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 God 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 noble 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 ship of State were already scenting their prey. As the King turned his back on Wolsey, Wolsey turned his face to God. 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.
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 space 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—noble 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 God’s service right honourably with such singing men as he then had remaining with him.