Among the other calumnies with which the memory of the unfortunate Queen Anne Boleyn has been aspersed by the enemies of the Reformation, it has been said "that she had long carried on a criminal intercourse with Sir Thomas Wyatt the poet; who, we are told, had gone so far as to confess to the king that he had debauched her; and had urged this, in the first instance, as an argument to dissuade the king from marrying her." The story requires no refutation; but Wyatt's name having been called in question when Anne Boleyn's conduct was scrutinized, gave the forgers of fabulous history an opportunity of engrafting their libellous inventions on slight circumstances, in order to give them something of the colour of probability. How far there was any foundation for these calumnies will now appear. The following interesting pages were written, it is presumed, by the grandson of the poet, George Wyatt, Esquire, sixth son and heir of Sir Thomas Wyatt the younger, who was beheaded for rebellion in the first year of the reign of Queen Mary. The writer died at the advanced age of eighty, at Boxley in Kent, in the year 1624, and seems to have meditated a complete exposure of such parts of Saunders' Book on the Reformation as came within his own immediate knowledge. He was maternal uncle to Sir Roger Twysden, and in 1623 communicated to him part of his collections. A fragment of the Life of Cardinal Wolsey, by George Cavendish, was in the late Mr. Bindley's library, to which we have already referred, at p. 57 of the present edition; prefixed to which was the following note by Sir Roger Twysden. "I receaved this from my uncle Wyatt, Anno 1623, who beeing yonge had gathered many notes towching this lady, not without an intent to have opposed Saunders." It is remarkable that this fragment from Wolsey's Life has been twice printed as a piece of original and authentic cotemporary history, without suspicion of its being an extract from Cavendish; the first time for private distribution, in 1808, and secondly by Dr. Nott, in his appendix to Wyatt's Poems, in 1816.

The manuscript from which the present very interesting memoir is printed, was purchased at the late Sir Peter Thompson's sale. It is in the hand writing of the Rev. John Lewis, of the Isle of Thanet, the celebrated antiquary. It was printed in 1817 for a few noblemen and gentlemen, but twenty-seven copies only having been taken off, may be considered still to have almost the rarity of a manuscript.

The peculiar means that I have had, more than others, to come to some more particular knowledge of such things as I intend to handle, ought to draw thus much from me; yet much more the request of him that hath been by authority set on work in this important business, both for the singular gifts of God in him, of wisdom, learning, integrity, and virtue; and also the encouragement I have had of late from the right reverend my Lord of Canterbury's grace, to set down what understanding I have had of this matter, is both my warrant, and a bond the more upon my conscience, to hold me urged and constrained not to neglect such an opportunity of my service to the church, my prince, and country. Principally his desire was, and my purpose in satis fying it, to deliver what I knew, touching certain things that happened to the excellent lady, the Lady Anne Boleigne, about the time of her first coming to the court. Yet, considering I had some other knowledge of things that might be found serviceable no less than that, and also might give light and life to the faithful narration of this whole matter, I have supposed it would fall best, to deliver the same, as it were, under the description of her whole life; and this the more particularly and frankly, that, all things known, those that I understood were to visit it again might take what they should think most material for their use. And would to God I could give that grace and felicity of style unto it that the worthiness of the subject doth require, notwithstanding that in this regard I am the less carefull, for that it is to pass through their hands that can give it better vesture; and I shall the more turn my care to intend the sincere and faithful delivery of that which I have received from those that both were most likely to come to the most perfect knowledge hereof, and had least cause or, otherwise for themselves, could least give just reason of suspicion to any, either of mind, or partiality, or wit, to fayne or misreport any whit hereof. And, indeed, chiefly the relation of those things that I shall set down is come from two. One a lady¹, that first attended on her both before and after she was queen, with whose house and mine there was then kindred and strict alliance. The other also a lady of noble birth, living in those times, and well acquainted with the persons that most this concerneth, from whom I am myself descended. A little, therefore, repeating the matter more high, I will derive the discourse hereof from the very spring and fountains, whence may appear most clearly by what occasion and degrees the stream of this whole cause hath grown to such an ocean as it were of memorable effects through all our parts of Christendom, not by chance or wits of men so much as even by the apparent work of God, as I hope presently to make plain to all men.

Note 1. Mrs. Anne Gainsford.

Amongst these, two were observed to be of principal mark. The one was Sir Thomas Wiat, the elder², the other was the king himself. The knight, in the beginning, coming to behold the sudden appearance of this new beauty, came to be holden and surprised somewhat with the sight thereof; after much more with her witty and graceful speech, his ear also had him chained unto her, so as finally his heart seemed to say, I could gladly yield to be tied for ever with the knot of her love, as somewhere in his verses hath been thought his meaning was to express³. She, on the other part, finding him to be then married, and in the knot to have been tied then ten years, rejected all his speech of love; but yet in such sort as whatsoever tended to regard of her honour, she showed not to scorn, for the general favour and good will she per ceived all men to bare him, which might the rather occasion others to turn their looks to that which a man of his worth was brought to gaze at in her, as, indeed, after it happened. The king is held to have taken his first apprehension of this love after such time as upon the doubt in those treaties of marriage with his daughter Mary, first with the Spaniard, then with the French: by some of the learned of his own land he had vehemently in their public sermons, and in his confessions to his ghostly fathers, been prayed to forsake that his incestuous life by accompanying with his brother's wife; and especially after he was moved by the cardinal, then in his greatest trust with the king, both for the better quietness of his conscience, and for more sure settling of the succession to more prosperous issue.

Note 2. See the Earl of Surrey's character of him, in an Elegy on his Death, among his poems.

Note 3. It is presumed that the allusion is here to Sir Thomas Wyatt's verses entitled "A description of such a one as he would love:"

A face that should content me wonderous well,

Should not be faire, but lovely to behold:

Of lively loke, all griefe for to repel With right good grace, so would I that it should

Speak, without words, such words as none can tell;

Her tresse also should be of cresped gold.

With wit and these perchance I might be tide

And knit againe the knot that should not slide.

Songes and Sonettes, 8vo. 1557, p. 35. 2.

About this time, it is said that the knight, entertaining talk with her as she was earnest at work, in sporting wise caught from her a certain small jewel hanging by a lace out of her pocket, or otherwise loose, which he thrust into his bosom, neither with any earnest request could she obtain it of him again. He kept it, therefore, and wore it after about his neck, under his cassock, promising to himself either to have it with her favour or as an occasion to have talk with her, wherein he had singular delight, and she after seemed not to make much reckoning of it, either the thing not being much worth, or not worth much striving for. The noble prince having a watchful eye upon the knight, noted him more to hover about the lady, and she the more to keep aloof of him; was whetted the more to discover to her his affection, so as rather he liked first to try of what temper the regard of her honour was, which he finding not any way to be tainted with those things his kingly majesty and means could bring to the battery, he in the end fell to win her by treaty of marriage, and in this talk took from her a ring, and that wore upon his little finger; and yet all this with such secrecy was carried, and on her part so wisely, as none or very few esteemed this other than an ordinary course of dalliance. Within few days after, it happened that the king, sporting himself at bowls, had in his company (as it falls out) divers noblemen and other courtiers of account, amongst whom might be the Duke of Suffolk, Sir F. Brian, and Sir T. Wiat, himself being more than ordinarily pleasantly disposed, and in his game taking an occasion to affirm a cast to be his that plainly appeared to be otherwise; those on the other side said, with his grace's leave, they thought not, and yet, still he pointing with his finger whereon he wore her ring, replied often it was his, and specially to the knight he said, Wiat, I tell thee it is mine, smiling upon him withal. Sir Thomas, at the length, casting his eye upon the king's finger, perceived that the king meant the lady whose ring that was, which he well knew, and pausing a little, and finding the king bent to pleasure, after the words repeated again by the king, the knight replied, And if it may like your majesty to give me leave to measure it, I hope it will be mine; and withal took from his neck the lace whereat hung the tablet, and therewith stooped to measure the cast, which the king espying, knew, and had seen her wear, and therewithal spurned away the bowl, and said, It may be so, but then am I deceived; and so broke up the game. This thing thus carried was not perceived for all this of many, but of some few it was. Now the king, resorting to his chamber, showing some discontentment in his countenance, found means to break this matter to the lady, who, with good and evident proof how the knight came by the jewel, satisfied the king so effectually that this more confirmed the king's opinion of her truth than himself at the first could have expected. Shortly, upon the return of the cardinal, the matter of the dutchess cooling every day more and more, his credit also waned till it was utterly eclipsed; and that so busied the great personages that they marked the less the king's bent, the rather for that some way it seemed helpful to their working against the cardinal. The king also took here opportunity to proceed to discover his full and whole meaning unto the lady's father, to whom we may be sure the news was not a little joyful. All this notwithstanding, her virtue was not so dased with the glory of so forcible attractives, but that she stood still upon her guard, and was not, as we would suppose, so easily taken with all these appearances of happiness; whereof two things appeared to be the causes. One the love she bare ever to the queen whom she served, that was also a personage of great virtue: the other her conceit that there was not that freedom of conjunction with one that was her lord and king as with one more agreeable to her estate. These things being well perceived of, the queen shew she knew well to frame and work her advantage of, and therefore the oftener had her at cards with her, the rather also that the king might have the less her company, and the lady the more excuse to be from him; also she esteem herself the kindlier used, and yet withal the more to give the king occasion to see the nail upon her finger. And in this entertainment of time they had a certain game that I cannot name then frequented, wherein dealing, the king and queen meeting they stopped, and the young lady's hap was much to stop at a king; which the queen noting, said to her playfellow, My Lady Anne, you have good hap to stop at a king, but you are not like others, you will have all or none. So often earnest matters are delivered under game. Yet had the king his times, and she in the end yielded to give her consent of marriage to him, whom hardly ever any before was found able to keep their hold against. This was now so far to the pleasure of the king, that forthwith he with her and her father concluded to open the matter to the council, all other things being ripe thereunto, and specially for that it was not possible to keep it any longer from the talk of men near his person, and the more, the queen being found to take such knowledge thereof. It is thought then the table was diversely carried to give opinion upon this matter; some of the nobility wishing rather to have had so good hap lighted to some of their own houses; others that it had not been at all; some inclining to either of these as depending on them; but most liked better the king's own choice, both for the hope of issue, and that the greatness of great men should not grow too great to sway with in managing of matters of state. But howsoever, it appeared manifestly that presently there were practices discovered on all sides under sundry arts, on the parts of Spain, from Rome and that faction, and from the queen herself, and specially some with the king, some with the lady herself, plotted to break or stay at the least till something might fall between the cup and the lip, that might break all this purpose with one of them, if it might have been. And verily one of these may seem for this present occasion not unmeet to be recounted; which was this: There was conveyed to her a book pretending old prophecies, wherein was represented the figure of some personages, with the letter H upon one, A upon another, and K upon the third, which an expounder thereupon took upon him to interpret by the king and his wives, and to her pronouncing certain destruction if she married the king. This book coming into her chamber, she opened, and finding the contents, called to her maid of whom we have spoken before, who also bore her name: "Come hither, Nan," said she, "see here a book of prophecy: this he saith is the king, this the queen, mourning, weeping and wringing her hands, and this is myself with my head off." The maid answered, "If I thought it true, though he were an emperor, I would not myself marry him with that condition." "Yes, Nan, "replied the lady, "I think the book a bauble; yet for the hope I have that the realm may be happy by my issue, I am resolved to have him whatsoever might become of me."

The Romish fable-framers, if he may be believed, affirmeth another practice after this sort: "That Sir Thomas Wiat coming to the council, for his better security, confessed to have had dealings with that lady, before he had any perceiving of the king's purpose of marriage; but not being credited by the king, that Wiat, as not finding it well he was not believed, affirmed he would bring the king where he might see him enjoy her. And that again being delivered by the Duke of Suffolk to the king, he yet believed it not." But it is certain that the whole or greatest part of this is fiction; for the persons, manner, and event of these things have been utterly mistaken and misshapen. For I have heard by the report of one of right good and honourable account, and of much understanding in such things, who also hath the truth of his word in high respect, that it was Sir Francis Brian that confessed such a like thing to the king by another lady, with other success more likely, which was that the king thereupon pardoned him indeed, but rejected and gave over the lady ever after to him. Whether the duke might, upon the sight of that which happened at bowls, take any occasion with the king to dissuade the marriage, supposing the knight could not or would not otherwise have cleared himself and the lady, but by confessing and craving pardon for it as done before he had knowledge of the king's intention, I cannot say; and by guess I will not affirm it in any case of any, much less of so worthy and noble a personage. Only this I say, that if he did so, I believe verily that he was greatly deceived therein of his expectation; as finding that by good proof the knight could clear himself and her of that matter, even to the full assuring and ascertaining of the king of the manner of his coming by the jewel without her dishonour, and that so the duke, if he did so, might come to find himself had gone too far, as to have purchased to himself thereby mislike both of the king and queen, whereupon he might turn his heavy displeasure to the knight ever after. I know of a certainty, that the knight had a most high opinion of that princely lady's noble virtues as by trial, and chiefly in the matter of the bowls; in that she took not or interpreted ill of his deed (as herself, being in her own conscience clear), but as he meant it to the king's disport before knowledge of the marriage. This is true also, that Sir Thomas Wiat was twice sifted and lifted at, and that nobleman both times his most heavy adversary, as I have to show under the knight's own hand in his answer to his last indictment. Neither could I ever learn what might be the cause of his so perpetual grudge, save only that it appeareth to be as old as this. Some man might perhaps be led to think that the duke might have a special end to draw him to enter and venture so far to the breaking off the match. And it is true that he was then married with the king's second sister, when the king had then remaining but one only daughter, and then she also questioned whether legitimate: That then also was procured a statute to cut off foreign titles; and it is true also, that after the ambition of some to occasion hereby to thrust the duke's issue, even before the proper and lawful issue of the king, into the regal seat. All this notwithstanding, I will never be induced to give that opinion of that noble man, but rather I would think, if he did any such thing, in any sort giving colour to this fancy of the Roman legender, he did it upon zeal that in his conceit it was true, and that he thought the knight would so far confess it as done before talk of the king's marriage, when he saw he had passed so far in the measuring of the cast. And though the whole fiction have scarcely so much as shadow of colour of any appearance, yet for that part where he deviseth that Sir Thomas should before the council apeach himself and that lady, or after not being credited, offer to make the king see him to have to do with her, this showing itself sufficiently falsified to any wise and understanding reader, especially considering it particularly with the circumstances, it is so far from all likelihood, as all presumptions are flat against it, as in a word or two shall now be showed.

Note 5. Sanders De Origine ac Progressu Schismatis Anglicani. Libri 3. This book was first printed at Cologne, in 1585, and passed through several editions, the last in 1628. It was subsequently translated into French, and printed in 1673-4; which induced Burnet to write his History of the Reformation. In the appendix to his first he gives a particular account of Sanders' book, and refutes the calumnies and falsehoods contained in it. This called forth a reply from the catholic party, under the title of Histoire du Divorce de Henry VIII par Joachim Le Grand. Paris, 1688, 3 vols. 12mo. A work not without interest on account of the documents printed in the third volume, some of which I have found useful as illustrations of the present work.

For that princely lady, she living in court where were so many brave gallants at that time unmarried, she was not like to cast her eye upon one that had been then married ten years. And her parents, then in good and honourable place, resident in court, and themselves of no mean condition, they would keep, no doubt, a watchful eye over her to see she should not roam to the hinderance of her own preferment, a course so foul with one where was no colour of marriage. The King's eye also was a guard upon her, as also those that pleased the king in recounting the adventures of love happening in court made it hard, specially for the shortness of time after her placing there, and the king's own love. Also she that held out against such a king where was hope of marriage, what was like she should do to the knight, where his own lady and her friends were still to attend upon their doings, whose testimonies of the honourable carriage of that lady are therefore here most strong for her? And for the knight, if he had enjoyed her, was he so far desperately wicked and a monster in love, that he would openly, purposely, and to his own disgrace, vaunt the spoil of a maid of so good friends and likelihoods of advancements, without all regard of God or man? especially when she had stood so well upon the assurance of her own innocence for the matter of the jewel without turning him to any displeasure thereby. Those that knew him best, knew him far from that dishonest disposition chiefly in this kind, and for so gross a villany. And if he had been of that mind, yet was he known not of so little wit or understanding, upon a point that was not very likely to be known, to discover his own and her evil; where was a great deal more likelihood that, the king believing her rather than him, he was to incur a more certain and greater mischief, that might in all presumption, fall by the heavy displeasure of them both upon himself ever after. And if we could imagine him both so wretchedly dishonest, and so very a sot (neither of which could be found of him), his father then counsellor to the king, for his wisdom, years, and experience, more grave, would not have suffered him yet to quit himself so fondly and to be so mad; especially as when the king had showed not to believe it, then to run more obstinately to offer when the king had made her privy hereunto, to bring her that the king should see her also so mad as to yield to him after she had given consent of marriage to the king. Who would not believe them also mad, that would believe so mad a carriage of such a business amongst grave and wise men, howsoever the railing Romanist be so mad to write it so as he would seem mad with reason? For the king also, besides that he had more occasion and means than any other to note and observe her doings, yet much more (as the nature of generous spirits carries them) he was watchful upon the knight, as in other things so chiefly in this, not to be outrun at this garland of love; so as by himself and by the eyes of others, there was not any trip but would have been spied, no likelihood but would have carried suspicion with it; how much more would the knight's confession have sunk into his head? Would he, being so wise a prince, have forgotten that the soberness of his choice would serve much for satisfying the world, touching his divorce? Had he not time, had he not leisure to learn, to inquire and sift out all things? His care used in gathering opinions of universities, and in informing princes of the whole matter, with all circumstances in the managing this cause, by the space of some years, show he was not so passionate a lover, but also withal a wise and considerate prince. But it is said the king believed it not! Yet what? when the knight (as this tale saith) offered to make the king see it, and that avowed to the council! Could such a prince as he swallow this? Doubtless none that hath his wits will think so, none that knew the complexion of the king could induce himself to suppose a thing so incredible. The case of Sir Francis Brian's⁶ opening of his love had another effect, and shows plainly that the king was of another metal, since he cast off that Lady loved right dearly (as hath been said) without farther matter. And doubtless in this case, he be lieving the matter would have thrown off this lady also, the marriage not yet consummate, and he having in his own realm and abroad beauties enough to content him, and means enough also to push on some other. But it is devised the king believed it not. Not believing it, think we the knight could have escaped punishment of a slanderer, though he might by confessing, avoid the punishment of a malefactor (as they say) after? This no outrageous madman would believe. If the king would or could have passed it over, the lady in honour could not, nor might. But suppose also that supposal beyond all suppose. Though they punished it not, would they, think ye, have put him in credit and advancement after? Would they have had him chief ewerer even the very day of her coronation? Would they have employed him ambassador in that matter of the marriage? Yea, I say more! would the king also have rewarded him with a good portion of lands soon upon this? But all these were so as we have alleged them. The Chronicles have his service on that day of coronation. His embassages were twice about this matter known right well: I have seen the patents of the grant myself⁷. And these things, the last especially, I the rather allege, for that the knight useth them himself as testimonies of the king's good opinion of him, in his defence before mentioned, which also by the king and his council in those times was liked and allowed of as his just purgation, by which they acquitted him. Finally, that his defence then may and is to be esteemed his defence now also in this case not to be contemned, and may thus be considered. This reporteth that he was twice winnowed. The matters were the same both times, the accusations so frivolous, the inducements and proofs so idle, that they prove nothing more than that there lacked no wills in his adversary to do him hurt, than that they had any least colour of matter to work it. Nothing so impertinent, nothing so unlikely that they allege not. Yea and his most trusty and best services they had the chief matters of their accusation, nothing was so fond that they ripped not up to his discredit, at the least if it might have been. Yet in all this was no word or signification of any such matter. Though it had not been brought as the ground of his accusation, would it not have been drawn forth to aggravate or induce the matter? Undoubtedly it would, either in the queen's life in his first trouble, and it would have done well to revenge if he had done her this wrong, or after to her overthrow, or else in his second trouble against him. But no one word is or was in it touching any such matters.

Note 6. Sir Francis Brian was one of the most accomplished courtiers of his times: a man of great probity and a poet. Wyatt addresses his third satire to him, and pays a high compliment in it to his virtue and integrity. He was, like Wyatt, firmly attached to the Protestant cause: on this account he seems to have drawn on himself the hatred of the Roman Catholic party. Sanders, in his malevolent account of the Reformation in England, relates the following absurd and wicked story of him.

Cum autem Henrici Regis domus ex perditissimo hominum constaret, cujusmodi erant alea tores, adulteri, lenones, assentatores, perjuri, blasphemi, rapaces, atque adeò hæretici, inter hos insignis quidem nepos extitit, Fran ciscus Brianus, Eques Auratus, ex gente et stirpe Bolenorum. Ab illo rex quodam tempore quæsivit, quale peccatum videretur ma trem primum, deinde filium cognoscere. - Cui Brianus," Omnino," inquit, "tale O rex quale gallinam primùm, deinde pullum ejus gallinaceum comedere." Quod verbum cum rex magno risu acce pisset, ad Brianum dixisse fertur. Næ! tu merito meus est Inferni Vicarius. Brianus enim jam prius ob impietatem notissimam vocabatur, Inferni Vacarius. Post autem et Regius Inferni Vicarius. Rex igitur cum et matrem prius, et postea filiam Mariam Bolenam pro concubina tenuisset, demum at alteram quoque filiam, Annam Bolenam, animum adjicere cœpit. De Schismate Anglicano. p. 24.

The royal household con sisted of men utterly abandoned — gamblers, adulterers, panders, swindlers, false swearers, blasphemers, extortioners, and even heretics; among these was one distinguished profligate, Sir Francis Bryan, of the blood and race of the Boleyn. This man was once asked by the king to tell him what sort of a sin it was to ruin the mother and then the child. Bryan replied that it was a sin like that of eating a hen first and its chicken afterwards. The king burst forth into loud laughter, and said to Bryan, "Well, you certainly are my vicar of hell." The man had been long ago called the vicar of hell on account of his notorious impiety, henceforth he was called also the king's vicar of hell. The king, who had sinned before with the mother and the elder daughter, turned his thoughts now to the other daughter, Anne.

This disgusting calumny is repeated by the followers of Sanders, and among others by Davanzati, in his Schisma d'Inghilterra p. 22, Ed. 1727. And yet that history is presented by the Curators of the Studio at Padua, to the youth educated there as una stimabi lissima Storia; descritta con quei vivi e forti colori che soli vagliano a far comprendere l'atrocita del successo dello Schisma d'Inghil terra. "How (says Dr. Nott, from whom this note is taken) can the bonds of charity be ever brought to unite the members of the Roman Catholic communion with those of the reformed church, so long as their youth shall be thus early taught to consider our Re formation as the portentous offspring of whatever was most odious in human profligacy, and most fearful in blasphemy and irreligion?" Memoirs of Sir Thomas Wyatt, p. 84.

Note 7. 32 Henry VIII. A. D. 1540

After so many cross billets of cunning polities, surmounted by the guiding providence of God, after so many trials of her truth, passed through by her wise and virtuous governance, the king having every way made so thorough proof how deep root honour had taken in her bosom, and having found it not to be shaken even by him, this royal and famous prince Henry the Eighth, resolving her matchless perfections meet alone to be joined with his, now at the length concluded forthwith to knit up this marriage, although for certain causes the same was thought more convenient to be performed some what privately and secretly. On the twenty-fifth of January⁸, therefore, the ceremony was consummate. The king also, shortly after having himself more ascertained, and by more inward trial more assured of her spousal truth, would yet farther testify that his opinion of her, by giving her that highest honour he could give her virtues, in having her solemnly and royally crowned. And thus we see they lived and loved, tokens of increasing love perpetually increasing between them. Her mind brought him forth the rich treasures of love of piety, love of truth, love of learning. Her body yielded him the fruits of marriage, inestimable pledges of her faith and loyal love. And touching the former of these, it is here first not to be forgotten, that of her time (that is during the three years that she was queen) it is found by good observation, that no one suffered for religion, which is the more worthy to be noted for that it could not so be said of any time of the queens after married to the king. And amongst other proofs of her love to religion to be found in others, this here of me is to be added. That shortly after her marriage, divers learned and christianly disposed persons resorting to her, presented her with sundry books of those controversies that then began to be questioned touching religion, and specially, of the authority of the pope and his clergy, and of their doings against kings and states. And amongst other, there happened⁹ one of these, which, as her manner was, she having read, she had also noted with her nail as of matter worthy the king's knowledge¹⁰. The book lying in her window, her maid (of whom hath been spoken) took it up, and as she was reading it, came to speak with her one¹¹ then suitor to her, that after married her; and as they talked he took the book of her, and she withal, called to attend on the queen, forgot it in his hands, and she not returning in some long space, he walked forth with it in his hand, thinking it had been hers. There encountered him soon after a gentleman of the cardinal's of his acquaintance, and after salutations, perceiving the book, requested to see it, and finding what it was, partly by the title, partly by some what he read in it, he borrowed it and showed it to the cardinal. Hereupon the suitor was sent for to the cardinal and examined of the book, and how he came by it, and had like to have come in trouble about it, but that it being found to have pertained to one of the queen's chamber, the cardinal thought better to defer the matter till he had broken it to the king first, in which meantime the suitor delivered the lady what had fallen out, and she also to the queen, who, for her wisdom knowing more what might grow thereupon, without delay went and imparted the matter to the king, and showed him of the points that she had noted with her finger. And she was but newly come from the king, but the cardinal came in with the book in his hands to make com plaint of certain points in it that he knew the king would not like of, and withal to take occasion with him against those that countenanced such books in general, and specially women, and as might be thought with mind to go farther against the queen more directly if he had perceived the king agreeable to his meaning. But the king that somewhat afore distasted the cardinal, as we have showed, finding the notes the queen had made, all turned the more to hasten his ruin, which was also furthered on all sides.

Note 8. A. D. 1532-3.

Note 9. Tyndal's Obedience of a Christian Man.

Note 10. This curious and interesting occurrence, which probably had considerable effect in furthering the progress of the Reformation, is told with more circumstance by Strype, from the manuscripts of Fox. It is so entirely corroborated by what is here said, that I think it incumbent upon me to place it in juxtaposition with Wyatt's narrative.

"Upon the Lady Anne waited a young fair gentlewoman, named Mrs. Gainsford; and in her service was also retained Mr. George Zouch. This gentleman, of a comely sweet person, a Zouch in deed, was a suitor in the way of marriage to the said young lady: and among other love tricks, once he plucked from her a book in English, called Tyndall's Obedience, which the Lady Anne had lent her to read. About which time the Cardinal had given commandment to the prelates, and especially to Dr. Sampson, dean of the king's chapel, that they should have a vigilant eye over all people for such books, that they came not abroad; that so as much as might be, they might not come to the king's reading. But this which he most feared fell out upon this occasion. For Mr. Zouch (I use the words of the MS.) was so ravished with the spirit of God speaking now as well in the heart of the reader, as first it did in the heart of the maker of the book, that he was never well but when he was reading of that book. Mrs. Gainsford wept because she could not get the book from her wooer, and he was as ready to weep to deliver it. But see the providence of God: -Mr. Zouch standing in the chapel before Dr. Sampson, ever reading upon this book; and the dean never having his eye off the book, in the gen tleman's hand, called him to him, and then snatched the book out of his hand, asked his name, and whose man he was. And the book he delivered to the cardinal. In the meantime, the Lady Anne asketh her woman for the book. She on her knees told all the circumstances. The Lady Anne showed herself not sorry nor angry with either of the two. But, said she, ' Well, it shall be the dearest book that ever the dean or cardinal took away. ' The noblewoman goes to the king, and upon her knees she desireth the king's help for her book. Upon the king's token the book was restored. And now bringing the book to him, she besought his grace most tenderly to read it. The king did so, and delighted in the book. For (saith he) this book is for me and all kings to read. And in a little time, by the help of this virtuous lady, by the means aforesaid, had his eyes opened to the truth, to advance God's religion and glory, to abhor the pope's doctrine, his lies, his pomp, and pride, to deliver his subjects out of the Egyptian darkness, the Babylonian bonds that the pope had brought his sub jects under. And so contemning the threats of all the world, the power of princes, rebellions of his subjects at home, and the raging of so many and mighty potentates abroad; set forward a reformation in religion, beginning with the triple crowned head at first, and so came down to the members, bishops, abbots, priors, and such like." - Strype's Ecclesiastical Memorials, vol. i. p. 112.

Note 11. Mr. George Zouch.

On the other part, of her body she bare him a daughter on the seventh¹² of September, to the great joy then of all his people, both for that the king had now issue legitimate of his own body, and for the hope of more after. The king also he expressed his joy for that fruit sprung of himself, and his yet more confirmed love towards her, caused her child openly and publickly to be proclaimed Princess Elizabeth at the solemnity of her baptising, preferring his younger daughter legitimate before the elder in unlawful wedlock. And after this again, at the prorogation of the parliament, the thirtieth of March¹³, he had every lord, knight, and burgess sworn to an act of succession, and their names subscribed to a schedule fixed to the same statute, where it was enacted, that his daughter princess Elizabeth, he having none other heir male, should succeed him to the crown. And after were commissioners sent to all parts of the realm to take the like oath of all men and women in the land. Neither also were her virtues only enclosed in her own breast or shut up in her own person. She had procured to her chaplains¹⁴, men of great learning and of no less honest conversing, whom she with hers heard much, and privately she heard them willingly and gladly to admonish her, and them herself exhorted and encouraged so to do. Also at the first, she had in court drawn about her, to be attending on her, ladies¹⁵ of great honour, and yet of greater choice for reputation of virtue, undoubted witnesses of her spousal integrity, whom she trained upon with all commendations of well ordered government, though yet above all by her own example she shined above them all, as a torch that all might take light of, being itself still more bright. Those that have seen at Hampton Court the rich and exquisite works by her self, for the greater part wrought by her own hand and needle, and also of her ladies, esteem them the most precious furniture that are to be accounted amongst the most sumptuous that any prince may be possessed of. And yet far more rich and precious were those works in the sight of God which she caused her maids and those about her daily to work in shirts and smocks for the poor. But not staying here her eye of charity, her hand of bounty passed through the whole land; each place felt that heavenly flame burning in her; all times will remember it, no place leaving for vain flames, no times for idle thoughts. Her ordinary amounted to fifteen hundred pounds at the least, yearly, to be bestowed on the poor. Her provisions of stock for the poor in sundry needy parishes were very great. Out of her privy purse went not a little to like purposes. To Scholars in exhibition very much: so as in three quarters of a year her alms was summed to fourteen or fifteen thousand pounds.

Note 12. So it is in the Calendars prefixed to the Book of Common Prayer in Queen Elizabeth's reign. Lord Herbert says it was the sixth, Sanders the eighth, and Archbishop Cranmer the thirteenth or fourteenth.

Note 13. A. D. 1534.

Note 14. Shaxton and Latimer.

Note 15. To every one of these she gave a little book of devotions, neatly written on vellum, and bound in covers of solid gold enamelled, with a ring to each cover to hang it at their girdles for their constant use and meditation.

One of these little volumes, traditionally said to have been given by the queen when on the scaffold to her attendant, one of the Wyatt family, and preserved by them through several generations, was described by Vertue as being seen by him in the possession of Mr. George Wyatt of Charterhouse Square, in 1721. Vide Walpole's Miscellaneous Antiquities, printed at Strawberry Hill, 1772, No. II. p. 13. It was a diminutive volume, consisting of one hundred and four leaves of vellum, one and seven-eighths of an inch long by one and five-eights of an inch broad; containing a metrical version of parts of thirteen Psalms: and bound in pure gold richly chased, with a ring to append it to the neck-chain or girdle. It was in Mr. Triphook's possession in the year 1817.

She waxing great again and not so fit for dalliance, the time was taken to steal the king's affection from her, when most of all she was to have been cherished. And he once showing to bend from her, many that least ought shrank from her also, and some lent on the other side; such are the flexible natures of those in courts of princes for the most part. Unkindness grew, and she was brought abed before her time with much peril of her life, and of a male child dead born, to her greater and most extreme grief. Being thus a woman full of sorrow, it was reported that the king came to her, and bewailing and complaining unto her the loss of his boy, some words were heard break out of the inward feeling of her heart's dolours, laying the fault upon unkindness, which the king more than was cause (her case at this time considered) took more hardly than otherwise he would if he had not been somewhat too much overcome with grief, or not so much alienate. Wise men in those days judged that her virtues was here her default, and that if her too much love could, as well as the other queen, have borne with his defect of love, she might have fallen into less danger, and in the end have tied him the more ever after to her when he had seen his error, and that she might the rather have done respecting the general liberty and custom of falling then that way. Certainly, from henceforth the harm still more increased, and he was then heard to say to her: he would have no more boys by her. Having thus so many, so great factions at home and abroad set loose by the distorned favour of the king, and so few to show themselves for her, what could be? what was other like but that all these guests lighting on her at once should prevail to overthrow her, and with her those that stood under her fall? She and her friends therefore were suddenly sent to the Tower: and this gracious queen coming unto the entry of the gate, she falling down upon her knees made that place a reverend temple to offer up her devout prayers, and as a bale there her soul beaten down with afflictions to the earth, with her faithful prayers bounded up to heaven. "O Lord," said she, "help me, as I am guiltless of this whereof I am accused." The time approached for the hearing of her cause. The place of her trial in the Tower may somewhat discover how the matter was liked to be handled. Nor there was it appointed the better to conceal the heinousness of the accusation, though that might be the pretence. For that was published in parliament that it might from thence spread abroad over all. Her very accusations speak and even plead for her; all of them, so far as I can find, carrying in themselves open proof to all men's consciences of mere matter of quarrel, and indeed of a very preparation to some hoped alteration. The most and chief of them showing to have come from Rome, that popish forge of cunning and treachery, as Petrarch long since termed it.

Nido di tradimenti in cui si cuova

Quanto mal per lo mondo hoggi si spandi.

Nest of treasons in which is hatch'd and bred

What ill this day the world doth overspread.

For that most odious of them, something is to be esteemed by the apparent wrongs of the other evil handling of matters. But for this thing itself, partly it is incredible, partly by the circumstances impossible. Incredible, that she that had it her word as it were, the spirit of her mind, as hath been said, that she was Casar's all, not to be touched of others, should be held with the foul desire of her brother. Again, she having so goodly a prince to please her, who also had showed himself able to content more than one, that she should yet be carried to a thing so much abhorring even womanly years and to nature itself, much more to so christian a queen. Impossible, for the necessary and no small attendance of ladies ever about her, whereof some, as after appeared, even aspired unto her place and right in the king's love; yea, by manifest prevention before their time. And indeed, hereof, it was her very accusers found it impossible to have colour to charge her with any other than her brother, which also made it no less impossible even for him alike as other. Impossible, I say, because neither she could remove so great ladies, by office appointed to attend upon her continually, from being witnesses to her doings; neither for the danger she saw she stood in, and the occasions daily sought, would she for her own wisdom, and also by the advertisements of her kindred and followers, whereof she had many of most great understanding, experience, and faith, about her. Besides, she could not but be made more wary and wakeful, if for none other cause, yet even to take away all colour from her enemies, whose eyes were everywhere upon her to pick mat ter, and their malicious hearts bent to make some where they found none; as plainly enough was to be seen when they were driven to those straits to take occasion at her brother's more private being with her; the more grudged at perhaps, for that it might be supposed his conference with her might be for the breaking off the king's new love. For the evidence, as I never could hear of any, so small I believe it was. But this I say, well was it said of a noble judge of late, that "half a proof where nature leadeth was to be esteemed a whole proof." On the contrary, in this case he would have said, whole and very absolute proofs to have been needful in such a case against nature. And I may say, by their leaves, it seems themselves they doubted their proofs would prove their reproofs, when they durst not bring them to the proof of the light in open place. For this principal matter between the queen and her brother, there was brought forth, indeed, witness, his wicked wife accuser of her own husband, even to the seeking of his blood, which I believe is hardly to be showed of any honest woman ever done. But of her, the judgment that fell out upon her, and the just punishment by law after of her naughtiness, show that what she did was more to be rid of him than of true ground against him. And that it seemeth those noblemen that went upon the queen's life found in her trial, when it may appear plainly by that defence of the knight that oft hath been here mentioned, that the young nobleman the Lord Rochford, by the common opinion of men of best understanding in those days, was counted and then openly spoken, condemned only upon some point of a statute of words then in force. And this and sundry other reasons have made me think often that upon some clause of the same law they grounded their colour also against her, and that for other matters she had cleared herself well enough. It seemeth some great ones then had their hands in drawing in that law to entangle or bridle one another, and that some of them were taken in the same net, as good men then thought worthily. Surely my Lord Cromwell and this young lord were taken in those entanglements, and the knight himself, of whom is spoken, had hardly scaped it, as may appear by his defence, if he had not by the well delivering of the goodness of his cause broken through it. And this may well serve to admonish men to be well aware how far they admit of laws that shall touch life upon construction of words; or, at the least, admitting them, how far they leave to lawyers to interpret of them, and especially that thereby they give not excuse to juries to condemn the innocent when sway of time should thrust matters upon them. Thus was she put upon her trial by men of great honour; it had been good also if some of them had not been to be suspected of too much power and no less malice. The evidence were heard indeed, but close enough, as enclosed in strong walls. Yet, to show the truth cannot by any force be altogether kept in hold, some belike of those honourable personages there, more perhaps for countenance of others' evil than for means by their own authority to do good (which also peradventure would not have been without their own certain perils), did not yet forbear to deliver out voices that caused every where to be muttered abroad, that that spotless queen in her defence had cleared herself with a most wise and noble speech. Notwithstanding such a trial, such a judgment found her guilty, and gave sentence of death upon her at home, whom others abroad, living to feel her loss, found guiltless.