Showing the Vacillations
of the King between Wolsey and Anne
Boleyn.
Before returning to the state apartments,
Henry took a turn on the ramparts on the north side
of the castle, between the Curfew Tower and the Winchester
Tower, and lingered for a short time on the bastion
commanding that part of the acclivity where the approach,
called the Hundred Steps, is now contrived. Here
he cautioned the sentinels to be doubly vigilant throughout
the night, and having gazed for a moment at the placid
stream flowing at the foot of the castle, and tinged
with the last rays of the setting sun, he proceeded
to the royal lodgings, and entered the banquet chamber,
where supper was already served.
Wolsey sat on his right hand, but
he did not vouchsafe him a single word, addressing
the whole of his discourse to the Duke of Suffolk,
who was placed on his left. As soon as the repast
was over, he retired to his closet. But the cardinal
would not be so repulsed, and sent one of his gentlemen
to crave a moment’s audience of the king, which
with some reluctance was accorded.
“Well, cardinal,” cried
Henry, as Wolsey presented himself, and the usher
withdrew. “You are playing a deep game with
me, as you think; but take heed, for I see through
it.” “I pray you dismiss these suspicions
from your mind, my liege,” said Wolsey.
“No servant was ever more faithful to his master
than I have been to you.”
“No servant ever took better
care of himself,” cried the king fiercely.
“Not alone have you wronged me to enrich yourself,
but you are ever intriguing with my enemies.
I have nourished in my breast a viper; but I will
cast you off will crush you as I would the
noxious reptile.”
And he stamped upon the floor, as
if he could have trampled the cardinal beneath his
foot.
“Beseech you calm yourself,
my liege,” replied Wolsey, in the soft and deprecatory
tone which he had seldom known to fail with the king.
“I have never thought of my own aggrandisement,
but as it was likely to advance your power. For
the countless benefits I have received at your hands,
my soul overflows with gratitude. You have raised
me from the meanest condition to the highest.
You have made me your confidant, your adviser, your
treasurer, and with no improper boldness I say it,
your friend. But I defy the enemies who have
poisoned your ears against me, to prove that I have
ever abused the trust placed in me. The sole fault
that can be imputed to me is, that I have meddled more
with temporal matters than with spiritual, and it
is a crime for which I must answer before Heaven.
But I have so acted because I felt that I might thereby
best serve your highness. If I have aspired to
the papal throne which you well know I
have it has been that I might be yet a more
powerful friend to your majesty, and render you what
you are entitled to be, the first prince in Christendom.”
“Tut, tut!” exclaimed
the king, who was, nevertheless, moved by the artful
appeal.
“The gifts I have received from
foreign princes,” pursued Wolsey, seeing the
effect he had produced, “the wealth I have amassed,
have all been with a view of benefiting your majesty.”
“Humph!” exclaimed the king.
“To prove that I speak the truth,
sire,” continued the wily cardinal, “the
palace at Hampton Court, which I have just completed ”
“And at a cost more lavish than
I myself should have expended on it,” interrupted
the king angrily.
“If I had destined it for myself,
I should not have spent a tithe of what I have done,”
rejoined Wolsey. “Your highness’s
unjust accusations force me to declare my intentions
somewhat prematurely. Deign,” he cried,
throwing at the king’s feet, “deign to
accept that palace and all within it. You were
pleased, during your late residence there, to express
your approval of it. And I trust it will find
equal favour in your eyes, now that it is your own.”
“By holy Mary, a royal gift!”
cried Henry. “Rise, You are not the grasping,
selfish person you have been represented.”
“Declare as much to my enemies,
sire, and I shall be more content. You will find
the palace better worth acceptance than at first sight
might appear.”
“How so?” cried the king.
“Your highness will be pleased
to take this key,” said the cardinal; “it
is the key of the cellar.”
“You have some choice wine there,”
cried Henry significantly; “given you by some
religious house, or sent you by some foreign potentate,
ha!”
“It is wine that a king might
prize,” replied the cardinal. “Your
majesty will find a hundred hogsheads in that cellar,
and each hogshead filled with gold.”
“You amaze me!” cried
the king, feigning astonishment. “And all
this you freely give me?”
“Freely and fully, sire,”
replied Wolsey. “Nay, I have saved it for
you. Men think I have cared for myself, whereas
I have cared only for your majesty. Oh! my dear
liege, by the devotion I have just approved to you,
and which I would also approve, if needful, with my
life, I beseech you to consider well before you raise
Anne Boleyn to the throne. In giving you this
counsel, I know I hazard the favour I have just regained.
But even at that hazard, I must offer it. Your
infatuation blinds you to the terrible consequences
of the step. The union is odious to all your
subjects, but most of all to those not tainted with
the new hérésies and opinions. It will never
be forgiven by the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who
will seek to avenge the indignity offered to his illustrious
relative; while Francis will gladly make it a pretext
for breaking his truce with you. Add to this
the displeasure of the Apostolic See, and it must
be apparent that, powerful as you are, your position
will be one of infinite peril.”
“Thus far advanced, I cannot
honourably abandon the divorce,” said Henry.
“Nor do I advise its abandonment,
sire,” replied Wolsey; “but do not let
it be a means of injuring you with all men. Do
not let a mal-alliance place your very throne in jeopardy;
as, with your own subjects and all foreign powers
against you, must necessarily be the case.”
“You speak warmly, cardinal,” said Henry.
“My zeal prompts me to do so,”
replied Wolsey. “Anne Boleyn is in no respect
worthy of the honour you propose her.”
“And whom do you think more worthy?” demanded
Henry.
“Those whom I have already recommended
to your majesty, the Duchess d’Alençon, or the
Princess Renee,” replied Wolsey; “by a
union with either of whom you would secure the cordial
co-operation of Francis, and the interests of the
see of Rome, which, in the event of a war with Spain,
you may need.”
“No, Wolsey,” replied
Henry, taking a hasty turn across the chamber; “no
considerations of interests or security shall induce
me to give up Anne. I love her too well for that.
Let the lion Charles roar, the fox Francis snarl,
and the hydra-headed Clement launch forth his flames,
I will remain firm to my purpose. I will not
play the hypocrite with you, whatever I may do with
others. I cast off Catherine that I may wed Anne,
because I cannot otherwise obtain her. And shall
I now, when I have dared so much, and when the prize
is within my grasp, abandon it? Never!
Threats, expostulations, entreaties are alike unavailing.”
“I grieve to hear it, my liege,”
replied Wolsey, heaving a deep sigh. “It
is an ill-omened union, and will bring woe to you,
woe to your realm, and woe to the Catholic Church.”
“And woe to you also, false
cardinal,” cried Anne Boleyn, throwing aside
the arras, and stepping forward. “I have
overheard what has passed; and from my heart of hearts
I thank you, Henry, for the love you have displayed
for me. But I here solemnly vow never to give
my hand to you till Wolsey is dismissed from your
counsels.”
“Anne!” exclaimed the king.
“My own enmity I could forego,”
pursued Anne vehemently, “but I cannot forgive
him his duplicity and perfidy towards you. He
has just proffered you his splendid palace of Hampton,
and his treasures; and wherefore? I will
tell you: because he feared they would be wrested
from him. His jester had acquainted him with
the discovery just made of the secret hoard, and he
was therefore compelled to have recourse to this desperate
move. But I was apprized of his intentions by
Will Sommers, and have come in time to foil him.”
“By my faith, I believe you
are right, sweetheart,” said the king.
“Go, tell your allies, Francis
and Clement, that the king’s love for me outweighs
his fear of them,” cried Anne, laughing spitefully.
“As for you, I regard you as nothing.”
“Vain woman, your pride will
be abased,” rejoined Wolsey bitterly.
“Vain man, you are already abased,”
replied Anne. “A few weeks ago I would
have made terms with you. Now I am your mortal
enemy, and will never rest till I have procured your
downfall.”
“The king will have an amiable
consort, truly,” sneered Wolsey.
“He will have one who can love
him and hate his foes,” replied Anne; “and
not one who would side with them and thee, as would
be the case with the Duchess d’Alençon or the
Princess Renee. Henry, you know the sole terms
on which you can procure my hand.”
The king nodded a playful affirmative.
“Then dismiss him at once, disgrace him,”
said Anne.
“Nay, nay,” replied Henry,
“the divorce is not yet passed. You are
angered now, and will view matters more coolly to-morrow.”
“I shall never change my resolution,”
she replied.
“If my dismissal and disgrace
can save my sovereign, I pray him to sacrifice me
without hesitation,” said Wolsey; “but
while I have liberty of speech with him, and aught
of power remaining, I will use it to his advantage.
I pray your majesty suffer me to retire.”
And receiving a sign of acquiescence
from the king, he withdrew, amid the triumphant laughter
of Anne.