Part 3 (1/2)

Henry and Wolsey were two giants littered in one day. Wolsey had realised his possibilities of power before Henry. But when Henry once learned how easy it was for him to get his own way, Wolsey learned how dependent he necessarily was on the King's good will. And then, ”the nation which had trembled before Wolsey, learned to tremble before the King who could destroy Wolsey with a breath.”

Had Wolsey been able to fulfil his own ideals, had he been the head of a Republic and not the servant of a King, his public record would no doubt have been on a higher ethical plane. That he himself realised this is shown by his pathetic words to Sir William Kingston, which have been but slightly paraphrased by Shakespeare: ”Well, well, Master Kingston, I see how the matter against me is framed, but if I had served my G.o.d as diligently as I have done the King, He would not have given me over in my grey hairs.” In this frankness we recognise once again a flicker of greatness--one might almost say a touch of divine humour.

The lives of great men compose themselves dramatically; Wolsey's end was indeed a fit theme for the dramatist.

_His Fall_

In his later years, Wolsey began to totter on his throne. The King had become more and more masterful. It was impossible for two such stormy men to act permanently in concord. In 1528, Wolsey said that as soon as he had accomplished his ambition of reconciling England and France, and reforming the English laws and settling the succession, ”he would retire and serve G.o.d for the rest of his days.” In 1529 he lost his hold over Parliament and over Henry. The Great Seal was taken from him.

The end of Wolsey was indeed appalling in its sordid tragedy. The woman had prevailed--Anne's revenge was sufficiently complete to satisfy even a woman scorned. The King, too, was probably more inclined to lend a willing ear to her whisperings, since he had grown jealous of his minister's greatness. He paid to his superior the tribute of hatred. Henry, who had treated the Cardinal as his friend and ”walked with him in the garden arm in arm and sometimes with his arm thrown caressingly round his shoulder,”

now felt very differently towards his one-time favourite.

Covetous of Wolsey's splendour, he asked him why he, a subject, should have so magnificent an abode as Hampton Court, whereupon Wolsey diplomatically answered (feeling perhaps the twitch of a phantom rope around his neck), ”To show how n.o.ble a palace a subject may offer to his sovereign.” The King was not slow to accept this offer, and thenceforth made Hampton Court Palace his own.

Wolsey, too, was failing in body--the sharks that follow the s.h.i.+p of State were already scenting their prey. As the King turned his back on Wolsey, Wolsey turned his face to G.o.d. Accused of high treason for having acted as Legate, Wolsey pleaded guilty of the offence, committed with the approval of the King. He was deprived of his worldly goods, and retired to his house at Esher.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CARDINAL WOLSEY

From the Portrait by Holbein, at Christ Church, Oxford]

_Wolsey an Exile from Court_

Cavendish says: ”My Lord and his family continued there the s.p.a.ce of three or four weeks without beds, sheets, tablecloths, cups and dishes to eat our meat, or to lie in.” He was forced to borrow the bare necessaries of life. The mighty had fallen indeed! This was in the year 1529. In his disgrace, he was without friends. The Pope ignored him. But Queen Katharine--n.o.ble in a kindred sorrow--sent words of sympathy. Death was approaching, and Wolsey prepared himself for the great event by fasting and prayer. Ordered to York, he arrived at Peterborough in Easter Week.

There it is said: ”Upon Palm Sunday, he went in procession with the monks, bearing his palm; setting forth G.o.d's service right honourably with such singing men as he then had remaining with him.

_He Washes the Feet of the Poor_

And upon Maundy Thursday he made his Maundy in Our Lady's Chapel, having fifty-nine poor men, whose feet he washed, wiped and kissed; each of these poor men had twelve pence in money, three ells of canvas to make them s.h.i.+rts, a pair of new shoes, a cast of mead, three red herrings, and three white herrings, and the odd person had two s.h.i.+llings. Upon Easter Day he rode to the Resurrection,[5] and that morning he went in procession in his Cardinal's vesture, with his hat and hood on his head, and he himself sang there the High Ma.s.s very devoutly, and granted Clean Remission to all the hearers, and there continued all the holidays.”

Arrived at York, he indulged with a difference in his old love of hospitality; ”he kept a n.o.ble house and plenty of both meat and drink for all comers, both for rich and poor, and much alms given at his gates. He used much charity and pity among his poor tenants and others.” This caused him to be beloved in the country. Those that hated him owing to his repute learned to love him--he went among the people and brought them food and comforted them in their troubles. Now he was loved among the poor as he had been feared among the great.

_Condemned to the Tower_

On the 4th November, he was arrested on a new charge of high treason and condemned to the Tower. He left under custody amid the lamentations of the poor people, who in their thousands crowded round him, crying: ”G.o.d save your Grace! G.o.d save your Grace! The foul evil take all them that hath thus taken you from us! We pray G.o.d that a very vengeance may light upon them.” He remained at Sheffield Park, the Earl of Shrewsbury's seat, for eighteen days. Here his health broke down. There arrived, with twenty-four of the Guard from London, Sir William Kingston with order to conduct him to the Tower. The next day, in spite of increasing illness, he set out, but he could hardly ride his mule.

_His End_

Reaching the Abbey at Leicester on the 26th of November, and being received by the Benedictine monks, he said: ”Father Abbot, I am come hither to leave my bones among you.” Here he took to his last bed, and made ready to meet his G.o.d.

The following morning, the 29th of November, he who had trod the ways of glory and sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, he who had shaped the destinies of Empires, before whom Popes and Parliaments had trembled, he who had swathed himself in the purple of kingdom, of power and of glory, learned the littleness of greatness and entered the Republic of Death in a hair-s.h.i.+rt.