There is no occasion to repeat the well-known tale of the fall of Wolsey. He resigned the seals on the 18th of October; his property was seized and examined into. The Venetian Ambassador reported that his ordinary income was found to have been 150,000 crowns, besides pensions, gifts from foreign princes, and irregular contributions from home. His personal effects were worth half a million more. He said that it had been all gathered for the King; if the King was pleased to take it before his end, the King was welcome to it.
The King was thenceforward his own first minister; the Duke of Norfolk became President of the Council; Suffolk was Vice-President, and Sir Thomas More Lord Chancellor. But the King intended to rule with Parliament to advise and to help him. Catherine told Chapuys, in fear for herself, that the elections to the Lower House had been influenced to her own injury. She was mistaken, for the elections had not turned on the divorce. The object of the meeting of the Legislature was to reform the clergy, and upon this all parties among the laity were agreed. It may be (though the Queen could not know it) that exertions were made to counteract or control the local influences of individual nobles or prelates. If the object was to secure a real representation of popular feeling, it was right and necessary to protect the electors against the power of particular persons. But it is at least clear that this Parliament came up charged with the grievances of which Darcy’s indictment was the epitome.
The Houses met on the 3rd of November, and went at once to business. I can add nothing to what I have written elsewhere on the acts of the first session. Wolsey was impeached; the Peers would have attainted him or sent him to trial for high treason; the Commons were more moderate, listening to Cromwell, who faced unpopularity by defending gallantly his old patron. But the King himself did not wish the fallen Cardinal to be pressed too hard; and it was said that, determined to protect him, he forbade the attainder. He had determined to pardon him, and an attainder would have made pardon more difficult. Very interesting accounts of Wolsey’s own behaviour in his calamity are found in the letters of the foreign Ambassadors. Du Bellay saw him on the 17th of October, the day before he surrendered the Great Seal, and found him entirely broken. He wept; he “hoped the French King and Madam would have pity on him.” His face had lost its fire; “he did not desire legateship, seal of office, or power; he was ready to give up everything, to his shirt, and live in a hermitage, if the King would not keep him in his displeasure.” He wished Francis to write to Henry in his favour. He had been the chief instrument of the present amity with France; and such a service ought not to have given a bad impression of him. Suspicions were abroad that he had received large presents from the French Court; they were probably true, for he said “he hoped Madam would not do him an injury if it were spoken of.”[90]
Nothing could be more piteous. The poor old man was like a hunted animal; lately lord of the world, and now “none so poor to do him reverence.” Darcy had raised the question of the Præmunire. The ancient Statute of Provisors had forbidden the introduction of Bulls from Rome, and the statute was awake again. He was made to confess that the penalties of Præmunire—confiscation of goods and imprisonment—had been incurred by him when he published the Bull which made him Legate, and by the use of which he had unlawfully vexed the greater number of the prelates of the realm, and the King’s other subjects.
His brother Legate, Campeggio, had remained for some weeks in London after the dissolution of the court. But England was no place for him in the hurly-burly which had broken loose. He went, and had to submit to the indignity of having his luggage searched at Dover. The cause alleged was a fear that he might be taking with him some of Wolsey’s jewels. Tradition said that he had obtained possession of the letters of the King to Anne Boleyn, and that it was through him that they reached the Vatican. At any rate, the locks were forced, the trunks inspected, and nothing of importance was found in them.[91] Campeggio complained to the King of the violation of his privilege as ambassador. Henry told him ironically that he had suffered no wrong: his legateship was gone when the cause was revoked; he had no other commission: he was an English bishop, and so far, therefore, an English subject. But a courteous apology was made for the unnecessary violence which had been used;[92] Campeggio’s ruffled plumes were smoothed, and he wrote to Salviati from Paris with the latest news of Wolsey, telling him “that the King would not go to extremes, but would act considerately in the matter, as he was accustomed to do in all his actions.”[93]
Although no mention was made in Parliament of the divorce, the subject, of course, could not sleep. The question of the succession to the crown having been made so prominent, it would, and must, sooner or later, come before the Legislature to be settled, and had already become a topic of general consideration and anxiety. Mary’s legitimacy had been impugned. Falieri, writing from London and reporting what he heard in society, said that “by English law females were excluded from the throne.” Custom might say so, for no female had, in fact, ever sat on the throne; but enacted law or rule there was none: it was only one uncertainty the more. At any rate, Falieri said that the King had determined to go on with the divorce, that he might have a legitimate male heir.
Henry’s experience of Clement had taught him that he need not fear any further immediate steps. The advocation of the cause implied of itself a desire for longer delay, and, with more patience than might have been looked for in such a disappointment, he had resolved to wait for what the Pope would do. That an English sovereign should plead before the Rota at Rome was, of course, preposterous. The suggestion of it was an insult. But other means might be found. He had himself proposed Cambray as a neutral spot for a first commission; he really believed that the Pope was at heart on his side, and therefore did not wish to quarrel with him. When Campeggio was leaving England the King wrote to Clement more politely than might have been expected. He did not insist that the English commission should be renewed.
“We could have wished,” he said, “not less for your sake than our own, that all things had been so expedited as corresponded to our expectation, not rashly conceived, but according to your promises. As it is, we have to regard with grief and wonder the incredible confusion which has arisen. If a Pope can relax Divine laws at his pleasure, surely he has as much power over human laws. We have been so often deceived by your Holiness’s promises that no dependence can be placed on them. Our dignity has not been consulted in the treatment which we have met with. If your Holiness will keep the cause now advoked to Rome in your own hands, until it can be decided by impartial judges, and in an indifferent place, in a manner satisfactory to our scruples, we will forget what is past, and repay kindness by kindness.”[94]
As the Pope had professed to be ignorant of the extent of his dispensing power, the King proposed to submit this part of the question to the canon lawyers of Europe. The Nuncios, meanwhile, in Paris and London advised that the Pope and the Emperor should write in a friendly way to the King. Charles was believed in England to have said “that the King should stick to his wife in spite of his beard.” He had not used such words, and ought to disclaim them, but he might endeavour to persuade the King to let the divorce drop.
The Parliament meanwhile had been fiercely busy in cutting down the Church courts—abolishing or limiting the various forms of extortion by which the laity had been plundered. The clergy were required to reside upon their benefices. “Pluralities” were restricted. The business of the session had been a series of Clergy Discipline Acts. The Bishop of Rochester especially clamoured over the “want of faith” which such Acts exhibited, but nothing had been done of which the Pope could complain, nothing of which, perhaps, he did not secretly approve. Catherine, through her agents at Rome, demanded instant sentence in her cause. The Pope’s inclination seemed again on Henry’s side. He described an interview with the Emperor, who had urged Catherine’s case. He professed to have replied that he must be cautious when the case was not clear. Many things, he said, made for the King. All the divines were against the power of the Pope to dispense. Of the canon lawyers, some were against it; and those who were not against it considered that the dispensing powers could only be used for a very urgent cause, as, to prevent the ruin of a kingdom. The Pope’s function was to judge whether such a cause had arisen; but no such inquiry was made when the dispensation of Julius was granted. The Emperor must not be surprised if he could do no more for the Queen.[95]