He had illegitimate children. Not that he was a sensual man. His union with the woman of his choice would seem to lack nothing but regularity. He did not consort with women promiscuously; there was only one woman. As he had decided to use the Church as his ladder to fame, he was denied marriage; therefore he dispensed with the marriage ceremony; but, being a normal man, he did not intend to dispense with all that marriage would have brought him. So he had settled into a quiet and steady relationship which, but for the facts that there had been no ceremony and he was a priest, would not have seemed different from the marriage of Thomas More himself.
He loved his children, but his love took a different form from that of Thomas; and yet Thomas saw that in some ways it was similar. Thomas wished to give his children that which he most treasured; Wolsey wished to shower on his children what he most treasured in the world—power and riches. His son, who was still a boy, was already Dean of Wells and Archbishop of York and Richmond, and thus the possessor of much wealth and power in his own right.
Not a bad man, but a man who worshipped, according to Thomas, false gods. But as Thomas told himself this he knew that Wolsey would say of him: A clever fellow, but a fool in some ways, for he seems to have no idea how to advance his fortune.
Now Wolsey talked of state affairs and how it would be a simple matter to get the King's approbation of his plans. The King was immersed in a new love affair—a saucy girl had taken his attention and made big demands upon it.
“The daughter of Thomas Boleyn. Doubtless you know him. Well, Master Boleyn will enjoy some favor, I doubt not, when his pretty daughter Mary whispers her requests into the King's ear. He found the girl when we went to France last year. She has pleased him ever since. We shall see the brother's advancement too. George Boleyn is a bright boy. It must be his Norfolk blood—at least, I doubt not Norfolk would tell us so. I believe there is a younger girl… in France just now. We much watch this family, for a man like Thomas Boleyn will give himself airs if favored too highly. If little Mary becomes too demanding we shall have to find another lady for His Grace. Ah, Master More, you like not this talk. You would have the King's household like your own in Bucklersbury. But there are few families like yours in the kingdom. That is why I must take such pains to enlighten you.”
This sign of the Cardinal's favor would have delighted most men; it made Thomas uneasy; it meant that he was in danger of being more closely entangled in that from which he longed to escape.
He was disappointed in the young King. Henry seemed bent on pleasure, and much of that treasure which had been left by his father had already been squandered—not only on war, but on futile displays like this last one of the Field of the Cloth of Gold.
What useful purpose had been served? It was known now that England could squander wealth to glorify the King and his Court; and that France could do the same for its gay young King. But what of that? Both these monarchs were developing into lechers whose minds could be continuously occupied with devising new sensations in amorous adventurings, rather than in studying a wise state policy.
England had Wolsey; and all Englishmen should be glad of that, because with all his pride, with all his ambition and his love of pomp, Wolsey was a great statesman.
Yet how he was hated by some! It was largely due to Wolsey's carelessly expressed hatred of the Duke of Buckingham that Thomas became aware of new and terrible elements about him.
It was Buckingham's duty at this time to hold the gold bowl in which the King washed his hands; and on one occasion— doubtless to avenge a slight which either Buckingham had given Wolsey, or Wolsey imagined he had, and to show his intimacy with the King—when Henry had washed his hands, Wolsey dipped his own into the bowl and proceeded to wash them.
This was more than the noble Duke could endure, for he could never forget that royal blood ran in his veins and that he was related to Edward the Fourth. That he should be expected to hold the bowl while the son of an Ipswich merchant washed his hands was intolerable. He immediately threw the water over Wolsey's feet.
The King might be amused at this incident and Wolsey might appear to take it lightly, but Buckingham had offended that great pride of the Cardinal's, and no man could do that with impunity.
Now Thomas witnessed the beginning of that terrible feud which could only end in tragedy.
Buckingham had forgotten two things when he made an enemy of the Cardinal. He was in a dangerous position, for his royal blood was something Henry had never liked; he also possessed great wealth, which Henry liked very much. He was one of the richest peers in England.
It was therefore a simple matter for the Cardinal to murmur a few well-chosen words into the royal ear. The King could be reminded that were Buckingham executed on a capital charge, his wealth would become the property of the King; moreover, Buckingham had boasted of his royal blood, and it was not difficult to find someone who had heard the haughty Duke's statement that if the King died without heirs he, Buckingham, would be very near the throne.
The Duke was summoned by the King, and came to Court thinking that he was to be asked to take part in some jousting or jollity. He found himself in the Tower, tried by his peers—none of whom dared find him anything but guilty, since this was the will of the King. Old Norfolk, his friend, must find him guilty, though he shed tears as he did so.
The murder of the Duke shocked England and the Continent as well as Thomas More. It showed what manner of King was this fair-faced boy on whom the marks of lechery and good living had not yet appeared. The handsome boy was exposed as a cruel boy; bluff King Hal had set out on his career of royal murder, to which the deaths of Empson and Dudley were but a prelude.
Thomas now longed more than ever for the solitude of his home, for converse with his friends. Erasmus had written to him: “So you have deserted the scholars for the sake of the Court. Our learned philosopher has become a courtier.”
“Yes,” muttered Thomas; “but most reluctantly.”
There had been a time when it had been said among scholars that the three most learned men in the world were Erasmus of the Netherlands, More of England and Budé of France; but now Mores name was no longer mentioned in this connection. A young Spaniard, Vives, had taken his place.
Yet those in the King's Court knew nothing of that lost eminence which had meant so much to Thomas. They saw him about the Court, and they knew him as a man destined for greatness.
“Thomas More is rising in the world,” they said.
He could not tell them that he did not wish to rise in the world, but to continue to shine in his own.
Meanwhile Martin Luther had published his book, which he called Babylonish Captivity of the Church. The Pope was up in arms and Europe was divided. The Cardinal had another secret conversation with Thomas More.
“His Grace has been expressing much interest in you of late, Master More.”
“Indeed? And for what reason?”
“There are two people in the world whom he hates, fears and envies, while he most jealously observes them. Doubtless you know to whom I refer?”
“The rulers across the water?”
“You are right. The mighty Emperor Charles, who rules other lands besides his native Spain, is one. And perhaps, more than the King hates Charles, he hates the King of France. They know each other well; they are of an age; they are both seekers after pleasure and sensation. Charles and Francis are servants of the Pope. Charles is the Most Catholic King; and Francis is the Most Christian King. Our King has no title to set beside those two, and that grieves him. He feels that this is a matter on which you, more than any other man, can help him.”