alludes to the victory obtained by the Earl of Surrey at 
 riodden Field. 
 
 f This princess was, in her childhood, contracted to Charles the 
 Eighth, from whose court she was suddenly dismissed to make room 
 for the marriage of that prince with Anne of Brittany. At the age of 
 seventeen Margaret espoused the Prince of Castile, who dying in two 
 years, she married the Duke of Savoy, and again became a widow at 
 one-and-twenty : from that period she is said to have protested against 
 the surrender of her independence. The Netherlands prospered under 
 her government, and she was certainly entitled to take place with the 
 best statesmen of the age. 
 
THE DUCHESS OF SAVOY. 65 
 
 sies on the amiable cavalier ; but neither his birth nor station 
 could sanction pretensions to the daughter of an emperor; nor 
 was the strong-minded Margaret likely to sacrifice prudence to 
 love ; it may, therefore, be presumed, her attention was merely 
 a political fiction, devised by her crafty father, or the more 
 subtle Wolsey, who, perfectly aware of the mutual attachment 
 subsisting between the favourite and the Princess Mary, had 
 suggested this expedient to detach them from each other. By 
 whatever agency the illusion was created, Brandon affected to 
 become its dupe ; so willed his sovereign, who, however kind and 
 indulgent on ordinary occasions, had been too long invested with 
 power, not to require from his favourite unconditional obedience. 
 Fortunately for the interests of his true passion, Henry, whom 
 four months had sickened of war, no longer deferred his return 
 to Richmond, where his Queen impatiently awaited his arrival, 
 and where, if we may believe the chronicler, there was such a 
 loving meeting, that it rejoiced everg one to heliold.^ It is indeed 
 somewhat singular, that under Catherine's delegated authority, 
 Henry should have obtained the most brilliant and important 
 victory that adorned his reign. 
 
 During his absence from England, James the Fourth of Scot- 
 land, a gallantf prince, married to his elder sister Margaret, had 
 seized the opportunity to invade England, expecting, by this 
 irruption, to promote the cause of his ally, Louis the Twelfth. 
 After spreading terror and devastation through the northern 
 
 * Hall. 
 
 ■j- James the Fourth of Scotland was, in the language of chivalry, 
 the devoted knight of Anne of Brittany, and was, in his political con- 
 duct, supposed to have been influenced by sentiments of romantic 
 fidelity for a princess he had never beheld. 
 
66 FLODDEN FIELD. 
 
 counties lie invested Norliam castle, whicli was soon forced to 
 capitulate ; and to arrest his progress, the gallant Earl of Surrey, 
 supported by his two brave sons, the Lord Thomas, and Sir 
 Edmund Howard, gave him battle on Flodden Field. To the 
 invaders the day proved fatal : their army was routed ; their king 
 slain; his natural son, the Archbishop of St. x\ndrew's, with 
 several prelates, left dead on the field, and, in reality, the Scotch 
 received a check, from which, during Henry's reign, they never 
 perfectly recovered. 
 
 It is easy to imagine how much the recollections and the 
 trophies of this glorious victory must have heightened the satis- 
 faction with which Catherine welcomed back her lord and sove- 
 reign. Happily for her peace, she knew not with what ardent 
 admiration he had beheld the beautiful wife of Sir Grilbert Tail- 
 boys,* (governor of Calais,) the first acknowledged rival in her 
 husband's affections. Henry was neither slow to acknowledge, 
 nor unwilling to recompense the valour of his subjects. At a 
 solemn festival, and in the presence of unnumbered spectators, 
 he created the Earl of Surrey Duke of Norfolk; and having 
 offered this proper tribute to the conqueror of James the Fourth, 
 proceeded to dispense his favours, with somewhat more of libe- 
 rality than discrimination, on the associates of his late expedi- 
 tion. In this chosen number, the most partially distinguished 
 was Wolsey, advanced to the archbishopric of York, which he 
 was permitted to hold with the see of Lincoln. That Henry 
 
 * This lady, the daughter of Sir John Blount, appears to have been 
 one of the most beautiful and accomplished -women of her time. After 
 her husband's death she was notoriously the King's mistress, and had 
 by him a son called Henry Fitzroy, born in 1519, created Duke of Pdch- 
 mond, in 1525, who died in 1537. 
 
SIR CHARLES SOMERSET. 67 
 
 did not^ however, overlook the favourites of a former age, was 
 proved by the preferment of his chamberhiin, Sir Charles 
 Somerset Lord Herbert of Gower, who for his late conduct in 
 France was created Earl of "Worcester. Of this veteran courtier 
 it is worthy of remark that, like Sir Charles Brandon, he had 
 been the architect of his own fortune ; having surmounted, by 
 personal merit, the prejudices attached to illegitimate birth, and 
 almost effaced the stigma which his mother's frailty had left on 
 her honourable ancestry. His father, who was avowedly the 
 Duke of Somerset, dying without heirs, the ambitious youth 
 challenged from courtesy the recognition of his natural rights, 
 by assuming the name of Somerset. This gallant spirit won 
 the good will of Henry the Seventh, at whose court he was soon 
 distinguished among the train of esquires, and expectant courtiers, 
 as the object of his especial favour. Raised to the dignity of a 
 banneret, he obtained the hand of Elizabeth, the wealthy heiress 
 of the Earl of Huntingdon ; and on the demise of his father-in-law 
 was exalted to the peerage by the style of Lord Herbert Baron 
 Gower le Chevalier. From that period Sir Charles Somerset 
 acquired a decided influence in the Council ; and by his prudence 
 and moderation endeared himself to the people. On the acces- 
 sion of Henry the Eighth, the citizens, by his mediation, pre- 
 sented petitions against Empson and Dudley ; and to his persua- 
 sion was in part ascribed the resolution with which Henry com- 
 menced his reign, of redressing the grievances of the people. 
 In the expedition against France, Somerset attended not merely 
 in a civil but a military capacity; and, dismissing the sedate 
 habits of the Lord Chamberlain, resumed the martial exercises 
 of his youth, and emulated in ardour and bravery his juvenile 
 compeers. The favourites and statesmen of Henry's court were 
 
68 A TOUENAMENT. 
 
 individually distinguished "by some predominant quality. The 
 Howards were characterized by magnificence, the Earl of Bedford 
 hy courtesy; Sir Charles Brandon by gallantry; whilst of Sir 
 Charles Somerset the prevailing attributes appear to have been 
 dignity and decorum ; whilst this nobleman was proclaimed Earl of 
 Worcester, for diligence and fidelity, Charles Brandon was created 
 Duke of Suffolk, for the express purpose, as it should seem, of 
 wedding the august governess of the Netherlands. Henry was 
 still bent on promoting this alliance ; but busy rumour whispered 
 that his friend was more likely to win the beautiful Mary of 
 England, than the ambitious Margaret of Savoy. In a tourna- 
 ment at Grreenwich, however, the Duke chose a device, evidently 
 alluding to his Flemish mistress. On this occasion, clad as a 
 pilgrim, with a long silver beard, he exhibited a stafP, on which 
 was inscribed the motto of " Who can Tiold tliat will away ?'' 
 and hence it was conjectured that he persevered with his suit, 
 and that he anticipated a prosperous issue. With whatever feel- 
 ings Mary might witness this ostentatious demonstration of her 
 knight's inconstancy, she had no alternative but to disguise her 
 chagrin with the semblance of gayety and good-humour. It is, 
 indeed, possible, that she gave little faith to the unwelcome con- 
 jecture ; and, her marriage-treaty with the Prince of Castile 
 being annulled, she might secretly exult in the conviction, that 
 the man of her choice was not held unworthy of alliance with 
 a lady whose birth and station were even more illustrious than 
 her own ; but whatever hopes she might have cherished, they 
 were annihilated by a few strokes of the statesman's pen. A 
 treaty of peace was concluded with France, of which Mary was 
 destined to become the unwilling guarantee, and, at eighteen, 
 constrained to pledge her faith to Louis, who had already com- 
 
MARY AFFIANCED TO LOUIS XII. 69 
 
 pleted his fifty-sixth year, and, from ilhiess and infirmity, appeared 
 to have prematurely reached the extremity of old age. Even 
 Henry, though eager to secure to her a royal diadem, at first 
 recoiled from the proposal ; but his scruples were obviated by 
 the plausible suggestion of Wolsey, that Mary, if she survived 
 Louis, would be at liberty to return to England, mistress of 
 herself, and of a princely dower, not inferior to what had been 
 settled on her predecessor, Anne of Brittany. The final ratifi- 
 cation of this article by the French court removed every impe- 
 diment to the marriage; and the Duke of Longueville, who, 
 since the campaign, had been detained a prisoner of war in Eng- 
 land, was authorized to solemnize by proxy the auspicious espou- 
 sals. Finding resistance unavailing, Mary submitted quietly to 
 her fate; and Henry, who could not, without regret, part from 
 a beloved sister, the sprightly playmate of his childhood, not 
 only reiterated his solemn assurances that she should hereafter 
 reclaim fraternal protection, but attempted to divert her chagrin 
 by the magnificence of her bridal establishment. In these ar- 
 rangements the ascendancy of the house of Howard was strikingly 
 apparent : to the Duke of Norfolk was intrusted the guardian- 
 ship of her person ; his two sons assisted in the charge ; Sir 
 Thomas Boleyn was associated with the Bishop of Ely in the 
 diplomatic department, and his daughter Anne, though scarcely 
 seven years old, attached to the young queen's person, with the 
 imposing title of Maid of Honour. Although this early intro- 
 duction to court was justly considered as an especial favour to 
 her family, it was a distinction often conferred on girls of illus- 
 trious birth, who, in being thus admitted to a royal household, 
 were gradually formed to the habits and duties of their vocation, 
 and naturally acquired appropriate manners and sentiments to 
 
70 MARY'S FOLLOWERS. 
 
 their adopted country. Exclusive of her personal attendants, 
 Mary's retinue was swelled by a swarm of supernumerary volun- 
 teers, of whom many desired but to wear out life in a state of 
 parasitical indulgence ; whilst others, disguising ambition under 
 the mask of loyalty, expected, by pompous demonstrations of 
 zeal for the honour of their beautiful Princess, to acquire undis- 
 puted title to her future patronage and protection. The spirit 
 of adventure pervading the lower ranks of the community, was 
 alike inimical to industry, probity, and independence. In them, 
 such was the reverence for gentility, and such the passion for 
 pomp and pageantry, that it was equally common for an indivi- 
 dual to sink his whole property in the purchase of a pair of 
 colours, or a suit of court-clothes ; to follow the soldier of for- 
 tune; or volunteer in some noble lord's or lady's train, with the 
 doubtful chance of favour and preferment. The canopy of a 
 royal bride was the banner to which idleness, profligacy, and 
 vanity hastened to vow allegiance. Many sunk, and others 
 mortgaged their whole property to procure an equipage suitable 
 to the occasion ; others contracted debts on a perilous contingency, 
 and abjured honesty, in renouncing independence. It may, 
 indeed, be suspected, that independence was not to be appreciated 
 by those whose distaste to serious and useful occupation was 
 heightened by contempt for the duties of humble life, and avi- 
 dity for the honours of a brilliant station. 
 
 The elevation of an English Princess to the throne of France, 
 was an event of too much interest not to attract adventurers of 
 every class to her standard ; and the bridal train of Mary, in- 
 cluding guards, domestics, and retainers, amounted to the alarm- 
 ing number of three thousand followers, who were crowded 
 together in the fleet appointed to conduct her to Boulogne. 
 
THE LANDING. 71 
 
 It was on the 2d of October that slxe embarked at Dover, to 
 which place she had been accompanied by Henry and Catherine. 
 Her visible depression excited pity : and it was generally believed 
 that she would have preferred Charles Brandon and old England, 
 to Louis and his crown. 
 
 The voyage, though brief, was rough and perilous ; and the 
 little fleet being separated by a tempest, the royal yacht alone 
 reached the harbour of Boulogne, from whence a boat was launched 
 for the Princess and her female attendants. When they ap- 
 proached land, the violence of tne surf impeded their course ; but 
 from this irksome situation Mary was extricated by the gallantry 
 of an English knight,* who, plunging into the waves, bore her in 
 his arms uninjured to the shore. Once landed, the unwilling 
 guest was overwhelmed with homage and felicitation. The air 
 resounded with shouts of joy; and, sorrowful and exhausted as 
 she really was, a sense of propriety extorted from her answer- 
 ing smiles, and expressions of complacency. At Boulogne, her 
 train received a considerable augmentation, and at the head of the 
 French nobility came the Duke of Angouleme (the son-in-law of 
 Louis), afterwards so celebrated as Francis the First, hitherto 
 distinguished only by his fondness for jousting and hunting; his 
 ardour in the pursuits of love and gallantry, his exuberant gaycty, 
 and expensive, but not untasteful magnificence. Like Henry, 
 Francis had received a learned education, but had not, like him, 
 plunged into the muddy streams of theology and Thorn -^s Aqui- 
 nas. Imbued with the love of letters and the arts, he found 
 leisure, amidst all his dissipation, for classical poetry ; and in 
 some measure atoned for his varnished vices by elegant libations 
 to the muses. Naturally volatile and impetuous, he cherished 
 
 * Sir Chi'istopher Garnish. * 
 
72 THE CAVALCADE. 
 
 a chivalrous sentiment of honour, which, in the absence of moral 
 and religious principles, imparted to his character an occasional 
 elevation and generosity the most imposing and attractive. It 
 required all the gallantry for which he was pre-eminent, to greet 
 with enthusiasm a woman who came to divest him of the title of 
 Dauphin, and eventually, perhaps, to blast his long-cherished 
 hopes of the French crown. Such, however, was the homage 
 yielded to beauty, that, having once seen, he appeared but to 
 live for her service. Under his escort she proceeded on her jour- 
 ney with more state than comfort. Attired in a robe and mantle 
 of cloth of gold, she rode with ease and dignity a white palfrey, 
 loaded with gilt trappings, and followed by thirty-six ladies, 
 attired and mounted in a style of similar magnificence.* 
 
 In the rear of this cavalcade came three chariots (each not 
 unlike a pleasure cart), covered with purple velvet, and cloth of 
 gold, judiciously provided for such as aspired not to be eques- 
 trians } in one of which, it may be presumed, sat the little Anne 
 Boleyn. Behind these lumbering vehicles marched a gallant 
 band of archers, habited in green, their bows and arrows slung 
 with an expression of mingled gayety and impetuosity. The 
 baggage-wagons that closed the rear might have suggested a 
 comparison with the equipage of an oriental bride, or rather, 
 with the onset of a royal crusade. The sumpter-mules an- 
 nounced plenty; music floated in the air, and a succession of 
 sweet or martial strains soothed the Princess, and enlivened her 
 attendants ; nor was the gallantry of the age without its influence 
 in softening the fatigues of their pilgrimage : every lady rode 
 
 '''' It may, however, be remarked, that the distinction of crimson 
 damask, or cloth of gold, formed a criterion by which was ascertained 
 the dignity of the ridf r. - 
 
INTERVIEW WITH THE KING. 73 
 
 between two cavaliers; and the Queen found, in the Duke of 
 Angouleme, the most engaging companion. In this manner, on 
 the second afternoon, they approached Abbeville, where Louis, 
 who had anxiously awaited the arrival, was at length seized with 
 such a paroxysm of impatience, that, forgetting his infirmities, 
 he mounted his horse, and, at a little distance from the town, 
 descried the unknown beloved. Little as Mary could have sym- 
 pathized in the ardour of her aged lord, she well knew what was 
 due to courtesy, and was no sooner apprised of his presence, than 
 she made an effort to alight, to offer, as in duty bound, her ob- 
 sequious homage; but the cumbersome ornaments of her dress 
 cruelly impeded her movements. Perceiving her embarrassment, 
 the gallant monarch, with a glance expressive of surprise and 
 admiration, turned his horse into another direction, and, satisfied 
 that rumour had not exaggerated her charms, returned by a pri- 
 vate road to Abbeville, pensive and solitary ; not, perhaps, with- 
 out some compunctious recollections of the moment when, to 
 gratify his passion for Anne of Brittany, he had repudiated a 
 blameless wife,* the daughter of his predecessor, and thus sullied 
 with injustice and ingratitude an otherwise mild and beneficent 
 reign. To Anne, indeed, he had been attached with a tender- 
 ness and truth rarely witnessed in their exalted station. 
 Fidelity and harmony crowned their union ; and he was plunged 
 by her death into a melancholy that resisted all ordinary per- 
 suasives to consolation. In permitting his son-in-law to assume 
 
 * Joan of France, tlie daiighter of Louis XI., after her death canon- 
 ized as a saint. Louis XIL, when Duke of Orleans, had been en- 
 amoured of Anne, Duchess of Brittany, yrho having been first married 
 by troth to Miiximilian of Austria, was eventually married by force to 
 Charles VIII. of France. 
 7 
 
X4 MARY'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 the title of Dauphin, he tacitly disclaimed the intention of form- 
 ing a second marriage; nor was it till policy suggested the ex- 
 pediency of an alliance with Henry, that he determined to take 
 another partner to his throne, — submitting, in common with the 
 object of his choice, to the authority of statesmen, and the sup- 
 posed interests of the state : but his reluctance once vanquished, 
 he was not insensible to the eclat of espousing the fairest princess 
 in Europe, poor as was the solace, that reason permitted him to 
 hope, from the association of a youthful beauty, whose tastes 
 and propensities must be wholly unsuited to the habits and in- 
 firmities of his declining age. In the momentary glance that he 
 exchanged with his new consort, he saw enough to justify the 
 encomiums bestowed on her charms, but he saw also, with 
 dismay, the number and splendour of her attendants ] and, to pre- 
 vent future disturbance, resolved to lose no time in ridding him- 
 self of such formidable intruders. On the morrow, the nuptials 
 were solemnized in the church of St. Denis, with due pomj) and 
 ceremony; a sumptuous banquet followed; and, that nothing 
 might be omitted to conciliate the young Queen, the most marked 
 attentions were lavished on her English guests.* But, at the 
 moment that Mary saw herself the idol of Louis, and the French 
 
 * By a document preserved in Leland's Collectanea, it appears, that 
 to each of the lords and gentlemen twenty days' wages were given in 
 advance. The Duke of Norfolk was furnished with a hundred horses, 
 with an allowance of five pounds per day ; for the Marquis of Dorset 
 (viz. eighty horses), four pounds per day; the Bishop of Duresme had 
 sixty horses ; the Earl of Surrey, fifty-eight ; others of the nobility had 
 thirty or twenty each : in addition to these, were eighteen bannerets 
 and knights, with from twenty to twelve horses each : the esquires of 
 the body had thirteen and four-pence per day ; exclusive of these, John 
 Myclow headed fifty officers of the King's household. 
 
HEll LETTER TO HENRY. 75 
 
 court, where the nobility and the Duke of Angouleme were 
 emulous in offering the incense of adulation, the most cruel mor- 
 tification was inflicted on her feelings; and the King, after a 
 profusion of compliments, suddenly dismissed the whole English 
 party,* protesting he could never sufficiently evince his gratitude 
 for their care of his beloved consort Mary. 
 
 The emotions with which Mary received this intimation, may 
 be more easily conceived than described; and she has herself 
 left a genuine transcript of her feelings, in the following letter, f 
 addressed to Henry : — 
 ^' My good brother; 
 " So heartily as I can, I recommend me to your Grace, ad- 
 miring much that I have never heard from you, since my 
 departing, so often as I have sent and written to you ; and now 
 am I left heartless, alone, in effect; for on the morn next after 
 my marriage, my chamberlain with other gentlemen were dis- 
 charged. In like wise [manner] my mother Guildeford,| with 
 other my women and maid-servants, except such as never had 
 experience or knowledge how to advise, or give me counsel in 
 any time of need, which is to be feared more shortly than your 
 
 * The ladies appointed to attend on the French Queen ^Yere the Lady 
 Guildeford, the Lady Elizabeth Gray, daughter of the Marquis of Dorset, 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Ferrers, and Mrs. Anne Boleyn. The latter was permitted 
 to remain ; a favour, without doubt, conceded to the Duke of Norfolk, in 
 consideration of her being his relation. In the document, preserved by 
 Leland, Anne is called M. Boleyn; an inaccuracywhich may have been 
 supposed to lend some plausibility to the erroneous assertion of Sanders, 
 that Mary Boleyn was the elder sister. 
 
 -|- Cotton Manuscripts. 
 
 J The lady thus designated was the Lady Guildford, wife of Sir 
 Henry Guildford. 
 
76 MARY'S ATTENDANTS DISMISSED. 
 
 Grraee thouglit at the time of my departing^ as my motlier Gr. 
 can more plainly show than I can write, to whom I beseech you 
 to give audience, and if may be by any means possible, I humbly 
 request you to cause my said mother G-. to repair hither, once 
 again ; for else if any chance hap, other than well, I shall not 
 know where nor of whom to ask any good counsel, to your plea- 
 sure, nor yet to mine own advantage. I marvel much that my 
 Lord of Norfolk would at all times so lightly quit anything at 
 their request. I am well assured, that when ye know the truth 
 of every thing, as my mother Gr. can show you, ye would full 
 little have thought, I should have been thus intreated. Would 
 to Grod my Lord of York had come with me, in the room of my 
 Lord of Norfolk ; for then I am sure I should have been left 
 much more at my heart's ease, than I am now, and thus I bid 
 your Grrace farewell, and more heart's ease than I have now. 
 The 29th day of October. 
 
 ^' These go to my mother Gruildeford, of your loving sister, 
 
 '^ Mary, Queen." 
 
 The dissatisfaction of Mary could not escape the observation 
 of Francis, who, to divert her chagrin, caused a tournament to 
 be proclaimed, in honour of the nuptials, to which all the Eng- 
 lish nobility were freely invited ; and he rightly judged such 
 visiters to be best calculated to soften her disappointment. In 
 the mean while Louis dismissed the Queen's nobler attendants 
 with magnificent presents j but to the humbler and more neces-t 
 sitous part of her retinue, neither humanity nor policy prompted 
 him to offer any compensation for a disappointment by which 
 they were probably involved in beggary and ruin. Of the gay 
 and gallant train, who had so lately followed in triumph their 
 admired Princess, no vestige could be discerned in those miser- 
 
THE CORONATION. 77 
 
 ably destitute beings^ who returned like worn-out pilgrims from 
 a disastrous crusade. There were some who never reached their 
 country to relate their adventures in a foreign land ; many 
 perished under the hardships they had to encounter in a journey 
 from Abbeville to Calais or Dover — without money or other 
 means of obtaining subsistence, and, if we may believe the chro- 
 niclers,* some icent mad ; such was the wretchedness entailed 
 on those indigent retainers of the great, who lived but to swell 
 the pomp, and emblazon the prodigality of their arrogant lords. 
 It appears not whether Mary was perfectly aware of the misery 
 she had innocently occasioned. She was, perhaps, occupied with 
 more pleasing anticipations of joy and triumph. In France, as 
 in England, the name of a tournament created general interest 
 and enthusiasm. The mutual jealousies subsisting between 
 French and English knights, assumed on such occasions the high 
 tone of patriotic sentiment, and the eagerness of personal emu- 
 lation was exalted by a nice sense of national dignity and honour. 
 The challenge of Francis was therefore received with transport 
 by all who sighed for distinction, and possessed the indispen- 
 sable requisites of a splendid suit, and a mettled courser. The 
 Duke of Suffolk, too gallant to be rich, belonged not to this 
 happy number ; but Henry loved him, and, wishing to obtain, in 
 the person of his friend, that triumph which he could not chal- 
 lenge for himself, he readily furnished him with money for the 
 costly enterprise. Not one moment was to be lost by the candi- 
 dates for chivalric fame. Horses and men were hastily embarked ; 
 and the English party arrived in time to witness the ceremony 
 of Mary's coronation, on the 5th of November, in the abbey of 
 St. Denis, when the Duke of Augouleme, with his wonted gal- 
 
 ^ Hall. Speed. 
 7* 
 
78 THE TOURNAMENT. 
 
 lantry, held suspended over the young Queen's head the heavy 
 Grothic crown^, which might otherwise have crushed her beauti- 
 ful tresses. On the following day she made her public entry 
 into PariS; where, amongst other honours, she was met by three 
 thousand persons belonging to religious communities, who, in 
 France, appear to have mingled more freely than in England in 
 public processions. On either side of this fair pageant walked 
 the French and English nobles, preceded by a formidable troop 
 of Germans, and followed by the King's Scotch guard, who in 
 those days were justly considered the satellites of royalty. The 
 Queen was carried like an idol, in a chair of state, draped with 
 cloth of gold, which was not suffered to conceal her person from 
 the public gaze. On her head she wore a coronet of pearls ; 
 her neck and bosom blazed with jewels. After this fatiguing 
 ceremony, Mary was reconducted to her own apartments, and 
 from thence to a sumptuous dinner and an overwhelming ban- 
 quet. Finally, oppressed with compliments and congratulations, 
 she had to preside at the midnight-ball, in which she could not 
 but miss the gay exhilaration that her brother Henry was accus- 
 tomed to infuse into those otherwise monotonous amusements. 
 But the next day presented more interesting objects. It was the 
 tournament in honour of her auspicious nuptials : nor could she 
 refuse to participate in the exultation of her countrymen, when 
 in the face of the first nobility of England and France, she was 
 to maintain the proud pre-eminence of beauty, and receive the 
 tribute of universal homage. The scene of pleasure was in the 
 arena before the Bastile, in the Rue St. Antoine. A triumphal 
 arch was there raised, emblazoned with the arms of France and 
 England : beneath them were exhibited four targets } the first 
 of gold, the second of silver, the third of ebon-black, the fourth 
 
JOUSTS. 79 
 
 of a tawny hue ; on wliicli were incribed the names and preten- 
 sions of the respective challengers.* Near the arch was erected 
 a theatre, open on all sides, of which the most conspicuous part 
 was occupied by the royal family. The Queen stood in front of 
 the combatants ; and, proudly conscious that she was herself the 
 first object of attraction, continued with goddess-like port to dis- 
 pense her lovely smiles, and display the most bewitching graces 
 to her enraptured votaries. Whilst the much-envied Louis, reclin- 
 ing on a couch, with difficulty supported the fatigue of witness- 
 ing this scene of splendour, and was probably tempted to draw 
 some unpleasant comparisons between the fascinating Mary and 
 to her more companionable predecessor. During three days had 
 the suffering husband to brook the dissonant sounds of mirth and 
 acclamation. During three days the jousts continued with 
 frightful vehemence ; French and English knights contended 
 like Greeks and Trojans, with unappeasable fury : on either side 
 three hundred heroes entered the lists ; some fell in the field ; 
 many were disabled for life ; and Francis himself, severely 
 wounded, was forced to quit the lists. Like Achilles, Brandon 
 was everywhere the successful combatant; yet, on one occa- 
 sion, even he seemed on the brink of destruction,"}" when, at the 
 
 * He whose name was inscribed on the silver target was to tilt ; the 
 gold intimated that he should run with sharp spears and fight with 
 sharp swords ; the black shield denoted that the knight was to fight 
 on foot with swords and spears for the one hand ; the tawny shield, 
 that he should fight with a two-handed sword. 
 
 f In Drayton's Epistles the following comparison is drawn between 
 Brandon and the most accomplished cavaliers of the French court. 
 
 Alanson, a fine-timber'd man and tall, 
 
 Yet wants the shape thou art adorn'd withal ; 
 
80 DEATH OP LOUIS XII. 
 
 instigation, as was pretended, of Francis, he was encountered 
 by some gigantic stranger, supposed to have been a German 
 warrior : for a moment the issue of the combat was doubtful, 
 and the Queen, by an involuntary emotion, betrayed her secret 
 to Louisa, the intriguing mother of the Duke of Angouleme, 
 who, naturally judging her character by her own depraved heart, 
 advised her son to watch all her future movements. Brandon 
 triumphed ; but it was only to exchange with his royal mistress 
 a brief farewell, and return to England encumbered with debt, 
 and with forlorn hopes of redeeming the obligation. 
 
 The sufferings of Louis were probably abridged by the tourna- 
 ment ; he, at least, lingered but till the ensuing February, when 
 he breathed his last. Mary was once more free; but many 
 princes might aspire to her hand, and Brandon's cause seemed 
 desperate, since he could not woo, nor even approach his mis- 
 tress, without risking his favour with a jealous sovereign. For- 
 tunately this jealousy became his advocate ; believing that Francis 
 would seek to inveigle his sister into a French marriage, Henry 
 wrote to cau^tion her against a clandestine connection ; and to 
 give more weight to his admonition, transmitted it by the Duke 
 of Suffolk. 
 
 Venclome's good carriage and a pleasing eye, 
 
 Yet liath not Suffolk's pleasing majesty ; 
 
 Courageous Bourlbon, a sweet manly face, 
 
 But yet lie wants my Brandon's courtly grace ; 
 
 Proud Longavile, our court judged hath no peer, 
 
 A man scarce made was thought, whilst thou wert here ; 
 
 Countie Saint Paul, a peerless man in France, 
 
 Would yield himself a squire to bear thy lance : 
 
 Galles and Bonnearme, matchless for their might. 
 
 Under thy tow'ring blade have couch'd in fight. 
 
 I 
 
MARY'S LOVE FOE, BRANDON. 81 
 
 In the mean time Mary had written to remind her brother of 
 bis former promise to allow her to reside in England, indirectly 
 clainifing some recompense for her late obedience.* She pro- 
 tested against a foreign alliance, declaring, that rather than marry 
 a second time any other than the object of her choice, she would 
 retire to a monastery and renounce the world for ever. But this 
 declaration was softened by another, in which, with the most 
 touching expressions of sisterly regard, she added, " I think 
 every day a thousand, till I shall again behold you, and know 
 not in the world any so great comfort." It sometimes happens 
 that honest simplicity baffles craft and cunning, and that a gene- 
 rous impulse of the heart removes obstacles which might have 
 long resisted the efforts of elaborate policy. In an interview 
 with the King of France, who had hoped to match her with the 
 Duke of Ferrara, Mary frankly avowed the state of her affec- 
 tions ; and, whether flattered by her confidence, or touched by 
 her candour, he entered into her feelings, and cordially offered 
 his mediation with the King of England. Reassured by his 
 friendship, the Queen wrote to her brother, confessing or at 
 least hinting her love, and imploring his consent to her hap- 
 piness. f Henry's answer was neither prompt nor decisive; and 
 it appeared but too probable that her hopes might again be sacri- 
 ficed to the machinations of Wolsey and his ambitious sovereign. 
 
 * '' I beseech your Grace (she writes) that you -will keep all the 
 promises you made ■when I took leave ; for your Grace knows I married 
 for 2/OU7- pleasure this time.'" 
 
 ■f " On Tuesday, late at night, the French king came to visit me, and 
 after many fair words, demanded of me whether I had made any pro- 
 mise of marriage in any place ; assuring me, upon the word and honour 
 of a prince, that if I would explain, he would do for me to the best of 
 his power." — See Original Letters. 
 
S2 MARY'S SECOND MARRIAGE. 
 
 According to etiquette^ a queen-dowager of France was expected 
 to consume two livelong months in a cliamber liung with 
 blackj debarred from all customary recreations and amuse- 
 mentS; and surrounded but by objects the most solemn and 
 lugubrious. In admitting her lover's visits, Mary certainly 
 infringed this rigid rule of widowhood; but her resistance was 
 fortified by the suggestion of Francis, who strongly urged the 
 necessity of her taking a decisive step to insure her future tran- 
 quillity : emboldened by these counsels, she no longer hesitated 
 to obey the dictates of her own heart ; and, under his auspices, 
 was privately united to Charles Brandon five months after she 
 had left England, a magnificent but unwilling bride. In these 
 second nuptials, a striking contrast was presented to the proud 
 but heartless pageantry of her former marriage. The ceremony 
 was performed with the utmost privacy and simplicity in the 
 Abbey of Clugny. Mary looked for no homage ; she was greeted 
 with no acclamations ; but she listened to the promises of hope ; 
 she indulged anticipations of felicity ; she had no longer to com- 
 plain of the too ponderous crown, received without joy and 
 resigned without regret. But, in renouncing the vanities of her 
 sex, she had obtained no exemption from its fears ; and however 
 encouraged by Francis, or sanctioned by the example of her sister 
 Margaret, who, since her husband's death, had condescended to 
 espouse the Earl of Angus, she was unable to divest herself of 
 ominous forebodings ; and dreaded lest Henry should punish her 
 temerity by inflicting some signal mark of displeasure on the 
 object of her afiection. To avert this calamity, she wrote again, 
 frankly confessing her own delinquency, and exonerating Bran- 
 don : she admitted that she had been half the wooer, and that 
 it had required all her influence to induce him to infringe his 
 
MARY'S PARDON. 83 
 
 duty ; that she had protested she must be won in four days, or 
 never seen again ; that she had even refused to return to England, 
 if he declined becoming her husband. In extenuation of her 
 own conduct, she avowed her apprehension lest the King's privy 
 council should oppose her unequal marriage ; finally, she threw 
 herself on his mercy, pathetically beseeching him to save her 
 from unspeakable misery and desolation : " and now," she adds, 
 " that your Grace knoweth both the ofi"ences of which I alone 
 am the occasion, most humbly, and as your most foul sister, I 
 request you to pardon our offences ; and that it will please your 
 Grace to write to me and the Duke of Suffolk some few gentle 
 words, for that is the greatest comfort." 
 
 All the impetuosity of Henry's nature burst forth at this 
 clandestine proceeding; but he could not forget that Suffolk had 
 been his early friend ; he could not refuse to listen to Francis, who, 
 equally from policy and inclination, was become his sister's advo- 
 cate. It may, however, be doubted whether that mediation 
 would have prevailed, had it not been seconded by Wolsey's 
 powerful interest, and by the consolatory reflection, that it was 
 better his sister's dower should devolve on one of his own sub- 
 jects than on a foreign prince, over whom he could claim no 
 allegiance. Influenced by these considerations Henry graciously 
 invited Mary and her husband to return to England, where their 
 nuptials were again solemnized with suitable pomp and festivity.* 
 
 * In 1515. The May-game, described by Hall, this year, appears to 
 have possessed unusual elegance. The King, and the two Queens, and 
 their respective attendants, were met at Shooter's Hill by two hundred 
 of the King's guard, all habited in green ; one of whom, \mder the as- 
 sumed name of Robin Hood, asked permission to show his archery : per- 
 mission being granted, he whistled, and all his men at once discharged 
 
84 MARY'S DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 
 
 It is wortliy of remark that at the tournament which was expressly 
 held in honour of his bride, the Duke of Suffolk exhibited an 
 ingenious device, delicately alluding to the circumstance which 
 had brought him within the pale of royalty. To the trappings 
 of his horse, which were one half cloth of gold, and the other 
 cloth of frieze, was appended the following motto :- — 
 
 Cloth of gold, do not despise, 
 
 Tho' thou art match'd with cloth of frieze : 
 
 Cloth of frieze, be not too bold, 
 
 Tho' thou art match'd with cloth of gold.-^ 
 
 Thus happily terminated the trials of Mary j and, what is ex- 
 traordinary, it does not appear she had ever cause to repent of 
 her romantic attachment; and, amidst the blandishment of a 
 court, of which to her last moments she continued to form the 
 brightest ornament, she was still distinguished as the devoted 
 wife and tender mother. 
 
 their arrows. Again, and again, the same feat was performed ; when 
 Robin Hood invited the royal party to come to the Green Wood and see 
 how outlaws lived : consent was given, and then the horns blew, till 
 they came to an arbour made of boughs, with a hall and a great inner 
 chamber, strewed with flowers and sweet herbs, which the King much 
 praised. Then said Robin Hood, — "Sir, outlaws' breakfast is venison, 
 and therefore you must be content with such fare as we use." Then 
 the King and court sat down, and were served with venison and wine, 
 to their great contentation. On their return, they were met by two 
 ladies, a chariot drawn by five horses, on each of which rode some 
 allegorical female, and in the car appeared Flora and May, who saluted 
 the King with goodly songs ; and so brought him to Greenwich, in the 
 sijrht of the people, to their great joy and solace. 
 
 * See Percy's Reliques, Sir William Temple's Miscellanies. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 LETTERS AND EMBASSIES OF SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. — THE 
 FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. 
 
 Queen Claude — Aune's Duties as Maid of Honour — Her Position — 
 Education of young Nobles — Anne's Childhood — Rochford Hall — 
 Anne's Character — Her Acquirements — Margaret of Alan9on — Her 
 Character — Anne's Advantages — French Embassy — A Banquet — Sir 
 Thomas Boleyn's Mission — Wolsey's Ambition — His Munificence — His 
 Schemes — Sir Thomas Boleyn — His Mission to France — Plis Letters 
 to the King — Election of Charles V. as Emperor of Germany — Boleyn's 
 Letter — Birth of the Duke of Orleans — Boleyn's Diligence — Condition 
 of Henry and Francis — Visit of Charles V. — Henry's visit to Francis 
 — The Field of the Cloth of Gold — Meeting of Henry and Francis — 
 Henry's Dress — Amusements — Extravagance of the Nobles — The two 
 Queens — The Belles of France — Ballads — Francis visits Henry — 
 Anne Boleyn at the Masque — End of the Meeting at Guisnes. 
 
 The departure of Mary from France altered not the destination 
 of Anne Boleyn. By the mediation of her former mistress she 
 was transferred to the wife of Francis, the virtuous Claude, 
 whose court, formed on the model of that established by her 
 mother, Anne'of Brittany, was crowded with boys and girls, pages 
 and maids of honour. It had been the pride of that princess to 
 render her palace a seminary of instruction for the young female 
 nobility ; and, with a munificence worthy of her rank, she not 
 only admitted, but invited to her protection, all who could au- 
 thenticate their claims to honourable lineage. According to 
 Brantome, three hundred girls were thus enrolled among her 
 8 
 
86 QUEEN CLAUDE. 
 
 pupilS; and half that number included in her retainers and at- 
 tendantS; some of whom received no salary;, but lived at the 
 Queen's expense^* in apartments remote from those allotted to 
 the other sex^ with whom they were seldom permitted to associ- 
 ate. f It has been remarked, that she loved power, and affected 
 state, and never went, even to chapel, unattended by the royal 
 guards. In her female satellites she introduced pageantry of a 
 more pleasing cast : wherever she moved, youth and beauty 
 heralded her approach, and a succession of blooming girls filed 
 through the spacious apartments, alternately to enliven the dull 
 labours of, tapestry, or to lend attraction to the noisy pleasures 
 of the tournament. 
 
 The reputation of Claude, like that of her predecessor, was 
 without blemish; chaste, pious, and superstitious, she required 
 from her ladies correct principles and decorous manners. But 
 this princess possessed neither her mother's beauty nor talents ; 
 and it was her fortune to be united to a man who requited her 
 tenderness and obedience with neglect and contempt. Timid, 
 gentle, and affectionate, she neither upbraided his infidelities nor 
 resented his indifference. Ill health was added to her afflictions ; 
 and, whilst Francis was alternately engaged in war, in hunting, 
 or in gallantry, Claude lived in seclusion from all public amuse- 
 ments, occupied with her children or absorbed in her devotions, 
 and apparently rather enduring than enjoying existence. Under 
 
 * Brantome states that some of these young ladies received twenty- 
 five livres per annum ; and the salary being generally regulated by the 
 age of the parties, children might sometimes he preferred on the princi- 
 ple of economy. 
 
 f See Brantome, one of whose near relations was educated Under her 
 auspices. 
 
ANNE BOLEYN AS MAID OF HONOUR. 87 
 
 such a mistress, the maids of honour, if they had few pleasures, 
 had also few temptations; and the French court, which in the 
 latter period of this reign was destined to become the seat of 
 voluptuous vice, appears to have been at that time the school 
 of modesty and virtue. It may, perhaps, be asked, what services 
 were required of Anne Boleyn, and how far her situation was 
 calculated to promote her father's favourite object, that of form- 
 ing in his daughter an elegant and accomplished woman ? The 
 maids of honour appear to have been always considered rather 
 as ornamental than useful : neither serious charge, nor weighty 
 responsibility was ever imposed on these fair ministers of royalty, 
 whose business it was, like nymphs, to encircle their queen only 
 to shed around her the ineffable charm of grace and beauty. 
 Accustomed to attend on all public exhibitions of state and 
 splendour, to dress with taste, to move with elegance, comprised 
 their most important duties : their accomplishments, if any they 
 possessed, were reserved for the recreation of her private hours, 
 when, according to her humour, they were required to sing, 
 dance, work, and pray ; alternately associated in her labours and 
 devotions. Finally, their conduct was closely inspected by an 
 elderly goiivernante, whose duty it was to maintain amongst them 
 strict order and decorum. In the absence of schools and other 
 seminaries of instruction, an establishment such as this must 
 have offered some equivocal advantages to childhood, and few 
 attractions to youth : to the former it might supply habits of 
 docility and application, of promptitude and self-possession, emi- 
 nently useful in the intercourse of after life j nor was it a^defect 
 peculiar to the education received in a court, that it blasted, 
 by a specious semblance of maturity, the artless simplicity of 
 childhood. Amongst other vices inherent in the system of 
 
88 CHILDHOOD OF ANNE BOLEYN. 
 
 manners derived from the feudal institutions, it was not tlie 
 least, that it abridged what is usually esteemed the best and 
 happiest season of human existence : the cheerfulness of infancy 
 was soon clouded with care. At four years of age* the sons of 
 the nobility commenced their studies ; at six they were initiated 
 into the Latin grammar ; at twelve they were introduced into 
 company ; at fourteen they exhausted their strength in hunting ; 
 at sixteen they were exercised in jousting; and at eighteen, they 
 were boldly ushered into public life. The education of girls 
 was still more perniciously opposed to simplicity and nature; 
 from the earliest period they appear to have been taught to 
 imitate the manners, and even to adopt the dress, of grown 
 women : at thirteen they were not only disfigured by the stiff 
 costumes, but infected with the pride, the vanity, and folly of 
 their elder associates. From the moment that they were allowed 
 to assume their place at the tournament, they affected to dispense 
 smiles and favours on real or pretended votaries ; and whilst, 
 glittering with gold and jewels, they began to expatiate on the 
 reciprocal duties of the mistress and the servant, they learnt to 
 envy the distinctions conferred by the bold successful champion, 
 and to sigh for the sovereignty conceded to peerless beauty. 
 
 Of the elementary education of Anne Boleyn, little is known, 
 and nothing detailed ; but it is impossible not to suspect that it 
 must have been calculated rather to foster pride and vanity, than 
 to exercise the sympathies, or create the habits, of domestic life. 
 From the cradle, she had been an object of peculiar attention; 
 her beauty attracted notice ; her quick parts, and graceful de- 
 meanour, called forth spontaneous admiration. It is traditionally 
 
 ■5^ See Hardinge's Chronicle ; which, though written under Henry the 
 Sixth, describes the customs prevalent in subsequent reigns. 
 
ROCHFORD HALL. 89 
 
 recorded, that even her jDromising childhood gave some presage 
 of greatness ; and in this, as in other instances, the prediction 
 might contribute to its own accomplishment. All her impres- 
 sions, all the associations of her opening mind, were calculated 
 to create or to cherish ambitious sentiments; dreams of splen- 
 dour floated around her infant head ; and whilst she was taught 
 to lisp the illustrious pedigree of the Howards, she learnt also 
 to contemplate, with reverence, the portraits of her father's 
 maternal ancestors, and to unravel the complicated genealogies 
 of the Botelers or Butlers, and Ormonds, many of whom had 
 consecrated, on the scaffold, their fidelity to the house of Lan- 
 caster ; nor could it be to her a matter of indifference, that the 
 very roof under which she first saw the light had been tenanted 
 by more than one royal personage. The manor of Rochford 
 was originally conveyed by Henry the Second to a Norman 
 knight, who assumed with it the title of Baron Rochford. Under 
 Edward the Third, this family becoming extinct, the lordship 
 of Rochford, with its stately mansion, was transferred to William 
 Bohun, Earl of Northampton, from whose descendants it passed 
 by marriage to Thomas of Woodstock, and, from want of male 
 heirs, reverted to the crown. A royal grant conferred it on 
 Boteler, Earl of Ormond, afterwards created Earl of Wiltshire ; 
 but this nobleman was the victim of his devotion to the Red 
 Rose, and Rochford Hall, once more bereaved of its lord, came 
 into the possession of an illustrious lady, Anne, Duchess of 
 Exeter, who received it from her brother, Edward the Fourth. 
 By this bigoted princess it was bestowed on the church ; but, 
 during that tempestuous period, even the church held its pos- 
 sessions by a precarious tenure ; and Rochford Hall was granted 
 
 to Earl Rivers, the father of the celebrated Elizabeth Woodville, 
 
 8* 
 
90 ANNE'S CHARACTER, 
 
 whom Edward raised to the throne. It would be fanciful to 
 suggest that this passage in the traditionary chronicle* of Roch- 
 ford Hall might have operated powerfully on Anne Boleyn's 
 future character. It iS; however, certain, that the romantic for- 
 tunes of the widowed beauty must have been associated with her 
 earliest recollections ; and there is a remarkable coincidence in 
 the answer which each heroine gave to the solicitations of her 
 royal suitor, — '^ I am too good for your mistress, and not worthy 
 to become your Queen.'' Another circumstance, trivial in itself, 
 might inflame an aspiring temper. Anne recalled, with her 
 name, that of a princess, the daughter of the chaste Elizabeth, 
 who had actually espoused her mother's brother, the high-spi- 
 rited Lord Thomas Howard. With whatever avidity she might 
 listen to these nursery tales of hereditary honour, she was rather 
 stimulated than discouraged by her aspiring parents, with whom 
 pride and ambition must have completely prevailed over nature 
 and tenderness, since they parted without reluctance from this 
 engaging child, whose happiness and improvement they surren- 
 dered to the care of strangers. 
 
 From the moment that she entered Mary's suite, Anne was 
 devoted to a life of honourable servitude — an irksome, though 
 splendid captivity, in which it probably became her pastime, or 
 her solace, to enact, in fancy, the part of a royal bride, and anti- 
 cipate the raptures that awaited an idolized Queen. In her per- 
 sonal qualities she had a passport to affection ; — frank, sprightly, 
 and graceful, she constantly delighted her teachers, and surpassed 
 her competitors. Her literary acquirements were not remark- 
 able 3 but it may be presumed that, in common with the prin- 
 
 * Morant's Essex. 
 
IIER EDUCATION. 91 
 
 cesses of France and England,* she had made some proficiency 
 in the Latin language; she excelled in music, singing, dancing, 
 and all those lighter accomplishments suited to her sex and sta- 
 tion. Female cultivation was not in vogue, till the example of 
 Sir Thomas More determined Henry the Eighth to imbue his 
 daughters with solid learning; and as, with Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
 it was the first object of solicitude to see his children brilliant 
 and attractive, he eagerly embraced the opportunity of giving 
 Anne those more elegant accomplishments which were then 
 almost exclusively to be acquired in France. She was, however, 
 doomed to consume a large portion of her time in the monoto- 
 nous occupation of the needle, and, with other patient victims, 
 to pore over the mazes of interminable tapestry. The sombre 
 aspect of Claude's court might, perhaps, have checked her native 
 buoyancy of spirits, but for the genial influence difiused by Mar- 
 garet the Duchess of Alangon.f This princess, the beloved 
 sister of Francis the First, was learned and ingenious ; inherit- 
 ing her mother's talents without her vices, and participating in 
 all her brother's finer qualities, unalloyed by their opposing fol- 
 lies : mild and magnanimous, with courage for every trial, and 
 
 ^ Dr. Thomas Linacre, the first president of the College of Physi- 
 cians, instituted by Henry the Eighth, was preceptor to Mary Queen of 
 France, and composed a grammar for her use. 
 
 f Aftei-wards Queen of Navarre. She composed a volume of poems 
 called La 3Iarguerite des 3IarguerUes, comprising hymns, spiritual songs, 
 and sprightly colloquies in verse, called comedies, and which in some 
 degree approximate to the dramatiqucs proverhes, so popular in French 
 and Spanish literature. She produced also Les Cent Nouvelles, a work 
 which appears to have been highly esteemed by her contemporaries. — 
 Most of these tales are said to have been composed in her travelling 
 litter, to beguile the irksomeness of a fatiguing journey. 
 
92 THE DUCHESS OF ALANgON. 
 
 resources for every emergency^ slie devoted lier leisure to letters 
 and the arts, and was alternately a lover and a votary of the 
 muses. Delighting in the pleasures of conversation, she drew 
 to her circle men of wit and learning, and found in the collision 
 of kindred minds an intellectual gratification far superior to 
 the contemplation of broken lances and prancing steeds, or the 
 mummery of masques and pantomimes. From her taste for 
 liberal discussion, and the independence of her opinions, she in- 
 curred the charge of being well affected to the Lutheran contro- 
 versy ; but these first prepossessions, if they ever existed, were 
 probably counteracted by the influence of Francis, who had suffi- 
 cient penetration to discover the intimate connection between 
 civil and religious liberty ; nor is it improbable that Margaret 
 was herself too much of a latitudinarian, to enter with ardour 
 into the controversies of novel sects or erratic sectaries.* It is 
 generally allowed, that she never quitted the pale of the Catho- 
 lic church, although she neither dissembled her conviction of its 
 errors, nor disguised her contempt for its corruptions. In reality, 
 Margaret was a femme d^esprit^ better fitted to appreciate a 
 hon mot than to discuss a theological dogma. To the last hour 
 of her life she continued to inveigh against the pope, and to 
 attend high mass, — to laugh at penances and absolution, yet 
 admit a confessor, and occasionally fast like a rigid devotee. 
 From such inconsistency the strongest mind is not exempted, 
 when to the power of reason is opposed the influence of habit 
 and sympathy, and all those nameless feelings and associations 
 created in infancy, which form so large a share in the sum of 
 
 * Francis deprecated the new sects, as hostile to existing govern- 
 ments. " My sister," said he, "loves me too well, not to be of that 
 religion which is most usefvil to the state." 
 
FRENCH EMBASSY. 93 
 
 every human cliaraetcr. But whatever might be Margaret's 
 religious opinions, she was unquestionably the patroness of 
 scholars, letters, and the arts ; the friend of poets, scholars, and 
 philosophers. Nor can it be doubted that Anne Boleyn derived 
 incalculable advantage from her early intercourse with one of 
 the most brilliant women of the age ; but her attachment to the 
 Reformation, so often attributed to this princess, had probably a 
 different source, and was not inspired till a much later period. 
 
 During the eight years that Anne Boleyn resided in France, 
 she appears to have had several opportunities of seeing her father, 
 whose oflGicial duties conducted him to Paris. It is well kaewn 
 that an embassy was not then intrusted to any single individual, 
 however eminent or approved; but composed of several distin- 
 guished men, whose numerous retinue displayed all the pomp of 
 royal magnificence. In 1518, Francis sent to Henry the Bishop 
 of Paris and Admiral Bennivet, accompanied by fourscore noble- 
 men, whose suite, amounting to the enormous number of twelve 
 hundred persons, excited in the populace surprise, not unmixed 
 with displeasure ; from the court, however, they experienced a 
 most gracious reception. The Earl of Surrey, at the head of the 
 English nobility, met their party on Blackheath,* when every 
 English gentleman gave his arm to a French cavalier; and in 
 this amicable manner they walked two-and-two till they reached 
 London; where the admiral was lodged in Merchant-tailors' Hall, 
 and his attendants hospitably entertained by the principal citizens. 
 The ostensible pretext of this embassy was a contract of marriage 
 between two children still in the cradle, — the Dauphin, or, as he 
 was called, the Dolphm, of France, and Mary, Princess of Eng- 
 land : its real object was the restitution of Tournay to France, 
 
 * Hall. 
 
94 ENGLISH BANQUET. 
 
 wHcli its monarch hoped to obtain by flattering Henry, and 
 bribing Wolsey; but all political objects, whether real or ficti- 
 tious; appear to have been absorbed in two splendid entertainments 
 successively given by the Cardinal and the King to their foreign 
 guests; and it is worthy of remark/ that the first was an evening 
 party, approaching, in elegance and refinement, to the style of 
 modern manners; whilst the latter was marked by a mixture of 
 pedantry, epicurism, and gorgeous mummery, which by prescrip- 
 tive right still maintained their place at court, in defiance of the 
 King's better taste.* 
 
 * It commenced in the morning, with an oration from Dr. Tunstall, and 
 ended at midnight with a banquet. After a sumptuous dinner, which 
 might have required Aj ax-like powers of digestion, the ambassado-rs 
 were conducted to Whitehall, where stood a rock crowned at the sum- 
 mit with five emblematical trees ; of which the first, an olive, bore the 
 shield of Papal Rome ; the second, a pine-apple, designated Austria ; 
 the third, a rose-bush, was the symbol of England ; on the fourth, a 
 branch of lilies, were suspended the arms of France ; the fifth, a 
 pomegranate, supported those of Spain. By this pageant was verified 
 the mystic union supposed to be formed against the Turks, the common 
 enemies of Christendom. In compliment to the espousals, a lady was 
 exhibited on the rock, supporting in her lap a dolphin, a troop of knights 
 and ladies issued from a cavern, and to a tournay succeeded a masque 
 and dancing. For the accommodation of the foreign guests, an extra 
 personage was judiciously introduced, who, in the vagug character of 
 Report, very obligingly explained in French, the meaning (if any there 
 were) of this puerile pastime. After this a banquet was served, at 
 which stood a cupboard of twelve stages, consisting of two hundred and 
 sixty dishes. 
 
 The scene of the Cardinal's entertainment was York House. After a 
 solemn banquet, at which the ladies and gentleman were placed in alterna- 
 tion, the company were saluted by minstrels, with whom commenced the 
 masquerades : other visitors followed in disguise, by whom cards and 
 
SIR THOMAS BOLEYN'S MISSION. 95 
 
 Henry piqued himself too much on the punctilios of courtesy, 
 not to offer a suitable return for the complaisance of Francis. 
 Early in 1519, an embassy proceeded to France, of which the 
 Bishop of Ely and the Earl of Worcester were the ostensible 
 chiefs, but in which Sir Thomas Boleyn was destined to be the 
 efficient personage. They were received with singular respect ; 
 and that nothing might be wanting to their satis-faction, a ban- 
 queting-house was constructed within the walls of the Bastile, 
 where night after night was spent in music and dancing, feasting 
 and revelry. Sir Thomas Boleyn had afterwards to take a journey 
 into Champagne, for the express purpose of seeing the infant 
 dauphin, of whose health and comeliness he transmitted a most 
 favourable report. On his return to Paris, affairs of more im- 
 portance engrossed his attention : he had in reality to perform a 
 complicated task, since he was not only the King's ambassador, 
 but the agent of his minister, the emissary and confidant of 
 Wolsey. 
 
 To explain this circumstance, it is necessary to revert to the two 
 contingencies which in that age excited the strongest interest in 
 Europe, — the nomination of a pope, and the election of an em- 
 dice were introduced : and after a game of mumcliance, the minstrels 
 struck up, and in came twelve gentlemen disguised, with as many ladies : 
 the first was the King himself, leading the French Queen ; the second, 
 the Duke of Suffolk and Lady Dauheny, the Lord Admiral Howard and 
 Lady Guilford, Sir Francis Bryan and Lady Elizabeth Blount ; after thera 
 twelve knights disguised bearing torches. All these thirty-six persons 
 were dressed in green, and danced together. The ladies wore tires 
 made of braids of damask gold, with long hairs of white gold. All these 
 masquers danced at one time : at length their vizors were discarded ; 
 and the ambassadors recognising the King, returned him liearty thanks 
 for his courtesy. 
 
96 WOLSEY'S AMBITION. 
 
 peror. One of these critical moments was now eagerly anticipated 
 from the approaching dissolution of Maximilian. Among the 
 candidates for the imperial crown, Francis and Charles of Castile 
 were the most prominent personages. Nor was it possible that 
 Henry should remain a passive spectator of the contest : his first 
 impulse had been to grasp the envied diadem to himself; the 
 next to secure it to his nephew Charles ; but Wolsey, for whom 
 Francis had lately procured a cardinal's hat, suspended his pur- 
 pose, until he should have ascertained which of the two com- 
 petitors would be the most competent to secure his own elevation 
 to the papal chair — that dignity which was henceforth to be the 
 ultimate object of all his political intrigues and versatile specu- 
 lation. Could Wolsey have recalled the waking dreams of his 
 humble youth, he might have recoiled with momentary terror 
 from the gigantic phantom which now filled his imagination. 
 A few years since to have possessed an episcopal see might have 
 contented his utmost wishes : he had now three bishoprics, ex- 
 clusive of the archiepiscopal see of York ; the G-reat Seal of Eng- 
 land was committed to his hands ; and by the Pope's authority, 
 he had lately assumed the control of a legatine court, which in- 
 vested him with absolute supremacy in cases of ecclesiastical juris- 
 diction ; yet Wolsey was not satisfied ; for there still remained 
 in St. Peter's chair a pinnacle of solitary pre-eminence that could 
 alone appease his restless ambition ; and he panted for the mo- 
 ment when he should no longer be the favourite but the ruler 
 of kings, and the sacred arbiter of Europe. In cherishing these 
 dreams of grandeur, it is but just to acknowledge that he im- 
 bibed a spirit of princely munificence. In some degree his vices 
 were emblazoned by his genius ; and, like another Leo, he drew 
 to his palace men of kindred talents ; patronized the useful and 
 
HIS SCHEMES. 9T 
 
 ornamental arts ; encouraged and protected scholars and authors ; 
 founded schools and colleges ; and in part atoned for his ostenta- 
 tion and arrogance by acts of liberality and beneficence.* The 
 regeneration of the Catholic church was one of Wolsey's great 
 projects; and with the zeal of a reformer, he instituted a rigid 
 inquisition respecting monasteries, discouraged the monastic life, 
 and unintentionally furnished a precedent for the future suppres- 
 sion of religious orders. Above all, in disseminating instruction 
 for youth, this self-created pope accelerated the progress of that 
 reformation, which he most deprecated, and most desired to 
 suppress. 
 
 With what precise views Wolsey persisted in seeking the 
 papacy, it is now useless to inquire, and futile to conjecture. 
 Among other schemes, he is said to have entertained the idea of 
 combining, in a confederacy against the Turks, all the powers 
 of Christendom, and perhaps redeeming the city of Constantino 
 from Mahometan thraldom. For the present, it was sufficient 
 that he desired to render himself independent of a young capri- 
 cious prince, whose favour could alone be kept, as won, by sub- 
 mission and adulation. 
 
 Amongst the confidential agents, to whom his interests were 
 intrusted, it may seem strange, that he should have selected Sir 
 Thomas Boleyn, the son-in-law of the Duke of Norfolk, who 
 
 * Eramus mentions, with praise, the scholars and divines domesti- 
 cated at his table ; his chaplains were all learned men. Wolsey founded 
 several colleges and schools, and suppressed, at his first visitation, many 
 religious houses. Amongst other useful societies, of which he was the 
 foxmder or the protector, the College of Physicians was, by his influence 
 embodied under Henry the Eighth. 
 
 9 
 
98 CHARACTER OE SIR THOMAS BOLEYN. 
 
 laad been among tlie first to rebuke liis arrogance, and was not 
 the last to experience bis resentment. 
 
 At the commencement of his career, Sir Thomas Boleyn had 
 aspired but to be a courtier : to this character he now added that 
 of a statesman ; and it required no extraordinary effort of saga- 
 city to discover, that the King's favourite was greater than the 
 first peer in England, and that, should the house of Howard 
 stand or fall, no better friend could be found than the oracle of 
 his sovereign. It is, however, but just to remark, that, in be- 
 coming Wolsey's agent, he was neither his minion nor his syco- 
 phant, and that in political transactions, he extorted esteem by 
 his honourable punctuality; opposing discretion to craft; to 
 vacillation, firmness ; and to treachery, fidelity. Without shin- 
 ing parts, he maintained his ground against eminent men ; and 
 without literary talents, acquired the reputation of a scholar, 
 and the respect due to a patron of letters. More cautious than 
 enterprising, he appears to have been considered as the safety- 
 valve of every treaty or negotiation in which he assumed a part, 
 and, as prudence prompted the suggestions, success commonly 
 crowned the efforts, of Sir Thomas Boleyn.^ In the embassy 
 to France (in 1519) he was chosen by Henry to adjust with 
 Francis the ceremonial of his intended interview with that 
 prince, in Picardy, and authorized to amuse him with fair pro- 
 fessions respecting the imperial election. At the same time, he 
 was commissioned by Wolsey to ascertain the intentions and 
 abilities of the French monarch, in recommending a candidate 
 to the papal see. The difference of these objects is distinctly 
 traced in a regular correspondence which the ambassador con- 
 
 * See Loyd's Worthies. But the character is exaggerated.— Sir 
 Thomas Boleyn is also celebrated by Erasmus. 
 
HIS LETTER TO THE KING. 99 
 
 tinued with Henry and Wolsey ; and in which, some few sub- 
 jects of national interest, such as the indemnity of English 
 merchants, or the security of the English flag, are occasionally 
 introduced, in such a manner as plainly shows they were consi- 
 dered of minor importance. 
 
 The two following letters, written by Sir Thomas Boleyn, on 
 the same day, to the King and the Cardinal, coincide in exem- 
 plifying the elegant gallantry of Francis, and in describing the 
 mixture of rudeness and mas-nificence that characterized his 
 court : — 
 
 Parl^, March 14, 1519.* 
 " To the King.f 
 ^^Pleasyth it yo"" highnesse to understand that yesterday I 
 delivered yo' letter to the king here, w'' as harty and effectuous 
 recomendacions from your grace as I could devise ; and after he 
 had at length and w'' good playsure read over yo"" said letter, I 
 declared to him, for my credence, according to the instruecions 
 which yo' grace late sent me, first the effect of yo"" sa"^ letter. 
 And after I shewed him how great desire yo' grace hath for the 
 increase of his hono"", and what pleasure and consolation yo"" high- 
 nesse taketh in the same, considering the unfeyned amity and 
 alliance that is established betwixt you both, which yo' grace 
 believeth to be so rooted in yo' hearts, that what high honour 
 or advancement shall fortune to come to him, the fruit thereof 
 shuld redonde to yo' highnesse ; whcrefor to advaunce him to the 
 preferment of this imperial dignitie, yo"" grace, upon knowledge 
 of his further intent and mind, shal be glad to employe yself, 
 
 * Cotton MSS. Caligula, D. VII. 48. 
 
 f In these letters, the more uncouth peculiarities of the old ortho- 
 graphy are correctetl. 
 
100 BOLEYN'S LETTER TO THE KING. 
 
 as well by word and writing, as by acts and deeds, to the best 
 of your power, whereupon lie may assuredly trust ; wbereunto 
 he, taking off bis bonett, tlianked heartily yo'" highnesse, and 
 sayd that the great love and favor which he well percciveth that 
 yo*" grace bearyth towardes him is the greatest comfort that he 
 hath upon earth, and for the great bono' that yo' grace sheweth 
 to him in advancing him to the imperiall dignitie, which is his 
 most desire, he saith he knoweth not how nor by what meanes^l 
 he may recompence yo"" highnesse in doing any thing so moch 
 for yo"" grace, but he sayeth, as long as he liveth, in any thing 
 that he may doo that shal be to yo'' pleasure, he shall always be 
 as ready and as glad to do it as he would be to do for himself, 
 and desireth no thing more than to have knowledge wherein he 
 might employe himself to do yo'' highnesse some pleasure. Re- 
 hearsing to me that by the reason of the perfecte love and 
 aliaunce betwixt you both, he reckoneth yo' highnesse to be of 
 great might and power, saying that what with yo"" owne puissance 
 and with his help, which he saith yo'" grace shall alwayes have 
 ready at yo*" commandment, there is neither honno', dignitie, nor 
 other thing in Chrystendome, but that yo'' highnesse shall attain 
 and order it at yo" own pleasure, and told me that he could not 
 expresse to meet with his tongue the due thanks that he giveth 
 y'" g'^^ in his heart, for the loving kindnesse that he found in yo*" 
 highnesse, and sayd that when ye both mete, which he trusts 
 shall be shortly, your grace shall knowe his hart, no man lyving 
 better ; whereunto I sayd that yo'" highnesse thanked him spe- 
 cially, causid that amongs all his other things and great affaires, 
 he is so much desirous to meet, visit and see yo"" grace, and told 
 him of your conformable mind thereunto, shewing to him 
 the time, place, and manner as is at length expressed in the 
 
HIS LETTER TO WOLSEY. 101. 
 
 instructions that I ha ... . whereunto he said that he is deter- 
 mined to see yo"" grace, though he should come but himself, his 
 page, and his lacquey, and that no business shall lette it : how 
 be it, for the time, place, and order of the meeting, he said 
 he would commune w' the great master, and w'in ij or iij dayes 
 he wold send him to Paris, where he should make me answer 
 of every article concerning the said entreview and meeting ; and 
 because that the queue here hath been very sicke thies ij dayes, 
 and in great daunger ; as I have more at large written of the 
 same to my Lord Legat and Cardinall of England, which I know 
 sure woll shewe yo"" grace thereof. I can as yet have no answer 
 what order shal be taken for the marchaunts matiers. Beseching 
 the Holy Trinity long to preserve yo"" highnesse. From Paris 
 this xiiij"" day of March." 
 
 Paris, March 14, 1519.* 
 ^^ Pleaseth it yo' grace to understand, that the xith day of 
 this month I wrot to your grace my last letters, and the same 
 day at afternoon the queen head and my ladyf took thier journey 
 and went in horse-litters from hence to have gone towardes Saint 
 Germayn, vi leagues out of this towne, where is prepaired for 
 her to be in chylde bedde ; but the same afternoon by the way 
 the queen was so troubled with sickness, that she was fain to 
 take her lodging at a very small village, ii leagues out of this 
 towne, which is called La Porte de Neilly ; and that night she 
 was in great danger, insomuch as word came to this towne the 
 next morning that she was dead, and soon after the bruit ran 
 through all this town, that she was delivered of a son, but 
 
 * Cotton MS. Caligula, D. VII. 47. 
 
 I Louisa, Duchess of Angouleme, the mother of Francis. 
 9 * 
 
102 BOLEYN'S LETTER TO WOLSEY. 
 
 neither is true : this caused me that I went not to the court on 
 Saturday^ as I was appointed; w' the great master ; but yester- 
 day, the king knowing that I had letters to him, sent for me to 
 come to him thither, where I saw the king's lodging, and the 
 queue's, and my lady, the king's mother, and the Duchesse of 
 Alaunsons, and the great masters at the village above said, Grod 
 knoweth, full poorly lodged, but that it is well dressed with 
 good stuffs. The great master hath no chimney in his chamber, 
 but there is a great oven, and this order is taken for the quene, 
 that if she may have health to be conveyed by water from this 
 village to Saint Grermayn, she shall be had thither, and close 
 barges with chambers made in them be ordained for that pur- 
 pose : if not, by force she must remayn and be delyvered there ; 
 as she shall do, I shall send yo"" grace word. 
 
 ^^ And whan I came to La Porte de Neilly, where at my coming 
 the king was at dinner, and the great master had dined, the 
 great master took me by the arm, and led me in to a little low 
 house, where the king dyned, and as soon as he rose from dinner 
 he came to me, and bad me to come w*'' him, into his bed- 
 chamber, for a lowe there was too many folks. So I went to 
 his chamber, with him, the great master, and Robert, and no 
 more, where I delivered the king's letters, and had answers of 
 the same, as by a letter that I this tyme adressyd to the king's 
 highnesse your grace may perceive. That doon, I delivered to 
 him a letter from y'" grace, with humble recomendacions as I 
 could devise, and told him half, that next vnto the king's high- 
 nesse yo"" grace would always do vnto him above all other princes 
 the honourable service and pleasure that may lie in your power, 
 and as much ye shall tender his exaltation, weale, and suretie, as 
 any other shall do, as by experience he shall right well perceive. 
 
BOLEYN'S LETTER TO WOLSEY. 103 
 
 " Whereto he answered me, that he knew by experience the 
 good-will and favour that yo'" grace beareth to him in his affaires, 
 and said that yo"" grace was the first that ever he counselled with 
 for this aliaunce, which by yo"" great wisdome and policy, hath 
 taken so great travaill and pain for him that it is to his great 
 honnor and comfort, and the weal of him and all his subjects. 
 iVnd he beseeching yo"" grace that ye will let for no pains but as 
 ye have begun that it woul please you so to continue, and on his 
 behalf, he saith your grace shall not find him towardes you in- 
 grate nor forgetful, and sayeth that in recompence of that ye 
 have done for him, and trusteth will do for him, and for the 
 singular love and favour which he beareth to you, considering 
 that ye be a man of the church and one of the greatest and most 
 principal, he saith, he thinketh, it is in the king's highnesse 
 and in him to do you most good, which he promiseth by the 
 word of a king to do for yo'" grace, if it please you to accept it; 
 and thus he hath desired me to write to you, that if it please 
 you to pretend to be the head of the church, if in case any thing 
 shuld fall of the pope, he sayeth, he will assure you first xiiij 
 cardinalls for him ; also, of the compaynes which be in devision, 
 the Colonnas and the Ursinas at Rome, he will assure you the 
 whole company of the Ursinas ; he reckoneth also a great help 
 of one he calleth a valiant man, and of great reputacion there, 
 Marcautyn de Colompna ; and finally assuredly reckons that now 
 the king's highnesse and he be all one, that there shall neither 
 emperor nor pope be made, but such as pleaseth them : he also 
 told me, that this offer that he maketh yo"" grace proceedeth of 
 perfect love and inward trust that he hath in the king's high- 
 nesse ', he sayeth, if he had not more trust and confidence in him 
 than in any other prince living, he wold be loth that any other 
 
104 EOLEYN'S LETTER TO WOLSEY 
 
 man shiild be pope : this, witb. more, whereof this is the sum, 
 he told me, how he is minded to do for your grace. If your 
 grace accept not this offer, I think he will do his best for some 
 of his own cardinalls, if any such chance fall. After this, that 
 I had been more than an hour with the king, alone, came unto 
 him the ambassador of Denmark, who, after he had been awhile 
 w' the king, a servant of his was called to be trushman* be- 
 twixt them, and then was called in the Duke of Albanye.f What 
 the matter is, I know not, but the Duke of Albanye is made 
 privy to it. At what tyme the great master toold me that the 
 Duke of Albanye shuld be at the meting of the king's highnesse 
 and the king here ; and also an ambassado"" out of Scotland, 
 where he saied he trusted some good conclusion shuld be taken 
 for the Duke of Albanye ', also the great master told me, that 
 the king his master and he devised of yo' grace, rehersing in 
 effecte the substance, how he is minded to do for yo' grace, as I 
 have written afore ; also the great master told me, that if the 
 sicknesse of the queen here had not been, he shuld have taken 
 his journey as to-morow to Montpelier ward, and bad me write, 
 assuredly that there shall no thing be there treated nor concluded 
 but yo'' grace shall be advertysed of y* ; he hath also desired of 
 me the copy of the billj of the nombre of such persones as shall 
 come w' the king's highnesse to the meting, which I have deli- 
 vered to him; he hath also promised me, that I shall have 
 answer w*in thies iii dayes, of every article touching the meting, 
 and entreview, and also the order of redresse of the merchaunts, 
 
 "^ Interpreter. 
 
 f The Duke of Albany was fomenting troubles in Scotland. 
 X A list of the English persons to be present at the interview be- 
 tween Henry and Francis in Picardv. 
 
ELEC nON OF CHARLES V. 105 
 
 which, as soone as I can have, I shall send to yo"" grace w' all 
 diligence; beseching the Holy Trynyte, long to preserve yo" 
 gee. From Parys, this xiiijth day of March. 
 
 Youres most bound."* 
 " To myn most especiall and singular good lord, 
 
 my Lord Legat, Cardinall, and Chaunceler of 
 
 England." 
 
 The contest for the crown of Ccesar having terminated, Sir 
 Thomas Boleyn hastily announces the election of Charles the 
 Fifth, not without noticing the wayward attempts of the Duch- 
 ess Louisa to disguise her chagrin and disappointment. 
 
 " Pleasith y* youre grace to understand, that the first day of 
 this month I wrote my last letters to your grace, and as yet the 
 king is not ret'rned from Melun, where he hath been almost this 
 fortnight a hunting. But hither is come letters w' great diligence 
 to the king catholiques ambassadour from Frankfort, and from 
 my lady of Savoye,f specifying how the king her master the 
 xxviij day of the last month, at x of the clocke afore noon, by 
 the assent and voices of all the electours, was chosen empcro"", and 
 because there is yet no letters come out of Almayn to the king 
 nor my lady here of this matter, my lady marvelleth much, and 
 sayth she feareth that Mons. L'Admirall;]: is letted or evill in- 
 treatyd, because she hath no word from him, or else their post 
 
 * From the tenor of the foregoing letters, it should seem that Sir 
 Thomas Boleyn had no suspicion of the duplicity which Henry prac- 
 tised on this occasion ; but it is notorious, that Dr. Pace, another confi- 
 dential agent, had been despatched to Germany, with positive orders 
 to promote the interest of Charles the Fifth. 
 
 f Margaret, Governess of the Netherlands. 
 
 J Bonivet. 
 
106 BIETH OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS. . 
 
 w* letters is taken or stopped by the way. Neverthelesse my 
 lady sayth if this be true saying, the king her sonne may nat be 
 empero"", she is right glad that the king catholique is chosen; 
 saying that though the king her sonne is not empero', yet it is a 
 comfort to her that the king her sonnes son in law is empero^''' 
 How be it the truth is, that both the king and my lady, and all 
 this court; had rather any other had been chosen empero*" than 
 the king catholique. My lady telleth me that she is assured it 
 hath cost him a great good to atteyn to this empire, insomuch 
 she sayth she knoweth for a truth, one of the electours hath had 
 of him ii hundreth thousand crownes, and naming him of Co- 
 loigne. She sayth also that the electours amongst them all hath 
 not had of the king here.'^f 
 
 The birth of Henry, Duke of Orleans,^ furnished a different 
 subject of correspondence; and, as might be expected, Sir Thomas 
 Boleyn minutely details the ceremony of his christening, which 
 was performed at midnight, Henry being himself one of the 
 sponsors. On this occasion, the ambassador presented to the 
 French Queen the salt-spoon^ the cup, and layer of gold, which 
 were graciously received ; ^^and the King came, and thanked the 
 King's Highnesse of the great honor that he had done him; 
 saying, that whenever it shall fortune his Highnesse to have a 
 child, he shall be glad to do for him in like manner."§ In con- 
 
 ■^ At that time Charles was contracted to the second daughter of 
 Francis, Louisa, who died before the age of nine years. 
 
 f The duchess was mistaken in this calculation : it was, in reality, 
 Francis, and not Charles, who had expended large sums in bribing the 
 electors. 
 
 J Afterwards Henry the Second. 
 
 2 The ambassador then details in what manner he had distributed 
 
DETAILS OF THE CHllISTENING. 107 
 
 eluding his letter, Sir Thomas Bolejn observes with character- 
 istic caution, ^^ There is much speaking in the country, and 
 more at Paris, of many strange bruits, whereof this bearer can 
 show your Grace by mouth." 
 
 the hundred pounds intrusted to his discretion. '<And the hundreth 
 pounds that your grace sent to reward is bestowed as followeth ; first, 
 the nurse one hundred crownes; to iiij rockers of the yong duke's 
 chamber ij hundreth crownes ; to iij gentillwomen of the queue's privy 
 chamber, called Femes de Re, a hundreth and fyfty crownes ; and at 
 the offering xx nobles, which amounteth in all to the some of one hun- 
 dreth pounds sterling, and xv crownes over, all which money was paid 
 
 and delyvered by the hands of York, bearer, and Richmont, 
 
 which can shewe your grace well enough thereof. 
 
 "Furthermore, as this bearer can shewe your grace, have been with 
 me at my lodging, the king's officers at arms which with importune 
 
 asked reward, saying, that the Duke of Urbino at the christening 
 
 of the Dolphin, rewarded them, and with the best answer that I could 
 make them, nothing apaised, they went away discontent ; neverthelesse 
 I hear by honourable folks here, that the gift to the queen, and the 
 money that is given in reward, is sufficiently honorably and largely 
 enough for the king's hon'". 
 
 *'I have also laid out xil. xiJ5. in sending divers times min own folks, 
 and other, that I have hired, to your grace into England, and to Calais, 
 with letters in post and otherwise, the which xi/. xijs. and xv crownes 
 that I have layd out now, more than the hundreth poundes that your 
 grace sent me by York, to give in reward, is owing me, and for as 
 moch as the last money that your grace sent me for a hundreth dayes 
 ended the xxvth day of May, last, I beseech you both to send me such 
 diet money, as shall best please your grace, and that the said xil. xijs. 
 and XV crownes that is owing me may be also delivered to my priest, 
 which shall attend upon your grace for it. 
 
 " Also, I receyved yesterevcn from your grace a letter dated the 
 xxviijth day of May, concernyng the marchants matters, and divers 
 
108 COALITION OF HENRY AND FRANCIS. 
 
 Althougli these diplomatic records afford not any interesting 
 information^ respecting the state of Sir Thomas Boleyn's family, 
 they furnish ample proofs of the diligence and punctuality with 
 which he discharged his official duties, and almost lead us to 
 regret that he should have been an obsequious courtier. 
 
 It is no small source of amusement to a reflective mind to 
 compare characters and events, of whi(ih time and experience 
 have taught us to form a correct judgment, with the opinions 
 once entertained of their relative value and importance. In the 
 year 1520, no crisis was anticipated by the Pope, or the clergy, 
 although Luther had already launched the bolt, with whose 
 reverberation the powers of the Vatican were soon to tremble. 
 On the eve of the most astonishing revolution ever achieved by 
 human agency, no alarm appears to have been experienced ; 
 neither statesmen nor cavaliers had leisure for the controversy 
 between Luther and Tetzlar, whilst all Europe looked to the 
 coalition of Henry and Francis, as the prelude of some political 
 drama, in which each of these great princes was to enact an im- 
 portant part. Endless were the questions and consultations, and 
 voluminous the instructions preliminary to this celebrated event. 
 Amidst a negotiation frivolous and elaborate as the process of a 
 Provenyal court of love, one trait of political gallantry deserves 
 notice : — Aware of Henry's predilection for the age of Edward 
 the Third, the King of France submitted to him, whether he 
 should not, in imitation of the Black Prince, have his dinner 
 
 other tilings, whereof after I have spoken w' the king, my lady, or the 
 cotinsell here, I shall wryte to youi^ grace such aunswer as I shall have 
 of them w* diligence. 
 
 *'To myn most especiall and singular good lord, my Lord 
 Legat, Cardinall, and Chauncellorof England." 
 
VISIT OF CHARLES V. 109 
 
 served and carved on horsehacJc.^ Althougli this proposition 
 was negatived^ in every other instance the ordonnances of chi- 
 valry were to be religiously observed ; and it was especially sti- 
 j)ulatedj that, in the ensuing joust, the number of strokes given 
 on either side should be referred to tJie ladies ! Finally, after 
 a longer interval than had been spent by the Edwards and 
 Henrys of former days, in acquiring the fairest provinces of 
 France, the plain of Guisnes was chosen for the interview. f At 
 this critical moment the young Emperor, in his passage to Flan- 
 ders, approached the English coast, when, under pretence of 
 paying his respects to his aunt Catherine, he threw himself on 
 Henry's generosity, and voluntarily came to his court without 
 a single precaution for safety and protection. Charmed with 
 this proof of confidence, Henry was easily persuaded to pledge 
 his friendship to the avowed rival of that prince, whom he was 
 about to visit as an ally and a brother. From Catherine Charles 
 received not only a cordial, but a tender welcome, whilst the 
 ladies of her court lavished on him smiles and blandishments ; 
 but at the sight of Mary,J the beautiful French Queen, to whom 
 he had once been contracted, he was observed to sigh and to 
 betray unwonted sadness ; and to this sentiment was attributed 
 his refusal to dance, and an obvious indifiercnce to all those 
 gayeties which were usually found so attractive. In the sequel, 
 
 * Herbert. 
 
 •j- In Picarcly. 
 
 J " Peradventurc tlie siglit of tlie Lady Mary troubled Lira, -whom 
 
 he had sometime loved." Hall. — Many romantic tales were fabricated 
 
 of his imaginary attachment : the princess herself was pretended to 
 
 have avowed a passion for this prince, whom she had never seen, and 
 
 who was then a boy of thirteen, when she looked at his portrait three 
 
 times every dav- 
 10 
 
110 HENRY'S VISIT TO FRANCIS I. 
 
 it appeared that Wolsey's favour was tlie prize he hoped to win, 
 and Henry's vanity the mistress he sought to captivate ; and 
 with such address was each flattered in his master-passion, that, 
 at parting, he obtained a solemn promise, that a return should he 
 made to his visit in Flanders before the royal party came back 
 to England. "Within a few dav« after Charles had re-embarked, 
 Henry was wafted to the coast of France, acccompanied by 
 his Queen, his sister Mary, her husband, and the most dis- 
 tinguished English nobility. At some little distance from 
 the town of Guisnes, a temporary palace was prepared for 
 Henry's reception, which the combined powers of English and 
 Flemish mechanism had rendered rare and beautiful as the 
 marvellous house constructed for Aladdin by his obedient genii. 
 It is not improbable, that the plan of this curious edifice was 
 suggested by one of those magnificent descriptions so common 
 in tales of chivalry, which formed the popular reading of the day. 
 According to Hall,* it might have been called the Palace of 
 
 * " At the entering into the palace, before the gate on the plain was 
 builded a fountain of embowed work, gilt with fine gold, and bice in- 
 grailed with antihe work ; the old god of wine called Bacchiis, birling 
 the wine, which by the conduits in the earth, ran to all people plente- 
 ously with red, white, and claret wine, over whose head was written in 
 letters of Roman, in gold, '■ fadte bonne cMre qui voiildra.^ On the other 
 hand or side of the gate, was set a pillar, which was of ancient Roman 
 work, borne with four lions of gold. The pillars wrapped in a wreath 
 of gold, curiously wrought, and introiled, and on the summit of the said 
 pillar stood an image of the blind god Cupid, with his bow and arrows 
 of love, ready by his seeming, to strike the young people to love. The 
 foregate of the same palace or place with great and mighty masonry 
 was arched, with a tower on every side of the same part reared by great 
 craft ; and embattled was the gate and tower, and in the fenestres and 
 
 I 
 
THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD. Ill 
 
 Illusion ; but, abstracted from fancy and flattery, it appears to 
 have been formed of moveable planks of timber, and covered with 
 canvass so well painted as to resemble stone. Within, it was 
 hung with arras and tapestry, the most rich and tasteful that 
 the looms of Ghent and Antwerp could supply : but after all 
 these efforts of ingenuity, it was found totally inadequate to 
 the occasion ; since 2500 of the King's suite had no better resource 
 than to lodge in ten^s, of which the inside was hung with white 
 cloth, richly embroidered and surmounted by the union rose, 
 interlaced with the fleur-de-lys. The spot selected for this en- 
 campment, was about half a league beyond the town of Gruisnes, 
 and about the same distance from the town of Ardres, in whose 
 castle lodged Francis and his gallant court. Whilst Henry and 
 his retinue, like crusaders, remained in their splendid pavilions, 
 necessity must have led to a diff"erent distribution of the quad- 
 rupeds in his train, of which the horses alone amounted to the 
 enormous number of 4326. To these, according to previous sti- 
 pulation, an equal number was opposed by the French party : thus 
 the cordial meeting, which was to form an eternal union of friend- 
 ship, resembled the clashing of two hostile armies, and seemed 
 rather calculated to create impressions of distrust and jealousy, 
 than to suggest images of peace and amity, hospitality and con- 
 windows were images resembling men of war, ready to cast great stones. 
 Also the same gate, or tower, was set with compassed images of ancient 
 princes, as Hercules, Alexander, and others. 
 
 " By the same gate all people passed into a large court, fair and beau- 
 tiful ; for in this court appeared much of the outward beauty of the 
 place. Far from the first cleare table were bale windows (i. e. green 
 lattices) on every side mixed with stories, curiously glazed, the posts 
 or moinels of every window were gilt." 
 
112 MEETING OF HENRY AND FRANCIS. 
 
 cord. It was on the tenth of June that the two Kings were first 
 confronted ; and so desirous was each prince to commemorate the 
 interesting moment^ that draftsmen were retained in either camp 
 to delineate the prominent features of the scene^ and authors 
 employed to transmit to posterity its most trifling incidents.* 
 On that auspicious mornings Henry rode forth on horseback 
 towards ArdreS; while Francis in like manner advanced towards 
 Guisnes. A momentary impression of distrust is said to have 
 passed over Henry's i^iind ; but it was quickly dissipated^ and, 
 spurring on his steed, wii'n undaunted confidence, he advanced 
 before his attendants. No sooner had Francis perceived the 
 movement than he also came, and with an equally generous 
 impulse received his royal guest. In an instant both princes 
 encountered each other, when each touched his bonnet ; and each 
 alighting, the two princes eagerly embraced with every demon- 
 stration of fraternal affection ; then walked arm in arm around 
 the encampment, amidst the fixed gaze and rapturous acclama- 
 tions of countless spectators. Their respective attendants, with a 
 simultaneous movement, rushed also to each others' arms; French- 
 men and Englishmen embraced and walked together ; national 
 prejudices seemed suspended ; ancient rivalry yielded to involun- 
 tary sympathy, and the generous emulation of honour, loyalty, 
 and courtesy. Much of this enthusiasm might perhaps be attri- 
 buted to the novelty of the spectacle, and still more to its mag- 
 
 * Hall the clironicler (the recorder of London) attended by Henry's 
 command. Fleuranges, and other men of talents, were in the French 
 camp. From the sketches taken by the English artist, Holbein composed 
 the celebrated picture long in Windsor Castle, but presented by His late 
 Majesty to the Society of Antiquaries. Similar sketches were made by 
 the French artists. 
 
 I 
 
THEIR DRESSES AND APPEARANCE. 113 
 
 nificence. ^' I wel] perceived/' says Hall, ^^ the habiliments 
 royal of the French King : his garment was a chemew of cloth 
 of silver, culponed with cloth of gold, of damask cautelwise, and 
 guarded on the borders with the Burgon band.'^"^ The dress of 
 Henry, who delighted in finery, was equally superb : even on ordi- 
 nary occasions he was accustomed to make an ostentatious display 
 of jewels — in the collar of balas rubies pendent from his neck,"!* 
 the diamonds inserted in his bonnet, and the rings clustering 
 round his fingers. On this day, in addition to the ruby which 
 he usually wore, on which was enamelled the battle of Bosworth 
 Field, he displayed a profusion of emeralds, and other precious 
 stones, which gave him a truly regal appearance. His courtiers 
 vied in splendour with the attendants of Francis : the French 
 soldiers appeared in uniforms of blue and yellow, emblazoned 
 with the badge of Francis, the Salamander, emblematic of the 
 
 ^ "Over tliat," continues the chronicler, " he had a cloak of broached 
 satin, with gold of purple colour, wrapped about his body, traverse 
 beded from the shoulder to the waist, fastened in the loup of the first 
 fould ; this cloak was richly set with pearls and pretious stones. The 
 French king had on his head a coif of damask gold set with diamonds, and 
 his courser that he rode on was covered with a trapper of tissue, brodered 
 with device, cut in fashion mantell-wise ; the skirts were embowed and 
 fret with frized work, and knit with corbelles and buttons tasseled of 
 Turkic ; making raines and headstall answering to the same work." 
 
 Having thus descanted on the monai'ch's dress. Hall devotes but few 
 words to his person. "And verelie of his person the same Francis, a 
 goodlie prince, statelie of countenance, merrie of cheere, browne coloured, 
 great eyes, high nosed, big lipped, fair brested, broad shoulders, small 
 legges, and long feete." 
 
 f This collar, by order of Charles the First, was sold beyond sea by 
 the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Holland. See Archseologia. 
 10 ''^ 
 
-114 AMUSEMENTS . 
 
 motto — ^^ I nourish tlie good^ extinguisli tlie guilty." Henry 
 and ttie English cavaliers wore on their crests the hawthorn, — 
 that cherished, though humble badge, for ever endeared to the 
 house of Lancaster, from the circumstance of Henry the Seventh 
 having placed on his head, in Bosworth Field, the crown of 
 England, which had been discovered in a hawthorn-bush. After 
 the first ceremonies, the two kings withdrew to a tent of cloth 
 of gold : on this spot, after reiterated congratulations, Henry 
 began, pro forma, to read the articles, when, instead of desig- 
 nating himself the King of France, he stopped abruptly after ^'I 
 Henry, King of England," and laughing, exclaimed, ^^No, not 
 the King of France ; I should be an impostor if I claimed that 
 title ', for the King of France is here." The rest of the day was 
 not spent in political deliberation, but in making arrangements 
 for pleasure, and in promoting mirth and revelry; from this 
 moment commenced a jubilee, such as Europe had never wit- 
 nessed; in which jousting, drinking, music, and dancing, inter- 
 mingled in unceasing rotation. The amusements of the day 
 encroached on the slumbers of the night; and from one tent to 
 another resounded mirth, and minstrelsy, and joyous acclama- 
 tion. A constant interchange of visits took place between the 
 two courts, and the plain of Guisnes presented, at the same 
 moment, the novel sight of queens, or ladies, passing in horse- 
 litters, or magnificent tents thrown open for 4%,% accommodation 
 of noble guests. Adjoining the palace werejwo conduits, con- 
 tinually replenished with wine, which was offered without dis- 
 tinction to all comers ; contiguous to these, were two immense 
 ovens, and culinary offices, in which the cooks, like the Cyclops, 
 toiled incessantly, to satisfy the clamorous multitude. All the 
 gradations of society were here exhibited, from the sovereign, 
 
 I 
 
THE TWO QUEENS. 115 
 
 to whose table was borne tlie superb service of plate, to the 
 temporary tabaret or booth, in which the vulgar passenger dearly 
 purchased some trifling refreshment. An immense concourse 
 of foreigners flocked to the spectacle ; many of whom could pro- 
 cure no better accommodation than a booth and a truss of straw. 
 Of the French and English nobility, many carried their estates 
 on their backs, or mortgaged, for many years to come, the amount 
 of their revenues. During the fortnight that Henry remained 
 at Guisnes, prodigality obtained the praise of munificence, and 
 decency was outraged in the name of hospitality : day after day, 
 came vagrants, artisans, and labourers, to drink and carouse, who 
 afterwards lay stretched on the ground in brutal insensibility. 
 Amidst these licentious excesses, high-mass was celebrated with 
 the most imposing pageantry ; the two monarchs sitting in chairs 
 of state, on either side of the altar, where stood Wolsey between 
 them to perform the sacerdotal office. The finest singers in 
 France assisted in the vocal part of this solemnity ; but Wolsey 
 was the prominent personage. After having presented to the 
 two monarchs the Gospel and the pix, which each with reverence 
 pressed to his lips, he advanced to the Queens Claude and Cathe- 
 rine, who sat side by side, in a separate oratory ; but these prin- 
 cesses, who really felt for each other the cordial good-will which 
 their lords aff"ected, instead of kissing the pix, tenderly embraced, 
 and thus ofi'ered, before God and man, a pledge of amity, and 
 love, and concord. In the tournament was concentrated the 
 magnificence of both parties. On either side three hundred 
 cavaliers entered the lists : Francis and his train appeared in 
 puri^le spangled with gold ; whilst Henry and his band wore 
 russet satin, wreathed with eglantine, of which the device is 
 ^^ sweet, and pleamnt, and f/rrm, if I'indJy tonehed ; hut if 
 
116 THE BELLES OF FRANCE. 
 
 rudely handled it may prich and wound." To interj^ret these 
 deviceS; some of which were intricate as the riddle of (Edipus,* 
 mtfst have formed a constant source of amusement to the spec- 
 tators ; nor was the royal balcony, which the queens and prin- 
 cesses and their ladies occupied, a less prominent object of atten- 
 tion. It is reluctantly admitted by our national chronicler, that 
 the belles of France surpassed the English fair, in the richness 
 and elegance of their habiliments. A spleneticj" writer has, 
 indeed, insinuated that the Grallic costume was injurious to female 
 modesty ; but there appears to have been no other foundation for 
 this censure, than that the French ladies judiciously appropria- 
 ted a lighter dress to dancing, divested of those cumbrous orna- 
 ments, which must have equally checked the elasticity or de- 
 stroyed the grace of their movements. 
 
 The intercourse between Claude and Catherine appears not to 
 have been merely courteous, but affectionate. The royal party, 
 embellished by the beautiful Queen Mary, and enlivened by the 
 witty Duchess of Alangon, included also her mother, the inge- 
 nious, though profligate Louisa, Duchess of Angouleme. In the 
 French, as at the English court, the ladies dined at a separate 
 table ; but it was observed by Fleuranges, J that having first 
 
 * Of these devices, one of tlie most conspicuous was, <' a man's heart 
 burning in the hand of a lady, who held," says Hall, " a garden-pot 
 stilling on the heart." The robes and trappings appear to have been 
 emblazoned with anagrams, scarcely less perplexing than hieroglyphics. 
 Henry displayed a series of ciphers signifying, <' God, my friend, my 
 realm." The French King wore the symbol of a book, on which were 
 incribed the characters A, M, E ; which being combined with the Latin 
 word liber, for book, were made to signify, '^ LIBERA ME," — deliver me. 
 
 f Polydore Virgil. 
 
 % See IMontfaiicon's Monumens de la Monarchie Fran^oise. 
 
THE BALLADS. 117 
 
 taken a private repast at home, they merely went to the banquet 
 as to a showy spectacle. Music and dancing relieved their atten- 
 tion, and the vociferations of the heralds for largess, were echoed 
 by the spontaneous plaudits of the people. To Claude and Ca- 
 therine, who aspired not to the character of politicians, perhaps 
 not all these acclamations imparted such heartfelt pleasure, as 
 two simple ballads,* composed in honour of the projected al- 
 
 * Par fille et fils d'illristre geniture, 
 Deux nonpareils chefs, d'ordre de nature, 
 On voit reiguer au monde bons amis, 
 Ceque I'ung vent par I'autre est admis, 
 Soit en parler, ou en pleine escriture — 
 Par fille et fils. 
 
 Le createur de toute creature, 
 Pour demontrer ceque de sa facture,' 
 Divin vouloir, a sur terre transmis 
 Par fille et fils. 
 
 Amour en coeur, en a fait I'ouYerture — 
 Bein-lieureux sont de voir telle adventure, 
 Francois, Anglois, jadis grands ennemis. 
 Car a, dangler, ne seront plus submis, 
 Ains auront paix ferme en leur cloture. 
 Par fille et fils. 
 
 This and the following ballad are extracted from Montfaucon's Monu- 
 mcns de la Monarchic Fran9oise. 
 
 Le Parlement de volontiS divine, 
 
 Oti presidoit Raison, qui tout domine, 
 
 Prins au conseil deliberation, 
 
 Put arret(i sans contradiction, 
 Qu'entre deux Rois, paix prendroit origine, 
 
 • Obsolete.— The French ortliogrnphy is preserved. 
 
118 FRANCIS VISITS HENRY. 
 
 liance between their cliildren ; in listening to wliich, they could 
 not but indulge the anticipation of maternal fondness. Amidst 
 all this pomp, and revelry, and luxury, there existed between 
 the French and English, a mutual caution and distrust, truly 
 characteristic of a barbarous age. Each monarch was encircled 
 with guards, and, according to stipulation, accompanied by an 
 equal number of attendants. 
 
 To the generous nature of Francis, such restraint was pecu- 
 liarly revolting ; and he one morning infringed it, by galloping 
 to the palace of G-uisnes before Henry was risen ; when, pro- 
 Humility demanda sa saisine, 
 Et supplia que Raison sa voisine, 
 Mist* cet arret en execution 
 Au Parlement. 
 
 Distort, en Bi'yt et Guerre s'eu mutine, 
 Finance dit, mit en mine, 
 Larreein fait sa deploration, 
 Sans recepvob-\ leua' opposition 
 Dessus le champs le proces on termine, 
 Au Parlement, 
 
 Adventuriers feront maigre cuisine 
 Poules et coqs n'auront phis en pluvine, 
 De leur exces on a fait mention 
 Au Parlement. 
 
 Religueux qui viveut sans doctrine, 
 
 Tremblent de peur comme au vent la courtine. 
 
 Car il est dit, que reformation, 
 
 Viendra de brief, et pour conclusion. 
 
 Miche au convert pour leur vivre St. Assigne. 
 Au Parlement. 
 
 * Mit. I Recevoir. 
 
ANNE BOLEYN AT THE MASQUE. 119 
 
 ceeding to his chamber^ he entered with a smile, exclaiming, 
 ^^ Lo ! I come to be your prisoner/^ Flattered by this trait of 
 confidence, Henry took from his neck a su^oerb collar, which he 
 besought him to wear for the sake of his brother. Francis 
 readily accepted the pledge, but took occasion to bind on Henry's 
 arm a bracelet still more precious. At length, when Henry 
 prepared to leave his bed, Francis sportively insisted on being 
 his valet that morning, and actually officiated as such with 
 the adroitness of a page. 
 
 It is natural to inquire what part Anne Boleyn took in this 
 superb spectacle. History mentions not her name; but it cannot 
 be doubted, that she was included in the number of Claude's 
 female attendants : many of her nearest relatives were present; 
 in particular, her father's younger brother and his wife. Sir Ed- 
 ward and Lady Boleyn ;* her maternal uncle, the Lord Edmund 
 Howard ; her father ; and, admitted to the rank of a baroness, 
 her respected mother.f At this period, however, Anne was too 
 young to have attracted much notice, although she probably 
 danced before Henry, in the masque performed in compliment 
 to his visit to Queen Claude, and dancing was an accomplish- 
 ment in which she is allowed to have excelled the greater part 
 of her contemporaries. It may also be remarked of Henry, that, 
 during his continental excursion, he appears, by his decorous 
 conduct, to have justified the eulogium which Erasmus had lately 
 bestowed on his conjugal and domestic virtues. '^ What house 
 
 ^ Sir Edward Boleyn married the heiress of Sir John Tempest. See 
 the pedigree of Boleyn, in the Appendix. 
 
 I In the list preserved in the Lambeth library, published in Du 
 Carrol's Anglo-Norman Antiquities, she is called, the Lady Bologn. 
 See also the list published in Fiddc's Life of Wolsey. 
 
120 END OF THE MEETING AT GUISNES. 
 
 is there^ of any of your subjects; that can give an example of 
 state in wedlock^ so chaste and harmonious ? Where can you 
 find a wife more suitable to the best of husbands ?"* At this 
 period similar impressions appear to have been produced on the 
 mind of the Emperor Charles, who repeatedly felicitated his 
 aunt on being united to the most magnificent and generous prince 
 in Europe. 
 
 On the departure of Henry's court, the marvellous palace 
 vanished, like the more elegant fabric of a modern Aufocrat,-\- 
 leaving no vestige of its former grandeur but in the recollections 
 of the spectators, to whom the meeting of Guisnes formed an 
 eventful epoch of existence. " I account him a fortunate man,^' 
 says Bishop G-odwin, ^^who had seen two such kings and one 
 emperor in so short a time.^^J 
 
 * See Grove's Life of Wolsey. 
 
 I The ice-palace of the Empress of Russia. 
 
 J The subsequent visit, which Henry and his suite made to Grave- 
 lines, excited disgust in the French court. Charles returned with Henry 
 to Calais, where something like a repetition of the spectacle of Guisnes 
 was attempted without the same success. " An amphitheatre was con- 
 structed, in the centre of which was a pillar, formed of eight masts tied 
 together : this pillar supported the weight not only of the roof of the 
 whole fabric (whither, as into a lower heaven, the moon and stars had 
 descended), hut organs also, and places for the receipt of all sorts of 
 music in abundance. These places were adorned with tapestry, statues, 
 and curious pictures. All was prepared for the entertainment of the 
 royal guests, and the banquet ready to be served in, when the same 
 mischance that befell the French canopy, made our English heaven and 
 earth meet together." "God," says Godwin, ''as displeased with the 
 mad prodigality of these two kings, sent a tempest, the violence where- 
 of scattered this counterfeit heaven ; blew out a thousand wax tapers, 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RETURN OF ANNE BOLEYN TO ENGLAND. — ESTABLISHMENT 
 AT COURT. — ATTACHMENT TO PERCY. — SEPARATION OP 
 THE LOVERS. 
 
 Wolsey — Duke of Buckingham — His Trial — War -with France — Anne's 
 Return to England — Anne in the Queen's service — Character of 
 Catherine — Henry's Gallantry — He meets Anne — A Masked Ball — 
 Henry's visit to Wolsey — Anne's Beauty — Her Manners — Accomplish- 
 ments — Moral Qualities — Luxury of the Court — Maids of Honour — 
 Earl of Northumberland— Old Castles— Servants' Amusements— Percy 
 •wooes Anne — The Lovers separated — Percy and Wolsey — Northum- 
 berland's Lecture — Anne's Resentment. 
 
 It is well known that Wolsey, in common with many con- 
 temporary statesmen, was addicted to the study of astrology, and 
 sometimes amused his sovereign with flattering predictions, 
 founded on the calculation of his nativity. Had the cardinal 
 really possessed the faculty of prescience, he might have dis- 
 covered that the fortunes of Anne Boleyn's house were mysteri- 
 ously connected with his evil destiny, and that her ascending 
 star was to be portentous of his ruin. Without referring to the 
 old prophecy transmitted by Cavendish, it is worthy of remark, 
 that, by one of those casualties, which sometimes occur to baffle 
 human penetration, Wolsey was the primary author of Anne 
 Boleyn's greatness, — the creator, not the arbiter, of her splendid 
 
 defaced the glorious thrones prepared for these princes ; frustrated the 
 expectation of the people, and forced the king to the necessity of an- 
 other place." — Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. 
 
 11 (121) 
 
122 , DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 
 
 destiny. With him had originated that marriage between Louis 
 and the Princess Marj; to which she owed her first elevation. 
 By his influence was to be renewed the hostility with France, and 
 by his fiat she was recalled to her native country. 
 
 In the career of statesmen, one passion so frequently assumes 
 the semblance of another, that policy may easily be mistaken for 
 malice, and ambition perform the ministry of vengeance. In 
 deserting the cause of Francis, Wolsey could have been actuated 
 by no personal feelings of enmity or prejudice; his affections 
 were absorbed in one pursuit ; and even his prejudices submitted 
 to the great object of all his efforts, intrigues, and combinations 
 — the attainment of the papacy. A ludicrous parody was offered 
 to the presumption of the minister, in the vanity of his sovereign, 
 who, with the aid (as is supposed) of More and Wolsey, had 
 attacked Luther, in a catholic tract, for which he was rewarded 
 by Pope Leo, with a bull, and a compliment, such as might have 
 shocked the modesty of any but a royal author. But so elated 
 was Henry with success, that he even tolerated the raillery of his 
 jester Patch, in the well known quibble of — ^^Pr'ythee, Henry, 
 leave the faith to defend itself, and let you and I defend our 
 own kingdom."* 
 
 With this farce was contrasted the tragedy of Edward Stafford, 
 Duke of Buckingham. This nobleman, who was not only the 
 first peer, but hereditary constable of England, maintained his 
 priority by a suitable display of magnificence and liberality. In 
 
 * It may be observed, tkat Henry, in Ws Defence of the Seven Sacra- 
 ments, lays particular stress on that of marriage, as the institution of 
 Para'dise, quoting a passage, ''what therefore God hath joined together, 
 let not man put asunder." The King's book was presented to the Pope, 
 in full consistory, by Dr. John Clerk, Dean of Windsor. 
 
HIS TRIAL. 1-23 
 
 addition to these brilliant advantages, it was his misfortune to 
 possess another, and unhappily an invidious claim to distinction 
 in his remote affinity to the Plantagencts. In tracing his pre- 
 tensions to royal blood, he had to revert to the son of Edward 
 the Third, from whose daughter he was, in the female line, de- 
 scended. But ambition speculates freely within the limits of 
 possibility ; superstition even goes beyond them : and over the 
 Duke's mind these two powerful springs of human action had 
 obtained an alarming ascendant. Cajoled by the artifices of a 
 monk, who predicted that the King should die childless, he ven- 
 tured, in some unguarded moments, to expatiate on his latent 
 pretensions to the succession ; and, as spies and delators formed 
 a part of every nobleman's household, his words were reported 
 to Henry, and, by the agency of suborned domestics, articles of 
 treason were actually exhibited against him. When brought to 
 trial, it might be some aggravation of his sufi"erings, that he 
 recognised among his judges, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earls of 
 Northumberland and Oxford, with whom he had been so lately 
 associated on the plain of Guisnes ; and that in the Duke of 
 Norfolk, who presided at this tribunal, he beheld the friend of 
 his youth, who, by the intermarriage of their children, was 
 become his acknowledged brother. 
 
 On the death of his royal bride, the Lady Anne Plantagenet, 
 the Lord Thomas Howard had fixed his affections on the second 
 daughter of Buckingham, who, though already contracted, and 
 attached to the young Earl of Westmoreland, was compelled, by 
 her father's authority, to espouse a man, ill-assorted in age, and 
 from whose person and manners she recoiled with aversion. 
 Little did the Duke suspect, that the child, whose happiness was 
 thus sacrificed to schemes of greatness, would have to struggle. 
 
124 BUCKINGHAM'S TRIAL. 
 
 in the wane of life^ with desertion and indigence, with sickness 
 and sorrow, with all the wrongs and sufferings that cruelty and 
 injustice can inflict on helpless woman.* 
 
 The arraignment of Buckingham would alone fix an indelible 
 stain on the judicial administration of this reign, since, in 
 direct violation of the statutes of Edward the Third (whom 
 Henry professed to make the model of his ambitious imitation), 
 the noble culprit was tried and convicted, on the evidence of a 
 perfidious monk, employed to seduce his loyalty, and the venal 
 testimony of a domestic, who for misconduct had been discharged 
 from his service, and from revenge conspired against his former 
 benefactor. No overt act was proved, to substantiate the charge 
 of treason ; but any ambitious dream was sufficient to alarm 
 Henry's jealousy; nor did the peers venture to incur the charge 
 of disloyalty by thwarting the wishes of a despotic sovereign. 
 The Duke of Norfolk, who presided at the tribunal, shed tears, 
 in pronouncing the fatal sentence. ^^My lord of Norfolk,'^ 
 replied the prisoner, ^^ you have said, that, as a traitor, I should 
 be bound ', but traitor I am none ; I was never any. But, my 
 Lords, I nothing malign for that you have done to me; but the 
 eternal God forgive you my death, as I do. I shall never sue 
 to the King for life ; howbeit he is a gracious prince, and more 
 grace may come from him than I deserve. I desire you, my 
 Lords, to pray for me." — On being conducted to his barge, he 
 declined sitting on the cushions prepared for him, exclaiming, 
 
 * This lady was supplanted in her husband's affections by a female 
 attendant, for whose sake she was compelled to leave her house, and 
 to live in comparative proverty, whilst her rival presided at the Duke's 
 table, and publicly appeared with his children at court. 
 
ANNE RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 125 
 
 '^ When I went to Westminster, I was Buko of Buckingham ; 
 now am I Edward Bohunc, the worst caitiff of the world." 
 
 The Duke of Norfolk survived his unfortunate friend but two 
 years. In that interval he witnessed the progressive advance- 
 ment of his son-in-law Sir Thomas Boleyn, who was promoted 
 to be Comptroller of the King's Household; but he lived not to 
 draw any presage of his grandchild's greatness ; and if he ever 
 saw her after the memorable moment of Queen Mary's marriage, 
 it was probably in the train of Queen Claude, at the interview 
 at Guisnes. Hostility to France having been resolved in the 
 English cabinet, a plausible pretext for war could not long be 
 wanting ; and after the ordinary process of outrage on the liberty 
 and property of aliens residing, on the faith of former treaties, 
 in either kingdom, the Duke of Suffolk invaded France, and va- 
 rious depredations were reciprocally committed by the belligerent 
 parties. A formal requisition was also made to Francis for th« 
 restoration of Anne Boleyn, who in consequence returned to 
 England ; under whose protection is not specified by any histo- 
 rian. It is however acknowledged, that the King and Queen of 
 France submitted to her departure with reluctance '* to the latter, 
 in particular, she was so much endeared, that Anne appears not 
 to have formally quitted her service, but merely to have relin- 
 
 * Mezerai pretends that Francis was deeply chagrined by the pri- 
 vation of her society, having made her the depositary of his secrets ; 
 but this assertion is too ridiculous to require refutation; in 1522, 
 Anne could not have been more than sixteen. On the other hand, 
 Camden, and after him Burnet and Rapin, affirm that, on the death of 
 Claude, she entered the service of the Duchess of Alan9on ; but it is 
 certain, if she was an attendant on tliat princess, it must have been 
 prior to Claude's death, which happened in 1524. 
 11* 
 
126 ANNE IN THE QUEEN'S SERVICE. 
 
 quislied her place till a more favourable moment should permit 
 her to resume it. Sir Thomas Boleyn probably conjectured that 
 the war with France would be of no long duration ; and with 
 his usual discretion reserved for his daughter an asylum in one 
 court, without hazarding displeasure in another. 
 
 Scarcely had Wolsey coalesced with the Emperor Charles, 
 than he saw sufl&cient cause to distrust the sincerity of his new 
 patron : on the death of Leo, regardless of former promises, he 
 procured the nomination of his tutor, Adrian, to the papal chair. 
 Adrian, indeed, was old and infirm, and Wolsey might reasonably 
 indulge the hope of becoming his successor. 
 
 Sir Thomas Boleyn was less sa.nguine in his expectations ; and 
 as he foresaw the alienation of Wolsey from Charles, he could 
 with confidence predict his coalition with his rival potentate : 
 but however he might have speculated on this probability, the 
 death of Claude precluding the re-establishment of Anne in 
 France, left him no alternative but to attach her to the service 
 of Catherine. In effecting this object, he probably had recourse 
 to the aid of Wolsey, whose influence was rather increased than 
 diminished, and who, whilst he assumed in the state the supre- 
 macy conferred by talent, controlled the Queen through the 
 medium of her husband's authority, and governed the King by 
 flattering his passions, and administering to his pleasures. 
 
 Although Henry continued to live with Catherine in seeming 
 concord, it was well known to his confidential intimates, that he 
 had become indifierent to her person and weary of her society. 
 At the period of their marriage, they had sympathized in many 
 of their tastes and pursuits, nor was the Queen less acceptable 
 to her youthful consort for those retired and sedentary habits, 
 derived from the Spanish court, which forbade her to dance, to 
 hunt, or sing, like the less fastidious princesses of England. In 
 
 I 
 
CHARACTER OF CATHERINE. 127 
 
 her happier days, she was endeared to him by a certaiD feminine 
 reserve, tempered with mildness, that pervaded her general de- 
 portment. Eagerly as Henry sought popular applause for him- 
 self, he was well pleased that the partner of his throne should 
 remain the unambitious spectator of his exhibitions and his 
 triumphs; whilst, on his part, he witnessed with complacency 
 her progress in tent-stitclv^ and tapestrij, and approved the 
 reformation which, both by precept and example, she sought to 
 introduce in female manners. Unhappily for Catherine, as her 
 beauty declined, her gravity increased ; and though celebrated 
 for her learning, she appears not to have possessed those com- 
 panionable talents which enliven domestic retirement. It is the 
 misfortune of the female sex, that superior moral qualities, 
 though necessary to insure esteem, are not sufficient to preserve 
 affection; and although Catherine's exemplary virtues were such 
 as disarmed her husband's censure, he often repined at her 
 "tediousness and peevishness,'^'}" when^ in reality, he merely 
 missed in her the faculty of participating in his favourite enjoy- 
 ments. If, at stated seasons, she still presided at the banquet, 
 her heart was no longer in unison with the scene ; submission 
 was a poor substitute for sympathy; obedience atoned not 
 for the absence of animation; and Henry gladly escaped 
 from Catherine's mild, but melancholy aspect, to alluring 
 smiles, and exhilarating companions. Hitherto, with the ex- 
 ception of Lady Tallbois, he had been devoted to no acknow- 
 ledged mistress ; even for her his attachment had been kept alive 
 by the birth of a son, whom, in his solicitude for a male heir, 
 he once thought of including in the succession to the crown. 
 
 * Catherine lias been celebrated in Latin and English verse, for her 
 px'oficiency in this accomplishment. 
 f Herbert, Fiddes. 
 
128 HENRY MEETS ANNE. 
 
 Altliougli liis propensity to gallantry was not unsuspected^ a 
 sense of decency and propriety had hitherto induced him to 
 conceal his irregular conduct from the world ; and if his wife 
 had sometimes the pain of hearing of his aberrations from mo- 
 rality^ she was spared the anguish of watching his seductions; 
 and detecting his infidelities. 
 
 It was remarked; that with a rigid observance of punctilio; 
 Henry continued to dine and sup in the Queen's chamber; but 
 no sooner was the meal despatched; thaU; attended by Sir Edward 
 NevillC; Sir Francis BriaU; and two or three familiar associates; 
 he frequently entered his bargC; masked and disguised ; and like 
 the Caliph Haroun al Raschid; went in pursuit of pleasant ad- 
 ventures. 
 
 On such occasions; his most agreeable haunt was Yorke HousC;* 
 where Wolsey; according to preconcerted arrangement; had pre- 
 pared a banquet for his reception. Of these rich voluptuous 
 entertainments; Cavendish has transmitted a description; which, 
 in his play of Henry the Eighth; is immortalized by Shakspeare. 
 To the same high authority; we may refer the popular tradition; 
 that Henry the Eighth first met Anne Boleyn at a masked ball; 
 in the cardinal's palace. f 
 
 ^^ On one of these occasions;" as Cavendish relates; " the King 
 
 * On the site of Whitehall. 
 
 f It should however be observed, that the minute description of 
 Cavendish nearly agrees with the brief sketch which Plolinshed has 
 introduced, of the entertainment given 1518, by Cardinal Wolsey to the 
 French ambassadors ; at which Henry danced with his sister, the Queen, 
 Duchess of Suffolk, and where his mistress, Elizabeth Blount, was pre- 
 sent: the principal difference between them is, that Cavendish makes 
 Henry play at the game of mumchaunce. 
 
A MASKED BALL. 129 
 
 and his companions came, disguised as shepherds^ in garments 
 made of fine cloth of gold, and fine crimson satin (paned), and 
 cappes of the same, with visors of good proportion of visnamy, 
 their hairs and beards of fine silver wire, or black silk : before 
 this gallant company, appeared sixteen torch-bearers, and three 
 drummers ; when they reached the Watergate, a loud salute an- 
 nounced the arrival of honorable guests, and the tables were set 
 in the chamber of presence, all covered, and my Lord Cardinal 
 sitting under the cloth of estate there, having all his service alone ; 
 and there was there set, a lady and a nobleman, and a gentleman 
 and a gentlewoman, throughout all the tables in the chamber, on 
 the one side, which were made adjoining, as it were but one table, 
 all which order and devise was done by the- Lord Sands, then. 
 Lord Chamberlain, and Sir Henry Guildford, Comptroller of the 
 King's House : then, immediately after this great shot of the 
 guns, the Cardinal desired the Lord Chamberlain, and the Comp- 
 troller, to look what it should mean, as though he knew nothing 
 of the matter ; they looking out of the windows into the Thames, 
 returned again, and shewed him, that it seemed they were 
 noblemen, and strangers arrived at his bridge, coming as am- 
 bassadors, from some foreign prince : with that, quoth the 
 Cardinal, I desire you, because you can speak French, to take 
 the pains to go into the hall, there to receive them according to 
 their estates, and to conduct them into this chamber, where 
 they shall see us, and all these noble personages, being merry at 
 our banquet, desiring them to sit down with us, and to take 
 part of our feast. Then went they down into the hall, whereas 
 they received them with twenty new torches, and conveyed them 
 up into the chamber, with such a number of flutes and drums 
 as I have seldom seen together at one place and time. At 
 
130 A MASKED BALL. 
 
 tlieir arrival into the chamber, two-and-two together, they went 
 directly before the Cardinal, where he sate, and saluted him 
 very reverently ; to whom the Lord Chamberlain, for them, said, 
 ^ Sir, forasmuch as they be strangers, and cannot speak English, 
 they have desired me to declare unto you, that they having un- 
 derstanding of this your triumphant banquet, where was assem- 
 bled such a number of excellent fair dames, could do no less, and 
 under the supportation of your Grace, but to repair hither, to view 
 as well their incomparable beauty, as for to accompany them 
 at mumchaunce, and then after to dance with them, and to have 
 of their acquaintance. And, Sir, furthermore, they require 
 of your grace licence to accomplish the same cause of their 
 coming/ To whom the Cardinal said, he was very well con- 
 tent they should so do. Then went the maskers, and first 
 saluted all the dames, and then returned to the most worthi- 
 est, and then opened their great cup of gold, filled with 
 crowns, and other pieces of gold, to whom they set certain of 
 the pieces of gold to cast at, thus perusing all the ladies and 
 gentlewomen : to some they lost, and of some they won, and 
 perusing after this manner all the ladies, they returned to the 
 Cardinal with great reverence, pouring down all the gold left in 
 their cup, which was above two hundred crowns. ' Oh !' quoth 
 the Cardinal, and so cast the dice and won them, whereof was 
 made great noise and joy. Then, quoth the Cardinal to my 
 Lord Chamberlain, ' I pray you that you will shew them, that 
 meseemeth there should be a nobleman amongst them who is 
 more meet to occupy this seat and place than am I, to whom I 
 would most gladly surrender the same, if I knew him.'' Then 
 spoke my Lord Chamberlain to them in French, declaring my 
 Lord Cardinal's words, and they, redounding him again in the 
 
A MASKED BALL. 131 
 
 car, the Lord Chamberlain said to my Lord Cardinal, ^ Sir, they 
 confess that among them there is such a noble personage, whom, 
 if your Grace will point out from the rest, he is content to dis- 
 close himself, and to take and accept your place most worthily.' 
 With that, the Cardinal taking a good advisement among them, 
 at the last, quoth he, ^Meseemeth the gentleman with the black 
 beard should be even he;' and, with that, he rose out of his 
 chair, and offered the same to the gentleman in the black beard, 
 with his cap in his hand. The person to whom he offered then 
 his chair was Sir Edward Neville, a comely knight, of a goodly 
 personage, that much more resembled the King's person in that 
 mask than any other : the King hearing, and perceiving the 
 Cardinal was deceived, could not forbear laughing, but pulled 
 down his vizor, and Master Neville's also, and dashed out such 
 a pleasant countenance and cheer, that all the noblest estates 
 there assembled, perceiving the King to be there amongst them, 
 rejoiced very much. The Cardinal eftsoons desired his high- 
 ness to take the place of estate, whom the King answered, that 
 he would go first and shift his apparel, and so departed, and 
 went straight into my Lord Cardinal's bed-chamber, where was 
 a great fire prepared for him ; and new apparelled him with rich 
 and princely garments. And in the time of the King's absence, 
 the dishes of the banquet were cleane taken up, and the table 
 spread again, with new and clean perfumed cloaths, every man 
 sitting still until the King's majesty, with all his maskers, came 
 in among them again, every man new apparelled. Then the 
 King took his seat under the cloth of estate, commanding every 
 person to sit still as they did before. In came a new banquette 
 before the King's majesty, and to all the rest throughout the 
 tables, wherein, I suppose, were served two hundred dishes of 
 
132 ANNE'S BEAUTY. 
 
 wonderous costly devices and subtilties. Thus passed they forth 
 the night in banquetting, dancing, and other triumphant devices, 
 to the great comfort of the King, and pleasant regard of the 
 nobility there assembled/^* 
 
 "Whether it were at York House, or at G-reenwich, that Henry 
 and Anne Boleyn first met, it appears to have been under Wol- 
 sey's suspices that she arrested his attention. In the Queen's 
 presence-chamber she might have been occasionally eclipsed by 
 fairer faces, to which superficial observers would award the prize 
 of beauty. That Anne was a brunette is well known, by de- 
 scription and representation from the artist and the poet ;"]* and it 
 
 ■^ Cavendisli's Life of Wolsey. 
 
 ■j- "There was at this time presented to the eye of the court the rare 
 and admyrable bewtie of the fresh and yonge Lady Anne Bolein, to be 
 attendichte upon the Queene. In this noble imp the graces of nature, 
 graced by gracious ediicacion, seemed even at the first to have promised 
 blis unto hereafter times ; she was taken at that time to have a bewtie 
 not so whitly cleere and fresh, above al we may esteeme, which appeared 
 much more excellent by her favour passinge sweete and chearful, and 
 thes both also increased by her noble presence of shape and /aseow, re- 
 presenting both mildness and majesty, more than can be exprest. Ther 
 was found indeede upon the side of her naile upon one of her fingers 
 some little showe of a naile, which yet was so small, by the report of 
 tliose that have seen her, as the workmaister seemed to leave it an oc- 
 casion of greater grace to her hand, which, with the tip of one of her 
 other fingers, might be and was usually by her hidden, without any 
 least blemish to it. Likewise ther wer said to be upon certin parts of 
 her boddy small moles, incident to the clearest complections ; and 
 certainly both thes were none other than miglit more stain their writ- 
 ings, with note of malice, than have catch at such light moles in so 
 bright beams of bewtie, than in any part shaddow it, as may right wel 
 appeare by many arguments, but chiefly by ih.Q choice and exquisite 
 
HER ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 133 
 
 is notorious, that on one of her fingers was a supplemental 
 nail j a defect which, if we may credit her encomiasts, she had 
 the address to conceal, or the skill to improve into a perfection. 
 The fascination of Anne appears not to have resided even in her 
 features, though of these the loveliness is almost universally 
 acknowledged ; but in her eloquent eyes, the symmetry of her 
 form, the mingled airiness and dignity of her carriage ; above 
 all, in those indefinable charms of grace and expression which 
 lend interest to every glance, and intelligence to each movement. 
 Such, at least, is the impression that Wiatt gives in the follow- 
 ing lines, avowedly written to convey an idea of her charming 
 countenance : — 
 
 A face that should content me wond'rous -well 
 
 Should not be fair, — but lovely to behold ; 
 With gladsome cheer all grief for to expel, 
 
 With sober looks ; so would I that it should 
 Speak without words, such words as none can tell. 
 
 Her tresse also should be of crisped gold, 
 With wit, and then might chance I might be tied, 
 
 And knit again the knot that should not slide.* 
 
 Trained in the court of France, Anne had learned to improve 
 her person by all those embellishments of dress, which, under 
 the direction of good taste, render art so powerful an auxiliary 
 
 judgments, of many brave spirits that weer esteemed to honor the 
 honorable parts in her, even honored of envie itself." 
 
 Wiatt^s Life of Queen Anne Bolen. 
 
 * See Nott's Life of Wiatt. The "tresse of crisped gold" is a poetic 
 
 license. The colour of Anne Boleyn's hair appears to have been a 
 
 dark brown, as may be seen by a portrait taken of her by Holbein, 
 
 still preserved in Warwick Castle. 
 
 12 
 
134 HER MORAL QUALITIES. 
 
 to nature. Discarding, as far as etiquette permitted, the stiff 
 costumes of English dames, she ventured to introduce such novel- 
 ties of fashion as best became her own form; and the admiration 
 she excited soon induced other ladies to imitate her example. 
 But it was not only at the toilette that her taste was confessedly- 
 pre-eminent : unrivalled in every captivating talent, she danced 
 like a nymph, and not only touched the lute and virginal with 
 a masterly hand, but accompanied them with her voice in a strain 
 of delicious melody. To these brilliant accomplishments shej 
 added an exquisite winningness and propriety of manners, not 
 less rare, and even more seducing than beauty ; insomuch, as 
 Lord Herbert says,* that ^^ when she composed her hands to 
 play and her voice to sing, it was joined with that sweetness of 
 countenance that three harmonies concurred : likewise when she 
 danced, her rare proportions carried themselves into all the graces 
 that belong either to rest or motion ; briefly, it seems, the most 
 attractive perfections were eminent in her.'' 
 
 Of her moral qualities it might be less easy to form a judg- 
 ment. She appears to have imbibed the pride of her mother's 
 character, and to have inherited her father's ambition. The 
 frankness of her nature had so far prevailed over an artificial 
 education, and the lessons of prudence inculcated by statesmen 
 
 * Lord Herbert appears to have derived his account of Anne Boleyn 
 from Sir John Russell, the first Earl of Bedford, — on whose authority 
 he informs us, that Jane Seymour was the more majestic, hut Anne 
 Boleyn the more lovely ; that love threatened in the eyes of Jane, but 
 laughed in those of Anne ; that the former, the richer she was dressed, 
 the fairer she appeared, but that the other never looked so fair as 
 when she was plainly dressed. The same connoisseur adds, "though 
 Queen Catherine, in her younger days, was, for beauty and dignity, 
 not often to be paralleled." 
 
LUXURY OF THE ENGLISH COURT. 135 
 
 and diplomatists, that, in defiance of caution and expcriencej she 
 spoke and acted from the impulse of feeling, with an intrepidity 
 sometimes honoured as sincerity, more often stigmatized as im- 
 prudence. To this indiscretion she added a spirit of volatile 
 coquetry, which, though palliated by the manners of the age, 
 often exposed her conduct to suspicion and misrepresentation. 
 
 The interior of Queen Catherine's court could have offered 
 little for her amusement. Much praise has been bestowed on 
 that princess for those meritorious labours in tent-stitch and 
 tapestry, with which she sought to supply the place of hunting, 
 archery, and other unfeminine modes of pastime. It does not, 
 however, appear, that these labours were beguiled with a book 
 or song ; and Anne, who possessed, in the vivacity and facility 
 of her conversation, another source of attraction, little appre- 
 ciated by the indefatigable sempstresses that engrossed the 
 Queen's favour, was naturally disposed to become impatient of 
 seclusion in such uncongenial society. 
 
 In the economy of the royal household existed many pecu- 
 liarities, which, to those who possessed either cultivated taste or 
 refined feeling, must have been offensively repulsive.* It might 
 seem paradoxical to assert, that there is a partial excess of luxury 
 incident to a rude state of society, of which the more general 
 diffusion which characterizes an advanced state of civilization, 
 affords the best corrective. In the gorgeous finery of King 
 Henry's court, we often trace a resemblance to the barbaric 
 splendour and magnificence exhibited by the despots of Asia and 
 
 •^ Of the total absence of order and decorum from tliis scene of pro- 
 fligate dissipation, some idea may be formed from the proclamation 
 issued against " strong and mighty beggars, rascals, vagabonds, and 
 masterless folk, who hang about the court." 
 
136 BARBARIC GRANDEUR. 
 
 Africa ; and poorly as tlaat age was furnished with those more 
 elegant conveniences and accommodations^ that essentially con- 
 tribute to the comfort and refinement of modern life, it will be 
 found, that, wherever wealth abounded, there prevailed a super- 
 fluity of all that was rare and precious, — an excess of pomp and 
 prodigality, to which modern Europe scarcely offers any parallel. 
 Under the Tudors, the frank hospitality of the rude Saxon 
 monarchs was still perpetuated on public festivals, at Christmas 
 and Easter, on twelfth day and Michaelmas, and some other 
 extraordinary occasions, when the King lived in hall, and freely 
 treated all who asked for entertainment. In general, the palace, 
 like the pageant so often admitted within its walls, presented a 
 motley combination of bloated luxury and squalid wretchedness, 
 fantastic elegance and sordid penury. The royal apartments 
 were strewn with rushes ; the stairs and floors of the other rooms 
 were often inlaid with filth ; and whilst fires* blazed in the great 
 chambers, hung with arras, the inferior officers were shivering 
 with cold, and some of their attendants literally beggars. 
 
 Among other statutes published in the 17th year of this reign, 
 at Eltham, was one, by which it was enacted, that none but 
 decent persons should be admitted into court service ; that in 
 future no rascalf should be employed in any domestic capacity ; 
 and that the scullions of the kitchen should not be permitted to 
 go naked. By one article, it was prohibited to any| of the 
 
 * Coals were only allowed for the King, Queen, and Lady Mary's 
 chambers. 
 
 f A rascal implied an illiterate vagrant ; one who could not even re- 
 peat his Creed. 
 
 t It was expressly stipulated, that the officers of the squillery shall 
 see silver and pewter vessels kept safe (pewter vessels heing then 
 
THE KING'S HOUSEHOLD. 137 
 
 King's household to follow the King when he should go on his 
 pastime^ unless invited. By another article, obviously dictated 
 by Henry's personal feelings, it is enacted, that in future none 
 be admitted but persons of good demeanour, fashion, gesture, 
 countenance, and stature, so as the King's house may be fur- 
 nished with such as are tried, elect, and picked for the King's 
 honour. To the privilege of maintenance, implied in the houche 
 of court, a comparatively small number of the palace inmates 
 were admitted ; but for the personal attendants both of the King 
 and Queen, there was in general kept a plentiful table, and to 
 the six maids of honour were allotted a chet loaf and a manchet, 
 a chine of beef, and a gallon of ale for breakfast.* 
 
 costly); and it is forbidden to the King's attendants to steal locks or 
 keys from cupboards, or other articles of furniture out of noblemen's 
 or gentlemen's houses where he goes to visit. The King's barber is 
 enjoined to be cleanly, and by no means to frequent the company of 
 misguided women, and idle persons. The Knight Marshal is directed 
 to take good care that all such unthrifty and common women as follow 
 the court be banished. 
 
 * " King Henry," says Loyd, "understood a man and a dish. Among 
 the dainties which he relished, were giggots of mutton or venison, 
 stopped with cloves ; chickens in crituary ; larkes, sparrow, or lamb 
 stued with chines of mutton ; venison pasty; jelly hippocras ; cream 
 of almonds. 
 
 " Stabling was allowed to such of the Queen's gentlewomen as were 
 peers' daughters. Seven messes of ladies dined at the same table in 
 the great chamber ; a chet loaf and manchet, ale and wine, beef and 
 mutton, were supplied in abundance, with the addition of capons or 
 hens, pigeons and conies. On fast-days, salt salmon, salted eels, whi- 
 tings, gurnet, plaice, and flounders : fruit was reserved for Lent : but- 
 ter was always allowed in profusion. 
 
 "The Queen's table was furnished with more elegance, and with the 
 12 * 
 
138 MEALS. 
 
 The utmost regularity was observed in the order and rotation 
 of meals. The gentlemen and ladies dined in separate apart- 
 mentS; at stated hours, throughout the year, never departing 
 from this rule, but on high and especial occasions. It was the 
 prerogative of the King alone to dine when he thought proper ; 
 and to Henry, who was notoriously an epicure, this prerogative 
 was perhaps of some importance. 
 
 The Queen's maids, although gentlewomen by birth and edu- 
 cation, appear not to have possessed any peculiar privileges : 
 they were indeed permitted to retain in attendance on their per- 
 sons a waiting-woman and a spaniel ; to receive presents and 
 amatory verses from their servants ; and exhibit emblems and de- 
 vices among their rivals and admirers. To the monotony of 
 their life some little interruption was offered, when they migrated 
 at Christmas and Easter, from Richmond to Eltham, or from 
 Greenwich to Bridewell,* the usual residence of the royal family 
 
 additional delicacies of fricandes or custard, frytliour or tarte; be- 
 sides every delicacy of the season. 
 
 " The brewer is enjoined not to put hops or brimstone into the ale. 
 
 "A swan was five shillings, a capon eighteen-pence, pigeons eight- 
 pence per dozen ; a fat heron was eight-pence, a partridge four-pence, 
 pullets three-pence, each ; conies two shillings per dozen ; the stork, 
 the bustard, and the crane were then admitted to the table. 
 
 *'A munificent provision of twenty-four loaves per day was made for 
 the king's greyhounds : other dogs were banished the court, with the 
 exception of spaniels kept for the ladies. 
 
 "A gift was allowed to whoever married, or made the king a present." 
 
 * Whenever the King and court removed, it was usual to transport 
 with them the hangings, bedding, and portable furniture ; all included 
 under the general appellation of hoTisehold stufi". The enormous sum 
 of three hundred pounds was allowed in the household book to defray 
 
MAIDS OF HONOUR. 139 
 
 in London : and tbej participated in the bustle and confusion 
 incident to each dislodgement of the royal household. During 
 the summer, they were often treated with an excursion to 
 Windsor, the traditionary seat of Oberon and Titania ; or to the 
 still more romantic shades of Havering-Bower ;* and sometimes, 
 though rarely, they were permitted to accompany the King and 
 Queen in a royal progress to some baronial castle, at a consider- 
 able distance from the metropolis. 
 
 In expeditions such as these, performed on horseback, through 
 roads little frequented, and districts thinly populated, the fair 
 equestrians had to experience fatigue and inconvenience, for 
 which they were amply repaid by the gallantry of their servants 
 or protectors. In the march of a royal progress, as in that of a 
 victorious army, contributions were levied on the neighbouring 
 gentry, who were eager to offer accommodation and amusements 
 to such distinguished guests. 
 
 ** Whether Anne Boleyn repined at the restraints annexed to 
 her situation, or whether the heart, that seemed light as air, 
 was really susceptible of tender emotions, it is certain, that she 
 had not long been an inmate of the English court, before she 
 listened to an overture of marriage. Among other prerogatives 
 of prelates and cardinals, it was, assuredly, not the least flatter- 
 ing, that the sons of noblemen were often placed in their house- 
 hold for education and improvement, and ushered into life under 
 their care and superintendence. The palace of Wolsey was, with 
 reason, considered as the best introduction to the court, and the 
 
 the expenses incidental to each migration. See the Ordonnances of the 
 Royal Household ; also several papers in the Archaeologia. 
 
 * Havering-Bower, in Essex ; a favourite spot with Queen Cathe- 
 rine. 
 
140 THE EARL OF NORTPIUMBERLAND. 
 
 fairest avenue to preferment. It waS; therefore, not surprising, 
 that even the Earl of Northumberland, the most genuine repre- 
 sentative of the old English nobility, should solicit and obtain 
 for his eldest son this envied distinction. Of the Hotspurs, the 
 present earl was confessedly a degenerate descendant, since he 
 had surrendered the trust, long hereditary in his family, of 
 Warden of the Marches ; and, during a temporary dispute with 
 the King, solicited the intercession of Wolsey to avert his dis- 
 pleasure. But if the earl emulated not his forefathers in hero- 
 ism, he surpassed them in urbanity and cultivation; and in his 
 domestic establishments, both at Wresil Castle and Leckingfield 
 Manor, he displayed indications of an improved and progressive 
 taste, whilst he retained whatever was admirable in feudal gran- 
 deur, or worthy of royal munificence. To the mind of a re- 
 flective spectator, there is something in the Grothic turrets and 
 moated walls of a baronial castle, that produces involuntary im- 
 pressions of melancholy and respect, and conjures to fancy an 
 image of antiquity, at once awful and attractive, touching and 
 sublime. But this sentiment is the offspring of modern refine- 
 ment; an association that clings to the ^^ ivy -man tied towers;'' 
 an emotion inspired by the silence that pervades the halls and 
 chambers, and which imparts a certain sepulchral solemnity to 
 those relics and ruins of departed greatness. In reality, the 
 castellated mansion of our forefathers was little calculated to 
 awaken serious thoughts or refined feelings; and, except in 
 the absence of the family, presented a constant scene of bolster ■ 
 ous mirth, litigious broils, and bustling activity. The ap- 
 proach to a nobleman's seat was indicated by the baying of 
 hounds, the jingle of hawks' bells, the lowing of herds, with 
 other symbols of rural occupation. The aspect of the draw- 
 
ANCIENT CASTLES. 141 
 
 bridge and jDortcullis was somewhat repulsive; but to these 
 
 features of a ruder ao-e were contrasted others more cono;e- 
 
 nialj and the spacious park, the blooming orchards, the fra- 
 
 I grance of the plants, the flight of birds, all announced the 
 
 "^ vicinity of peace and affluence, security and luxury. A little 
 
 I town was included within the walls, in which the inhabitants 
 
 presented almost every shade of English society. The crowded 
 
 ^ hall reflected the image of old Gothic hospitality : at the long 
 
 oak-table the guest continued to be seated, and served above and 
 
 below the salt-cellar ; but the lord and lady no longer presided 
 
 beneath the Dais j"^ and in the three or four chambers fitted up 
 
 for their reception was to be detected something of transalpine 
 
 elegance, intermingled with oriental luxury.-j" The loom of 
 
 Antwerp furnished the arras, which contributed so essentially 
 
 to the comfort and embellishment of the apartments ; and pithy 
 
 sentences and metrical stanzas were sometimes unrolled in orna- 
 
 * In the old baronial hall, it is well known, a large salt-cellar stood 
 
 . in the middle of the table, above or below which the guests were 
 
 J. seated, according to their station. In the elder times, the lord and 
 
 lady took their place, on a seat raised above the rest, under a canopy, 
 
 hence called a Dais. 
 
 ■j- At the Earl of Northumberland's castle of Wresil, was a study 
 called Paradise ; a closet in the middle, of eight squares, latticed: at the 
 top of every square was a desk lodged to set books on books, on coflfers 
 within them ; and these seemed as if joined to the top of the closet ; 
 and yet, by pulling, one or all would come down, and serve for desks 
 to lay books on. In the two principal chambers were small beautiful 
 staircases, with octagon screens, covered with bold sculptures, from 
 the designs of Palladio. — -See the Household Book of Henry Algernon 
 Percy, Earl of Northumberland. 
 
142 WRESIL CASTLE. 
 
 mented tapestry.* Amongst tlie members of this motley family " 
 ■were found mechanics^ artisans^ boorS; vagrantS; scholars and 
 poetS; tumblerS; jugglers, and jesters. Various were the esta- 
 blishments formed in this compendious household. The choris- 
 ters of the chapel were regularly instructed in music. The fal- 
 coner had his auxiliaries : and a field was consecrated to the 
 triumphs of archery. The banqueting-house and tennis-court 
 offered resources for an idle hour. A master of the revels was 
 ready at Christmas to exhibit playsf and mummeries suited to 
 
 * In Wresil Castle, and other mansions, some of the apartments were 
 adorned in the oriental manner, with metrical inscriptions, called Pro- 
 verbes. In one of the chambers at Wresil Castle, is a poem of twenty- 
 four stanzas, each containing seven lines, of which the following is a 
 specimen : — 
 
 When it is tyme of cost, and great expence. 
 
 Beware of waste, and sparely measure ; 
 Who that outrageously maketh his dispence, 
 Looseth his goods, not long for to endure. 
 
 There were gardens within and orchards without the moat. In the 
 orchards were raised artificial mounts, the ascent to the top of which 
 was by winding walks, like steps, composed of cockle-shells, so con- 
 trived as to reach the summit without labour. 
 
 Of this immense mansion, a very small part was furnished : four or 
 five rooms were fitted up for the great folks ; the rest were merely 
 offices and cabins, in which beds of the coarsest kind were provided, 
 as occasion required. There was the gallery, the chapel, my lord's 
 chamber, my lady's closet, the nursery, the great chamber, the carved 
 chamber, paradise ; and the lower house, the hall, the spicery, &c. 
 
 j- These were something in the style of the old mysteries or mora- 
 lities. 
 
 It was stipulated that the almoner should be a maker of interludes. 
 Amongst the immates of the household were officers of arms, heralds, 
 
AMUSEMENTS. 143 
 
 tliG occasion. In fine weather, the park invited to exercise, 
 whilst the horrors of a dull day were beguiled by chess and dice, 
 and the privileged jester.* In many of its features, the baronial 
 mansion was obviously the counterpart of the royal palace. The 
 lady had her gentlewomen attendants ; the lord his council : and 
 so little was it considered a disparagement to men of gentle 
 blood, to enter such service, that the pages were commonly chosen 
 from families of rank, and often attained the honours of knight- 
 hood. No contrast could be more striking than what the same 
 mansion presented during the residence or absence of its nume- 
 rous family, when stripped of all moveable furniture, without 
 plate or porcelain, dismantled of its arras, by men and animals 
 alike deserted, it almost realized the images of desolation and 
 proscription so beautifully pourtraycd in the Cid, — '^ when no 
 
 yeomen of the cliamlDers, yeomen of the household, fourteen gentlemen 
 and choristers of the chapel, tAvo bass singers, two tenor ; domestic 
 minstrels, with the tabret, the lute, the rebeck : there were also fal- 
 coners, archers, carpenters, painters, carvers, &c. "When the family 
 removed to Leckingfield Manor, the rooms were stripped of hangiuns 
 and furniture, and thirteen carts filled with household stuff. — See the 
 Accompt Book of the Household of Henry Algernon, Earl of Northum- 
 berland. 
 
 * There was also a master of the grammar-school. To the chapel 
 were annexed a dean, a sub-dean, an almoner, two priests, my lord's 
 secretary, my lord's riding chaplain, a priest for my lord, a priest for 
 the eldest son, another for my lord's household, another to read the 
 Gospel daily in the chapel ; there was another to sing mass daily ; and 
 there were six children choristers. 
 
 The ordinary breakfast of my lord and my lady was of two man- 
 chets, a quart of beer, a quart of wine, two pieces of salt fish— her- 
 rings or sprats. At the other meals, capons, mutton, eels, pigs, and 
 pigeons predominated. 
 
144 PERCY WOOES ANNE BOLEYN. 
 
 hawks were seen on the perches ; no cloaks lying on the benches ; 
 no voices heard in the hall, which had so lately echoed the sound 
 of mirth and revelry : and now, like a city desolated by plague, 
 seemed hut one vast sepulchre, prepared to receive the dead." 
 Such was Wresil Castle ; such the seat of the Percies ; and there, 
 hut for the tyranny of Henry's passion, had Anne Boleyn lived 
 in elegant and unambitious retirement. The young Lord Percy 
 attended the cardinal in his daily visits to the King ; and whilst 
 the favourite was admitted to a private conference with his 
 master, his noble page amused himself in one of the Queen's 
 apartments, where he was sure to meet with the Maid of Honour. 
 
 In the progress of their acquaintance a mutual attachment 
 was created, and the young nobleman frankly offered his hand, 
 which was as frankly accepted. From his father the lover anti- 
 cipated no opposition; his mistress felt equally assured of paren- 
 tal approbation ; and to their mutual felicity nothing was wan- 
 ting but caution and concealment. Unfortunately, Lord Percy 
 had not acquired experience, and Anne was never destined to 
 learn discretion. Their unguarded looks were noticed, their 
 reciprocal sentiments suspected ; and Henry, who had hitherto 
 regarded Anne merely as an object of amusement, suddenly dis- 
 covered that he had conceived for her a violent passion. 
 
 There is something truly characteristic of an arbitrary spirit, 
 in the abrupt explosion of his feelings, and in his prompt and 
 decided resolution, to withhold Anne Boleyn from the possession 
 of another. Naturally vain and susceptible of flattery, he per- 
 haps doubted not of really supplanting Lord Percy in her affec- 
 tions. He was at least determined to divide her from his rival, 
 without having any distinct idea in what manner he should 
 attach her to his own person. In this perplexity he had recourse, 
 
THE LOVERS SEPARATED. 141 
 
 as usual; to Wolsey ; who, at once to conceal and gratify his 
 master's wishes, suggested the expedient of sending for the old 
 Earl of Northumberland, by whose parental prerogative the 
 engagement might be cancelled without any other interference. 
 In the meanwhile he undertook, by his own authority, to pre- 
 vent Lord Percy from seeing the object of his love ; a task in 
 which he employed neither persuasion nor kindness, but, if we 
 may credit Cavendish, upbraided and rebuked his folly with the 
 most unfeeling asperity ; commanding him, as he valued life and 
 honour, for ever to desist from the pursuit of Anne Boleyn. 
 
 Contrary to his ordinary habits of deference and submission, 
 the young lord justified his choice, expressing his conviction 
 that his father could form no reasonable objection to his mis- 
 tress, who, in birth and accomplishments, was fully his equal ; 
 and " though," he added, ^' she be but a simple knight's 
 daughter, by her mother she is well nigh the Norfolk blood, and 
 her father is one of the heirs general of the Earl of Ormond."* 
 
 Incensed, or rather, perhaps, alarmed at this opposition, the 
 cardinal arraigned his disloyalty ; adding, that though the lady 
 knew it not, she was, by her sovereign, promised to another, with 
 whom he was sure she would be well satisfied. At this fatal in- 
 timation, aggravated by the idea of Anne's possible infidelity, 
 Lord Percy could no longer restrain his tears ; and, in an agony 
 of grief, such as can only be felt when the heart is suddenly 
 
 * From this passage, it appears that his attachment took place be- 
 fore September 1525, when Sir Thomas Boleyn was created Viscount 
 Rochford. The editor of Henry's love-letters, in the Harleian Miscel- 
 lany, pretends that Anne Boleyn did not come to England till 1527 ; 
 a palpable mistake, since the Earl of Northumberland, the father of 
 Lord Percy, died in 1526. 
 13 
 
146 WOLSEY AND NORTHUMBERLAND. 
 
 bereaved of hope and happiness, lie implored the cardinal' s in 
 tercession to soften the King in his favour ; protesting that he 
 had given his mistress a pledge never to he withdrawn but with 
 the sacrifice of honour. Disconcerted by tenacity so little ex- 
 pected; the wary statesman broke off the conversation, and in- 
 stantly despatched a special messenger to the north, who was 
 charged not to return without the Earl of Northumberland. 
 With whatever surprise or displeasure the earl received the 
 summons, it was one to which he presumed not to refuse implicit 
 obedience. When his barge reached York Grate, the cardinal 
 proceeded to the gallery, to welcome his noble guest, and without 
 allowing him to exchange a word with his son, conducted him to 
 his private apartment. Their interview was long but decisive. 
 Little as the earl was disposed to resist the prerogative, which had 
 been long exercised by the sovereign, in forming or controlling the 
 alliances of noble subjects, he was, perhaps, as little inclined to 
 accept, as his daughter-in-law, a woman who had received a 
 foreign education, and who, though '^ well nigh" to the Norfolk 
 blood, was not heiress to the estates of Butler and Ormond. 
 With avidity, therefore, did he listen to the cardinal's represen- 
 tations, and readily promised to adopt his prudent counsels. 
 After this satisfactory explanation, they parted with every de- 
 monstration of cordial friendship; and the earl, that no sus- 
 picion might remain of his real intentions, in repassing the 
 gallery, took his seat on a bench in front of the river, and call- 
 ing to him his son, who approached with humble reverence, in 
 the presence of the pages and the other nu.merous attendants, 
 publicly reprehended his late conduct, solemnly enjoining him, 
 on the penalty of disinheritance, to renounce for ever the hope 
 of being united to Anne Boleyn. The dialogue, as related by 
 
 n- V' 
 
NORTHUMBERLAND UPBRAIDS HIS SON. 147 
 
 Cavendish, affords a curious picture of the domestic manners of 
 the age, and strikingly exemplifies the slavish submission ex- 
 acted for parental authority.* " Son, quoth he, even as thou 
 art, and always hast been, a proud, licentious, disdainful, and a 
 very unthrifty waster ; so hast thou now declared thyself : where- 
 fore, what joy, what comfort, what pleasure or solace shall I 
 conceive of thee, that thus, without discretion, hast misused thy- 
 self, having neither regard unto thy natural father, nor unto 
 thy natural sovereign lord, to whom all subjects loyal bear 
 faithful obedience, nor yet to the wealth of thine own estate, 
 but hast so unadvisedly assured thyself unto her, for whom 
 thou hast purchased the King's high displeasure, intolerable 
 for any subject to sustain; and, but that his Grace doth con- 
 sider the lightness of thy head, and wilful qualities of thy 
 person, his displeasure and indignation were sufl&cient to cast 
 me and all my posterity into utter ruin and destruction ; but 
 he being my singular good and fatvourable Prince, and my 
 lord Cardinal my good lord, hath and doth clearly excuse me 
 in thy lewd fact, and doth rather lament thy lightness than 
 malign me for the same, and hath devised an order to be 
 taken for thee, to whom both thou and I be more bound than 
 we be able well to consider : I pray to God, that this may be 
 unto thee a sufficient admonition to use thyself more wisely here- 
 after ; for that as I assure thee, if thou dost not amend thy 
 prodigality, thou wilt be the last Earl of our house; for, of thy 
 natural inclination, thou art disposed to be wasteful and prodigal, 
 
 * Cavendish appears, in imitation of contemporary chroniclers, to 
 have at least lengthened, if not composed, the speeches here detailed. 
 They are, however, corroborated by the Twisden manuscripts, lately 
 published in Dr. Nott's Life of Wiatt. 
 
148 ANNE'S RESENTMENT. 
 
 and to consume all that thy progenitors have with great travail 
 gathered; and kept together with honour ; but loving the King's 
 majesty^ my singular good and gracious lord, I trust, I assure 
 thee, so to order my succession, that ye shall consume thereof 
 but a little ; for I do not intend, I tell thee truth, to make thee 
 my heir ; for, thanks be to Grod, I have more boys, that, I trust, 
 will prove much better, and use themselves more like world-wise 
 and honest men, of whom I will choose the most likely to suc- 
 ceed me. Now, good masters and gentlemen (quoth he unto us,) 
 it may be your chances hereafter, when I am dead, to see these 
 things, that I have spoken to my son, prove so true as I speak 
 them : yet, in the mean season, I desire you all to be his friends, 
 and to tell him his fault when he doeth amiss, wherein ye shall 
 show yourselves friendly unto him ; and here (quoth he), I take 
 my leave of you ; and, son, go your ways unto my lord, your 
 master, and attend upon him according to thy duty. And so 
 he departed, and went his way, down the hall, into his barge/^ 
 
 In the mean while, a similar task was imposed on Sir Thomas 
 Boleyn, who, however unwilling to relinquish such an advanta- 
 geous connection, was equally prompt in obeying the King's 
 wishes, and consented to withdraw his daughter from the court, 
 without suffering a murmur to escape his lips. It was other- 
 wise with Anne, who, naturally high spirited and ingenuous, 
 could neither suppress nor conceal her resentment. She was, 
 however, so far from penetrating the real cause of her disappoint- 
 ment, that she attributed it exclusively to the cardinal's mali- 
 cious interference ; and, on leaving the palace, protested with an 
 impetuosity which, fatally for herself, she never learnt to con- 
 trol, that she would some day find the means to requite the 
 injury. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ANNE BOLEYN's RETIREMENT AT HEVER CASTLE. RECALL TO 
 
 COURT. CELEBRATED BY SIR THOMAS WIATT. PROGRESS 
 
 OF henry's ATTACHMENT. 
 
 Anne's Apartment at Hever Castle — The Boleyn Family — Discord — 
 Marriage "of Percy — Henry visits Hever — Her Father promoted — 
 Sir Wm. Carey — Anne returns to Court — Her Sentiments towards the 
 King — Scholars at Court — Fineux Diplomacy — Lawyers — Poets and 
 Authors — Wiatt and Surrey — Wiatt's Admiration of Anne — His 
 Attentions — Wiatt a Protestant — The Jewel — Henry's Gallantry — 
 The King — Correspondence — Henry's Letters — Anne's Prudence — A 
 Game at Cards — Catherine's Forbearance — The Pope's Bull — Law of 
 Divorce — Wolsey's Policy — Henry's Courtship. 
 
 On quitting the court, Anne Boleyn indignantly retired to 
 her father's favourite residence at Hever Castle.* The aspect 
 of this edifice, which had been originally built in the reign of 
 
 ^ Hever Castle, in Kent, derives its name from a Norman Baron, 
 who, under Edward the Third, obtained the King's license to embattle 
 his manor-house. By his daughters it was conveyed to the families of 
 Cobham and Brown. The former having acquired the whole by pur- 
 chase, sold it to Geoffrey Boleyn. On the death of Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
 in 1538, Henry, with matchless rapacity, claimed it in right of a wife, 
 from whom, previous to her being beheaded, he had been divorced. 
 The manor was afterwards settled on the Lady Anne of Cleves ; after 
 her death, granted to Sir Edward Waldegrave, from whose family it 
 passed to the Humphreys, and finally to the family of the Medleys in 
 Sussex. 
 
 ]3* (149) 
 
150 HEVER CASTLE. 
 
 Edward the Third; was venerable and imposing. In its moated 
 walls, its Grothic turrets, and military drawbridge, might be traced 
 the same stern features of feudal magnificence which reigned 
 in the majestic towers of Wresil Castle, that ancient seat of the 
 Percies, of which she had so lately hoped to become the mistress. 
 The entrance to this mansion was by a gateway, flanked with 
 round towers, and protected by a portcullis ; but hospitality 
 reigned within that mansion, of which the approach was rude 
 and uninviting. The spacious hall recalled the image of baronial 
 festivity, and on the windows of the long winding gallery, Anne 
 Boleyn might trace a series of heraldic honours, sufficiently illus- 
 trious to challenge alliance with the house of Percy. In her 
 mother's right she beheld the four-coated shield of Howard, Bro- 
 therton, Warren, and Mowbray ; whilst with still greater exulta- 
 tion she traced the eight quarters of Hoo, St. Omer, Malmains, 
 Wickingham, St. Leger, Wallop, Ormond, that emblazoned her 
 paternal escutcheon.''' The wainscoted apartment which she 
 occupied, with plain oaken panels, is yet in existence. The long 
 gallery she so often traversed with impatience, still seems to re- 
 echo her steps j and after the vicissitudes of three centuries, the 
 
 •^ The armorial bearings of the Boleyns, with an additional shield 
 of the Waldgraves, are still preserved on the windows of the castle. 
 For Ormond, there is argent, three buckles, gules ; a shield of four 
 coats for Brotherton, Howard, Warren, Mowbray ; a shield of eight 
 coats for Bulleyn, Hoo, St. Omer, Malmains, Wickingham, St. Leger, 
 Wallop, Ormond. — Anne Boleyn's armorial bearings were originally — 
 argent, a cheyreux between three bull's heads, couped sable. When 
 she was created Marchioness of Pembroke, these were disused, and 
 another was granted. — See Sandford's Genealogical History of the 
 Kings of England. 
 
THE BOLEYN FAMILY. 151 
 
 impression of Iier youth, lier beauty, and singular destiny, 
 remains fresh and vivid to the susceptible imagination. In re- 
 verting to the tragical history of the passions, we cease to mea- 
 sure the distance that separates us from a departed age ; and 
 whilst each surrounding object wears an antiquated aspect, we 
 revert with lively interest to those records of suffering and feel- 
 ing which can never become obsolete : the image of one, whose 
 heart has long ceased to throb with human emotion, still speaks 
 to our sympathies, and imperatively appeals to our pity or our 
 justice. 
 
 The settlement of the Boleyns in this neighbourhood, origi- 
 nated with the prosperous citizen. Sir Geoffrey, who, not satisfied 
 with having acquired the manor of Blickling, in Norfolk, secured 
 to his heirs a retreat in Kent, by purchasing from the ancient 
 family of the Grandisons the manor of Kemsing, including the 
 villages of Hever, Scale, and Brocas. In the eyes of his suc- 
 cessor, Sir William Boleyn, Bochford Hall possessed more at- 
 tractions; but Sir Thomas, who probably found his revenue 
 inadequate to the support of that stately mansion, eagerly em- 
 braced every opportunity to extend his Kentish demesnes ; and 
 having exchanged with the King, New Hall, in Essex, for certain 
 rights of property in this county, he enlarged the bounds of 
 Hever Castle, embellished the surrounding plantations, and 
 finally selected it for his principal residence. It has been already 
 observed, that the prosperity of Sir Geoffrey Boleyn was not 
 transmitted to his descendants in equal proportions. Of the 
 numerous daughters of Sir William Boleyn, one alone was raised 
 to the honours of nobility, by marrying the Marquis of Dorset. 
 Of his sons, the second settled in Norfolk ; John entered the 
 church ; whilst Edward, like his eldest brother, Thomas, aspired 
 
152 FAMILY DISCORD. 
 
 to preferment ; and having married Jane Dacre^ the heiress of Sir 
 John Temj^est^ obtained a place at court; and^ with his wife^ at- 
 tendedin the suite of Henry and Catherine^ at Gruisnes. * Although 
 the harmony of these two brothers appears not to have been 
 interrupted, it was otherwise with their respective consorts, 
 the Lady Edward, and the Lady Elizabeth Boleyn, in whose 
 distaste to her sister-in-law, Anne is said to have strongly 
 participated. Nor was much cordiality preserved in their 
 intercourse with the Howards, since the name of Boleyn 
 is not discovered in the list of visiters whose names are 
 preserved among the domestic archives of Tendring Hall."|" 
 It is not surprising that the reign of Henry the Eighth should 
 have been fruitful in examples of unnatural hostility among the 
 nearest domestic connections. The atmosphere of his court was 
 little favourable to the growth of those benevolent or tender 
 affections, which never flourish amidst the perpetual alarms of 
 jealousy, rivalry, and competition. The preferment that depends 
 on the caprice of an arbitrary individual must often be unjustly 
 withheld, or unworthily bestowed. Irritated by care and cha- 
 grin, the disappointed become suspicious, — the persecuted imbibe 
 the spirit of malignity, — the desire of vengeance constitutes the 
 hope and the solace of despair. Neither the ties of blood nor 
 the sympathies of friendship afford protection from those baser 
 passions incident to a state of moral and political degradation. 
 
 * See Pedigree in the Appendix. Lady Edward Boleyn, afterwards 
 Lady of the Bedchamher to Queen Anne Boleyn, appears to have been 
 envious of her niece's advancement. 
 
 ■j- The chief residence of Thomas Earl of Surrey, afterwards Duke 
 of Norfolk. An account-book is still extant, in which is a list of the 
 visiters, with an account of every day's fare. See Nott's Life of Surrey. 
 
MARRIAGE OF PERCY. 153 
 
 Whilst Anne Boleyn was repining in exile, the situation of 
 her lover was still more painful. It was not enough that he 
 had been separated from the woman he adored. To satisfy the 
 King's despotic passion, he must be compelled to pledge his faith 
 to another bride ; and finally the Lady Mary Talbot, the youth- 
 ful daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, was forced on his 
 reluctant acceptance. The authority of his sovereign, or the 
 pusillanimity of his father, prevailed over fidelity and love ; and 
 at the moment that his high-spirited mistress indulged dreams 
 of hope and happiness, she was suddenly stunned by the intel- 
 ligence, that Lord Percy was really married. It is easy to con- 
 ceive how acutely she felt, how bitterly she resented, the in- 
 jury ; with what vehemence she accused the unfaithful lover, 
 whose facility must have incurred contempt, even more than 
 Wolsey or Henry had provoked abhorrence. Anne was of that 
 ardent temper, which is too often betrayed to violence and in- 
 justice j but her resentments, though keen, were not permanent, 
 nor could she be classed with those wary dissemblers, who brood 
 over real or imaginary wrongs in vindictive silence. At this 
 moment there is no reason to believe she divined the true source 
 of her disappointment : even her father's sagacity appears not 
 to have penetrated the mystery ; and he probably attributed the 
 royal interposition solely to that spirit of domination which he 
 had long remarked in his jealous sovereign's character, of whom 
 it was too justly predicted, that he would not scruple to strike 
 off even a favourite^ s head, if it obstructed his views of advan- 
 tage.* 
 
 * A saying of Sir Thomas INIore, in reply to the congratulation of his 
 son-in-law, Roper, on his having received a visit from the King, who 
 walked with him in his garden at Chelsea, putting his arm around his 
 
154 HENRY VISITS HEVER. 
 
 According to local tradition^* however, tlie mist vanished 
 from his eyes, when he suddenly saw the King arrive by stealth 
 at Hever, on some frivolous pretext, which ill disguised his real 
 errand, that he came hut to steal a glimpse of the lovely Anne 
 Boleyn. Alarmed by this marked attention, Sir Thomas is said 
 to have sedulously withdrawn his daughter from the King's 
 vi«w, and during his visit, on the plea of indisposition, to have 
 kept her confined to her chamber. Whatever credit be attached 
 to this tale, it is certain that a considerable time intervened 
 before Anne resumed her place at court •,'f and that her father, 
 created Lord Viscount Rochford, was advanced to the office of 
 treasurer of the royal household. By this elevation, however, 
 no sinister suspicion could he awakened, since the long and 
 faithful services of Sir Thomas Boleyn might have challenged a 
 more liberal recompense ; and even envy was silenced by a liberal 
 distribution of similar favours on other courtiers. In the num- 
 ber of these new peers were two royal children ; of whom the 
 one, the offspring of the French Queen and the Duke of Suffolk, 
 was created Earl of Lincoln 3 and the other, Henry's own son 
 by Lady Tallbois, exalted to the dignity of Duke of Richmond 
 
 neck, and leaning familiarly on his shoulder: "I thank the King's 
 Grace," said More; "but albeit he is a gracious prince, if my head 
 could win him a castle in France, it would not long be on these shoul- 
 ders." 
 
 •^' See the account of Hever Castle, in Hasted's Kent. 
 
 f See Cavendish, whose authority is quoted by Lord Herbert, and 
 tacitly referred to by Bishop Godwin. It is also worthy of remark, that 
 many of the details respecting Anne Boleyn, originally supplied by 
 the former writer, who is well known to have been gentleman-usher to 
 Cardinal Wolsey, are substantiated by the MS. of another gentleman 
 resident in the family, which has been lately published in the Appen- 
 dix of Dr. Nott's Life of Sir Thomas Wiatt. 
 
SIR WILLIAM CAREY. 155 
 
 and Somerset ; an elevation by which he rather evinced fondness 
 for his offspring than respect for his people. 
 
 Nor was it only in his own person that Sir Thomas Boleyn 
 tasted of royal munificence : his son-in-law, Sir William Carey, 
 was advanced to the post of gentleman of the privy chamber. 
 Descended from an ancient family in Devonshire, this gentleman 
 possessed hereditary claims on the gratitude of the House of 
 Lancaster : his father had fought under its banner, till, by the 
 fatal chance of war, falling into the hands of the Yorkists, he 
 was ignominiously dragged from the sanctuary to the scaffold. 
 Of his two sons, John, the elder, succeeded to the patrimonial 
 demesnes ;* whilst William, the younger, was, like Charles Bran- 
 don, patronized at court, and placed as an esquire about the 
 King's person. In this situation it was his fortune to win the 
 hand (contrary to her mother's will) of Mary Boleyn, whose fair 
 blooming complexion, and lightbrown tresses, are said to have 
 sometimes wrested from her sister the prize of beauty. f 
 
 At length Anne Boleyn was recalled to court; a summons 
 that, it may be presumed, she awaited with impatience, not so 
 
 * Cockington, in Devonshire. — Sir John Carey was the progenitor 
 of the celebrated Lucius Lord Falkland, who evinced such generous 
 loyalty to Charles the First. 
 
 f A portrait of this lady is in existence at Warwick Castle. Mary 
 Boleyn is always mentioned by historians as the younger sister ; and, 
 supposing Anne to have been born in 1507, must have married very 
 early. Sanders, indeed, pretends that she was many years older than 
 Anne, and had been previously seduced by Henry ; but of this he can 
 adduce no other proof than two or three declamatory passages in Car- 
 dinal Pole's letters, in which the absence of fact is attempted to be sup- 
 plied by invective. It was obviously the ol)ject of the Catholic party to 
 fix on Henry such suspicions as must invalidate the scriptural argu- 
 ments in favour of his divorce. From a passage in one of Henry's let- 
 
156 ANNE RETURNS TO COURT. 
 
 mucli because she siglied for pleasure, as because she longed to 
 evince, by the gayety of her deportment, that she esteemed not 
 her former lover worthy of regret. At this period it was scarcely 
 possible she should have entertained for Henry any favourable 
 sentiments : it may be doubted whether she even regarded, 
 with complacency, the domestic tyrant, who already neglected 
 that Queen, for whom, if we may credit her encomiastic biogra- 
 her,* she was disposed to feel sincere attachment. Under other 
 circumstances, she might have admired his majestic form, his 
 animated countenance, and gallant deportment ; but she could 
 not easily forget that he had opposed her elevation, scarcely 
 could she forgive that he had disparaged her alliance ; and it may 
 reasonably be supposed, that resentment lurked even in the 
 smiles with which she met the King's expressive looks of pas- 
 ters to Anne Boleyn, it should seem that this Mary Boleyn, whose first 
 husband died in 1528, had by some indiscretions forfeited her mother's 
 regard : nothing, therefore, could be more apt for the fabrication of 
 the calumny afterwards obtruded on notice ; which, when coolly ex- 
 amined, is too preposterous to require refutation. Is it possible to be- 
 lieve, that Anne Boleyn would have been exposed by her parents to 
 that seduction, which to her sister had already proved fatal ? To sup- 
 pose this, would almost be paramount to an admission of the disgust- 
 ing story fabricated by Sanders, which even Cardinal Pole leaves un- 
 supported. It is pretended, that Mary Boleyn, instigated by envy of 
 her sister Anne's ti'iumph, apprised Queen Catherine of her own in- 
 trigue, and that she consequently became the object of that sister's 
 hatred ; but it appears from the correspondence, that Henry himself, at 
 the request of Anne, promised to intercede with her father to assist 
 Mary Bolej^n after her husband's death. By Sir William Carey she 
 had two children : a son, who became Baron Huusdon ; and a daughter, 
 who was married to Sir Philip Knolles, Mary Boleyn's second hus- 
 band was Sir William Stafford. See Appendix. 
 ^ Wiatt. 
 
SCHOLARS AT COURT. 157 
 
 sionate admiration. lu Henry's court, she might also have dis- 
 covered many men more accomplished than her despotic sovereign. 
 At the very opening of his reign there had been a dawn of im- 
 provement, of which the progress was already perceptible : the 
 nobility were then celebrated as the patrons of letters ; they were 
 now more honourably distinguished as the ornaments of litera- 
 ture ; many of them were ambitious of literary eminence, and 
 not a few deservedly admitted to literary fame.* The love of 
 classical learning had revived in the clergy, by whose authority 
 schools and colleges for the education of youth were raised, on 
 the very site of monastic establishments. It is worthy of remark, 
 that almost all Henry's satellites, however dissimilar in their 
 habits, or their vocations, were confessedly men of approved 
 diplomatic ability. To the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of 
 Worcester, and Sir Edward Poinings, were awarded the 
 first honours in jousting. Audley,f Wriothesley,J and Fi- 
 
 * Bourchier Lord Berners translated Froissart's Chronicles; Parker 
 Lord Morely left several poems : these were the precursors of George 
 Boleyn, Wiatt, and the incomparable Surrey. 
 
 f After the death of Sir Thomas More, Sir Thomas Audley became 
 chancellor, who appears to have been an excellent time-server. He 
 supported the King's prerogative in parliament, and consulted the in- 
 clinations of the Queen-consort at court ; choosing rather, according to 
 Loyd, the expedient than the laicful, 
 
 " He enforced six bills against the clergy ; 1. The extortion of their 
 courts ; 2. The exaction of their crops and mortuaries ; 3. Their worldly 
 occupations, as grazing, tanning; 4. Their merchandise; 5. Their non- 
 residence ; 6. Their pluralities. When custom was urged in favour of 
 these abuses. Sir Thomas Audley replied, ' The usage hath ever been 
 for thieves to rob at Shooter's Hill ; is it therefore lawful ?' " 
 
 % Thomas Wriothesley, afterwards Earl of Southampton, was born 
 14 
 
158 FINEUX. 
 
 neux^* acquired pre-eminence at the bar ; but (witb the exception 
 of Sir Anthony Cookef) there was scarcely one of his confidants 
 
 in the Barbican. Loyd praises him extravagantly ; but that he was 
 detested as the instrument of Henry's cruelty and oppression, appears 
 from the following lines, written by one of the Earl of Surrey's 
 friends : — 
 
 From vile estate, of base and low degree, 
 
 By false deceit, by craft, and subtle ways ; 
 
 Of mischief mould, and key of cruelty, 
 
 Was crept full high, borne up by sundry stayes ; 
 
 Picture of pride, of papistry the plat, 
 
 In whom treason as in a throne did sit. 
 
 With ireful eye, or glearing like a cat ; 
 
 Killing by spight whom he thought fit to hit ; 
 
 This day is dead, — his soul is down to hell. 
 
 Noifs Life of Surrey. 
 
 * Sir John Fineus, born at Swinkfield, in Kent, of obscure origin ; 
 he had engraven on his sergeant's ring the motto, " Suce quisque fortuncB 
 faber ;" and it was his saying, " that no man thrived, but he that lived 
 as if he were the first man in the world, and his father were not born 
 before him." Forty years (says Loyd) he lived by industry. Under 
 Henry the Seventh he was a patriot ; and having resisted the imposi- 
 tion of the penny tax, the King, respecting or fearing his talents, made 
 him a judge, and showered on him preferment. Sir John Fineux ap- 
 pears to have improved every advantage ; since he married a rich wife, 
 and was steward for one hundred and twenty-nine manors. The most 
 honourable part of his character is, that he opposed the exactions of 
 Empson and Dudley. 
 
 -}■ Sir Anthony Cooke, of mercantile extraction, was born at Giddy 
 Hall, in Essex. His daughter Mildred was married to Cecil, the Lord 
 Treasurer ; his daughter Anne to Nicholas Bacon, Lord Chancellor ; like 
 Sir Thomas More, he determined to qualify his daughters to become 
 companions to men of sense. Lord Seymour was so much struck with 
 
DIPLOMACY. 159 
 
 who bad pretensions to celebrity, but bad been engaged in foreign 
 embassies, and negotiations. This peculiarity may in part bo 
 • referred to Henry's predilection for employing men of talents, 
 whom he had drawn from indigence and obscurity. Aware of 
 this trait in his character, it became the business of his confidants 
 and favourites to discover suitable objects of royal patronage ; and 
 as a course of continental travelling was essential to a liberal edu- 
 cation, it was customary to send each of these young probationers, 
 with an adequate pension,* to France, Italy, or G-ermany, on the 
 
 his method of instruction, that he recommended him to be the tutor o-f 
 his nephew Edward. During Queen Mary's reign, this wise and excel- 
 lent man lived in the retirement best suited to his taste : he appears 
 to have possessed all the amiable domestic affections of Sir Thomas 
 More, without his religious bigotry or singularity. 
 
 ■^ According to Loyd, the pension allowed was 125^. per year. Speak- 
 ing of Petei's, he adds, " His tutor is assigned, who had been there 
 before, and could instruct him what he should see, where he should 
 go, what acquaintance to entertain, what exercise or discipline to 
 undergo ; his instructions were drawn up, as that he should keep a 
 diary of what the chiefest places, and the eminent persons, either apart 
 or in conventions, yielded worthy of remark, and observation ; to have 
 before him a map or chart of every place he goeth to ; not to stay long 
 in any place ; to converse with no Englishman, but agents, ambassa- 
 dors, or such brave persons as his majesty would direct him to ; to 
 endeavour after recommendations from persons of quality in one place 
 to those in another ; keeping still his correspondence with the most 
 public and eminent persons of every respective place." It is added, 
 " That within five years he returned the complete gentleman ; correct- 
 ing the vices of one country with the virtues of another, and being 
 one happy composition of every region." This Peters, also, was a 
 native of Devonshire, born at Exeter, whence he was sent to All-souls- 
 college. Sir Thomas Boleyn chose him to be his son's tutor. 
 
160 THE COURT. 
 
 single condition^ — that they should maintain with the minister 
 a private circumstantial correspondence, by which he was enabled 
 to form a correct opinion of their comparative talents and dis- 
 cretion. Of the youths thus trained, many arrived at the first 
 honours of the state, and all acquired a polish of manner and an 
 aptness in conversation, which rendered them the ornaments of 
 society. Henry had, at his accession, found but one lawyer in 
 the privy council. In this respect he deviated wisely from his 
 father's system : under Wolsey's active superintendence the 
 forensic profession rose in general estimation ; and the bar be- 
 came the nursery of the senate and the council. 
 
 It is remarkable that Sir Thomas More and Sir Anthony 
 Cooke coincided in their ideas on the subject of female education, 
 and harmonized in their views of domestic felicity. Among the 
 more illustrious courtiers there were some who still remained to 
 support the dignity and splendour of the throne : of these. Sir 
 Edward Poinings, who had been elected one of the presiding 
 judges of the tournament at Guisnes, was the bravest cavalier, 
 and Sir John Russell, Earl of Bedford, the most accomplished 
 gentleman. Of the numerous diplomatists. Dr. Wotton* and 
 
 * Dr. Wotton went on thirteen embassies to foreign princes ; a man 
 of singular wisdom and modesty. Henry the Eighth once said to him, 
 " Sir, I have sent a head by Cromwell, a purse by Wolsey, a sword by 
 Brandon, and I must now send the law by you, to treat with my 
 enemies." — "Many," says Loyd, "envied this happy man ; but none 
 could do without him, who could sum up the merit of any cause, recol- 
 lect the circumstances of any affair, and show tables of trade, com- 
 merce, situation, revenue, interest, the readiest and exactest of any in 
 England." Wotton appears to have possessed a happy facility in his 
 religious opinions ; since he had the favour of Henry, the confidence 
 of the council ; belonged to Mary's junta, and to Elizabeth's statesmen. 
 
 I 
 
POETS AND AUTHORS. 161 
 
 Sir Thomas Boleyn were constantly in requisition. Sir William 
 Paget attracted most esteem abroad ; and Sir Robert Morison,* 
 " who was equally alert in a dance, a tourney, and a treaty, 
 gained most favour at home.'' Nor must mention bo omitted 
 of Sir Ralph Sadler, the only one, if we may believe the epi- 
 grammatic Loyd, in whose favour Henry the Eighth waived his 
 objection to little men.f 
 
 In adverting to the learned and ingenious men of the day, it 
 might be invidious to overlook poets and authors, were they not 
 almost uniformly identified with scholars and theologians. That 
 our native literature was still neglected, is evident ; since Sir 
 Thomas More, and many other ingenious men, continued to write 
 in a language familiar only to the learned reader. The living 
 spring of English poetry, at which Chaucer had slaked his thirst for 
 immortality, was neglected — almost forgotten. Skelton| was 
 the fashionable poet, whose uncouth rhymes owed their point 
 and their popularity rather to malice than to wit.§ Of the 
 
 * Sir R. Morison was distinguished by the superior elegance of his 
 Latin discourses. Tall and majestic, he was precisely such a man as 
 Henry the Eighth wished to make his representative. 
 
 •j- Sir Ralph Sadler was born at Hackney : he became the retainer 
 of Cromwell, who had been the servant of Wolsey, and was by Henry 
 appointed secretary of state. Versatility and activity were his dis- 
 tinguishing qualities : he knew how to fight and to write ; and was 
 equally able as a civilian and a negotiator. When this knight attended 
 Cromwell to Rome, his seiwant kindly purchased a pardon for the sins 
 of his master and all his descendants, to the third generation. — See 
 Fuller and Loyd. 
 
 I The poet laureat: who, although he satirized Wolsey, panegjo-ized 
 the customs and manners of the female nobility. 
 
 ^ Hawes was also popular ; as was Barclay, the translator of Argenis. 
 
162 SIR THOMAS WIATT. 
 
 ancient minstrelsy some relics still existed in fragments of ballads 
 or songS; of which the pathos and simplicity bespoke a welcome 
 from every heart. 
 
 Amidst this desolation of the native muse^ it was reserved for 
 two or three young men^ of gentle blood and liberal fortune, to 
 rebuild the altars and restore the schools of English poetry. 
 Of these, the most active and successful were Sir Thomas Wiatt 
 and the Earl of Surrey, the one the cousin, the other the im- 
 passioned admirer of Anne Boleyn. 
 
 In the education of Wiatt was included whatever was held to 
 be necessary to the formation of an accomplished gentleman. 
 His early childhood had been devoted to classical studies, and 
 gymnastic exercises. At eighteen he travelled, and at twenty 
 returned to England, endowed with every personal and mental 
 quality that could excite the envy of one sex, or inspire enthusi- 
 asm in the other. From his cradle he had been destined for 
 the court : his father. Sir Henry Wiatt, descended from an an- 
 cient Kentish family, having filled with reputation several depart- 
 ments in the royal household, easily obtained for his son the 
 appointment of gentleman of the privy chamber ; but the young 
 poet was formed for better things. Born on the banks of the 
 Medway, he had spent his early childhood at Allington Castle, 
 amidst such romantic scenery, as, when nature has given sensi- 
 bility, affords healthful nourishment to the poetical character. 
 His education was not only suited to his station, but happily 
 calculated to elicit his talents. In devouring the classical pages 
 of Grreece and Rome, he imbibed the spirit, he received the va- 
 ticidal inspiration which is only to be communicated or received 
 by kindred genius. His first efforts were made in Latin verse; 
 but observing that France and Italy possessed living poets, and 
 
 1 
 
CHIVALRIC ADMIRATION. 163 
 
 a national lay, he patriotically resolved to dedicate his pen to 
 the restoration of nglish literature, and to devote his ambition 
 to the honour of his country. 
 
 Wiatt is first mentioned by the court-chroniclers in 1525, 
 when he was promoted, with William Carey, already mentioned, 
 to the rank of gentleman of the privy chamber ; and, according 
 to the custom of the day, exhibited his prowess and his gallantry 
 in a tourney and a masque, with which the King was well satis- 
 fied. At this spectacle, Anne Boleyn appears not to have been 
 present ', and as Wiatt notoriously held in contempt these puerile 
 entertainments,* he was, perhaps, little disposed to relish his 
 official duties, till they were soothed and enlivened by her pre- 
 sence. At what precise time they became acquainted is not 
 known ; but he has recorded in a short poem the impressions 
 which he received, and accompanied his description of her coun- 
 tenance with an intimation that he would fain be at liberty to 
 bind himself to her for ever.f 
 
 Unfortunately, by the care of a provident father, the poet had 
 been tied to the daughter of Lord Cobham, at an age when he 
 could neither form a rational choice, nor hope to inspire a last- 
 ing attachment ; but this circumstance precluded not his address- 
 
 * Wiatt, being once pressed by Henry to appear at a masque, replied, 
 ** Truly a man is not so "wise by day, that he should play the fool at 
 night." 
 
 f " The knight, in the beginning, coming to behold the sudden ap- 
 pearance of this new bewtie, came to be holden and surprised some- 
 what with the sight thereof. After much more, with her graceful and 
 wittie speeches, his eare also had been chained to her, so as finally his 
 heart seemed to say, ' I could gladly yield to be tied for ever with the 
 knot of her love,' as somewhere in his verses he has been thought to 
 express." — See the Life of Queen Anne Bolen. 
 
164 WIATT'S ATTENTIONS. 
 
 ing another lady in the language of Platonic love. There were 
 few yonng beauties who were not, or who sought not to be, the 
 objects of a fictitious passion, often assumed from motives of 
 vanity, or policy, according to the worldly situation of the re- 
 spective parties. Under the fanciful names of Mistress and 
 Servant, ample license was allowed to breathe sentiments of a 
 more tender nature : nor, by this, so long as the female party 
 should remain unmarried, was the least injury offered to her 
 reputation. Till that period, it was her undoubted privilege, 
 like Chaucer's j3Emilia, to tolerate the adoration of contending 
 knights, and accept the oblations of unnumbered suitors ; to listen 
 to vows she was expected to contemn ; to accept of gifts not to 
 be repaid ; to authorize efforts and sacrifices never to be requited ; 
 ■■ — all this was permitted to a beauty, without attaint or blemish 
 to her maiden fame : but if she once allowed herself to depart 
 from the passive system that custom prescribed to her sex, — if 
 she suffered her champion to wear in public some token of her 
 special favour, as a riband, a glove, or any other memorial 
 of tender attachment, — from that moment her discretion was 
 compromised, her character impeached; such concessions being 
 authorized only when the suitor was an honourable lover, to 
 whom she was eventually to pledge her faith at the hymeneal 
 altar. 
 
 Accustomed from infancy to the language of adulation, Anne 
 Boleyn was not disposed, even for such a man as Wiatt, to out- 
 step the limits of female decorum. She could not, however, be 
 displeased to see herself distinguished by one of the most at- 
 tractive and accomplished men of the age; and was, perhaps, 
 rather tempted to invite than to reject his flattering attentions. 
 Proud of the songs she inspired, she might, perhaps, have sym- 
 
WIATT A PEOTESTANT. 165 
 
 pathized in the feelings they expressed, had not discretion found 
 an auxiliary in pride, and ambition fortified those sentiments of 
 honour which she unquestionably possessed. But we are told 
 that " though she rejected all his speach of love, it was in such 
 a sort as whatsoever tended to regard of her honour, she shewed 
 not to scorn. For the general favor and good will she perceived 
 al men to bear him, which might the rather occasion others to 
 turn their looks to that in her, which a man of his worth was 
 wrought to gaze at/'* 
 
 It was impossible but that the society of such a man as Wiatt 
 should have essentially contributed to the developement of her 
 talents and taste ; and it was from him, probably, rather than 
 the Queen of Navarre, that she imbibed her partiality for the 
 .lew opinions. It cannot be said that Wiatt was the partisan of 
 Luther : his opinions were rather derived from Wickliffe, and 
 the elder reformers, who had detected the corruptions, and resist- 
 ed the usurpations of the Romish hierarchy. Without investi- 
 gating the subject as a theologian, Wiatt had an intuitive con- 
 viction, that infallibility could not reside in any individual, or 
 assembly of individuals, and that the enormous prerogatives 
 which under these pretensions had been assumed and exercised, 
 were founded on superstition and usurpation. To his acute dis- 
 cernment no argument could be necessary to enforce the convic- 
 tion, that the influence of an unmarried body of clergy, an order 
 of men bound to society by none of its domestic charities and 
 affections, was inimical to the morals and happiness of the com- 
 munity. As an Englishman, he indignantly disclaimed that 
 allegiance to any foreign potentate implied in the rights of papal 
 supremacy, and which he held to be subversive of national 
 
 * Wiatt's Queen Anne Bolen. 
 
166 WIATT AND WOLSEY. 
 
 dignity and independence. Tlius the heresy of Wiatt originated 
 in patriotism; and he gloried in resisting the Pope^ and in pro- 
 claiming the freedom of his country. 
 
 Against Wolsey^ as the gigantic Atlas that upheld the pon- 
 derous fabric of ecclesiastical power, he cherished an acrimony 
 of feeling (strikingly contrasted with the amenity of his general 
 character*) which, perhaps, conspired with his fine qualities to 
 make a favourable impression on Anne Boleyn. Of all who 
 approached her, Wiatt appears to have been most worthy to win 
 her confidence ; though a poet and a courtier, he despised the 
 arts of flattery, and the sinister meanness of adulation. Many 
 of his witticisms have been transmitted to us ; but amongst them 
 we find not a single compliment addressed to his lady or his 
 sovereign. The independence and originality of his mind, com- 
 municated to his sentiments an energy almost irresistible ; and 
 whether he conversed with the youthful Earl of Surrey, with 
 the accomplished George Boleyn, or with his beloved sister, he 
 was to each and to all a monitor, a guardian, and a dictator. In 
 the progress of their romantic intimacy, the professed serva7it 
 appears to have insensibly become the real friend ; and thus an 
 intercourse originating in frivolous gallantry was exalted into an 
 honourable and faithful attachment. 
 
 In the mean while, Henry, no indifierent observer of Anne 
 Boleyn' s movements, shortly after her return to court had taken 
 an opportunity to present to her a valuable jewel, which was 
 
 ^ Such was Wiatt's 'beiievolence, that he delighted to recommend 
 another to notice and favour ; and so many were indebted to his good 
 of&ces with the King, that, on occasion of any sudden preferment, it 
 became the current saying, <' that such-an-one had been in Sir Thomas 
 Wiatt's closet." 
 
HENRY'S GALLANTRY. 167 
 
 accepted and worn without reserve.* No impropriety was at- 
 tached to such attentions : on various occasions, it was even a 
 point of etiquette for the cavalier to offer gifts to the lady whom 
 he admired or celebrated, pro tempore, as his 'niistress.-\ Even 
 the repetition of such favours was not alarming to virgin modesty; 
 and whether Anne divined or mistook the King's purpose, she 
 affected to be wholly free from suspicion. But when, encouraged 
 by this forbearance, Henry ventured on an undisguised avowal 
 of his passion, she replied with scorn, in the words of Lady Eli- 
 zabeth Gi-rey, that " she was too good to be a King's mistress."^ 
 Apologies and concessions followed; and, finally, the haughty 
 Henry was content to enter the list with Wiatt and other obse- 
 quious admirers, as her cavalier and servant. The following 
 minute detail of these Platonic rivals offers a curious picture of 
 polite society at the commencement of the sixteenth century. § 
 
 * Sanders, Heylin, &c. 
 
 f This custom long continued to be prevalent during certain public 
 festivals. In the time of Cromwell, Whitelock, after the manner of an 
 English cavalier with his mistress, gave a treat to Queen Christina of 
 Sweden, on May-day. 
 
 X Anne's rejection of the King's (first dishonourable) overture is 
 mentioned both by her advocate Heylin, and her calumniator Sanders. 
 
 g Nothing like precision or accuracy is attempted in the traditional 
 little work, from which this passage is extracted. But the anecdotes 
 it contains appear to have been originally furnished by Sir Thomas 
 Wiatt and his contemporaries. In the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, they were collected by one of his descendants, but without the 
 least attention to chronological arrangement. It is therefore impos- 
 sible to ascertain at what period the King presented the ring to Anne 
 Boleyn ; a ceremony which, had it been performed before witnesses, 
 would have been equivalent to a formal betrothment. It will, however, 
 
168 WIATT'S ATTENTIONS. 
 
 " About this time, it is said, that the knight (Wiatt) enter- 
 tanynge talk with her, as she was earnest at work, and sport- 
 ingewise caught from her a certin small jewel, hanginge by a 
 lace out of her pocket, or otherwise loose, which he thrust into 
 his bosom ; neither with any earnest request could she obtain it 
 from him againe ; he kept it, therefore, and wore it after about 
 his neck under his cassoque, promising to himself either to have 
 it with her favor, or as an occasion to have talk with her, wherin 
 he had singular delight ; and she after seemed not to make much 
 recconinge of it, either the thinge not beinge much worth, or 
 not woorth much strivinge for. The noble prince having a 
 watchful eie upon the knight, noting him more to hover about 
 the lady, and she more to keepe aloof of him, was whetted the 
 more to discover to her his affection, so as rather, he liked first 
 to try, of what temper the regard of her honor was, which he 
 finding not any way to be tainted with those things his kingly 
 majestic and means could bringe to the batterie, he in the end 
 fell to win her by treaty of marriage ; and in this talk took from 
 her a ring, and that ware upon his littel finger ; and yet al this 
 with such a secresie was carried, and on her part so wisely, as 
 none, or verie few, esteemed this other than an ordinarie cours 
 of dalliance. Within few daise after, it happened that the king, 
 sporting himself at bowles, had in his company, as it falls out, 
 divers noblemen and other courtiers of account ; amongst whom 
 
 be found, that tlie statement of Wiatt is confirmed by the testimony 
 even of those foreign and English writers who have most laboured to 
 traduce her reputation ; and it is remarkable that Bp. Burnet, to whom 
 he appears to have been personally known, in his History of the Ee- 
 formation refers to this identical manuscript, and in his refutation of 
 Sanders quotes his authority. 
 
THE RING. 169 
 
 might be the Duke of Suffolk, Sir F. Brian, and Sir T. Wyatt ; 
 himself being more than ordinarie pleasantly disposed, and in 
 his game takinge an occasion to affirm a cast to be his, that 
 plainly appeared to be otherwise ; those on the other side sayed, 
 with his grace^s leave they thought not ; and yet stil he, point- 
 inge with his finger whereon he ware her ringe, replied often, it 
 was his, especially to the knight, he said, ' Wyat, I tel thee, it 
 is mine J smiling upon him withal. Sir Thomas, at the lengthe, 
 casting his eye upon the king's finger, perceived that the king 
 ment the lady, whose ring that was which he wel knew, and 
 paused a littel ; and finding the kinge bent to pleasure, after the 
 words repeated again by the kinge, the knight replied, and if it 
 may like your majestic to give me leave to measure it, I hope it 
 will be nmiCj and withal took from his neck the lase, whereat 
 hung the tablet, and therewith stooped to measure the caste, 
 which the king espiinge knew, and had seen her wear; and withal 
 sporned away the bowle, and said, ^ It may be so ; but then I 
 am deceived,' and so broke up the game. This thing, thus 
 carried, was not perceived of many, but of some few it was. 
 Now the king resortinge to his chamber, shewing some resent- 
 ment in his countenance, found means to break this matter to 
 the lady, who with good and evident proofe how the knight came 
 by the jewel, satisfied the king so effectually, that this more 
 confirmed the king's opinion of her truth and virtue, than him- 
 self at the first could have expected."* 
 
 * On the circumstance related in this anecdote appears to have been 
 founded the ridiculous story, quoted from Sanders, by several French 
 and Spanish writers, and repeated by Davanzati in his Schisma d'ln- 
 ghilterra; in which it is pretended, that Wiatt confessed to King Henry, 
 that he had carried on a criminal intrigue with Anne Boleyn. It is 
 
 15 
 
170 HENRY'S LETTERS. 
 
 The ccarespondence of Henry with Anne Boleyn enables us 
 more distinctly to trace the progress of their courtship. The 
 three following letters appear to have been written in an initial 
 stage of the connection^ almost before Henry had shaped to him- 
 self a definite object^ or Anne thought it prudent to confide in 
 his unqualified professions of attachment."^ 
 
 Letter I. 
 
 {Translated from the French.)^ 
 My mistress and friend ; — I and my heart put ourselves into 
 your handS; begging you to recommend us to your favour, and 
 not to let absence lessen your alfection to us. For it were 
 
 often the fate of calumny to confute itself: had Wiatt ever made this 
 impudent ayowal, it is impossible that Henry should have allowed him 
 to remain at court ; where, however, he continued in great favour, long 
 after Anne's coronation. 
 
 '-^ By the agency of some treacherous domestic, these letters were 
 stolen from Anne Boleyn's cabinet, and conveyed to the Vatican at 
 Rome ; where they were detected by Bp. Burnet, who procured a copy, 
 ^afterwards published in the Harleian Miscellany, the editor of which, 
 in attempting to fix the precise period at which they were written, falls 
 into the mistake of Burnet, in assuming as a fact, that Anne Boleyn 
 came not into England until the year 1527 ; and that these letters were 
 all written in 1528. Without reiterating the arguments already ad- 
 duced to prove that Anne must have come to England many years sooner, 
 it is easy to discover, that the letters were not written consecutively, 
 but at different intervals, and on various occasions. In the four which 
 are here introduced, no allusion is made to the legate, so often men- 
 tioned in the others ; whence it may fairly be presumed, that they were 
 antecedent to the negotiation respecting the divorce. 
 
 f See the original French at the end of the volume. 
 
HENRY'S LETTERS. 171 
 
 great pity to increase our pain, which absence alone docs suffi- 
 ciently, and more than ever I could have thought ; bringing to 
 my mind a point of astronomy, which is, that the farther the 
 Mores* are from us, the farther too is the sun, and yet his heat 
 is the more scorching : so it is with our love ; we are at a dis- 
 tance from one another, and yet it keeps its fervency, at least on 
 my side. I hope the like on your part, assuring you, that the 
 uneasiness of absence is already tpo severe for me ; and when I 
 think of the continuance of that, which I must of necessity suf- 
 fer, it would seem intolerable to me, were it not for the firm 
 hope I have of your unchangeable affection for me ; and now, to 
 put you sometimes in mind of it, and seeing I cannot be present 
 in person with you, I send you the nearest thing to that possible, 
 that is, my picture set in bracelets, with the whole device, whic-h 
 you know already, wishing myself in their place, when it shall 
 please you. This from the hand of 
 
 Your servant and friend, 
 
 H. Rex. 
 
 Letter II. 
 To my mistress j 
 
 Because the time seems to me very long, since I have heard 
 
 from you, or concerning your health • the great affection I have 
 
 for you has obliged me to send this bearer to be better informed, 
 
 both of your health and pleasure, particularly, because, since my 
 
 * The inexplicability of this passage ought perhaps to be attributed 
 to some blander in the transcriber ; since Henry, though often pedan- 
 tic, is on other occasions perfectly intelligible. The original letters in 
 Henry's own hand are still extant in the Vatican, to which they were 
 restored after the re-establishment of the Bourbons in France. 
 
172 HENRY'S LETTERS. 
 
 last parting with you, I have been told, that you have entirely 
 changed the opinion in which I left you, and that you would 
 neither come to court with your mother, nor any other way; 
 which report, if true, I cannot enough wonder at, being persuaded 
 in my own mind, that I have never committed any offence against 
 you ; and it seems a very small return for the great love I bear 
 you, to be kept at a distance from the person and presence of the 
 woman in the world that I value the most; and, if yo<a love me 
 with as much affection as I hope you do, I am sure, the distance 
 of our two persons would be a little uneasy to you. Though 
 this does not belong so much to the mistress as the servant, 
 consider well, my mistress, how greatly your absence grieves me ; 
 I hope it is not your will that it should be so; but, if I heard 
 for certain, that you yourself desired it, I could do no other 
 than complain of my ill fortune, and by degrees abate my great 
 folly ; and so, for want of time, I make an end of my rude 
 letter, desiring you to give credit to this bearer in all he will 
 tell you from me. Written by the hand of your entire servant. 
 
 Letter III. 
 
 By turning over in my thoughts the contents of your last 
 letters, I have put myself into a great agony, not knowing how 
 to understand them, whether to my disadvantage, as I under- 
 stand some others, or not : I beseech you now, with the greatest 
 earnestness, to let me know your whole intention, as to the love 
 between us two. For I must of necessity obtain this answer of 
 you, having been above a whole year struck with the dart of 
 love, and not yet sure whether I shall fail, or find a place in 
 your heart and affection. This uncertainty has hindered me of 
 
HENRY'S LETTERS. 173 
 
 late from naming you my mistress, since you only love me with 
 an ordinary affection ; but if you please to do the duty of a true 
 and loyal mistress, and to give up yourself, body and heart, to 
 me, who will be, as I have been, your most loyal servant (if 
 your rigour does not forbid me), I promise you that not only the 
 name shall be given you, but also that I will take you for my 
 mistress, casting off all others that are in competition with you, 
 out of my thoughts and affection, and serving you only. I beg 
 you to give an entire answer to this my rude letter, that I may 
 know on what and how far I may depend. But, if it does not 
 please you to answer me in writing, let me know some place 
 where I may have it by word of mouth, and I will go thither 
 with all my heart. No more, for fear of tiring you. Written by 
 the hand of him, who would willingly remain yours, 
 
 H. Rex. 
 
 Letter IV. 
 To the same. 
 For a present so valuable, that nothing could be more (con- 
 sidering the whole of it), I return you my most hearty thanks, 
 not only on account of the costly diamond, and the ship in which 
 the solitary damsel is tossed about ; but chiefly for the fine in- 
 terpretation and too humble submission which your goodness 
 hath made to me. For I think it would be very difficult for me 
 to find an occasion to deserve it, if I was not assisted by your 
 great humanity and favour, which I have sought, do seek, and 
 will always seek to preserve by all the services in my power, 
 and this is my firm intention and hope, according to the motto, 
 aut illic ant iniUihi (either here or nowhere). The demonstra- 
 15* 
 
174 ANNE'S PRUDENCE. 
 
 tions of your affections are sucli^ the fine thougLts of your letter 
 so cordially expressed, that they oblige me for ever to honour, 
 love, and serve you sincerely, beseeching you to continue in the 
 same firm and constant purpose ; and assuring you, that, on my 
 part, I will not only make you a suitable return, but outdo you 
 in loyalty of heart, if it be possible. I desire you also, that, if 
 at any time before this I have in any sort offended you, you 
 would give me the same absolution that you ask, assuring you, 
 that hereafter my heart shall be dedicated to you alone. I wish 
 my body was so too : God can do it, if he pleases, to whom I 
 pray once a day for that end, hoping that at length my 
 prayers will be heard. I wish the time may be short ; but I 
 shall think it long till we shall see one another. Written by 
 the hand of the secretary, who, in heart, body, and will, is 
 
 Your loyal. 
 
 And most assured servant. 
 
 From these letters it is evident that Henry not only loved but 
 esteemed his mistress. Impressed with admiration and respect 
 for her mental endowments, he displays all his wit and learning, 
 conscious that he is addressing one by whom they will be duly 
 appreciated. In the course of this correspondence, Henry is said 
 to have declared hig intentions to the lady's father, "to whom,^' 
 adds the biographer, " we may be assured, the newes was not a 
 littel joyful.'^ By Anne herself, however, if we may credit his 
 assertion, the persuasion was admitted with reluctance : " She 
 stood stil upon her guard, and was not, as we would suppose, so 
 easily taken with al this apparance of happines : whereof two 
 things appeared to be the causes ; the one the love she bare ever 
 to the Queen, whom she served, that was also a personage of 
 
ANNE'S PRUDENCE. 175 
 
 greate virtue; the other, her conceit, that ther was not that free- 
 dom of conjunction with one that was her lord and king, as 
 with one more agreeable to her.'' 
 
 Allowing for the exaggerations of an encomiast, it is impossi- 
 ble to withhold from Anne Boleyn the praise of consummate pru- 
 dence and discretion. By her father, she had probably been 
 apprised of the rumour already prevailing on 'the continent, that 
 Henry intended to solicit the Pope for a divorce, on the plea of 
 having contracted an illegal marriage : if this were true, Anne 
 might with plausibility aspire to the throne ; if it were false, she 
 should at least preserve her self-respect, and escape the contempt 
 invariably attached to frailty. A high sense of moral and re- 
 ligious duty might have impelled her to reject the boon, that 
 must be purchased by invading another's right, — to renounce an 
 honour never to be obtained without ingratitude and injustice. 
 But it should be remembered, that the character of Anne was 
 not formed on the pure simplicity of gospel precepts; nor had 
 she learnt, like the daughters of a Cooke or a More, to place her 
 happiness in intellectual pursuits, and the endearments of do- 
 mestic aifection. Images of splendour and greatness were the 
 objects first presented to her infant eyes; and it was one of the 
 earliest lessons imprinted on her mind, that they could scarcely 
 be obtained at too dear a price. 
 
 In that age of mingled profligacy and superstition, the beauties 
 of the court seldom escaped reproach.* Anne aspired to the 
 praise of unblemished chastity, and in this distinction, with rea- 
 son, triumphed. If she identified pride with dignity, or mistook 
 the impulses of vanity and ambition for the aspirations of piety 
 
 * The injured Duchess of Norfolk, in complaining of her husband's 
 cruelty and infidelity, observes, that she had lived fifteen years at court, 
 and, in all that time, preserved her reputation. 
 
176 CATHERINE'S FORBEARANCE. 
 
 and virtue, slie had unhappily the whole corps of English nobi 
 lity to sanction and confirm the delusion ; and candour demands 
 that her actions be judged according to the same moral standard, 
 by which praise or blame is measured to her rivals and contem- 
 poraries. 
 
 It was not long before Catherine perceived the secret intelli- 
 gence between her husband and her attendant, whom she often 
 challenged to play with her at cards, in the royal presence ; will- 
 ing, as was supposed,* to give the enamoured Prince an oppor- 
 tunity of contemplating the supplemental nail, which, to her 
 prejudiced eyes, appeared an ominous deformity. On one of 
 these occasions, Catherine, by a sort of caustic pleasantry, allu- 
 ded to their mutual situation. In the game at which she was 
 playing with Anne Boleyn, it was a rule, in dealing the cards, 
 to stop on turning up the king or queen : it happened that the 
 maid of honour stopped more than once on producing the king, 
 which Catherine remarking, exclaimed, ^^ My Lady Anne, you 
 have good luck to stop at a king : but you are not like others ; 
 you will have all or none.^^* In general, the Queen treated her 
 with the utmost courtesy and respect; partly, as she afterwards 
 acknowledged, because she was determined, by her forbearing 
 gentleness, to deprive Henry of every pretext for complaint, and 
 partly because she hoped by complaisance to retain some little 
 hold on his affections. In reality, her mild submission appears 
 for a considerable time to have disarmed the violence of Henry's 
 impetuous temper; and, but for some peculiar circumstances, 
 might, perhaps, have obtained the victory, even over a feeling 
 ardent as that inspired by Anne Boleyn. 
 
 It is well known, that the strong and unchangeable passion 
 
 * Wiatt, 
 
 1 
 
THE POPE'S BULL. 177 
 
 of Henry's soul was to transmit the crown to his immediate 
 posterity. From childhood, he had bestowed gratuitous hatred, 
 on all who approached the verge of a disputable succession. As 
 his despotism increased, his suspicions redoubled : even the feeble 
 claims of Buckingham had aroused his jealous vengeance; and 
 in this view Yorkists and Lancastrians became equally the objects 
 of his abhorrence. Sensible that a female must carry the suc- 
 cession into another family, he had long passionately desired a 
 male heir, through whom the su]3remacy of the Tudor line might 
 be triumphantly perpetuated, and whose claim should silence 
 competition, and compel allegiance. Unused to constraint or 
 opposition, he contemplated with fretful impatience the reiterated 
 disappointment of his favourite object : and since the blessing he 
 asked in vain was denied to no other prince in Europe, he began 
 to regard, with superstitious aversion, the consort from whom he 
 no longer hoped to obtain its accomplishment. 
 
 The state of his feelings had been long since divulged to 
 Wolsey, who, guessing his aim, in 1524, published, by virtue 
 of his legatine mandate, the Pope's Bull against marriages con- 
 tracted within forbidden degrees. Whether Henry's secret 
 solicitude was in some degree appeased by this preliminary step 
 towards the recovery of his liberty, or whether his alliance with 
 Charles convinced him of the impossibility of dissolving his 
 union with Catherine, it appears, that he never explicitly avowed 
 his determination till he had conceived a serious passion for 
 Anne Boleyn.* 
 
 Originally it had formed no part of Henry's plan, to raise a 
 private gentlewoman to the throne : and he had almost as strong 
 an impediment to combat in his own pride, as in the constancy 
 
 * See Cavendish. 
 
178 LAW OF DIVORCE. 
 
 of his mistress; but no sooner had love prevailed, than even 
 pride conspired with native obstinacy to promote the interests 
 of his passion ; and having once pledged his word, he resolved 
 to hold it sacred, even though he should hazard by it the loss of 
 his kingdom. To make this promise was easy ; but it required 
 all the vehemence of the lover, all the inflexibility of the tyrant, 
 to surmount the obstacles that opposed its fulfilment. Hitherto, 
 indeed, the court of Rome had offered to princes a commodious 
 relief for the evils of an ill-assorted marriage, since, in the com- 
 plexity of the Ecclesiastical Canons, some pretext of consangui- 
 nity, or plausible irregularity, was easily discovered, for redressing 
 the grievance. It imported little to the admission of such claims 
 that they were founded in equity or truth. Within Henry's own 
 existence, the Romish tribunal had authorized Louis the Twelfth 
 of France to repudiate a blameless wife, that he might espouse 
 the heiress of Brittany. More recently, Henry's own sister, 
 Margaret, had obtained a divorce from the Earl of Angus, on 
 the plea of prior contract : she had since espoused Lord Stewart, 
 and was again a suitor for the abrogation of her nuptial vows. 
 
 Unfortunately for Henry, the unimpeachable conduct of Ca- 
 therine left him no alternative but to rest his plea on the cano- 
 nical prohibition against marrying a brother's widow. More 
 unfortunately still, that objection had been previously obviated 
 by a papal bull of dispensation, especially granted for the mar- 
 riage with Catherine, and consequently he had no better resource 
 than to impugn the authority of one Pope, at the very moment 
 he was soliciting the assistance of another ; a strange solecism in 
 the Defender of the Faith, the avowed champion of the church 
 against the heretical innovations of Luther ! It was impossible 
 that Henry should entirely close his eyes to the complicated 
 
WOLSEY'S POLICY. 179 
 
 difficulties and impediments of his undertaking ; and even to 
 Wolsey he appears not to have communicated the ultimate object 
 of the enterprise^ but to have confined himself to the question 
 of divorce, without reference to Anne Boleyn. Whether the 
 cardinal was entirely the dupe of his artifice, must be left to 
 conjecture. To gratify his sovereign, he frequently gave enter- 
 tainments, at which the object of his affection was present,* and 
 where, alternately with her lute, her voice, and her exquisite 
 grace, she exerted all her powers of fascination, and intoxicated 
 his senses with delight. By his admiration, however ardent, 
 the cardinal was, perhaps, the less alarmed, from having pre- 
 viously witnessed similar attentions to Lady Talbois ; concluding 
 that, as in that instance, a dishonourable intrigue was to termi- 
 nate the connection. On some occasions, he had, perhaps, ob- 
 served in Anne Boleyn an air of coquetry and levity, which 
 impressed him with unjust suspicions of her real character; but 
 Wolsey was not present during those more private interviews, 
 when Henry saw his mistress in the bosom of her family, and 
 when, having gladly escaped from the court at Eltham or Green- 
 wich, he mounted his fleetest steed, and, accompanied by two or 
 three confidental attendants (among whom were Norris and 
 AVestonf), rode towards Hever. 
 
 ^ " The Cardinal espying the great zeal that the King had conceived 
 in this gentlewoman, ordered himself to please as well the King as 
 lier ; dissimuling the matter that lay hid in his breast, and prepared 
 great banquettes and high feastes to entertaine the King and her at 
 liis own house. And thus the world began to grow to wonderful inven- 
 tions, not heard of before in this realrae. Love betwixt the King and 
 this gorgeous lad}" grewe to such perfection, that divers imaginations 
 were imagined, whereof I leave here to speake." Cavendish's Life of 
 Wolsey. See Wordsworth's Edition. 
 
 f Afterwards beheaded. 
 
180 HENRY'S COURTSHIP. 
 
 Tradition still points to the hill in front of the castle, where 
 the well known bugle announced the King's approach, and his 
 impatience to be admitted to the beloved presence. At this 
 welcome signal, the drawbridge lowered, the gates were thrown 
 open, and Henry found all his constraint and trouble overpaid 
 by a single glance exchanged with Anne Boleyn. In these 
 happier moments, when, dismissing the tyrant and the sovereign, 
 he was surprised sometimes into feelings of tenderness and be- 
 nevolence, with what horror would he have recoiled from the 
 awful visions of futurity ! with what indignation rejected the 
 prophecy, that he should hereafter destroy the woman whom he 
 then adored, — that he should listen impatiently for the gun which 
 was to proclaim the stroke of death, and look with eagerness for 
 the fatal flag, which was to assure him she breathed no more !* 
 
 ^' There is a tradition, that the King went from Richmond to a spot 
 where he could hear the gnns, and discern the black flag, that an- 
 nounced Anne Boleyn's execution. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT OF THE PROCESS OF DIVORCE. 
 
 Wolsey's State — His Disappointment — Battle of Pavia — Dr. Pace — Wol- 
 sey's Intrigues — Siege of Rome — Negotiations -with Francis I. — Wol- 
 sey's Mission to France — His Return — Opinions of the Bishops — 
 Anne hated by Wolsey — Her Protestantism — Her Letter to Wolsey — 
 Reasons for Anne's Conduct — Her good qualities — Wiatt's Poems — 
 Henry Howard — George Boleyn — Embassy from France — Banquet — 
 The King's Tent — His Treat — Almoner Fox — Gardiner — Henry's 
 Letter — Cardinal Campeggio — Henry's Duplicity — His Scruples — 
 Relations of Catherine and Anne — Catherine's Popularity — The 
 Sweating Sickness — Sir William Carey — Sickness of Anne — Her 
 Recovery — Discontent of the People — Anne leaves the Court — Posi- 
 tion of Henry — Henry's Letters to Anne — Cardinal Campeggio's 
 Negotiations — Hlness of the Pope — The Consistorial Court — Pathe- 
 tic Address of Catherine — She denies the jurisdiction and quits the 
 Court. 
 
 During a long scries of years, Cardinal Wolsey bad been tlie 
 envied favourite of fortune, contending witb monarcbs in power, 
 and surpassing tbem in magnificence. 
 
 Tbe establisbment of bis bousehold was truly regal;* and 
 
 * Three tables were served in his hall within the palace. In his 
 kitchen presided a master-cook, habited in a suit of velvet or satin, and 
 decorated with a chain of gold : a superfluous population of yeomen and 
 grooms swarmed in each department, having under them a troop of 
 menials, by whom its duties were effectively executed. The chapel 
 was served with a dean, and forty persons of various denominations. 
 Eight hundred individuals are said to have been in his household. 
 
 16 (181) 
 
182 WOLSEY'S STATE. 
 
 wlienever he left his palace, it was with the air of a conqueror 
 who demanded a triumph. During term-time, his daily progress 
 to Westminster Hall was watched and hailed like the pageant 
 of a public festival. Habited in crimson robes, with a tippet of 
 black sables about his neck, he mounted, with a semblance of 
 apostolical humility, a mule trapped in crimson velvet. Before 
 him were borne in state the symbols of his authority : — ^first was 
 displayed the broad seal of England ; the cardinal's hat was then 
 exhibited ; two red crosses next attracted the eye ; and beyond 
 marched two pillar-bearers in solemn state ;* on either side rode 
 nobles and gentlemen; whilst four footmen preceded the cardi- 
 nal's mule, each presenting the gilt poleaxe, the ensign of justice, 
 to the awe-stricken spectator. Wherever the sublime Legate 
 approached, he was greeted with spontaneous obeisance; "On, 
 on, my masters!" was vociferated from every quarter: '^E.oom 
 for the Cardinal ! make way for my Lord Cardinal I" On alight- 
 ing at the Hall, he was surrounded by numerous suitors, to whom 
 he assumed an air of courtesy, rather condescending than gra- 
 cious ; and it was observed that he often applied to his r.ostrils 
 
 ^ TMs procession is ttus described by Skelton : — 
 
 With worldly pomp incredible, 
 Before Mm rideth two prestes stronge, 
 And tliey bear two crosses rigbt longe, 
 
 Gapynge in every man's face : 
 After tliem follow two laymen secular, 
 And eache of tbem holdinge a pillar, 
 
 In tbeir handes stead of a mace. 
 Then foUoweth my lord on his mule, 
 
 Trapped with gold. 
 Then hath he servants five or six score, 
 Some behind and some before. 
 
HIS DISAPPOINTMENT. 183 
 
 a hollow orauge^ filled with sponge steeped in aromatics and 
 vinegar^ avowedly to protect himself from contagion. Owing to 
 a defect of sight, his looks seemed averted from the misery 
 which sometimes reached his ear without touchinc; his heart. 
 Such was Wolsey, the butcher's son, — the Boy Bachelor of Mag- 
 dalen College, — the adventurer of Calais ! Every morning wit- 
 nessed the renewal of these honours, and every night he retired 
 to rest, fatigued, if not satisfied, with the incense of adulation. 
 
 Under this flattering exterior of felicity, a secret discontent 
 corroded the cardinal's breast; and all the j^rosperity of his 
 former life, perhaps, scarcely counterbalanced the mortification 
 he experienced, when to Adrian succeeded Julius de' Medici in 
 the papacy ; an event which at once disclosed to him the Em- 
 peror's ingratitude, and his own credulous facility. To aggra- 
 vate his chagrin, fortune continued to smile on Charles, who 
 triumphed by the very means he had used to arrest his progress, 
 and obscure his glory. 
 
 By an article of the treaty contracted between Charles and 
 Henry, it was stipulated that the latter should furnish a monthly 
 subsidy to the Duke of Bourbon, who commanded the imperial 
 troops in Italy, and depended on this supply for their subsistence. 
 At the end of the first campaign (in 1524), Wolsey, who had 
 already entered into a secret correspondence with an agent in the 
 interest of France, recalled the English troops, and privately 
 withheld the money so anxiously expected. 
 
 In this emergency the Duke of Bourbon, with the courage of 
 desperation, attacked the French army, and obtained the cele- 
 brated victory of Pavia, in which Francis " lost all but life and 
 honour." It was, perhaps, not the least galling of Wolsey's 
 chagrins, that he had publicly to celebrate mass in honour of a 
 
184 DR. PACE. 
 
 monarcli wlio repaid liis services with unkindness and contempt. 
 Fortunately for the cardinal, Henry, who piqued himself on 
 preserving the equilibrium of power, hecame alarmed at the pro- 
 gress of his ally, and readily agreed to enter into clandestine 
 engagements with the Regent Louisa, to effect the liberation of 
 her son, and to preserve untouched the integrity of the French 
 empire. 
 
 It is a melancholy reflection, that, in civilized as in barbarous 
 nations, the most unoffending or meritorious individuals are often 
 the victims immolated to the insatiable spirit of conquest, or the 
 calculations of sordid policy. Of this truth, one of the best 
 scholars of the age, Dr. Richard Pace (the meritorious successor 
 to Dean Colet, at St. Paul's), was destined to become the unfor- 
 tunate example. Eminently distinguished by that elegance and 
 delicacy of taste which seem in unison with correct moral feel- 
 ing, he had attracted Henry's notice by the purity and eloquence 
 of his Latin compositions ; and was frequently employed by him 
 as a diplomatic agent in G-ermany and Italy. Seduced by the 
 blandishments of royal favour, this almost ascetic recluse, to 
 whom a library was in reality dearer than a kingdom, suffered 
 himself to be drawn into the snares of Wolsey's tortuous policy, 
 and undertook to remit the subsidy to the imperial commission 
 at Venice. Unpractised in duplicity, he was wholly unsuspicious 
 of dishonourable conduct ; and, attributing to accident alone the 
 suspension of the monthly stipend, actually raised, on his own 
 credit, a considerable sum, though totally inadequate to the 
 demand of the imperial agents. It was in vain he reiterated his 
 importunities for money ; and he became at length convinced 
 that application was as hopeless as unavailing: but the dis- 
 covery came too late to indemnify him either in fortune or repu- 
 
ATTACK ON ROME. 186 
 
 tation ; and such was his nice sense of honour and integrity, and 
 such his abhorrence of the transaction in which he had been in- 
 volved, that he suddenly withdrew from all society ; and, after 
 alternate paroxysms of melancholy and frenzy, expired in a 
 prison."*^ Such was the end of Pace, the companion of More 
 and Fisher, and whose classical and liberal pursuits had extract- 
 ed a tributary eulogium from Erasmus ! — one among many in- 
 stances, how ill fitted is the man of refined moral feelings to 
 coalesce with the great, or to struggle against power and in- 
 justice. 
 
 If the classical eminence of Pace had excited Wolsey's jea- 
 lousy, his misfortunes inspired, not commiseration, but contempt ; 
 there were however some circumstances resulting from the sup- 
 pression of the subsidy, which called forth the minister's regret. 
 In ransacking the French camp, the Duke of Bourbon had dis- 
 covered, not merely sketches of the cardinal's correspondence 
 with the Regent Louisa, but the draft of a secret convention be- 
 tween the Pope and the Venetians, to guaranty, in concert with 
 England and France, the independence of Italy. f To this de- 
 tection in 1525 has been attributed his subsequent attack on 
 Rome (in 1527J,) which was taken by storm, and exposed even 
 to greater outrage than it had in former ages sufi'ered from the 
 irruptions of the Goths or Vandals. Retreating to the Castle 
 
 * See Godwin's History of Henry tlie Eighth. The same circum- 
 stances are alluded to in Holinshed and Speed. It has been said that 
 he was committed to the Tower by Wolsey. 
 
 f Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. 
 
 J Pope Clement had also offended the Emperor, by absolving Fran- 
 cis from his late engagement. See Godwin's History of Henry the 
 Eighth ; also Holinshed. 
 14* 
 
186 NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRANCIS. 
 
 of St. Angelo, the Pope, perceiving no alternative Ibut to pur- 
 cliase his liberty by an enormous ransom, or submit to the most 
 ignominious treatment, sought relief from Henry, who eagerly 
 embraced the moment to open the long-meditated suit of divorce. 
 
 The secret whispers of princes are sometimes audible : and it 
 is a curious fact, that before Henry^s intention was surmised in 
 England, it had become the familiar topic of conversation in 
 G-ermany, where it was naturally considered as the forerunner 
 of his separation from the church of Rome. Under this persua- 
 sion, Luther published an apology for his former epistle, in which 
 he retracted the abuse he had lavished on Henry, by transferring 
 it to Wolsey, and heartily congratulated the King, on being at 
 length emancipated from the thrall of popery. To this ill-timed 
 epistle Henry, who was about to solicit the Pope's assistance, 
 and depended on the cardinal's co-operation, returned an ungra- 
 cious answer, vindicating his minister from the aspersions of the 
 Reformer, whose congratulations and compliments he disclaimed 
 with ineffable contempt. 
 
 It is well known how tedious was the imprisonment of Francis 
 in Spain, how ungenerous the treatment he received, and on what 
 hard terms he finally obtained his enlargement. Henry rejoiced 
 at his restoration, since he hoped by his aid to fortify himself 
 against the opposition which he foresaw must arise, on the Em- 
 peror's part, to his aunt's degradation. The necessities of Francis 
 furnished cogent motives for cultivating Henry's friendship. He 
 eagerly despatched an embassy to England, to propose a treaty 
 of marriage between his second son, Henry Duke of Orleans, 
 and the Princess Mary. During this negotiation, the Bishop of 
 Tarbes (who took an active part in the embassy), instigated by 
 Wolsey, or probably solicited by Lord Eochford, started a doubt 
 
WOLSEY'S MISSION. 187 
 
 respecting the legitimacy of the Princess, which was evidently 
 meant to convey an insinuation against the validity of her 
 mother's marriage. This first step was probably intended to 
 prepare the public for the discussions which were hereafter to 
 take place ; and to mature the plan, Wolsey once more visited 
 France with the most splendid suite ever attached to an embassy, 
 and was received by Francis with honours never before granted 
 to any subject.* At Amiens, he was met by the King, his 
 mother, and sister; when, more effectually to secure his master's 
 interest, he proposed his marriage with Renee, the sister-in-law 
 of Francis, afterwards united to the Duke of Ferrara ; a proof that 
 at this moment he did not regard Anne Boleyn as wholly invin- 
 cible. 
 
 The real drift of the cardinal's negotiations seemed involved 
 in almost anagrammatical perplexity. In public he proposed 
 the redemption of the Pope's liberty ; in private, he dwelt on 
 the possibility of detaching England for ever from Austria ; and 
 from this process of reasoning, the expediency of promoting the 
 divorce followed as a self-evident proposition. Whilst Wolsey 
 was thus employed at Amiens, the King's agents in Kome were 
 equally active, and Clement, who languished in captivity, and 
 depended on Henry to furnish money for his ransom, readily 
 promised compliance with his wishes, actually offering a bull of 
 dispensation, which he well knew must be invalid till he obtained 
 his iiberty.f Aware of this circumstance, Wolsey demanded 
 
 * This embassy is most delightfully described by Cavendish ; from 
 whom we learn, that in honour of Wolsey the prisons were thrown 
 open, and even the execution of prisoners suspended ; and, to crown 
 the whole, he was met by the Regent Louisa, and the Duchess of Alan- 
 9on, attended by a hundred young ladies, each riding a white palfrey. 
 
 f Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. De Carte's History. 
 
188 OPINION OF THE BISHOPS. 
 
 tlie appointment of vicar-generalj by which (armed with the 
 Pope's delegated authority) he could venture to dispense the in- 
 dulgence required : to this suggestion Clement dared not^ and 
 Francis sought not to oppose objections; and Wolsey, elate with 
 hope, returned to England, exulting in the success of his nego- 
 tiation, for which his sovereign requited him, not only with 
 smiles and thanks, but with what he would have gladly spared 
 — the disclosure of his engagement with Anne Boleyn.* To the 
 cardinal no communication could have been less acceptable; but 
 he had long since discovered, that opposition served only to 
 strengthen Henry's resolutions. He trusted therefore to time 
 and chance, to eifect some alteration in the purpose, to which he 
 apparently lent himself with dutiful alacrity ; and as a prelimi- 
 nary step convened the bishops, and most eminent divines, to 
 whom he propounded, on the ground of scriptural prohibitions, 
 the scruples of the King's conscience. "j" The result of this con- 
 ference was such as might have been expected ; the more obse- 
 quious cordially assenting, whilst the more rigid acquiesced in 
 silence : but they, with one exception, all subscribed the decla- 
 ration, that to marry a brother's widow was unlawful. It was 
 reserved for Fisher alone, the Bishop of London, the purity of 
 
 * See Cavendish, wlio expressly states the fact. 
 
 f It has been pretended hj Sanders, that Anne Boleyn engaged 
 divines devoted to her interests to act on the King's conscience. This 
 remark refutes itself, not only because it is palpable that his scruples 
 originated in his inclinations, but because he was too expert in theolo- 
 gical controversy to require such assistance, and had actually deter- 
 mined to rest his cause on a single passage in Leviticus. If Anne 
 Boleyn ever sent divines to Henry, it was at a subsequent period, when 
 he really entertained a scruple, or at least betrayed a repugnance, to 
 casting off the Pope's authority. 
 
ANNE'S PROTESTANTISM. 189 
 
 whose morals sanctified even his bigotry, and who evinced, with 
 the strictness of an ascetic, the heroism of a martyr, to maintain 
 a contrary opinion. 
 
 Dismayed by the success that crowned his appeal to the di- 
 vines, Wolsey obtained some relief from the intelligence, that, 
 whilst the imperialists were endeavouring to extort still harder 
 terms of ransom, the Pope had escaped from St. Angelo to 
 Orvieto, where he was more free to exercise his supreme prero- 
 gative. At the first glance the cardinal calculated the probabi- 
 lities contingent on this event; and whilst he recommended to 
 his secretary, and to the almoner. Fox, to redouble their diligence 
 and perseverance, he foresaw with satisfaction the impediments 
 likely to arise to the progress of their negotiation. 
 
 Of all women, Anne Boleyn was probably the last whom he 
 would have chosen to succeed Catherine. Independent of the 
 repugnance which so proud a man as Wolsey must naturally 
 have experienced in witnessing the elevation of one long regarded 
 as belonging to an inferior station, he could not but recollect the 
 hostility which, with the exception of her father, he had shown 
 to all her nearest relatives and connections, nor entirely dismiss 
 the suspicion that they would repay, with interest, the mortifica- 
 tions formerly inflicted by his pride or malevolence. But, per- 
 haps, a still more cogent motive for alienation existed in Anne's 
 supposed bias to Lutheranism, which to Wolsey, who cherished 
 for the Catholic church the most bigoted devotion, was a crime 
 of no common delinquency. 
 
 It is not indeed very likely, that this gay and beautiful 
 woman had entered deeply into polemical controversy; but she 
 was decidedly opposed to the severity of that penal inquisition 
 
190 ANNE'S LETTER TO WOLSEY. 
 
 establislied by the cardinal's legatine authority.* To the offence 
 of reading Tindall's heretical bookS; she added the more heinous 
 trespass of attempting to shield persecuted authors, and their un- 
 fortunate admirers, from obloquy and punishment.^ Not with- 
 out reason, therefore, did Wolsey deprecate Henry's union with 
 a woman as much disposed to protect the followers of Luther, 
 as her prototype, Anne of Bohemia, J had been to encourage the 
 disciples of Wicliffe. But whatever might be his real senti- 
 ments, he affected to take unremitted interest in her advance- 
 ment. On her part, Anne either was, or appeared to be, per- 
 fectly persuaded of his sincerity ; and, to judge by the following 
 letter, repaid his liberal professions with equally lively demon- 
 strations of cordiality and friendship. 
 
 ^^ My Lord ; 
 '•'' After my most humble commendations, this shall be to give 
 unto your Grrace, as I am most bound, my humble thanks for 
 the great pain and travell that your grace doth take in studying 
 
 ^>' By Yirtue of his legatine autliority, the cardinal had not only 
 engrossed to himself the prerogative formerly possessed by the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, of giving probates of wills, bnt instituted a 
 regular commission for the detection and punishment of heresy. To be 
 in possession of Tindall's Bible at that time constituted heresy. It 
 was in 1527, when Wolsey assumed the title of the Pope's vicar-gene- 
 ral, that he established a court at Westminster for the cognisance of 
 heretical pravity, and a court in York House for the probates of wills. 
 — See Fox. Strype's Memorials. Collier. 
 
 ^ Of this many instances are given by ecclesiastical writers. Her 
 kindness in this respect was so notorious, that authors used privately 
 to send their works for protection to Anne Boleyn. 
 
 % The wife of Richard the Second, under whose auspices the Bible 
 was translated into English. 
 
ANNE'S LETTER. 191 
 
 by your wisdom and great diligence how to bring to pass ho- 
 nourably the greatest wealth that is possible to come to any 
 creature living, and in especial, remembering how wretched and 
 unworthy I am in comparing to his highness ; and for you I do 
 know myself never to have deserved by my deserts that you 
 should take this great pain for me : yet daily of your goodness 
 I do perceive by all my friends; and though that I had not 
 knowledge by them, the daily proof of your deeds doth declare 
 your words and writing toward me to be true. Now, good my 
 Lord, your discretion may consider, as yet, how little it is in my 
 power to recompense you, but all only with my good will, the 
 which I assure you that, after this matter is brought to pass, 
 you shall find me as I am bound. In the mean time, to owe you 
 my service, and then look what thing in this world I can imagine 
 to do you pleasure in, you shall find me the gladdest woman in 
 the world to do it. And next unto the King's grace, of one 
 thing I make you full promise, to be assured to have it, and that 
 is my hearty love unfeignedly during my life. And being fully 
 determined, with God's grace, never to change this purpose, I 
 make an end of this my rude and true meaned letter, praying 
 our Lord to send you much increase of honour, with long life. 
 Written with the hand of her that beseeches your Grace to 
 accept this letter, as proceeding from one that is most bound to 
 
 be, 
 
 ^' Your humble and obedient servant, 
 
 "Anne Boleyn.'' 
 
 In reading this letter, we must either conclude that Anne 
 Boleyn had pardoned Wolsey's former oiFence, or that she was a 
 practised adept in duplicity ; a quality which in no other instance 
 she was ever found to possess, and for which she even appears 
 
192 REASONS FOR ANNE'S CONDUCT. 
 
 to have been incapacitated by the facility and even the impetuo 
 sity of her temper. It is unlikely that the woman, who in no 
 other instance evinced a vindictive character, should have che- 
 rished eternal hatred against Wolsey, for a disappointment in 
 which she must long since have discovered the basis of her 
 splendid fortune. It is, however, not improbable that she had 
 been disgusted by Wolsey's forwardness in promoting the King's 
 dishonourable addresses; and that, as the cardinal's personal 
 conduct was such as to preclude esteem, his professions might 
 naturally inspire distrust. In justice to Anne Eoleyn, it should 
 be remembered, that she had employed no artifice to obtain that 
 pre-eminence in the King's regard, for which she was now alter- 
 nately envied and flattered, hated and caressed. Compelled by 
 his preference to renounce a prior attachment, she had rejected 
 his passion with disdain, till it assumed the character of honour- 
 able love. Even after Henry approached her with a legitimate 
 object, she is said to have expressed repugnance to the idea of 
 supplanting her Queen, and of uniting her destiny to one so far 
 removed from her own station; but her scruples respecting 
 Catherine, if they ever existed, soon yielded to theological argu- 
 ments against the marriage, or political reasons in favour of the 
 divorce : even her prophetic fears of Henry's inconstancy, or 
 caprice, submitted to the passion for aggrandizing her family, to 
 dreams of regal greatness, and romantic anticipations of fame 
 and glory.* 
 
 * " Some, with the ladie herself, plotted to break or stay at the least, 
 till something might fall betweene the cup and the lip, that might break 
 all this purpose ; with one of them, if it might have bin, and verily 
 one of them might seem, for this present occasion, not unmeet to be 
 recounted, which was this : — Ther was conveyed to her a book pretend- 
 
ANNE'S GOOD QUALITIES. 193 
 
 It is worthy of remark, that even Cavendish,* the servant 
 and eulogist of Wolsey, although he complains of her ill offices 
 to his master, adduces against her no other proof of arrogance 
 or malevolence, and far from insinuating suspicions injurious to 
 her fame, contents himself with alluding to her habits of dress, 
 and magnificence, and her keen relish for gayety and luxury-. In 
 Anne Boleyn, the love of power appears to have been tempered, 
 if not corrected, by benevolence. Of the mercenary calculation 
 usually discovered in female favourites, she was absolutely inca- 
 pable. She 'might be susceptible of flattery, or caprice, but 
 spurned the meanness of either seeking or accepting a venal 
 recompense, and never were her services bartered for gold. With 
 her vanity was mingled a pardonable enthusiasm, inspired by 
 
 ing old prophecies, wlierein was represented the figure of some per- 
 souages, with the letter H upon one, and A, upon another, and K 
 upon the third, which an expounder therupon took upon him to inter- 
 pret by, the King and his wives ; and to her personage certain de- 
 struction, if she married the King. This book coming into her cham- 
 ber, she opened, and finding the contents, called to her maid, of whom 
 we have spoken afore, and who also bore her name. Come hither, 
 Nan, said she ; see here a book of prophecies ; this, she said, is the 
 King ; this the Queen, mourning and wringing her hands ; and this is 
 myself with my head ofi". The maid answered. If I thought it true, 
 though he were an Emperor, I would not myself marry him, with that 
 condition. Tut, Nan, replied the lady, I think the book a babel ; yet 
 for the hope I have, that this realm may be happy by my issue, I am 
 resolved to have him, whatever might become of me." — Wiatt'a Queene 
 Anne Bolcn. This circumstance is also adverted to by Fox. 
 
 * By Cavendish, her chastity is unimpeached, and he expressly says, 
 she flourished in general estimation. Yet Cavendish composed his 
 memoirs of Wolsey during the reign of Mary, to whom nothing coidd 
 be so acceptable as abuse of Anne Boleyn. 
 17 
 
194 . WIATT. 
 
 the persuasion, that she was predestined to achieve some great 
 object, a persuasion carefully fostered "by the partisans of the 
 Reformation, who hovered round her with demonstrations of 
 zeal and devotion.* Amidst all these brilliant prospects, it was 
 impossible that she should always forget her privations in ex- 
 changing, for dry disquisitions of polemics and politicians, the 
 wit and eloquence of Wiatt, the vivacity of Sir Francis Brian, 
 or the gayety and elegance of her brother's conversation. That 
 she passionately admired Wiatt' s poems is well known ; and it 
 may fairly be presumed, she was at least equally sensible to the 
 charms of his conversation, which was confessedly still more 
 attractive : but the influence of his society must have inflamed 
 
 * Anne was a devout admirer of Tindall's works, and particularly 
 of his Christian Obedience, which, with other heretical books, had been 
 proscribed by Cardinal Wolsey ; of this work a curious anecdote, 
 related by Wiatt, is corroborated in Strype's Memorials. In reading 
 books, she made, on such passages as she most relished, private marks, 
 which could be understood only by her familiar friends. Tindall's 
 volume lying in her gentlewoman's apartment, was by her lover pur- 
 loined, and carried to another house, and afterwards accidentally fell 
 into the hands of Wolsey's chaplain, by whom it came into the cardi- 
 nal's possession. Observing Anne Boleyn's annotations, he instantly 
 carried the book to the King, thinking his affections would be alienated 
 on discovering her heretical principles ; but Anne, who had anticipated 
 his intentions, had already not only obtained Henry's absolution for 
 reading the book, but prevailed on him to read it with her, and to be- 
 come its advocate. There is some discrepancy in the account given 
 by Strype and Wiatt. The latter is palpably incorrect, since he re- 
 presents Anne as being already married, which was not till after the 
 cardinal's death ; but both persist in attributing the motive to Wolsey. 
 It is notorious, that the persecution for heresy was considerably remit- 
 ted after her marriage, which may in part be ascribed to her influence. 
 
GEORGE BOLEYN. 195 
 
 her ambition to signalize herself as a reformer, since the arro- 
 gance and corruption of the Roman hierarchy formed his favour- 
 ite theme of satire on which he wrote and spoke with equal 
 spirit ; and the sentiments expressed in the following lines, 
 though written t^n years after, had long been habitual to his 
 mind. 
 
 I am not now in France, to judge the wine, 
 
 With savoury sauce and delicates to feed, 
 Nor yet in Spain, where one must him incline, 
 
 Rather than to be, outwardly to seem : 
 I meddle not with wits that be so fine. 
 
 Nor Flanders cheer letteth not my sight to deem 
 Of black and white, nor taketh my rest away 
 
 With beastliness, they beasts do so esteem. 
 Nor I am not where Christ is given in prey, 
 
 For money, poison, and trahison at Rome, 
 A common practice, used night and day ; 
 
 But here I am, in Kent, in Christendom. 
 
 It may be doubted, whether Anne had naturally any aptitudes 
 to the character of a stateswoman ; but her deficiencies were well 
 supplied by her father, or, in his absence, her brother ; and she 
 was, unhappily, under the influence of her secret enemy, the 
 Duke of Norfolk, who sought, by her means, to displace Wol- 
 sey, but was wholly indifferent to her real interest or prosperity. 
 Of all her familiar associates the most congenial to her taste and 
 temper were Wiatt, and her brother, George Boleyn, his chosen 
 friend, and in some personal qualities his acknowledged rival. 
 Like his sister, this young cavalier was distinguished by the ele- 
 gant symmetry of his form, and the winning sweetness of hia 
 manners : like his companion, he loved and cultivated poetry ; 
 nor is it a feeble commendation of his talents to add, that his 
 
196 HENRY HOWARD. 
 
 verses were often associated with the poems of Surrey^ and some- 
 times mistaken for the productions of Wiatt's pen. With these 
 young and brilliant reformers were connected Sir Francis Brian, 
 a veteran cavalier, and the youthful Earl of Surrey, about not 
 only to build the lofty rhyme, but to raise, in the production of 
 blank verse, a monument of his taste and genius, imperishable 
 as the English language. 
 
 Henry Howard was at once the favourite of nature and for- 
 tune ; but, like Wiatt, and the accomplished George Boleyn, he 
 had been united, by parental authority, to the Lady Frances 
 Vere, before he was of an age to form a deliberate choice. His 
 fancy was captivated by another object, whom he has immortal- 
 ized by the name of G-eraldine,but who participated so little in 
 his passion, that she voluntarily pledged her nuptial faith to the 
 old but wealthy diplomatist, Sir Anthony Brown. By a similar 
 fate Wiatt had given his hand, without his heart, to Elizabeth, 
 the daughter of Lord Cobham. After the impetuous season of 
 youth was past, both these marriages were productive of as much 
 happiness as is commonly to be found in domestic life ; but for 
 George Boleyn was reserved a less fortunate destiny. In pledg- 
 ing his faith to the daughter of Lord Morley, a nobleman cele- 
 brated for literary taste and talent, he probably offered no violence 
 to his inclinations, since the bride was young and handsome, and 
 the connection advantageous and honourable ; but as the lady's 
 character developed, he detected in it qualities the most adverse 
 to domestic peace and harmony. To an inflammable and stub- 
 born temper, she united pride, jealousy, and malignity ; and, 
 fatally for her husband, these passions were soon excited by 
 Anne Boleyn, whom she envied for her attractions, or detested 
 for her celebrity. Another circumstance conspired, not only to 
 
LADY rvOCIIFORD. 197 
 
 heighten, but, in her own eyes, perhaps, to justify her hatred. 
 As a rigid Catholic, she regarded not merely with antipathy, but 
 abhorrence, the Lutheranism of Anne, to whose influence she 
 probably attributed her husband's heretical propensities. It is 
 not known at what period of their marriage her husband became 
 aware of her perverted nature : to the total absence of sympathy 
 and congeniality he was soon conscious. On his part, indiffe- 
 rence, and, perhaps, infidelity, succeeded to disgust;* with her, 
 jealousy contended with hatred, till, finally, she sought to ruin 
 the man she no longer hoped to subjugate. As a poet, George 
 Boleyn is known only on the tablets of fame ; since the indivi- 
 duality of his works is still lost in the mass of contemporaneous 
 productions. But his merits are attested by his companions in 
 life and glory, Surrey and Wiatt, with whose lays his numbers 
 have been often associated, and some of whose most admired 
 productions have been attributed to his anonymous pen.f 
 
 * The name of Lord Rochford's mistress has not heen transmitted ; 
 but it is notorious that he had a natural son, who was educated for the 
 church, and ultimately became Dean of Peterborough. 
 
 f In the commendatory verses prefixed to Gascoine's Poems, published 
 in 1575, Lord Rochford is thus associated with Wiatt and Surrey: — 
 Sweet Surrey swept Parnassus' springs, 
 And Wiatt wrote of wond'rous things, 
 And Rochford clambe the statelie throne, 
 Which muses hold in Helicon. 
 
 The following poem, said by Dr. Nott to have been written by Wiatt, 
 has hitherto been invariably attributed to George Boleyn : — 
 
 The Lover complaining of his Love's Unkindness. 
 My lute, awake! — perform the last 
 Labour that thou and I shal wast, 
 17* 
 
198 
 
 EMBASSY FROM FRANCE. 
 
 During this season of care and perplexity to tlie King and 
 Queen, Wolsey and Anne Boleyn, the court was enlivened by a 
 scene of imposing splendour and festivity; and Henry's already 
 impoverished coffers were drained to furnish a magnificent re- 
 ception to a numerous embassy from France, headed by the 
 grand-master; Montmorenci, who came to present the order of 
 
 And end that I have now begoune : 
 And when this song is sung and past, 
 My lute, be still, for I have done. 
 
 As to be heard, where ear is none. 
 As lead to grave in marble stone, 
 My song may pearse her heart as soon — 
 Should we then sigh or sing or mone ? 
 No, no, my lute ; for I have done. 
 
 The rocks do not so cruelly 
 Repulse the waves continually, 
 
 As she my sute and affection; ' 
 
 So that I am past remedy. 
 
 Whereby my lute and I have done. 
 
 Vengeance shall follow thy disdain. 
 That makest but game of earnest payne : 
 
 Think not alone, under the sunne, 
 Unquit to cause thy lover's plain. 
 
 Although my lute and I have done. 
 
 May chance thee lie, withered and olde 
 In winter nights that are so colde, 
 
 Playning in vain unto the moone, 
 Thy wishes then dare not to be tolde ; 
 
 Care then, who list, for I have done. 
 
 Two additional stanzas are admitted in Dr. Nott's editon of Wiatt's 
 Works. 
 
BANQUET. 199 
 
 St. Michael to the Euglish monarchy to confer respecting the 
 projected marriage between Henry Duke of Orleans and the 
 Princess Mary, and privately to suggest the most effective means 
 of promoting the divorce. In honour of these distinguished 
 guests, entertainmjents were given at Hampton Court and Green- 
 wich by Wolsey and Henry ; which Cavendish has detailed with 
 his usual deliciousness of description. On this extraordinary 
 occasion, the cardinal convened a special council of officers of the 
 kitchen, to whom he delegated unlimited powers in making the 
 arrangements, with a strict injunction to be unsparing of expense. 
 A consultation was next held with all the " caterers and expert 
 cooks that might be gotten to beautify this noble feast. '^ No 
 cessation of labour was allowed to domestics, surveyors, or arti- 
 sans, till the auspicious day arrived; when one hundred and 
 eighty French gentlemen were admitted to the palace ; and till 
 the hour of supper came, were conducted to their private apart- 
 ments. At length the sonorous trumpets announced the ap- 
 proaching banquet : the visiters were ushered into the magnificent 
 hall; and whilst the tables were served, ^^ such a concert of music 
 was prepared^ that the Frenchmen seemed rapt in a heavenly 
 paradise." It was not till the end of the second course, that 
 the cardinal entered, booted and spurred, exclaiming " Proface ! 
 Prof ace 1"^ and with this general salutation gayly welcomed his 
 delighted guests. 
 
 In describing the devices of the dishes. Cavendish happily ex- 
 emplifies the elegant urbanity of Wolsey's manners : — " Among 
 all, I noted a chess-borde made with spice-plate, with men there- 
 of to the same. And for the good proportion, and because the 
 Frenchmen were very cunninge and expert in that play, ^my 
 
 * Much good may do you. 
 
200 THE KING'S TREAT. 
 
 Lord Cardinall gave the same to a gentleman of France, com- 
 mending tliere a goodly care for the preservation thereof, in all 
 haste, that he might convey the same safe into his own country. 
 Then toke my Lord a howle of gold filled with hippocras, and 
 putting off his cappe, said, I drink to the King, my sovereign 
 lorde, and next, to the King your master.'^ 
 
 According to Cavendish, the King's treat, which was given 
 at Greenwich,* surpassed that of Hampton Court, as gold doth 
 
 * Nothing can better illustrate the habits and manners of that age 
 than comparative sketches of their various magnificent entertainments. 
 To the French ambassador who arrived in England in the preceding 
 May, with the Vicomte de Turenne, Henry had provided a gala at 
 Greenwich, which is circumstantially described by Holinshed. "After 
 tilting in the morning, the company repaired to a banquetting-room, 
 a hundred feet in length, which had been prepared for their reception. 
 Under a roof of purple cloth blazed myriads of wax tapers ; the walls 
 were hung with tapestry, and three cupboards of plate ; and the whole 
 supper was served up in vessels of gold. To rehearse the fare, the 
 strangeness of dishes with devices of beasts and fowls, it were too long ; 
 wherefore I will let pass over the supper, with songs, and minstrelsy. 
 The supper was done ; the King, the Queen, and the ambassadors 
 washed, and after talked at their pleasure ; and then they rose, and 
 passed by a long gallery into another chamber." — After a very elabo- 
 rate, though somewhat unintelligible description of this apartment, the 
 chronicler adds, " the roof of this chamber was cunningly made by the 
 King's astronomer : on the ground of the roof was made the whole 
 Earth, environed with the sea, like a map or chart, and by a cunning 
 making of another cloth the zodiac with the twelve signs, and five 
 circles or girdles, and the two poles appeared on the earth, and water 
 compassing the same ; andin the zodiac were the twelve signs curiously 
 made, and above this were made seven planets, as Mars, Jupiter, Sol, 
 Mercurius, Venus, Saturnus, and Luna, every one in their proper houses, 
 
THE KING'S TREAT. 201 
 
 exceed silver; ^^ and/' lie adds, " for my parte, I never saw, Learde, 
 or reade of the like. After turning at the barrier, there was a 
 goodly enterlude in Latin,* this done, there came a number of 
 the fairest ladies and gentlewomen that bore any bruit of beauty 
 in all the realme, in most richest apparel that their tailors could 
 invent or devise, to set forth their gesture, proportion, and 
 beauty, that they seemed to all men to be rather celestial angels 
 descended from heaven, than creatures of flesh and bone ; with 
 whom these gentlemen of France danced, until a gorgeous 
 masque came in, of noble gentlemen, who danced and masked 
 with these ladies, every man as his fantasy served him : that 
 done, and the masquers departed, came in another masque of 
 ladies, so costly and gorgeously apparelled, that it passeth my 
 wit to manifest and declare ; wherefore, lest I should rather 
 deface their riches, I leave it untouched. These lady maskers 
 took each of them one of the Frenchmen to dance, and to mask. 
 Ye shall understand that these noblewomen maskers spake good 
 
 made according to their properties, that it was a cunning thing and a 
 pleasant sight to behold." The diversions of the evening commenced 
 with a solemn Latin oration, commemorating the peace, the liberation 
 of the French King, and the wisdom of Cardinal Wolsey : to this suc- 
 ceeded a masque, in which the Princess Mary, though only ten years 
 of age, sustained a part. The whole concluded with dancing ; and in 
 the sequel the Queen plucked off the visor from the King's face, and 
 her example was followed by the other ladies. 
 
 * We learn from Holinshed, that the main subject of this Latin com- 
 position was the Pope's captivity. St. Peter appeared to the cardinal, 
 authorizing him to deliver the head of the church from bondage. The 
 sons of Francis were introduced, soliciting the cardinal to intercede 
 for their liberty, which finally was by his means obtained. "At this 
 play, wise men smiled, and thought it sounded more glorious to the 
 cardinal than the matter in dede." 
 
202 GARDINER. 
 
 Frencli unto the Frenclimen^ which delighted them very much 
 to heard these ladies speak to them in their own tongue. Thus 
 was this night occupied and consumed, from five of the clock 
 until two or three of the clock after midnight ; at which time, 
 it was convenient for all estates to draw to their lodgings, and to 
 take their rest ; and thus every man departed whereas they had 
 most reliefe.'^ 
 
 Two days after this brilliant night, the principal members of 
 the embassy were dismissed with rich presents. A more accept- 
 able messenger shortly after arrived from Rome in the Almoner 
 Fox, whom G-ardiner had despatched with the ultimatum of 
 Clement's deliberations. Alternately intimidated by the Em- 
 peror and the cardinals, the Pope professed his inability to refuse 
 Catherine the privilege of appealing from the judgment of an 
 arbitrary court : and complained, with bitter tears, that he was 
 placed between the hammer and the forge.* To evince, how- 
 ever, his willingness to promote the King's wishes, he commis« 
 sioned Wolsey and Cardinal Campeggio to hear and judge the 
 cause in England, in a court convened by legatine authority. 
 Such was the result of Grardiner's laborious mission, and such 
 the terms conceded to one of the most potent sovereigns in 
 Europe. On any other occasion Henry would have spurned 
 conditions so inimical to his royal dignity; but now so com- 
 pletely was his pride subjected to a stronger passion, that he not 
 only listened to the alternative without repugnance, but em- 
 braced it with rapture, and in the first transports of his joy des- 
 patched the envoy from Greenwich to Westminster, to which he 
 was himself going in a few hours, that not a single moment 
 
 ■^ See Godwin's History of Henry the Eighth. Burnet's History of 
 the Reformation. 
 
LETTER TO WOLSEY. 20^ 
 
 ^>, 
 might be lost in transmitting to Anne Boleyn the welcome 
 
 tidings. From the lady, Fox experienced a still more cordial 
 reception ; but attributing her happiness to the good offices of 
 Gardiner, at that time distinguished by the appellation of Dr. 
 Stevens, she thought of him alone, and repeatedly addressed and 
 thanked the messenger in the name of his employer. Before 
 she had suspended her inquiries or her acknowledgments, Henry 
 himself entered ; when Anne, recollecting her peculiar situation, 
 with a modest sense of propriety that must have endeared her 
 to the enamoured monarch, withdrew from the apartment.* 
 
 Whether her advisers suggested doubts which allayed her 
 satisfaction, or whether Henry, on reflection, became more diffi- 
 dent of the Pope's ultimate intentions, they both applied to Wol- 
 sey to quicken the legate's movements, endeavouring to secure 
 his diligence and fidelity, by unlimited professions of gratitude 
 and confidence. The following joint epistle is evidently dictated 
 by anxiety, not quite unmixed with distrust : — 
 
 To Wolsei/. 
 " My Lord ; 
 " In my most humble wise that my heart can think, I desire 
 you to pardon me, that I am so bold to trouble you with my 
 simple and rude writing, esteeming it to proceed from her that 
 is much desirous to learn that your Grace doeth well, as I per- 
 ceive by this bearer that you do, the which T pray God long to 
 continue, as I am most bound to pray ; for I do know the great 
 pains and trouble that you have taken for me, botli day and 
 night* is never likely to be recompensed on my part, but alone 
 in loving you, next to the King's Grace, above all creatures 
 
 * Burnet. Strype. 
 
204 HENRY'S POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 living } and I do not doubt that the daily proofs of my deeds 
 will manifest; declare^ and affirm my writing to be true, and I 
 do trust you do think the same. My Lord, I' do assure you, I 
 do long to hear from you news of the Legate ; for I hope an 
 they come from you they shall be very good, and I am sure you 
 desire it as much as I do, and more if it were possible, as I 
 know it is not ; and thus remaining in a stedfast hope, I make 
 an end of my letter, written with the hand of her that is most 
 bound to be — '' 
 
 To this Henry subjoined the following postscript. 
 
 " The writer of this letter would not cease till she had caused 
 me likewise to set to my hand, desiring you, though it be short, 
 to take it in good part. I assure you there is neither of us but 
 that greatly desires to see you, and much more joyous to hear 
 that you have escaped this plague so well, trusting the fury 
 thereof to be past, especially to him that keepeth good diet, as I 
 trust you do. The not hearing of the Legate arriving in France 
 causes us somewhat to muse ; notwithstanding, we trust, by your 
 diligence and vigilancy, with the assistance of Almighty Grod, 
 shortly to be eased out of that trouble. No more to you at this 
 time, but that I pray God send you good health and prosperity, 
 as the writer would. 
 
 ^' By your loving sovereign and friend, 
 
 ^^H. E. 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 ^^Anne Boleyn.'^* 
 
 The nomination of Cardinal Campeggio, a man who had reached 
 his climacteric, and was often confined by gout to his chamber, 
 might with reason excite suspicions of Clement's sincerity ; and 
 
 * Burnet. 
 
HENRY'S DUPLICITY. 205 
 
 it appears from the Bishop of Bayonne, Cardinal du Bellai,* 
 then residing in England, that he was chosen by the connivance 
 or suggestion of Wolsey, partly to afford a convenient pretext for 
 protracting the negotiation. Whether this adroit management 
 was detected by Henry or not, it certainly escaped not the pene- 
 tration of Sir Thomas Boleyn, who retained spies and sentinels in 
 every corner of France, Italy, and Germany ; and it was probably 
 owing to his vigilance that Anne entered into a correspondence 
 with Gardiner, which, though concealed from Wolsey, was well 
 known by Henry, who was hence enabled to form a correct esti- 
 mate of his minister's diligence and sincerity. 
 
 Whatever suspicions to the prejudice of Wolsey might be 
 created in the King's breast, he was cautious to conceal them 
 from Anne, whose unguarded openness of temper, although it 
 probably formed her peculiar charm to his dark, designing 
 nature, was obviously ill calculated to participate in the 
 mysteries of political intrigue. To himself duplicity was now 
 become habitual. Originally compelled by wayward circum- 
 stances to disguise his sentiments, he had condescended to arti- 
 fice and evasion, till it almost constituted a secret and appro- 
 priate source of enjoyment. It was during the process of the 
 divorce that this dark shade of obliquity in his character became 
 fixed and permanent : accustomed to the unbounded indulgence 
 of an imperious will, he could ill brook the necessity of submit- 
 ting to privation or restraint ; and having discharged from his 
 mind even that latent sense of moral obligation which hitherto 
 had partially checked the violence of his passions, he scrupled 
 
 * The l3rother to the histoi-ian. He appears to have been a man of 
 the most amiable manners ; and during his residence in England en- 
 deared himself to the King, the court, and even the people. 
 
 18 
 
206 HENRY'S SCRUPLES. 
 
 not to employ the most elaborate dissimulation to insure their 
 accomplishment. Other vices debase mankind : it is by hypo- 
 crisy alone^ that the moral sympathies are utterly perverted, and 
 even the original features of humanity effaced. It was during 
 the vexations and entanglements incident to the process of the 
 divorce, that Henry gradually developed those germs of cruelty, 
 which were hereafter to inspire terror and abhorrence. 
 
 It is impossible to hear, without disgust, the pretended 
 scruples with which the King attempted to disguise the real mo- 
 tives that impelled him to separate from Catherine. To the 
 bishops he talked of conscience ; to the nobility, of the succes- 
 sion ; whilst, to complete the mockery, he affected to lament the 
 necessity that estranged him from the Princess, so long and so 
 deservedly beloved. Although the Queen could scarcely have 
 been the dupe of such professions, she affected to pity his delu- 
 sion, and to hope that the holy men, from whom he sought 
 relief, might restore j)eace to his wounded mind. For herself, 
 she continued to avow her unalterable conviction that her mar- 
 riage was true and lawful, since it had been sanctioned by 
 a papal bull of dispensation; thus resting on a mere theo- 
 logical quiUble the merits of a cause, which ought to have 
 been sustained by the immutable principles of right and justice. 
 At this moment the interior of the court of England presented 
 a perpetual system of disguises and deceptions, infinitely more 
 artificial and imj)osing than the masques and mummeries from 
 time to time presented to the people. It was remarked that 
 Anne always approached Catherine with respect, and that Cathe- 
 rine treated Anne with unusual complacency.* The King and 
 
 * See tlie Letters of Cardinal dti Bellai appended to Le Grand ; and 
 Cavendish, who states that Catherine treated Mrs. Anne Boleyn with 
 
CATHERINE'S POPULARITY. 207 
 
 the Queen continued apparently to live in perfect harmony, oc- 
 cupying the same apartment, and dining at the same table ; but 
 it was observed, that whilst the former looked melancholy, the 
 latter seemed unusually cheerful ; and utterly to discountenance 
 an idea privately suggested at Rome, that she should retire to a 
 convent, she adopted a gayer style of dress, encouraged music 
 and dancing, and joined with alacrity in those pleasures she had 
 formerly censured or rejected. Nor was this the only altera- 
 tion remarked in Catherine's deportment : discarding her wonted 
 habits of reserve, she went voluntarily into public, evidently 
 seeking, by gracious smiles and salutations, to ingratiate herself 
 with the people. The effort was repaid with success ; the ap- 
 proaching arrival of the legate was distasteful to the citizens, 
 already displeased by the interruption of their commerce with 
 Flanders, and now seriously alarmed with denunciations of hos- 
 tility from Austria. If these commercial considerations ope- 
 rated with one sex against the divorce, the more generous feelings 
 of pity and sympathy were no less imperative on the other ; and, 
 to their honour, the women were notoriously the warm and dis- 
 interested advocates of Catherine's cause.* "VYithout entering 
 into theological quibbles or political speculations, they con- 
 demned, as cruel, a measure which, however disguised by sophistry 
 and hypocrisy, was in reality only brought forward to gratify the 
 inclinations of one party at the expense of the other; and, for 
 a time, such was the enthusiasm inspired by their influence, that 
 
 the most marked distinction. Wiatt (see the Life of Queen Anne Bolen) 
 maintains that xVnne always testified profound respect for her mis- 
 tress. 
 
 * Hall. Herbert. Godwin. 
 
208 THE SWEATING SICKNESS. 
 
 the people protested^ with honest vehemence^ whoever married 
 the Princess Mary should he their lawful sovereign.* 
 
 During this season of perplexity and distraction^ Henry's ill 
 humour exploded in fury against Wolsey; who was so far inti- 
 midated^ as to write to the Pope^ beseeching him to despatch 
 the legate without further delay. At length Campeggio com- 
 menced his journey; but scarcely had Henry hailed these good 
 tidingSj when the sweating-sickness became epidemic^ and the 
 consequent alarm of infection spread gloom and terror through 
 the court. Anne Boleyn precipitately retreated to a village near 
 Lambeth, whilst the King and Queen, and their attendants, 
 migrated from place to place ; and such was the panic created 
 by this awful malady, that, like the physician, the confessor and 
 the lawyer were constantly in requisition. Henry made his 
 will, prayed, and fasted with Catherine, and was supposed to be 
 estranged from Anne, when, in reality, as appears by his letters, 
 she engrossed his thoughts, and was more than ever the object 
 of his tenderness."!" In one of these letters, he says, — "As 
 touching your abode at Hever, you know what aire doth best 
 
 * See tlie Letters appended to Le Grand's Histoire du Divorce ; also 
 Lord Herbert and Holinshed. 
 
 I " The uneasiness, mj doubts about your health gave me, disturbed 
 and frightened me extremely, and I should not have had any quiet 
 without hearing a certain account. But now, since you have yet felt 
 nothing, I hope it is with you as with us; for, when we were at AValton, 
 two ushers, two valets de chambre, and your brother, master-treasurer, 
 fell ill, and are now quite well ; and since we are returned to your house 
 at Hondson,^ we have been perfectly well, God be praised, and have 
 not, at present, one sick person in the family ; and, I think, if you 
 would retire from the Surrey side, as we did, you would escape all 
 danger. There is another thing that may comfort you, which is, that 
 
 a In Essex, purchased, in 1512, of Sir Thomas Boleyn. 
 
SIR WILLIAM CAREY. 209 
 
 suit you j but I would it were come to that thereto, if it please 
 God, that neither of us need care for that ; for I assure you I 
 think it long/' Among other victims of the sweating-sickness 
 was Sir William Carey, the husband of Mary Boleyn, in whose 
 behalf Anne appears to have made a request to Henry, to which 
 he thus supplies : — ^^ With regard to your sister's matter, I have 
 caused Walter Welche to write to my Lord your father my mind 
 thereon, whereby I trust that Eve shall not have, power to deceive 
 Adam ; for surely whatsoever is said, it cannot so stand with his 
 honour, but that he must needs take her, his natural daughter, 
 now in her extreme necessity/"^ From the cant of piety in 
 some of the letters written at this period, it is evident that 
 Henry had not entirely overcome his dread of infection; but 
 although he had himself the good fortune to escape the malady, 
 he was suddenly alarmed for the safety of Anne, who expe- 
 rienced an attack comparatively mild, but which called forth his 
 most tender solicitude.f 
 
 in trutb. this distemper few or no women have been taken ill ; and, be- 
 sides, no person of oui' court, and few elsewhere have died of it. For 
 ' which reasons I beg you, my entirely beloved, not to frighten yourself, 
 nor to be too uneasy at our absence : for wherever I am, I am yours, 
 and yet we must sometimes submit to our misfortunes, for, whoever 
 will struggle against fate, is generally but so much the farther from 
 gaining his end ; wherefore, comfort yourself, and take courage, and 
 make this misfortune as easy to you as you can, and I hope shortly to 
 make you sing for joy of your recall. No more at present for lack of 
 time, but that I wish you in my arms, that I might a little dispel your 
 unreasonable thoughts." — See Ilarleian Miscellany. 
 
 * From this passage it appears, contrary to Sanders, that there was 
 no estrangement between the sisters. 
 
 f His feelings are forcibly expressed in the following letter: — 
 18 * 
 
210 ANNE'S RETURN. 
 
 Anne soon recovered sufficiently to return to court^ where her 
 presence diffused such evident satisfaction^ that those who had 
 lately predicted the estrangement of the King's affections, were 
 convinced her empire was more confirmed than ever; and Car- 
 dinal du Bellai* confessed, that by nothing short of a miracle 
 was Henry to he cured of his passion. At this crisis distraction 
 appears to have prevailed in Wolsey's councils, who vented his 
 secret chagrin in execrations on the emperor, and even seriously 
 
 II There came to me at night the most afflicting news possible : for 
 I have reason to grieve upon three accounts ; first, because I heard of 
 the sickness of my mistress, whom I esteem more than all the world, 
 whose health I desire as much as my own, and the half of whose sick- 
 ness I would willingly bear to have her cured ; secondly, because I 
 fear I shall suffer yet longer that tedious absence which has hitherto 
 given me all possible uneasiness, and as far as I can judge, is like to 
 give me more. I pray God he would deliver me from so troublesome a 
 tormentor. The third reason is, because the physician, in whom I 
 trust most, is absent at present, when he could do me the greatest 
 pleasure. For I should hope, by him and his means, to obtain one of 
 my principal joys in this world, that is, my mistress cured ; however, 
 in default of him, I send you the second, and the only one left, pray- 
 ing God that he may soon make you well, and then I shall love him 
 more than ever. I beseech you to be governed by his advices with re- 
 lation to your illness ; by your doing which I hope shortly to see you 
 again, which will be to me a greater cordial than all the precious 
 stones in the world. Written by the secretary, who is and always 
 
 will be, 
 
 "Your loyal, 
 
 " And most assured servant, 
 
 "H. R." 
 
 See Harleian Miscellany. 
 
 ■^ See his Letters in the third volume of Le Grand's Histoire du Di- 
 vorce d' Henri et Catherine. 
 
 I 
 
DISCONTENT OF THE PEOPLE. 211 
 
 proposed his deposition in a general council, declaring, that by 
 his sacrilegious treatment of the Pope, he had forfeited his rights 
 to the crown of Ca3sar. The discontents of the people, irritated 
 by restrictions on commerce, and the imposition of new taxes, 
 broke forth in murmurs against the divorce, and the minister to 
 whose fatal influence it was most unjustly attributed. A dispo- 
 sition to insurrection manifested itself in the North ; and whilst 
 it was pretended that Lord Rochford was to be created Duke of 
 Somerset (a title already appropriated to Henry's natural son), 
 a thousand injurious calumnies were circulated by the Catholics 
 against his daughter. Of these murmurs Henry is said to have 
 been apprised by Lord Rochford, who, with consummate pru- 
 dence, advised him to dismiss Anne from court, and to take some 
 decisive step to appease the clamours of the people.* Little as 
 Henry could have relished the proposal, he adopted it with 
 ardour; and whether his precipitation wounded the pride, or 
 mortified the hopes of Anne Boleyn, she left the court by his 
 
 * Loyd ascribes the temporary separation of Henry and Anne ex- 
 clusively to the suggestions of Sir Thomas Boleyn ; but these were un- 
 questionably enforced by other counsellors. That it should have 
 originated with Anne's father, is, however, perfectly in unison with 
 his wary, cautious, penetrating character. Nothing could have been 
 better devised to defeat the malice of his daughter's enemies, or to 
 inspire confidence in his own upright principles, and disinterested con- 
 duct. It is also probable that he might dread the consequences of 
 Anne's indiscretion or impetuosity. The occasion of her dismission is 
 stated by Sanders, with his usual disingenuousness and malignity. 
 He pretends that Cardinal Wolsey was the King's adviser (a very im- 
 probable supposition, if we consider the delicate position of Wolsey 
 with Anne Boleyn), and that Anne, exasperated by this new proof of 
 his power, renewed her vows of eternal vengeance against him. 
 
212 POSITION OF HENRY. 
 
 express orderS; with painful impressicns of distrust; not unmin- 
 gled with resentment. 
 
 At this moment no situation could he less enviable : whether 
 she believed that the crisis of her fate approached^ or whether 
 she anticipated a repetition of those conflicts and chagrins in- 
 separable from a state of suspense and probation^ she had but 
 too much reason to fear the publicity of the King's passion left 
 her no medium between supreme greatness and ignominious de- 
 gradation. At the commencement of the process for divorce, 
 neither she nor Henry could have looked for the impediments 
 that continued to retard its progress.* It had more than once 
 been suggested by Clement, that the celebration of the marriage 
 might precede the dispensation to be hereafter granted : with 
 whatever view this promise was made, it was now but too proba- 
 ble that the Pope meant to evade its performance ; and it was 
 obviously his policy, by protracting the cause, to exhaust the 
 King's patience. If Henry persisted, Anne, like another 
 Elizabeth Woodville, might have to witness the alienation of 
 his subjects, and to incur the reproach of having destroyed his 
 peace and prosperity. But was it credible that he should per- 
 severe in an object which could only be effected by a formal 
 renunciation of the Roman see ? Not even the obstinacy of his 
 temper assured her he should withstand the test. If he relin- 
 
 ■^ AccorcliBg to Lord Herbert and some other historians, the draft 
 of a bull was actually found among the state-papers, dated Orvieto, 
 1527, not only authorizing Henry to contract marriage with any woman 
 (not being his brother's widow), but even guarantying the legality of 
 such marriage, although contracted without a formal dispensation ; 
 this bull appears to have been rejected by Gardiner on some suspicion 
 of informality. 
 
HENRY'S LETTERS TO ANNE. 213 
 
 qiiislied the pursuit, he would still he a monarch equally great 
 aud beloved ; whilst the envied Anne Boleyn would have no 
 alternative hut to withdraw for ever from that world in which 
 she had only to look for obloquy and contempt. In this con- 
 stant agitation of her spirits, it was impossible but that by some 
 unguarded expressions she should betray to Henry her doubts of 
 Clement, or her suspicions of Wolsey ; and from the tenour of 
 his correspondence, it is evident that something like recrimi- 
 nation occasionally passed between them.* In one of his letters, 
 the King tells his mistress that he takes pleasure in attending 
 to her reasonable requests.f To do him justice, however, he 
 appears to have transmitted daily and almost hourly intelligence 
 of Campeggio's approach. The following letter is in a strain of 
 unwonted complacency : — 
 
 To Anne Boleyn. 
 '''■ The approach of the time which I have so long expected 
 rejoices me so much, that it seems almost ready come. How- 
 
 * "Although, my mistress, you have not been pleased to remember 
 the promise which you made me when I was last -with you, which was, 
 that I should hear news of you, and have an answer to my last letter ; 
 yet I think it belongs to a true servant (since otherwise he can know 
 nothing) to send to inqiiire of his mistress's health ; and for to acquit 
 myself of the office of a true servant, I send you this letter, begging 
 you to give me an account of the state 3'ou are in, which I pray God 
 may continue as long in prosperity as I wish my own." 
 
 f "The reasonable request of your last letter, with the pleasure I 
 also take to know them, causes me to send you now this news. The 
 legate, which we most desire, arrived at Paris on Sunday or Monday 
 last past ; so that I trust, by the next Monday, to hear of his arrival at 
 Calais : and then, I trust, within a while after, to enjoy that which I 
 have so long longed for, to God's pleasure, and our both comforts." 
 
214 HENRY'S LETTERS TO ANNE. 
 
 ever the intire accomplisliment cannot be till the two persons 
 meet^ which meeting is more desired by me than anything in this 
 world; for what joy can be greater upon earth than to have the 
 company of her who is my dearest friend ? Knowing likewise 
 that she does the same on her part, the thinking on which gives 
 great pleasure. You may judge what an effect the presence of M 
 that person must have on me, whose absence has made a greater 
 wound in my heart than either words or writing can express, and ^| 
 which nothifig can cure but her return. I beg you, dear mis- 
 tress, to tell your father, from me, that I desire him to hasten 
 the appointment by two days, that he may be in court before 
 the old terms, or at farthest on the day prefixed, for otherwise I 
 shall think he will not do the lover's turn, as he said he would, 
 not answer my expectation. No more at present, for want of 
 time, hoping shortly that by word of mouth I shall tell you the 
 rest of my sufferings from your absence." 
 
 In one billet he is evidently desirous to soothe her impatience ; 
 and in the next complains that the contents of his last had trans- 
 pired ; upon which he sapiently observes, " that lack of discreet 
 handling must be the cause thereof.''* 
 
 * (Original.) 
 " Darling; 
 " I heartily recommend me to yon, ascertaining you that I am a little 
 perplexed with such things as your brother shall on my part declare 
 unto you, to whom I pray you will give full credit, for it were too long 
 to write. In my last letters, I writ to you, that I trusted shortly to see 
 you, which is better known at London than any that is about me, 
 whereof I not a little marvel, but lack of discreet handling must needs 
 be the cause thereof. No more to you at this time, but that I trust 
 shortly our meeting shall not depend upon other men's light handling, 
 but upon your own. Writ with the hand of him that longs to be yours." 
 
HENRY'S LETTERS TO ANNE. 215 
 
 That her return to court was the object of his unceasing soli- 
 citude, appears from another letter, in which he says, "As 
 touching a lodging for you, we have gotten one by my Lord 
 Cardinal's means, the like whereof could not have been found 
 hereabouts, for all causes, as this bearer shall show you."* 
 
 Among other mortifications incident to her situation, Anne 
 could not but be sensible that the lover was also the sovereign. 
 The following letter commences with a very equivocal, if not 
 sarcastic compliment : — 
 
 "To inform you what joy it is to me to understand of your 
 conformableness with reason, and of the suppressing of your 
 imitile and vain thoughts 2iTi^ fantasies with the bridle of reason j 
 I assure you all the goodness of this world could not counter- 
 poise for my satisfaction in the knowledge and certainty thereof; 
 therefore, good sweetheart, continue the same, not only in this 
 but in all your doings hereafter ; for thereby shall come, both 
 to you and me, the greatest quietness that may be in this world." 
 After this he resumes the subject of her future residence, in the 
 style of one who is conscious that he has conferred an especial 
 favour, obviously with a determination to vindicate the honour 
 of Campeggio.f 
 
 "■ This was called Suffolk House, having been formerly occupied by 
 the Duke of Suffolk. On its site was afterwards erected Northumber- 
 land House. It has been pretended by Sanders, that this mansion was 
 a peace-offering to Anne Boleyn from Henry ; from the correspondence, 
 however, nothing transpires to verify this assertion : even if, as Lord 
 Herbert states, she kept the King at a distance on her return to court, 
 she showed, in this, not only pride but prudence, and may be supposed 
 to have followed her father's counsels. It should be observed that 
 there was another Suffolk House in Southwark, which was also occupied 
 by Cliarlcs Brandon. 
 
 f " The cause wliy this bearer stays so lo)ig is the gcer I have had 
 
216 CARDINAL CAMPEGGIO. 
 
 The general character of this cardinal was such as justified 
 the eulogium. Like many of the more respectable prelates iiAj 
 that age, he had married in his youth, on his wife's death taken 
 orderS; and gradually risen to distinction by sound learning and 
 strict attachment to Catholic principles. To the English court 
 he was no stranger, having ten years before been associated with 
 Wolsey in visiting and dissolving those monasteries, on whose 
 ruin was erected Cardinal College. In his cold, reserved 
 manners, he was strikingly contrasted with his colleague, in 
 whose taste for splendour he so little participated, that he 
 shunned occasions of pomp and exhibition, preferring to all other 
 privileges the indulgence of ease and privacy. "Without one 
 brilliant talent, he had acquired a high reputation, founded on 
 gravity and discretion, and an inflexible observance of ecclesias- 
 tical formalities, however tedious or unimportant. At his first 
 public interview with the King, he dilated, in a Latin oration, 
 on the injuries which the Pope and his subjects had sustained 
 from the Lnperial party. To this subject Henry was prepared 
 to listen with respectful commiseration; but when, at their pri- 
 vate conference, the legate, pro formdj exhorted him to drop 
 
 to dress up for you, wMcli I trust ere long to see you occupy, and then 
 I trust to occupy yours, -wMcli shall be recompense enough to me for 
 all my pains and labour. The unfeigned sickness of this well-willing 
 legate doth somewhat retard this access to your person, but I trust, 
 verily, when God shall send him health, he will with diligence recom- 
 pense his demur ; for I know well where he hath said (fomenting the 
 saying and bruit noise), that he shall be thought imperial, that it shall 
 be well known in this matter that he is not imperial: and this for 
 lack of time. Farewell." 
 
 Imperial was the term applied to the partisans of Charles the Fifth, 
 and his aunt Catherine. 
 
HIS NEGOTIATIONS. 217 
 
 the suit which he had come to England expressly to commence, 
 the monarch's patience began to flag ; and nothing hut the per- 
 suasion that Campeggio was actually in possession of the decretal 
 bull so long solicited; and that it was in due time to be produced, 
 could have reconciled him to a mockery at once so palpable and 
 tantalizing. Campeggio's next visit was to Catherine, whom he 
 advised with equal earnestness, and, perhaps, more sincerity, to 
 embrace a religious life; but even the self-denying Queen rejected 
 the proposal in a manner that showed how little she relished his 
 interference ; protesting that she was Henry's lawful wife, and, 
 consequently, had no right to withdraw from her husband's 
 protection. 
 
 Having paid the proper tribute to decorum, the punctilious 
 legate, in conjunction with Wolsey, entered upon an elaborate 
 investigation of the evidence in favour of the divorce ', but his 
 diligence was checked by frequent returns of indisposition, and 
 by the rumour of the Pope's death. At this intelligence the 
 cardinal's hopes revived, and, in an ecstasy of enthusiasm, he sent 
 to Gardiner to secure his election to the papacy ; and as both. 
 Francis and Henry* had cogent motives for seconding his pre- 
 
 * That Henry had participated in Wolsey's hopes, is evident, from 
 the following letter addressed to Anne Boleyn, in which he refers to 
 the mission of Fox to Gardiner, to secure the cardinal's election : — 
 " Darling ; 
 
 " This shall be only to advertise you, that this bearer, and his fellow, 
 be despatched with as many things to compass matters, and to bring it 
 to pass, as our wits could manage or devise; which brought to pass, 
 as I trust by their diligence it shall be shortly, you and I shall have 
 our desired end; which shall be more to my heart's ease, and more 
 quietness to my mind, than any other thing in this world, as by God's 
 grace stcdfastly I trust shall be proved, but not so soon as I would it 
 19 
 
218 THE CONSISTORIAL COURT. 
 
 tensions, letters were written, messengers despatched, largesses 
 promised and anticipated; when, alas I it was discovered, that 
 the Pope had revived, and Wolsey saw his sun of glory sink for 
 ever ! 
 
 At length, Campeggio having exhausted every possible pretext 
 for delay, the consistorial court was opened,* when, says God- 
 win, " such a scene was exhibited as had never before been pre- 
 sented to the astonished world. A puissant monarch cited by 
 the voice of an apparitor, made his appearance before the 
 judges." It would be unnecessary to revert to this scene, which 
 Shakspeare had rendered familiar to every English reader, but 
 that it has been described by an eye-witness, with a felicity and 
 spirit almost unequalled in any prose narration.*}* 
 
 " There were many tables and benches set in manner of a con- 
 sistory, one seat being higher than another for the judges aloft ; 
 above them, three degrees high, was a cloth of estate hanged, 
 and a chair royal under the same, wherein sat the King and 
 some distance off sat the Queen, and at the judges^ feet sat the 
 scribes and officers for the execution of the process. The chief 
 scribe was Dr. Stevens, J after Bishop of Winchester; and the 
 apparitor, who was called Doctor of the Court, was one Cooke, 
 
 were ; yet I will assure you there shall be no time lost that may be 
 won, and further cannot be done, for ultra posse non est esse. Keep him 
 not too long with you, but desire him, for your sake, to make the more 
 speed ; for the sooner we shall have word for him, the sooner shall ouj? 
 matter come to pass; and thus, upon trust to your short repair to 
 London, I make an end of my letter; mine own sweetheart. Written 
 with the hand of him that desires as much to be yours." 
 
 * In the palace of Bridewell. 
 
 f Cavendish's Life of Wolsey. 
 
 X Gardiner. 
 
THE CONSISTORIAL COURT. 219 
 
 of Westminster. Then, before the King and the judges, sat 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Doctor Warham, and all other 
 bishops ; there stood, at both ends within, counsellors learned 
 in the spiritual laws, as well on the King's side as the Queen's 
 side, — Dr. Sampson, afterwards Bishop of Chichester, and Dr. 
 Hall, after Bishop of Worcester, with divers others ; and proc- 
 tors in the same law were Dr. Peter, who was afterwards chief 
 secretary, and Dr. Tregunwell, with divers others. 
 
 "Now, on the other side, there were council for the Queen, 
 Dr. Fisher, Bishop of Eochester, and Dr. Standish, Bishop of 
 St. Asaph, in Wales, two brave noble divines ; especially the 
 Bishop of Rochester, a very godly man; whose death many 
 noblemen and many worthy divines much lamented, who lost 
 his head about this cause, before it was ended, upon Tower Hill : 
 as also another ancient doctor, called Dr. Ridley, a little man, 
 but a great divine. The court being thus ordered, as is before 
 expressed, the judges commanded the cryer to proclaim silence, 
 whilst the commission was both read to the court and to the 
 people there assembled : that done, and silence being again pro- 
 claimed, the scribes commanded the cryer to call King Henry 
 of England ; whereunto the King answered, and said, ^ Here :' 
 then called he again the Queen of England, by the name of 
 ' Catherine, Queen of England, come into the court,' &c., who 
 made no answer thereunto, but rose immediately out of her 
 chair where she sat ; and, because she could not come to the 
 King directly, by reason of the distance, therefore she came 
 round about the court to the King, and kneeled down at his 
 feet, saying these words in broken English, as followeth : — 
 
 " ' Sir,' quoth she, ^ I beseech you do me justice and right, 
 and take some pity upon me, for I am a poor woman and a stran- 
 
220 PATHETIC APPEAL OF CATHERINE. 
 
 gei; born out of your dominions^ having here no indifferent 
 council; and less assurance of friendship. Alas ! Sir^ how have 
 I offended you ? What offence have I given you, intending to 
 abridge me of life in this sort ? I take Grod to witness, I have 
 been to you a true and loyal wife, ever conformable to your will 
 and pleasure ; never did I contrary or gainsay your mind, but 
 always submitted myself in all things, wherein you had any 
 delight or dalliance, whether it were little or much, without 
 grudging or any sign of discontent. I have loved, for your 
 sake, all men whom you have loved, whether I had cause or not, 
 were they friends or foes. I have been your wife this twenty 
 years. If there be any cause that you can allege, either of 
 dishonesty, or of any other matter, lawful to put me from you, I 
 am willing to depart with shame and rebuke ; but if there be 
 none, then I pray you to let me have justice at your hands. 
 
 " ' The King, your father, was a man of such an excellent wit 
 in his time, that he was recounted a second Solomon ; and the 
 King of Spain, my father, Ferdinand, was taken for one of the 
 wisest kings that reigned in Spain these many years. So they 
 were both wise men and noble princes ; and it is no question but 
 they had wise counsellors of either realm, as be now at this day, 
 who thought not, at the marriage of you and me, to hear what 
 new devices are now invented against me, to cause me to stand 
 to the order of this court. And I conceive you do me much 
 wrong, nay you condemn me for not answering, having no coun- 
 sel but such as you have assigned me : you must consider that 
 they cannot be indifferent on my part, being your own subjects, 
 and such as you have made choice of out of your own council, 
 whereunto they a-re privy, and dare not disclose your pleasure. 
 
 "^Therefore, I most humbly beseech you to spare me, until I 
 
SHE DENIES THE JURISDICTION. 221 
 
 know how my friends in Spain will advise me ; but if you will 
 not, then let your pleasure be done/ 
 
 " And with that she rose, making a curtesy to the King, and 
 departed from thence, all the people thinking she would have 
 returned again to her former seat ; but she went presently out 
 of the court, leaning upon the arm of one of her servants, who 
 was her general receiver, one Mr. G-riffith. 
 
 ^^ The King, seeing that she was ready to go out of the court, 
 commanded the cryer to call her again by these words, — ^ Cathe- 
 rine, Queen of England, come into court.' — ^Lo,' quoth Mr. 
 Griffith, ^you are called again/ — ^Go on,' quoth she, ^it is no 
 matter : it is no indifferent court for me, therefore I will not 
 tarry ; go on 3'^our way :' and so she departed, without any fur- 
 ther answer at that time, or any appearance in any other court.'' 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WOLSEY^S DISGRACE. — ANNE's CORONATION. 
 
 Edicts — The Court — Catherine's Firmness — Campeggio's Decision — 
 Henry's Kage — Wolsey's Disgrace — His Deceit exposed — Effects of 
 the Verdict — The Lutherans — Cranmer summoned to Court — Wolsey's 
 Enemies — His Reception by the King — Perplexity of Anne — Her 
 Influence — Fall of Wolsey — His Eetirement — His Final Dismission — 
 His Catholicism — His Successors — Gardiner — Cromwel — More — 
 Cranmer — State of Morals — Luther's opinion — The Universities — The 
 Clergy and Parliament — Satisfaction of the People — The Reformers 
 encouraged — Remonstrance — Death of Wolsey — Dismissal of Cathe- 
 rine — Embarrassment of Henry — Cranmer's Instructions — Inter- 
 course of Henry and Anne — Domestic Habits of Henry — Cardinal du 
 Bellai's Letter — Anne's Occupations — Grand Ceremonial — Anne 
 created a Marchioness — A Feast — Progress to France — Meeting of 
 Henry and Francis I. — Hawking Party — Dances — Marriage of Anne 
 — Her Coronation — The Earl and Countess of Wiltshire. 
 
 During Cardinal Campeggio's residence in England, tlie 
 fluctuations of Henry's mind were indicated by the perpetual 
 inconsistency and vacillation of his conduct. It has been already 
 related that, previous to the legate's arrival, Anne was dis- 
 missed from court ', and to give more efficacy to the sacrifice of 
 his inclinations, Henry convened to his palace at Bridewell an 
 assembly of bishops, peers, lawyers, and commoners, to whom 
 he detailed the rise and progress of his pious fears ; solemnly 
 declaring, that, could his conscience be quieted, his affections 
 would again elect his present Queen, in preference to the fairest 
 
EDICTS. 223 
 
 and worthiest of her sex. Whatever credit might have been 
 given to these professions was destroyed by the impatience with 
 which, in three months, he not only recalled Anne to London, 
 but established her in Suffolk House, where, surrounded by her 
 nearest relatives, she was assiduously visited by his ministers 
 and courtiers as their future queen. 
 
 To the irritable state of Henry's feelings, might, perhaps, in 
 part, be attributed the promulgation of several additional edicts 
 to the statutes of Eltham,* in which he requires from his ser- 
 vants not merely unconditional submission, but mute and hlind 
 devotion to his royal pleasure. f That some suspicion was 
 mingled with this irritation, may be gathered from another 
 proclamation, by which all members of the Lower House are 
 enjoined to repair to their respective counties, on pain of his heavy 
 displeasure. There were two causes for the King's perplexity ; 
 he was estranged from his old confidants, and distrustful of his 
 
 * " That oflBcers of the privy chamber shall be loving together, 
 keeping secret every thing said or done ; leaving hearkning or inquir- 
 ing where the King is or goes, be it early or late ; -without grudging, 
 mumbling, or talking of the King's pastime, late or early going to bed, 
 or any other matter. 
 
 " That the six gentlemen of the privy chamber shall have a vigilant 
 and reverend eye and respect to his Grace ; so that, by his look or 
 countenance, they may know what he lacketh, or what is his pleasure 
 to be had or done." 
 
 It was also enacted, *' That all such nobles as repaired to the par- 
 liament, were immediately to depart into their several counties, on 
 pain of his high displeasure, and to be further punished as to him or 
 his Highness's council shall be thought convenient." 
 
 f It is remarkable that two of the gentlemen permitted to enter the 
 King's chamber at all hours, were Weston and Norris, both of whom 
 were afterwards beheaded. 
 
224 THE COURT. 
 
 new advisers^ — the enemies of Wolsey and tlie abettors of the 
 Reformation. Unwilling to secede from the church of Rome, 
 he persisted in believing that the legate was authorized to j)ro- 
 nounce the definitive sentence of divorce ; but even this convic- 
 tion did not always control the displeasure with which he wit- 
 nessed his tantalizing habit of procrastination. 
 
 During some weeks the Consistorial Court continued to exhibit 
 a disgusting mockery of justice. The proceedings were in Latin ; 
 and^ to the vulgar, nothing transpired, but the officious testi- 
 monies of venal bishops and obsequious nobles in vindication 
 of the monarch's conscience. After the first spontaneous ebul- 
 litions of sympathy for Catherine, public opinion began to incline 
 in favour of the King, who rested his claim on the popular 
 argument, that the Pope could not dispense with the laws of 
 Grod : whilst the Queen, instead of appealing to the principles 
 of humanity and justice, committed her cause to the indefeasible 
 authority of the church, — a doctrine that, in England, was every 
 day becoming less acceptable. At a second, and a third meet- 
 ing, the Queen answered not; Henry, therefore, after having, 
 to use the words of Cavendish, ^^ chafed Wolsey,'^ imperiously 
 dismissed him with an injunction to require from Catherine an 
 immediate compliance with his will. 
 
 The two cardinals repaired to the palace at Bridewell, where 
 they surprised Catherine with a skein of silk round her neck, 
 working with her maids. On announcing their mission, she at 
 first declined a private conference, and finally granted it only to 
 announce a firm and immovable determination to abide by the 
 decision of the court of Rome. Baffled in his hopes of a com- 
 promise, Henry importuned Campeggio for the decretal bull 
 which had been intrusted to his care. He knew not how sue- 
 
CAMPEGGIO'S DECISION. 225 
 
 cessfullj tlie imperial influence had been exerted to cancel this 
 document, nor suspected that Campeggio's son, Campana, lately 
 arrived in England, had been purposely sent from Rome to 
 insure its destruction. 
 
 At length the day arrived when Campeggio was to pronounce 
 the definitive sentence. Contrary to Anne Boleyn's fears and 
 predictions, Henry insisted he should obtain a favourable verdict ; 
 and such was his impatience to realize the anticipation, that he 
 privately stole to an apartment adjoining the hall, where he 
 could remain an unobserved spectator of the proceedings. The 
 King's case being closed, his counsel demanded judgment. An 
 anxious pause ensued ; whilst Campeggio, who had hitherto lis- 
 tened in profound silence, slowly rising from his chair, delibe- 
 rately pronounced the following oration : — 
 
 " I have with care and diligence examined whatever has been 
 alleged in the King's behalf; and, indeed, the arguments are 
 such, that I might not scruple to pronounce for the King, if 
 two reasons did not control and curb my desires to do his Ma- 
 jesty right. The Queen withdraws herself from the judgment 
 of the court, having before excepted against its supposed par- 
 tiality, inasmuch as, she says, nothing can be determined without 
 the consent of the Pontiff. Moreover, his Holiness, who is the 
 fountain and life of honour, hath, by a special messenger, given 
 us to understand, that he hath reserved this cause for his own 
 hearing; so that, if we were never so fair to proceed farther, 
 peradventure we cannot — I am sure we may not ; wherefore I 
 do here dissolve the court : and I beseech those whom this cause 
 concerns to take in good part what I have done. I am a feeble 
 old man, and see death so near me, that, in a matter of so great 
 consequence, neither hope nor fear, nor any other respect but 
 
226 HENRY'S RAGE. 
 
 •ear; ■ 
 
 that of the Supreme Judge^ before whom I am so soon to appear 
 shall sway me/^* 
 
 It is easy to imagine with what rage the King listened to this 
 evasive sentence. The assembly remained in mute consterna- 
 tion^ till the Duke of Suffolk, conscious of the King's invisible 
 presence, starting from his seat, exclaimed with vehemence, "It 
 was never well with England since these cardinals sat amongst 
 us I" Incensed at this insolence, Wolsey retorted with acri- 
 mony : the utmost confusion prevailed ; when Campeggio, who 
 alone preserved perfect composure, descending from his throne, 
 the audience dispersed to form their own conjectures respecting 
 the next steps to be taken to gratify the wishes of their offended 
 sovereign. 
 
 The first and immediate effect of Campeggio's verdict, was aug- 
 mented rigour towards Catherine ; against whom the Privy Coun- 
 cil fulminated an edict, recommending to the King " to absent 
 himself from her company, under pretence of her having lately 
 assumed cheerfulness, not regarding the King's melancholy and 
 discontent, which perverseness plainly showed she was the King's 
 enemy, and likely to conspire against his royal life. They there- 
 fore presumed, as good and faithful subjects, to admonish him 
 for his own sake to withdraw from her society and to remove the 
 Princess their daughter, from her evil example."']' 
 
 Henry had long been arbitrary; he now became cruel and 
 implacable. At his instigation, Wolsey placed spies among the 
 Queen's household, who watched her movements, and reported 
 her most simple speeches and inoffensive actions ; but the up- 
 rightness and caution of her character repelled treachery; and 
 during her complicated trials nothing escaped her lips from 
 
 * Godwin's History of Henry tlie Eighth. 
 
 f Collier. Burnet. * 
 
WOLSEY'S DISGRACE. 227 
 
 which the most ingenious casuistry could extract an accusation 
 of disobedience or sedition. 
 
 The next consequence of the verdict was Wolsey's disgrace. 
 Fortunately for Anne Boleyn, her sagacious father had long 
 since discovered to what point Campeggio's procrastination was 
 tending ; and, as he foresaw that the imperial agents must ulti- 
 mately succeed in preventing a papal dispensation, he concerted 
 a plan, by which the King should be provoked to defy the sove- 
 reign Pontiff, and to legitimate his marriage by an independent 
 authority. The first step in this enterprise was to remove Wolsey 
 from his counsels, an effort in which he was zealously seconded 
 by the cardinaFs enemies, and by his own agents and auxiliaries 
 in France and Italy. He had passively allowed Henry to exhale, 
 in rage, all the bitterness of his disappointment, till Sir William 
 Kingston and Lord Manners (afterwards Earl of Rutland) pro- 
 duced an intercepted letter,* which rendered it apparent that 
 the cardinal had encouraged the Pope to protract the suit, and 
 to withhold or suspend the divorce. This information, however 
 obtained. Sir Thomas Boleyn was enabled to confirm by other 
 testimony ; and whether these documents were forged or genuine, 
 the wished-for impulse was given to the offended sovereign, and 
 the favourite's fall decreed : the execution of the sentence was, 
 
 * Burnet asserts, tliat the intercepted letter was procured by the 
 agency of Sir Francis Brian, at Rome, and that Lord Rochford sub- 
 joined to it a declaration of his own sentiments ; but this appears to 
 have been a mistake ; Sir Francis Brian not being in Rome at that time. 
 The testimony of Sir William Kingston was derived from some other 
 source. That Henry had given credence to these proofs of his mi- 
 nistei-'s infidelity, appears, even from Cavendish, who describes the 
 King, at their last interview at Grafton, as putting to him some 
 questiouci respecting letters, which the cardinal negatived. 
 
228 EFFECTS OP THE VERDICT. 
 
 iiowever, suspended, partly from Henry's systematic duplicity, 
 and partly from that native obstinacy, which rendered him as 
 loth to retract an opinion as to relinquish a pursuit. It is even 
 probable, that the minister might still have averted his ruin, by 
 consenting to take upon himself the sole responsibility of the 
 divorce ; but the propitious moment was neglected, and he after- 
 wards looked in vain for the returning smiles of fortune. 
 
 The most important circumstance that resulted from Campeg- 
 gio's subterfuge, was the accession of strength that it brought 
 to the reforming party ; with whom the King himself was com- 
 pelled to coalesce, to raise a barrier to the Pope's unlimited 
 supremacy. From that memorable day, when the legate had 
 delivered his opinion, the tide of national sympathy flowed in 
 unison with Henry's feelings. From pride and patriotism, the 
 nobility resented the transference of the cause to Rome; the 
 citizens murmured at the intrusion of a foreign judicature; the 
 provincial gentry echoed the opinions of the nobility ; the peers, 
 with the exception of the bishops, were ready to concur with 
 the commons, in the exposition and abolition of those abuses 
 of ecclesiastical power, which had long oppressed both the higher 
 and lower orders of the community. By a new and rapid revo- 
 lution of sentiment, the court sanctioned and even patronized 
 the doctrine of anti-papal resistance, lately confined almost ex- 
 clusively to the small, despised, persecuted sect of Lollards or 
 Lutherans, to whom the most precious of all earthly possessions 
 was the Bible, which was neither to be obtained nor preserved, 
 but with the utmost peril, and which had been consecrated by 
 the tears and even the life-blood of its martyred disciples. It 
 was not a little singular to trace any correspondence of language 
 or sentiment in the favourites of Henry the Eighth, with those 
 
THE LUTHERANS. 229 
 
 primitive single-minded people, whose kingdom was not of this 
 world, and who placed all their happiness and glory in worship- 
 ping God according to the dictates of reason and conscience. 
 On the dissolution of the Consistorial Court, however, some of 
 those heretical truths, which were connected with secular inte- 
 rests, obtained many noble champions and defenders, and whilst 
 Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, deprecated the interference of popes 
 and cardinals, the Duke of Norfolk, though bigoted in his attach- 
 ment to the Romish hierarcky, eagerly co-operated in destroying 
 "Wolsey, by whom alone its interests could be supported ; Lord 
 Kochford and his daughter insensibly softened the King's anti- 
 pathy to the new learning, by which appellation was stigmatized 
 every doctrine opposed to the old superstitions; the young cava- 
 liers assailed with ridicule the monks and the monasteries ; and 
 Wiatt is said to have dissipated Henry's most inveterate preju- 
 dice against heresy, by humorously exclaiming, ^^ Good Lord ! 
 to think that a man must not repent of his sins, without the 
 Pope's leave." The pleasantry was relished; for the King 
 laughed, and, two or three days after, when the same idea was 
 suggested in Cranmer's well-known proposition of procuring 
 subscriptions from the most celebrated universities in Europe, 
 it obtained the most cordial and unequivocal approbation. Cran- 
 mer was summoned to Court — at the first glance engaged Henry's 
 partiality ; and having composed an essay in defence of the 
 divorce, was sent to advocate the cause in Italy and Germany. 
 
 Exhilarated by new hopes of success, the King commenced a 
 progress to Woodstock, attended by Catherine,* and accompa- 
 nied by Anne Boleyn. With whatever repugnance the unhappy 
 Queen submitted to tlie intrusion of her rival, she too well 
 
 ^ UaU. 
 20 
 
230 WOLSEY'S ENEMIES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 knew, tliat to her presence, however unwelcome, she was in- 
 debted for even the little complacency with which she continued 
 to he treated by her discontented husband : nor was this envied 
 rival less alive to the mortification of resuming that subordinate 
 station which she had hoped to quit for ever ; but she was sen- 
 sible that the exigencies of the moment required the sacrifice of 
 pride and temper, and that her agency was indispensable to 
 counteract those arts by which the cardinal sought to regain 
 his master's favour. To achieve this minister's disgrace was 
 equally the object of the Catholic Duke of Norfolk, and the 
 half-Lutheran Duke of Sufi"olk : with this view, the anti-papal, 
 and anti-imperial parties had coalesced, and rallied round Anne 
 for patronage and protection. Even the zeal with which she 
 attached herself to the former obtained indulgence from its 
 opponents, who, in cherishing the declared enemy of Wolsey, 
 forgave, or overlooked, the advocate of the Reformation. It 
 may be remarked, that, of all who armed against Wolsey, Anne 
 Boleyn alone had the stronger motive of self-defence to impel 
 her to seek his ruin : from others he might intercept favour or 
 preferment, but to her he had been interposed as a fatal and in- 
 superable barrier to greatness and felicity ; nor could she shut 
 her eyes to the conviction, that, by his perfidious promises of 
 friendship, she had been placed in a situation the most tanta- 
 lizing and precarious. With sentiments such as these, what was 
 her mortification, to be apprised that Cardinal Campeggio was 
 approaching Grafton (to bid the King farewell), accompanied by 
 Wolsey, who obviously still hoped to regain the confidence of 
 his offended sovereign ! Anne's first impression was alarm; but 
 it subsided to contempt, when the courtiers, already exulting in 
 his downfall, insisted that he would be excluded from the royal 
 presence. 
 
HIS RECEPTION BY HENRY. 231 
 
 On his arrival, it was cvideut that uo preparation had been 
 made for his reception ; and whilst Campeggio was ushered into 
 a stately chamber, his colleague was indebted to the spontaneous 
 kindness of Sir Henry Norris for even a temporary accommoda- 
 tion. Accustomed to exist in the artificial atmosphere of pride 
 and flattery, Wolsey hardly knew how to believe he owed so 
 much to an individual, whom he had hitherto considered as per- 
 fectly insignificant ; but collecting all his firmness, he proceeded 
 with his accustomed self-j)ossession to the presence-chamber. At 
 his entrance, the courtiers smiled, anticipating with malig- 
 nant joy his confusion and disgrace. Some had betted that the 
 King would not even address him ; others whispered an ominous 
 interpretation of his supposed silence. Great, therefore, was 
 their surprise, when they perceived that Henry welcomed both 
 cardinals with equal cordiality ; and yet greater was their dis- 
 may, when, taking Wolsey's hand, he led him into a recess beneath 
 a window, where, aloof from all the circle, they stood side by 
 side, in low but earnest conversation. Finally, both legates 
 were dismissed with courtesy, but Henry commanded Wolsey to 
 meet him again in the evening. When the cardinal withdrew, 
 a sudden change of aspect was perceived in the astonished cour- 
 tiers ; and they mechanically resumed the attentions commonly 
 offered to the omnipotent favourite, who retraced his steps in 
 triumph. The Dukes of SuiFolk and Norfolk were the first to 
 bear to Anne Boleyn the unwelcome tidings. Naturally high- 
 spirited and ingenuous, she could ill disguise her vexation at 
 Henry's conduct, which, to her quick apprehension, argued no- 
 thing less than the total dereliction of his late engagements. 
 The King, who, in his progresses, indulged himself with the 
 liberty of choosing his own party, that day dined in her apart- 
 
232 WOLSEY'S EVENING VISIT TO HENRY. 
 
 ne-3."' 
 
 ment,* wliere, even at table; she so little controlled her feelings, 
 that; even in the presence of the waiters, she audaciously ar- 
 raigned the cardinal's maladministration; reprobated the heavy 
 loans he had contracted in the sovereign's name, to the preju- 
 dice of the subject ; " Had my father; or unclC; or the Duke of 
 Suffolk; adventured but half as much; he would have lost his 
 head." Amused, if not flattered; by this inquietude; Henry 
 suffered her to proceed, with no other comment, than that he 
 perceived she was not the cardinal's friend ; to which she re- 
 joined; ^^I have no cause; or any that love you; no more hath 
 your G-racC; if you did but well consider his indirect and unlaw- 
 ful doings." Not even the flattering insinuation conveyed in 
 these words prevented Henry from admitting Wolsey to an even- 
 ing conference of two hours, during which Anne endured; by 
 anticipation; all the torments of disappointed ambition. She 
 dreaded the renewal of Henry's scruples to those measures, 
 which he had with difficulty been induced to adopt. She remem- 
 bered; with terror; his former vacillation and inconsistency; and 
 believed her cause lost for ever; if Wolsey were restored to his 
 confidence. The anti-ministerial party gathered round her; and 
 the interval was spent in anxious deliberation. At length the 
 cardinal departed by torch-light ; but not before another appoint- 
 ment had been made for the next morning. At this news Anne 
 lost hope and patience : she seemed not to have knowU; or not 
 to have remembered; that Henry smiled on those whom he pre- 
 destined to destruction ; nor did she calculate what powerful 
 reasons might induce him to dissemble; when prudence suggested 
 the propriety of concealing the alteration in his sentiments from 
 
 * In general Henry dined with his Queen ; but during a progress 
 they might occasionally be separated. 
 
ANNE'S INFLUENCE OVER HENRY. 233 
 
 Campeggio, who was about to return to Rome, where he still 
 flattered himself he might obtain a favourable judgment. It is 
 also probable, that he wished to ascertain how far the cardinal 
 had really been accessary to his late disappointment. That he 
 accused him of clandestine correspondence with the Pope, is 
 acknowledged even by Cavendish, who heard his master in gene- 
 ral terms disclaim the charge. The King, at the moment, might 
 seem satisfied ; but, in him, suspicion was not easily allayed : 
 and although he dismissed the minister with kindness, evidently 
 never meant to renew their friendship. In the morning, when 
 AVolsey returned at the hour appointed, the King, recollecting an 
 engagement with Anne, parted from him with courtesy too stu- 
 died to deceive a practised courtier. Offended at this new in- 
 stance of duplicity, Anne betrayed, by her countenance, that in- 
 dignation she ventured not to express, and darting on "Wolsey a 
 glance of mingled anger and disdain, passed on, without vouch- 
 safing the least obeisance. 
 
 After the cardinal's departure, no one remained to undermine 
 or counteract the influence of Anne Boleyn. In walking and 
 riding, she was the King's chosen companion, the depositary of 
 all his cares and vexations, the inventress of his amusements, 
 the dispenser of his pleasures. In obtaining and preserving 
 this empire, Anne discovered powers of understanding, far dif- 
 ferent from those superficial though seducing accomplishments, 
 with which she had first captivated his affections. Of her 
 strength of character, she is said, during this progress, to have 
 given a convincing proof, by persuading Henry to visit a spot 
 in Woodstock Forest, which had the reputation of being haunted, 
 and of which there was a prediction extant, that the king who 
 approached it would not survive. Although Henry was natu- 
 
234 FALL OF WOLSEY. 
 
 rally superstitious, she had the eloquence and address to induce 
 him to confront the chimerical danger, and enjoyed the triumph 
 he had obtained over his fantastic terrors.* It might have been 
 apprehended that the King would scarcely tolerate any supe- 
 riority in a woman ; but, at this time, he had not entirely lost 
 the sensibilities of youth ; his early prepossessions had been fa- 
 vourable to the female character : to his grandmother, the cele- 
 brated Countess of Derby, he had been accustomed to yield 
 implicit deference ; the example of his mother, and his wife, had 
 taught him to require a high standard of female virtue ; nor were 
 there wanting, among the distinguished women of that age, in- 
 dividuals who might sanction the pretensions of their sex to 
 intellectual equality. But neither in Margaret of Savoy, nor 
 Margaret of Navarre, had the union of sense and softness, of 
 gaiety and reserve, been so attractively blended as in Anne 
 Boleyn. Among all her superior attractions, however, there 
 was perhaps none so well calculated to confirm the King's attach- 
 ment, as that she was strikingly contrasted with the superstitious 
 Catherine, nor is it impossible, but that he was the more readily 
 induced to make the effort to overcome any weakness in which 
 she participated. 
 
 Within a month after his final interview with the King at 
 Grafton, the cardinal was deprived of the Grreat Seal, and stripped 
 of his treasures; to escape imprisonment, he confessed himself 
 guilty of premuniTe/^ and surrendered to the King all his pos- 
 sessions. Appeased by submission, Henry condescended, from 
 
 * Fox. 
 
 f By virtue of the statute of Richard the Second, against the 
 supremacy of ecclesiastical over civil courts. The King had, however, 
 himself sanctioned Wolsey's acceptance of the legatine authority. 
 
HIS RETIREMENT. 235 
 
 time to time^ to send liini assurances of friendsliip ; but evinced 
 the insincerity of these professions, by allowing the Commons to 
 exhibit against him articles of impeachment, which were, how- 
 ever, repelled and refuted by his secretary, Cromwel. The car- 
 dinal met not calamity with manly firmness : ever vacillating 
 between the love of power and of fame, he professed a desire to 
 leave the world, assumed a hermit's garb, entered the monastery 
 of Shene, and accidentally lodged in the room formerly occupied 
 by Dean Colet, that virtuous and disinterested advocate for know- 
 ledge and truth, whose supreme ambition was, not to dazzle, but 
 improve and bless mankind. Whether Wolgey was here visited by 
 compunctious recollections of his former abuse of power and pros- 
 perity, or whether the nobler energies of his nature resumed their 
 ascendancy, he became seriously anxious to perpetuate some 
 claims to the gratitude of posterity, and earnestly implored the 
 King to spare, at least, the colleges of Ipswich, and Oxford, 
 which, under his auspices, had been erected ; but to this petition, 
 was annexed another, more consonant with mundane vanity, 
 " that he would be pleased to allow the superb monument, con- 
 structed for him by the famous Benedetto,* to be his future 
 tomb," to which he was, he said, "from the heaviness of his 
 soul, fast descending/' That he was not sincere in his renunci- 
 ation of the world, may with reason be inferred, from his abject 
 supplications to Anne Boleyn, through the medium of Cromwel ; 
 to whom, according to Cavendish, she gave gentle words, although 
 she resolutely and wisely refused a mediation, by which she 
 must have compromised the interests of the reforming party. 
 
 * Benedetto, a statuary at Florence, was employed by "Wolsey to 
 construct his monument, to ■which Antony Cavellei'i was to furnish the 
 gilding ; which, though unfinished, had already cost 4250 ducats. This 
 monument was seized hy Henry, hut never completed. 
 
236 WOLSEY'S CATHOLICISM. 
 
 It may be doubted whether even her intercession would have 
 availed^ after Henry had . once gratified his rapacity with the 
 spoils of his former favourite^ who was however at length par 
 doncd and dismissed to his archiepiscopal see of York, and the 
 comparative poverty of four thousand per annum. 
 
 Thus fell the first, perhaps the only despotic minister of Henry 
 the Eighth. His character has been often portrayed ; hut one 
 of its most remarkable features, that overweening respect for the 
 Church, which disposed him to hold all other objects and duties 
 subordinate to its dignity, appears to have been generally over- 
 looked or forgotten. Paradoxical as it may seem, the austere 
 Becket was not more zealous to vindicate the prerogative and 
 exalt the honours of ecclesiastical supremacy, than the gay, vo- 
 luptuous, and insinuating Wolsey. It was the master-passion of 
 his soul to restore to its former omnipotence that papal throne, 
 of which he always hoped to obtain the sovereignty. Even his 
 love of learning, in other respects the emanation of a munificent 
 spirit, was modified by this sentiment. In founding colleges, he 
 sought but to raise ornaments for the pulpit. To the laity he 
 left the comforts of ignorance ; and, resisting every effort to en- 
 lighten the people, watched over political and theological publi- 
 cations with a jealousy not unworthy of the holy office,* and 
 directed against such as were either suspected or detected of 
 
 * This vigilance was more particularly directed against political 
 strictures. In 1527, he took cognisance of a Christmas interlude, per- 
 formed at Gray's Inn, of which the argument was, that Lord Gover- 
 nance was ruled by Lady Dissipation and Lady Negligence, by whose mis- 
 rule Ladj Public Weale was put from Governance, which caused Rumor 
 Pojpuli to rise vi et armis, to expel Negligence, and restore Public Weale 
 to her castle. The compiler of this piece, which was greatly ap- 
 plauded, was committed to the Fleet. 
 
HIS SUCCESSORS. ^ 237 
 
 heretical pravityj a rigorous prosecution. It escaped not AVol- 
 sey's penetration^ that it was from the same ray of light that 
 emanated civil and religious liberty; and his abhorrence of 
 Lutheranism flowed perhaps from the impression^ that the rights 
 of conscience were • inseparable from the common rights of hu- 
 manity : yet his political sagacity failed to discover, that the 
 persecution, by which the heretic was devoted to the flames, 
 threw a sacred halo over those doctrines he would have impugned, 
 and consecrated to pity that sect which he abhorred. 
 
 On the ruins of Wolsey's colossal greatness arose four minis- 
 ters of various talents and pretensions. The first was Gardiner, 
 his former dependant and confidant; who had originally pur- 
 sued the law, but afterwards entered the Church, for which he 
 showed attachment when he became Bishop of Winchester. 
 Born with that penetration which almost assumes the character 
 of prescience, it was his privilege, that, whilst he unravelled and 
 explained air other minds, he remained himself inscrutable to 
 observation. His duplicity was, however, not always criminal, 
 since he ceased not to serve Wolsey with fidelity, when he 
 entered into a clandestine correspondence with Anne Boleyn. 
 Prompt and decided, with no scruples of conscience, no emotions 
 of humanity, he was formed to execute the will of his imperious 
 sovereign. An ingenious sophist, whatever was the subject of 
 discussion, his argument flowed with facility; and it is notorious 
 that he wrote, almost at the same time, to support the Pope's supre- 
 niacy and the King's independence. He detested the Reformation, 
 yet promoted the marriage of Anne Boleyn ; and artfully adapted 
 his principles, or rather his prejudices, to the exigencies of the 
 moment. 
 
 Next to Gardiner, and infimtely superior to him in energy and 
 
238 SIR THOMAS MORE. 
 
 vigour^ was Cromwel; tlie secretary of Wolsey^ who, by under- 
 taking his master's defence in Parliament, ushered forward his 
 own talents, and excited a general prepossession in his favour. 
 Nature had formed this man for great emergencies. Of mean 
 birth* and vulgar education, he joined the army in Flanders as 
 a volunteer, and by his bravery and indigence attracted the no- 
 tice of a humane merchant named Frescobald, who recommended 
 him to Wolsey's service ; and to whom he afterwards well repaid 
 the debt of gratitude. Quickness and diligence supplied in him 
 the deficiencies of early education ; society polished his mind and 
 manners ; and he became, if not a classical, an eloquent English 
 orator. Cromwel was no churchman, nor did he imbibe Wolsey's 
 predilections for Roman supremacy ; yet his attachment to the 
 Reformation evidently flowed from political calculations. After 
 Wolsey's banishment, he had frequent access to Henry, to whom 
 he boldly demonstrated the advantages to be derived from an 
 abolition of the Pope's power, and the suppression of certain 
 ecclesiastical privileges. Henry relished the suggestion, and, 
 under the title of Yicar-general, (derived from the Pope,) 
 Cromwel was eventually to subvert the Pope's Anglican juris- 
 diction. 
 
 In the dignified office of Chancellor, or, as it was then desig- 
 nated. Lord Keeper, Wolsey was succeeded by Sir Thomas More, 
 a man well born and liberally educated, imbued with the spirit 
 of classical literature, celebrated for his wit and learning, and 
 exemplary in all the domestic relations of life. He had applied 
 
 * Cromwel was tlie son of a blacksmith ; for his diligence in sup- 
 pressing monasteries, he was created Baron Cromwel ; for his exertions 
 in making the match between Henry and the Lady Anne of Cleves, he 
 was first raised to the dignity of Earl of Essex, and then beheaded. 
 
CRANMER. 239 
 
 to the study of law with success, and was justly revered for his 
 professional integrity, and domestic virtues ; but these admirable 
 qualities were tarnished by bigotry, not more repugnant to his 
 native dispositions than unworthy of his understanding. Alarmed 
 at the progress of Lutheranism, he was weak enough to imagine 
 that the exercise of reason was to be suspended by the sword and 
 the flame ; that the ever-active and progressive principle of the 
 human mind was to be arrested by decrees and statutes, and 
 persecutions alike repugnant to sound policy and genuine piety. 
 It is a melancholy reflection, that More's sanguinary adminis- 
 tration almost obliterated the memory of Wolsey's rigours, and 
 that the stigma of cruelty and pusillanimity is thus affixed to a 
 name, which must otherwise have commanded the veneration and 
 inspired the gratitude of posterity.* 
 
 Of a difierent complexion was Cranmer ; a priest, unfitted for 
 his profession by his social instincts, his lively sympathies, and 
 large capacities for tenderness and ben-evolence. In early youth 
 he had sacrificed ambition to love, by marrying the object of his 
 choice, who survived not long this proof of devoted attachment : 
 on her death, believing himself for ever weaned from domestic 
 afi"ections, he re-entered the church, and after due probation pro- 
 
 * In Strype, Fox, and Collier, -will be found various examples of Sir 
 Thomas More's severity. For the spirit with which he regarded heresy, 
 we have his own authority, in the following passage: — "That which 
 I professc in my epitaph, is, that I have been troublesome to heretics. 
 I have done it with a little ambition, for I so hate them, these kind of 
 men, that I would be their sorest enemy that I could, if they will not 
 repent ; for I find them such men, and so to increase every day, that I 
 even greatly fear the world will be undone by them." Dialogues on 
 Heretics. — With such sentiments it was impossible but that More 
 should be the inveterate enemy of Anne Boleyn. 
 
240 CRANMER. 
 
 nounced the irrevocable vows. From learning and eloquence he 
 obtained but barren praise, till having accepted the situation of 
 tutor in Mr. Cressey^s family by the fortunate intervention of 
 Fox and Gardiner, he was introduced to the notice of Henry, 
 by whom he was retained, to advocate the divorce, and defend 
 the cause at Rome, and in Grermany. The life of Cranmer was 
 not without romantic incidents : during his residence on the 
 Continent, he discovered that he still possessed a heart suscepti- 
 ble of tender impressions. Associated under the same roof with 
 the amiable niece of Osiander,* he once more questioned the 
 right of the church to divorce its ministers from the best and 
 dearest charities of life. In Grermany the most eminent divines 
 had abjured the monkish vows of celibacy ; and Cranmer, find- 
 ing nothing in Scripture to enforce the obligation, was privately 
 united to the object of his affections, little foreseeing he should 
 hereafter renounce the name of husband to accept the primacy 
 of England.")" 
 
 There is something in the character of Cranmer that disap- 
 points expectation, and leads us to suspect his naturally noble 
 and ingenuous mind had been enervated by premature prosperity. 
 On great occasions he evinced both fortitude and magnanimity ; 
 but to the minor trials and temptations of life, he brought not 
 the firmness and intrepidity displayed by some prelatical con- 
 temporaries. It may, however, be observed, if he knew not to 
 
 * A celebrated Lutheran divine. 
 
 f By this lady, who privately followed him to England, he had 
 several children : she lived with him many years as his known though 
 not acknowledged wife, till the promulgation of the six articles by 
 Henry compelled him to send her back to Germany, where she con- 
 tinued, till the accession of Edward the Sixth. 
 
STATE OF MORALS. 241 
 
 suffer like Fisher, nor to resist with Latimer, he possessed higher 
 capacities of understanding than these ascetic devotees, and that 
 he was perhaps too enlightened, and even too benevolent to par- 
 ticipate in that fanatical or bigoted zeal, sometimes associated 
 with sublime heroism and magnanimous integrity. For hu- 
 manity, and the gentler virtues of civilized society, Cranmer was 
 eminently conspicuous, and of all the early English reformers, 
 appears most to have been misplaced in the court of Henry the 
 Eighth, and the age of Charles the Fifth. Of the low state of 
 morals in Europe, at this period, the mission to the universities 
 affords decisive proof, since in France, and even in Italy, where 
 the new doctrines had been strenuously opposed, and the Pope's 
 infallibility was upheld as the palladium of Christianity, sub- 
 scriptions were easily purchased for the King's cause. Henry's 
 gold prevailed more than Gardiner's eloquence; and not only 
 from the University of Toulouse, but from those of Padua and 
 Bologna, a declaration was obtained the most derogatory to their 
 professed principles.* 
 
 Subscriptions were not procured with the same facility in 
 Germany, where, according to the maxims of worldly policy, no 
 opposition could have been anticipated from the Lutherans, who 
 had cogent motives for seeking to conciliate one of the most 
 powerful princes in Europe. ■[■ Yet neither bribery nor persua- 
 
 * It is in vain, that Burnet attempts to persuade himself and his 
 readers, that Henry's cause was not supported by bribery : the records 
 of Strype and Collier attest the fact ; and it appears from the cor- 
 respondence of Cardinal du Bellai, that the decisions of the French 
 universities were influenced not only by gold, but the authority of their 
 monarch. 
 
 f Of this marked difference between the Catholics and the Lutherans, 
 21 
 
242 THE CLERGY. 
 
 sion could extort from them subscriptions or declarations which 
 they internally condemned as repugnant to the principles of 
 equity and justice. Even Luther, although he censured Henry's 
 marriage with Catherine; reprobated the divorce. Other eminent 
 divines contended for the preservation of the Queen's rights, and 
 those of her offspring. Such was the moral feeling inspired by 
 the pursuit of truth ; such the integrity of men, who had learned 
 to exercise reason, uncontrolled by authority, in defiance of per- 
 secution ! 
 
 In England it was not without management that the two uni- 
 versities were rendered subservient to the royal will. Alarmed 
 by the disaffection lately manifested to their body by the King 
 and parliament, the English clergy clung to the ark of Rome, 
 with the vain hope of protecting abuses which the superstition 
 of* former ages had consecrated, but which were now execrated 
 and abhorred. These terrors were not unfounded. At the in- 
 
 the learned Croke furnishes a curious illustration in tlie following let- 
 ter, dated Venice : — 
 
 " My fidelity bindeth me to advertize your Highness, that all Lu- 
 therans be utterly against your cause, and have letted as much with 
 their wretched power, malice without reason or authority, as they 
 could, and might, as well here as in Padua and Germany. I doubt not 
 but all Christian universities, if they be well handled, will earnestly 
 conclude with your Highness. As from the seignory and dominion of 
 Venice, towards Rome, and beyond Rome, I think there can be no 
 more done than is done already. Albeit, I have besides this seal pro- 
 cured unto your Highness an hundred and ten subscriptions, yet it 
 had been nothing in comparison of that I might easily have done. At 
 this hour, I assure you, I have neither provision nor money, and have 
 borrowed an hundred crowns, the which also are spent." — He con- 
 cludes by imploring him not to suffer the cause to be lost for want of 
 pecuniary supplies. 
 
THE CLERGY. 243 
 
 stigation of Cromwel, six bills were introduced into the Com- 
 mons, directly levelled against the evils created by ecclesiastical 
 prerogatives.* 
 
 Involved in Wolsey's delinquency of premunirej the clergy 
 not only submitted to the penalty of a hundred thousand pounds, 
 but recognised the sovereign as supreme head of the church ; 
 the parliament had next been inculpated, but received a gracious 
 pardon, and the King's debts to the people were cancelled.f At 
 
 * It is curious to trace, in the preamble of this bill, a positive con- 
 firmation of all the arguments advanced in the Supplication of Beg- 
 gars against Popery : — 1st, The oppressive fines extorted by the or- 
 dinary for the probates of wills : 2d, Extreme rigour in exacting mortu- 
 aries : od. The vexatious rapacity of stewards to bishops : 4th, The in- 
 ti'usion of abbots and priests in keeping tan-houses, buying and sell- 
 ing cloth and wool, like other merchants : 5th, That the incumbent of 
 a good benefice was commonly maintained in some nobleman's family, 
 regardless of the spiritual or temporal interests of his flock : 6th, The 
 plurality of livings, by which many an illiterate priest was maintained 
 in affluence, whilst many a learned scholar could not obtain a liveli- 
 hood. Adverting to the extortion for mortuaries, it is said, ''though 
 the children of the defunct should go begging, they would take from 
 him even the seely cow which the dead man owed them." As an in- 
 stance of the excessive exaction for probates of wills, it is mentioned 
 that Sir Henry Guildford, as executor to Sir "William Compton's will, 
 paid to the Archbishop of Canterbury the enormous sum of one thou- 
 sand marks. 
 
 f The following extract from that spirited tract, the Beggars' Sup- 
 plication against Popery, appears to be a genuine transcript of the 
 popular impression against the enormous usurpations of the clergy. 
 This tract, suppressed by Wolsey and More, was privately sent to 
 Anne Boleyn, who relished it so much, that she ventured to impart it 
 to Henry. The King liked the work, but at that time ventured not to 
 avow his sentiments. In 1538 it was openly presented to him at court, 
 
244 THE CLERGY. 
 
 another time this fraud would have called forth popular indigna- 
 tion; but such was the general satisfaction produced by the 
 seasonable relief from ecclesiastical oppression, that the mur- 
 
 and is confessedly one of the most eloquent productions of that period. 
 The close of the exordium presents a curious mixture of pedantry and 
 argument : — 
 
 " These are not the herds for sheep, but the ravenous wolves going 
 in herds' clothing, devouring the flock. The bishops, abbots, priors, 
 deacons, archdeacons, suflFragans, priests, monks, canons, friars, par- 
 doners, and somners, and who is able to number this idle ravenous 
 S'ort, (which setting all labour aside) have begged so importunately, 
 that they have gotten into their hands more than the third part of all 
 your realm. The goodliest lordships, manors, lands, and territories 
 are theirs. Besides this, they have the tenth part of all the corn, 
 meadow, pasture, grass, wool, colts, calves, lambs, pigs, geese and 
 chickens ; over and besides the tenth part of every servant's wages, 
 the tenth part of the wool, milk, honey, wax, cheese, and butter ; yea, 
 they look so narrowly upon their profits, that the poor wives must be 
 accountable to them for every tenth egg, or else she getteth not her 
 rights at Easter, and shall be taken as an heretick. Hereto have they 
 their four offering-days. What money pull they in by probates of tes- 
 taments, privy tithes, and by men's offerings to their pilgrimages ! 
 And at their first masses, every man and child that is buried must pay 
 somewhat for masses and dirges to be sung for him, or else they will 
 accuse the dead's friends and executors of heresy! What money get 
 they by mortuaries, by hearing of confessions, (and yet they will keep 
 thereof no counsel), by hallowing of churches, altars, super-altars, 
 chapels, and bells ; by cursing of men and absolving them again for 
 money ! What multitudes of money gather the pardoners in a year, 
 by citing the people to the Commissaries Court, and afterwards releas- 
 ing the appearance for money ! Finally, the infinite number of beggar- 
 friars, what get they in a year ! 
 
 "Here, if it please your grace to mark, we shall see a thing far 
 out of joint: — there are, within your realm of England, fifty- two parish 
 
THE CLERGY. 245 
 
 niiirs of discontent wore soon suppressed; and Henry, in satis- 
 fying his immeasurable rapacity, inspired the gratitude due only 
 to a generous benefactor. 
 
 cliurches, and this standing ; that there be but ten households in every 
 parish, yet are there five hundred thousand and twenty thousand house- 
 holds, and of every of these households hath every of the five orders 
 of friars a penny a quarter for every order ; tnat is, for all the five 
 orders, five-pence a quarter for every house ; that is, for all the five 
 orders, twenty pence a year for every house ; summa totalis forty-four 
 thousand pounds ; and three hundred and thirty-three pounds six 
 shillings and eight-pence sterling, whereof not four hundred years 
 past, they had not one penny. Oh ! grievous and painful exactions, 
 thus yearly to be paid, from which the people of your noble predeces- 
 sors, the kings of the ancient Britons, ever stood free ! 
 
 *' And this will they have, or else they will procure him that will not 
 give it them to be taken as an heretic. What tyranny ever oppressed 
 the people like this cruel and vengable generation? What subjects 
 shall be able to help their prince, that be after this fashion yearly 
 polled ? What good Christian prince can be able to succour us poor 
 lepers, blind, sore, and lame, that be thus yearly oppressed ? Is it 
 any marvel that your people so complain of poverty ? Is it any marvel 
 that the taxes, fifteenths, and subsidies, that your Grace most tenderly 
 of great compassion hath taken from among your people, to defend 
 them from the threatened ruin of your commonwealth, seeing that 
 almost the uttermost penny that might have been levied hath been 
 gathered before, verily, by this ravenous, cruel, and insatiable genera- 
 tion ? — The Danes, neither the Saxons, in the times of the antient 
 Britons, should never have been able to have brought their armies from 
 so far hither, and to your land, to have conquered it, if they had, at 
 that time, such a sort of idle gluttons to find at home; — the noble 
 King Arthur had never been able to have carried his army to the foot 
 of the mountains to resist the coming down of Lucius the emperor, if 
 such yearly exactions had been taken of his people ; — the Greeks had 
 21* 
 
246 REMONSTRANCES. 
 
 From this commencement the reformers drew the most auspi- 
 cious presage. Henry's passions were enlisted in their cause; 
 and he was too much delighted to have discovered an unex- 
 pected mine of wealthy to listen to the denunciations of Fisher, 
 or the warning of Wolsey, who constantly identified the adver- 
 saries of the Church with the subverters of government, and 
 bequeathed a solemn charge against the Lutherans.* To pre- 
 
 never been able to have so long continued at tlie siege of Troy, if they 
 had had such an idle sort of cormorants to find ; — the antient Romans 
 had never been able to put all the world under their obeisance, if their 
 people had been thus oppressed ; — the Turk, now in your time, should 
 never be able to get so much ground of Christendom, if he had in his 
 empire such a sort of locusts to devour his substance : lay then these 
 sums to the aforesaid third part of the possessions of the realm, that 
 you may see whether it draw nigh to the half of the whole substance 
 of the realm or not; so shall you find that it draweth far above." 
 
 "'^ The Cardinal died at Leicester, 1530, as he was journeying to Lon- 
 don to take his trial on a new charge of high treason. By a singular 
 chance it devolved on Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, Anne 
 Boleyn's unfortunate lover, to take into custody his former lord. Wolsey 
 was preparing for his installation in York cathedral, which was to be 
 celebrated with a magnificence never before witnessed in that remote 
 county. On hearing of the Earl's arrival, he expressed the most cor- 
 dial satisfaction, and affectionately embraced him, regretting that he 
 had not been better prepared for his reception. The Earl, who was 
 ill-suited to his ofi&ce, pale and trembling, in scarcely articulate accents, 
 said, " I arrest you." The cardinal refused to recognise his authority; 
 but on seeing Sir William Kingston, surrendered to him without re- 
 sistance. Both his jailers endeavoured to dissipate his apprehensions, 
 and to persuade him that the King merely wished to afford him an op- 
 portunity of exculpating his conduct. AVithout hesitation the cardinal 
 commenced his journey; but soon finding himself too ill to proceed, 
 prepared for death, conversing to his last moments with that persuasive 
 
DEATH OF WOLSEY. 247 
 
 vent a total breach with the court of Rome, the principal nobi- 
 lity and clergy addressed a remonstrance to Clement, in which, 
 after having stated the decisions of the universities in favour of 
 the divorce, they protested, that by withholding his consent, he 
 would compel the King and his subjects to withdraw from his 
 paternal protection. To this paper Wolsey had perhaps refused 
 to affix his signature ; and whether Henry was exasperated by 
 his obstinacy, or suspicious of his loyalty, articles of treason 
 were exhibited against him ; and, but for the seasonable arrival 
 of death, he would have been conducted to the Tower, to linger 
 in misery, or expire with shame. The death of Wolsey accele- 
 rated not the divorce ; but Henry still kept his court at Green- 
 wich, with Queen Catherine, and still solaced himself with the 
 society of Anne Boleyn. 
 
 During two years, the King had alternately employed me- 
 naces and solicitations, to obtain the sanction of a papal dispensa- 
 tion. Convinced, at length, that his applications were wholly 
 unavailing, in the sessions of 1532, he caused the declarations 
 of the several universities* to be communicated to the parlia- 
 
 eloquence wMch had so often bewitched the sovereign who now de- 
 creed his fate. In his concluding speech to Kingston, who had been, 
 unknown to him, his secret enemy, he made an allusion to the cause 
 of his misfortunes, which countenances the idea that he had originally- 
 suggested to Henry the possibility of effecting the divorce: "There- 
 fore, Mr. Kingston, I warn you, if it chance you hereafter to be of his 
 privy council, as for your wisdom you are very mete, be well assured 
 and advised what you put in his head, for ye shall never put it out 
 again." — AYordsworth's Edition of Cavendish's Life of Wolsey. 
 
 * The universities of Orleans, Paris, Anjou, Toulouse, Blois, Bo- 
 logna, and Padua, Oxford and Cambridge. That Henry did not submit 
 the question to the discussion of parliament is evident, from the man- 
 
248 'dismissal of CATHERINE. 
 
 ment ; after whicli a deputation from their body waited on the 
 Queen, to persuade and admonish her to submit to the laws of 
 G-od. But Catherine persisting in her former answer, she was 
 warned ^^that the King would in future he advised to abstain 
 altogether from her society/' Notwithstanding this denuncia- 
 tion, however, Henry appears to have celebrated with her the 
 Easter festival at Windsor ; after which he signified his pleasure, 
 that she should remove to another place. To this injunction she 
 yielded implicit obedience, and repaired first to More Park, and 
 afterwards to East Hampstead; whilst the King, more than 
 ever perplexed, withdrew from convivial society, and neglected 
 all ordinary amusements, to devise some feasible expedient for 
 realizing his intended marriage. With his parliament he deigned 
 not to consult ; either because he discovered not in their body 
 the competence to ofi"er any decision on the question, or because 
 he distrusted the validity of statutes, which experience had 
 taught him might be confirmed or cancelled at pleasure by a suc- 
 ceeding administration. Hitherto it had rather been by acci- 
 dent than choice, if he met the views of the reforming party; 
 but the Pope's inflexibility left him no other resource than a 
 vigorous adoption of their principles. In prohibiting the con- 
 tribution of annates or first-fruits, he made another attack on the 
 authority of the supreme Pontiff, which, coming in the shape of 
 
 ner in -which the Lord Chancellor dismissed them: — "Now you, in this 
 Commons house, may report in your counties what you have seen and 
 heard, and then all men shall openly perceive that the King hath not 
 attempted this matter of will and pleasure, as some strangers report, 
 but only for the discharge of his conscience, and suretie of the suc- 
 cession of this realm. This is the cause of our repair to you, and now 
 will we depart." 
 
HENRY'S EMBARRASSMENT. 249 
 
 financial calculation, was not unacceptable even to the clergy or 
 the people. Still Henry hesitated to take a step by which he 
 must formally separate himself and his subjects from the mitred 
 chief, whose spiritual jurisdiction was acknowledged by every 
 people of Christendom. Retaining the pusillanimous scruples 
 imbibed from education, he sought for some royal or imperial 
 precedent by which to regulate his conduct, and eagerly sug- 
 gested the idea of establishing in his own dominions a patriarch, 
 or convoking a general council, according to the practice of the 
 Eastern Empire ; but above all things Henry was desirous to 
 engage the concurrence, and even the co-operation of the King 
 of France in those projected substitutions and improvements. 
 Through the agency of Cardinal du Bellai (Bishop of Bayonne), 
 he had lately maintained a private correspondence with Francis, 
 who urged him without delay to conclude the marriage with 
 Anne Boleyn. To satisfy his doubts, however, Henry persisted 
 in deferring it till after he should have had a confidential meet- 
 ing with him at Calais. The intervening time was partly spent 
 in deliberations with Cromwel, then his efficient, if not his 
 favourite, minister; in theological discussions with Cranmer; 
 and, above all, in the delightful society of Anne Boleyn, with 
 whom he now more openly associated. 
 
 During the last year she had resided in her father's mansion, 
 at Durham House,* but frequently rode in public with the King 
 and his courtiers, in their pleasurable excursions to Richmond 
 and Windsor. At this period Cranmer, who was still domesti- 
 
 * On the site of the Aclelphi. It was a spacious and magnificent 
 mansion, remarkable for having been the house where the guilty Earl 
 and Countess of Somerset lived several years without speaking to each 
 other. 
 
250 INTERCOURSE OF HENRY AND ANNE. 
 
 cated in lier family, spent niucli of liis time in Anne's society, 
 and zealously improved the opportunity for infusing into her 
 mind his own sentiments respecting the Reformation. In his 
 correspondence with the Earl of Wiltshire, he mentions her asso- 
 ciation with the King in a manner that plainly shows that he 
 considered it as a favourable omen. '^ The Countess/' he writes 
 in one of his letters, ^^ is well. The King and the Lady Anne 
 rode to Windsor yesterday, and to-night they he expected at 
 Hampton-Court. God be their* guide." From the emphasis 
 with which Cranmer dwells on this circumstance, it is obvious 
 that he anticipates from their increasing intimacy results the 
 most auspicious to the progress of religious liberty. This idea 
 was too flattering to Anne to be rejected; and the enthusiasm 
 which it inspired in some degree relieved the cares and dignified 
 the pursuits of ambition. Fortified by the decisions of the 
 most celebrated divines of Europe, she conceived the dissolution 
 of Henry's union with Catherine to be an indispensable act of 
 duty ; and it is probable that this persuasion, by reconciling her 
 to herself, increased her happiness and her benevolence. After 
 his formal separation from Catherine, Henry spent the summer 
 of 1532 in a running progressf through Middlesex and Berk- 
 shire. In whatever place he sojourned, Anne Boleyn had also 
 a temporary residence in its vicinity ; and they were every day 
 accustomed to meet on some chosen spot, and to spend many hours 
 in walking and riding together.J During the progress of the 
 
 * Strype's Cranmer. f Hall. 
 
 f Some of these scenes are still preserved in traditional remem- 
 brance. In the neighbourhood of Staines was a nunnery, which is 
 said to have sometimes afforded Anne Boleyn a temporary retreat ; and 
 about a mile distant stood a yew-tree, which was believed to have been 
 
HENRY'S DOMESTIC HABITS. 251 
 
 divorce, Henry had acquired a keener relish for rural recrea- 
 tions, and the privileges of domestic privacy ; he was no longer 
 the frolic-loving prince, who had delighted to surprise his con- 
 sort in the fantastic disguise of Robin Hood, — who was first in 
 the lists, and foremost in the dance. Of his domestic habits 
 and manners at this period, we have a pleasing picture in the 
 correspondence of Cardinal du Bellai, who appears to have been 
 admitted to his familiar intimacy ; and the following letter, ad- 
 dressed to the Grand Master, Montmorenci, offer some amusing 
 details of royal hospitality :* — 
 
 " I should be unjust, not to acknowledge the handsome and 
 very friendly attentions I have received from the King (and his 
 court), and in particular the familiar intimacy to which he has 
 admitted me. I am every day alone with him hunting ; he chats 
 familiarly of his private affairs, and takes as much trouble to 
 make me a partaker of his sports and his pleasures, as if I were 
 in reality the superior personage. Sometimes Madame Anne 
 joins our party ; each equipped with the bow and arrows, as is, you 
 know, the English style in hunting. Sometimes he places us 
 both in a spot where we shall be sure to see him shoot the deer 
 as they pass ; and whenever he reaches a lodge appropriated to 
 his servants, he alights to tell of all the feats that he has per- 
 formed, and of all that he is about to do. The Lady Anne pre- 
 sented me with a complete hunting-suit, including a hat, a bow 
 and arrow, and a greyhound. Do not fancy I announce this 
 gift to make you believe I am thought worthy to possess a lady's 
 
 the spot where Henry, at a certain hour, was accustomed to meet Anne 
 Boleyn. 
 
 * These letters are appended to the History of the Divorce of Henry 
 and Catherine, by Le Grand. 
 
252 CARDINAL BELLAI'S LETTER. 
 
 favour. I merely state it to let you see how much this prince 
 values the friendship of our monarch ; for whatever this lady 
 does is by King Henry's suggestion.'' 
 
 In another letter^ which is dated Hanwell, the cardinal inti- 
 mates how ardently it is desired by Anne and Henry, that the 
 former should he included in the intended meeting at Calais or 
 Boulogne. ^^ I am convinced our sovereign, if he wished to 
 gratify the King and Madame Anne, could devise nothing better 
 than to authorize me to entreat that she may accompany him to 
 Calais, to be there received and entertained with due respect ; (it 
 is nevertheless desirable that there be no company of ladies, 
 since there is always better cheer without them ;) but in that 
 case, it would be necessary the King of France should bring the 
 Queen of Navarre to Boulogne, that she in like manner might 
 receive and entertain the King of England ; I shall not mention 
 with whom this idea originates, being pledged to secrecy ; but 
 you may be well assured I do not write without authority. As 
 to the Queen of France,* she is quite out of the question, as he 
 would not meet her for the world ; that Spanish costume is to 
 him as abhorrent as the very devil. It would also give him 
 great pleasure if the King would bring with him his sons, with 
 whom he desires to cultivate a friendship. The Duke of Norfolk 
 assures me, that much good may be expected to result from this 
 interview ; and that it will redound to the honour and glory of 
 both nations. Let me however whisper, that our King ought 
 to exclude from his train all imperialists, if any such there be 
 in his court; and to take especial care that no mischievous wags 
 or coxcomical jesters accompany him, a species of character utterly 
 
 * The Emperor's sister ; consequently too nearly related to the in- 
 jured Catherine. 
 
ANNE BOLEYN'S OCCUPATIONS. 253 
 
 detested by this people." — From this brief sketch, it is easy to 
 discover, that to preserve the station which Anne occupied in 
 the King' ^ affections, was a task neither light nor enviable : she 
 had to ent^r into all his pursuits, whether grave or gay ; to ma- 
 nifest an interest iji his views and his wishes, however capricious 
 or absurd; fbove all, she had to watch every thought, to rebut 
 every scruple inimical to the progress of the reforming party. 
 Her more agreeable occupations were to play and sing, to amuse 
 his leisure hours ; sometimes, by her persuasive address, to entice 
 his approbation of a liberal and enlightened work ; and some- 
 times, by dint of flattery or tender importunity, it was perhaps 
 her privilege to surprise him into a benevolent action or a gene- 
 rous sentiment. Of herself, two opinions prevailed at this 
 period : the one, that she was privately Henry's wife ; the other, 
 that she had long been Henry's mistress. It should however 
 be remembered, that the King's first object was to transmit the 
 crown to his posterity; and that from the unnatural dislike 
 which he appeared at this time to entertain against his daughter, 
 the Princess Mary, he was more than ever anxious to secure 
 the legitimate claims of any offspring with which he might 
 hope to be blessed by Anne Boleyn. That he had long 
 relinquished the hope, and even the wish, to induce Anne to 
 listen to dishonourable proposals, must be evident to all, who, 
 with an unprejudiced mind, have perused his correspondence; 
 nor is it credible that, had she condescended to be his mistress, 
 she would ever have been permitted to become his wife. 
 To be crowned — to be proclaimed a queen, had long been the 
 idol of her ambition ; was it possible she should tamely aban- 
 don the object for which she had already sacrificed so much, at 
 the moment when it was almost within her grasp ? But the 
 
 90 
 
254 ANNE CREATED A MARCHIONESS. 
 
 correspondence already referred to is sufficient to annihilate the 
 suspicion. Henry was evidently so jealous of Anne's dignity, 
 that he wished the Queen of Navarre to he included in the party 
 at Boulogne; that whatever courtesy was shown "by Anne to the 
 King of France, might he repaid by Margaret to the King of 
 England. Is it credible that Henry would have exacted such 
 homage for his mistress ? or that, at the moment when he most 
 anxiously wished to conciliate the friendship of Francis, he 
 should have offered this marked, deliberate insult to his beloved 
 sister? But Henry's solicitude for Anne's dignity was not 
 satisfied till, by an unprecedented step, he had advanced her to a 
 rank, which entitled its possessor to familiar association with the 
 most illustrious personages in Europe. This fortunate expedient 
 was no other than to invest her with the rank and privileges of a 
 marchioness ; a title rare and honourable in England, and never be- 
 fore conferred on any unmarried female. The first of September 
 was the day appointed, and Windsor Castle the scene chosen, for 
 the celebration of this solemnity. Early in the morning, the King, 
 who had just arrived from Amp thill, proceeded to the chamber of 
 presence, attended by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, several 
 of the bishops and principal members of the privy council, and 
 the French ambassadors. Here, surrounded by his courtiers, he 
 took his place under the canopy of state : in the meanwhile, a 
 procession of noblemen, walking two and two, heralded the ap- 
 proach of Anne Boleyn. She was preceded by the beautiful 
 Lady Mary Howard, on whose arm was suspended the furred 
 mantle appropriate to her intended rank of peeress, whilst in her 
 right hand she bore the precious coronet which formed the com- 
 mon badge of nobility. The marchioness elect next appeared, 
 leaning on two peeresses, the Countess of Rutland and the 
 
 i 
 
THE CEREMONY. 255 
 
 Countess dowager of Sussex. She was simply dressed in a cir- 
 cote of cloth of gold, richly trimmed with crimson, and on her head 
 wore no other coif than her own braided hair. In her train 
 followed many ladies and gentlemen, habited with suitable 
 magnificence. When she approached the throne, she suddenly 
 paused and thrice courtesied, with the lowest obeisance; then, 
 advancing nearer to her sovereign, knelt down ; her ladies as- 
 sumed the same humble posture. The Garter at Arms then 
 presented to the King a roll of parchment, which was by him 
 delivered to Bishop Gardiner, who, in an audible voice, read the 
 letters patent, in which, it was stated, that for her various 
 excellent and transcendent accomplishments and virtues, Anne 
 was created Marchioness of Pembroke. At the word investimusj 
 the ladies all arose, and the King having first received from 
 Anne's hands the mantle, restored it to her, and placed on her 
 head the demi-circular coronet, eagerly anticipating the moment 
 when it should be encircled with a regal diadem.* 
 
 The ceremony being concluded, the King and his suite re- 
 paired to the College ; where, after hearing mass, he ratified by a 
 solemn oath the league with France, to which the French monarch 
 was equally pledged by his ambassador. Monsieur Pomeroy : then 
 was pronounced a Latin oration in j)raise of amity and concord ; 
 
 ^ " There were also delivered to her two several lettres patents ; one 
 of her said creation, the other of a gift of a thousand pounds by year, 
 to maintain her estate. 
 
 " The Lady Marchioness gave unto Garter King of Amies for her 
 apparell, 8Z. 
 
 *' To the officers of arms, 11/. 135. M. 
 
 *'And the King gave unto the officers of ai-ms, 5Z." 
 
 Park's Edition of Waljyole's Royal and Nolle Authors. 
 
256 ANNE'S JEWELS. 
 
 and^ finally, the engagement was consummated by a feast in the 
 castle, to which no women were admitted. 
 
 On becoming Marchioness of Pembroke, Anne had been pre- 
 sented with a set of jewels* suitable to a princess, and provided 
 with an establishment on a commensurate scale of magnificence. 
 In her progress to Calais with Henry, she was accompanied by 
 several ladies of the first quality ; who, since neither the wives 
 nor the daughters of the nobility were included in the arrange- 
 ments for the meeting, must have gone ostensibly as her personal 
 attendants. f It was probably at this brilliant period of her 
 existence, that Wiatt, beholding in Anne his future queen, ad- 
 
 -^ In Strype's Cranmer, we have tlie following list of jewels, ex- 
 tracted fi^oni the Records of the Jewel Office : — 
 
 "One cai-keyne of gold antique works, having a shield of gold set 
 with a great rose, containing twelve diamonds, one fair table diamond, 
 one pointed diamond, one table ruby, and three fair hanging pearls ; 
 another carcanet of gold, with two hands holding a great owche of gold, 
 set with a great table balasse, one pointed diamond, two table dia- 
 monds, one rising with lozenges, the other flat, and one other long- 
 lozenged diamond, four hanging pearls ; a thin carkeyne of gold 
 enamelled with black and white, with an owche of gold enamelled 
 white and blue, set with a great rocky ruby, one rocky emerald, one 
 pointed diamond, one table diamond ; a harte of a diamond, rising fall 
 of lozenges, and one fair hanging pearl ; to these were added three 
 other carkeynes equally magnificent ; also for an ornament, St. George 
 on horseback, garnished with sixteen small diamonds, and in the belly 
 of the dragon a rocky pearl ; to another carkeyne of gold, a similar 
 ornament was appended ; to these were added a chain of the Spanish 
 fashion, enamelled white, red, and black. Sent unto the King's high- 
 ness from Greenwich to Hampton Court by Master Norris, the 21st of 
 September, in the twenty-fourth year of his reign." 
 
 t See Hall. 
 
TRIBUTE TO ANNE BY WIATT. 257 
 
 dressed to lier tlie following elegant and tender lines, with which, 
 even as a stateswoman, she could not hut he touched and gra- 
 tified : — 
 
 Forget not yet the tried intent 
 
 Of such a truth as I have meant ; 
 
 My great travail so gladly spent, 
 
 Forget not yet. 
 
 Forget not yet, when first began, 
 
 The weary life, ye know — since whan 
 The suit, the service, none tell can ; 
 Forget not yet. 
 
 Forget not yet the great assays, 
 
 The cruel wrong, the scornful ways, 
 The painful patience and delays. 
 Forget not yet. 
 
 Forget not, oh ! forget not this, 
 
 How long ago hath been, and is, 
 The mind that never meant amiss. 
 Forget not yet. 
 
 Forget not thine own approved, 
 
 The which so long hath thee so loved, 
 Whose stedfast faith yet never moved ; 
 Forget not this. 
 
 Although it can scarcely he suspected that Wiatt seriously 
 cherished for Anne a warmer sentiment than friendship, it was 
 perhaps not without some painful solicitude that he witnessed, 
 during the expedition to Calais, her assumption of royal state, 
 such as could alone be proper in the acknowledged wife of his 
 sovereign. In a sonnet written at this period, he alludes to the 
 royal chains appended to her neck, by which she was designated 
 22 * 
 
258 HENRY VISITS FRANCE. 
 
 as belonging to Csesar. It might, however, afford some gratifi- 
 cation to his pride or delicacy, that she remained with decorous 
 privacy in the Exchequer, in which she had been lodged with 
 the other ladies, whilst the King, attended by the Dukes of Nor- 
 folk and Suffolk, and the prime of his nobility, proceeded to 
 Boulogne, where Francis, in like manner, accompanied by the 
 King of Navarre, his three sons, and the princes of the blood, 
 awaited his approach. The present meeting was formed under 
 auspices far different from those which had presided at their 
 former interview, in the celebrated Field of Gold. Although 
 both monarchs were still in the vigour or life, time had wrought 
 in them some alterations, perceptible to the most superficial ob- 
 server. The symmetry of Henry's form was already impaired 
 by corpulence ; the vigorous constitution of Francis broken by 
 alternatives of hardship and indulgence, resulting from his mis- 
 fortunes or his misconduct. Accustomed to contend with noble 
 foes, or to grapple with substantial difficulties, these princes aban- 
 doned to others the puerile trophies of the tilting-field, but still 
 retained their original fondness for pomp and splendour ; and 
 when they met between Calais and Boulogne, the competition in 
 jewels and cloths of gold between themselves and their lords 
 was still apparent. In elegance of manners Francis was confess- 
 edly without a rival ; and to their usual fascination was now 
 added the elegance of genuine emotion. When clasping Henry 
 to his breast, he exclaimed, ^^ Sir, you are the person I am most 
 bound to in the world ; and for the friendship I have received, 
 I beg you to take me as yours.'' Henry replied in a suitable 
 strain of cordiality ; and they proceeded towards Boulogne, when, 
 to beguile the wa};^, the hawks were loosed, and both the French 
 and English lords eagerly partook of this pastime. As they 
 
HIS MEETING WITH FRANCIS I. 259 
 
 approached the town, they descried on the hill a body of five 
 hundred cavalierS; who immediately descended to salute the Eng- 
 lish party. At the head of this chosen band, were the three 
 eldest sons of Francis, whom he presented to Henry, with these 
 wovc's : " My children, you are no less bound to this Prince than 
 to me, your natural father ; for he redeemed me and you from 
 captivity." Henry embraced the youths with the warmest ex- 
 pressions of attachment ; and the remainder of this day, like 
 many which succeeded, was spent, both by French and English, 
 in festivity and harmony. But with these convivial pleasures, 
 the two kings intermingled political and theological discussions. 
 It was the aim of Henry to induce Francis to sanction, by ex- 
 ample, his own renunciation of papal authority; but to this 
 step the King of France evinced insuperable repugnance, al- 
 though he heartily concurred in the propriety of the divorce, and 
 the expediency of the projected marriage. During these pri- 
 vate conferences, Anne Boleyn might have often trembled lest 
 the friendly dispositions of Francis should be counteracted by 
 his arguments; and it must have been a seasonable relief to 
 her anxiety, when the English monarch led back the French 
 prince to Calais, where her personal influence would turn the 
 balance in her favour. As the Queen of Navarre had not ac- 
 cepted the King of England's invitation, Anne remained in 
 seclusion during the visit of the French monarch ; but on the 
 Sunday, when Henry gave a sumptuous feast to the royal party, 
 she devised a masque in the French style, to heighten the enter- 
 tainment. At the close of the supper, at which both monarchs 
 had been regaled with choice viands and exquisite wines, the 
 doors were thrown open, when the marchioness, followed by 
 seven ladies, all masked, and habited in cloth of gold, entered 
 
260 MARKIAGE OF HENRY AND ANNE. 
 
 tlie apartment; attended by four damsels, attired in crimson satin ; 
 tlie marchioness immediately challenged the French King to 
 dance ; whilst the Countess of Derby selected the King of Na- 
 varre; every other lady chose a lord, and the dance began, of 
 which Henry remained a passive spectator, till, plucking from 
 each fair dame her vizor, he introduced the ladies to their ad- 
 miring partners, and Francis discovered that he had been dancing 
 with Anne Boleyn, whom he had never seen since she quitted 
 his court, a giddy, volatile girl, of all human beings the least 
 likely to become the consort of a great monarch. After mutual 
 compliments, Francis gallantly pressed on her acceptance a jewel, 
 worth fifteen thousand livres, and immediately bade her fare- 
 well. Henry attended him to his lodging, where the two Kings 
 took leave with sentiments of real cordiality, far different from 
 those specious professions of gallantry with which ^they had, 
 twelve years before, amused themselves and their respective 
 courts. On the following morning, Francis returned to Bou- 
 logne ; and, a few days after, the English monarch and his suite 
 re-embarked for England, fully resolved to espouse the woman 
 who had so long possessed his affections : but it is a curious fact, 
 that there is no point of history more uncertain than the precise 
 period at which the marriage actually took place. By many of 
 the chroniclers, and some of our best historians, it is fixed on 
 the very day on which Henry and Anne landed at Dover ; but, 
 if concealment were the object, it should seem more likely that 
 it had been performed at Calais : by other authorities the cere- 
 mony is deferred to the first of January, when it is stated to 
 have been privately performed by Dr. Lee, in the presence of 
 the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire, and two or three other con- 
 
THE DIVORCE FROM CATHERINE. 2G1 
 
 j&dential friends. According to either opinion,* tlic marriage 
 must have been solemnized previous to the sentence of divorce 
 definitively pronounced against Catherine. 
 
 By the authority of the convocation, an episcopal court was 
 convened at Dunstable, in the vicinity of Catherine's residence,f 
 to which she was once more cited ; on not answering the citation 
 she was declared contumacious, and the long-suspended sentence 
 of divorce finally pronounced by Cranmer. 
 
 By the reforming party this decisive measure was hailed as 
 auspicious of future triumph, and whatever sympathy might be 
 awakened by Catherine's unmerited degradation, the popularity 
 of the King's late administration was such as to silence or over- 
 j^ower the murmurs of discontent. In the council, much dissen- 
 sion prevailed on this subject. Gardiner temporized; Cromwel 
 and Cranmer exulted; the Duke of Norfolk secretly deprecated 
 the consequences that might ensue to the Boman party : and 
 Sir Thomas More, although he had cordially concurred in the 
 first steps against the national clergy, anticipating from the pre- 
 sent measure a total separation from the church of Bome, 
 resigned the great seal, which was immediately transferred to 
 Sir Thomas Audley. Every obstacle to his wishes being re- 
 moved, the King caused a proclamation to be issued on Easter- 
 even, for the coronation of his beloved wife, Queen Anne; and 
 letters were sent to the Mayor and other municipal officers, 
 directing them to conduct his consort, with the accustomed cere- 
 monies, from Greenwich to the Tower, and " to see the city gar- 
 nished with pageants, according to ancient custom, for her re- 
 
 * In Wiatt's Life of Queen Anne Rolen, it is decidedly stated to have 
 been solemnized on tlic first of .Tannnry. 
 f At Ampthill. 
 
262 ANNE'S CORONATION. 
 
 ception/'' Whatever difference of opinion existed respecting 
 the marriage, a general sensation of interest was created by the 
 coronation; a ceremony indispensably necessary to efface the 
 impressions produced by the ambiguity of Anne's former posi- 
 tion, and to secure, by a solemn national act, the legitimacy of 
 her future offspring. The coronation of a Queen-consort, was 
 a spectacle of which the novelty was well calculated to attract 
 attention. Half a century had revolved since Henry the Seventh 
 of Lancaster reluctantly permitted this tribute of respect to 
 be offered to the amiable Elizabeth Plantagenet. An interval 
 of twenty-three years had elapsed, since Henry the Eighth had 
 been crowned with his now rejected Catherine ; and although 
 the present ceremony was perhaps not entitled to the same 
 magnificence which had been displayed on that occasion, 
 it might aspire to even superior elegance and taste, since 
 its object was a woman in the prime of youth and beauty, 
 the history of whose romantic fortunes had been the familiar 
 theme of conversation to every country in Europe ; for whose 
 exaltation a part of the national system had actually been sub- 
 verted; or rather, perhaps, by whose ambition a vestige of 
 national independence had been restored. The prelude of this 
 solemnity, which on Whit-Sunday was to be concluded, com- 
 menced on the Thursday in Easter-week, with the ceremony of 
 conducting the Queen from Greenwich to the Tower of London ; 
 a spectacle not only offering the attraction of picturesque beauty, 
 but equally calculated to gratify patriotic feeling and to captivate 
 the imagination. At three o'clock the civic fleet of fifty barges, 
 representing the various commercial companies* of London, was 
 
 ■^ Many of the mottoes appended to tlieir respective flags, conveyed 
 religious sentiments favourable to the school of Wickliflfe or Luther. 
 
ANNE'S CORONATION. 263 
 
 in readiness for the Queen's embarkation. The awnings were 
 of cloth of gold, or silk, emblazoned with the arms of England, 
 and ornamented with various curious pageants, among which 
 the Queen's appropriate device of a falcon was eminently con- 
 spicuous.* Next to the Mayor's boat, and in a manner committed 
 to his tutelary protection, appeared the royal barge, in which, 
 superbly attired in cloth of gold, sat Anne, surrounded by her 
 obsequious ladies. A hundred barges belonging to the nobility fol- 
 lowed, magnificently ornamented with silk or cloth of gold, gliding 
 on in harmonious order to measured strains of music. Innumera- 
 ble streamers waved in the wind, to which were attached bells, 
 floating on the air with responsive melody. The river was 
 covered with boats ; the shores were lined with spectators ; and 
 it might have been supposed that London was deserted of its 
 inhabitants, but for the innumerable multitudes collected near 
 the Tower to witness the Queen's disembarkation. Never, since 
 the birth of her ambitious hopes, had Anne experienced such 
 exquisite gratification ; and never, perhaps, was she destined 
 to realize another day of genuine felicity ! The regal diadem 
 to which she had so long aspired — that phantom of greatness, 
 to which she had sacrificed the brilliant hours, of youth, the 
 purest sources of happiness — was now secured to her possession. 
 The little interval of time that was yet to intervene before the 
 crown should actually be placed on her head, gave to this ante- 
 
 Of the Grocers' (incorportrated under Edward the Third), the motto 
 •was, "God grant grace;" of the Fishmongers', (Henry the Eighth), 
 "All -worship be to God only;" the Goldsmiths' (Richard the Second), 
 "To God only be all glory;" of the Clothworkers' (Hem-y the Eighth), 
 " My trust is in God alone." 
 
 * In one of the boats was a mount on which sat virgins melodiously 
 singing, in honour of the new Queen. 
 
264 ANNE'S CORONATION. 
 
 taste of sovereignty a peculiar zest of enjoyment ; and, without 
 feeling the pressure of royal care, she gloried in the splendour, 
 she reposed in the consciousness of supreme pre-eminence. The 
 desire of pleasing had hitherto exposed her to censure ; but 
 vanity assumed the character of benevolence in a Queen whose 
 looks, and even whose gestures, were watched with impassioned 
 devotion, and who sought by winning smiles and gracious lan- 
 guage, not only to inspire enthusiasm, but to impart delight. 
 On this day, at least, she might indulge the hope, that she was 
 the object of a sympathy more unequivocally flattering than 
 the most adulatory homage. Her approach to the Tower 
 was heralded by a discharge of artillery, "the like whereof,^^ 
 says Hall, " was never heard before ;'' which was lost amidst 
 the shouts, and answered by the spontaneous acclamations of 
 the people. 
 
 Among the assembled multitude, there were, perhaps, few who 
 quitted the scene indifferent to the future welfare of the woman, 
 who had that day been the object of universal curiosity and 
 attention : such is the interest excited by situations of enterprise 
 and danger, and so grateful to the mind is the contemplation of , 
 those rare achievements, of which the unexpected success seems, 
 by a felicitous experiment, to extend the ordinary limits of 
 human destiny. 
 
 On the succeeding Saturday Anne went in procession through 
 the streets of London, borne in a litter, magnificently arrayed, 
 and unveiled to public view, precisely as, nineteen years before, 
 Mary Queen of France had made her triumphal entry through 
 the streets of Paris. On Whit-Sunday the spectacle closed with 
 the most imposing, though least elegant part of the ceremony, 
 the actual coronation. 
 
THE PROCESSION TO THE CHURCH. 265 
 
 Anne was led to the church in gorgeous state ; her train borne 
 by the aged Duchess of Norfolk, and the Archbishops of York 
 and Canterbury; whilst she herself leaned for support on the 
 arm of her father, to whose prudence and vigilance, even more 
 than to her own personal attractions, she was indebted for her 
 extraordinary elevation. In her train followed peers and peer- 
 esses, knights, commoners, and gentlewomen : to the practised eye 
 the rank of each lady was designated by the powdered border that 
 embellished the mantle or robe ; and whilst the wife or daugh- 
 ter of a peer wore over a circot of scarlet a mantle fringed with 
 ermine, the knight's consort was simply attired in a short gown, 
 her shoulders unencumbered with the gorgeous trappings of 
 nobility. After a variety of tedious forms and ceremonies,* the 
 heavy sceptre was placed in one hand, and the ivory globe in 
 the other; at the conclusion of the last anthem Anne gladly 
 resigned St. Edward's ponderous crown for a less oppressive dia- 
 dem, and no sooner was it placed on her head, than at the same 
 instant each marchioness put on her crescent, wrought with 
 flowers, each countess assumed her plain coronet, and every king 
 at arms exhibited the broad gilt crown, with which, during that 
 day at least, he was permitted to sustain his part in monarchical 
 pageantry ; finally, amidst these reflected images of regality, the 
 new Queen withdrew under a gorgeous canopy, borne by the 
 four Cinque Barons, with all the dignity and self-possession that 
 became a queen. But the spectacle was not concluded ; Anne 
 had to sit under the cloth of estate during the livelong feast, of 
 which each course was heralded by trumpets, whilst the most 
 illustrious peers of England performed the duties of domestic 
 
 * For a more minute account of the ceremony, see the extract from 
 
 Stow at the end of the volume. 
 23 
 
266 THE HIPPOCRAS, 
 
 attendants. At tlie close of the repast she rose, and; with an 
 air of mingled majesty and sweetness, advanced to the middle 
 of the hall, where the Mayor, according to ancient custom, pre- 
 sented to her the hippocras in a cup of gold, which, having raised 
 to her lips, she returned to him with a graceful compliment, 
 and left the hall, to receive the more cordial congratulations of 
 her enamoured hushand, who, accompanied by the French am«- 
 bassadors, had taken his station at the window of an apartment 
 adjoining the hall, from whence he had commanded a full view 
 of the ceremony. 
 
 With whatever pride or pleasure he might have contemplated 
 Anne's triumph, it was impossible he should have entirely ex- 
 cluded the recollection of that memorable two-and-twentieth of 
 June, when he and the now rejected Catherine had been crowned 
 together. He missed the presence of his beloved sister Mary, 
 already languishing of a disease which was destined to prove 
 mortal ; and, amidst the gayeties of this hymeneal triumph, must 
 have been painfully reminded that he had himself approached 
 the autumnal season of existence. 
 
 To the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire this day of triumph 
 could not but awaken some correspondent fears. Experience 
 had taught them to distrust the constancy of Henry's affections, 
 and to dread the effects of his resentment. They had seen their 
 daughter raised to a pinnacle of greatness ; but her fate depended 
 on his caprice : the breath of his displeasure would precipitate 
 her to destruction. 
 
 In Anne herself, the event of the day must have inspired 
 some serious thoughts to chasten and depress her former exulta- 
 tion. 
 
 From the establishment of the Norman dynasty, no private 
 
ANNE'S RESOLUTION. 267 
 
 gentlewoman, before Elizabeth Woodville, had been permitted to 
 ascend the throne.* With that solitary example were associated 
 the mournful and appalling images of two murdered sons, a 
 neglected daughter, and, most terrible of all, the dreary prison 
 in which the once idolized Queen had been condemned to drag 
 out the last period of life, the victim of Henry of Richmond's 
 suspicious tyranny. The contemplation of such a picture might 
 have awed and subdued a temper less ardent, a spirit less en- 
 thusiastic ; but to Anne Boleyn it lent a desperate resolution, 
 and she resolved to live or die as became a queen ; to win the 
 affections and command the respect of the people. 
 
 * Elizabeth died in the Abbey of Bermondsey, to which she had 
 been confined by her son-in-law, Henry the Seventh. 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 SEQUEL OF THE HISTORY OF QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN. 
 
 Cares of Royalty — The Duke of Norfolk — The Duchess — Anne's Attend- 
 ants — Gardiner — Luther — Designs of the Reformers — Transubstan- 
 tiation — Latimer — The Court — Birth of the Princess Elizabeth — The 
 Christening — Elizabeth's Household — Sources of Chagrin — The Nun 
 of Rocking — Fate of Fisher and More — Plenry's Theology — Anne's 
 Protection of Protestants — Mission to Germany — Hopes of an Heir — 
 Diminution of Henry's Affection — Jane Seymour — Catherine's Death 
 — Discovery of Jane's Intrigue by Anne — Hlness of Anne — Designs 
 of Henry — His Spies — Lady Rochford — Anne's Charities — Norris and 
 Weston — Calumnies — Troubles of Anne — The King's Policy — The 
 Fatal Tournament — Arrest of Westmoreland and Norris — Anne 
 arrested — Committed to the Tower — Her Deportment in Prison — 
 Her Attendants — Her Answer to Henry's demand of a Confession — 
 Her last Letter to the King — Her subsequent Deportment — The Judi- 
 cial Court — The Trial — The Sentence — Anne's Address to the Duke 
 of Norfolk — Cause of her Condemnation — Her Conduct after Con- 
 demnation — Her intercession for the Princess Elizabeth — Her Con- 
 versation with Kingston — Her Execution — Injustice of the Sentence. 
 
 In ardent minds, the aspirations of ambition are often asso- 
 ciated with the amiable sympathies of benevolence, the love of 
 power becomes identified with the love of virtue, and beautiful 
 images of felicity are blended with romantic and magnificent 
 illusions of glory. In ascending the throne, Anne appears to 
 have expected that such dreams of youthful fancy were to be 
 realized : her first impulse was to exalt her family, and to dis- 
 pense all the goods of fortune to her most remote connections ; 
 
CARES OF ROYALTY. 269 
 
 ber ncxt^ to justify the confidence reposed in her efforts by the 
 reformers; from all eyes, all hearts, to receive spontaneous 
 homage ; to reign in the affections of her husband and his 
 people ; — these were the objects for which she had so long sub- 
 mitted to voluntary penance and privation, and for these she 
 exulted in possessing a crown. A short time was sufficient to 
 prove to her the fallacy of these expectations. After the first 
 few days devoted to festivity and congratulation,* she became 
 sensible of the onerous duties attached to pre-eminence. In 
 regal state, the gratification of novelty was soon exhausted ; its 
 constraint continued ; its cares redoubled. The weight of St. 
 Edward's crown, of which she had felt the momentary pressure 
 on the memorable day of coronation, was every day experienced, 
 unaccompanied by .those emotions of joy and complacency which 
 it originally created. 
 
 Independent of the anxiety, the doubts, the diffidence, with 
 which she must have watched the fluctuations of Henry's capri- 
 cious fancy, she had a constant source of uneasiness in the dis- 
 cordant views which prevailed among her nearest connections. 
 Whilst the Countess of Wiltshire coalesced with the Howards, 
 in whose hereditary pride she participated, the earl regarded with 
 distrust and aversion the Duke of Norfolk, who repined that his 
 own daughter, the beautiful Lady Mary, or at least some rela- 
 
 ^ At one of those civic feasts to which Henry condescended to ac- 
 company his bride was introduced the elegant novelty of a lemon, a 
 luxury hitherto unknown to an English table. To an epicure, such as 
 Henry, perhaps the acquisition of a castle in France would have been 
 less acceptable ; and such was the importance attached to the dis- 
 covery, that, in a bill belonging to the Leathersellers' Company, it was 
 recorded that this royal lemon cost six silver pennies. 
 2.3 * 
 
270 DUCHESS OF NORFOLK. 
 
 tive of the name of Howard^ liad not Ibeen elevated to the throne. 
 Insensible to the kindness with which Anne employed her in- 
 fluence to promote the union of Lady Mary with the Duke of 
 Kichmond^ whom the King once intended to include in the suc- 
 cession, he artfully coalesced with Gardiner, the determined 
 enemy of Lutheraijism ; not without the hope that, like another 
 Wolsey, he should acquire unbounded influence in the King's 
 counsels. As the brother-in-law of Henry the Seventh, he 
 spurned the title of the Queen's uncle, but passionately desired 
 to become the despotic minister of his sovereign. On his part, 
 the Earl of Wiltshire was mortified at the preference shown to 
 the Duke of Norfolk; as the King's father-in-law, he had, per- 
 haps, expected a ducal coronet, or some signal mark of royal 
 favour. Prudence might keep him silent ; but his chagrin could 
 not but be visible to his daughter, when he resigned his public 
 employments, and retired from public life. With the Earl of 
 Surrey Anne lived in cordial friendship, and was apparently 
 idolized by his beautiful sister ; but little reliance could be placed 
 in the sincerity of this lady, who, some years after, with un- 
 blushing perfidy, furnished the evidence, however frivolous, on 
 which her brother was convicted of treason. With Elizabeth,* 
 
 * The Duchess lived in Hertfordshire, on a stipend of three hundred 
 marks per annum ; but she was destined for trials more severe than 
 indigence and neglect, or even injustice. Slie saw her gallant son de- 
 voted to death ; her unnatural daughter conspire against a brother's 
 life ; whilst her ungrateful husband survived a long imprisonment, to 
 die in peace and honour under the auspices of his congenial kinswoman 
 Queen Mary. The remains of this unfortunate woman were consigned 
 to the magnificent mausoleum of the Howards, at Lambeth; and it 
 seemed the consummation of her wretched destiny, that even her 
 
DUCHESS OF NORFOLK. 271 
 
 Duchess of Norfolk, the ill-fated daughter of the Duke of 
 Buckingham, Anne could have had no intercourse, since she was 
 supplanted in her husband's affections, and driven from his 
 house by injurious treatment. Of all her domestic connections, 
 the individual most endeared to her heart was George Boleyn 
 Lord Rochford : but even this fraternal friendship was embit- 
 tered by his wife, from whom she had received repeated proofs 
 of aversion and hostility. With a true sense of dignity, she 
 scorned, as a queen, to resent the injuries offered to Anne Bo- 
 leyn ; for her brother's sake, she permitted even her ancient 
 enemy to be one of the ladies of her bedchamber ; and, by this 
 
 dust should be mingled with that of her enemies and persecutors ; but 
 her tomb was insulated ; and the following epitaph, written by her 
 brother, Henry Lord Stafford, commemorates her virtues; 
 
 "Farewell good lady, and sister dear, 
 
 lu earth we shall never meet here ; 
 
 But yet I trust, with Godis grace, 
 
 In Heaven we shall deserve a place. 
 
 Yet thy kindness shall never depart, 
 
 During my life, out of my heart: 
 
 Thou art to me, both far and near, 
 
 A brother, a sistei', a friend most dear. 
 
 And to all thy friends most near and fast 
 
 When fortune sounded his froward blast. 
 
 And to the poor a very mother, 
 
 More than was known to any other; 
 
 Which is thy treasure now at this day. 
 
 And for thy soul they heartily pray. 
 
 So shall I do, that here remain ; — 
 
 God preserve thy soul from pain. 
 
 Ily thy most boundeu Brother, 
 
 Henry Lord Stafford." 
 Aubrey's History of Lambeth. 
 
272 ANNE'S ATTENDANTS. 
 
 fatal generosity, eventually furnished the opportunity, so long 
 desired, of accelerating her own ruin. With the same liberal 
 spirit she recalled her aunt. Lady Edward Boleyn, to the place 
 she had occupied under Catherine, although of all women she 
 appears to have been the least congenial to her tastes and feel- 
 ings. With Wiatt, now promoted to the office of ewerer of the 
 royal household, she no longer permitted any familiar intercourse, 
 and in this instance her prudence appears to have been repaid 
 with gratitude and honour : she continued, however, to admire 
 and patronize his talents, and was, perhaps, still unconsciously 
 the muse that inspired his happiest effusions ; whilst his sister, 
 Mrs. Margaret Lee,* a woman of irreproachable character, be- 
 came one of her chosen and confidential attendants. Amongst 
 the other ladies of her establishment, were the Countesses of 
 Worcester and Oxford, women of unsullied fame, whose presence 
 seemed to guaranty the honour and discretion of their mistress. 
 An extreme susceptibility to praise was, perhaps, the vulne- 
 rable point of Anne's character, and that by which she was fre- 
 quently exposed to pain and disappointment. Within the first 
 month of her triumph, at the moment when, t'^ undiscerning 
 eyes, she seemed to have reached the pinnacle 'of felicity, she 
 was humbled by a poor Franciscan friar, who, in Henry's chapel 
 at Greenwich, and even in his presence, intrepidly denounced 
 his dereliction of faith to Gl .^^, and audaciously compared 
 him to the wicked Ahab. Henry listened with composure, and 
 quietly admonished the friar to retract : he persisted, and was 
 supported by other monks of his fraternity. Henry affected to 
 smile at their vehemence ; but the monastery was suppressed, 
 and all the brothers of the community were banished. 
 
 * Nott's Life of Wiatt. 
 
LUTHER. 273 
 
 On another occasion, Anne had to experience a more painful 
 mortification— that of disappointing the hopes attributed to her 
 influence. She was notoriously at the head of the reformers, 
 and delighted to believe that she was really destined to watch, 
 like a tutelary angel, over that oppressed party. Experience 
 soon showed the fallacy of this expectation; when, by the arti- 
 fices of Gardiner, a young man of parts and learning, and of 
 exemplary conduct, was sacrificed to clear the King's character 
 from the imputation of heretical apostasy. To explain this cir- 
 cumstance, it is necessary briefly to remark the little progress 
 hitherto made by the new doctrines in England. 
 - To the cultivated mind nothing is more delightful than to 
 measure, with the strength of potentates, and the trophies of 
 conquerors, those auspicious changes in the moral aspect of 
 society, of which a solitary individual is sometimes permitted to 
 become the agent : such an example is presented by Luther, who, 
 in sixteen years, by the force of mental energy alone, had im- 
 parted a new character to a large part of Europe. Whilst three 
 successive Popes preached a crusade against the enemies of 
 Christendom, this champion of free inquiry denounced the errora 
 and corruptione of Christianity. When the two great rival 
 monarchs of France and Spain lavished blood and treasure on 
 frivolous objects, of which no vestige now remains but in the 
 records of human misery, the. ,rated monk presented to his 
 
 countrymen a translation of the Scriptures; and thus for ever 
 abolished that mental vassalage, in which a small privileged 
 class had hitherto held the great mass of mankind. In England 
 the progress of Luther's principles was neither rapid nor decisive. 
 The clergy strenuously resisted the importation of an English 
 Bible, without which it was obvious no radical changes irthe 
 system of superstition could be efiected. 
 
274 DESIGNS OF THE REFORMERS. 
 
 At this period tlie Englisli reformers miglit be divided into 
 two classes^ of wliich the first and most important derived their 
 opinions from Wickliffe^ rather than Luther. Of these old 
 English patriots, it appears to have been the first object to abo- 
 lish papal supremacy, and the next to circumscribe the power 
 of the clergy, for whose prerogative or emolument the usages of 
 penance, purgatory, pilgrimage, and other anile supersitions were 
 obviously perpetuated. From the commencement of his reign, 
 Henry had participated in the contempt of the reformers for 
 monastic communities, and cordially concurred in Wolsey's plan 
 of suppressing the inferior monasteries, and establishing in their 
 place schools and colleges for the regeneration of the clergy.* 
 
 Although he had started against Luther as the champion of 
 Rome, he was jealous of the encroachments of the Anglican 
 church, and eagerly embraced every occasion for checking their 
 rapacity and presumption. With these prepossessions in favour 
 of Cromwel's measures, he willingly listened to his proposal of 
 augmenting the royal revenue, by the sacrifice of ecclesiastical 
 establishments; but his prejudices to Lutheranism remained 
 unaltered; nor, with the exception, perhaps, of Anne Boleyn 
 and Cranmer, does it appear that Wiatt, or Brandon, or any of 
 the ministerial reformers, had hitherto extended their views beyond 
 the abolition of papal jurisdiction, and the retrenchment of those 
 ecclesiastical privileges maintained and fostered by popular super- 
 
 "^ In 1512, the decline of conventual establishments was already- 
 perceptible ; when a pious layman, who proposed to appropriate a 
 certain fund for the erection of a monastery, was dissuaded from it by- 
 Bishop Fox, who recommended to him rather to institute schools for 
 the instruction of youth, than to multiply nurseries of sloth and sen- 
 Buality. 
 
DESIGNS OF THE REFORMERS. 275 
 
 stitioii, which affected the higher rather than the lower orders 
 of society. Sensible that this pernicious empire was founded on 
 ignorance and credulity,* they secretly encouraged the circulation 
 
 * The priestcraft employed appears to have been precisely such as, 
 tm lately, existed in kll Catholic countries, and consisted of pretensions 
 to miraculous relics, and other preternatural agencies. Four times 
 every year was pronounced a curse against certain offences. The ser- 
 mons were sometimes plain, practical discourses, but frequently inter- 
 larded with legends calculated to nourish a servile devotion to the 
 priests. In a sermon against irreverence, is introduced an anecdote 
 of St. Austin, who, "having found two women prating together, saw 
 that the Fiend sat in their necks, writing on a great roll what the 
 women said ; and letting it fall, Austin went and took it up, and having 
 asked the women what they talked, they said their Paternoster^ then 
 Austin read the roll, and there was never a good word in it." In a 
 sermon on burying the dead, the following anecdotes were given of 
 spirits :— " Many walk on nights, when buried in holy place ; but that 
 is not long of the Fiend, but the grace of God to get them help : and 
 some be guilty, and have no rest. Four men stole an Abbot's ox to 
 their larder ; the Abbot did a sentence, and cursed them : so three of 
 them were shriven, and asked mercy; the fourth died, and was not 
 assoiled, and had not forgiveness ; so when he was dead, the spirit 
 went by night and feared all the people about, that none durst walk 
 after sun-down. Then, as the parish priest went a-night with God's 
 body to housel a sick man, this spirit went with him, and told him 
 what he was, and why he walked, and prayed the priest to go to his 
 wife that they should go both to the Abbot, to make him amends for 
 the trespass, and go to assoil him, for he might have no rest : and anon 
 the Abbot assoiled him, and he went to rest and joy for evermore." 
 The drift of such discourses was obviously to keep the people in igno- 
 rance and subjection to the will of their priests. The people were also 
 told, that "lewd men and women to dispute of this sacrament are 
 utterly forbidden ; for it is enough for them to believe as holy church 
 teacheth." 
 
276 . PERSECUTION. 
 
 of the ScriptureS; and of other tracts calculated to enlighten the 
 people. Several enterprising merchants co-operated in this un- 
 dertaking; the bishops took the alarm; and on the pretext that 
 it was a heretical translation, TindalFs Bible was denounced, and 
 all who could be convicted of promoting its circulation prosecuted 
 with unrelenting rigour.* The most dreadful demoralization 
 
 * Wolsey, though not always disposed to second prelatical zeal 
 against heretics, concurred in the persecution of Tindall and his ad- 
 herents. Bishop Tonstall, with more good-nature than judgment, 
 thought to remove the evil by buying up all the remaining copies of 
 the English Bible, by which means he enabled the reformers to put 
 forth another edition. Sir Thomas More pursued a far different course 
 from Tonstall. Not having Wolsey's motives for counteracting the 
 Anglican clergy, he called on the bishops to extirpate heresies and 
 punish heretics, and enforced the penal laws against them. In the 
 bishops' courts cognisance was taken of many delinquents, on the charge 
 of having taught their children the Lord's Prayer in English ; for 
 having read forbidden books ; or, in conversation, expressed contempt 
 for such observances as penance and pilgrimage, the worshipping of 
 gaints and images : of these, the majority abjured from terror, and 
 were thus taught to practise deception and hypocrisy. During More's 
 administration, Hilton, Bilney, Byfield, and Bainham were committed 
 to the flames. Indulgence was leased for forty days to any who would 
 bring a faggot to aid in destroying a heretic. 
 
 Sir Thomas More is said to have once spared a heretic for a bon mot. 
 In examining a refractory Lutheran, whose name was Silver, the Chan- 
 cellor reminded him, in allusion to his death, that silver must be tried 
 in the fire: — "Ay," cried the culprit, "but quicksilver will not 
 abide it." 
 
 This is not the only instance in which a species of punning or quib- 
 bling obtained special favour. In an insurrection, which the Duke of 
 Suffolk had been sent to quell, in 1525, having defeated the insurgents, 
 he demanded to see their captain; on which one of the ringleaders 
 
TRANSUBSTANTIATION. 277 
 
 was produced by these severities :* husbands betrayed their 
 wives ; unnatural children conspired against the existence of their 
 parents ; friends and brothers became spies and informers ; truth 
 and integrity were banished from domestic society, and those 
 flagitious crimes, by cupidity and ambition fostered in a court, 
 were transplanted to the lower walks of life, where they seemed 
 likely to destroy every vestige of genuine piety and national 
 honour. Hitherto the doctrine of transubstantiation had been 
 little agitated, either because the Lutherans had been counter- 
 acted by the want of general information, or that the practical 
 and oppressive evils resulting from the existing system super- 
 seded all other considerations. In certain minds of a more re- 
 flective cast, these abstruse subjects of speculation began, how- 
 ever, to occupy attention; but it is remarkable that Frith, 
 although he had plunged deeply into theology, and rejected the 
 doctrine of transubstantiation, continued to deprecate all public 
 controversies on the subject, and was alone induced, by the 
 solicitations of certain religious friends, to commit to paper those 
 well-digested arguments which formed the grounds of his inter- 
 nal convictions. Carelessness or treachery led to their publica- 
 tion; and Frith, who, from motives of humanity, might have 
 hesitated to proclaim his tenets at this perilous crisis, felt him- 
 self imperatively bound by honour to defend them ; and, after a 
 manly vindication of their truth, sealed his faith with the crown 
 of martyrdom. 
 
 boldly answered, — '' Our captain is necessity, a,nd poverty is our com- 
 rade." The Duke felt the truth of the sentiment, and the -wretched 
 vagrants found mercy. 
 * See Strype, Collier, &c. 
 24 
 
278 ^^M LATIMER. 
 
 Although Anne appears to have been uniformly opposed to 
 persecution^ she was in this instance counteracted by Gardiner, 
 and by the King's pertinacious zeal for the Catholic church. 
 But if Anne was not permitted to rescue Frith, she had soon 
 after the happiness to achieve the deliverance of the celebrated 
 Hugh Latimer, who, from a persecutor, was become a champion 
 of the new sect, and, with characteristic zeal, now defended those 
 principles he had formerly condemned. His apostasy excited 
 alarm ; and, in the depth of winter, he was summoned from his 
 vicarage to answer for his innovation before Stokesly, Bishop of 
 London, by whose authority he was committed to prison. Alone 
 and unprotected, Latimer was now the devoted victim of bigotry 
 and malice; but Anne's humanity became his advocate. In the 
 full tide of fortune and felicity, she watched over the safety of one, 
 of whom she only knew that he dared to preach as he believed, 
 and to practise what he preached. Lnpressed with her solicitations, 
 the King interposed, and the pastor was restored to life and 
 liberty. Anxious to see and hear the preacher so celebrated 
 for the force and pathos of his eloquence, the Queen had but 
 to intimate her wish, and it was gratified. But it was with the 
 firmness and simplicity of an apostle that Latimer came to court, 
 not to flatter, but to admonish or reprove ; to expose the vanity 
 of human expectations ; to exalt the dignity and importance of 
 the relative duties, and to call the mind to the awful contempla- 
 tion of eternity. Anne received with docility, or rather, perhaps, 
 imbibed with enthusiasm, the lessons of her austere monitor ; 
 and, with the earnestness that marks sincerity, entreated him 
 to point out whatever appeared amiss in her conduct and deport- 
 ment. Latimer replied not as a courtier but as a sage, who 
 despised the blandishments of women, and had long been insen- 
 
LATIMER. 279 
 
 sible to the influence of beauty ; he seriously exhorted the Queen 
 to inculcate the duties of morality and piety on her attendants, 
 and strenuously to enforce her precepts by example."^ 
 
 In lending protection to Latimer, Anne might be prompted 
 by compassion, or' enthusiasm, or even that love of popularity 
 which appears to have been her ruling passion; but the esteem 
 and attachment she afterwards manifested for this rigid teacher, 
 bespeaks a strength of character, and indicates capacities for 
 thinking and feeling, never to be found in an ordinary mind ; 
 nor would it be candid to refer to policy alone a conduct evidently 
 arising from purer motives and nobler sentiments. But it may 
 be asked, why it should appear incredible, that Anne was really 
 penetrated by the force of those arguments to which she listened 
 with reverence ? Kaised to the summit of human greatness, 
 fatigued with the cares, and, perhaps, even cloyed with the plea- 
 sures of ambition, why should she not at length seek happiness or 
 tranquillity, where only they are to be found, in the fiiithful 
 discharge of moral and religious duties ? 
 
 Under the auspices of Latimer, a striking change was effected 
 in the exterior of Anne's court : habits of industry and applica- 
 tion were introduced ; the Queen not only assisted in the tapes- 
 try, which afterwards embellished Hampton Court, f but, by her 
 
 * See Strype, Fox, and Gilpin's Life of Latimer. 
 
 t "Those that have seen, at Hampton Court, the rich and exquisite 
 works, for the greater part wrought by her own hand and needle, and 
 also of her ladies, esteem them the most pretious furniture, that are 
 to be accounted amongst the most sumptuous that any prince might be 
 possessed of; and yet far more rich and pretious were those works in 
 the sight of God, which she caused her maidens, and those about her, 
 daily to vroork, in shirts and smocks for the poorc ; but not staying here, 
 
280 THE COURT. 
 
 own example^ encouraged the ladies to work for the poor : to 
 discountenance levity and idleness, she presented to each of them 
 a small manuscript volume, moral or devotional, which was sub- 
 stituted for the looking-glass, or the legend of chivalry,* for- 
 merly appended to the girdle. By this strictness she perhaps 
 created enemies; but that the King approved her conduct, is 
 evident, from the promotion of Latimer to the see of Worcester : 
 nor can he he supposed to have limited her munificence, which 
 must have far exceeded the queenly revenue. With equal wis- 
 dom and liberality, she directed a certain sum to be distributed 
 to every village in England, for the relief of its poor or dis- 
 tressed inhabitants. In imitation of her father and Wolsey, she 
 maintained a certain number of promising youths at college, 
 and took upon herself the care of their future preferment.'!" To 
 many of these regulations she might have been prompted by 
 Cranmer, or aided by Cromwel; but to have discovered their 
 utility, and to have thus given a steady direction to the impulses 
 of benevolence, is equally creditable to the feelings of her heart 
 and the powers of her understanding. 
 
 During the first year of her marriage, Anne j)erceived no 
 diminution in Henry's attachment. Not even the disappoint- 
 
 lier eie of charity, her hand of bounty passed through the whole land ; 
 each place felt that heavenly flame hurning in her ; al times will re- 
 member it." Wiatt's Queen Anne Bolen. — Fox and Strype attest the 
 same facts. 
 
 "^ The popular reading of the day, so contemptuously stigmatized by 
 Ascham. 
 
 I Doctor Hethe and Sir William Paget, both originally patronized 
 by the Earl of Wiltshire, were afterwards protected by his daughter ; 
 as was Dr. Thirbly, afterwards Bishop of Ely. 
 
BIRTH OF ELIZABETH. 281 
 
 ment of his dearest hopes (which all centered in the possession 
 of a son), for whose accomplishment he had looked to her with 
 superstitious confidence ; not even the birth of a daughter, how- 
 ever contrary to his anticipations, deprived her of his tender- 
 ness; and he received, with becoming gratitude, the infant 
 Elizabeth, who was universally acknowledged his presumptive 
 heiress. The christening was solemnized with all the pomp of 
 royal magnificence ;* but to those, who, like the Duke of Nor- 
 
 ^ In the ordonnances of the Countess of Riclimond and Derby, it is 
 directed, that there should be provided for the Queen's bed, two pair 
 of sheets, of linen, each four yards broad, and five yards long ; two 
 head sheets, three yards broad, and four yards long ; two long, and 
 two square pillows of fustian, stuffed with fine down. A pane of scarlet, 
 furred with ermine, and embroidered with crimson velvet, upon velvet, 
 or rich cloth of gold ; and a head-sheet, of like cloth of gold furred 
 with ermine. A kevertour of fine lawn, of five breadths, and six yards 
 long ; a mattrass stuffed with wool ; a feather bed, with a bolster of 
 down ; a spawer of crimson satin, embroidered with crowns of gold ; 
 the King and Queen's arms, and other devices lined with double torle- 
 non, garnished with fringe of silk, blue, russet, and gold ; four cushions 
 of crimson damask cloth, cloth of gold ; a round mantle of crimson 
 velvet, plain furred with ermine, for the Queen to wear about her in 
 her pallet. In the christening procession, it was required, that a 
 duchess should carry the child, if a prince or earl ; if a princess, a 
 countess was to bear the train ; the church and altar were to be 
 hung with cloth of gold ; before the child were borne two hundred 
 torches, which, on reaching the church, were all placed around the 
 font ; the desk was to be elevated, to aflford the people an opportunity 
 of witnessing the ceremony. In the infant's hand was placed a small 
 taper, which he was to deposit on the altar. At the churchdoor, stood 
 the Serjeant of the King's pantry with a towel of reynes about his 
 neck, and a salt-cellar in his hand, ready to take a grain of the salt 
 24 * 
 
282 ELIZABETH'S HOUSHEOLD. 
 
 folk and his stepmotlier, and the Earl and Countess of Wiltshire 
 could recollect that similar honours had been showered on the 
 now disinherited Mary, this scene must have appeared a heartless 
 pageant, and the little princess herself but a mock idol, to he 
 worshipped or rejected according to the caprice of an imperious 
 father. 
 
 In the King, pride and policy concurred with aifection, in 
 suppressing the avowal of his regret ; and when the little girl 
 was only three months old, he occupied himself in forming the 
 establishment of her separate household. By this arrangement 
 Anne was divided from her child ; but she reigned in her hus- 
 band^s heart; and it seemed almost an article of national faith 
 to believe in the permanence of their mutual love and concord. 
 The artist and the sculptor were employed to commemorate the 
 circumstances of their romantic union 3 and wherever the ciphers 
 of the King and Anne Boleyn were presented, a true-love's 
 knot was added, in allusion to the tender sentiments which had 
 drawn them to each other. A curious sculpture at Cambridge, 
 of which the object was to eternize the memory of the monarch's 
 fondness, still remains to offer an illustration of the mutability 
 of human passions, more solemn, more impressive, than all that 
 the poet could invent or the moralist teach.* 
 
 before it was hallowed. In like manner, the serjeant of the ewer was 
 ready to present to the bishops and sponsors the basin to wash ; and 
 the officers of the spi-cery, as usual, were at hand with the voider of 
 spices. 
 
 ^ At Iving's College, Cambridge, the choir is separated from the ante- 
 chapel by a screen, added in 1534, in which are the initial ciphers of 
 Henry and Anne Boleyn, interlaced with a true-love's knot. In one 
 of the panels are displayed the arms of Boleyn, impaled with the arms 
 of England. It is well known that the custom of interlacing the 
 
SOURCES OF CHAGRIN. 283 
 
 But it belongs not to the greatest potentate to confer felicity. 
 Even in this fairest season of prosperity, Anne had a constant 
 source of chagrin, in the consciousness that her marriage, though 
 acknowledged in France, and some parts of Germany, was 
 disallowed in the other countries of Europe. 
 
 From a circumstance, in itself sujficiently trivial, she had the 
 mortification to discover, that the sympathy which Catherine had 
 inspired was not extinct, and that, in her name, the most con- 
 temptible agents possessed the means of inflaming the people. 
 The cause of this new chagrin was the nun of Bocking, an igno- 
 rant country girl, who, under the tuition of certain fanatics, 
 assumed the character of a prophetess, and boldly denounced 
 the King's death if he persisted in excluding Catherine for 
 Anne Boleyn. The imposture was easily detected ; but several 
 persons of distinction were involved in her delinquency, and, 
 among others. Sir Thomas More incurred the suspicion of having 
 
 ciphers of Mends or lovers was usual in France. Much of this gal- 
 lantry passed between Francis and his mistress, the Duchess of Hure- 
 poix. At the extremity of the Rue Gillecour, at the corner which it 
 now forms with the Rue Hurepoix, Francis the First erected a small 
 palace, communicating with an hotel that formerly belonged to the 
 Duchess D'Estampes, in the Rue Hirondelle. The fresco painting, the 
 pictures, the tapestry, the salamander, the well-known device of 
 Francis, with various tender emblems and gallant devices, seemed to 
 consecrate this elegant little mansion to love and pleasure. Of these 
 symbols, one of the most remarkable was a heart in flames, suspended 
 between an alpha and an omega, to denote eternal constancy. The 
 bathing-house of the duchess was converted to the stable of an inn, 
 called the Salamander. The apartment of Francis was metamorphosed 
 into a kitchen, and his lady's boudoir was in the occupation of a poor 
 laundress. — St. Foix's Essays on Paris. 
 
284 FATE OF FISHER AND MORE. 
 
 I 
 encouraged the nun's delusions. The charge was by him dis- 
 claimed, hut partially proved against Bishop Fisher ; who was 
 not only fined and imprisoned, but treated with the most inhu- 
 man severity. Many of the offenders were executed, and the 
 remainder werec only spared at the intercession of Anne Boleyn : 
 by this humane interference, she might justly hope to increase 
 her popularity with all parties, when another subject arose for 
 persecution in the Act of Succession, establishing the King's 
 supremacy, by which Plenry's marriage with Catherine was 
 declared unlawful, and the crown settled exclusively on the issue 
 of his beloved wife, Anne. 
 
 To this law, all the King's subjects, who should have at- 
 tained the age of sixteen, were required to swear allegiance. 
 Amongst the few who openly resisted, were Fisher and More : 
 the former accelerated his fate by consenting to accept from 
 the Pope a cardinal's hat, in defiance of the King's prohi- 
 bition of correspondence with the court of Rome.* Grreat 
 offence was given by the execution of this venerable prelate, for 
 his conscientious repugnance to a statute, by which he was re- 
 quired, in direct violation of his principles, to declare the King's 
 former marriage unlawful. The fate of More excited deep and 
 lasting regret. Unhappily this virtuous, but prejudiced man, 
 conceived he should compromise his religious principles, by 
 taking an oath, which, according to the letter of the statute, 
 impugned the legality of the King's former marriage : he offered 
 to swear allegiance to the King's issue by Queen Anne, but 
 rejected the clause which, by invalidating his prior engagements, 
 negatived the authority which he believed to reside in the Su- 
 
 ■^ Henry swore, that though the Pope should send the bishop a hat, 
 he would take care he should have no head to wear it. 
 
HENRY'S THEOLOGY. 285 
 
 preme Pontiff. It was in vain that Cromwel besought liiin to 
 reconsider the case, and rescind the sentence : even Henry 
 sought a pretext for saving his life, without infringing the legal 
 authorities. Anne Bolejn must still more passionately have 
 desired to avert a sacrifice, of which she alone would bear the 
 odium ; but More persisted, and, blending the resignation of 
 the saint with the magnanimity of the hero, appeared rather to 
 welcome than to deprecate his fate. The purity of his principles 
 has consecrated his name to posterity, and the errors of the per- 
 secutor are forgotten in the virtues of the martyr. 
 
 Nothing could be more unpropitious to Anne's interests than 
 these sanguinary measures ; and she observed, with alarm, the 
 fluctuations of Henry's wayward mind, who, although he had 
 assumed to himself the rights of supremacy; though he en- 
 grossed the tributes formerly offered to the Pope ; though he had 
 even prohibited all appeals to Rome, and all submission to the 
 Roman pontiff; yet, with that inconsistency peculiar to his 
 cliaracter, he still revolted from the disciples of Luther, and still 
 piqued himself on upholding, with the Catholic faith, many of 
 the grossest errors and superstitions engrafted on its principles. 
 But necessity at length compelled him to listen to the overtures 
 of the German princes who formed the league of Smalcalde. 
 Clement the Seventh was dead, and his successor, Paul the 
 Third, was likely to become a more formidable opponent. At 
 the pontiff's denunciations against himself and his realm, Henry 
 might smile with contempt ; but from his union with the Em- 
 peror he had serious cause to fear, since he could place little 
 confidence in the alliance of Francis, and had no resources but 
 to coalesce with some other European polentate. The German 
 Protestants, with more reason alarmed by the Emperor's hostility, 
 
286 MISSION TO GERMANY. 
 
 not only solicited his assistance, but offered to declare liim the 
 chief and protector of their confederacy. 
 
 Their importunities; seconded by the arguments of Cranmer 
 and Cromwel, were enforced by Anne's more persuasive elo- 
 quence. Henry was not really averse to a proposal so flattering 
 to his political pretensions ; nor was he, perhaps, aware, that to 
 Anne's character, and to the esteem and enthusiasm it inspired, 
 he chiefly owed this proof of confidence. It was well known, 
 that she pronounced that day lost in which she had not been 
 permitted to render to a Protestant some service. Her actions 
 justified her professions,* and she repeatedly called on Cromwel 
 to indemnify the merchants who had sustained any injury in 
 person or fortune by promoting the importation of Bibles, or 
 other tracts devoted to the popular cause. In England such 
 conduct might be referred to interest, or to humanity ; but in 
 Protestant Grermany, where all were inflamed with the zeal and 
 enthusiasm that characterize a new and rapidly increasing sect, 
 the Queen's liberality was proudly attributed to the triumph of 
 Lutheran principles. Unfortunately, the alliance with England, 
 for which, in reality, nothing was necessary but the recognition 
 of the same political interests, was supposed to require a perfect 
 sympathy in religious opinions. Drs. Fox and Hethe were sent 
 to Germany on a mission to the Lutheran divines, Avith whom 
 many conferences took place, of which the conclusion was little 
 satisfactory to the pride or prejudices of Henry, since even 
 Anne's popularity could not entice them to acknowledge the 
 legality of his divorce, and neither arguments nor promises 
 
 * See in Burnet and Strype her letter to Cromwel to redress the 
 •wrongs of a Protestant merchant, who had been persecuted for his zeal 
 in promoting the circulation of the Bible. 
 
HENRY AND THE MONKS. 287 
 
 atoned for his rejection of the Confession of Augsburg. It is, 
 however, more than probable, these difficulties might have been 
 obviated in a subsequent negotiation, but for the influence of 
 Gardiner, who was, at the same time, employed in an embassy 
 to France, which . afforded him facilities for counteractins: the 
 united efforts of Hethe and Melancthon, and rendering the whole 
 plan abortive. The unprosperous issue of the negotiation was a se- 
 vere disappointment to Anne, already mortified by the heavy pu- 
 nishments inflicted on certain religious fraternities, which refused 
 to acknowledge the King's supremacy. She appears not to have par- 
 ticipated in Henry's aversion for conventual establishments ; she at 
 least revolted from the harsh and illiberal means employed in their 
 suppression, and humanely engaged the intrepid Latimer to en- 
 force, in a sermon preached before the King, the impiety of 
 seizing, for his own use, the treasury which he had discovered 
 in the monasteries.* Henry had long stigmatized the monks as 
 the drones of the church, whom the better order of priests des- 
 pised, and the laity abhorred. To demonstrate the absurdity 
 and illiberality of indiscriminate censures against any particular 
 order of men, we have but to turn to Luther, who belonged to 
 a community of mendicant friars ; and if we would seek exam- 
 ples worthy of the purest ages of Christian heroism, they might 
 be found in the prior of the Charter-house, and his companions,f 
 
 * See Collier's Ecclesiastical History. 
 
 f To Houghton, who was venerated by the people, a pardon was 
 offered at the moment that he was approaching the scaffold, if he would 
 acknowledge the King's supremacy: he replied, "I call the Omni- 
 potent God to witness, that it is not out of obstinate malice I disobey 
 the King, but only for the fear of God, that I offend not the Supreme 
 Majesty of heaven." 
 
288 HOPES OF AN HEIR. 
 
 the origin of whose sufferings is forgotten in the magnanimity 
 with which they were supported. La Yalette and his Knights 
 of Malta expressed not more sublime sentiments than these 
 single-minded men; preferring death to the least infringement 
 of their voluntary engagement — in whom enthusiasm was not 
 kindled by the breath of fame, and whose fidelity asked no 
 recompense from the meed of glory. 
 
 Amidst other cares and chagrins incident to her situation, 
 Anne was not exempted from the jealousies of ambition; and 
 she sometimes admitted the apprehension, that if the King 
 coalesced not with the Protestant princes, he might ultimately 
 reconcile himself to the papal see ; an event she could not con- 
 template without the most serious alarm for her own personal 
 interest ; but to these unpromising anticipations was opposed a 
 circumstance calculated to inspire the most favourable presage. 
 In the third year of her marriage, she was again permitted to 
 flatter herself that she was destined to present to Henry the 
 long-desired blessing of a son. 
 
 Although, from his critical position with Charles and Francis, 
 such an auspicious hope was more than ever necessary to appease 
 the King's solicitude to transmit an undisputed succession; he 
 no longer lavished on his consort those tender attentions she had 
 been accustomed to expect, and to which she was now more than 
 ever entitled. Many circumstances might have gradually con- 
 spired to this change, although it had hitherto escaped observa- 
 tion. Since the period of her marriage, Anne's situation had 
 been essentially altered ; her mind expanded, her character deve- 
 loped ; instead of being merely the private gentlewoman, whose 
 highest ambition was to attract or please, she was become the 
 partner of the throne, the generous queen, who aspired to be a 
 true and affectionate mother of the people. 
 
JANE SEYMOUR. 289 
 
 The entliusiasm she delighted to inspire was far from pleasing 
 to Henry, now that the fervour of passion had subsided, and 
 that he no longer required talents or courage, but unwearied 
 adulation and unconditional obedience. To a jealous egotist 
 her best qualities had, perhaps, the effect of diminishing her 
 attractions ; by the zeal with which she carried into effect her 
 plans of reformation, she must have offended one accustomed to 
 consider himself as the sole and exclusive object of attention. 
 It was, perhaps, fatal to her safety, that, in the first transports 
 of affection, Henry had admitted her to a full participation of 
 all the honour and sovereignty formerly conceded to Catherine, 
 and that he not only caused her to be proclaimed Queen Consort 
 of England, but Lady of Ireland. "When love declined, it 
 might be suggested that he had sacrificed dignity, and even 
 hazarded security, by this prodigal dispensation. Another unfor- 
 tunate circumstance was his growing indifference to her father 
 and brother, and his prepossession for the Duke of Norfolk and 
 his sinister counsels. More fatal was the presence of Lady 
 Rochford ; who, repining at her exclusion from the confidential 
 conversation of her husband and his sister, conceived against 
 both a diabolical hatred, the most atrocious that ever polluted a 
 female bosom. All these causes combined, might, however, 
 have been inadequate to produce the desired end, but for another 
 agent, who soon gave a fatal impulse to Henry's imperious pas- 
 sions. 
 
 The precise period of Jane Seymour's introduction to court 
 is not known ; but it is intimated by Anne's biographer ("Wiatt), 
 that she was thrown in the King's way for the express purpose 
 of stealing his affections from his once idolized Queen. This 
 young lady was the daughter of Sir John Seymour, of Wolf 
 25 
 
290 JANE SEYMOUR. 
 
 Hall; in Wilts ;* lier two brothers were Esquires of the King's 
 person; ambitious men, eager in the pursuit of fortune, and 
 willing to derive every possible advantage from their sister's 
 beauty. That Jane was eminently distinguished by her personal 
 attractions must be admitted, since we hear of no other fascina- 
 tion that she possessed. Without the talents, the graces, the 
 sensibilities, which gave to Anne such inexhaustible variety of 
 charms, Jane possessed, however, that first bloom of youth which, 
 now that Henry had lost his youthful susceptibility of imagina- 
 tion, and perhaps original delicacy of taste, was powerfully 
 alluring. 
 
 It is probable that the inferiority of Jane's mental attainments 
 had also contributed to turn the balance in her favour. But what- 
 ever might be her powers of captivation, there is too much reason 
 to believe that she had a ready auxiliary in the Duke of Nor- 
 folk, who detested his niece, and execrated the reforming party. 
 At first, the King's attentions to Jane Seymour were clandestine. 
 Anne so little anticipated the impending evil, that her anxiety, 
 singularly misplaced, was directed towards Catherine, who if she 
 survived the King, would, she feared, be at the head of a party 
 
 * Sir John Seymour was descended from that William de Saint Mauro, 
 (afterwards contracted to Seimonr), who, by the aid of Gilbert, Earl 
 Marshal of Pembroke, recovered Wendy, in Monmouthshire, from the 
 Welsh, in 1240 (Henry the Third). William was of Norman extrac- 
 tion, and progenitor of that Seimour who married one of the daugh- 
 ters of Beauchamp of Hack, a rich baron, who traced his pedigree, in 
 the maternal line, to Sybil, a daughter of the great Earl of Pembroke. 
 The patrimony of the Seimours was augmented by marriage with the 
 heiress of Wolf Hall, one of the Esturmies of Wilts, and they were 
 hereditary guardians of the Forest of Saernbroke, near Marlborough ; 
 in memory of which, a hunter's horn, tipt with silver, was worn by the 
 Earls of Hereford. 
 
CATHERINE'S DEATH. 291 
 
 sufficiently formidable to annul the Act of Succession, with what- 
 ever rights or dignities it had conferred on herself and the 
 Princess Elizabeth. From these apprehensions she was sud- 
 denly relieved by the news of Catherine's death,* when she un- 
 guardedly exclaimed, ^^Now I am indeed a queen.'' On that 
 occasion, Anne, usually compassionate, showed less tenderness 
 than the selfish Henry ; and the few tears which he shed over 
 Catherine's letter, might have taught her she no longer possessed 
 his heart. 
 
 Under the influence of a new passion, and -detesting the ties 
 which severed him from Jane Seymour, Henry might justly 
 lament the sacrifices he had made to obtain an object he no 
 longer valued, not perhaps without internally reverting to that 
 season of youth, when he had pledged his faith to a royal bride. 
 Reflections such as these, could not but produce in his mind a 
 temporary sadness, soon succeeded by eager solicitude to transfer 
 to himself whatever property had been possessed by his divorced 
 wife.f A few days after this event, Anne, who had at length, 
 perhaps, received some intimation of her lord's inconstancy, 
 fatally for herself, surprised Jane Seymour listening with com- 
 
 * Catherine died at Kimbolton, in Huntingdonshire. 
 
 f In her -will, Catherine surrendered everything to the King, whom 
 she persisted in addressing as her most dear husband, without naming 
 any executor, saying, "she had nothing to give." On this occasion, 
 Riche, afterwards Lord Chancellor, advised the King, on the grounds of 
 some legal informality, to djchirc her will void, and, instead of seizing 
 her goods, to apply to the Bishop of Lincoln, in whose diocese she had 
 been at the time of death, to grant an administration of her goods to 
 such persons as his Highness should appoint; and by this means Henry 
 obtained possession of the property, no part of which was appropriated 
 in the manner the Queen had requested. 
 
292 ILLNESS OF ANNE. 
 
 placency to his protestations of regard^ and submitting, without 
 reluctance, to his tender caresses.* 
 
 At the first glance, Anne stood transfixed with amazement ; but, 
 in an instant, she comprehended that her prosperity was de- 
 parted : nature sunk under the conflict of contending emotions, 
 and she was prematurely delivered of a dead son. For some 
 time her recovery was doubtful : life at length prevailed, and 
 she received a visit from her royal husband ; not to commiserate 
 her sorrows, but upbraidingly to proclaim his own irreparable 
 disappointment. Agonized by this brutal reproach, and the 
 bitter recollections it awakened, the unhappy Queen rashly re- 
 minded him, that the calamity had been caused by his unkind- 
 ness. 
 
 These words sealed her fate. Unused to reproof, Henry mut- 
 tered a fatal prediction, too soon verified,'}" and left her to an- 
 
 * Sanders. — Heylin. 
 
 It is difficult to conceive on what principles of morality Jane Sey- 
 mour has been extolled for her superlative modesty and virtue. It 
 does not appear, that Henry ever offered to her dishonourable propo- 
 sals ; but she certainly scrupled not to encourage his clandestine ad- 
 dresses, and to walk over Anne's corse to the throne. It may, per- 
 haps, be said, that she was merely the agent of her brothers' ambi- 
 tion ; even this cannot excuse the coarse apathy with which she sub- 
 mitted to become Henry's wife on the very day when he had destroyed 
 her rival. Both Catholics and Protestants have extolled this lady ; the 
 former from malevolence to her predecessor, the latter from complai- 
 sance to her son. The Princess Mary, who alone from filial feelings 
 had cause to hate Anne Boleyn, might be pardoned for this invidious 
 partiality. 
 
 f This account is corroborated by Sanders, Heylin, and other wri- 
 ters, and the circiimstance is pointedly alluded to in Anne's letter to 
 
DESIGNS OF HENRY. 293 
 
 ticipate and to deplore the consequences of one impetuous 
 moment. After Catherine's death, Henry had but to reconcile 
 himself to the Church of Rome, and to rescind his late acts, to 
 annul his marriage with Anne, and secure the privilege of ele- 
 vating his favourite to the throne ; but whilst his obstinacy re- 
 fused concessions to the Pope, his avarice equally opposed the 
 restitution which he should have had to offer to the English 
 clergy ; and pride forbade him to re-establish those ecclesiastical 
 abuses for which he had loudly proclaimed hostility and con- 
 tempt. 
 
 Under such circumstances, to repudiate Anne would be dis- 
 creditable, and having resolved to criminate her conduct, he 
 easily discovered an offence, for which, in his eyes, she deserved 
 to die ; that if she survived, she might interfere with the claims 
 of his posterity by Jane Seymour. 
 
 At this period, Henry was himself in a precarious state of 
 
 the King. — <' It was reported," says Wiatt, "that the Iviuge came to 
 her, and bewailinge and complaininge to her of the los of his hoy, some 
 words were heard breake out of the inward feelinge of her hart's do- 
 lours, lainge the fait upon unkindnes, which the Kinge more than was 
 cause (her case at this time considered) tooke more hardly than other- 
 wise he would, if he had not bin somewhat too much overcome with 
 griefe, or not so much alienat. Wise men in those daise judged that 
 her virtue was here her defalt, and that if her to much love could, as 
 wel as the other Queeue, have borne with his defect of love, she might 
 have falen into les danger, and in the end have tied him the more 
 ever after to her, when he had seene his errour, and that she might 
 the rather have doone respectinge the general libertie and custome of 
 feelinge then that way. Certainly from hensfourth the harme still more 
 increased, and he was then heard to say to her, he would have no more 
 boise by her." ^ 
 
 25* 
 
294 LADY ROCHFORD. 
 
 health ; a circumstance that, far from softening, inflamed the 
 ferocity of his nature. His despotic will had long extended 
 "beyond the grave, and he desired, and even demanded, to legis- 
 late for posterity; adopting the convenient maxim, that the 
 means were sanctified by the end, he again descended to the 
 meanness formerly employed with Catherine, that of planting 
 spies around his once beloved Queen, and thus stimulated or 
 invited the malicious communications of Lady Rochford, who, 
 without encouragement, could not have ventured to obtrude 
 her real or pretended jealousies on his attention. 
 
 To destroy the envied Anne Boleyn, this abandoned woman 
 scrupled not to accuse her husband of participation in a crime 
 abhorrent to nature, and of which it argues depravity even to 
 admit the belief. Henry perhaps considered as treasonable the 
 frequent interviews of the brother and sister, which, whether 
 they referred to Jane Seymour, or the progress of reformation, 
 equally militated against his august supremacy. To secure the 
 agency of Lady Rochford, though important, was not decisive ; 
 since her testimony might be rebutted by that of other ladies 
 of unblemished fame, who, with better opportunities for observ- 
 ing their mistress, had not the same motives to traduce her con- 
 duct. The constraint imposed by custom on a Queen Consort, 
 rendered it morally impossible* that she should wrong her lord, 
 without the knowledge and connivance of subordinate agents. 
 Entrammelled by ordonnances of state, all her movements were 
 watched, and in a manner registered, by the satellites of her 
 person, who intruded on the hours of privacy, and, without pre- 
 
 * TMs was so notorious, that, on the detection of Catherine Howard's 
 guilt, Lady Rochford was convicted of treason, on the ground of having 
 been accessary to the intrigue. 
 
ANNE'S CHARITIES. 295 
 
 suming to oppose her will, continually encroached on her liberty. 
 In reality, the Queen's conduct appears to have furnished no 
 plausible grounds for attainting her reputation. That after her 
 elevation she should have tempered dignity with affability, was 
 rather for praise than censure. She delighted to diffuse cheer- 
 fulness, and still more to dispense beneficence. Within the last 
 nine months, she had expended the sum of fifteen thousand 
 pounds on charities and other public and useful institutions. 
 The enthusiasm of party might have kindled her zeal for Pro- 
 testantism ; but it must have been the sympathies of a generous 
 and amiable nature that prompted the munificence perpetually 
 flowing in benefits to the people. During her long ante-nuptial 
 probation, she must have learnt to dismiss coquetry from her 
 attractions. The woman who had chosen Latimer and Shaxton 
 (afterwards bishop of Sarum) to be her chaplains, who sought 
 to effect a reformation in the manners of her court, and gloried 
 in the reputation she had acquired by Lutheranism, such a woman 
 was, of all others, the least likely to have risked her safety for 
 the gallant attentions of the most accomplished courtier. As a 
 proof of her prudence in this respect, it may be observed, that 
 neither Wiatt, whom she really admired, nor the Earl of North- 
 umberland, by whom she had been passionately beloved, were 
 implicated in the suspicion ; and for this obvious reason, that the 
 general propriety of her conduct must have deprived such a 
 charge of all colourable probability. The pretended paramours 
 were only to be found in men to whom she was peculiarly acces- 
 sible, — her personal attendants, or a justly-beloved brother. 
 Among the most fatal of her indiscretions, was the intimacy 
 which she cultivated with many individuals of her own sex, and 
 the facility with which she yielded her unreserved confidence to 
 
296 NORRIS. 
 
 female flatterers^ ever ready to ascribe the homage of the young-er 
 courtiers to tender or romantic sentiments. 
 
 Another circumstance prejudicial to her safe ty^ was the pre- 
 carious state of the King's health. 
 
 That a queen dowager should intermarry with a nobleman or 
 private gentleman, was no unfrequent occurrence, as the King's 
 two sisters had evinced by their example : it was, therefore, not 
 unlikely that the more brilliant courtiers might speculate on 
 such a probable contingency. For Henry, it was enough that 
 such motives could be imputed to them by the idle gossips of 
 the court ; and on this slight and vague surmise, was built one 
 of his most important accusations. 
 
 Amongst the acknowledged favourites of the royal household 
 were two gentlemen of the bedchamber, Norris and Weston, who 
 had long been admitted to the King's confidential intimacy, and 
 who were of the select number at all hours admitted to his privy 
 chamber. To these gentlemen, Anne originally, perhaps from 
 deference to her lord's pleasure, had shown particular courtesy, 
 and till the period of his estrangement he was pleased that she 
 should so distinguish the objects of his preference. When 
 Henry neglected his wife's society, these gentlemen had too 
 much real delicacy of sentiment to withdraw the homage they 
 had been accustomed to offer to their Queen ; but their motives 
 could not be appreciated in a court where honour was so little 
 understood. It was whispered that Norris aspired to the future 
 possession of his fair mistress, and some idle or malicious calum- 
 niators had the effrontery to maintain that he was already her 
 favoured lover ; nor was it only of her enemies that Anne re- 
 ceived injuries. By the interference of judicious friends, she 
 was apprised of the scandal industriously circulated against her ; 
 
WESTON. 297 
 
 and conceiving that such rumours must be injurious to the hopes 
 she still entertained of regaining the King's affections, she 
 determined to make an effort to induce Norris to confute the 
 tale, by marrying a lady, to whom it was supposed he had been 
 long engaged. Relying on his friendship and honour, she asked 
 him why he did not proceed with his projected marriage : he 
 confessed he had relinquished the engagement. Mortified at her 
 disappointment, Anne abruptly announced the injury she sus- 
 tained by the suspicions affixed to his conduct : he replied by 
 disclaiming all selfish motives, with the indignant feelings of a 
 man of honour. That, however, he was not alienated from her 
 interests, appears by the promptitude with which, in obedience 
 to her mandate, he went to her almoner to protest his firm and 
 immutable faith in the Queen's virtue. Some part of this con- 
 versation had been overheard ; and one of Anne's expressions, 
 (^^ if ought but good should happen to the King, ye would think 
 to have me,") was afterwards made, by a strained construction, 
 to convict her of having imagined and conspired the King's 
 death. In Weston she appears not to have reposed equal con- 
 fidence : although a married man, he allowed himself, according 
 to the manners of the day, to address, as a lover, a young lady 
 (Mrs. Skelton), who happened to be one of the Queen's relations. 
 Whether Anne was prompted by sympathy for the neglected 
 wife, or whether she hoped to produce a reformation in her 
 courtiers, she ventured to offer an expostulation which was little 
 relished. Weston interrupted her admonitions with a declara- 
 tion of gallantry, by which her pride, if not her delicacy, was 
 offended, and they parted with mutual displeasure. 
 
 No situation could be more painful than that of the woman 
 so lately the object of envy and adoration. During three months 
 
298 TROUBLES OF ANNE. 
 
 she assiduously endeavoured to regain tlie King's affections^ by 
 cheerful submission and obsequious silence ; but the perturbation 
 of her feelings perpetually impelled her to require information 
 of his movements. She learned with dismay that his clandes- 
 tine meetings with Jane Seymour continued; and whether she 
 were wooed as a mistress, or wife, from her knowledge of Henry's 
 character, she discovered a mystery in his conduct that justified 
 the most ominous forebodings. The agitation of her mind rob- 
 bed her of repose ; and even in her dreams she is said to have 
 been haunted by images of calamity and death.* In the court 
 of the despotic Henry, his suspected hostility was alone sufficient 
 to raise against the unfortunate Anne a host of real foes. By 
 the Catholics she was conscientiously detested, as the fatal cause 
 of schism with the Romish church. The old politicians, recol- 
 lecting the tragical fate of Edward the Fifth, deprecated the 
 evils of a disputed succession ; even the Protestants, to whom 
 she was endeared as a friend and protectress, possessed too little 
 power to brave the King's displeasure. Thus, political calcula- 
 tions conspired with personal interests to accelerate the fall of 
 Anne Boleyn. Under any circumstances she would have been 
 subjected to calumnious misrepresentations; but at no other 
 moment would Henry have allowed them to be circulated with 
 impunity. In the present instance, he eagerly availed himself 
 of a frivolous slander to institute a private inquisition on the 
 Queen's conduct, but with an inflexible resolution to pronounce 
 her guilty. f 
 
 * See Fox. 
 
 f If we may believe Meteren, the slander to wliich the King's suspi- 
 cions were ostensibly attributed, originated in the flippant answer of 
 a Frenchwoman to a reproving brother, "that the Queen allowed 
 
THE KING'S POLICY. 299 
 
 That the King had preconcerted his plan, and ah-eadj decided 
 her fate, is evident by his having even in April convoked the 
 parliament which was to exonerate him from the consequences 
 of his now detested union, and abrogate the late act of succes- 
 sion in favour of his dearly-beloved Anne and her posterity. In 
 thus prejudging her cause, he inadvertently furnished a strong 
 presumption of her innocence. 
 
 On May-day, according to ancient usage, a tournament was 
 held at Greenwich, at which Anne, for the last hour of triumph, 
 attired with royal magnificence, was as usual the supreme object 
 of attraction. Lord Rochford was the challenger, and Norris 
 the defendant. The King had for some time looked on with 
 complacency ; when he suddenly quitted the balcony with a 
 countenance of stern displeasure.* Alarmed by his deport- 
 ment, Anne no longer attended to the mock-combat, but took 
 the earliest opportunity to withdraw from the balcony. That 
 
 gentlemen at all hours to enter her chamber." On the strength of 
 this report, Henry required Weston, Norris, and Brereton, to furnish 
 proofs ; but they denied the fact ; nor was any other evidence obtained 
 than that of Lady Rochford, to criminate the Queen. On one occasion 
 only, it appeared that her brother, George Boleyn, had been seen to 
 whisper in her ear before she had risen from her bed. 
 
 * It has been pretended by Sanders that Henry's jealousy was ex- 
 cited by seeing Norris wipe his face with a handkerchief the Queen 
 had dropped from her balcony ; but this circumstance is neitlier men- 
 tioned in our old chroniclers, nor alluded to by Wiatt, her more minute 
 biographer. The information of Sanders alone is scarcely admissible; 
 and Lord Herbert, in quoting him, evidently distrusts the authority; 
 besides, Anne's fate was already decreed ; writs had some days before 
 been issued for the parliament which was to abrogate every preceding 
 act passed in her favour. 
 
300 ARREST OF WESTON AND NORRIS. 
 
 night she passed in anxious suspense ; nothing transpired till the 
 mornings when Weston, Norris, and two other gentlemen, were 
 arrested and committed to the Tower. That Henry really enter- 
 tained suspicions of Weston and Norris, is to the last degree 
 improbable, since he is said to have expressed repugnance to the 
 commitment of the former gentleman; a sentiment of which, 
 had he not known the charges to be false, his vindictive spirit 
 was wholly incapable. Accustomed to modify his opinions by 
 his passions, he might easily persuade himself that Weston and 
 Norris were in possession of such circumstances as might sub- 
 stantially confirm the accusation ; and he, therefore, eagerly 
 offered them indemnity, on condition that they should become 
 the Queen's accusers. Baffled in his purpose, he no longer hesi- 
 tated what course to take, and they were doomed to perish the 
 victims of his policy, or, it might be, of his pride and ven- 
 geance. 
 
 During some hours after their arrest Anne remained in igno- 
 rance of their common calamity ; but when, at the accustomed 
 hour, she sat down to dinner, she observed an unusual expres- 
 sion of seriousness in her ladies, neither of whom chose to be 
 the harbinger of misfortune. Scarcely was the surnap removed 
 ere the Duke of Norfolk, and other Lords of the council, with 
 Sir Thomas Audley, entered her apartment. The duke ap- 
 proached not with his accustomed courtesy j Sir Thomas Aud- 
 ley followed with visible reluctance; but the sudden apparition 
 of Kingston, the Grovernor of the Tower, at once revealed her 
 fate ; and shrieking with horror, she demanded the reason of 
 their coming. She was briefly answered by her uncle, — " It is 
 His Majesty's pleasure that you should depart to the Tower.'' 
 — ^'If it be His Blajesty's pleasure," replied Anne, regaining 
 
ANNE COMMITTED TO THE TOWER. 301 
 
 her self-possession, " I am ready to obey ;" and without waiting 
 even to change her dress, she intrepidly committed herself to 
 their custody. She was no sooner seated in the barge, than the 
 Duke of Norfolk entered on the examination, by pretending that 
 the guilty paramours had already substantiated the charges 
 against her. She replied but by protestations of innocence; 
 demanding with vehemence to be permitted to see the King, 
 and to offer her personal vindication. To all her asseverations, 
 the Duke of Norfolk replied but by shaking his head with an 
 expression of incredulous contempt; the other peers were not 
 more respectful. Sir Thomas Audley alone disdained the un- 
 manly baseness, and by every delicate attention endeavoured to 
 soften the anguish of a desolate woman. Never, perhaps, was 
 there a situation more calculated to call forth pity than that of 
 the deserted being who was yesterday a Queen, and to-day a 
 culprit : three years had scarcel}'" passed, since she left the same 
 palace to be invested with the insignia of royalty, — to be hailed 
 and idolized as the most fortunate of women. Two hundred boats 
 had then followed in her train, to share the falcon's triumph. 
 She was now conveyed to the Tower in a solitary barge, without 
 friends or protectors. She approached not under the auspices 
 of the mayor and his loyal companions ; no discharge of artil 
 lery announced her presence; nor was she welcomed by the 
 burst of sympathy, or the triumphant sound of popular accla- 
 mation. Of all the honours conferred at her coronation, no- 
 thing remained but the empty title of Queen, and an awful pre- 
 eminence of misery. 
 
 Before she quitted the barge, she fell on her knees, solemnly 
 invokins: God to attest her innocence. Then once more besought 
 the duke to persuade the King to li.sten to her vindication. To 
 26 
 
302 ANNE'S IMPRISONMENT. 
 
 this entreaty her unfeeling kinsman vouclisafed no answer, but 
 left her to the care of Kingston,* the Grovernor of the Tower, 
 with whose inauspicious name were associated terror and despair. 
 With his assistance Anne once more ascended those stairs she 
 had lately passed in triumph, when the King himself stood 
 ready to receive her, with all the ardour of impassioned love. 
 Kingston was now her only conductor, and of him, she inquired 
 whither she was to he conveyed, and whether he meant to lodge 
 her in a dungeon? — "No, Madam,^' he replied; "but to the 
 same lodging that you had before, at your coronation." In an 
 instant, Anne felt the gulf into which she was precipitated ; and 
 giving herself up for lost, passionately exclaimed, "It is too 
 good for me ;'^ as an unfortunate peer, under the influence of 
 similar feelings, had, a few years before, declined the honours 
 still offered to his rank, which, he said, belonged not to the 
 wretched caitiff who had ceased to be Buckingham. In like 
 manner, Anne shed a torrent of tears, too plainly perceiving that 
 she had ceased to be the idolized Queen of Henry the Eighth; 
 
 * The following anecdote sufficiently illustrates Kingston's charac- 
 ter. — " One Bowyer, mayor of Bodmin, in Cornwall, had been amongst 
 the rebels, not willingly, but enforced : to him the Provost Kingston 
 sent word he would come and dine with him, for whom the mayor made 
 great provision. A little before dinner, the Provost took the mayor 
 aside, and whispered in the ear, that an execution must that day be 
 done in the town, and therefore he must set up two gallows : the mayor 
 did so. After dinner Sir William Kingston thanked him for his enter- 
 tainment, and then desired him to bring him to the gallows. He then 
 asked whether they were strong enough? 'I warrant thee,' said the 
 mayor. 'Then,' rejoined Sir William, <get you upon them.' — 'I!' 
 said the mayor ; 'you mean not as you speak.' — 'Nay, sir, you must 
 die, for you have been a busy rebel.' " 
 
HER DEPORTMENT IN TRISON. 803 
 
 and was now but the poor persecuted Anne Boleyn. At length 
 recovering from this extreme dejection, she inquired of Kingston, 
 when he had seen her father ? then eagerly exclaimed, ^^ Oh ! 
 where is my sweet brother ?" Not willing to confess that he 
 was already committed to the same prison, Kingston evaded 
 this question. And Anne, collecting her spirits, resumed, — 
 " Mr. Kingston, I hear I shall be accused by three men ; yet, 
 though they should open my body (and she emphatically opened 
 her robe), I could but say nay, nay." Then, mentally reverting 
 to her late conversation with Norris, she cried, " And hast thou, 
 too, Norris, accused me ? and we shall die together I" At this 
 moment, the recollection of the proud Couii4ess of Wiltshire 
 rushed to her mind, and she loudly exclaimed, " Oh ! my mother, 
 thou wilt die with sorrow." She then deplored the illness of 
 Lady Worcester, whom she had left at the palace overwhelmed 
 with grief, pathetically adding, "It is all for the cause of meV^ 
 Her next question to Kingston was, whether she should have 
 justice? ^'Yes, Madam, the poorest subject has justice." To 
 this assurance she replied but by a convulsive laugh ; impressed 
 perhaps with the conviction that she was in reality more un- 
 friended than the poorest subject. When she again spoke, it 
 was to entreat that she might receive the sacrament in a closet 
 adjoining her chamber. The storm of conflicting passions now 
 subsided ; and, having anchored her hopes on another world, she 
 appeared comparatively serene and cheerful. It should be re- 
 membered as an important fact, that even when impressed with 
 the belief that Weston and Norris had really conspired against 
 her, she persisted in asserting her innocence. The day after 
 her commitment, she pressed Kingston to convey for her a letter 
 to Cromwel; but, although he excused himself from performing 
 
304 ANNE'S ATTENDANTS. 
 
 this office^ lie readily offered to repeat to tlie secretary whatever 
 the Queen should be pleased to communicate. Anne thanked him 
 for the civility, hut declined accepting it. She had soon occasion 
 to detect the ungenerous spirit of Henry, in the ladies selected 
 to be her companions in prison, of whom she once remarked, 
 with her wonted frankness, that she thought it very unkind of 
 the King to plant around her those she so little loved. For this 
 procedure there was, however, an obvious reason ; since it was 
 hoped, by their agency, to draw from her some acknowledgment 
 which might hereafter be wrested to her prej udice. Anne, as might 
 naturally be expected, fell into the snare, by repeating the conver- 
 sations she had laiely held with Norris and Weston. She detailed 
 in what manner she had besought the former to vindicate her fame, 
 and by what means she had incurred the displeasure of the 
 latter. Of Mark Smeton,* the musician, she appeared to know 
 nothing ; and protested that he had never but once been admit- 
 ted within her apartments, when he had been summoned to play 
 on the virginals. During some of these explanations, her aunt, 
 Lady Edward Boleyn, observed, with more truth than tender- 
 ness, "Had you never listened to such tale-bearers, you had 
 never been in this situation." There were moments when Anne 
 seemed to feel it impossible that the King should really single 
 out for destruction the wife he had so lately loved ; and she once 
 said, with a smile, she thought he d:d it but to prove her. At 
 her second examination before the Duke of Norfolk, she received 
 new indignities, of which she loudly complained, protesting, that 
 by Cromwel alone she had been treated with decency : even by 
 
 * Of this miscreant nothing has been recorded, but that he was low- 
 born, and a musician. There can be little doubt that he was suborned 
 lijy Anne's enemies to promote her ruin. 
 
HER ANSWER TO HENRY. 305 
 
 hinij though evidently convinced of her innocence, she was un- 
 willingly abandoned to the King's vengeance. Cranmer alone 
 made a feeble and abortive effort in her favour. At length 
 Henry sent a message; enforced by a visit from Lady Rochford, 
 requiring her, by prompt and ample confession, to atone for her 
 criminal conduct. By this last cruel and deliberate insult, her 
 eyes were opened to her true situation : and no longer doubting 
 of her fate, she appears not to have even cherished a wish to 
 preserve her existence. This sentiment she expressed with much 
 dignity in her last message to the King, when, after having 
 thanked him for his signal bounties, she added, ^' From a private 
 gentlewoman he raised me to a marchioness, from a marchioness 
 to a queen ; and now, that he can no farther advance me in this 
 world, he is about to make me a saint in Heaven.'' It was after 
 this severe trial, that Anne wrote or dictated the following letter, 
 addressed to the King, but which was destined never to meet 
 his eye.* 
 
 * The authenticity of this letter, afterwards found among Cromwel's 
 papers, has been repeatedly called in question ; but, whether it were 
 written by Anne Boleyn, or an abler pen, it seems undeniable that it 
 was composed under her direction, and that it contains a genuine 
 transcript of her sentiments and feelings. The allusions to her peculiar 
 situation are such as could scarcely have been introduced by any in- 
 diiferent person. During her imprisonment Anne was visited by the 
 sister of Wiatt, her beloved Mrs. Margaret Lee. It is not improbable 
 that the outline of this letter received its polish from Wiatt's elegant 
 pen ; and it is worthy of remark, that although he was not suspected 
 of being her paramour, he was, after her death, committed to the Tower 
 for having been her friend. Loyd says, *' he got into trouble about the 
 aflFair of Queen Anne ; her favour raised him, and her friendship nearly 
 ruined him." In "Wiatt's Life of Queen Anne Boleyn, allusion is made 
 2G* 
 
306 ANNE'S LAST LETTER TO HENRY. 
 
 Queen Anne Boleyn^s last letter to King Henry. 
 '' Sir, 
 ^^ Your Gi-race'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 favour), by such an one 
 whom you know to he my 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 pro- 
 cure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform 
 your command. But let not Your G-race 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 now I find ; for the ground of my preferment being 
 
 to this circumstance ; but Ms disgrace was temporary. Henry knew 
 his worth, and with him had no motive to be vindictive. Of those who 
 insist that the letter was not written by Anne Boleyn, it is fair to in- 
 quire, by whom, and for what purpose, it could have been fabricated ? 
 Surely, not by Cromwel. With regard to Wiatt, it is worthy of remark, 
 that two years after Anne's death, he was charged by Bonner with 
 having said that " Henry deserved to be thrown into the sea." Wiatt 
 repelled the accusation ; but it was probably grounded on the indig- 
 nation he had really expressed at the sacrifice of Anne Boleyn, 
 * Probably the Duke of Norfolk. 
 
ANNE'S LAST LETTER TO HENRY. 307 
 
 on no surer foundation than Your Grace's fancy, the least altera- 
 ation, I knew, was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some 
 other subject. 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 honour, good Your Grace let 
 not any light fancy, or bad counsel of mine enemies, withdraw 
 your princely favour from, me; neither let that stain, that un- 
 worthy 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 my innocency 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 law- 
 fully 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 being not igno- 
 rant of my suspicion therein.* But if you have already deter- 
 mined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous slan- 
 der 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 unprincelyand cruel 
 usage of me, at his general judgment-seat, where both you and 
 
 * This passage confirms the account given in Wiatt. 
 
308 ANNE'S DEPORTMENT. 
 
 myself must shortly appear, and in whose judgment, I doubt 
 not (whatsoever the world may think of me), mine innocence 
 shall he openly known, and sufficiently cleared. My last and 
 only request shall he, that myself may only bear the burthen of 
 Your Grace's displeasure, and that it may not touch the inno- 
 cent souls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I understand) are 
 likewise in strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have 
 found favour 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 Grrace any farther, 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 dole- 
 ful prison in the Tower, this sixth of May. 
 
 ^^ Your most loyal and 
 
 ever faithful wife, 
 
 ^^Anne Boleyn." 
 
 On her first commitment to the Tower, Anne betrayed strong 
 alternations of feeling : sometimes fancied she should regain the 
 King's heart, and that he merely tried her faith; sometimes, 
 with passionate vehemence, desired that her Bishops should in- 
 tercede in her favour : and there were moments when she even 
 seemed to expect that Heaven, by a supernatural interposition, 
 should avouch her innocence. After her second examination, 
 these transports subsided, and, on receiving the King's last 
 message, every earthly hope, almost every earthly feeling, seemed 
 extinguished : and, by the effort of despair, she rose above the 
 frailties, almost beyond the sufferings, of humanity. It is not 
 known who were her legal advisers ; but she was allowed no 
 advocate, and debarred from all intercourse with her parents. 
 At this privation, however, she appears not to have repined. 
 
HER TRIAL. 309 
 
 either because slie dared not expose her firmness to the trial of 
 meeting an afflicted mother, and, perhaps, self-accusing father, 
 or because she dreaded lest they should be involved in her fate. 
 For some days preceding her trial, she preserved cheerfulness 
 and composure; with much animation persisting in her inno- 
 cence. In the meantime unremitted efforts were made by the 
 King's agents to extort further evidence ; and it is even upon 
 record, that the solitary confession of Smeton was not deemed 
 sufficient to dear the King's honour f'' but it was in vain that 
 bribes or menaces were employed for the subornation of Anne's 
 women : even those by whom she was least loved had nothing 
 to allege against her; the perjuries of Lady Rochford had fur- 
 nished no substantial evidence ; and all that malice and treachery 
 could effect, was but to elicit something of a treasonable con- 
 struction from the Queen's conversation with Norris, in which 
 she had spoken of the King's probable dissolution. The fate 
 of the other culprits had been already decided at Westminster."}" 
 At length, on the memorable 15th of May, a judicial court 
 was erected in the King's Hall,J within the Tower, for the trial 
 of the Queen and her brother. At this tribunal presided the 
 Dake of Norfolk; on his right hand sat the Lord Chancellor, 
 
 ■^ Sir "William Baynton -writes to Sir William Fitzwilliams: — " Tliis 
 shall be to advertise you, that here is much communication, that no 
 man -svill confess any thing, but only Mark of any actual thing : ■where- 
 fore, in my foolish conceit, it should much touch the King's honour, 
 if it should no further appear." Burnet. 
 
 I Norris, Weston, Brcreton, and Smeton. Of the two last nothing is 
 known, but that they were ti-ied and condemned. Against Norris, 
 Weston, and Brereton, no other evidence was produced than the per- 
 jury of Smeton. 
 
 % This apartment was still in existence till the year 1778. 
 
310 THE TRIAL. 
 
 ^ 
 
 the Duke of Suffolk on his left ; before him the Earl of Surrey, 
 as Earl-marshal of England : to these were joined the Duke of 
 Richmond and twenty-four other peers, among whom was the 
 Earl of Northumberland; the juvenile lover of Anne Boleyn.* 
 At the appointed hour came the Queen, divested of royal state, 
 neatly and plainly attired ; with no other attendants than Lady 
 Kingston and Lady Edward Boleyn. Being placed in a chair, 
 she bowed respectfully to the assembly, who were irresistibly 
 won by her modest countenance and dignified deportment. 
 Among the strangers admitted to this court were the Lord Mayor, 
 certain distinguished citizens (doubtless those devoted to the 
 King's pleasure), and some few gentry. 
 
 For the first time in the annals of English history, a queen 
 was dragged before a criminal tribunal. Even Henry the Eighth 
 might, perhaps, have scrupled so to degrade a lady of royal birth 
 or princely connections; but he was conscious that Anne had 
 neither friends nor protectors, and was wholly left to his mercy 
 or his vengeance. The indictment being read, the Queen held 
 up her hand, and pleaded not guilty. The charge was then 
 opened, and accusations too monstrous to be detailed, and too 
 contradictory to be credited, were unblushingly rehearsed before 
 the astonished audience. In the first instance, something was 
 attempted to be proved from the pretended confession of a cer- 
 tain Lady Wingfield, who had, it was alleged, on her death-bed 
 disclosed disgraceful circumstances of the Queen's life ; but this 
 posthumous forgery, evidently intended to introduce the other ac- 
 
 ■^ It slioiild be remai-ked, that tliis numbei' included but half the 
 peerage of England ; an additional proof, if any were wanting, that 
 the jury was composed of such as should not venture to thwart the 
 King's pleasure. 
 
THE TRIAL. 311 
 
 cusation, was unsupported by the least evidence. To disguise 
 tlie weakness of the cause^ an elaborate charge was exhibited 
 against her; but the five confederates in guilt annihilate the 
 belief that even one paramour existed ; and it is obvious that 
 three of those five gentlemen were committed, not so much to 
 establish the queen's guilt, as to preclude them from vindicat- 
 ing her innocence. To the revolting calumnies proclaimed 
 against her, Anne listened with dignity; and, without losing 
 self-possession, calmly replied to each specific charge. Of the 
 witnesses produced, the depositions were vague and nugatory. 
 The prisoner looked in vain for Smeton, against whose perjuries 
 it was not deemed expedient to oppose her appeals to justice. 
 At length the prosecution closed, and Anne, unassisted by either 
 counsel or advocate, undertook her own defence in an eloquent 
 and able speech, which, as appears by an authentic document,* 
 excited a general expectation of acquittal ; but a difi'crent im- 
 pression was created in the bosom of the prisoner, who beheld 
 among her judges, not merely her enemies, but the slaves of a 
 tyrant's will. With the Dukes of Norfolk and Sufi"olk were as- 
 sociated the young Duke of Richmond (who had been taught to 
 prejudge the cause), and the Chancellor Audley, who was 
 
 * *' Having an excellent quick wit, and being a ready speaker, she 
 did so answer to all objections, that had the peers given in their ver- 
 dict according to the expectations of the assembly, she should have 
 been acquitted ; but they, among whom the Duke of Suffolk, the King's 
 brother-in-law, was chief and wholly applying himself to the King's 
 humour, pronounced her guilty : whereupon the Duke of Norfolk was 
 bound to proceed according to the verdict of the Peers, and comlemncd 
 her to death, either by being burnt on the Tower Green, or beheaded, 
 as His Majesty in his pleasure should think fit."— MS. Account in the 
 Harleian Miscellany. 
 
312 ANNE'S SPEECH. 
 
 required to make law consistent with injustice. Among these 
 lords she distinguished her well-wisher Cromwel, and Henry 
 Earl of Nothumberland. The latter sat with ill-disguised agita- 
 tion^ and at length, on the plea of indisposition;, abruptly quitted 
 the apartment before the peers had pronounced the fatal verdict. 
 In hearing her sentence, and that she should be burnt or be- 
 headed, Anne preserved an undismayed countenance; and, ac- 
 cording to the testimony of an eye-witness, lifting up her hands, 
 emphatically exclaimed, " Father ! Creator ! Thou art the 
 way, and the truth, and the life : Thou knowest that I have not 
 deserved this death.^^ Then turning herself to her judges, and 
 looking at her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, the Lord High Ste- 
 ward, she said, ^^ My Lord, I will not say that your sentence is 
 unjust, nor presume that my appeal ought to be preferred to the 
 judgment of you all. I believe you have reason and occasion 
 of suspicion and jealousy, upon which you have condemned me ; 
 but they must be other than those produced here in court ; for 
 I am entirely innocent of all these accusations, so that I cannot 
 ask pardon of Grod for them. I have been always a faithful and 
 loyal wife to the King ; I have not, perhaps, at all times shown 
 him that humility and reverence that his goodness to me, and 
 the honour to which he raised me, did deserve. I confess I 
 have had fancies and suspicions of him, which I had not strength 
 nor discretion to resist ; but Grod knows, and is my witness, that 
 I never failed otherwise towards him, and I shall never confess 
 any otherwise."* 
 
 * This is an extract from a letter written by a Erencli gentleman, 
 residing at that time in London, which is inserted in Meteren's Historia 
 Belgica, and appears entitled to at least as much credit as any other 
 historical document of the transaction. It should be observed, that 
 
CAUSE OF CONDEMNATION. 313 
 
 It is not clear on what grounds Anne Boleyn was convicted.* 
 It is certain that the evidence to support the charge of adultery 
 failed^f and that it was rather treason which was pretended to be 
 proved against her. The lawyers of that age were practised in 
 casuistry for entrapping innocence and perverting justice. Wiatt 
 conjectures that Anne was in reality condemned on the authority 
 of some old law, or by a dexterous misapplication of the statutej 
 
 this account agrees in every important circumstance with the brief 
 detail preserved among the Harleian MSS., and published in Mar- 
 grave's State Trials. Both ascribe to Anne perfect self-possession and 
 persuasive eloquence, and both agree in representing her as persisting 
 in her innocence. 
 
 * The indictment charged her with having conspired against the 
 King's life. In the case of Queen Catharine Howard, the fact of 
 adultery was simply stated ; but much circumlocution was employed 
 to array in terror the vague and contradictory charges against Anne 
 Boleyn. It is not pretended that either of her paramours was beloved, 
 but that she ambitiously desired, by their means, to rule in the realm 
 after the King's death, whose life was therefore presumed to be in 
 danger ; and in effect, as has been remarked by Dr. Lingard, he re- 
 ceived a parliamentary congratulation for his escape from the supposed 
 conspiracy. Although the original records of the trial have been de- 
 stroyed, sufficient evidence remains to warrant the conclusion, that 
 Anne was accused by perjury, and convicted by tyranny. See Statutes 
 of the Kealm. 
 
 I Of contemporary chroniclers, Polydore Virgil alone pretends that 
 she was detected in her guilt ; an assertion manifestly refuted by the 
 positive evidence of Kingston and Cromwel, without referring to his- 
 torical documents. 
 
 J "And I may say, by their leaves, it seems themselves they doubted 
 their proofes would prove their reproofes, when they durst not bringe 
 them to the proofe of the light in open place. For this principal matter 
 
 27 
 
314 CAUSE OF CONDEMNATION. 
 
 lately passed to insure lier personal protection ; namely, that by 
 wliicli it was declared treason to slander the king's issue by Anne 
 
 betweene the Queene and her brother, ther was brought forth indeede 
 witnes, his -wicked wife, accuser of her owne husband, even to the seek- 
 ing of his blood, which I believe is hardly to be shewed of any honest 
 woman, ever done ; but of her, the judgment that fel out upon her, 
 and the just punishment by law after, of her haughtiness, shew that 
 what she did was more to be rid of him, then of true ground against 
 him ; and that it seemeth those noble men, that went upon the Queen's 
 life, found in her trial, when it may appear plainly by that defence of 
 the knight, that oft hath been here mentioned, that the young noble 
 man, the Lord Eochford, by the common opinion of men of best under- 
 standing, in thos days, was counted and then openly spoken, con- 
 demned only upon some point of a statute of words, then in force. 
 And this and sondrie other reasons have made me think often, that 
 upon some clause of the same law, they grounded their colour also 
 against her, and that for other matters she had cleared herself wel 
 enough. It seemeth some greate ones, then had in their hands in 
 drawinge in that law to entangle, or bridle one another, and that some 
 of them were taken in the same net, as good men then thought worthely. 
 Surely my Lord Cromwel and that younge lorde were taken in those 
 entanglements, and the knight himself of whome is spoken, had hardly 
 scapt it, as may apeere by his defence, if he had not by the well de- 
 livering of the goodnes of his cause, broken through it. And this may 
 wel serve to admonish men, to be wel aware how far they admit law, 
 that shall touch life, upon construction of words, or at the lest, admit- 
 tinge them, how far they leave to lawyers to interpret of them, and 
 especially that thereby they give not excuse to juries to condemn the 
 innocent, when sway of times should thrust matters upon them. Thus 
 was she put upon her trial by men of great honor ; it had bin good 
 also if some of them had not bin to be suspected of too much power^ 
 and no less malice. The evidence was heard indeed ; but close enough, 
 as inclosed in strong walls ; yet to shew the truth cannot by any force 
 
THE SUCCESSION. 315 
 
 Boleyn. However this might be, Henry's passions carried him 
 still farther ; it was not enough that he should destroy his wife, 
 he must even illegitimate her offspring, lest Jane Seymour also 
 should bring into the world a daughter, to be supplanted by her 
 elder sister Elizabeth. To secure himself from this contingency, 
 he caused his marriage with Anne to be annulled, on the plea 
 of her pre-contract with the Earl of Northumberland, in spite of 
 that nobleman's protestations to the contrary. Whether Anne 
 acknowledged the contract is questionable 3* although she ap- 
 pears to have admitted that certain impediments had existed to 
 her marriage : but this extorted concession should rather be 
 attributed to a generous solicitude for her family, than to any 
 terrors inspired by the punishment with which she was menaced, 
 a weakness never imputed to her by contemporary writers. 
 Much speculation has been expended on Henry's motives for this 
 supplemental vengeance ; but was it not consistent with his 
 character, that he should secure the crown to the posterity of his 
 intended queen ? Is it not also likely that the Duke of Norfolk, 
 who constantly desired the reunion of England with the church 
 
 be altogether kept in Iiolde, some belike of those honorable personages 
 then, more perhaps for countenance of others' evil than for means by 
 their own authority to doo good, which also peradventure would not 
 have bin, without their own certain perils, did not yet forbear to de- 
 liver out voices, that caused every where to be muttered abroad, that 
 that spotless Queene in her defence had cleered herself with a most 
 wise and noble speech. 
 
 "Notwithstanding such a trial, such a judgment found her guiltie, 
 and gave sentence of death upon her at home, whom others abrodc, 
 living to feel her los, found guiltles." — Wiatt's Life of the renowned 
 Queen Ann Bolen. 
 
 * See Lingard's History of Henry the Eiglith. 
 
316 ANNE AFTER HER CONDEMNATION. 
 
 of KomG; should suggest an expedient wliich apparently removed 
 the great and only insuperable impediment to mutual reconci- 
 liation ? - -^ 
 
 After her condemnation, no dejection was visible in Anne's 
 deportment.* Much of her time was spent in devotion ; yet she 
 often conversed with her wonted grace and animation ; she quoted 
 her favourite passages of poetry, and more than once recited 
 lines from Wiatt's verses. The contemplation of her approach- 
 ing dissolution no longer inspired terror ; from the moment that 
 her days were numbered, she appeared to dismiss all sublunary 
 cares, to forget all personal sorrows ; even on the 17th of May, 
 when her brother and his unfortunate companions were execu- 
 ted, f she betrayed no violent emotion ; and Kingston was sur- 
 prised into the confession, that he had never before seen man or 
 woman, who, like tJiis lady^ rejoiced in the prospect of death. 
 On one occasion only was this happy composure suspended. By 
 a refinement of cruelty, neither her father nor her mother had 
 been permitted to approach her prison ; and it is even possible 
 she was far from wishing to bid them an eternal farewell ; but 
 she must have passionately desired to behold once more her 
 child, in whose smiling countenance she might yet read some 
 fair presage of futurity. Sensible that this rejected daughter 
 would be left dependent on the capricious kindness of a step- 
 mother, she recollected with grief and compunction the occa- 
 sional harshness with which she had herself treated the Princess 
 Mary ; and, hoping perhaps to avert from her own Elizabeth the 
 experience of those hardships she now believed she had inflicted 
 
 ^ See the five letters from Kingston to Cromwel, published in Strype. 
 f Lord Rochford and his fellow-sufferers were executed on that day, 
 on a scaffold without the Tower. 
 
CONVERSATION WITH KINGSTOJ^. 317 
 
 on her elder sister, she prostrated herself at Lady Kingston's 
 feet, compelled her to assume the chair of state, which still 
 remained in her chamber, and to listen to an unreserved confes- 
 sion of whatever trespasses her conscience acknowledged towards 
 that princess ; nor would she rise from that humble posture till 
 she had obtained from Lady Kingston a solemn promise, that 
 she would in like manner prostrate herself before Mary, and 
 never desist from supplication till she should have drawn from 
 her lips a declaration of forgiveness. In this last conflict, when 
 all the native sensibility of Anne Boleyn's character burst forth, 
 it is scarcely possible to conceive that she would have incurred 
 the guilt of perjury, by persisting in unauthorized asseverations 
 of innocence. After an affecting scene with Lady Kingston, 
 she continued to commune with her almoner till midnight. In 
 the morning she arose with a serene aspect; and, on seeing 
 Kingston, expressed regret that her execution was deferred till 
 noon, adding, ^'I had hoped by this time the pain would be 
 over." Kingston replied, " It would be no pain, — the heads- 
 man's stroke was so subtle." " True," returned she, ^^ and I 
 hear he has an excellent sword, and I have a little neck;" and, 
 putting her hand to her throat, she laughed heartily ; as if she 
 wished to show that she equally despised fear, and disdained 
 pity. But this occasional pleasantry did not suspend her serious 
 reflections ; and she entreated Kingston to be present when she 
 received the sacrament, that he might hereafter attest her pro- 
 testations of innocence. Nor did her resolution falter when the 
 fatal moment drew nigh, and when she for ever quitted that 
 chamber in which she had been alternately lodged as a brilliant 
 bride and a desolate prisoner.* By a prudent precaution, stran- 
 
 * Anne Boleyn is traditionally believed to have been confined in a 
 27 * 
 
318 ANNE'S EXECUTION. 
 
 .an m\ 
 
 gers had been dismissed from the Tower, and not more than 
 thirty persons were admitted to witness the catastrophe. By 
 one of those few spectators, we are assured, that the queen ap- 
 proached the platform* with perfect composure ; that her counte- 
 nance was cheerful, and retained all its wonted pre-eminence of 
 beauty. As she advanced to the spot, she had to detach herself 
 from her weeping attendants, whom she vainly attempted to 
 reconcile to her destiny. Among these, the most cherished was 
 Wiatt's sister, with whom Anne continued in earnest conversa- 
 tion till the parting moment, and then presented to her, with a 
 benignant smile, a small manuscript prayer-book, which the 
 afflicted friend was ever after accustomed to lodge in her bosom, 
 as a sacred relic of imperishable attachment, j* To each of her 
 other companions she made a similar bequest, beseeching them 
 not to grieve, because she was thus doomed to die, but rather to 
 pardon her for not having always treated them with becoming 
 mildness : then, ascending the scaffold, she addressed a few words 
 to the spectators, of which the following is said to have been 
 the purport : — " Friends, and good Christian people, I am here 
 in your presence to suffer death, whereto I acknowledge myself 
 
 room in Beauchamp's tower ; but it appears by Kingston's letters that 
 she was in the Lieutenant's lodgings, where she was attended by his 
 wife, and other individuals of her own sex. — See Bailey's History of 
 the Antiquities of the Tower. 
 
 * The platform was erected on the Tower Green, now designated the 
 Parade, and must have been nearly opposite to the Lieutenant's 
 lodgings. 
 
 f It is pleasing to revert to the faithful attachment long preserved 
 by the Wiatts for the memory of Anne Boleyn. The little biographical 
 tract so often referred to was compiled from traditional records by a 
 member of that family. 
 
ANNE'S EXECUTION. 319 
 
 adjudged by law, bow justly I will not say : I intend not an 
 accusation of any one. I beseecb tbe Almigbty to preserve bis 
 Majesty long to reign over you : a more gentle or mild prince 
 never swayed sceptre.* His bounty towards me batb been 
 special. If any one intend an inquisitive survey of my actions, 
 I entreat tbem to judge favourably of me, and not rasbly to 
 admit any censorious conceit ; and so I bid tbe world farewell, 
 beseecbing you to commend me in your prayers to God.'^ This 
 speech she uttered with a smiling countenance : then, uncovering 
 her neck, she knelt down, and fervently ejaculated, " To Jesus 
 Christ I commend my soul !" But though her head was meekly 
 submitted to the axe, the intrepidity with which she refused the 
 bandage,"!" delayed the accomplishment of her sentence; the 
 touching expression of her eyes disarmed, for the moment, her 
 executioner, and it was at length by stratagem that he seized the 
 moment for giving the stroke of death. At this crisis, an excla- 
 mation of anguish burst from the spectators, which was quickly 
 overpowered by the discharge of artillery announcing the event, 
 the last royal honour offered to the memory of Anne Boleyn. 
 What report was made of her execution to Henry is unknown : 
 but he was perhaps somewhat appeased by the gentle, submissive 
 demeanor displayed in this awful scene ', and, as from her know- 
 ledge of his character she had probably anticipated, soon restored 
 to her daughter a large portion of his paternal favour. 
 
 * An acknowledgment of the King's goodness appears to have been 
 the form generally used by culprits at the place of execution. The 
 Duke of Buckingham also spoke of the King's clemency. It is, however, 
 proper to remark, that many discrepancies appear in contemporary 
 chronicles, and that it is probable no faithful transcript of Anne's speech 
 was ever published. 
 
 f See note at tlie end of tlie volume. 
 
320 CONCLUSION. 
 
 It was not without reason that Anne committed the vindication 
 of her fame to time and truth. The citizens believed her de- 
 stroyed by the intrigues of the court. The nobility^ when they 
 beheld Jane Seymour, on the next Whit-Sunday, invested with 
 royal pageantry, could not but feel she had been sacrificed to the 
 King's passions. The Catholics discerned in this tragedy the 
 judgment of Heaven ; the Protestants detected the machinations 
 of the Pope and the Emperor. Perhaps the remote source of 
 her misfortunes might be traced to superstition operating on the 
 arbitrary spirit of Henry the Eighth, alarmed by the prediction 
 that the Tudors should not retain the sceptre of England, and 
 yet inflexibly bent on transmitting the crown to his immediate 
 posterity. To whatever cause might be ascribed the calamitous 
 fate of Anne Boleyn, that it was unmerited appears to have been 
 generally allowed by all but the bigots whom she had offended, or 
 the mercenary courtiers who basked in the sunshine of royal 
 favour. But these convictions were stifled by slavish devotion 
 to kingly power, till the subsequent exposure of Lady Eochford's 
 infamy extorted a tardy acknowledgment of the injustice to 
 which the most beneficent of queens had been sacrificed. As 
 the principles of the Reformation gained ground, the people be- 
 came more sensible of their obligations to the woman who had 
 ever warmly supported the cause of humanity and truth ; and, 
 although her remains were left to neglect, her charities could 
 not be consigned to oblivion : her munificence was her monument ; 
 her expanded sympathies, her open-handed bounty, her enlight- 
 ened beneficence, all conspired to fix on Henry's ferocious despot- 
 ism an indelible stain of infamy ; and the enthusiasm which accom- 
 panied Elizabeth to the throne was, in part at least, a tribute of 
 gratitude and tenderness to the ill-fated Anne Boleyn. 
 
SUPPLEMENTAL REMARKS 
 
 ON THE 
 
 BOLEYNS. 
 
 To the Boleyns, no motto could have been so appropriate as that 
 assumed by the House of Courtenoy, vbi lapsi/s — quid feci? Tlieir 
 rise had been slow and gradual ; their fall was rapid and irretrievable, 
 and after the death of Anne they never recovered dignity and im- 
 portance. 
 
 The Earl of Wiltshire survived his ill-fated children but two years, 
 and died, in 1538, at Hever, in whose parochial church his tomb is still 
 pointed out to the curious visiter. For the countess, contrary to her 
 daughter's predictions, was reserved a longer term of existence; and, 
 eventually, she lived to witness the death or disgrace of the majority 
 of those peers who sat in judgment on her daughter. The Earl of 
 Northumberland had soon followed the object of his juvenile affection 
 to the grave, overwhelmed with shame and sorrow for the execution of 
 his brother. Sir Thomas Percy, who had been involved in Aske's re- 
 bellion. Cromwel and Surrey perished on the scaffold ; and the Duke 
 of Norfolk was immured in the Tower, ere the remains of Anne's 
 mother were consigned to the tomb of her ancestors, in the chapel at 
 Lambeth, with this brief monumental inscription : 
 
 "Elizabeth Howard, some time Countess of Wiltsliire." 
 
 Mary Boleyn, her younger daughter, died in 1546, at Rochford Hall, 
 Essex, leaving two children: a daxighter, afterwards married to Sir 
 Francis Knollys, and a son, Henry Carey, created Baron of Hunsdon 
 by Queen Elizabeth, in whose brilliant circle he was distinguished as 
 the honest courtier. "The politicans," says Loyd, " followed Cecil ; 
 the courtiers, Leicester ; and the soldiers, Hunsdon." The same author 
 relates of him the following anecdote: — ""When his retinue, wliicb, in 
 those times, was large, would have drawn on a gentleman that had re- 
 
 (321) 
 
322 THE BOLEYNS. 
 
 turned tim a box on the ear, he forbade them in these soldier-like 
 ■words : ' You rogues ! cannot my neighbour and myself exchange a 
 box on the ear, but you must interfere ?' " It was expected that he 
 should be created Earl of Ormond or Wiltshire; and his approved 
 loyalty and valour might have challenged from Elizabeth a higher re- 
 compense than the restoration of those dignities. On his deathbed, 
 when the letters-patent for the earldom were offered to his acceptance, 
 he exclaimed, with his wonted frankness, " If I was unworthy of these 
 honours when living, I am unworthy of them now I am dying ! "* 
 
 The sons of this gallant nobleman enjoyed favour and consideration 
 with James the First, and some of his female descendants married into 
 noble families ; but the fortunes of their house declined, and the col- 
 lateral branches of the Boleyns, in Kent and Norfolk, sunk into quiet 
 obscurity. -j- 
 
 It was impossible that the name of Anne Boleyn, or the memory of 
 her misfortunes, should be consigned to oblivion. Traditions of her 
 sufferings and her virtues were still generally and willingly received, 
 and various metrical tales or ballads, founded on her tragical story, 
 sufficiently evince that she continued to be an object of popular sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 In the number of those poems which have been delicated to her 
 memory, the most remarkable is the following dirge, written in the 
 reign of Henry the Eighth, which has been attributed to her own pen, 
 but may, with more probability, be traced to Wiatt, or his accom- 
 plished sister, Margaret Lee : — 
 
 * The fourth lineal descendant of this gallant peer was ci'eated Viscount Roch- 
 foi'd, and Earl of Dover. In 1677, the earldom and viscounty being extinct, Sir 
 Robert £!arey became sixth Lord Hunsdon. In 1765, William. Ferdinand Carey, 
 the eighth Lord Hunsdon, dying without issue, the title again became extinct. 
 The following inscription to the memory of a female descendant of Lord Hunsdon 
 confirms the fact that Mary Boleyn was the younger sister of the unfortunate Anne 
 Boleyn : — 
 
 "Here lieth the body of the most virtuous and prudent Lady Elizabeth, Lady 
 Berkeley, widow, daughter, and sole heir of George Carey, Lord Hunsdon, son and 
 heir of Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, son and heir of William Carey and the Lady 
 Mary his wife; second daughter and co-heir of Thomas Bnllen, Earl of Ormond 
 and Wiltshire, father also of Queen Anne Bullen, M^ife to King Henry the Eighth, 
 mother of Queen Elizabeth, late Queen of England ; which Lady Bericeley, after her 
 pious pilgrimage of 59 years, surrendered her soul into the hands of her Redeemer, 
 the 23d day of April, 1635." — Collier's Peerage, edited by Sir Egerton Brydges. 
 
 f In Lamboard's Perambulations in Kent, published towards the middle of the 
 seventeenth century, no mention is made of the Boleyns, so long tlie lords of Hever 
 Castle. 
 
THE BOLEYNS. 323 
 
 Doleful Complaint'^ of Anne Boleyn. 
 
 Defiled is my name full sore, 
 
 Through cruel spite and false report, 
 That I m:iy say for evermore, 
 
 Farewell my joy — adieu comfort : 
 For wrongfully ye judge of me, 
 
 Unto my fame a mortal wound ; 
 Say what ye list, it ■will not be, 
 Ye seek for that cannot be found. 
 Oh, death ! rock me on sleep. 
 
 Bring me on quiet rest ; 
 Let pass my very guiltless ghost 
 Out of my careful breast. 
 Toll on the passing bell, 
 
 Ring out the doleful knell, 
 Let the sound of my death tell ; 
 For I must die, 
 There is no remedy. 
 For now I die. 
 
 My pains, who can express ? 
 
 Alas! they are so strong, 
 My dolour will not suffer strength 
 My life for to prolong. 
 Toll out the passing bell ; 
 Alone in prison strong, 
 
 I wail my destiny. 
 AVorth, worth this cruel hap, that I 
 Should taste this misery ! 
 
 Toll out the passing bell, 
 
 Ring out the doleful knell. 
 Let the sound of my death tell ; 
 
 For I must die, 
 
 There is no remedy. 
 And now I die. 
 
 Farewell, my pleasures past; 
 AVelcome, my present pain : 
 I feel my torments so increase, 
 That life cannot remain. 
 Cease now the passing bell; 
 Rung is my doleful knell ; 
 For the sound my death doth tell, 
 Death ! draw nigh. 
 
 In another poem composed in the middle of the seventeenth century, 
 is contained a traditional history of Anne Boleyn, -which represents 
 her as having sacrificed to her ambition an early and sincere attachment. 
 
 ' This poem, first published m Hawkins's ULstory of Music is confessedly of th© 
 age of Arme Boleyn. 
 
324 THE BOLEYNS. 
 
 They did her conduct to a tower of stone, 
 Whereas she should wail and lament her alone, 
 And condemned be, for help there was none ; 
 Lo, such "was her fortune ! 
 
 She said, I came in once at this portail 
 Like a queen to receive a crown imperial j 
 Now I conie to receive a crown immortal, 
 Lo, such is my fortune. 
 
 Tor mine offences I am full of w^oe : 
 
 Oh ! would I had hurt iriyself, and no mo, 
 I had been well an I done so ; 
 But such is my fortune. 
 
 All they that followed my line, 
 And to my favour did incline. 
 Well may they weep and band the time 
 That I found such fortune. 
 
 I had a lover stedfast and true ; 
 Alas ! that ever I changed for new. 
 I could not remember full sore anew 
 To have now this fortune. 
 
 But though I have my time mispent, •< 
 
 Yet give me not no misjudgraent, 
 If God be pleased, be you content, 
 Beholding my fortune.* 
 
 The lover alluded to was, probably, Henry Percy ; but, in reality, 
 Anne merited not the reproach of inconstancy ; having been compelled 
 to relinquish that engagement : and there is no reason to believe she 
 ever formed another. Among the historians and chroniclers of the day, 
 her character and conduct are uniformly praised or censured according 
 to the religious or political tenets of the respective writers. It is, 
 however, worthy of remark, that all contemporary English chroniclers 
 have either openly asserted or tacitly acknowledged her innocence; 
 and the value of their testimony is not a little enhanced by the re- 
 flection that the major part of them could have had no personal 
 motives to bias their partiality or warp their judgment. Cavendish 
 composed his MS. in the reign of Mary. Hall published under the 
 auspices of Edward the Sixth and the Seymours. Speed wrote under 
 another dynasty, to whom the vindication of Anne Boleyn's fame must 
 have been perfectly indifferent. Among the earlier historians, the 
 Bishop of St. Alban's and Lord Herbert are decidedly in her favour. 
 
 * The whole of this poem will be found in Dr. Nott's Life of Sir Thomas Wiatt. 
 
THE BOLEYNS. 325 
 
 The life of Queen Anne Boleyn, by Wiatt, though confessedly pane- 
 gyrical, derives considerable importance from the light which it throws 
 on several traditional passages of Fox, Heylin, and Sanders ; and from 
 the elucidation it occasionally aflfords of certain strange and other- 
 wise inexplicable calumnies. In his Statesmen and Favourites of 
 England, Loyd incidentally repels the accusations of certain Catholic 
 writers; and as he enjoyed peculiar opportunities of obtaining infor- 
 mation respecting the age of Henry the Eighth, his authority is un- 
 questionably entitled to respect.* 
 
 It is not surprising that the ostensible heroine of Protestantism 
 should have been grossly misrepresented by Spanish and Italian wri- 
 ters, the inveterate foes of heresy, and the bigoted defenders of the 
 orthodox faith. But it has been observed, that even the more tempe- 
 rate French historians have equally impeached the honour and nuptial 
 fidelity of Anne Boleyn ; and that it appears uncandid to fix on them, 
 generally and nationally, the stigma of deliberate and systematic in- 
 justice. In answer to this objection, we have only to remark, that the 
 French, in common with those Spanish and Italian writers in whose 
 prejudices they participated, have either substituted conjectures for 
 facts, or derived their information from suspicious authorities, in direct 
 opposition to more credible relations, and even to positive evidence. 
 By some, the guilt of Anne Boleyn is assumed, on the pretext, that 
 she was educated in the corrupt court of France, forgetting that this 
 corruption of manners became not general till after the period of her 
 childhood ; and that on such questions hypothetical deductions cannot 
 be admitted as historical trviths. By others, her infamy is triumphantly 
 proclaimed, on the evidence of Sanders, Marot, or Polydore Virgil, 
 whose malicious or venal fabrications have been repeatedly contro- 
 verted and refuted. It is a cui-ious fact, that the misfortunes of Mary 
 Stuart have perpetuated the wrongs of Anne Boleyn : the first cham- 
 pions of that ill-fated queen avenged her cause, by traducing the 
 mother of her triumphant rival, and, from similar motives, the parti- 
 sans of the exiled house of Stuart have continued to blacken her 
 memory as the original promoter of heresy and the Reformation. The 
 expulsion of the Stuarts might, with some plausibility, be traced to 
 the personal agency of Anne Boleyn. The schism of England, by 
 abolishing papal supremacy, extended the kingly power beyond its an- 
 
 ' Of Bishop Burnet, in common vi^ith some other Protestants, it may be affirmed, 
 that in his zeal to defend the honour of Henry the Eighth, he tacitly admits, that 
 Anne had given some colour to his jealousy. Strype appears consistent and sincere. 
 Fox is the advocate, Camdon the admirer, Collier the friend of Anne Boleyn. 
 
 28 
 
326 THE BOLEYNS. 
 
 cient limits ; and Henry the Eighth founded, on the doctrine of rights 
 sacred and divine, an enormous authority, which crushed with its 
 weight the succeeding dynasty, and thus led eventually to that happy 
 Revolution which forms the true era of English liberty. Amidst the 
 conflicts and distractions incident to religious feuds, it is a consolatory 
 reflection that the Catholics, however aggrieved by the Reformation, 
 soon participated in the benefits it was destined to confer on society. 
 By the collision of powerful minds, a stronger impulse was given to the 
 progress of knowledge and civilization. The emulation inspired by 
 rival sects extorted correction for many of the abuses engrafted on the 
 ancient system. In the monasteries, attention was directed to the edu- 
 cation of youth. Among the parochial clergy, the genuine virtues of 
 Christianity often took place of spurious piety ; and, but for the iu- 
 fluence of political faction and intrigue, the virulence of parties might 
 soon have yielded to a perception of mutual interests, and to the truly 
 evangelical precept of charity and concord. . 
 
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APPENDIX. 329 
 
 No. II. 
 Rochford Hall and New Hall. 
 
 RocHFORD, in Essex, is forty miles from London. Henry the Second 
 gave the manor of Rochford to a Norman family, who from hence as- 
 sumed the name of Rochford. Sir Guy de Rochford established a market 
 at Rochford in 1247. John de Rochford succeeded his uncle Guy ; he 
 was summoned by a quo warranto to appear before the King's Justices 
 Itinerant, to show by what right he claimed wreck of sea, tumbrell, 
 emendation or assize of beer and bread broken in Rochford : he boldly 
 answered, "As for wreck of sea, that one John de Burgh, senior, 
 granted to Guy his uncle, and that Henry had granted a charter for the 
 other privileges, which he produced." The claim was established, and 
 Rochford continued in his family till it became extinct. King Ed- 
 ward the Third granted it to William de Borham, Earl of Northampton. 
 
 Before the year 1512, King Henry the Eighth granted the reversion 
 of the manors of Borham and Little Waltham, in Essex, to Sir Tho- 
 mas Boleyn. 
 
 The manor of Smeton, also in Essex, devolved on Sir Thomas Boleyn, 
 in right of his mother Margaret, daughter and co-heiress of Thomas 
 Earl of Ormond, who possessed landed property in England equivalent 
 to 30,000^. per annum, exclusive of considerable demesnes in Ireland, 
 and 40,000/. in money, besides valuable jewels. From his mother, 
 Margaret, also. Sir Thomas Boleyn inherited the manor of Rodings, in 
 the same county, and the manor of Legh or Lee ; also the manor of 
 Hawskwell Hall. 
 
 In 1522, King Henry granted the manor and advowson of Tabbing 
 to Sir Thomas Boleyn. 
 
 In 1535, Henry granted the manor of Ralegh, in Essex, to Sir Tho- 
 mas Boleyn ; a sufficient proof that he had not then withdrawn his 
 favour from his daughter Anne. King Henry the Eighth purchased of 
 the Boleyns New Hall, in Essex. 
 
 New Hall belonged to the crown till the queen granted it to Thomas 
 RadcliflF Earl of Sussex, who bequeathed it to his brother, by whose 
 son and successor it was sold to George Villiers, the infamous Duke of 
 Buckingham, for 30,000/. ; it continued in that family till the civil 
 wars, when it was sequestrated by Parliament ; and afterwards pur- 
 chased by Oliver Cromwell, who, in 1643, exchanged it for Hampton 
 Court ; and New Hall being again offered to sale, became the property 
 of three opulent citizens, for the sum of 18,000/. On the Restoration, 
 it reverted to the family of Villiers, and it was then transferred to 
 
330 APPENDIX. 
 
 n 
 
 Monk, Duke of Albemarle, who lived in it with great splendour. New- 
 Hall continued in this family till 1734, when it was transferred, hj pur- 
 chase, to Eichard Hoare, Esq., who resold it to John Olons, Esq., by 
 whom the size of the edifice was consideralby diminished. According 
 to tradition, Henry VIII. breakfasted in Epping Forest, contiguous to 
 this palace, on the morning of Anne Boleyn's execution ; and, on 
 hearing the signal-gun, exclaimed, with joy, — "Away I unkennel the 
 hounds." — Moraji's History of Essex. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 The original French of the First Letter of Henry the Eighth 
 to Anne Boleyn. 
 [Extracted from the Harleian Miscellany.] 
 
 Ma Maitresse et Amie; — moy et mon coeur s'en remettent en vos 
 mains, vous suppliant les avoir pour recommander a votre bonne grace, 
 et que par absence votre affection ne leur soit diminue. Car pur aug- 
 menter leur peine, ce seroit grand pitie, car 1' absence leur fait assez, 
 et plus que jamais je n'eusse pense, en nous faisant rementevoir un 
 point d' astronomic, qui est tel, — tant plus loin que les Mores sont, tant 
 plus eloigne est le soleil, et nonobstant plus fervent : aussi fait-il de 
 notre amour ; par absence nous sommes eloignez, et neanmoins il garde 
 sa ferveur, au moins de notre coste. Ay ant en espoir la pareille du 
 votre, vous assurant que de ma part I'ennuye d'absence deja m'est trop 
 grande, et quand je pense a I'augmentation de celuy que part force 
 fault il que je soufre, il m'est presque intollerable, s'il n'estoit en 
 ferme espoir que j'aye de votre indissoluble affection vers moy; et pur 
 le vous rementevoir alcune fois cela, et voyant que personnellement je 
 ne puis etre en votre presence, chose la plus approchante a cela qui 
 m'est possible au present je vous envoye, c'est a dire, ma picture mis 
 en brasselettes, a toute la devise que vous deja scavez, me souhaitant 
 en leur place, quant il vous plairoit. C'est de la main de 
 
 Votre serviteur et amy, 
 
 H. R. 
 
APPENDIX. 331 
 
 No. IV. 
 
 Coronation of Anne Boleyn. 
 [Extract from Stow.] 
 
 On Saturday, the one-and-thirtieth day of May, the Queene was con- 
 veyed through London in order as followeth ; — To the intent that horses 
 should not slide on the pavement, nor that the people should be hurt 
 by the horses, the high streets where through the Queene should passe 
 were all gravelled, from the Tower unto Temple-barre, and rayled 
 on each side; within which rayles stood the crafts along in their 
 order from Gracechurch, where the merchants of the Stillyarde stoode, 
 until the Little Conduit in the Cheape, where the aldermen stoode; 
 and on the other side of the streete stood the constables of the city, 
 apparelled in velvet and silkes, with great staves in their handes, to 
 cause the people to give roome, and keep good order; and when the 
 streets were somewhat ordered, the maior in a gown of crimson velvet, 
 and a rich collar of esses, with two footmen clothed in white and red 
 damaske, rode to the Tower, to give his attendance on the Queene, on 
 whom the shei'iffs and their ofl&cers did awaite until they came to the 
 Tower-hill, where the}'', taking their leave, rode down the high streets, 
 commanding the constables to see roome, and good order kept, and so 
 went and stood by the aldermen in Cheape: and before the Queene, 
 with her traine, should come, Grace-street and Cornchill where 
 hanged with fine scarlet, crimson, and other grained clothes, and in 
 some places with rich arras ; and the most part of Cheape was hanged 
 with cloth of tissue, gold, velvet, and many rich hangings, which did 
 make a goodly shew ; and all the windows were replenished with ladies 
 and gentlemen, to beholde the Queene and her traine as they should 
 pass. 
 
 The first of the Queene's company that set forward, were twelve 
 Frenchmen belonging to the French ambassador, cloathed in coats of 
 blue velvet, with sleues of yellow and blue velvet, their horses trapped 
 with close trappers of blew sarsonet, powdred with white crosses : 
 after them marched Gentlemen, Esquires, Knights, two and two : after 
 them the Judges : after them the Knights of the Bathe, in violet gowns, 
 with hoods pursed with miniver, like doctors. After them Abbotts, 
 then Barons ; after them Bishops ; the Earls and Marquesses : then the 
 Lord Chancellor of England ; after him the Archbishop of Yorkc, and 
 the Ambassador of Venice ; after them the Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 and the Ambassador of France ; after rode two Esquires of Honour, 
 with robes of estate, rolled and worne baudrickewise about their necks, 
 
332 APPENDIX. 
 
 •with caps of estate, representing the Dukes of Normandy and Aqui- 
 taine ; after them rode the Lord William Howard, with the Marshall's 
 rod, deputy to his brother the Duke of Norfolk, Marshall of England, 
 who was ambassador then in France ; and on his righte hand rode 
 Charles Duke of Suffolke, for that day high constable of England, 
 bearing the warder of silver, appertaining to the ofi&ce of constable- 
 ship ; and all the Lords for the most part were clothed in crimson 
 velvet, and all the Queene's servants or ofiicers of armes in scarlet : 
 next before the Queene rode her Chancellor, bareheaded, the Serjeants 
 and officers at armes rode on both sides of the Lordes. Then came 
 the Queene in a white litter of white cloth of gold, not covered or 
 braided, whieh was led by two palfries clad in white damaske down to 
 the ground, head and all, led by her footmen ; she had on a kirtle of 
 white cloth of tissue, and a mantle of the same, furred with ermine, 
 her hair hanging downe, but on her head she had a coif, with a circlet 
 about it full of rich stones ; over her was borne k canopy of cloth of 
 gold, with four gilt staves, and four silver belles ; for bearing of the 
 which canopy were appointed sixteen Knights ; foure to bear it in one 
 space on foote, and foure another space, and foure another space, accor- 
 ding to their own appointment. Next after the Queene rode the Lord 
 Browgh, her chamberlaine ; next after him William Coffin, master of 
 her horses, leading a spare horse, with a side-saddle trapped down 
 with cloth of tissue : after him rode seven ladies, in crimson velvet, 
 turned up with cloth of gold and tissue, and their horses trapped with 
 gold : after them two chariots, covered with red cloth of gold ; in the 
 first chariot were two ladies, which were the old Dutchesse of Norfolk, 
 the old Marchionesse of Dorset ; in the second chariot were four ladies 
 all in crimson velvet ; after them rode seven ladies in the same suite, 
 their horses trapped and all ; after them came the fourth chariot, all 
 red, with eight ladies, also in crimson velvet : after whom followed 
 thirty gentlewomen, all in.. velvet and silke, in the livery of their ladies, 
 on whom they gave their attendance ; after them followed the guarde, 
 in coates of goldsmith^'s worke, in which order they rode forth till 
 they came to Fanchurch, where was made a pageant all of children, 
 apparelled like merchants, which welcomed her to the cittie, with two 
 proper propositions, both in French and in English : and from thence 
 she rode towards Gracechurch corner, where was a costly and marvel- 
 lous cunning pageant, made by the merchants of the Stillyard ; therein 
 was the Mount Parnassus, with the fountain of Helicon, which was of 
 white marble, and four streames without pipes did rise an ell high, and 
 meet together in a little cup above the fountain, which fountain ran 
 
APPENDIX. 333 
 
 abundantly witli rackt Reynish wyne till niglit. On the fountaine sate 
 Apollo, and at his feete Calliope ; and on every side of the mountaine 
 sate four muses, playing on several sweete instruments, and at their 
 feete epigrams and poesies were written in golden letters, in the which 
 every muse, according to her property, praysed the Queene. From 
 thence the Queene with her traine passed to Leadenhall, where was a 
 goodly pageant with a trippe and heavenly rose ; under the tippe was 
 a goodly roote of golde set on a little mountaine, environed with red 
 roses and white ; out of the tippe came down a faulcon, all white, and 
 set upon the roote, and incontinently came downe an angel with great 
 melodic, and set a close crowne of golde on the faulcon's head ; and in 
 the same pageant sate St. Ann, with all her issue beneath her ; and 
 under Mary Cleophe sate her four children, of which children one 
 made a goodly oration to the Queene, of the fruitfulness of St. Ann, 
 and of her generation, trusting that the like fruit would come of her. 
 Then she passed to the conduit in Cornehill, where were the three 
 Graces set on a throne, afore whom was the spring of grace continu- 
 ally running wine ; afore the fountaine sate a poet, declaring the pro- 
 perty of every grace ; that done, every ladie by herself, according to 
 her propertie, gave the Queen, a several gift of grace. 
 
 That done, she passed by the great conduit in Cheape, which was 
 newly painted with armes and devices, out of which conduit (by a 
 goodly fountaine set at the end) ranne continually wyne, both white 
 ^nd claret, all that afternoone ; and so she rode to the Standard, 
 which was richly painted with images of Kinges and Queenes, and 
 hanged with banners of armes, and in the top was marvellous sweete 
 harmonic both of songs and instruments. 
 
 Then she went forward by the crosse, which was newly gilt, till she 
 came where the aldermen stood, and then Master Baker, the recorder, 
 came to her with low reverence, making a proper and brief proposition, 
 and gave to her, in the name of the cittie, a thousand markes in golde, 
 in a golden purse, whiche she thankfully accepted with many good 
 wordes, and so rode to the little conduite, where was a rich pageant 
 of melody and songs, in which pageant were Pallas, Juno, and Ycuus, 
 and afore them stood Mercuries, which, in the name of the three god- 
 desses, gave unto her a ball of golde, divided in three, signifying three 
 gifts, which these three goddesses gave her ; that is to say, wisdome, 
 riches, and felicitie. 
 
 As she entered into Paul's Gate, there was a pretty pageant, in which 
 Bate three ladies, richly clauthed, and in a circle on their head was 
 written Rcgina Anna, pro.tjycrc, jvocede ct regno. The lady in the midst 
 
334 APPENDIX. 
 
 had a tablet, in which was written Veni, arnica, coronaheris ; and under 
 the tahlett sat an angell with a close crowne. And the lady sitting 
 on the right hand had a tablet of silver, in which was written, Domine 
 dirige gressus meos ; and the third lady had a tablet of golde, with letters 
 of azure, written Confido in Domino, and under their feet was written, 
 
 Regina Anna par is regis de sanguine nata 
 Et paries populis aurea soicla tuis. 
 
 And these ladies cast down wafers, on whiche the said two verses were 
 written. From thence she passed to the east end of Paul's church, 
 against the schoole, where stood a scaffold, and children well apparelled, 
 which said to her divers goodly verses of poets translated into English, 
 to the honor of the Kinge and her, which she highly commended, and 
 then she came to Ludgate, which gate was garnished with golde and 
 bisse ; and on the leads of St, Martin's church stood a queere of sing- 
 ing men and children, which sang new ballets made in praise of her 
 Grace. After that shee was passed Ludgate, sliee proceeded toward 
 Fleetstreet, where the conduit was newly painted, and all the armes 
 and angels refreshed, and the shalmes melodiously sounding. Upon the 
 conduit was a tower with foure turretts, and in every turrett stood one of 
 the cardinal vertues, with their tokens and properties, which had severall 
 speeches, promising the Queene never to leave her, but to be aiding and 
 comforting her : and in the midst of the tower closely was severall solemn 
 instruments, that it seemed to be a heavenly noyse, and was regarded 
 and praysed ; and beside this the conduit ran wine, claret and red, all 
 the afternoon : so she with her company, and the maior, rode forth to 
 the Temple-bar, which was newly painted and repayred, where stood 
 also divers singing men and children, till she came to Westminster-hall, 
 which was richly hanged with cloth of arras, and newly glazed ; and 
 in the middest of the hall she was taken out of her litter, and so let 
 up to the high dais under the cloth of estate, on whose left hand was a 
 cupboard of ten stages high, marvellous rich and beautiful to behold ; 
 and within a little season was brought to the Queene, with a solemn 
 service, in great standing spice-plates, a Toide of spice and subtleties, 
 with ipocrasse, and other wines, which shee sent down to her ladies, 
 and when the ladies had drunke, she gave hearty thanks to the lordes 
 and ladies, and to the maior, and others that had given attendance on 
 her, and so withdrew herselfe with a few ladies to Whitehall, and so 
 to her chamber, and there shifted her ; and after went in her barge 
 secretly to the Kinge to his manor of Westminster, where she rested 
 that night. 
 
APPENDIX. 335 
 
 On Whitsunday, the 1st of June, the maior, clad in crimson velvet, 
 ■with his collar, and all the aldermen and sheriffes in scarlet, and the 
 counsell of the city, took their barge at the Crane by seven of the 
 clocke, and came to Westminster, where they were welcomed and 
 brought into the hall by M. Treasurer, and other the Kinge's house, and 
 so gave their attendance till the Queene should come forth : between 
 eight and nine of the clock she came into the hall, and stood under the 
 cloth of estate, and then came in the Kinge's chappel, and the monks 
 of Westminster, all in rich copes, and many bishops and abbots in copes 
 and mitres, which went into the midst of the hall, and there stood a 
 season ; then was there a ray cloth spread for the Queen's standing in 
 the hall, through the palace and sanctuary, which rayled on both sides 
 to the high altar of Westminster ; after the ray cloth was cast, the 
 officers of armes appointed the order accustomed : first went Gentle- 
 men, the Esquires, then Knights, the Aldermen of London, in their clokes 
 of scarlet cast over their gownes of scarlet. After them the Judges, 
 in their mantles of scarlet and coifes : then followed the Knights of 
 the Bath, being no Lords, every man having a white lace on his left 
 sleeve : then followed the Barons and Viscounts in their parliament 
 robes of scarlet: after them came Earles, Marquesses, and Dukes, in 
 their robes of estate of crimson velvet, furred with ermine, poudred 
 according to their degrees ; after them came the Lord Chancellor in a 
 robe of scarlet, open before, bordered with lettice ; after him came 
 the Kinge's chappell, and the monkes solemnly singing with procession ; 
 then came Abbots and Bishops mitred, then Sergeants and Officers at 
 Armes ; then the Maior of London with his mace, and Garter, in his 
 coate of armes : then the Marques Dorset, in his robe of estate, which 
 bare the scepter of gold, and the Earl of Arundel, which bare the rod 
 of ivorie, with the dove both together ; then alone the Earl of Oxford, 
 high chamberlaine of England, which bare the crowne ; after him the 
 Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, for that day being high steward 
 of England, having a white rod in his hand ; and the Lord William 
 Howard, with the rod of the marshall-ship, and every Knight of the 
 Garter had his collar of the order. 
 
 Then proceeded forth the Queene, in a circotc and robe of purple 
 velvet, furred with ermine, in her hayre coife and circlet as shee had 
 on Saturday; and over her was borne the canopye, by foure of the 
 cinque portes all in crimson, with points of blew and red hanging over 
 their sleeves, and the Bishops of London and Winchester bare up the 
 lappets of the Queene's robe ; and her train, which was very long, was 
 borne by the old Duchesse of Norfolk ; after her followed Ladies, 
 
336 APPENDIX. 
 
 Ibeing Lords' wives, -which had circotes of scarlet, with narrow sleeves, 
 the breast all lettice, with barres of pouders, according to their 
 degrees, and over that they had mantles of scarlet, furred, and every 
 mantle had lettice abdut the necke, like a neckerchiefe, likewise pon- 
 dered, so that by their pouderings their degrees might be knowne. 
 Then followed Ladies, being Knights' wives, in gownes of scarlet, with 
 narrow sleeves without traines, only edged with lettice ; likewise had 
 all the Queene's gentlewomen. When she was thus brought to the high 
 place made in the middest of the church between the queere and the 
 high altar, she was set in a riche chaire, and after that she had rested 
 awhile, shee descended downe unto the high altar, and there prostrated 
 herself, while the Archbishop of Canterbury said certain collects over 
 her. Then she rose, and the Archbishop anointed her on the head and 
 on the breast : and then shee Was led up agayn to her chayre, where, 
 after divers orisons said, the Archbishop satt the crown of St. Edward 
 on her head, and then delivered her the scepter of golde in her right 
 hand, and the rod of ivory, with the dove, in the left hand, and then 
 all the queere sung Te Deum, &c. ; which done, the Bishop took off the 
 crowne of St. Edward, being heavie, and sett on her heade the crowne 
 made for her, and so went to masse ; and when the offering was began, 
 she descended downe and offered, being crowned, and so ascended up 
 againe, and sat in her chaire till Agnus was said, and then she went 
 down and kneeled before the high altar, where shee received of the 
 Archbishop the holy sacrament, and then went up to the place againe : 
 after that mass was done, she went to St. Edward's shrine and there 
 offered. After which offering was done, shee withdrew her into a little 
 place made for that purpose on one side of the queere. Now in the 
 meane season every Duchesse put on her bonnet a coronelle of golde 
 wrought with flowers, and every Marchionesse put on a demi-coronell 
 of golde wrought with flowers, and every Countesse a plain circle of 
 golde wrought with flowers, and every King at Armes, put on a crowne 
 of copper and gilt, all which were worne till night. 
 
 When the Queene had a little reposed her, the company, in the same 
 order that they set forth, and the Queene went crowned, and so did the 
 ladies aforesaid : her right hand was sustained by the Earle of Wilt- 
 shire, her father, and her left by the Lord Talbot, deputy for the Earle 
 of Shrewsbury, and Lord Furnivall, his father. And when shee was 
 out of the sanctuary within the pallace, the trumpets played marvey- 
 lous freshly, and so shee was brought to Westminster-hall, and so to 
 her withdrawing chamber, during which the Lordes, Judges, Maior, 
 and Aldermen, put off their robes, mantles, and cloaks, and took their 
 
APPENDIX. 337 
 
 hoods from their necks, and cast them about their shoulders, and the 
 Lordes sate only in their sircotes, and the Judges and Aldermen in 
 their gownes, and all the Lordes that served that day served in their 
 sircotes, and their hoods about their shoulders. Also divers officers 
 of the Kinge's house, being no Lordes, had circotes and hoods of scarlet 
 edged with miniver, as Treasurer, Controller, and Master of the Jewell- 
 house, but their circotes were not gilt. While the Queene was in her 
 chamber, every Lord and other that ought to do service at the coro- 
 nation, did prepare them according to their dutie, as the Duke of Suf- 
 folke, High Steward of England, which was richly apparelled, his 
 doublet and jacket set with orient pearle, his gowne crimson velvet 
 embroidered, his courses clapped with close trapper head, and all to 
 the ground crimson velvet, sett full of letters of golde of goldesmith's 
 worke, having a long white rod in his hand ; on his left hand rode the 
 Lord William, deputy for his brother, as Earle Marshall, with the 
 Marshall's rod, whose gown was crimson and velvet, and his horse 
 trapper purple velvet cutt on white sattine, embroidered with white 
 lions. The Earle of Oxford was High Chamberlaine ; the Earle of 
 Essex, carver ; the Earle of Sussex, sewer ; the Eai'le of Arundele, 
 cliiefe butler, on whom twelve citizens of London did give their atten- 
 dance at the cupboard ; the Earle of Darby, cup-bearer ; the Viscount 
 Lisle, painter ; the Lord Burgeiny, chief larder ; the Lord Bray, almoner 
 for him and his co-partners ; and the Maior of Oxford kept the buttery 
 bar ; and Thomas Wiat was chosen ewerer, for Sir Henry Wiat, his 
 father. 
 
 "When all these things were ready and ordered, the Queene under her 
 canopy came into the hall, and washed, and satte down in the middest 
 of her table, under her cloth of estate : on the right side of her chaire 
 stood the Countess of Oxford, widdow ; and on her left hand stood the 
 Countesse of Worcester, all the dinner season, which divers times in 
 the dinner time did hold a fine cloth before the Queen's face, when she 
 list to spit, or do otherwise at her pleasure ; and at the table's end 
 sate the Archbishoppe of Canterbury ; on the right hand of the Queene, 
 and in the middest between the Archbishoppe and the Countesse of 
 Oxford, stoode the Earle of Oxford, with a white staff, all dinner time. 
 
 When all these things were thus ordered, came in the Duke of Suffolke, 
 and the Lord William Howard, on horseback, and the Serjeants of 
 Amies before them ; and after them the sewer, and then the Knights 
 of the Bathe, bringing in the first course, which was eight-and-twenty 
 dishes, besides subtilties, and shippes made of waxo, marveylous 
 gorgeous to bcholde, all which time of service the trumpets standing 
 29 
 
338 APPENDIX. 
 
 in the "window, at the nether end of the hall, played. When she wag 
 served of two dishes, then the Archbishoppe's service was set downe, 
 whose server came equal with the third dish of the Queene's service 
 on his left hand. After that the Queene and the Archbishoppe were 
 served, the Barons of the Ports began at the table at the right hand 
 next the wall. Then at the table sate the Master and Clerks of Chaun- 
 cerie, and beneath them other doctors and gentlemen. The table next 
 the wall on the left hand by the cupboard, was begun by the Maior and 
 Aldermen, the Chamberlaine and Councell of the City of London ; and 
 beneath them sate substantial! merchants, and so downwarde other 
 worshipfull persons. At the table on the right hand, in the midst of 
 the hall, sate the Lord Chancellor, and other temporal Lordes, on the 
 right hand of the table, in their sircotes ; and on. the left side of the 
 same table sate Bishops and Abbots, in their parliament robes : beneath 
 them sate Judges, Serjeants, and the King's Councell ; beneath them 
 the Knights of the Bathe. At the table on the left hand, in the middle 
 part, sate Duchesses, Marquesses, Countesses, Baronesses, in their 
 robes, and other ladies in circotes, and gentlewomen in gownes ; all 
 which gentlewomen and ladies sate on the left side of the table along, 
 and none on the right side ; and when all were thus sett, they were in- 
 continent served so quickly, that it was marvellous ; for the servitors 
 gave so good attendance, that meat, nor drink, nor any thing else 
 needed to be called for, which in so great a multitude was marvell. 
 As touching the fare, there could be devised no more costly dishes nor 
 Bubtilties. The Maior of London, was served with four-and-twenty 
 dishes at two courses, and so were his brethren, and such as sate at 
 his table. 
 
 The Queen had at her second course four-and-twenty dishes, and 
 thirtie at the third course ; and betweene the last courses, the kings 
 of armes, crowned, and other officers of armes, cried largesse in three 
 parts of the hall, and after stood in their place, which was in the 
 bekens of the Kinge's Bench ; and on the right hand out of the Cloyster 
 of St. Stephen's Chappel was made a little closet, in which the Kinge, 
 with divers ambassadors, stoode to beholde the service. The Duke of 
 SuflFolke and the Lord William, rode oftentimes about the hall, cheer- 
 ing the Lordes, Ladies, and Maior, and his brethren. After they in 
 the nail had dined, they had wafers and ipocrase, and then they washed, 
 and were commanded to stand still in their places before the tables, or 
 on the formes, till the Queene had washed. When shee had taken 
 wafers and ipocrase, the table was taken up, and the Earle of Rutland 
 brought up the surnape, and laid it on the boord's end, which imme- 
 
APPENDIX. 339 
 
 cliatel}^ Wcas drawn and cast by Maister Read, Marshall of the Ilall, 
 and the Queene washed, and after the Archbishop ; and after the sur- 
 nape was withdrawn, then shee rose, and stood in the middest of the 
 hall place, to whom the Earle of Sussex in goodly spice plate, brought 
 a void of spices and confections. After him the Maior of London 
 brought a standing cup of golde, set in a cup of assay of golde ; after 
 that shee had drunke, she gave the Maior the cup, with the cup of 
 assay, because there was no cover, according to the claim of the city, 
 thanking him and all his brethren of their paine. Then slice, under 
 her canopie, departed to her chamber, and at the entry of her cham- 
 ber, she gave the canopie with bells and all, to the Barons of the ports, 
 according to their claime, with great thankes ; then the Maior of 
 London, bearing his cup in his hand, with his brethren, went through 
 the hall to their barge, and so did all other noblemen, and gentlemen, 
 for it was sixe of the clocke. 
 
 In Leland's Collectanea is preserved a circumstantial account of the 
 coronation of Elizabeth, Mother of Henry the Eighth, which, though 
 closely corresponding with that of Anne Boleyn, is marked by some 
 superstitious formalities, evidently adapted to the age of Henry the 
 Seventh. 
 
 In the procession to Westminster, she was arrayed in a kirtle of 
 white cloth of gold of damask ; a mantle of the same cloth, furred 
 with ermine, and laced on her breast ; her fair yellow hair flowed down 
 her back, with a caul of pipes over it ; she had a circlet of gold richly 
 garnished with precious stones on her head ; her train was borne by 
 the Lady Cecil, her sister. She proceeded, in royal state, to her litter, 
 the timber work of which was covered with cloth of gold of damask, 
 and large pillows of down, covered with like cloth of gold, laid about 
 her royal person to sustain the same. In this manner she was con- 
 veyed through the streets, which were decorated with tapestry. On 
 either side were ranged the diJBTerent crafts of London, in their liveries : 
 also, there was a marvellous sight of people. Nor were pageants want- 
 ing ; and little children, dressed as angels, or virgins, saluted the 
 Queen with songs as she passed. Immediately before the litter rode 
 the Duke of Bedford, and the Earl of Oxinford, with three noblemen. 
 The Lord Mayor, and a train of knights, followed. The marshal's offi- 
 cers were ready to interpose with their tipstaves, to keep order among 
 the people. Over the Queen's head a canopy of gold was borne by 
 four knights, who were alternately relieved, twelve being appointed to 
 this honourable office. Behind the litter was a lady's palfrey, led by 
 
340 APPENDIX. 
 
 the Queen's master of the liorse, and after Mm followed several hench- 
 men. After these came the Princess Cecil, and four ladies, in chairs, 
 followed by several baronesses, on horseback. A long train of gentle- 
 women closed the procession. On the following day, Elizabeth, arrayed 
 in purple velvet, was conducted in solemn state from Westminster Hall 
 to the Abbey, her sister, the Lady Cecil, again bearing her train : Es- 
 quires and knights came first ; next the new knights of the bath ; after 
 them barons. The heralds on one side ; and, to preserve order, the 
 Serjeants at arms on the other; then followed abbots, bishops, the 
 Archbishop of York ; the King's garter at arms ; the Lord Mayor ; 
 next came the Earl of Arundel, bearing the ivory rod ; the Duke of 
 Suffolk, with the sceptre ; the Earl of Oxinford, with his chamberlain's 
 staff ; the Duke of Bedford bore the crown of gold. The Queen and 
 her ladies followed. '■'■But the morepitie ther was so hoge a people inordy- 
 nately presing to cut the ray cloth, that the Queen's grace gede upon ; so 
 that, in the presence, certeyne persons were slayne, and the order of 
 the ladies following the Queene was broken." 
 
 The actual ceremony of the coronation appears to have been ex- 
 tremely tedious. The Queen remained prostrate before the altar whilst 
 the Archbishop pronounced over her the orison, " Deus qui solus 
 habes;" that done, she arose, and knelt down again; when, the coif 
 being removed from her head, and the handkerchief from her neck, 
 the Archbishop anointed her head and breast ; he next blest her ring, 
 and sprinkled on it holy water; then, having blest the crown, he set 
 it on her head, on which was put a coif for the preservation of the 
 holy unction, afterwards to be delivered to the Archbishop ; then he 
 put into the Queen's right hand a sceptre, and a rod in her left hand, 
 saying this orison, " Omnipotens Domine." The Queen was led thrice 
 from the altar to her royal seat ; when the Agnus Dei being sung, she 
 again descended and came to the altar, where she received the sacra- 
 ment, after which the mass was concluded. The Queen was then con- 
 ducted in solemn state to the shrine of St. Edward, on whose altar her 
 crown was deposited, by the Archbishop, and thus ended the ceremony ; 
 of which the King and his mother had a full view from a platform on 
 the opposite side, prepared for their reception. During dinner, the 
 Duke of Bedford, the Earl of Derby, and the Earl of Nottingham, rode 
 up and down the hall, each mounted on a courser, superbly trapped 
 and decorated. On the Queen's entrance, Catherine Gray and Mistress 
 Ditton took their station at her feet, whilst the Countess of Oxinforde 
 and the Countess of Rivers knelt, one on each side of her chair, and 
 at certain times held a kerchief before her grace. At the end of the 
 
APPENDIX. 341 
 
 hall, on high, before the •windo-w, ther was made a stage for the trum- 
 pets and minstrels, who, when the first course was set forward, began 
 to blow. The Lord Fitzwater as server, in his surcot, with taborde 
 sleeves, a hood about his necke, and his towel above all, served the 
 messes as ensueth, all borne by knights. 
 
 Furst, a Warner before the Course. 
 
 Sheldes of brawn in armor. 
 
 Frumenty with venison. 
 
 Bruet riche. 
 
 Hart powdered graunt cliars. 
 
 Fesante intramde royalc. 
 
 Swan with chawdron. 
 
 Capons of high goe. 
 
 Lamperey in galantine. 
 
 Crane with cretney. 
 
 Pik in latymer sauce. 
 
 Heronusar with his soque. 
 Carpe in foile. 
 Kid reversed. 
 Perche in jeloy depte. 
 Conies of high Greece. 
 Moten roiali ricliely garnished. 
 Valance baked. 
 Custarde royale. 
 Tarte Poleyn. 
 Leyse damaske. 
 Fruit synoper. 
 Fruit formage, 
 
 A soteltie with writing of balads. wliich as yet I have not. 
 
 The Second Course. 
 A Warner before the course, 
 loly Ipocras. 
 Mamane with lozenges of gold. Peacocks. Bitterns. Pheasants. Cocks. Par- 
 tridges. Sturgeon. Plovers. Rabett. Sowker. Red Shanks. Snipes. Quails. 
 Larks ingrailed. Gwerde eudence. Venison in paste royal. (Quince backed. 
 Marchepanes royal, a cold baked meat flourished. Lithe Ciprus. Castles of jelly 
 in Temple wise made. A soteltie. 
 
 After the dinner, largess was thrice proclaimed by Garter King of 
 Arms, de la trh haull, tr^s puissant, tris excellent princesse, la iris Chri- 
 ticnne reyne de France, de JEngleterre, et dame d'lrlonde. And when the 
 Queen was up and had washed, and grace said, she came into the voyde. 
 Then blew the trumpets, and the Mayor of London, Sir "William Ilorne, 
 served the Queene of Ipocras, and after of the spices ; and tooke his 
 cup of gold covered for his fee; and then the Queene departed with 
 God's blessing, and to the rejoiceing of mony a true Englishman's heart. 
 29* 
 
342 APPENDIX. 
 
 No. V. 
 Anne Boleyn^s Dower. 
 
 By a curious folio preserved in tlie British Museum, it appears tliat 
 Henry the Eighth made, first to Anne Boleyn, in the twenty-fourth year 
 of his reign, the grant of certain manors in Wales and Somerset, Hert- 
 ford and Essex, for the maintenance of her dignity, as Marchioness of 
 Pembroke. Secondly, in the same year, a grant of the manor, palace, 
 and park of Hanworth. Thirdly, in the twenty-fifth of*his reign, a 
 grant of deed of dower and jointure as Queen of England. Fourthly, 
 a grant of certain lands under the seal of the Duchy of Lancaster. 
 To this is annexed a grant of certain royal privileges and immunities; 
 also an abstract of the act of Parliament, confirming the said grants, 
 dated Westminster 3d of April, 25th of the reign of Henry the Eighth.^ 
 
 In the Statutes of the realm, chapter 25, Henry VIII,, will be found 
 an elaborate detail of all the manors, parks, castles, &c., included in 
 the marriage-jointure of Anne Boleyn, who is styled Queen of England 
 and France, and Lady of Ireland. Her revenue cannot be ascertained 
 from this document, but it appears to have been fully equal to what 
 was enjoyed by Catherine of Arragon. 
 
 No. VI. 
 Anne Boleyn being on the scafi"old, would not consent to have her 
 eyes covered with a bandage, saying that she had no fear of death. 
 All that the divine who assisted at her execution could obtain from her, 
 was, that she would shut her eyes ; but, as she was opening them at 
 every moment, the executioner could not bear their tender and mild 
 glances : fearful of missing his aim, he was obliged to invent an ex- 
 pedient to behead the Queen. He drew off his shoes, and approached 
 her silently; while he was at her left hand, another person advanced 
 at her right, who made a great noise in walking, so that this circum- 
 stance drawing the attention of Anne, she turned her face from the 
 executioner, who was enabled, by this artifice, to strike the fatal blow, 
 without being disarmed by that spirit of affecting resignation which 
 shone in the eyes of the lovely Anne Boleyn. 
 
 The common executioner, 
 Whose heart th' accustomed sight of death makes Jiard, 
 Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck 
 But first begs pardon."— Shakspeare. 
 
 B' Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, vol. ii. p. 297. 
 
 * See-^N^^SOa-af the Harleian Miscellany. (2<{_._a| Ujife, V ^t % 
 
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 In 2 vols., 700 pages, muslin extra gilt. 
 
 "It possesses great intrinsic interest. It 
 is a chequered exhibition of the undress life 
 of Napoleon. All the glitter antl pomp and 
 dust of glory which bewilder the mind is 
 laid; and we behold not the hero, the em- 
 
 (>eror, the guide and moulder of destiny, 
 mt a poor sickly child and creature of cir- 
 cumstance—affrighted by shadows and tor- 
 tured by straws." — Philada. City Item. 
 
 " This is one of the most interesting works 
 of the day, containing a muhiplieiiy of in- 
 cidents in the life of Josephine and her re- 
 nowned husband, which have never before 
 been in print." — JV. O. T'hnes, 
 
 "This is a work of high and commanding 
 interest, and derives great aililiiional value 
 from the fact asserted by the authoress, that 
 the greater portion of it was written by the 
 empress herself. It has a vast amount of 
 information on the subject of Napoleon's 
 career, with copies of original documenls 
 not to be found elsewhere, and wiih copious 
 notes at the end of the work.^' — N. O Com. 
 Bulletin 
 
 'Alfords the reader a clearer insight into 
 tlie private character of Napoleon than he 
 can obtain through any oilier source." — 
 JJallimore American. 
 
 "They are agreeably and well written; 
 and it would be strange if it were not so, 
 enjoying as Josephine did, familiar ('(jIIo- 
 quiai intercourse with ihe most distinguish- 
 ed men and minds of llie age. The work 
 does not, apparently, t^ulfer by iranslaiioii." 
 — Baltimore Patriot. 
 
 " It IS the history— in part the secret his- 
 tory, written by her own hand with rare 
 elegance and force, and at times with sur- 
 passing pathos— of the remarkable woman 
 who. by the greainessof her spirilwaa wor- 
 thy to be Ihe wil'e ot the soaring .NanoUon. 
 It combines all the value of authentic his- 
 tory with the al)sorbing interest of an auto- 
 biography or exciting romance." — Item, 
 
 By FREDERICK H. HEDGE. 
 
 ILLUSTRATliD WITH EIGHT PORTRAITS ANl) AN 
 
 ENGRAVED TITLE-PAGE, FROM A DESIGN 
 
 BY LEUTZE. 
 
 Complete in One Volume Octavo 
 
 Contents* 
 
 I/Uther, Bochme, Saiicta Clara, Moser, 
 Kant, licssing, Mendelssohn, Hamann,Wie- 
 land, Musiius, Claudius, Lavater, Jacobi, 
 Menler, Gnelhe, Schiller, Fichte, Richier, 
 A W. Schlegel, ^clileiermacher, Hegel, 
 /schokke, F. fSehlegel, llardenberg, Tieck, 
 Schellmg, Holfmann, Chamisso. 
 
 ''The autlior of this work — for it is well 
 entitled to the name of an original produc- 
 tion, though mainly consisting of transla- 
 tions—Frederick li. Hedge ol IJangor, is 
 qualified, as few men are in this country, 
 or wherever the English language is writ- 
 ten, for the successful accomplishment of 
 Ihe great literary enterprise to which he has 
 devoted his leisure for several years. 
 
 "Mr. Hedge has displayed great wisdom 
 in the selection of the pieces to be trans« 
 lated; he has given the best specimens of 
 the best authors, so far as was possible in 
 his limited space. 
 
 " We ve;>ture to say that there cannot be 
 crowded into the same compass u more 
 faithful represi Illation of the (iermaa mind, 
 or a richer exhilulioii of the profound 
 thought, subtle speculaiion. massive learn- 
 ing aiul genial temper, thai characterize the 
 mii'st fiiiineiit literary nun of that nation." 
 — Harbinger. 
 
 "What excellent matter we here have. 
 The elioice.-.t gems of »xiibeiant fancy, the 
 most |ioli.-;hi'd prodiu'i.oiis of scholarship, 
 the richest (low of tin' hi-art. the deepest 
 lessons of vvi.«dom. all translated .xo well by 
 Mr Hedge and his inends. that they seem 
 to have been first written by masters of the 
 Ihiglish tongue."— r/i«; City Item. 
 
 '• We have read the liook with rare plea- 
 sure, and have derived not li-ss informuiion 
 than enjoy mi- lit.'" — Knirktrbocker. 
 
 " The seleetion."! are jiidieious and tasteful, 
 ihe biographies well written and compre 
 hensive." — Inqtiinr. 
 
 1 
 
NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. HAET. 
 
 THE MARSHALS OF TEE EMPIRE. 
 
 Complete in 2 vols. 12mo., 
 
 With 16 Steei Portraits in Military Costume. 
 
 Coiiteiitse 
 
 Napoleon, Jourdan. Serrurier, Lannes, 
 Bnme, Perignon, Oudinot, Soult, Davoust, 
 Massena, Murat, Mortier, Nay, Poniatow- 
 ski, Grouchy, Bessieres. Berlhier, Souchet, 
 St. Cyr, Victor, Moncey, Marmont, Mac- 
 donald, Bernadolte, Augereau, Lefebvre, 
 Kellermann. 
 
 The biographies are twenty-seven in 
 number — Napoleon and his twenty-six 
 marshals, being all those created by him — 
 and therefore these pages have a complete- 
 ness about them which no other work of a 
 similar design possesses 
 
 The style is clear and comprehensive, 
 and the book may be relied upon for histo- 
 rical accuracy, as the materials have been 
 drawn from sources the most authentic. 
 The Conversations of Napoleon, with Mon- 
 tholon, Gourgaud, Las Cases and Dr. O'- 
 Meara have all been consulted as the true 
 basis upon which the lives of Napoleon 
 and his commanders under him should be 
 founded. 
 
 "The article on Napoleon, which occu- 
 pies the greater part of the first volume, is 
 written in a clear and forcible style and 
 displays marked ability in the author. Par- 
 ticular attention has been paid to the early 
 portion of Napoleon's life, which other wri- 
 ters have hurriedly dispatched as though 
 they were impatient to arrive at the opening 
 glories of his great career." — N. Y. Mirror. 
 
 "The lives of the Marshals and their 
 Chief, the military paladins of the gorgeous 
 modern romance of the ' Empire,' are given 
 with historic accuracy and without exag- 
 geration of fact, style or language."— £aZ- 
 tiniore Patriot. 
 
 " We have long been convinced that the 
 character of Napoleon would never receive 
 'even handed justice' until some impartial 
 and intelligent American should undertake 
 the task of weighing his merits and deme- 
 rits. In the present volume this has been 
 done with great judgment. We do not 
 know the author of the paper on Napoleon, 
 but whoever he may be. allow us to say to 
 him that he has executed his duty better than 
 any predecessor.''''— Evening Bulletin. 
 
 '• The style of this work is worthy of com- 
 mendation — plain, pleasing and narrative, 
 the proper style of history and biography 
 in which the reader does not seek fancy 
 sketches, and dashing vivid pictures, but 
 what the work professes 1o contain, biogra- 
 phies. We commend this as a valuable 
 library book worthy of preservation as a 
 work of reference, after having been read." 
 — Bait American. 
 
 "This is the clearest, most concise, and 
 
 most interesting life of Napoleon and his 
 
 marshals which has yet been given to the 
 
 public. Tne arrangement is judicious and 
 
 2 
 
 the charm of the narrative continues un» 
 broken to the end." — City Item 
 
 "The publishers have spared no pains or 
 expense in its production, and the best talent 
 in ilie country has been engaged on its va- 
 rious histories. The style is plain and gra- 
 phic, and the reader feels that he is perusing 
 true history rather than the ramblings of a 
 romantic mind."— iacfi/'s Book. 
 
 "The result of these joint labors is a series 
 of narratives, in which the events succeed 
 each other so rapidly, and are of so marvel- 
 ous a cast, as to require only the method in 
 arrangement and the good taste in descrip- 
 tion which they have received from the 
 hands of their authors. The inflated and 
 the Ossianic have been happily avoided." — 
 Colonization Pier aid. 
 
 " Their historical accuracy is unimpeach- 
 able, and many of them (the biograjiliies) 
 are stamped with originality of thought and 
 opinion. The engravings are numerous and 
 very tine. The book is well printed on fine 
 white paper, and substantially bound. It 
 deserves 'a place in all family and school 
 libraries." — Bulletin. 
 
 "It abounds in graphic narratives of bat- 
 tles, anecdotes of the world-famed actors, 
 and valuable historical information." — Rich' 
 mond Inquirer. 
 
 " We receive, therefore, with real plea- 
 sure, this new^ publication, having assurance 
 that great pains have been taken in the pre- 
 paration of each individual biography, and 
 especially in collating the various authori- 
 ties upon the early history of the Emperor. 
 There appears to be nowhere any attempt 
 to blind the reader by dazzling epithets, and 
 the accuracy of construction throughout is 
 highly creditable to the editor." — Commer- 
 cial Advertiser N. Y. 
 
 " The style is simplicity itself, wholly free 
 from the amusing pomposity and absurd in- 
 flation that distinguish some of the works 
 which have gone before it." 
 
 BRYANT'S POEMS. 
 
 ILIUSTRATEB BY TWENTY SUPERB ENGRAVINGS, 
 
 From Designs by E. LEUTZB, 
 
 Expressly for this Volume, 
 
 ENGRAVED BY AMERICAN ARTISTS, 
 
 And printed on fine Vellum paper. 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME OCTAVO. 
 
 Sixtli Edition. (Just ready.) 
 
 I'rice $5.00 ioicnd in scarlet, gilt edges; or 
 
 beautifully bound by S. Moore in calf 
 
 or Turkey morocco, $7.00. 
 
 "This is really a splendid book, and one of 
 the most magnificent of Carey & Hart's collec- 
 tion of "The Illustrated Poets.'"— fT". ^S*. Gaz. 
 
 " The ' getting up' of this edition is credit* 
 able in the highest degree to the publishers 
 and the fine arts of the country. The paper 
 binding, and the engravings are all of the 
 very best kind." — Inquirer and Courier, 
 
NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. HART. 
 PETER SCHLEMIHL. 
 
 PETER SCIlLEMmL IN AMEllICA. 
 
 Complete in One Volume, \2mo. 
 
 " The object of this work is to ' calcli the > 
 manners living as they rise' in connection^ 
 with the anlafronisms of the present day — i 
 ^novelties tvhick disturb the pence'' — as Swe- i 
 denborgianisni, Transcendenialisin, Fou-) 
 rierism, and other isjns. The autlior has ^ 
 made these pages the vehicle of valuable j 
 information oa all the topics of which he ^ 
 has treated." i 
 
 " Peter, as our readers may recollect, sold ? 
 his shadow to a Gentleman in Black, and • 
 upon this fable the American adventures ;! 
 are founded. The author, whoever he may^ 
 be, has read much, and betn at least 'a;! 
 looker on in Venice,' if not a participator < 
 of the follies of fashionable life. < 
 
 "The theological and political criticism < 
 is inwoven vvitli a tale of fashionable life,.^ 
 and the reader becomes not a little interest- ^ 
 ed in the heroine, Mrs. Smith, who certainly > 
 must have been a remarkable woman. It^ 
 is neatly published, and will be extensively:^ 
 read." — Bulletin. i 
 
 "We shall be greatly mistaken if thiss 
 book does not kick up a whole cloud of;! 
 dust."- The City Item. < 
 
 "The work is cliaracteri/ed by much^ 
 learning and sincere feeling." — N.Y.Jilirror.j 
 
 "One of the most entertaining works we> 
 have read for many a day, as well as one; 
 of the best written. Who the author is we ] 
 know not; but we do know that the book^ 
 will meet with a rapid sale wherever ans 
 inkling of its character leaks out. For^ 
 watering places, or anywhere, during the ^ 
 hot weather, it is worth its weight in — gold <; 
 we almost said. It is I'ull of everything of ^ 
 the best, and you can scarcely open it at^ 
 random without striking upon some sketch ^ 
 or dialogue to enchain the attention." — Ger- 'i 
 tnantowti Telegraph. ^ 
 
 "His stock of knowledge is large ; and as ] 
 his conscience is rectified by Christian >' 
 principle, and his heart beats in unison 
 with the right and the true, he uses his trea- 
 sures of information only for good purposes. 
 
 "The book belong? to that class of novels 
 which make an interesting story the me- 
 dium for the communication of imporlant 
 •juth. In many respects it is a peculiar 
 work, dilTenng from all others in both de- 
 sign and execution, and leaving the impres- 
 sion that it is the product of a mind of no 
 ordinary power. # * # * 
 
 "Those who love to think nud/eel. as the 
 result of truthful thought, will read the book 
 with interest and profii."^/vf/fec/ort^ Watch- 
 man. 
 
 "A rare book. Who in the world wrote 
 it? Mere are nearly five hundred pages 
 with gems on every one of them. The 
 satire is equal to that of Don (Quixote or 
 Asinodeus The hits at society in tliis 
 country are admirable and well pointed. 
 The humbugs of the day are skillfully 
 
 shovvn up, and the morals of the book ara 
 unexcei)tional)le. The author cannot long 
 escape detection, in spite of his shadowry 
 concealment, and if a new practitioner ha 
 will jump to the head of his profession at 
 once." — Godey''s Lady''s Book. 
 
 " We are prepared to say, that Peter 
 Schlemihl is an exceedingly clear and 
 well-written work — that the author has 
 displayed a considerable amount of book 
 lore in its composition — that the story is in- 
 teresting and instructive — that we have 
 been entertained and edified by its perusal, 
 and that it possesses merits of more than 
 ordinary character. We cordially recom- 
 mend it to the reading community, since we 
 are sure that they will be benefitted as well 
 as entertained by the revelations contained 
 in the pages of Peter. — T'he National Era. 
 
 "A strangely conceived and ably executed 
 work."— iV. O Com. Times. 
 
 "The work forms a consecutive tale, all 
 along which runs a vein of severe satire, 
 and which at every step is illustrated by a 
 vast deal of valuable information, and the 
 inculcation of sound principles of morality 
 and religion. It is a work which is adapted 
 to do good, suited to all intelligent general 
 readers, and a pleasant companion for the 
 scholar's leisure hours." — iV. Y. Recorder. 
 
 "This is a very remarkable production, 
 and unless we are greatly deceived, it is 
 from a new hand at the literary forge. We 
 have read every page of this thick volume, 
 and have been strongly reminded of South- 
 ey's great book. The Doctor. The author of 
 this work must be a man of close observa- 
 tion, much research, and if we are accurate 
 in our estimate, he is a layman. * * * * 
 This same book will make a sensation in 
 many quarters, and will unquestionably 
 create a name and reputation for its author, 
 who forthwith takes his place among the 
 best and keenest writers of our country. * * 
 We commend it to the gravest and gayest of 
 our readers, and assure them that our own 
 copy will not go off our table until another 
 winter has passed aw^ay."— iV. Y. Alliance 
 and Visitor. 
 
 "The volume cannot fail to be read exten- 
 sively and do good The popular ' isms'' of 
 the day, their folly and injurious tendency, 
 are descanted upon with mingled gravity 
 and humor, and considerable talent and 
 truthful feiding are shown in the discus- 
 sion. Whether (he book have an immediate 
 run or not, the soundness of its views, deli- 
 vered with some quaintness of siyle, will 
 insure it permanent popularity." — N. York 
 Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 "Light, sportive, graceful raillery, ex- 
 pressed with terse and delicate ease. * * * 
 
 " It is .1 novel of fun, with grave notes by 
 wav of ballast." — Christian Examiner. 
 
 3 
 
PUBLISHED BY A. HART. 
 
 Now ready, in 2 vols, post 8vo., price $2 00, with 16 Portraits, 
 
 WASHIMGTOKT AMD THE GENERALS 0^ 
 THE EEVOLUTIOri. 
 
 BY VARIOUS EMINENT AUTHORS. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 Biog'raphical Sketches of all the Jflajor and Srig-adier Generals 
 
 who acted under commissions from Cong-ress during- 
 
 the Revolutionary War, 
 
 We hail these beautiful volumes with 
 undisgaised delight. They supply, in a dig- 
 nified and comprehensive form, valuable 
 information, which w^ill be sought w^ith avi- 
 dity, not only by the American public, but 
 by the world at large. The want of a work 
 of positive authority on this suljject has long 
 been felt and deplored. The enterprise and 
 good taste of Messrs. Carey and Hart have 
 given us two handsome and reliable vo- 
 lumes, betraying industry and talent, and 
 replete with facts of the deepest interest. 
 There is no idle romancing — no school-boy 
 attempts at rhetorical display; on the con- 
 trary, the work is written in a clear, un- 
 affected, business-like, yet beautiful man- 
 ner. The authors had the good sense to 
 think that the stirring events of "the times 
 that tried men's souls," needed no embellish- 
 ment. It is a complete, impartial, and well 
 ^vritten history of the American Revolu- 
 tion, and, at the same time, a faithful bio- 
 graphy of the most distinguished actors in 
 that great struggle, whose memories are 
 enshrined in our hearts. The typographical 
 execution of the work is excellent, and the 
 sixteen portraits on steel are remarkably 
 well done. The first volume is embel- 
 lished with a life-like portrait of Washing- 
 ton mounted on his charger, from Sully's 
 picture, " Quelling the Whishy Riots.'" This 
 is, we believe, the first engraving taken 
 from it. There are biographies of eighty- 
 eight Generals, beginning with "the Father 
 of his country," and closing with General 
 Maxwell. To accomplish this task, we 
 are assured that "the accessible published 
 and unpublished memoirs, correspondence, 
 and other materials relating to the period, 
 have been carefully examined and faith- 
 fully reflected." AVe earnestly commend 
 this -work. It will be found an unerring 
 record of the most interesting portion of 
 our history. — The City Item. 
 
 This work differs from Mr. Headley's, 
 having nearly the same title, in many im- 
 portant particulars; and as a7i historical book 
 is much superior. — N. Y. Co?n. Advertiser. 
 
 Certainly the most comprehensive and 
 individualized work that has ever been 
 published on the subject — each member of 
 the great dramatis personce of the Revolu- 
 tionary tragedy, standing out in bold and 
 "sculptured" relief, on liis own glorious 
 d'^.'^ds — Saturday Courier. 
 
 This -work is a very different affair from 
 the flashy and superficial book of the Rev. 
 J. T. Headley, entitled "Washington and 
 his Generals." It appears without the 
 
 name of any author, because it is the joint 
 production of many of the most eminent 
 writers in the country, resident in various 
 states in the Union, and having, from the 
 circumstance, access to original materials 
 in private hands, and to public archives not 
 accessible to any one individual without 
 long journey and much consumption of 
 time. The result, however, is a complete 
 and authentic w^ork, embracing biographi- 
 cal notices of every one of the Revolution- 
 ary Generals. The amount of fresh and ori- 
 ginal matter thus brought together in these 
 moderate-sized volumes, is not less sur- 
 prising than it is gratifying to the historical 
 reader. This will become a standard book 
 of reference, and will maintain its place in 
 libraries long after the present generation 
 shall have enjoyed the gratification of pe- 
 rusing its interesting pages, exhibiting in a 
 lively style the personal adventures and 
 private characters of the sturdy defenders 
 of American Independence. — Scott^s Weekly 
 Newspaper. 
 
 The author's name is not given, and from 
 what we have read, we presume that va- 
 rious pens have been employed in these in- 
 teresting biographies. This is no disadvan- 
 tage, but, on the contrary, a decided benefit, 
 for it insures greater accuracy than could be 
 looked for in such a series of biographies 
 written by one person in a few months. 
 The voluqies are published in a very hand- 
 some style. The first sixty pages are oc- 
 cupied with the biography of Washington, 
 which is written with force and elegance, 
 and illustrated by an original view of the 
 character of that great man. * * * The 
 number of the biographies in these volumes 
 is much greater than that of Mr. Headley's 
 work. There are eighty-eight distinct sub- 
 jects. — N. Y. Mirror. 
 
 We have read a number of the articles, 
 find them to be written with ability, and to 
 possess a deep interest. The author has 
 manifested excellent judgment in avoiding 
 all ambitious attempts at what is styled 
 Jine writing ; but gives a connected recital 
 of the important events in the lives of his 
 heroes. The work will be highly interest- 
 ing and valuable to all readers — particu- 
 larly so to youth, who are always attracted 
 by biographies. If a father wishes to pre- 
 sent to his sons noble instances of uncor- 
 rupted and incorruptible patriotism, let him 
 place this work in their hands. It should 
 have a place in every American library, 
 and is among the most valuable books of the 
 season. — Baltimore American. 
 
NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. HART. 
 
 FEDERAL ADMINISTRATIONS. 
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ADMINISTRATIONS OF 
 WASniNGTON AND JOHN ADAMS. 
 
 EDITED FROM THE PAPERS OF 
 
 OLIVER WOLCOTT, 
 
 SECKETAKY OF Ti£E TREASURY. 
 
 By GEORGE GIBBS. 
 
 " Nullius addictus jurare in Ter1»a magistri." 
 
 In 2'icoVols Octavo. lOOO Pages, Cloth Gilt. 
 
 Price e?5. 
 
 "Books of this character best illustrate 
 ihe history of the country. The men who 
 have acted imporlaut parts are made to 
 speak for themselves, and appear without 
 any aid from the partiality of friends, or any 
 injury from the detraction of enemies." — 
 Providence Journal. 
 
 '•The materials of which these volumes 
 are composed are of great value. They 
 consist of corrt'spondeuce, now first given 
 to the world, of Wasliingion, the elder 
 Adams, Ames, John Marshall, Rut'us King, 
 Timothy Pickering, Wolcott, &c. There 
 are thirty-seven original letters from Alex- 
 ander Hamilton, many of them of the highest 
 interest; one in which the writer with keen 
 sagacity and all the splendor of his elo- 
 quence, gives a character of iVIr. Burr upon 
 which his own tate was destined to put the 
 seal of truth, is read now with singular 
 emotions. Mr. Gibbs has peribrmed his 
 task extremely well. His prelace is modest 
 and dignified. The passages of narrative 
 by which the letters are connected are ac- 
 curate, judicious and agreeable; they illus- 
 trate, and do not overlay the principal ma- 
 terial of the work." — North American. 
 
 " Here we meet, illustrated in something 
 like forty important letters, the blazing intel- 
 ligence, the practical sagacity, the heroic 
 generosity, the various genius, which have 
 made Hamilton the name of statesmanship 
 and greatness, rather than the name of a 
 man. ilere we have the piercing judgment 
 of John Marshall, unsusceptible of error, 
 whose capacity to see the truth was equalled 
 only by his power of compelling others to 
 receive it; in the light of whose logic opi- 
 nions ajipeared to assume the nature of 
 facts, and truth acquires the palpableness 
 of a material reality; the blunlness. ibrce 
 and probity of Pickering; the sterling ex- 
 cellences of Wolcott himself, who had no 
 artifices and no coucealuienls. because hs 
 strength was too great to require them, and 
 his purposes loo pure to admit them; and 
 sounding as an understrain through the 
 whole, the prophet tones of Ames." — U. S. 
 Gazette. 
 
 "An important and valuable addition to 
 the historical lore of the country."— iV. Y. 
 Even ins: Gazette. 
 
 " We look upon these memoirs as an ex- 
 ceedingly valuable contribution to our na- 
 tional records." — N. Y Com. Advertiser. 
 
 PETERS' DIGEST. 
 
 A FULL AXD ARRANGED 
 
 DIGEST OF THE DECISIONS 
 
 hi Common Laiv, Equity, and Admiralty 
 
 OF THE COURTS OF THE UNITED STATES, 
 
 Fi'om the Organization of the Government in 
 1789 to 1S47 : 
 
 IN THE SUPREME, CIRCtnT, DISTRICT, ANT) 
 ADMIRALTY COURTS; 
 
 Reported in Dallas, Cranch, Wheaton, Peters, 
 and Howard's Supreme Court Reports ; in 
 Gallison, Mason, Paine, Peters, Washington, 
 Wallace, Sumner. Story, Baldwin, Brocken- 
 brougli, and McLean's Circuit Court Re- 
 ports: and in Bees, Ware, Peters, and Gil- 
 pin's District and Admiralty Reports. 
 
 BY RICHARD PETERS. 
 
 With an Appendix — containing the Rules 
 and Orders of the Supreme Court of the Un'ted 
 States in Proceedings in Equity, established 
 by the Supreme Court. Complete in two 
 large octavo volumes, law binding, raised 
 bands, at a low price. 
 
 THRILLING INCIDENTS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 WARS OF THE UMTED STATES. 
 
 COMPRISING THE MOST 
 
 STRIKING AND REMARKABLE EVENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 The Revolution, the French War, the 
 
 Tripoli tan War, the Indian War, the 
 
 Second War with Great Britain, 
 
 and the Mexican War. 
 
 WITH THREE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "The Army and Navy of the United States." 
 
 In One Volume Octavo, 600 Pages, xvith .300 
 illustrations of Battle Scenes, Portraits, 
 
 HI E 31 O I R S 
 
 OF THE 
 
 QUEENS OF FRANCE. 
 
 By MRS. FORBES BUSH. 
 
 FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITION. 
 In Two Vols. l'2mo., with Portraits. 
 
 "iNlrs. Forbes Uusli is a graceful writer, 
 and in the work before us has selectee) the 
 prominent features m the lives of i he Queens 
 with a <;;reat deal of judifinent and discrimi- 
 nation. These memoirs will be Ibund not 
 only peculiarly iiUerestini;, but also in- 
 structive as throwing considerable liglil 
 njjon the manners and cu.stoms of pasl 
 ages."— Western Continent. 
 
 5 
 
NEW BOOKS PUBLISHEI> BY A. HART. 
 
 MORPIT'S APPLIED CHEMISTRY. 
 
 A TREATISE UPON CHEMISTRY, 
 
 IN ITS APPLICATION TO THE MANUFACTURE OF 
 
 SOAPS AND CANDLES. 
 
 BEING A THOROUaH EXPOSITION OF THE PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OF THE TRaDK 
 IN ALL THEIR MINUTI^, BASED UPON THE MOST RECENT DISCOVERIES IN 
 
 SCIEJNCE. 
 
 BY CAMPBELL MOEFIT, 
 
 PRACTICAL AND ANALYTICAL CHEMIST. 
 
 "Witli 170 Engravings on "Wood. 
 
 This work is based upon the most recent discoveries in Science and improvements 
 IN Abt, and presents a thorough exposition of the principles and practice of the trade in 
 all their minutiae. The experience and al)i]ily of the author have enabled him to produce 
 A MORE COMPLETE AND COMPREHENSIVE BOOK upon the Subject than any extant. The whole 
 arrangement is designed with a view to the scientific enlightenment, as well as the in- 
 Btrucion of the manufacturer, and its contents are such as to render it not only A stand- 
 ard GUIDE BOOK TO THE OPERATIVE, but also an authoritaiivc work of reference for the 
 Chemist AND THE Student. 
 
 An examination of the annexed table of contents will show the invaluable usefulness 
 of the work, the practical features of which are illustrated by upwards of one hundred 
 
 AND SIXTY ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD. 
 
 The following synopsis embraces only the ?nai7i heads 
 Chap. 1. Introductory Remarks. 
 
 " 2. The Dignity of the Art a7id its Re 
 
 lations to Science- i Chap. 17. 
 
 " 3. Affinity and Chemical Equiva- 
 lents : — Explanation of. 
 
 " 4. Alkalies. — Lime, Foiassa, Soda, 
 Ammonia. 
 
 *' 5. Alkalime-try. 
 
 " 6 J.«c?5.— Carbonic, Sulphuric, Hy- 
 drochloric, Nitric, Boracic. 
 Acidimetry. 
 
 " 7. Origin and Composition of Fatty 
 -Matters. 
 
 " 8. Saponifiahle Fate.— Oils of Al- 
 mond, Olive, Mustard, Beech, 
 Poppy, Rapeseed, Grapeseed; 
 Nut Oil, Linseed Oil, Castor 
 Oil, Palm Oil, (processes for 
 bleaching it;) Coco Butter, 
 Nutmeg Butler, Galum Butter, 
 Athamantine. 
 
 " 9. Adulteration of Oils. 
 
 " 10. Action of Acids upon Oils. 
 
 " 11. Volatile Oils.— The Properties of, 
 and their applicability to the 
 Manufacture of Soaps. 
 
 " 12. Volatile Oils:— Their Origin and 
 Composition; Table of their 
 Specific Gravities. 
 
 " 13. Essential Oils: — The Adultera- 
 tions of, and the modes of de- 
 tecting them. 
 
 " 14. Wax:— Its Properties and Com- 
 position. I " 24. 
 
 " 15. jRestns : — Their Properties and 
 Composition ; Colophony and 
 Gallipot. 
 
 •* 16. Animal Fats and Oils :— Lard, [ " 25. 
 Mutton Suet, Beef-tallow, Beef- 
 marrow, Bone-fat, Soap-grease, 
 Oil-lees, Kitchen-stuff, Human- ^ " 26. 
 fatj Adipocire, Butter, Fish-oil, 
 
 18. 
 
 21. 
 22. 
 23. 
 
 of each Chapter and Paragraph. 
 
 Spermaceti, Delphinine, Neats 
 feet Oil. 
 
 The Constituents of Fats, their 
 Properties and Composition: 
 Stearine, Stearic Acid and 
 Salts; Margarine. Maro'arie 
 Acid and Salts; Olein, Oleic 
 Acid and Salts; Celine, Celylic 
 Acid ; Phocenine, Phocenic 
 Acid and Salts ; Butyrine, Bu- 
 tyric Acid and Salts; Caproic, 
 Capric Acid; Hircine, Hircic 
 Acid; Cholesterine. 
 
 Basic Constituents of Fats: — 
 Glycerin. Ethal. 
 
 Theory of Saponification. 
 
 Utensils: — Steam Series, Buga- 
 diers or Ley Vats, Soap Frames, 
 Caldrons, &c. 
 
 The Systemized arrangement for 
 a Soap Factory. 
 
 ReTnarks, — Preliminary to the 
 Process for Making Soap. 
 
 Hard Soaps : — " Cutting Pro- 
 cess;" Comparative Value of 
 Oils and Fats as Soap ingredi- 
 ent, with Tables ; White, Mot- 
 tled, Marseilles, Yellow, Yan- 
 kee Soaps; English Yellow and 
 White Soap, Coco Soap, Palm 
 Soap, Butter Soap, English 
 Windsor Soap, French Wind- 
 sor Soap. Analyses of Soaps. 
 
 Process for Making Soap : — Pre- 
 paration of the Leys, Empa- 
 lage, Relargage, Coction, Mot- 
 tling, Cooling. 
 
 Extemporaneous Soaps: — Lard, 
 Medicinal, " Hawes," " Ma 
 quer," and "Darcet's" Soaps 
 
 Silicated Soaps: — Flint, Sand, 
 " Dunn's," " Davis's" Soaps. 
 
NEW BOOKS rUBLISIIED BY A. HART, 
 
 Chap. 27. Patent Soaps. — Dextrine, Salina- 
 ted Soaps, Soap from Hardened 
 Fat. 
 
 " 28. AndersotCs Improvements. 
 
 " 29. Soft Soaps: — Process for Making, 
 Crown Soaps, '"Savon Vert." 
 
 " 30. The Conversion of Soft Soaps into 
 Hard Soaps. 
 
 " 31. Frauds in Soap Making and 
 Means for their Detection. 
 
 •' 32. Earthy Soaps. Marine Soap. Me- 
 tallic Soaps. Ammoniacal Soap. 
 
 " 33. Soap fro7n Volatile 0/7s;— Siar- 
 ky's Soap, Aciion of Alkalies 
 upon Essential Oils. 
 
 " 34. ^'Savons Acides,^' or Olco-acidu- 
 lated Soap. 
 
 " 35. Toilet Soaps: — Purification of 
 Soaps, Admixed Soap, Cinna- 
 mon, Rose, Orange - flower, 
 Bouquet, Benzoin, Cologne, 
 Vanilla, Musk, Naples, Kasan 
 Soaps, Flotant Soaps, Trans- 
 parent Soaps Soft Soaps, Sha- 
 ving Cream ; Remarks. 
 
 " 36. Areometers and Thermometers: — 
 their use and value. 
 
 " 37. Weights and Measicres. 
 
 " 38. Candles. 
 
 " 39. Illumination 
 
 " 40. Philosojjhy of Flame. 
 
 " 41. Raw Material for Candles: — 
 
 Modes of Rendering Fats, 
 •' Wilson's Steam Tanks. 
 CnAr. 42. Wicks: — Their use and action. 
 Cutting Machines. 
 
 " 43. Of the Manufacture of Candles. 
 
 " 41. l>i/)77f(/ Cart^y/fes; — Improved Ma- 
 chinery for facilitating their 
 Manufacture. 
 
 " 45. Material of Uaiidles : — Process 
 for Improving its Quality. 
 
 " 46. Moulded Candles: — impTovei 
 Machinery for facilitating their 
 Manutacture.— " Vaxeme," or 
 Summer Candles. 
 
 " 47. Stearic Acid Candles:— Adamant- 
 ine and Star Candles. 
 
 " ii. Stearin Catidles : — BiSLCOnnoVa 
 and Morfii's Process. 
 
 " 49. Sper7n Candles. 
 
 " 50. Falmine., Palm Wax, Coco Can- 
 dles. 
 
 " 51. Wa.r, Candles :— Mode of Bleach- 
 ing the Wax, with drawings of 
 the apparatus requisite there- 
 for; Bougies, Cierges, Flam- 
 beaux. 
 
 " 52. Patent Canrfte : — " Azotized," 
 Movable Wick and Goddard's 
 Candles ; Candles on Continu- 
 ous Wick ; Water and Hour 
 Bougies. Perfumed Candles. 
 " 53. Concluding Retnarks. Vocabu- 
 
 lary. 
 
 Terms.— The book is handsomely printed, with large type, and on good thick paper, 
 in an octavo volume of upwards of five hundred pages, the price of which is fl^S per 
 copy, neatly bound in cloth gilt, or it will be forwa-ded by mail free of postage in flexible 
 covers, on receiving a remittance of J)5. (A limited number only printed.) 
 
 PERFUMERY; 
 
 ITS MANUFACTURE AND USE: 
 
 WITH INSTRUCTIONS IN EVERY BRANCH OF THE ART, AND 
 RECIPES FOR ALL THE FASHIONABLE PREPARATIONS. 
 
 THE WHOLE FORMING A VALUABLE AID TO THE 
 
 Perfamer, Druggist and Soap Manufacturer. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS WOOD-CUTS 
 
 From tlie Frencli of Celuart and otlier late Autliorities. 
 
 V\'-ITH ADDITIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS 
 
 BY CAMPBELL MORFIT, 
 
 Practical and Analytical Chemist. 
 
 "This is a translation from the French of j "A very useful work, and one which, we 
 Celnart, and other late authorities, with Uhink, must become immensely popular. I\ 
 additions and irnprovemciils by Campbell \ exposes the whole art and mystery of the 
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 WAGGERIES and VAGARIES. 
 
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 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY DARLEY. 
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A. HAET'S STANDARD WOEKS. 
 
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A. HART'S STANDARD WORKS. 
 
 PROSEWRITERSOF AMERICA. 
 
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 SI Hcto antJ (Kljeap HUttioit 
 
 OF TIIK HISTORY OF 
 
 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 BY M. A. THIERS, 
 
 LATE PRIME MINISTER OF FRANCE. 
 
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 work. Braiding, Needle work. Cleaning 
 Furs, Merinos, &c.. Washing I^aces, De- 
 stroying Ants, Bugs and Mice, Cleaning 
 Silver, Preparing Colors, making Artificial 
 Flowers, &c. &.c. Complete in one volume, 
 400 pages, price, bound, SI 00. 
 
 Mtss Leslie's Complete Cookery, bd., SI 00 
 Miss Leslie's Mouse Book, hound, . 1 00 
 .Miss Leslie's Frexc!i Cookery, . 2-5 
 Miss Leslie's Indian Mbal Book, • 2S 
 
 11 
 
A. IIAET'S STANDARD WORKS. 
 
 THE MODERN BRITISH ESSAYISTS 
 
 At less tiiaii Half Price. 
 
 The great success lliat has aitonded the publication of 
 THE MODERN ESSAYISTS, 
 Comprising the Critical and Miscellant-ous Writings of the Most Distinguished Author* 
 of Modern Times, has induced the publishers to issue a New. Revised and very Cheap 
 Edition, with Finely Engraved Portraits of the Authors; and while they have addet/ to 
 ihe series the writings of several distinguished authors, they have reduced the price more 
 ;lian 
 
 ONE I-IAJLF. 
 The writings of each author will generally be comprised in a single octavo volume, 
 well printed from new type, on fine white paper manufactured expressly for this edition. 
 The series will contain all the most able papers that have tVER appeared in 
 
 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW, 
 
 tUf^z SLontron (?Biiiarterli) 2^Ebieto, an"D SSlaci^.toooU^s l^a^anne, 
 
 and may indeed be called the cream of those publications. 
 
 It is only necessary to mention the names of the authors whose writings w^ill appear. T. 
 Babington Macaulay, Archibald Alison, Rev. Sydney Smith, Professor Wilson 
 James Stephen, Rosert Southey, Sir Walter Scott. Lord Jeffrey, Sir James Mack- 
 INTOSH, T. Noon Talfoctrd, J. G. Lockhart. Reg vald Heber. 
 
 The popularity of the authors and the extreme moderaiiCii of the price, recommend 
 
 THE IS/IODERN ESSAYISTS, 
 
 To HEADS OF Families for their Children, as perfect models of style. 
 
 To Managers of Book Societies, Book Clubs. &c. 
 
 To School Inspectors, Schoolmasters and Tutors, as suitable gifts and prizes, or 
 adapted for School Libraries. 
 
 Travellers on a Journey will find in these portable and cheap volumes something to 
 read on the road, adapted to fill a corner in a portmanteau or carpet-bag 
 
 To Passengers on board a Ship, here are ample materials in a narrow compass for 
 whiling away the monotonous hours of a sea voyage. 
 
 To Officers in the Army and Navy, and to all Economists in space or pocket, who, 
 having limited chambers, and small book-shelves, desire to lay up for themselves a concen- 
 trated Library, at a moderate expenditure. 
 
 To ALL WHO HAVE Friends IN DISTANT COUNTRIES, as an acceptable present to send 
 out to them. 
 
 The Modern Essayists will yield to the Settler in the Backwoods of America the most 
 valuable and interesting writings of all the most djslmguished authors of our time at less 
 than one quarter the price they could be obtained in any other form. 
 
 The Student and Lover of Literature at Home, who has hitherto been compelled 
 to wade through volumes of Reviews for a single article, may now become possessed of 
 every article loorth reading for little more than the cost of the annual subscription. 
 
 I. i Ranke's fiisiory of the Popes. Cowley and 
 
 "B^f /5i ^ ;^ f T?* /J^l'' s Milton, Mitford's History of Greece, The 
 
 lEf Ja&a,l!i5 J2a U J-iBfea. =1!. . > Athenian Orators, Comic Dramatists of the 
 
 _ „ — „ , .,„„„^ < Restoration, Lord Holland, Warren Hast- 
 
 CRITICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS ] in?^, Frederic the Great, Lays of Ancient 
 
 lA/ r\ 1 -^ I M y-v 5^ r\r- ^ Rome, Madame D'Arblay, Addison, Ba- 
 
 W K I M N G o O F I i-ere's Memoirs, Montgomery's Poems, Civil 
 
 THOMAS BABINGTON MAGAULAY. < Disabilities of the Jews, Mill on Govern- 
 
 In 0?ie Volume, with a finely engraved ment. Bentham's Defence of Mill, Utilita- 
 
 iwrtrait. from an original picture \ nan Theory of Government, and Earl Chat- 
 
 by Henry Inman. Cloth Gilt, Mi am second part. &c. 
 
 g2 00. > '■ ^^ may now be asked by some sapient 
 
 critics, Why make all this coil about a mere 
 periodicf 1 essayist? Of what possible con- 
 
 Couteiits. 
 
 Milton, Machiavelli, Dryden, History, ^ cern is it to anybody, whether Mr. Thomas 
 Hallam's Constitutional History, Southey's ? Babington Macaulay be, or be not, overrun 
 Colloquies on Society, Moore's Life of By- > with faulis. since he is nothing more than 
 ron, Southey's Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, 5 one of the three-day immortals who contri- 
 Croker's Boswell's Life of Johnson, Lord S bute flashy and ' taking' articles to a Quar- 
 Nugent's Memoirs of Hampden. Nare's Me- ^ terly Review ? What great work has he 
 moirs of liord Burghley, Dumont's Recol- < written? Such questions as these might be 
 lections of Mirabeau, Lord Mahon's War of < put by the same men who place the Specta- 
 the Succession, Walpole's Letters to Sir H. < tor, Tattler and Rambler among the British 
 Mann, Thackaray's History of Earl Chat- < classics, yet judge of the size of a cotempo- 
 h am.. Lord Bacon, Mackintosh's History of ^ rary's mind by that of his book, and who 
 the Revolution of England, Sir John Mai- ? can hardly reeognize amplitude of compre- 
 colm's Life of Lord Clive, Life and Writings $ hension, unless it he spread over the six 
 of Sir W. Temple, Church and State, > hundred pages of octavos and quartos. — 
 12 - 
 
A. HART'S STANDARD WORKS. 
 
 Such men would place Bancroft above Web- 
 ster, and SparKS above Calhoun, Adams an<l 
 Everett— deny a posterity lor Hryaut's Tlia- 
 naiopsis, and predict longevity to Pollok's 
 Course of Time. It is siiifjular that the sa- 
 gacity which can detect tliouglit only in a 
 state ofdilntion, is not sadlj' o;raveled vvhiin 
 it thinks of the sententious aphorisms wliich 
 have survived whole libraries of folios, and 
 the little songs wliich have outrun, in the 
 race of fame, so many enormous epics. — 
 While it can easily be demonstrated that 
 Macaulav's writings contain a hundred-fold 
 more matter and thought, than an equal 
 number of volumes taken from what are 
 called, par eminence, the 'British Essay- 
 ists,' it IS not broaching any literary heresy 
 to predict, that they will sail as tar down 
 the stream of time, as those eminent mem- 
 bers of the illustrious family of British elas- 
 tics." 
 
 ARCZZXB AXib ALZSOSr. 
 
 THE CRITICAL .4ND MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 WRITINGS OF 
 ARCHIBALD ALISON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE HIsTOKV OF tUHOPE," 
 
 In One Volume, 8vo. with a portrait. 
 
 Price ^1 25. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chateaubriand, Napoleon. Bossuet, Po- 
 land, Madame de Stael, National Monu- 
 ments, Marshal Ney, Robert Bruce, Paris 
 in 1814, The I^ouvre in 1SI4 Tyrol. France 
 in ie-33, Italy, Scott. Campbell and Byron, 
 Schools of Design, Lamartine, The Copy- 
 right Question, INIichelet's France. Military 
 Treason and Civic Soldiers. Arnold's Rome. , 
 Mirabeau. Bulwer's Alliens, The Reign of' 
 Terror. The French Revolution of 1>:J(I, 
 The Fall of Turkey. The Spanish Revolu- 
 tion of 1820, Karamsin's Russia, Eflects of I 
 the French Revolution of 18o0, Desertion of I 
 Portugal, Wellington. Carlist Struggle in 
 Spam. The Affghanistan Expedition, The 
 Future, &.c. &c. 
 
 THE WORKS OF THE 
 
 REV. SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 Fine Edition. In One N'olume, with a 
 portrait. Price SI 00. 
 
 " Almost every thing he has written is .eo 
 characteristic that it would be difficnli to 
 attribute it to any other man. The markid 
 mdividual features and the rare combina- 
 tion of power displayed in his works, give 
 them a fascination unconnected with the 
 Bubjeclof which he Ireatsor the general cor- 
 rectness of his views. Me sometimes hits 
 the mark in the white, he sometimes misses 
 It altogether, for he by no means confines 
 his pen to theories to which lie is calculated 
 to do justice; but whether he hits or mis.<es, 
 he is always sparkling and delightful. The 
 charm of his writings is somewhat similar 
 to that of Alontaicne or Charles Lamb." — 
 North American Review. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fi&orzsssoR wzLsonr. 
 
 THE RECREATIONS OF 
 
 CHRISTOPHER NORTH. 
 
 In One Volume 8vo., first American Edition, 
 with a Portrait. Price Si 00. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Christopher in his Sporting Jacket— A 
 Tale of Expiation — Morning 'Monologue — 
 The Field of Flowers— Cottages— An Hour's 
 Talk about Poetry — Inch Cruin — A Day at 
 Windermere— The Moors — Highland Snow- 
 Storm— The Holy Child— Our Parish— May- 
 day — Sacred Poetry— Christopher in his 
 Aviary— Dr. Kitchiner — Soliloquy on the 
 Seasons — A Few Words on Thomson — 
 The Snowball Bicker of Piedmont — Christ- 
 mas Dreams — Our Winter Quarters — Stroll 
 to Grafsmere — I/Eiivoy. 
 
 Extract from Howitfs ^^ Rural Life." 
 
 " And not less for that wonderful series 
 of articles by Wilson, in Blackwood's 
 Mn.!xa.zme— in their kind as truly ainazing 
 and as truly glorious as the romances of 
 Scott or the poetry of Wordsworth. Far and 
 wide and much as these papers have been 
 admired, wherever Ihe English language is 
 read, I still question wheilier any one man 
 has a just idea of them as a whole." 
 
 V. 
 
 Carlyle's Miscellanies. 
 CRITICAL AKdIiISCELLANEOUS 
 
 ESSAYS OF 
 
 THOMAS CARLVLE. 
 
 In one Svo. volume, with a Portrait. 
 Pkice si 75. 
 C ONTENTS. 
 Jean Paul Friedrich Richter- State of 
 German Literature — Werner — Goethe's 
 Helena-Gocthe—Burns— Hey ne— German 
 Playwnijhts— Voltaire— Nova! is— Signs of 
 the Time.s— Jean Paul Friedrich Richter 
 again- On History— Schil!er—The Nibel- 
 lungen Lied— Early German Literature — 
 Taylor's Historic Survey of(ierman Poetry 
 — Characteristics— Johnson— Death of Go- 
 ethe—Goethe's Works— Diderot— On His- 
 tory again— Count Cagliostro— Corn Law 
 Rhymes— The Diamond Necklace— Mira- 
 btau— French Parliamentary History — 
 Walter Scott, &c. &:c. 
 
 VI. 
 TAIjFOTJRD & STEPHEN. 
 
 THE CRITICAL WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 T. NOON TALFOUIID 
 
 AND 
 
 JAMES STEPHEN 
 
 WITH A FINELY ENGRAVED POHTKAIT, 
 
 In One Volume, 8vo. 
 
 Price SI i55. 
 13 
 
A. HART'S STANDARD WORKS. 
 
 Contents of <' Talfonrd." ; 
 
 Essays on British Novels and Romances, ; 
 introductory to a series of Criticisms on ihe \ 
 Living Novelists— ]\Iacl<:enzie. The Author ; 
 of Waverley, Godwin, Maturin, Rymer on 
 Tragedy, CoUey Gibber's Apology for his ; 
 Life, John Dennis's Vv^orks, Modern Pe- 1 
 riodical Literature, On the Genius and' 
 Writings of Wordsworth, North's Life of! 
 Lord Guilford, Hazlitt's Lectures on the I 
 Drama, Wallace's Prospects of Mankind, 
 Nature and Providence, On Pulpit Ora- 
 tory, Recollections of Lisbon, Lloyd's ; 
 Poems, Mr Oldaker on Modern Improve- ; 
 ments, A Chapter on Time, On the Profes- 
 sion of the Bar, The Wine Cellar, Destruc- 
 tion of the Brunswick Theatre by Fire,! 
 First Appearance of Miss Fanny Kernble, ! 
 On the Litellectual Character of the late; 
 Wm. Hazlitt. 
 
 Contents of " Stephetit^^ 
 
 Life of Wilberforce, Life of Whitfield and 
 Froude, D'Aubigne's Reformation, Life and ; 
 Times of Baxter, Physical Theory of Ano- ; 
 ther Life, The Port Royalists, Ignatius Loy- 
 ola, Taylor's Edwin the Fair. 
 
 " His (Talfourd's) Critical writings mani- 
 fest on every page a sincere, earnest and 
 sympathizing love of intellectual excel- 
 lence and moral beauty. The kindliness! 
 of temper and tenderness of sentiment with ! 
 which they are animated, are continually; 
 suggesting pleasant thoughts of the author." ; 
 — North American Review. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE CRITICAL WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 FRANCIS LORD JEFFREY. 
 
 In One Volume Svo., with a Portrait. 
 
 From a very able article in the Nortli 
 British Review we extract the following: 
 
 "It is a book not to be read only— but 
 studied— it is a vast repository ; or rather 
 a system or institute, embracing the whole 
 circle of letters — if we except the exact 
 sciences— and contains within itself, not in 
 a desultory form, but in a well digested 
 scheme, more original conceptions, bold 
 and tearless speculation and just reasoning 
 on all kinds and varieties of subjects than 
 are to be found in any English writer with 
 whom we are acquainted within the pre- 
 sent or the last generation. * * * His 
 choice of words is unbounded and his feli- 
 city of expression, to the most impalpable 
 shade of discrimination, almost miraculous. 
 Playfu., lively, and full of illustration, no 
 subject is so dull or so dry that he cannot 
 invest it with interest, and none so trifling 
 that it cannot acquire dignity or elegance 
 from his pencil. Independently however, 
 of mere style, and apart from the great 
 variety of subjects embraced by his pen, 
 the distinguishing feature of his writings, 
 and that m which he excels his cotempo- 
 rary reviewers, is the deep vein of practical 
 tltoaght which runs throughout them all." 
 14 
 
 VIII 
 
 SIR JAMES BIAGKINTOSH. 
 
 SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH'-S 
 
 COi^TRlBUTIONS TO THE EDIN- 
 
 BmGII REVIEW. 
 
 Collected and Edited by his Son, 
 In One Volume 8vo., with a Portrait, fl 75. 
 
 THE POEMS 
 
 FRAKCES SARGENT OSGOOD. 
 IllustratjclJ ^2 i^- ^-^J^t artists. 
 
 In one volume octavo, uniform with Carey (& 
 HarVs illustrated Bryant, Willis, <£c. 
 
 The following exquisitely finished line en- 
 gravings are from original designs, by our 
 most celebrated painters, and are executed in 
 the highest style of art: — Portrait of tiie Au- 
 thoress ; Hope ; A Child playing with a 
 Watch; The Reaper; Ida: Old Friends; The 
 Child's Portrait ; Little lied Riding Hood ; 
 The Life Boat; Twilight Hours; The Arab 
 and his Steed ; Zxileika. 
 
 " There is notliing mechanical about her ; 
 all is buoyant, overflowing, irrepressible vi- 
 vacity, like the bubbling itp of a natural 
 fountain. In her almost childish playful 
 ness, she reminds us of that exquisite crea- 
 tion of Foiique, Undine, who kuew no law 
 but that of her own waywardness. The great 
 charm of her poetry is its unaffected simpli- 
 city. It is the transparent simplicity of truth, 
 reflecting the feeling of the moment like a 
 mirror." — Eev. Dr. Davidson. 
 
 "In all the poems of Mrs. Osgood, we find 
 occasion to admire the author as well as the 
 works. Her spontaneous and instinctive effu- 
 sions appear, in a higher degree than any 
 otliers in our literature, to combine the rarest 
 and highest capacities in art with tlie sincerest 
 and deepest sentiments and the noblest aspi- 
 rations. They would convince us, if the 
 beauty of her life wore otherwise unknown, 
 that Mrs. Osgood is one of the loveliest; cha- 
 racters in the histories of literature or so- 
 ciety." — Pennsylvania Inquirer and Courier. 
 
 "The position of Mrs. O.'sgood, as a graceful 
 and womanly poetess, is fixed, and will be 
 enduring. To taste of faultless delicacy, a 
 remarkable command of poetical language, 
 great variety of cadence, and a most mu,'=ical 
 versification, she has added recently the high- 
 est qualities of insi3iration, imagination, and 
 passion, in a degree rarely equalled in tlie 
 productions of women. . . . The reputation 
 which Mrs. Osgood enjoys, as one of the most 
 amiable, true-hearted, and brilliant ladies in 
 American societj'-, will add to the good for- 
 tune of a book, the intrinsic excellence and 
 beauty of which will secure for it a place 
 among the Standard creations of female ge- 
 nius." — Home Journal. 
 
A. HART'S STANDARD WORKS. 
 POETIOAI. lilBRARY. 
 
 THE POETS AND POETRY OF 
 EUROPE, ENGLAND, AMERICA, Etc. 
 
 CAREY & I FART liave just published in four spleiid d vohiiiK^?. heaulifally illustrated, 
 and uniform in size w.ih their new edition of '• THE MODERN ESSAYISTS,^^ a>id 
 forming a suitable companion to that dtlight/ul series: — 
 
 THE 
 
 POETS AND POETRY OF AMERICA: 
 
 Selections from the Poetical 
 Ijiterature of tJie irjiiteil ^ 
 States, from tlie Time of 
 tlie lievolution, 
 
 WITH A 
 
 Prelim) nary Es$ny on the Progress and 
 Condition of Poetry in this Coun- 
 try^ and Bios;raphiraland Cri- 
 tical Notices of the most 
 eminent Poets. 
 
 ByRUFUS w. griswold. 
 
 EIGHTH EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED. 
 
 Elegantly bound in Coi'd Calf and Morocco. 
 Price S5 00, or in Cloth Ciilt, m 00 
 
 " We think in the 500 pages of this beau- 
 tiful volume, the reader will fi.jd nearly ail 
 that is worih reading :n American I'oetry." 
 — Boston Post. 
 
 "Mr. G has done a service lo our litera- 
 ture which eminently enliiles him to the re- 
 gard and favor of a discerning and impartial 
 public." — NatioJial Intelligencer. 
 
 "No belter seleciion from the poetry of 
 our native bards has ever been made, and 
 no person could do better with the mate- 
 rials than iMr. Griswold has done." — Boston 
 Trayiscript. 
 
 THE 
 
 POETS A^D POETRY OF EUROPE: 
 
 WITH 
 
 Kiograpliical ?fotlces and 
 Traiislatiou.s, 
 
 From the Earliest Period to the Present 
 Time. 
 
 By HENRY W. LONGFELf.OW. 
 In One Large 8vo. Volume, 750 Pages. 
 Morocco elegant, S5 50, or cloth gill, .§3 75. 
 Which comprises Iranslalioiis from the fol- 
 iowing: Anglo-Saxon. Icelandic. Swe- 
 dish, Dutch. CJertnan. French, Ita- 
 lian, Spanish, Portuguese, &c. 
 &,c. 
 
 "It is the most complete work of the kind 
 in English literature." — Boston Courier. 
 
 '• A more desirable work for the scholar 
 or man of taste has scarcely ever been is- 
 •uedin the United Slates."— iV. Y. Tribune 
 
 ILLUSTRATED POEMS. 
 
 I BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY, 
 
 ' With Designs by F. O. C. Darley, 
 
 ENGRAVED BY DISTINGIHSHED ARTISTS. 
 
 With a Portrait of the Authoress by Cheney 
 after Freeman. 
 
 LIST or ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 The Divided Burden— A Landscape— Oris- 
 ka— The Ancient Family Clock — Eve— The 
 Scottish Weaver— The Indian Summer- 
 Erin's Daughter— The Western Emi^a-ant— 
 The Aged Pastor— The Tomb— The Droopine 
 Team— The Beautiful Maid. 
 
 "The volume is a most luxuriou.q and gor- 
 geous one, reflecting the highest credit on 
 its 'getters up;' and we know of nothing 
 from the American press which would form 
 a more acceptable gift-book, or a richer orna- 
 ment for the centre-table. Of the Poems 
 themselves it is needless to speak."- r:i?/arfe. 
 •'In the arts of typography the volume is 
 un.'surpa.^sed; the; illustrations are numerous 
 and beautitul, and the binder's skill has done 
 its best. We shall speak only of the exter- 
 nals of the volume. Of its contents we will 
 not speak flippantly, nor is it needful that 
 we should say any thing. The name of 3Irs. 
 Sigourney is familiar in every cottage in 
 America. She has, we think, been more 
 generally read than any poetess in the coun- 
 try, and her pure fame is reverently cherished 
 by all.'-— ^V. O. Picayune. 
 
 "It is illustrated in the most brilliant 
 
 manner, and is throughout a gem-volume." 
 
 Pa. Inciuirer. 
 
 '•In this production, however, they have 
 excelled them.«elves. The illustrations are 
 truly beautiful, and are exuuisitelv engraved. 
 iJie entire execution of the volume is a proud 
 evidence of the growing su])eriority of book- 
 making on the part of American publishers." 
 — J)i'Hur Newi^papcr. 
 
 '•This work, so beautifully embellished, 
 and elegantly printed, containing the .select 
 writings of one of the most celebrated female 
 poets of America, cannot fail to be received 
 with apj)rol)atiou."— i\'tu'/;Mrj/7)or< J'aper. 
 
 "The iIlu.strations are trulv beautiful, and 
 are exquisit.ly engraved. Thev are from 
 de.sjjrns by Darley, who has risen to high 
 eminence in his department of art. The e'n- 
 tire e.xccution of the vt.luine is a proud evi- 
 dence of growing superiority in b(X)k-iuakin<» 
 on the part of American publishers. And 
 this liberality has not been displayed upon a 
 work unworthy oi iV'—N.Y. Commercial Adv, 
 
 15 
 
A. HART'S STANDARD MEDICAL WORKS. 
 
 IIiXiUSTRATSD BIHDiaAI. £<IBRAR7. 
 
 CAREY & HART have recently published the following valuable Medical and Sur- 
 gical works, superbly illustrated— to which they beg leave to cj.I! the aiieniiou of the 
 profession. This splendid series now forms six royal quari"^ volumes, containing 
 FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY QUARTO PLATES, be uuifully executed; and 
 the price at which they are offered is infinitely less than any siiuilar works have here- 
 tofore been published. 
 
 QUAIN'S INifOlIOAL PLATES, 
 
 PAMCOAST'S 0FERATI"^21 SURaEHlT, 
 
 MOREiU'S GREIT WORK O'i MIDWIFERY, 
 
 ■GODDARD ON THE TEETH, 
 EICOEB OH EXTEEME CASES OF YEl^EEEAL DISEASES, 
 AND KAYER ON DISEASES OF THE SKIN. 
 
 I. 
 
 A SERIES OF 
 
 With References and Physiological Com- ^ 
 
 mentS; illustrating the structure of the [ 
 
 different parts of the Human Body. J 
 
 EDITED BY ( 
 
 JONES QUAIN, M.D.,AND | 
 W. J. ERASMUS WILSON. \ 
 
 With Notes and Additions by S 
 
 JOSEPH PANCOAST, M. D., ^ 
 
 Professor of Anatomy in the Jefferson Me- 
 dical College of Philadelphia. 
 
 THIRD AMERICAN KDITION. 
 
 The Plates are accompanied by letter- 
 press, containing detailed references to the 
 various objects delineated. But with a 
 view to render them intelligible to a greater 
 nuinber of persons, a running commentary 
 on each plate is given, stating in general 
 terms, and divested, as far as can be, of all 
 technicality, the uses and purposes which 
 the different objects serve in the animal 
 economy. 
 
 THE WORK CONSISTS OF THE FOLLOWING 
 DIVISIONS : 
 
 THE MUSCLES OF THE HUMAN 
 BODY, Fifty-one Plates. 
 
 THE VESSELS OF THE HUMAN 
 BODY, Fifty Plates. 
 
 THE NERVES OF THE HUMAN 
 BODY, Thirty -p.ight Plates. 
 
 THE VISCERA OF THE HUMAN 
 BODY, including the Organs of Digestion, 
 Respiration, Secretion and Excretion, 
 Thirty-tivo Plates. 
 16 
 
 THE BONES AND LIGAMENTS, 
 Thirty Plates. 
 
 Com-plete in One Royal Quarto Volume of 
 nearly .500 pages, and 200 plates, compris- 
 ing nearly 7W separate illustrations. Be- 
 ing the only complete systetn of Anatomi- 
 cal Plates, on a large scale., ever published 
 in America. 
 
 Price only $15, clotli gilt, or 
 $30 colored after nature. 
 
 H. 
 
 OB^IiM.TTWB SUBGSRIT; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A DESCRIPTION AND DEMONSTRA- 
 TION OP THE VARIOUS PRO- 
 CESSES OF THE ART; 
 
 INCLUDING ALL THE NEW OPERATIONS, 
 AND EXI-IIEITING THE STATE OF SUR- 
 GICAL SCIENCE IN ITS PRESENT 
 
 ADVANCED CONDITION. 
 
 BY JOSEPH PANCOAST, M.D., 
 
 Profe.^sor of General, Descriptive and Sur- 
 gical Anaiomy in Jefferson Medical 
 College, Philadelphia. 
 
 CoTnplete in One Royal 4to. Volum,e of 3S0 
 pages of letterpress description and eighty 
 large ito. plates, comprising 486 Illustra- 
 tions, and being the only complete 
 work on the subject in the English 
 Language. Price, fullbound 
 in cloth, only SIO. 
 
 Second Edition, Improved. 
 
 "This excellent work is con.strucced on 
 Ihe model of the French Surgical Works 
 by Velpeau and Malgaigne ; and, so far as 
 the English language is concerned, we are 
 
A. HART'S STANDARD MEDICAL WORKS. 
 
 proud as an American to say that, of its phor, which equals that of Dr. Goddard — 
 KIND IT HAS NO SUPERIOR." — New YorA: i One reasuH for Uiis uiay arisc froin llic c if- 
 Joiirnal of Medicine. <cuinstance, that ihe learned author is a 
 
 "For this beautiful volume, the student ^practical anatomist, whose knowledge is 
 and practitioner of Surgery will leel grate- ? on a level with the modern discoveries, 
 ful to tlie ability and industry of Prof Pan- , and who has himself autheniicated the 
 coast. The drawing and execution of the S latest researches into the uiuiute anatomy 
 plates are splendid examples of American \ of the dental structure. It is quite apparent 
 art, and do credit to Messrs. Cichowski \ that such knowledge must prove of inl- 
 and Duval, while the description is no less < raense value in enabling any one to arrive 
 creditable to the author. We have ex- \ at just conclusions relative to the diseases 
 amined the book with care, and feel great I ofthe teeth ; and it is chiefly to be attributed 
 pleasure in declaring tliat, in our opinion, Mo the want of such knowledge that most 
 It IS a most valuable addition to the surgical ? writers on Dental Surgery have erred so 
 literature of the United States. It was a > much relative to tlie causes and nature of 
 happy idea to illustrate this department of S these diseases. The work may confidently 
 surgery, as it renders perfectly clear what > be recommended, as containiiifj the best and 
 
 the very best verbal description often 
 leaves obscure, and is, to some extent, a 
 substitute for witnessing operations. To 
 those practitioners especially, who are 
 called upon occasionally, only, to perform 
 operations, we are not acquainted with any 
 volume better calculated for relerence prior 
 to using the kuite. There are similar 
 works published in Europe, but they are 
 much more expensive, without being supe- 
 rior in point of usefulness to the very cheap 
 volume belbre us. 
 
 "All the modern operations for the cure 
 of squinting, club-foot, and the replacing 
 lost parts and repairing deformities from 
 partial destruction of the nose, &c., are very 
 clearly explained and prettily illustrated. 
 It is questionable w^hether anything on this 
 subject can be better adajited to its purpose, 
 than Pancoast's Operative Surgery."— Sa- 
 turday Courier. 
 
 III. 
 
 GODDARD ON THE TEETH. 
 
 THE 
 
 ANATOMY, PHYSIOLOGY, 
 
 AND DISEASES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 TXZETH AND GUIVIS, 
 
 WITH THE MOST APPROVED METHODS OF 
 
 TREATMENT, INCLUDING 0PER.\TI0NS, 
 
 AND A GENERAL ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 METHOD OF MAKING AND 
 
 SETTING 
 
 Artificial Tectli. 
 
 By PAUL BECK GODDARD, M. D., 
 
 Professor of Anatomy and llisiology in 
 the Franklin College of Philadelphia. 
 
 In One 4to. Volume, illustrated by 30 
 
 beautifully executed Plates, each 
 
 containing Numerous Figures, 
 
 handsomely bound in cloth. 
 
 Price S'lK Dollars. 
 
 Vnifortnwith " Qiiaia^s Anatomy.^'' " Pa»i- 
 
 coast's Surgery,''' ami •• JMoreau's 
 
 Midwifery." 
 
 " We do not possess a modern work on 
 
 DentalSurgery, written by a British Au- 
 
 7nost approved methods of performing all 
 the operations connected loitli Dental Sur- 
 :ery. 
 
 " We cannot close our remarks without 
 adverting to the thirty very beauiilul liiho- 
 jraphs which illustrate the text. They 
 render it quite impossible to misunderstand 
 the author, and alford a very favorable ex- 
 ample of the advanced state of the Art on 
 the American Continent."— Edinburgh Me- 
 dical and SurgicalJournal, 1814. 
 
 IV. 
 
 MOREAU'S 
 
 Great Work on Mid^wifery 
 
 A PRACTICAL TREATISE 
 
 EXHIBITING THE I'R F.S KNT AD- 
 VANCED STATE OF TliE 
 SCIENCH. 
 
 BY F. G. MOREAU. 
 
 Translated from the French 
 BY T. FOREST BETTON, M, D., 
 
 AIS'D EDITED 
 
 BY PAUL BECK GODDARD, M. D. 
 
 The whole illustrated by 
 Eighty Spltndid i(innlo IHatcs^ 
 
 WHICH ARE EITHER 
 
 Tlie Size of £<ife, 
 
 OR EXACTLY HALF THE SIZE. 
 
 Upon which the first artists have been 
 
 employed, and which are fully equal, 
 
 if not superior, to the ori-^inal, 
 
 and the publishers can safely 
 
 pronounce it 
 
 THE MOST SPLENDID WORK ON MID- 
 WIFERY EVER PUBLISHED. 
 
 Now co7nplete in one larse 4to. volume, oj (H6 
 size of '^Qiiain's Anatomy^ ••Pun- 
 ; coast''s Surgery,'''' and '• Goddard 
 
 ' on Ihe Teeth. ''^ 
 
 Price TEN DOLIiARS, full 
 l>ountl ill clotli 
 
 J "The work of Professor Moreau is a 
 ' treasure of Obstetrical Science and Prac- 
 
 17 
 
A. HART'S STANDARD MEDICAL WORKS. 
 
 tice, and the American edition of it an ele- 
 gant specimen of the arts." — Medical Exa- 
 miner, August, 1844. 
 
 " A splendid quarto, containing- eighty 
 litliographic plates, true to the life, has been 
 some weeks before us— but we are groping 
 our way through a mass of new works, 
 w^ith a full expectation of soon doing jus- 
 tice to the merits of this elaborate and truly 
 beautiful work." — Boston Med. and Surg. 
 Journal. 
 
 " Moreau's treatise is another valuable 
 work upon the science of Midwifery, with 
 eighty of the most spLendid lithographic 
 plates w^e have ever seen. THESE IL- 
 LUSTRATIONS ARE ENGRAVED 
 WITH SO MUCH BEAUTY AND AC- 
 CURACY, AND UPON SO LARGE A 
 SCALE, that they cannot fail to present to 
 the eye the precise relation of the foetus and 
 of the parts engaged in labor, under every 
 condition and circumstance, from the com- 
 mencement of the siate of natural parturi- 
 tion, to the most difficult and complicated 
 labor. The profession are greatly indebted 
 to French industry in pathological and spe- 
 cial anatomy for the continued advance in 
 the science of Obstetrics ; and the work 
 before us may be regarded as the comple- 
 tion of all that has accumulated in this 
 department of medical science, greatly en- 
 hanced in value by many valuable original 
 suggestions, to the proper arrangement of I 
 which the author has devoted a great 
 amount of labor. The translation is faiiii- 
 fuUy and elegantly done, and the work will 
 be a valuable addition to the medical lite- 
 rature of our country."— iVei« York Journal 
 of Medicine. 
 
 V. 
 A THEORETICAL 
 
 AND 
 
 PRACTICAL TREATISE 
 
 ON THE 
 
 BISEASSS OF THE ill! 
 
 BY P. RAYER, 
 
 D. 
 
 Physician to La Charit^ Hospital. 
 
 From the Second Edition, entirely remo- 
 deled. With Notes and other Additions, 
 
 BY JOHlM bell, M. D. 
 
 Fellow of the College of Physicians of Phi- 
 ladelphia, Member of the American 
 Philosophical Society, and of the 
 Gengofili Society of Florence, 
 and Editor of Bell and 
 Stokes' Practice of Me- 
 dicine, &c. &c. 
 In One Royal Ato. Volume. 
 With Forty Beautifully Colored Plates, 
 
 COBIFRISING FOUR HUNDRED SEPARATE 
 ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 Carefully Colored from Nature, and 450 
 pages of Letterpress. 
 
 Handsomely bound in Cloth Grilt. 
 Price .*15 00. 
 
 Opinions of the Press. 
 
 " We take leave of our author with the 
 declaration that. his work is a monument of 
 the mostextra.ordinary industry. We have 
 no hesitation in adding that it is the best 
 book we possess in any language on the 
 subject ; and- that should any of our read- 
 ers desire to sail over the unbounded sea 
 of letterpress formed of the history and 
 pathology of the diseases of the cutaneous 
 surface, M. Rayer should be his pilot " 
 
 Of the PLA.TES. — " Considered in this re- 
 spect, but more especially in reference to 
 the number of illustrations of the general 
 species and varieties of such order which 
 it contains, this Atlas far surpasses any 
 that has yet appeared. ON THE WHOLE 
 RAYEIVS ATLAS MAY CONSCIEN- 
 TIOUSLY BE SAID TO CONTAIN 
 THE MOST COMPLETE SERIES OF 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF CUTANEOUS 
 DISEASES HITHERTO PUBLISH- 
 ED, AND IS. BESIDES, not only cheap- 
 er than any other, but well worth the sum 
 for v»rkich it is offered to the profession "— 
 British and Foreign Medical Review. 
 
 A PRACTICAL TREATISE 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DISEASES OF THE TESTIS, 
 
 AND OF THE 
 
 SPERMATIC CORD AND SCROTUM. 
 
 BY J. B. CURLING. 
 Edited by P. B. GODDARD, M. D., 
 
 With fifty-four Illustrations, engraved 
 on Wood by Gilbert; and printed 
 on large type and fine paper. 
 I'rice $3 00. 
 " We have another instance of it in the 
 work of Mr. Curling, a diligent laborer, 
 who has carefully collected every fact 
 within his reach, relative to the diseases of 
 the Testis and Spermatic Cord, producing 
 A Volume that may for many years be 
 the Standard Work on those Diseases. 
 We shall conclttde our notice with an ex- 
 tract relative to a new and promising me- 
 thod of treating varicose veins, and take 
 leave of the volume by warmly recom- 
 mending that it be added to the library of 
 every surgeon." — London Lancet, August^ 
 1843. 
 
 ON EXTREME CASES OP 
 
 VEHEEEAL DISEASES 
 
 Cured at the Venereal Hospital at Paris, 
 
 Under the direction of Dr. Ph. Eicord, with 
 276 elegantly coloured engravings, in one 
 volume quarto, uniform with " Quain's Ana- 
 tomical Plates," " Pancoast's Operative Sur 
 gery," &c. Price $15.00 doth, gilt. 
 
 18 
 
 25 8 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 020 683 357 9