Henry VIII. was now at Whitehall; and in consequence of the state of his health he very seldom left his private apartments. But few of his councillors, and these only by special order, were allowed to see him. Gardiner and Wriothesley alone came to the palace more frequently than usual to confer with him on the mission which he had entrusted to them. Taking with them their hateful indictment, they went to the palace, were admitted to the king's presence, and after a suitable introduction they laid before him the fatal document, requesting him to sign it. Henry read it, and took careful note of its contents; then asked for writing materials, and notwithstanding his feebleness he signed it. This was a great victory for the bishop, the chancellor and the Catholic party; and it was a great defeat for the Reformation, apparently the signal for its ruin. Nothing was now wanting but a writ of arrest, and the chancellor of England would send the queen to the Tower. Once there, her situation would be hopeless.
So cleverly had the plot been managed, that during the whole time the queen had neither known nor suspected any thing; she paid her usual visits to the king, and had gradually allowed herself to speak to him on religion as she used to do. The king permitted this without gainsaying her; he did not choose to enter into explanations with her. He was, however, ill at ease. The burden was oppressive; and one evening, just after the queen left him, he opened his mind to one of his physicians, in whom he placed full confidence, and said: 'I do not like the queen's religion, and I do not intend to be much longer worried by the discourses of this doctoress.' He likewise revealed to the physician the project formed by some of his councillors, but forbade him, upon pain of death, to say a word about it to any living soul. Apparently forgetting the wives whom he had already sacrificed, Henry was thus coolly preparing, at the very time when he was himself about to go down to the grave, to add another victim to the hecatomb.
BILL OF INDICTMENT.
The queen, although encompassed with deadly enemies who were contriving her ruin, was in a state of perfect calmness, when suddenly there burst upon her one of those heavy squalls which in the twinkling of an eye dash the most powerful vessels against the rocks. The chancellor, contented with his triumph, but at the same time agitated, snatched up the paper which, now bearing the king's signature, ensured the death of the queen. Vehement passions sometimes distract men and produce absence of mind. In this case it appears that Wriothesley carelessly thrust the paper into his bosom, and dropped it while crossing one of the apartments of the palace.[457] A pious woman of the court, happening to pass that way shortly afterwards, saw the paper and picked it up. Perceiving at the first glance its importance she took it immediately to the queen. Catherine opened it, read the articles with fear and trembling, and as soon as she saw Henry's signature, was struck as by a thunderbolt, and fell into a frightful agony. Her features were completely changed: she uttered loud cries, and seemed to be in her death-struggle. She too, then, was to lay down her life on the scaffold. All her attentions, all her devotion to the king, had availed nothing; she must undergo the common lot of the wives of Henry VIII. She bewailed her fate, and struggled against it. At other times she had glimpses of her own faults and uttered reproaches against herself, and then her distress and her lamentations increased. Those of her ladies who were present could hardly bear the sight of so woful a state; and, trembling themselves, and supposing that the queen was about to be put to death, they were unable to offer her consolation. The remembrance of this harrowing scene was never effaced from their minds.[458]
Some one brought word to the king that the queen was in terrible distress, and that her life seemed to be in danger.[459] A feeling of compassion was awakened in him, and he sent to her immediately the physicians who were with him. They, finding Catherine in this extremity, endeavored to bring her to herself, and gradually she recovered her senses. The physician to whom Henry had revealed Gardiner's project,[460] discovering from some words uttered by the queen that the conspiracy was the cause of her anxiety, requested leave to speak to her in private. He told her that he was risking his life by thus speaking to her, but that his conscience would not allow him to take part in the shedding of innocent blood. He therefore confirmed the foreboding of danger which was impending over her; but added that if she henceforward endeavored to behave with humble submission to his majesty, she would regain, he did not doubt, his pardon and his favor.
DISTRESS OF THE QUEEN.
These words were not enough to deliver Catherine from her disquietude. Her danger was not concealed from the king; and, unable to endure the thought that she might die of grief, he had himself carried into her room. At the sight of the king Catherine rallied sufficiently to explain to him the despair into which she was thrown by the belief that he had totally abandoned her. Henry then spoke to her as an affectionate husband, and comforted her with gentle words; and this poor heart, till then agitated like a stormy sea, gradually became calm again.
The king could now forget the faults of the queen; but the queen herself did not forget them. She understood that she had habitually assumed a higher position than belonged to a wife, and that the king was entitled to an assurance that this state of things should be changed. After supper the next evening, therefore, Catherine rose and, taking with her only her sister, Lady Herbert on whom she leaned, and Lady Jane, who carried a light before her, went to the king's bed-chamber. When the three ladies were introduced, Henry was seated and speaking with several gentlemen who stood round him. He received the queen very courteously, and of his own accord, contrary to his usual practice, began to talk with her about religion, as if there was one point on which he wished for further information from the queen. She replied discreetly and as the circumstances required. She then added meekly and in a serious and respectful tone,—'Your Majesty doth right well know, neither I myself am ignorant, what great imperfection and weakness by our first creation is allotted unto us women, to be ordained and appointed as inferior and subject unto man as our head; from which head all our direction ought to proceed. And that as God made man in his own shape and likeness, whereby he being endued with more special gifts of perfection, might rather be stirred to the contemplation of heavenly things and to the earnest endeavor to obey his commandments, even so also made he woman of man, of whom and by whom she is to be governed, commanded and directed.... Your majesty being so excellent in gifts and ornaments of wisdom, and I a silly poor woman, so much inferior in all respects of nature unto you, how then cometh it now to pass that your majesty in such diffuse causes of religion will seem to require my judgment? Which when I have uttered and said what I can, yet must I, will I, refer my judgment ... to your majesty's wisdom, as my only anchor, supreme head and governor here in earth, next unto God, to lean unto.' 'Not so by St. Mary,' said the king; 'you are become a doctor, Kate, to instruct (as we take it), and not to be instructed or directed by us.' 'If your majesty take it so,' replied the queen, 'then hath your majesty very much mistaken me, who have been of the opinion, to think it very unseemly and preposterous for the woman to take upon her the office of an instructor or teacher to her lord and husband, but rather to learn of her husband and be taught by him. And whereas I have, with your majesty's leave, heretofore been bold to hold talk with your majesty, wherein sometimes in opinions there hath seemed some difference, I have not done it so much to maintain opinion, as I did it rather to minister talk, not only to the end your majesty might with less grief pass over this painful time of your infirmity,[461] being attentive to our talk, and hoping that your majesty should reap some ease thereby; but also that I, hearing your majesty's learned discourse, might receive to myself some profit thereby; wherein I assure your majesty, I have not missed any part of my desire in that behalf, always referring myself in all such matters unto your majesty, as by ordinance of nature it is convenient for me to do.' 'And is it even so?' answered the king; 'and tended your arguments to no worse end? Then perfect friends we are now again, as ever at any time heretofore.' Then, as if to seal this promise, Henry, who was sitting in his chair, embraced the queen and kissed her. He added: 'It does me more good at this time to hear the words of your mouth, than if I had heard present news of a hundred thousand pounds in money had fallen unto me.' Lavishing on Catherine tokens of his affection and his happiness, he promised her that such misapprehensions with regard to her should never arise again. Then, resuming general conversation, he talked on various interesting subjects with the queen and with the lords who were present, until the night was advanced; when he gave the signal for their departure. There may possibly have been somewhat of exaggeration in Catherine's words. She had not been altogether so submissive a learner as she said; but she felt the imperative necessity of entirely dispersing the clouds which the ill-will of her enemies had gathered over the king's mind, and it is not to be doubted that in saying what she did she uttered her inmost thought.
RECONCILIATION.
Meanwhile the queen's enemies, who had no suspicion of the turn things were taking, gave their orders and made their preparations for the great work of the morrow, which was to confine Catherine in the Tower. The day was fine, and the king wishing to take an airing went in the afternoon into the park, accompanied only by two of the gentlemen of his bed-chamber. He sent an invitation to the queen to bear him company; and Catherine immediately arrived, attended by her three favorite ladies in waiting. Conversation began, but they did not talk of theology. Never had the king appeared more amiable; and his good humor inspired the rest with cheerfulness. In his conversation there was all the liveliness of a frank communicative disposition, and the mirth, it seems, was even noisy.[462] Suddenly, forty halberds were seen gleaming through the park trees. The lord chancellor was at the head of the men, and forty bodyguards followed him. He was coming to arrest the queen and her three ladies and to conduct them to the Tower. The king, breaking off the conversation which entertained him so pleasantly, glanced sternly at the chancellor, and stepping a little aside called him to him. The chancellor knelt down and addressed to the king, in a low voice, some words which Catherine could not understand. She heard only that Henry replied to him in insulting terms, 'Fool, madman, arrant knave!' At the same time he commanded the chancellor to be gone. Wriothesley and his followers disappeared. Such was the end of the conspiracy formed against the king's Protestant wife by Wriothesley, Gardiner, and their friends. Henry then rejoined the queen. His features still reflected his excitement and anger; but as he approached her he tried to assume an air of serenity. She had not clearly understood what was the subject of conversation between the king and the chancellor; but the king's words had startled her. She received him gracefully and sought to excuse Wriothesley, saying: 'Albeit I know not what just cause your majesty has at this time to be offended with him, yet I think that ignorance, not will, was the cause of his error; and so I beseech your majesty (if the cause be not very heinous), at my humble suit to take it.' 'Ah, poor soul!' said the king, 'thou little knowest how evil he deserveth this grace at thy hands.'[463]