“You speak most affectingly of him, Sir Henry,” I said.
“It was a scene never to be forgotten. The Fool would not go and Wolsey called several yeomen to drag him away. I felt I was taking away a man in chains. And I said farewell to Wolsey and he went on to Esher.”
“Where I believe he found no warm welcome waiting for him.”
“A cold house without furniture…or plate or goblets. Poor Wolsey! How are the mighty fallen!”
And, I thought, so must he remain.
That Christmas the Cardinal was very ill.
I remember the news being brought to Henry when I was with him. Norris told him and I saw the concern in the King's face. Perhaps he felt a twinge of that conscience which was ever ready to be aroused—though usually at his bidding. However, this was a genuine twinge.
“How sick is he, Norris?” he asked.
“They say sick unto death.”
“I will send Dr. Butts to him without delay.”
This he did, and when Dr. Butts returned, he summoned him and wanted to know how the Cardinal fared.
“Tell me,” he said, “have you seen yonder man?”
“I have, Your Grace.”
“And how do you like him?”
“Your Grace, if you will have him dead, I warrant you that he will be dead in four days if he does not receive comfort from you.”
“Marry, God forbid that he should die,” cried Henry. “I would not lose him for £20,000.”
“Then must Your Grace send him some comforting message.”
“That I will do by you, good Butts.” He took a ring from his finger. “He will know this ring,” he went on, “for he gave it to me. Tell him that I am not offended with him in my heart for anything and bid him be of good cheer.”
“That will I do, Your Grace, and great good will it do him.” Dr. Butts looked at me significantly. Wolsey had probably told him that I was his enemy and that it was due to me that he had been brought low.
Henry intercepted the glance and understood it. “Good sweetheart,” he said, “As you love me, send the Cardinal a token at my request, and so doing you shall deserve our thanks.”
There was nothing I could do but obey when the King was in such a mood, so I unlinked a gold tablet which I wore at my waist and gave it to Dr. Butts and asked him to convey my wishes to the Cardinal for a speedy recovery.
The King's eyes were glistening with sentiment. He took my hand and kissed it.
And Dr. Butts went back to Wolsey with the tokens.
They were evidently effective, for within a few days Wolsey had left his bed.
I could see no way out of the maze in which we were caught up. Things grew worse instead of better.
Clement and the Emperor were now on good terms. Peace had been reached; the Pope was back in Rome; and Charles had received the crown of the Holy Roman Empire which was a symbol of unity between the Church and the States of Europe.
It was clear to me that we were never going to get papal approval for the divorce.
Then came a glimmer of hope from an unexpected quarter.
Henry's two chief agents who had been working assiduously for a settlement—his secretary Gardiner and his almoner Fox—happened to be staying at the house of a certain Mr. Cressy at Waltham Abbey. Mr. Cressy had two sons, both scholars who had been at the university with a certain Thomas Cranmer, and this Cranmer happened to be staying at the Cressys’ house, on a visit to his friends.
Cranmer was a man of about forty. We learned that he was a brilliant scholar who had taken degrees of B.A. and M.A. with great distinction and had become a fellow of Jesus College. He married, and this could have called a halt to his career at the college, but so that this should not be unduly interrupted, he sent his wife to live at an inn in Cambridge which was run by a relative of hers. There he used to go to see her until, about a year after the marriage, she died in childbirth. He was then re-elected to a fellowship. So, unencumbered, his career progressed and he was at this time one of the university's public examiners in Theology. It was only to be expected that, on the arrival of Gardiner and Fox, there should be a great deal of lively conversation, and the topic which was uppermost in the minds of most people at this time was the divorce.
Few men knew as much about this intricate matter as Gardiner and Fox, and Cranmer listened intently to what they had to say.
“There will be a very long delay if the King pursues this matter through the courts of Rome,” said Cranmer.
I could imagine the scene. The two men who had traveled extensively and talked endlessly in this search for a solution, to be confronted by a fellow who could not know very much about the affair.
“What the King needs,” went on Cranmer, “is sufficient assurance that his marriage is invalid—notwithstanding the dispensation. He then might take the responsibility of marrying again at once. He ought therefore to take the opinions of the divines of the universities and act accordingly.”
The two agents looked at him incredulously.
“To act against the Emperor!”
“As I see it,” said Cranmer, “the King does not need Rome. He just needs the assurance of the divines that his marriage is invalid.”
“You take a simple view of a complicated matter,” said Fox.
“The solution to most matters is found to be simple when one knows what it is,” replied Cranmer with a smile.
Then the matter was apparently dropped, but both Gardiner and Fox pondered what Cranmer had said and when they were next in the company of the King they mentioned it to him.
I was present at the time, so I saw what effect those words had on the King.
He was quiet for a second or two; then he crashed his fist down on the table. “By God,” he cried, “that man hath the right sow by the ear!” He turned to Fox and Gardiner. “Where is he? Bring him to me. I would see him without delay.”
Within hours Thomas Cranmer was at Greenwich.
The King talked for a long time with him and his mood changed. He saw hope through Thomas Cranmer.
Cranmer was made much of and taken into my father's household, where he was given a very comfortable apartment. He was to write a treatise on the matter and then to return to Cambridge to give a lecture in which he would persuade the learned divines to give their vote in the King's favor.
There followed months of preparations. It was necessary that the divines, not only in England but in the whole of Europe, should give the right answer. This involved a great deal of money for the expenses of journeys and also for bribes and promises of favors to come.
All through those months Henry labored. He was sure that we were working in the right direction now. If he could get the approval of the divines, he would dispense with that of the Pope.
Finally he had all the information he needed. He summoned the clergy and the nobles; he wanted their seal on the document he was sending to the Pope. It was amazing that some of them had the courage to refuse. There was Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More among the leaders of the opposition. If the King married without the approval of the Pope, they pointed out, the succession would be in danger.
If they did not agree, thundered Henry, he would find some other form of redress.