Spanish Chronicle

Spanish Chronicle is in Tudor Books.

1532 Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn Visit France

1535 Execution of the Carthusians

1535 Execution of Bishop Fisher and Thomas More

1536 Arrest of George Boleyn

1536 Arrest of Anne Boleyn

1536 Execution of George Boleyn, Brereton, Norris, Smeaton and Weston

1536 Execution of Anne Boleyn

1536 Marriage of Henry VIII and Jane Seymour

Chronicle of King Henry VIII of England being a Contemporary Record of some of the Principal Events of the Reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VI.

Written in Spanish by an Unknown Hand. Translated, with Notes and Introduction by Martin A. Sharp Hume, Knight of the Royal Spanish Order of Isabel the Catholic.

London: George Bell and Sons, York Street, Covent Garden. 1889.

To the Most Noble The Marquis of Ripon, K.G., This book is inscribed in humble testimony of admiration and respect. M. S. H.

I beg to acknowledge my obligation to James Gairdner, Esq., of the Record Office, for valuable advice and assistance in preparing this work for the press. M. S. H

Spanish Chronicle Introduction

In 1873 the Academy of History of Madrid had brought under its notice by one of its corresponding members a parchment MS. of ninety-five quarto leaves, entitled "Chronica del Rey Enrico Otavo de Inglatera." The document, which had been greatly prized by the owner's family, was closely written in seventeenth century characters, and was stated at the end to have been copied in Madrid in 1659. It consisted of seventy-five chapters, treating of events which extended from the divorce proceedings of Henry VIII., in 1527, to the execution of the Lord High Admiral Seymour, brother of the Duke of Somerset, in March, 1549, and the Academy of History placed it in the hands of one of its most distinguished members, the diplomatist and statesman, Don Mariano Boca de Togores, Marquis de Molins, for examination and report.

Amidst the political convulsions which were agitating his country, and in which he took an important part, the Marquis could devote but scant and intermittent attention to his task; but notwithstanding his inability to personally consult the many authorities and documents of the period in question, only to be found in London and Vienna, he had made considerable progress with his learned and acute analytical report, when, as he says, almost to his dismay he discovered, as a result of inquiries he had ordered to be made, that no less than eleven copies of the manuscript existed in Madrid and the Escorial — all of them apparently earlier, and some of them more interesting than the particular codex under examination.

This discovery greatly extended the scope of the report, which, instead of confining itself to the one MS., now dealt critically with the whole of the eleven. It was found that several of the copies now unearthed carried the Chronicle on to the execution of the Protector Somerset in January, 1552, and the arrest of Paget, and three of the four copies found in the National Library at Madrid extended into the reign of Queen Mary. It was easily seen, however, that the seventeen chapters, from seventy-five to ninety-two, extending from the death of Seymour to the execution of his brother Somerset, had been written by the same hand and in the same artless and unliterary style which is characteristic of the first seventy-five chapters, whilst the "third part," as it is called in one of the copies, relating the events of Queen Mary's reign, is written in totally different and more cultivated diction. It was wisely decided, therefore, to recommend to the Academy I for publication one of the copies in the Biblioteca Nacional, containing only the ninety-two chapters, with such slight emendations and improvements as were suggested by a collation of it with the several other codices of ancient date which had been discovered in the Palace Library at Madrid and elsewhere.

That the document had been highly valued at the time when the events it recorded were fresh in men's memories was evident from the large number of contemporary copies which had been made of it, and from the fact that the great Jesuit historian, Father Rivadeneyra, in his history of the Reformation, had in at least two cases copied it textually — namely, when describing the coronation procession of Anne Boleyn through London, and the farewell of Henry VIII. on his death-bed with his daughter Mary. Rivadeneyra's history was written in his old age, in 1587, but, curiously enough, he was probably made acquainted with the Chronicle thirty years before in this wise. The only copy which bears a date, except the seventeenth century MS. first submitted to the Academy, is a beautifully copied and emblazoned parchment quarto copy, in which the history is carried up to the execution of the Duke of Northumberland in August, 1553, and in a curious and valuable appendix1 bears the words, take a last farewell of his native place before retiring to his living tomb at Yuste; and amongst the other members of his family there came from England to meet him his son Philip, King of Spain and t England, with his splendid court, one courtier of which, Don Pedro Enriquez, was then to copy the Chronicle 'on the sly,' and send it to his powerful kinsman, and another, a young but already eminent priest, the secretary and friend of St. Ignatius Loyola, Father Pedro de Bivadeneyra, was thirty years after to adopt its very words in his great history of the English schism.

Note 1. The Dedicatory Epistle to the "Albadeliste" copy of the Chronicle in the Biblioteca Nacional runs as follows: —

"When the King Henry VIII. of England married Queen Katharine, daughter of the Catholic King Ferdinand of Spain, there came to England a Valencian man of letters, and lived there many years, during which time there befell in that country religious barbarities, such as the denying of obedience to the Pope and to the Holy Sacrament, and other things to be expected of a misguided and blinded people, as is more largely set forth in this treatise, which is written in five quires and a half, and was written by the Valencian man of letters I speak of, for he was a man of good memory, and as persuaded bj his friends to undertake this work. After he had written all that is contained in these six quires unhappily a certain misfortune befell him, wherefore, as everything over there was changed, he was obliged to leave the country to save his life, and he escaped, and nothmg more was ever heard of him, but it is believed either that he was murdered by his enemies or was lost at sea. He left in the house of a Spanish merchant, a friend of his, who lives in London, all his garments and belongings, and amongst other things he left the original, from which cautiously, and on the sly, and with a great deal of trouble, I have taken this copy of the six quires, or rather five-and-a-half, to be exact, in substance, although m some things I have condensed the writing in much less words, in the first place, because I had no time to be so diffuse, for, as I have said, I have copied it on the sly, and in the next place the style seemed to me to be anything but that of a man of letters, for he never mentions the time nor dates when all this variety of things happened as he describes, for which he excuses himself m the prologue, which I do not copy, in order to attend to the principal part, so I beg to be forgiven for this defect and the others which I may have made by my own fault in the copying, and hope that my goodwill and zealous desire to be useful will be accepted. In Ghent, last day of October, DMLVI.

"I have not had it bound (NOLOEHECHO enquademar), for fear that it might be discovered, for many of the persons of whom it speaks are living, and also because it would be very troublesome to send by the post."

On the back of one of his pages the transcriber also criticises the original in this wise: —

"And I am sorry to see that whilst in all the things of which this history treats, it is most copious and most true, as I have been able to learn from persons who were concerned in them, yet in the matter of fixing time it is so deficient that no date is mentioned in any part of it, although it is so necessary and important a thing for the enjoyment of history."

It will be seen that Don Pedro, the copyist, enters into some curious criticisms of the work he is transcribing, and repeats, but with evident doubt, the current accoimt of its authorship. He says that it was compiled from papers left in the house of a Spanish merchant in London by a Valencian lawyer, or man of letters, who had gone to England with Queen Katharine of Aragon, and who, in consequence of a misfortune that befell him, had to fly from that country to save his life; but he goes on to say that the style of writing appears to him to be very unlike that of a lawyer, although he adds, "it is most copious and most true, as I have been able to learn from persons who took part in the events."

A so-called chronicle without a date, except a purely arbitrary one in its first sentence, can hardly be seriously criticised from the point of view suggested by its title; but the omission of dates, bad as it is in a chronicle, is hardly so suggestive of carelessness as the confused and slovenly order in which some of the events are related. It is no uncommon thing for the writer to hark back with a remark that he forgot to tell an event in its proper order, so he may as well tell it now; and in one case he even transposes the order of Henry VlLL's fourth and fifth marriages, and makes Cromwell intervene in the marriage of Katharine Howard, which took place afler his execution. But for all these imperfections and drawbacks, the Chronicle, written in a rough and blunt phraseology, bristles from beginning to end with new subsidiary facts and natural touches which reveal the sympathies and partialities of the writer, and enable the reader easily to distinguish the scenes of which he was an eye-witness or actor from those which he recounts at second hand only, and again from those which are merely the repetition of the gossip of his class or neighbours. The value of the Chronicle must in a large degree depend upon the personality of the author, and the amount of opportunity for observation which he enjoyed; and the speculations of the Marquis de Molins on this point do not appear to me very successful. No Valencian man of letters went with Katharine to England, except the celebrated Professor Luis Yives, who left before the events of the Chronicle took place, and the uncouth and ungrammatical style proves the writer to have been a man of small culture, and unused to literary composition; but a portion of the Chronicle may have been inspired by a certain Licentiate Medona, or Medina, to whom the Queen wrote a letter in March, 1535, and who seems to have been some sort of agent of hers in London. A suggestion appears to have been made that the chronicler was a Spanish priest who was in attendance on the ill-fated Katharine, but this again is rendered improbable, if not impossible, from the proved fact that, with the exception of the weak and aged Bishop of Llandaff, mentioned in the Chronicle, who died in 1540, no Spanish priest was near Katharine in the last years of her life.; and in any case it is not conceivable that a Spanish priest could have burst forth in paroxysms of praise of Henry as the writer of the Chronicle does. The Marquis de Molins rejects the idea that any Spanish merchant resident in London could have written it, as no mention is made of the frequent exactions imposed by Henry and the Protector Somerset upon the commercial classes, although I would point out that the immunities granted to foreigners resident in London by Henry are mentioned in Chapter LII, and a long complaint on the debasement of the coinage under Somerset is siade in Chapter LXXIX., besides an expression of condolence with the merchants who had been despoiled by the Lord High Admiral Seymour. The Marquis very strongly inclines to the belief that the Chronicle must have been the work of, or at all events inspired by, one of the Spanish mercenary soldiers then in the service of England. It is undoubted that a great portion of any value the Chronicle may possess must depend upon the fact that it contains the most detailed, curious, and hitherto unknown particulars of the lives and fortunes of these military adventurers, their names, their pay, their quarrels, jealousies, and triumphs; and, highly interesting as are some of the grave historical facts related, they may mostly be relegated to the contemporary English chroniclers for the sake of the trivial but deeply interesting miniatures of the daily life of these Spanish swashbucklers.

The Marquis de Molins pitches upon one of these mercenary captains, whose name throughout the Chronicle is mentioned as Captain Julian, as the probable author or inspirer, on account of the almost auto-biographical minuteness with which some of his adventures are told, and very happily guesses this Captain Julian to have been a certain Julian Romero, who in after life became a famous general in the continental wars, but whose biographers were ignorant of his youthful sojourn and services in England. This surmise as to Captain Julian's identity with the General Romero who fought so valiantly at San Quintin, and who died in 1577, is abundantly proved by authorities in England, which the Marquis apparently had not the opportunity of consulting; but true though it be that Julian's deeds and thoughts in certain adventures are set forth with trivial exactness, I cannot for several reasons admit the theory of his authorship of the record. In the first place, his character as displayed in the Chronicle itself, and as confirmed by a Spanish historian in 1554, who calls him a captain of small knowledge or prudence, is the very last in the world to fit him to sit down and write of other men's deeds in the fulness of his own youth and turbulence; in addition to which, his signature to a document unearthed at Simancas by the Marquis de Molins proves that this brave gentleman could hardly write his own name. What is more important still, however, is that certain events in the Chronicle, such as the coronation of Anne Boleyn, the burning of Father-Forest, and the reception of Anne of Cleves, all of which happened before Julian could have arrived in England, are evidently related by the writer as an eye-witness. No mention moreover is made of Julian's active service and adventures in Scotland during the campaigns of 1548-9, in which he appears, according to the French historian Beaugue, to have played a distinguished part.

The author's peculiarly artless style renders it easy to distinguish the point of view firom which he tells his story, and reading between the lines, in nearly every case where he relates a scene at second hand the source of his information is clearly indicated. The theory of the lawyer or priest being the author is unlikely on the face of it. The author could not have been Don Miguel de la Sá (or Lasao), Katharine's doctor, who was with her at her death, although he perhaps communicated the particulars of the scene to the writer, because no mention is made of certain important medical facts obtained from him by the Ambassador Chapuys, and sent by the latter to Charles V.; and more especially because, on the first visit of Chapuys to Kimbolton, related so graphically in Chapter XXIV., it is perfectly clear that the chronicler was one of the party, and tells the story from the outside and not the inside of the castle.

I take it for certain also that the writer of the Chronicle was not himself at Court, or in personal communication with royalty, because in the more or less apocryphal conversations with royal personages scattered throughout the book, the King or Queen is always addressed as 'Your Majesty,' a title used by Charles V., but not usually assumed by or addressed to Henry VIII., who was always called 'Your Grace' or 'Your Highness' in conversation. Again, the writer evidently saw the triumphal procession of Anne Boleyn through the city from the street, and was, clearly, one of the Spanish residents who, as he said, waited so long for the arrival of Anne of Cleves at Blackheath. He indicates himself also as the 'only foreigner' who got inside the Tower to see the execution of Anne Boleyn, by obtaining entrance the night before. He just as evidently saw from the street the return of Surrey from Guildhall after his condemnation to death, and from the street, too, outside the palace of Whitehall, he apparently witnessed the pageant of the christening of Edward VI., and nine years afterwards, his coronation. I judge that the author could not have been a diplomatist, as he shows no familiarity with the person or movements of the celebrated Spanish ambassador in London, Eustace Chapuys, and apparently knows nothing of the eternal game of political checkmate which the wily Fleming was playing with the French king on the English chessboard, nor does he mention once the finesse, the intrigues, the supplications, the threats and the appeals made for years by Chapuys on behalf of the Princess Mary to her brutal father, either to let her leave the country and go to her Spanish relations, or to allow her to have proper medical attendance and some assurance of protection or safety from the ever-dreaded poison. The writer knew none of the moves of what was probably the greatest diplomatic game ever played, and I cannot believe that he was any secretary or hanger-on of Chapuys'.

All this seems to show that the author was not a courtier or a diplomatist any more than he was a lawyer or a priest, and the responsibility for the document would therefore appear to rest between a resident merchant, trader, or interpreter, or one of the mercenary soldiers of fortune who flocked to the standard of Henry VIII. for the honour, the pay, and the ransoms. From the first coming of Katharine of Aragon, with a great suite of Spaniards in her train, there must have been a large number of her countrymen constantly passing through London — messengers, courtiers, friends, soldiers and agents; and after the divorce, the road through France from Flanders to Spain being periodically closed by war, the couriers, men-at-arms, diplomatists, and travellers, in their journeys backwards and forwards, would pass through England from the south-east coast to Bristol or Plymouth in still larger numbers. This would of course necessitate some I lodgings or hostelries in London, where the language was spoken and their countrymen to be met with, the proprietors of which or their sons, would no doubt habitually serve as interpreters to their guests; and all through the book it seems to me that glimpses are to be caught of some such person as this, who would be brought into contact with a large number of his countrymen of all ranks and professions, and, Spaniard-like, would listen to, and in his turn retail, their stories of passing events in which they were actors.

The trite account of the protracted divorce proceedings, and the shadowy forms of kings and cardinals, sink into the background when the real live figure of Montoya, one of the Queen's servants, is brought before our eyes. It is then no longer an abstract personage, but a flesh-and-blood man, who probably told his share of the story to the open-eared chronicler. We know how much money he had, the name of the gentleman in Antwerp who paid it to him, the exact time he took on his voyage, how much he paid for his boat, and the many small particulars by which the simple-minded chronicler plainly divulges his informant. Montoya, we are told, remained at Bruges to escape the King's vengeance, and the scant number of Katharine's faithful Spaniards was still further shrunken; but another informant is ready at the dramatic scene related in Chaptpr XX. When the oath of allegiance to the new Queen, and to Henry as head of the church, was being imposed on all the inhabitants, the Spanish residents in London, we are told, were in hiding for twenty days, until the Emperor's ambassador was able to arrange with the all-powerful Cromwell that they should be exempt; but no such leniency was intended to be accorded to Katharine herself, notwithstanding the splendid burst of fury and indignation with which she had cowed the King's page Montjoy, who had dared to ask her to take the oath immediately after the divorce had been pronounced. The writer of the Chronicle was evidently not at Buckden on the second attempt made to extort the oath from the Queen and her servants, but out of her four Spanish attendants it is quite easy to distinguish the narrator of the scene. The Archbishop of York, Dr. Lee, and the Bishop of Durham, Dr. Tunstall (not as the writer erroneously says, the Archbishop of Canterbury), were sent to administer the oath, but, we are told in the Chronicle, with instructions not to press the Queen very hardly. The daughter of Isabel the Catholic was quite equal to the occasion, and flatly revised to swear. She called her servants together, and explained to them that they could not swear allegiance to Henry as head of the church, but told them to swear as her maître de salle, Francisco Felipe, should swear. The Chronicle tells how she called the faithful Francisco Felipe to her and concocted with him a word-juggle in Spanish which should cover the consciences of the servants and satisfy the bishops at the same time, and the jeu de mots appears to have hoodwinked the commissioners as regards the oath to Henry as head of the church. But the second oath, to Anne Boleyn, was not so easily disposed of; for when the Archbishop told the household what they had to swear, we are told "they all in one voice, and especially Francisco Felipe, said, I have sworn allegiance once to my mistress Queen Katharine, and whilst she lives I can recognize no other queen in this realm." The Archbishop then threatens them with punishment if they refuse, and the dramatic scene of the Burgundian lacquey Bastian is told, and a graphic account is given of his leave-taking from the Queen. It is quite clear from the mistake in the name of the bishop who administered the oath, and from the absence of any mention of the Queen's two young English chaplains, Abel and Barker, who refused to swear and were taken off to cruel sufferings and ultimate martyrdom, that the writer of the Chronicle was not present in person at this scene, and that his account of it was probably related to liim by Francisco Felipe, with whose affairs and movements he is again very well acquainted after the death of the Queen in January, 1536. Felipe was taken from the Queen's service in 1535 for some time and is known to have stayed in London until the prayers of Katharine and the influence of Chapuys caused him to be restored to his mistress; and on Katharine's death he was in London for a time, endeavouring to get the pay that was due to him, as well as a small legacy left to him by the Queen. The Chronicle gives an interesting account of a scene between Henry VIII. and Francisco Felipe respecting the restoration of certain valuables in Felipe's possession, after which the incensed monarch dismissed the faithful servant with scant ceremony and no money, and we are told that Francisco Felipe got nothing, and went poor to his own country. This account, m which the maître de salle is represented in a favourable light, and the King as a mean curmudgeon, can hardly be inspired by the same person as in a later chapter of the Chronicle bursts out in praise of Henry thus,

"Oh, what a good King, how liberal thou wert to everyone, and particularly to Spaniards."

The scene at the Queen's death-bed is probably told at second hand, and might be related by either Dr. De la Sá or Francisco Felipe, but all the events which the Chronicle relates as happening in London at this time, such as Anne's entry into London, her execution, and the martyrdom of Forest, were evidently witnessed by the writer. There is a curious account of the attempted escape from England of the Spanish Bishop of Llandaff, and here again a glimpse seems to be caught of the narrator. He knows exactly the sum of money realized by the plate confided to 'some Spanish merchants' by the Bishop, what was done with the money, and the small particulars of the purchases secretly made for the journey, and even the amount paid to the boatman. I have a vague idea that the writer or compiler, whoever he was, must have lived in the immediate neighbourhood of St. Katharine's (now the site of St. Katharine's Docks), as he so often in the course of his book brings this not very important conventual and charitable establishment into prominence. He mentions that all the windows at St. Katharine's were broken by the concussion of the Tower guns on the entrance of Anne Boleyn, but he has not a word to say for the other windows all round Tower Hill, Tower Street, and other points equally near, whose windows must have been destroyed as well Bishop Ateca of Llandaff is mentioned as being Abbot of St. Katharine's, and living there until his attempted escape. Surrey's boat to aid his escape from the Tower was taken of a St. Katharine's boatman, and was ordered to await him there. The part of London most affected by Spanish merchants was from time immemorial the neighbourhood of Tower Street and both sides of Tower Hill, and indeed the tradition has not even now entirely died out.

In the autumn of 1543, Gonzaga, Viceroy of Sicily, arrived in London, as ambassador from the Emperor to Henry VIII., and an offensive alliance was concluded against France. At that time and for many years afterwards the Netherlands were swarming with soldiers of fortune — Spaniards, Burgundians, Swiss, and Germans — intermittently in the service of the Emperor, but willing to sell their aid to any other potentate who would pay them well; indeed, to this day the Spanish equivalent for 'sending coals to Newcastle' is to 'put another pike in Flanders'; and as the spoil of the church had given to Henry a greater abundance of money than was possessed by any other prince, it was natural that the adventurers should find their way hither as soon as the alliance of Henry and their master was known.

The Chronicle tells with minute exactness of the successive visits of two great Spanish noblemen to England, and the attempts made by Henry to enlist their aid in the coming war. We are told that these noblemen, one after the other, lodged at "the house of a Spaniard settled in London." Their incomings and outgoings are told with almost wearisome exactness. The names of their visitors and the thoughts of their followers are quite familiar with the narrator, and whenever the affairs of these noblemen, and especially the last one, the Duke of Alburquerque, needed communication with Englishmen, the knowledge of the writer is most complete. On the visits of the two dukes successively to the Court of Henry again the spectator stands revealed. It was to the writer a matter apparently of prime importance in a national chronicle that the 'other gentlemen' who accompanied the noblemen should have the honour of kissing the King's hand, and on these occasions, as on most, where the narrator is relating his own impressions, he uses the artless phrase "it was a sight to see" the grandeur of the Court. The Duke of Alburquerque and his followers entered the King's service for the war, and the familiarity of the writer with the Duke's movements continues throughout the whole campaign before Boulogne, at which he was presumably present. The English and Spanish historians barely mention the fact that the Duke of Alburquerque was present, but the Chronicle shows him taking a prominent part in the conduct of the siege, and all that relates to his share and the share of the Spaniards in this and the subsequent wars I believe to be quite new. The minute exactness and truth of the writer with respect to the Duke of Alburquerque's affairs before Boulogne are incidentally proved by a diary of the siege written by the King's secretary, in which not only is the Duke given the next position after the royal blood, but the very uniforms described by the chronicler are mentioned, and the hundred horsemen who followed the Duke. (Rymer, vol. xv. page 54. "The order how the King's Majesty departed out of the town of Callay, on Friday, 25th July.")

The design of the allies was to send two great armies to move conjointly on Paris, and the English king collected troops and sent them to his town of Calais. Unfortunately, however, Henry, seduced by the ambition of following the example of the Emperor in reducing the towns on the road, instead of swiftly moving on the panic-stricken capital, frittered away his strength before Boulogne and Montreuil, and the King's stay before Boulogne previous to its surrender is dwelt upon minutely by the writer. He mentions that the King was in the habit of "coming to the Duke of Alburquerque's tent at nightfall accompanied by a gentleman named Master Knyvett, and a laquey, whereupon the Duke used to sally forth with another laquey and an interpreter the Duke had, and they went to walk on the beach." The conversations between the King and the Duke in these walks are repeated with apparent fidelity, and it is difficult to avoid speculating whether the interpreter the Duke had was not the writer or narrator of the scene, and whether the Spaniard who was settled in London might not have accompanied the Duke to the wars.

Thenceforward the lives and adventures of the Spanish mercenaries in the English service occupy a large space of the Chronicle, and we catch sight repeatedly in the narration of some person who is constantly in contact with these swashbucklers without being one of them. Thus, in the curious scene of Julian's intemperate rage, told in Chapter LXIII., the narrator is not very far to seek. The merchant who heard everything that the obstreperous Julian had said, and who knew exactly how much Gamboa had heard as well as Gamboa's malicious secret appeal to the witness to be hard on the peccant captain, might well be the Spaniard settled in London, in whose house both the Dukes of Najera and Alburquerque lodged, and who, as interpreter to the latter, was familiar with all his affairs in London and before Boulogne. We seem to guess the probability of this "Spaniard settled in London" being one of the foreign jurymen in Captain Guievara's trial for murder in January, 1550, told in Chapter LXXXVIII., as he knows the secrets of their deliberation whilst considering their verdict, and his description of the trial is almost puerile in its minuteness.

That the writer could speak and understand English is evident, from the fact that he repeatedly translates words and expressions, but it is also clear that be had learnt all he knew by ear or rote, from the extraordinary eccentricity of his spelling of English proper names. Not a name in the book is spelt otherwise than phonetically as it would strike a Spanish ear, and in some cases great ingenuity is shown in adapting English pronunciation to Spanish spelling, as in Huaruyque for Warwick, Arequenebeth for Harry Knyvett, Cahuart for Howard, and it is difficult to avoid thinking that the reason why Wolsey's name is never mentioned in the chapters that relate to him is because of the difficulty or impossibility encountered by the writer in putting it phonetically into Spanish letters.

The document appears to have been first written, as far as Chapter LXXV., some time during the year 1550, probably in Belgium, where the writer no doubt had taken refuge from the persecutions of the time in England. Chapter LXXV. tells of the great famine in England which took place in 1550, and a previous chapter relates the execution of Seymour (March, 1549); and that the whole of the Chronicle up to Chapter LXXV. was written at the same time is proved by the remark in Chapter L., when speaking of the unfortunate Sir Geoffrey Pole, brother of the Cardinal who had taken refuge in Belgium, that "at this very day" the Bishop of Liege was entertaining him, and making him an allowance. "This very day" must have been in 1550, as Sir Geoffrey Pole returned to England, amnestied, at the beginning of 1551. The trial of Guevara for murder, at which the writer was certainly present, took place at the end of January, 1550, and is related in what may be called a continuation of the Chronicle. In this continuation many of the events recounted must, in all probability, have happened before the author's flight, such as the already mentioned murder trial in January, 1550, and Warwick's bold intrigue against the Protector; indeed it would appear to be not improbable that the first imprisonment of Somerset might even be the reason of the author's removal to Belgium, as he shows himself all through a strong partisan of Somerset and Paget; but be this as it may, it seems clear that the last seventeen chapters of the Chronicle were not written as the first seventy-five were, all at one time, but were added one by one, partly from reminiscence and partly as the news was received from friends in England. I am brought to this conclusion from the fact that when the writer recounts the reconciliation between the fallen Somerset and the triumphant Warwick, in Chapter LXXXIII., he did not know of Somerset's execution (January, 1552), related in a subsequent chapter, because he expresses some doubt or fear lest the restoration of Somerset to liberty should not be regretted 'some day' by Warwick and his friends.

These last seventeen chapters, probably added piecemeal during the year 1551 and early in 1552, show clearly also that during that tune the writer was living in a French-speaking country, as Gallicisms are constantly creeping into the text of these chapters which are never observable in the first seventy-five chapters, presumably written in England, or more probably transcribed from rough notes or memoranda immediately on the arrival of the writer in Flanders, some time in 1550.

The Chronicle is written throughout in a peculiarly uncouth and clumsy style, and an attempt has been made in the translation to preserve as much of its blunt simplicity as possible, whilst suppressing enough of its tautology and obscurity to make it intelligible to English readers.

M. S. H.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 1

How the Cardinal was the cause of all the evil and damage that exist in England.

In the year of our Lord one thousand five hundred and thirty1 Henry VIII. being King of the realm of England, and in the flower of his age, determined for his own greater tranquillity, and in order to be able to take his pleasure, to give over the government of his kingdom to a Cardinal who lived there, who was Archbishop of York. This Cardinal was not a very learned person, but was much thought of by the King. He was of very low birth, his father being a butcher, but the King gave him the Chancellor's seals, and all that he ordered in the kingdom was done, even the Lords2 obeying him. It came to such a pass, indeed, that the King intervened in nothing, and this Cardinal did everything. As it is the custom of princes always to strive to be friendly with those who rule in foreign countries, the King of France gained the goodwill of the Cardinal to such an extent that it brought about an alliance between the French and English Kings, and the Cardinal always tried that the King of England should be on bad terms with the Emperor, the more to show his own friendship for France.

Note 1. This date (the only one in the book) appears to be quite arbitrarily introduced, as Wolsey had been Henry's minister since 1513, and several of the events related in the next three chapters happened before 1530, Wolsey indeed dying in that year, having been disgraced the year previous.

Note 2. The members of the King's Council are generally thus indicated in the Chronicle.

When Pope Clement died, this Cardinal wrote to the Emperor, asking him to remember what he promised him at Bruges when he was there as ambassador, which was to try to get him made Pope. The Cardinal well knew the Emperor would not do it, and by this means he could pick a quarrel with him.1 This was evident when he sent the Clarence herald with the herald of France to the Emperor to bid him defiance, as everybody knows. In this document I shall not talk about challenges, but I will tell of the artful plot he contrived. As he rose from base beginnings he rejoiced in having wise people in his train, and amongst them there was an astrologer, who said to him one day, "My lord, you will be destroyed by a woman." At the time he had so much power the sainted Queen Katharine was living, and, she grieving that so low a man should have so great control, showed but little love towards him, and rather tried that the King should look after the government of his kingdom. The Cardinal knowing this, and remembering what the astrologer had said, made up his mind to invent the diabolical thing we shall tell you of in the next chapter.

Note 1. This is an error. The intrigue in question took place on the death of Pope Leo X., on the 1st December, 1521. Wolsey had gone on a mission to the Emperor at Bruges earlier in the year, and was cajoled by the wily Charles with promises of advancement to the papal dignity into concluding an offensive alliance of Spain and England against Francis I., who only the year before had sworn eternal friendship with Henry on the "Field of the Cloth of Gold." The promise looked a safe one when it was made, as the Pope was only forty-five, and much younger than Wolsey. On the death of Leo X., however, Charles sent the Bishop of Badajoz as ambassador to England to quiet Henry and the Cardinal with false hopes, whilst the Spanish agents were paving the way for the election in Rome of the Emperor's former preceptor, the Cardinal of Tortosa (Adrian VI.). The Bishop of Badajoz, writing to his master from London, 19th December, 1521 (Family Archives, Vienna — Bradford), says: "On the one side it does not appear to me that the Cardinal entertained any very sanguine hopes of success, though he is very far from despairing of it; on the other it is nevertheless obvious that something may be gained in this affair. The Cardinal will not fail to perceive in the management of it what the disposition of your Majesty towards his pretensions really is, and what trust is to be placed in your Majesty's promises conveyed to him last year through Sieur de la Roche and myself, which he at that time refused, but which he did not now forget to remind me of." A few days after the dispatch of this letter the Bishop received one from the Emperor, dated 14th December, 1521, in which he instructs him to impress upon Wolsey how zealous and desirous he (Charles) is to secure his election. Amongst other pregnant passages in this letter there is one that mentions Bruges as the place of the Emperor's promise.

"We wish you further to inform Monseigneur the Legate (Wolsey) on our part that we have never failed to have his advancement and elevation in view; and that we most willingly hold to the promise made to him at Bruges respecting the papal dignity; requiring only to know his own wishes, and the measures he would advise, in order to use in this affair, and in every other which concerns his interest, all the power and influence, without any reserve, which we can command."

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 2

How the Cardinal made the King believe he was badly married and living in mortal sin.

After the devil had put it into the head of the Cardinal to do all the ill he could to the sainted Queen Katharine, and the Cardinal, knowing that the King was very much enamoured of one of the Queen's ladies, called Anne Boleyn, he went to the King one day, and finding him very merry, he said, "Sir, your Majesty must know that for many days I have wished to say something to you, but I do not dare, for fear you should be angry with me." The King wishing to know what it was, said, "Cardinal, say what is in your heart; you have my leave." The mischief-maker was nothing loth, and kneeling on the ground, he said, "Your Majesty must know that for many years you have been in mortal sin and living in adultery, for you are married to the wife of your brother, the Prince of Wales." The King was struck with astonishment, and said, "Cardinal, you deserve heavy punishment if this be so, and you have not told me before. If I really am in mortal sin, God forbid that it should go on; but if it is not so, take care what you say."1

Note 1. This scene, if ever it took place at all, must have happened not later than 1527, about which time the idea of a separation from Katharine first seems to have assumed form.

Grafton says: "This season (i.e., summer, 1527) there began a fame in London that the King's confessor, being Bishop of Lincolne, called Dr. Longland, and divers other great clarkes, had told the King that the marriage between him and Lady Katharine, widow of his brother, Prince Arthur, was not good, but damnable, and the King should hereupon marry the Duchess D'Alençon, sister to the French King, at the towne of Calice this sonmier, and the Viscount Rochfort had brought with him a picture of the said ladie, and that at his return out of Fraunce the Cardinall should pass the sea into Fraunce to fetch her."

The Cardinal repeated his assurance; and to turn his wickedness to account, he said, "Your Majesty will see to it and undo the error." The King, as I have said, being in love with Anne Boleyn, answered him, "Well, but, Cardinal, in what manner can I free myself from it?" Then said the Cardinal, "Sir, your Majesty must speak to the Queen to this effect: 'My lady, you well know that you were married to my brother and lived half a year with him, so by the divine law I could not marry the widow of my brother;' and when your Majesty has spoken thus, you will see what she will say, and we will proceed accordingly." The King liked the Cardinal's advice, and presently, on the same day, he went to the sainted Queen and said, "Well you know, my lady, that on the command of the King my father I married you, and now it seems to me that for many years we have lived in mortal sin. I know you are holy and good; let us then undo the error of our consciences, and you shall be Princess of Wales, and we will part." From that hour forward the King was only happy in the thought of getting rid of her. The sainted Queen, knowing the malice from which it sprang, answered as follows.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 3

The answers given by the Sainted Queen to the King.

O My good Henry, I well know whence all this comes, and you know that the King, Don Ferdinand, when he gave me in marriage with the Prince of Wales, was still young, and I came to this country a very young girl, and the good Prince only lived half a year after my coming. My father, the King Don Ferdinand, sent at once for me, but King Henry VII. wrote and asked my that I might marry you. You know how we were both agreed, and how my father sent to Rome for the dispensation, which the Pope gave, and which my father left well guarded in Spain." The King, thinking she had not got the dispensation, answered, "We must see it; I do not believe there is any such dispensation." Then the blessed lady, seeing that things were really serious, sent off a gentleman of hers named Montoya, who was so diligent, that within twenty days he went to Spain and brought back the dispensation. During this time the King's love for Anne Boleyn became more and more ardent, and he was burning with impatience to get quit of the Queen, and carry out his intention of marrying Anne Boleyn, as he afterwards did. As soon as the gentleman came back with the dispensation, and the King knew of it, he said he wished to know from Rome if the dispensation was genuine and true, so he ordered that for a space of ten days no one should leave the kingdom, and during that time he sent a post to Rome. It is said that he sent to offer a large sum of money, that they might write from Rome that no such dispensation existed; and the Queen, when she knew that the King had despatched his post, said to the same Montoya, "It is necessary, Montoya, that you depart by post with my letter to the Pope at once, and as the ports by Dover are closed, take a Flemish ketch, pay them whatever they ask you, and depart at once, striving to arrive in Rome before the King's post leaves there." The good Montoya was no sluggard, for that same night he gave fifty crowns for a ketch, in which he sailed; and God so ordered it, that in a day and a half he arrived in the town of Antwerp, and there an honourable gentleman named Pero Lopez gave him three hundred ducats. He left; and God guided him so, that he arrived in Rome one day before the King's post. As the Pope received the letters from the blessed lady first, when the King's post arrived, he said, "I know already why you come, and I wish all the world to know that the dispensation is a good one, and I will write to the King your master what may be necessary, sending thither also for my greater tranquillity Cardinal Campeggio." So he presently carried this into effect1, and sent off the King's post and the gentleman Montoya; but when the post arrived in England, the King was sorely chagrined to learn that the Pope was warned by Montoya's having gone. As the blessed lady knew the King was angry, she prevented Montoya from coming over, and so the gentleman stopped in Flanders, in a town called Bruges, and there they gave him what he required. Cardinal Campeggio left Rome, and in a very short time arrived in England, when the King wished the case to be considered.'2 The King took for his representative the English Cardinal, and the blessed lady chose Cardinal Campeggio, and a term of thirty days was accorded for both sides to prepare their cases and defend their rights.

Note 1. Pope Clement's Bull was dated 3rd April, 1528.

Note 2. Cardinal Campeggio arrived in England early in October, 1628, and departed October, 1529.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 4

How the Sainted Queen defended her own case for want of a lawyer.

The blessed lady, knowing that she should not find anybody to speak for her, sent a messenger to Flanders with her letters to a learned man who lived in Bruges, called Master Luis Vives, who was in her pay. She wrote to him, asking him to come to her aid; but this Luis Vives1 was so frightened that he durst not come; so when the sainted Queen saw that he was too much afraid, she said, "Praise be to God; I must trust in Him, and He will help me."

Note 1. This was the celebrated Valencian lawyer and philosopher, who had been one of the professors of Corpus Chrlsti College, Oxford, and had been formerly in high favour with both Henry and his Queen, who had confided to him the education of their daughter Mary. He had been arrested and banished at the beginning of the divorce proceedings, and the invitation of the Queen that he should return and defend her was answered by him with a refusal. In writing on the subject to Juan de Vergara, his own account of the circumstances is somewhat curious: "In rebus Britannicis magna mutatio. De hoc Regis et Regineæ dissidio audivisti et enim est fabula toto notissima cœlo, ut ille dicit. Ego Regina me adjunxi, quæ mihi meliore causa visa est niti, eique quam potui opem tuli et dicendo et scrivendo. Ea res animum Regis offendit, ita ut me libera custodia juberet detineri sex hebdomades unde sum dimissus ea conditione ne regiam ingrederer. Itaque liber jam, consultissimum judicari domum redire idque Regina per codicillos suasit clam missos. Post menses aliquot missus est Campegius Cardinalis in Britanniam judex causæ. Rex mira festinatione missit Reginam quærere sibi patronos et advocatos ad dicendam causam apud eum ipsum Campegium et Cardinalem Angliæ. Accivit me Regina ut sibi adessem; negavi expedire ei á quamquam in illo foro defendi; præstare ut indicta causa condemnaretur quam ut aliqua specie defensionis: Regem tantummodo prætextum quærere ad suum populum; ne Regina inaudita videatur esse circumventa, reliqua eum non magnoperè curare. Irata est mihi etiam Regina, quòd non statim voluntati potius suæ paruerium, quam rationi meæ, sed mihi mea ratio instar est omnium Principum; ergo et Rex tamquam inimico, et Regina tamquam immorigero et refractario, uterque annum mihi salarium adhemit. Itaque his fere tribus annis ego ipse admiror, unde me toleraverim, ut facile intelligam quantò majus sit quod Deus tacite supeditat, quam quod ab hominibus cum magno strepitis exprimitur — "

Epistolæ Vives— Vives opera omnia Valentiæ, 1788 (Marquis De Molins).

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A great change in British affairs. You have heard of this dispute between the King and the Queen, and it is a story well known in all heaven, as he says. I joined the Queen, who seemed to me a better cause to rely on, and I gave her all the help I could, both by speaking and writing. This fact offended the King, so that he ordered me to be detained in free custody for six weeks, whence I was released on the condition that I should not enter the royal palace. And so, now free, it was judged most advisable to return home, and this the Queen urged by means of codices sent secretly. After some months Cardinal Campegius was sent to Britain to judge the cause. The king, with great haste, sent the queen to seek for her patrons and advocates to plead the case with him himself, Campegius, and the Cardinal of England. The Queen urged me to attend her; I refused to expediency to him, although I defended him in that forum; to provide that the said cause should be condemned rather than as some kind of defence: The king only sought a pretext for his people; Lest the Queen seem to be surrounded by the unheard, the rest do not care much for him. Even the Queen was angry with me, because she did not at once obey her will rather than my reason, but to me my reason is like that of all princes. therefore, both the King as an enemy, and the Queen as sleepy and refractory, each withheld a year's salary from me. And so, during these three years, I myself marvelled at the way in which I had borne myself, so that I could easily understand how much greater it is that which God grants in silence, than that which is expressed by men with a great noise.

So when the time was expired the judges sat in the great hall of London, and there were eight lawyers for the King and none for the sainted Queen.1

Note 1. The tribunal sat 28th May, 1529.

At that hour first began in the kingdom the eruptive a pestilence of heresy, for no sooner had the judges commenced hearing the King's lawyers, and before the sainted Queen had spoken, these lawyers advanced such things that one of them, even without any shame whatever, said, "Your lordships will know that if the Prince of Wales had carnal conversation with this lady, there is no divine law or any dispensation worth anything at all, and the marriage cannot be valid. That the facts may be seen the more clearly I have here these two gentlemen of great credit who will swear that one. morning the Prince came out of his chamber saying: "Gentlemen, I come out glad this morning, for I have been during the night six miles into Spain." The lawyer produced his witnesses, who swore what he had said was true, but for their honours' sake I will not name them. The blessed lady seeing this wickedness and perfidy, brought out the dispensation, and said these words, "O false ones! how can you swear such great wickedness? The King Henry, my husband, knows well how he found me." And sure enough it was said that the Prince was impotent, and that the blessed lady was virgin when she married the King. The judges seeing the right that the blessed lady had on her side — Cardinal Campeggio being much more learned than the English Cardinal, and overcoming him by the Holy Scriptures— they found that the dispensation was quite good. The English Cardinal, seeing that his learning did not reach that of Campeggio, agreed with him to give sentence next day in favour of the sainted Queen, and went that night to see the King, to whom he said: "May it please your Majesty, I was mistaken, and all our doctors, and it is needful that the sentence should be given against your Majesty." The King when he heard this flew into such a great rage as could not be surpassed, and as he was determined to leave her (i.e. the Queen), and was blind with love for Anne Boleyn, whom he wanted to marry at once, he told the Cardinal very angrily to get out from his presence, and sent to summon the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and other lords of his Council, and said to them:

"Well, my lords, you have seen how the Cardinal has put me in for this, and now at the best time he leaves me in the lurch. I am determined to follow my own will, and I wish you, my lord Duke of Norfolk, to-morrow, when the Cardinals sit to give judgment, and before they give it, to tell them that I command that no judgment shall be pronounced." So on the next day when the Cardinals took their seats the Duke of Norfolk was present, and before anyone else spoke, he said: "My lords, it is the will of the King that no more should be said about the Queen's affair, and he wishes no sentence to be given." So the Cardinals, hearing what the Duke said, presently arose, and no more was said in the matter.

That same day the King said to Anne Boleyn: "Sister, the Cardinal has left us in the lurch at the critical time, but I promise you I will not forsake you. I will crown you Queen of my realms yet." And she answered him, "Your Majesty is ruled by the Cardinal; it would be better if he went to study again, and had not so much power." "I promise you. Madam, for the love I bear you," said the King, "I will take from him the power he wields." What a judgment of God! and how He punishes the wicked! This Cardinal thought he was to be undone by the sainted Queen Katharine, and instead of that he was ruined by Anne Boleyn.

So the King sent for the Cardinal, and took from him the seal of Lord Chancellor, and ordered him to interfere in no temporal affairs. The Cardinal seeing this went down on his knees before the King, and begged the grace of being allowed to go to his diocese, which the King granted, and presently he took his departure, of which we shall speak in its proper place.1

Note 1. 1529.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 5

How the King dismissed Cardinal Campeggio, and presently married Anne Boleyn.1

As soon as the English Cardinal had gone to his diocese the King called Cardinal Campeggio, and said to him, "Cardinal, you can go when you like, for I would have you know that from this day forward the Bishop of Rome shall have no more power in my realm."

Note 1. Campeggio left England in October, 1529, but the public marriage of the King with Anne did not take place until the end of May, 1533, although they had been privately married some months previously.

The good Cardinal, seeing the intention of the King, resolved to leave at once; so he went, and we will make no more mention of him here. And the King ordered a meeting of the grandees of his kingdom, both temporal and spiritual, and when they were met, he made them a short speech, and told them clearly not to dare to contradict him, and then he said: "You well know the tyranny exercised every year by the Bishop of Rome in my dominions, and the large sum of money he takes out of them: and it is my will that he shall take out no more. Therefore, I wish Parliament to be called together so that it may abolish this state of things." They all answered with one voice that it should be done, indeed they were obliged, for he had told them beforehand not to contradict him, and some of them even told him he had done well.2

Note 2. The divorce from Katherine was actually promulgated by Archbishop Cranmer in May, 1533.

Then the King commanded that within eight days all should meet at Westminster, and in the meanwhile he said he wanted to marry Anne Boleyn, and begged them all to approve. The King made this speech at a town near London, called Greenwich, the blessed lady, good Queen Katharine, staying there at the same time. The King left directly afterwards for another house of his called Richmond, and then sent for Anne Boleyn and all the ladies of the Court, very few remaining with the sainted Queen. When they arrived he sent to the Archbishop of Canterbury to say mass, who married them at once.1

Note 1. This evidently refers to the public marriage. The private marriage took place at Whitehall on the 25th of January, 1533, and the officiating clergyman was Dr. Lee, Bishop of Coventry, afterwards of Chester and of York.

Here the King acted by might and not by right, and when the sainted Queen heard of it you may conceive the great sorrow which fell upon her to see the King do so ugly an act before God and the world to satisfy his own desires. He sent to the blessed lady to tell her to leave the house and go to Kimbolton, about fifty miles from London; and the blessed lady, seeing the King's order, left2 at once, taking with her all her old servants, both English and Spanish, and some of her ladies whom she had brought up from children. God knows they all were sorrowful enough, but the blessed lady comforted them and said: "My true servants, pray be of good cheer. I trust in the mercy of God that he will turn the heart of my dear Henry so that he may see the error into which he has fallen."

Note 2. The author, in his desire to tell a connected story in these early chapters, sacrifices chronological accuracy and sequence. Katherine, in fact, had left Greenwich for Windsor more than two years previous to Henry's second marriage. She was removed to Ampthill in June, 1531, thence to Buckden in 1533, and finally to Kimbolton, to die, in July, 1535.

As soon as the house was clear Anne Boleyn was in haste to get back to Greenwich. So they all returned, and within three days the King made known to the city of London how he wanted to pass through the city with his new Queen for her to be crowned at Westminster; and the citizens, as soon as they knew the King's will, decorated the city very sumptuously, and made many triumphal arches, as will be told.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 6

How Anne Boleyn was taken to the Tower of London, and the manner in which she passed through London.

The King had not been at Greenwich three days with his new Queen when he sent word to the Captain of the Tower of London to make ready, as he was going thither, and on Monday morning he left Greenwich in one of his barges, accompanied by the Queen. There were so many barges and boats which left with them, and so many ladies and gentlemen, that it was a thing to wonder at, for it is four English miles from London to Greenwich, and the river is quite wide, but nothing else could be seen all the way but barges and boats all draped with awnings and carpeted, which gave pleasure to behold.

Near the town of Greenwich the King always keeps many of his ships, and these were all dressed out very prettily, and full of artillery; and higher up towards London there were many vessels before a place called Ratcliff (Recleo), which also were in order; and higher up still, before St. Katharine's, there were an infinite number of ships, vessels, and barges, all in very good order. Well, it is quite incredible the great quantity of artillery there was around the Tower of London. As soon as the King got into his boat they began to fire off so many cannons at Greenwich, that the King's boat got as far as the first ships before they finished. Then the King's ships took up the firing, and it lasted so long that the King arrived at Ratcliff, two miles off, by the time it was ended, and then the ships off Ratcliff commenced, and went on firing till he got to St. Katharine's, where the artillery on the ships and barges continued firing until the King reached the Tower and went inside; indeed, all the ladies and gentlemen had disembarked before it finished. The Tower guns then began, and it verily seemed as if the world was coming to an end; indeed, they fired so much, and the pieces were so large, that neither in the Tower nor in St. Katharine's, which is almost like a town, was there a single whole pane of glass left, and it seemed as if all the houses must tumble to the ground.

When the artillery had finished the trumpets began, so many of them, that it was quite a sight to see. And so all that day and night the King with his Queen remained in the Tower, and the next morning1 very early the King, went in his boat to Westminster. At ten o'clock Anne left the Tower in an open litter, so that all might see her, but before she came out all the cavalry preceded her, all in very fine order and richly bedight. Then came the gentlemen of rank, and then all the ladies and gentlemen on horseback and in cars, very brave. The Queen was dressed in a robe of crimson brocade covered with precious stones, and round her neck she wore a string of pearls larger than big chick-peas, and a jewel of diamonds of great value.2 On her head she bore a wreath in the fashion of a crown of immense worth, and in her hand she carried some flowers. As she passed through the city she kept turning her face from one side to the other; and here it was a very notable thing to see, that there were not, I think, ten people who greeted her with "God save you!" I as they used to when the sainted Queen passed by.

Note 1. 1st June, 1533.

Note 2. Hollingshead, writing in 1587, describes her dress thus: "She had on a circot of white cloth of tissue, and a mantle of the same furred with ermine. Her haire hanged downe, but on her head shee had a coife with a circlet about it full of rich stones."

It is curious, however, that a contemporary historian, the celebrated Jesuit, Father Rivadeneyra, secretary of St. Ignatius Loyala, in his history of the "Schism in England,'' written in 1587, copies textually the words of our Chronicle describing Anne's dress and progress.

And when she arrived at the great street called Chepe, near a gilded cross which was there, they had put up a very brave triumphal arch; and the custom of that country is, when a King goes through London on his way to be crowned, the city gives him a thousand pounds sterling, and when a Queen passes they give her two thousand nobles. On the top of the triumphal arch were the gentlemen of the city, and by a cunning device, as the Queen passed, they let down a boy dressed as an angel, who gave the Queen a purse containing two thousand nobles.1

Note 1. This hardly agrees with the accounts of other eye-witnesses, but the discrepancy is easily explained.

Hollingshead says: "The Aldermen stood by the Little Conduit in Cheape... When she came to the Cross of Chepe, newly gilt, Master Baker, the recorder, came to her with a low reverence, making a proper and brief proposition, gave in the name of the city 1,000 marks in a purse of gold, which she thankfully accepted with generous words... She then rode to the Little Conduit, where there was a rich pageant full of melody, representing Mercury, with Pallas, Juno, and Venus; and Mercury presented her with a gold ball divided into three parts, as a gift from the goddesses, to signify wisdom, riches, and felicity." The chronicler evidently saw the presentation at the conduit, and took it for the other one.

As soon as Anne received the purse of money she put it beside her in the litter; and here she showed she was a person of low station, for there were by her at the time the Captain of the King's Guard with his men and twelve lacqueys, and when the sainted Queen passed to her coronation she handed the two thousand nobles to the Captain of the Guard, to be divided between the halberdiers and the lacqueys. Anne did not do so, but kept them for herself.

Passing through London she arrived at Westminster, where the King was awaiting her, and she was received with great sounds of trumpets and other instruments. The King took her in his arms and asked her how she liked the look of the city, to which Anne answered, "Sir, I liked the city well enough, but I saw a great many caps on heads, and heard but few tongues." It is a thing to note that the common people always disliked her. From Westminster Hall she was taken to the church, where the Kings and Queens are always crowned, and there she was crowned with great ceremony, and carried thence to the royal palace, where great feasts were made, lasting more than a week, with many jousts and tournaments. Here we will leave them for a time to say what the King did in Parliament.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 7

How the King was made Head of the Church in his realm by the Parliament.

I have told how the King ordered all the grandees of his kingdom to meet in Parliament within eight days, and when they were met he made this speech to them: "You know already how the Bishop of Rome with his false Bulls and pardons took great sums of money from this country every year, and how he has made himself esteemed. I have seen this great abuse, and my will is, and I hope all will agree with it, that I should be acknowledged head of the Church within my realm. It is necessary, therefore, that all of you, both spiritual and temporal, should take the oath to that effect. From this time forward I desire to take the revenues, and that the Pope should be called only Bishop of Rome. Whoever cls him Pope must be punished." They all, both spiritual and temporal, cried with one voice, declaring him head of the Church in England after God.

On that day nothing else was done, but in two days' time the spiritual Lords met in the great church which they call St. Paul's, and agreed that within a month all the bishops, abbots, and prelates of the realm should come to take the oath, as well as two from every monastery in the land.

During this time notice was given to a Spanish bishop1, who acted as Queen Katherine's confessor, to come and take the oath. He was Bishop of Llandaff, in the land of Wales, and the good Bishop, knowing the evil intention and the bad path they were following, went to the sainted Queen and said to her: "My lady, I sorrow much that I shall be forced to leave your Majesty, for they have sent for me to take my oath to the King as head of the Church, which I will rather die than do." The blessed lady answered him, "Bishop, look well what you do, the soul is more precious than worldly goods;" and the Bishop said, "Your Majesty will see what I will do." So he presently departed for London, and went to his abbey of St. Katharine's, for he was the abbot of it, where he appeared quite happy. Then one day he went to the house of some Spanish merchants who were there, and said to them, "Gentlemen, I need to sell a little silver, and I do not want anyone to know that it is mine. I will send it to you this evening, and you will turn it into money as soon as may be." So he sent a coffer full of silver by a servant whom the good Bishop trusted, and it was sold for one thousand ducats, which the Bishop asked them to have delivered to him in Flanders, and it was so arranged without anyone knowing anything about it.

Note 1. This bishop is called in all English records and histories George Allequa or Atheca, but the Marquis De Molins proves his name really to have been Jorge de Ateca, a Dominican monk, who appears to have been appointed confessor to Queen Katherine for a short time on her first arrival in England in 1501, and to have been re-appointed by the King and Privy Council to the same post near the injured Princess during the last years of her martyrdom, in consequence of "his timid and quiet character. He would do less harm than any other." (Privy Council Papers.)

He was consecrated Bishop of Llandaff in 1517, and was replaced in 1537. The story of his attempted escape is told in its wrong order in the Chronicle, as it did not take place until a month after the death of the Queen, to whom he administered the last sacraments. He was, however, for some time before then, in extremely bad odour with the King and the all-powerful Cromwell, for on 24th August, 1535, Morgan, the Commissioner, writes to Cromwell saying he is inquiring into the state of the diocese, but that the Bishop is not in those parts, and he must do the best be can without him (Gairdner); and subsequently, in the same year, Adam Becansaw, priest, and John Vaughan, who were the judges, write to Cromwell saying that they have found the Bishop of Llandaff and his Archdeacon guilty of great ruin and decay of the mansions and other great faults, and nave sequestered the fruits into the King's hands and yours (Cromwell's). (State Papers, Gairdner.)

The Bishop went back to his own country (Aragon) in 1537, and Fray Diago, the historian of the Dominican order, tells a miraculous story of him on his way home to Calatayud. "While on this journey, he arrived at the city of Zaragoza, in the kingdom of Aragon, where they not only demanded dues on his wardrobe, which was not large, but also on some blessed candles which had been given to him in Our Lady of Monserrat for the Empress; and he said, 'The curse of St. Peter and St. Paul fall on the house of him who does me such a wrong,' and the next day at dawn it, i.e. the house, was in such a blaze that all the people in it had great difficulty in escaping. As a proof that this happened by order from heaven, it was God's will that the houses on each side were uninjured, although a high wind was blowing. The Bishop arrived in Calatayud, and God called him to his kingdom in the same monastery where he had taken the vows. He died in 1540, and is buried in the middle of the church, going out of the Lady Chapel." — Diago, "Historia de la Orden de Santo Domingo" (De Molins).

Then he sent to a Flemish skipper and said to him, "Brother, you must leave by this tide with your ketch for Gravesend, and this lad you see here will join you with an old sailor. I want you to carry them to Flanders, and for your trouble, and that you shall not delay, here are fifty ducats for their passage." The skipper said, "Let them come to-night, the weather is fine, and I will soon land them in Flanders." So the ketch went to Gravesend to await the lad and the sailor.

Then the Bishop sent his servant to buy some sailors' clothes, and told him to let nobody see. When he had bought them he sent him to hire a boat to take them both to Gravesend, which the lad presently did; and then at midnight, unseen and unheard, the Bishop dressed himself as a sailor, and very secretly they sallied out and went to the boat which was awaiting them. The same night they arrived at Gravesend, where the ketch was waiting; but as it was very early in the morning, they left the boat and went to an inn. The good gentleman had already warned his servant not to pay him any respect, and by-and-bye the skipper of the ketch came and said to the lad, "Brother, if you are going it is time to be gone, for the tide is running." So they left to go on board, and as they got into the boat the boy entered first, and carelessly said, "My lord, give me your hand." There were many boatmen there, and they suspected what it was when they heard "my lord," and went to the justice of the town and told what they had heard. The justice went with a boat and men before the ketch could set sail, and as he knew the Bishop, he said, "What is this! my Lord Bishop, this dress accords ill with your dignity." So he brought him out of the ketch, but took no notice of the servant, who went with the vessel to Flanders, carrying with him certain of his master's documents, whilst the justice went to London with the Bishop.1

Note 1. Antoine de Castlenau, Bishop of Tarbes, writes to Francis I. from London, 3rd March, 1536 (Bibl. Nat., Paris): "A Spanish bishop, the late Dowager's confessor, has just been arrested in a sailor's dress, while about to embark on a Flemish ship to go to Spain. He was discovered through his servant calling him "my lord." It is said that he has sent 100,000 crowns to Spain and that he is in great danger, for leaving the country without licence is punishable by death. He says he intended to go on a pilgrimage, and ask for leave on his return."

Eustace Chapuys writes to Charles V. from London, 7th March, 1636 (Vienna Archives): "The Bishop of Llandaff, confessor to the late Queen, finding that he could not live as a good Catholic, or preserve his own soul in safety, fearing also that by refusing to swear to the new statute he should be treated like the Bishop of Rochester and others, determined on the very day of my last letter (25th February) to escape from the kingdom for Flanders or Aragon, where he was born, but he managed so badly that he was taken a prisoner, and put in the Tower..... The King does not wish him to go, as he might stir up opposition to the King...." (State Papers.)

Just as he was he was carried before the King, and the King when he saw him said, "How is this, Bishop, what clothes are these?" and the good Bishop answered, "I am a bishop no longer. Poor I entered this realm, and poor I wish to leave it." Then the King sent him to the Tower, where he was a prisoner eight months, until at last an ambassador, who was there from the Emperor, named Eustaquio Chapuys, caused the King to let him go. So this good Bishop went away, but he carried out his intention, for he did not swear like the others, of which we shall speak no more in this our discourse.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 8

How the King made a Chaplain of Anne's father Archbishop of Canterbury.

As soon as the King was married to Anne the Archbishop of Canterbury died, and Anne asked the King to grant her the boon of giving the archbishopric to a chaplain of her father's called Thomas Cranmer. The King granted it and summoned the chaplain, to whom he said, "Chaplain, I grant you the boon of the archbishopric of Canterbury." It may well be imagined that this news was received with joy by the Chaplain, who knelt down and kissed the King's hand. "Give your thanks to the Queen, Archbishop," said the King, and when the Archbishop thanked her, the Queen replied, "Cranmer, you have well deserved it for the good service you have rendered to my father."

Here I wish to declare that this was the last archbishop who received the papal Bull, which he sent for at the King's wish, in order to dissemble with the Pope, as he had not yet sworn allegiance to the King as head of the Church.

A Genoese merchant named Arigo Salbago found him the money which they sent to Rome. The King might well have excused him from this, if he had liked, as he took the oath so soon afterwards. In a very short time came the dispensation from the Pope, but it was not so quick but that the King was sworn head of the Church before it came, and this chaplain was made bishop without the usual ceremonies which accompany the act. He was one of the greatest heretics and greatest enemies that the Pope had, and all his life he has lamented the money he gave for the Bulls.

This archbishop is not at all learned or wise, but he has in his house the wisest men to be found in the land. Every day they study two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon, and he always delights in having the greatest heretics in the kingdom. This bishop it was who hurried the prelates to take the oath, as we shall tell in the next chapter.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 9

How the prelates swore to the King as Head of the Church.1

It has already been told how within a month the prelates were to meet, and the gathering took place in the church of St. Paul's, London. All the bishops commenced, and then the prelates, and they all swore that from that time forward their King was also their spiritual head, and they would all obey him as such. They arranged that commissioners should go all over the kingdom to administer the oath to the clergy in the monasteries and churches, and it was ordered that those who would not take the oath should be hanged, drawn, and quartered. The commissioners who were appointed set forth for all parts of the kingdom, and two of them went to the churches and monasteries of London, where all, some from fear and some from inclination, took the oath, except most of the Carthusians, of whom we shall speak presently; and we shall tell how the Lords took the oath, and how the Chancellor would not take it.

Note 1. Spring, 1535.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 10

How the Lords took the oath, and how the Chancellor - Thomas More - would not take it.

All the Lords also met and acknowledged the King as head of the Church as the prelates had done; and when it came to the turn of the Chancellor, Thomas More, he would not swear. This Thomas More was one of the wisest laymen in the kingdom, and the King had given him the Great Seal when he took it away from the Cardinal. When they wanted him to swear, he said in a loud voice that all could hear, "My lords, if you knew what you have sworn it would grieve you sorely, and God forbid that I for fear of death should sacrifice my soul." As soon as the Lords heard him speak in this manner they said, "What, my Lord Chancellor, do you think you know more than all the prelates of the kingdom, and do you think we do not prize our souls as highly as you do?" "My lords," he answered them, "if you did value your souls you would never have consented to do what you have done, and I for my part say I am ready to die."

The Lords then took the Great Seal from him and sent him a prisoner to the Tower. When they informed the King, he showed great concern, for he knew More was one of the wisest men in his kingdom, and he told them to let More alone, as he would go himself to the Tower and see him, and hoped to convert him. Great was the love he bore this Chancellor, for the King was never known to visit or speak to anyone after lie had been arrested. I had forgotten to say that when the prelates were sworn the good Bishop of Rochester1 was very ill, and very old, and therefore could not go to the Parliament, but afterwards they made him come, and then he refused to swear, so he was taken to the Tower. We shall speak of this bishop in due time, but we will now return to Thomas More.

Note 1. John Fisher.

As the King had said, he took his boat and went to the Tower, where he had More brought before him, and said these words to him: "Thomas More, what art thou thinking about? Dost thou not know that I have raised thee from nothing, and to place thee in greater state I have made thee my Chancellor; that I had and still have the will to make a great lord of thee? Why dost thou refuse to acknowledge me as the others have done? I beseech thee to do this, and I will do for thee what I have said." More answered him very quietly, and without the least fear, in these words: "I know, Sir, that your Majesty has shown me many great graces, but do not think, Sir, that for all the goods of this world I would lose this poor soul & of mine which Jesus Christ our Lord redeemed; and your Majesty must know that I have two masters — God is the first over my soul; your Majesty is over my body. Which is best, to serve the Lord of my soul or the Lord of my body? Since your Majesty is master of my body you must do with it what you will."

When the King heard this he went away, and ordered him to be tried, and refused to see the Bishop of Rochester. So the Lords met and passed sentence, which was that both More and the Bishop should be beheaded. They kept them eight days after the sentence, thinking that the good More would recant, but as the Holy Ghost was in him he stood firm and despised death, caring nothing for the things of this world. The loss of such a man was a great one for the King; and if all the other lords had done like the sainted More when the King made his speech to them, there would not have been so many heresies in the country as there are now.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 11

How the Carthusian martyrs died who would not take the oath.

We have said how the Commissioners went to all the churches in the country to administer the oath acknowledging the King as head of the Church, and how they went to the Charterhouse. The night before they came the Prior called all the brethren together and preached to them very devoutly, and his sermon was such that all of them there and then declared they would die before they would take the oath. So they all promised one another, and were dismissed.

When the Commissioners came the next day, the Prior spoke for all, and said, "Gentlemen, do not strive to make us swear, for we are all determined to die first. When the Commissioners heard this, they said, "What, fathers! do you want to be more rebellious to the King than all the other orders? Do not act thus." And to hear each man speak for himself, they called the Prior first, and placed a book of the Gospels before him, and commanded him before them all to put his hand upon it. He laid his hand upon the book and answered them, "Gentlemen, I promise you by all the virtues there are in this book, that I will rather die a thousand deaths than swear anything of what you wish;" and then he lifted his hand from the book, made the sign of the cross, and went out straightway.

They called the others, and the ten of them swore as the Prior had done, that they would rather die, and the whole eleven were carried off to prison just as they were.

When the King heard of it, he ordered that justice should be executed upon them; so they were taken two by two on hurdles, and they were dragged to the gallows, which is three miles from London. The Prior went alone on a hurdle, and the holy friars confessed each other as they went along, the Prior embracing the crucifix, and saying many prayers.

When they were arrived at the gallows, they took one of the first and threw a rope round his neck, and the hangman asked his pardon. Then all the others placed themselves so that they should see the first die, the Prior preaching in Latin and comforting him as he was led up; and the friar turned to the hangman, and said, "Brother, do thy duty." The rope being placed on the gibbet, the hangman whipped the horse and the friar remained hanging. Directly, before he was half dead, they cut the rope, and stripped him; then they ripped up his belly, plucked out his bowels and his heart, and cast them into a fire that was burning there, and afterwards they cut off his head, and cut him into quarters. The holy friars were looking on at all this, praying the whole time, and when the first one was finished, the Sheriff, who is the justiciary, said to the other fathers, "You see what has become of your companion, you had better repent, and you will be forgiven." Altogether in one voice, which was like that of the Holy Ghost speaking in them, they cried out, "Sheriff, we are only impatient to join our brother." Each one offered himself as first for martyrdom, and, in short, they all died like the first one.

When the Prior saw that his brothers were dead, he cried aloud that all might hear, "Thanks to God that I have seen this day, and that I have witnessed my brothers go to glory. I beg to God in His mercy that I may soon be with them, and my great grief is that seven of my brethren feared the death which was life everlasting." Then he knelt and prayed, saying, "I pray to our Lord that He will put into their hearts such repentance as will make them sorry for what they have sworn." Then the hangman threw the rope round his neck, and served him the same as the others. Thus ended these eleven Carthusians; and all their quarters were placed at the gates of the city and the gates of the Charterhouse. It was a very notable thing that in more than three months' time the quarters were quite perfect, and no crows or jackdaws were ever seen on them such as are seen on other quarters of men, so in time they became dry. All of these friars died martyrs, for not one of them was dead when the hangman cut them open. God keep them in His glory. Amen.1

Note 1. If this account of the martyrdom of eleven Carthusians be correct it is important. The Bishop of Faenza, writing in September of the same year, says "from twelve to fourteen Carthusians have been hanged;" and Viscount Hannaert, the Emperor's ambassador in France, writing at the same time, says "twenty-eight people have been martyred, amongst whom are nine Carthusians. Mr. Gairdner, in the preface to the eighth volume of the Calendar of State Papers of the time of Henry VIII., expresses disbelief in the martyrdom of this number of Carthusians, and points out that Hannaert must have obtained his information from Chapuys, who says that "nine Carthusians are prepared to die." The English chronicles agree that on the 19th June, 1635, three Carthusian monks, namely, Newdigate, Middlemore, and Ermew, were hanged, drawn, and quartered at Tyburn, and that on the 20th April preceding, three Carthusian priors and two monks had been martyred in the same way, and their quarters and heads set up on the gates and bridges, except one quarter, which was exposed at the gates of the Charterhouse; but I can find no reference to eleven Carthusians being martyred at the same time.

Dr. Ortiz, writing from Rome to the Empress in November, 1535, says "another Carthusian's head had been set up on the gates of London, with those of More and Fisher." He says that "the Bishop of Rochester's (Fisher's) head was as fresh as at first, whereas the others turned black, but as people noticed it, all the heads were thrown into the river."

Chapuys writes to Charies V., 6th May, 1535: "Yesterday there were mugged through the length of the city three Carthusians and one Bridgettine monk, all men of good character and learning, and cruelly put to death at the place of execution only for maintaining that the Pope was head of the Church." (Vienna Archives. State Papers. — Gairdner. )

We have thus eleven Carthusian martyrs vouched for in London by the English chroniclers during the months of April, May, and June, and it would certainly appear probable that the unknown Spanish writer of the present record had consolidated these separate martyrdoms into one event.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 12

How the King appointed for his secretary Cromwell, who had been secretary of the English Cardinal.

When the King dismissed the Cardinal from the Chancellorship, this Cardinal had a secretary called Cromwell, who at the time of the dismissal was going through all the abbeys in England, by orders of the Cardinal, to inquire the amounts of their income. This Cromwell was so diligent that he managed to inquire into everything, and the poor abbots, in doubt what was the object, and in the hope of ingratiating themselves with the Cardinal, sent him large sums of money by Cromwell, and when he arrived in London with the treasure, there was no lack of people to tell the King about it.

As soon as the King knew that this Cromwell had brought with him so much money robbed from the abbeys, the King sent for him, and said to him, "Come hither; what are these robberies you have committed in the abbeys?" and Cromwell answered him very boldly, "May it please your Majesty, I have not committed any robbery, and I have done nothing but what I was ordered to do by my master the Cardinal. The money I bring was sent of their own free will by the abbots of the monasteries as a gift to the Cardinal, and your Majesty well knows that the Cardinal did as he liked, and I did as he told me, and therefore I bring these thirty thousand pounds sierling for the Cardinal." The King thereupon took a great fancy to this Cromwell, and spoke to him in this fashion, "Go to, Cromwell, thou art much cleverer than anyone thinks," and instead of sending him to be hanged as everybody expected, he gave him a slap on the shoulder and said to him, "Henceforward thou shalt be my secretary." This was the beginning of the rise of this Cromwell, who afterwards became more powerful than the Cardinal himself, as we will tell further on.

Seeing himself so quickly raised to the place of secretary to the King, and being one of the greatest heretics in the kingdom, he determined to maintain his position and try to rise, so he said to the King, who he saw was bent upon aggrandizing the Crown, "May it please your Majesty, I have a note of all the revenues and treasures held by the abbeys, and it seems to me that your Majesty could take away a great many of them, and apply the revenues to the crown." "But how can this be done, Cromwell?" said the King. "I will tell your Majesty. I will present a letter to Parliament in your name asking them to grant you all the abbeys which have less than three thousand ducats, and your Majesty can then appropriate a great revenue to the Crown, and send the abbots to the richer abbeys."

As this Cromwell had the revenues of the abbeys all written down, and signed by the abbots themselves, they could not get out of it. They were great simpletons, for a large proportion of them had signed that their abbeys did not reach three thousand ducats.

The petition was made to Parliament, and all declared in one voice that as the King was head of the Church he could do what he liked in his own Churchy and therefore the demand was granted.

Cromwell was no sluggard, for he immediately sent collectors to unmake the abbeys. A great quantity of plate and revenues was got from them, without counting the large quantity stolen by the Commissioners, and great was the damage done to the realm by the destitution of these abbeys.

After a time, to complete the work, they ordered that all bhe abbeys should be abolished; and as the King made grants to many gentlemen of the church buildings, which were all covered with lead, they consented the more readily, and did not see the great destruction that was coming to the country. For everyone who reads this must know that two-thirds of the nation were maintained by the abbeys, which had many estates, and let the land cheaply to farmers, who thus held their pastures on easy terms, whereas, when the estates came into the possession of the King, and the gentlemen began to buy the hereditaments of him, they let them very much dearer to the poor farmers, and thus commenced the great rise in the price of all victuals and other things, as will be told.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 13

How the Cardinal was accused of intending to go to Scotland, and how he died.

We have told how the Cardinal asked the King for leave to go to his diocese, which was York, and no sooner had he gone than a very great many declared themselves his enemies. Among them one especially hated him very much, named Lord Sandys, cousin of Lord Arundel. Sandys went to his cousin, and said, "My lord, I much wish to be revenged on the Cardinal, who, you know, with great unfairness, took away from me more than a thousand nobles of revenue. I wish to complain to the King, and I will tell him that the Cardinal is going to pass over to Scotland." "Well, cousin," answered Arundel, "make your complaint now, for I know the King has fallen out with him, and I think he will give you back your revenue." So Lord Sandys went and said to the King, "May it please your Majesty, some servants of mine have just come from York, and they say that the Cardinal has given over two hundred new liveries to his men, and means to go to Scotland, carrying with him a treasure of money." The King, as he had fallen out with him (the Cardinal), said to this Lord Sandys, "Well, I order you to take fifty of my halberdiers, and bring him back here, and if I find it as you say I will punish him; and bring me the treasure he has, and all his plate." This Lord Sandys did not tarry, but at once started off with the halberdiers, and within eight days he arrived in York. He arrived at the time the Cardinal was dining, and went up to the dining chamber.1

Note 1. I can find no record of Lord Sandys taking any part in Wolsey's arrest. The English chroniclers agree that at the end of October, 1530, a commission was given to the Earl of Northumberland to proceed to York and arrest the Cardinal, and hand him over to the custody of the Earl of Shrewsbury. We are told that the Earl of Northumberland, accompanied by Sir Walter Walsh and other gentlemen, arrived at Cawood Manor on 4th November, and after an altercation with the porter at the gate, whom they forced to surrender possession, and prevented anyone from advising the Cardinal, they ascended and found Wolsey at dessert. When Northumberland, taking Wolsey aside in his chamber, whispered that he arrested him, the Cardinal was very indignant, and reiused to submit until Sir Walter Walsh assured him that he had the King's personal order to arrest him, when Wolsey, who knew Walsh as a member of the Council, said that was sufficient, and surrendered. He was taken to Sheffield Park, the Earl of Shrewsbury's seat, and there remained a fortnight for the arrival of Sir W. Kingston, the Constable of the Tower, to take charge of him, and on the last day of his stay there was taken il. He moved next day to Hardwick Hall, and thence, on the following day, to Leicester, where he died, 30th November, 1530.

When the Cardinal saw him, he said, "Welcome, my Lord Sandys, you come at a good time; sit down and dine." To which Lord Sandys answered, "Cardinal, this is no time to dine so leisurely;" and the fifty halberdiers then came in, and said, "My Lord Cardinal, the King has sent us for you, and we must take you with us without delay." When the Cardinal heard this it did not please him at all, but he answered, "I will make ready, and we will go when you command." Then another gentleman took possession of all his plate, of which there was plenty; and they found in his coffers over fifty thousand pounds in cash, and it was all put on horses and taken from York. At two days' journey from York the Cardinal fell sick, and so grievous was his malady that he died that night. It was said that he took some sort of poison to avoid a more shameful death.

God's judgment! For this Cardinal had a fool, and one day that the Cardinal went to see a very splendid sepulchre which he was having made for himself, the fool went with him, and said, "My lord, why are you striving and spending so much money on this? Do you think you will be buried here? I tell you, when you die, you will not have enough to pay the men to bury you." And so it was as the fool had prophesied, for as soon as Lord Sandys saw he was dead he took no more notice of him, and would not wait even to see him buried, but went away at once. Truly it would have been better if he had died when he was a child, for then all the evil he caused would not have happened, and it would have been better for his soul.

Well, when Lord Sandys arrived at Court, he went at once to kiss the King's hand; and when the King heard of the Cardinal's death, he said, "I suppose he guessed that I should give him a different death." He ordered the income which the Cardinal had taken away from Lord Sandys to be given back to him; and so ended this Cardinal, who thought to be the greatest lord in the world.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 14

How this Cardinal, before the King married Anne, tried to get him married in France.

I forgot to tell of the marriage that this Cardinal tried to make for the King. When the King was disputing with the blessed lady, the Cardinal was in correspondence with the King of France, and arranging that the King should marry a Madame. He went so far as to contrive that the King should send him as his ambassador to Prance, and, as the King did nothing but what the Cardinal advised him, he sent him, but whilst the Cardinal was getting ready to go, the King sent a gentleman to France to bring him a portrait of the lady. This gentleman made such haste that he got back before the Cardinal entered France; and as soon as the King saw the lady's face, which was ugly, his love for Anne Boleyn being more ardent than ever, he sent after the Cardinal, and they reached him in Calais before he had started.1

Note 1. This refers, no doubt, to Wolsey's magnificent embassy to France (see note 1, page 4) in 1527. Grafton says the Cardinal left England on 3rd July, accompanied by many ladies and gentlemen, to the number of 1,200, and describes the unprecedented splendour of his train at great length. Instead of his being recalled from Calais, however, the English chronicles give his itinerary, or rather triumphal process to Amiens, where he arrived on 4th August, and stayed with the French King, returning to England the last day of September. A return embassy from Francis I. to Henry arrived in England in the following month, and was received m London with a lavishness exceeding, if posible, Wolsey's reception in France. These embassies and their supposed object did more to make Wolsey unpopular with the common people than any previous act of his.

It was a sight to see the splendour of the Cardinal. Never was there an ambassador who bore such magnificence, and great was his sorrow when the King sent for him to come back. When Anne Boleyn knew that the Cardinal had gone to arrange a marriage for the King, and saw how fond the King was of her, she determined to do him (the Cardinal) all the harm she could. How she did so has already been told, for she was the cause of his being disgraced.

And then he died as has been related, thus fulfilling the prophesy that he should be destroyed by a woman. The ill-fated man thought it would be the blessed Queen Katharine, but instead of that it was the cursed Anne Boleyn.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 15

How Cromwell advised the King to abolish the monasteries from the kingdom.

This Cromwell was always inventing means whereby the King might be enriched and the crown aggrandized, and one day seeing the King in a good and merry humour, he said, "I beseech your Majesty to listen to me;" to which the King answered, "Secretary, speak your will." "Then," answered he, "your Majesty should know that it will be well to abolish the monasteries. The many parish churches are quite enough, and so many distinctions of dress are not in accordance with the teaching of St. Peter." The King asked how it could be done, and Cromwell answered him: "I will tell your Majesty; I will send to all the monasteries to order and give them notice that it is your wish that in future they should appear simply as priests, and then, after a little time, it can be done easily and without scandal, because as they will be dressed simply as clergymen, people will not see that they have been friars." The King answered, "Do as you will, Cromwell; what you desire shall be carried out."

Thereupon Cromwell sent to all the monasteries, and ordered them in the name of the King to go dressed as priests, and that all should change their monastic garb within one month. The sinners of friars, seeing this would give them more liberty, were in such a hurry to change that in a week there was not a friar to be seen, for they all appeared as priests, and in six months nobody knew that there had ever been any friars. When Cromwell saw that the time was ripe, he sent all over the kingdom and arranged that on a certain appointed day they should all be turned out of the monasteries, and thus was it done. Here the King got a great treasure in crosses, chalices, and vestments from the monasteries, and the poor priests who had been friars did not know what to do; so most of them went to the north, where they did what will be related further on.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 16

How the King went to Calais with his Queen Anne.

The King was so infatuated with his new Queen that he determined to go over to Calais and take her with him, so that the King of France might see her, and this he carried out. He started in very great state, and when he arrived at Calais the King of France was at Boulogne, and came to Calais, where the King gave him a very grand reception and great feastings. Queen Anne paid him great attention, for she had been brought up at the French court, and was even said to be not averse to the Admiral of France. Anything may be believed of her, for she acted as will be related presently.

When the great rejoicings were over, the King of France begged the King, together with the Queen, to go to Boulogne and enjoy themselves there with him. The King consented, and they went in very great state. If the King of England's welcome to him of France was a splendid one, very much more splendid were the feasts given by the King of France to the King and his new Queen. They were at Boulogne three days, and then returned to Calais, where the King received letters from his Council, giving him news of the rising of the north. So the King returned to his kingdom, and when he got to London he gathered men to send to the north; but first we will relate the cause of the rising, and who were the first instigators of it.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 17

How the priests who had been friars went to the north, and what they did.1

When the poor friars saw themselves homeless, destitute, and without food, most of them went to the north and stirred up the common people to rise against the King. They chose for their leader a lawyer named Aske, and met in a field, where one of the priests preached a sermon, and in less than a week they were joined by forty thousand men or more, and then chose their captains. This Aske was their general, and his banners bore painted on them the five plagues of Egypt.2 As soon as the King heard of it he sent the Duke of Norfolk, with as many men as he could get, to meet them. Aske had already a great deal of artillery, and some of the gentlemen of the north with him, and the Duke of Norfolk hurried forward and arrived within two miles of the rebels before they could pass a river, behind which he pitched his head-quarters, and which was a good protection to the Duke's people, as it had rained in the night so much that the river had risen a furlong, otherwise the rebels would have routed them.

Note 1. It is curious that the writer, whilst giving an account of Aske's revolt, which, however, he antedates two years by making it follow immediately on the King's visit to France in 1532, does not even mention the much more important rising in Lincolnshire which preceded it. Instances of this limited purview are found all through the book, and rather tend to add value to what is described, as apparently the writer tells nothing, because he knows nothing, except events in which he is in some way personally interested either as actor, eye-witness, or friend of persons concerned.

This is another instance of how entirely dependent the writer was upon what he heard rather than what he read. The original Spanish cinco plagas de Egipto, is almost similar in sound with cinco llagas de Cristo, five wounds of Christ, for which it has evidently been mistaken, and which were borne upon the banners of "the pilgrimage of grace" as this revolt was called. Grafton says: "They had also certain banners in the field whereon was painted Christ hanging on the cross on one syde, and a chalice with a painted cake on the other syde, with divers other banners of like hpocrisie and feyned sanctitie. The souldiers also had a certain cognisaunce or badge embroidered or set upon the sleeve of the coates, which was the similitude of the five wounds of Christ."

When the Duke saw the great power of Captain Aske he in at once despatched a courier to the King, telling him that even with fifteen thousand more men he should hardly have enough to defeat them. When the King heard this he dissembled, and wrote a letter to Aske, showing him great favour, and asking him to come and speak with him; offering to send as hostages six of the principal gentlemen of the realm, and to grant all Aske's demands which were just. The six gentlemen hostages went; they were the Earl of Surrey, son of the Duke of Norfolk, Lord D'Arcy, the Earl of Rutland, Lord William, brother of the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis of Exeter, and Lord Thomas, brother of the Earl of Surrey; and when the good Duke saw by the King's letters the wise course he had taken he sent his heralds to Captain Aske with the letters. Aske, when he received the letters in which the King spoke to him so lovingly, gave credit to his promises, and showed the letters to the principal gentlemen who were with him, who all agreed with their chief that he should go, but that the hostages should be required.

A fine determination they came to, as I shall tell directly.

As soon as the hostages arrived the Duke sent them to Aske's camp, and Aske departed and came to the Duke, who gave him great good cheer, and handed him letters for the King, all very cautious. When he arrived where the King was, as soon as the King saw him he rose up, and throwing his arms around him said aloud that all might hear: "Be ye welcome my good Aske; it is my wish that here, before my Council, you ask what you desire, and I will grant it." Aske answered, "Sir, your Majesty allows yourself to be governed by a tyrant named Cromwell. Everyone knows if it had not been for him the seven thousand poor priests I have in my company would not be ruined wanderers as they are now. They must have enough to live upon, for they have no handicraft." Then the King, with a smiling face and words full of falseness, took from his neck a great chain of gold,which he had put on for the purpose, and threw it round Aske's neck, saying to him, "I promise thee, thou art wiser than anyone thinks, and from this day forward I make thee one of my Council." And then on the spot he ordered a thousand pounds sterling to be given to him, and promised him the same amount every year as long as he lived.

The unhappy Aske, carried away with the chain and the thousand poimds and grant of annual income, was quite won over, and the King said to him: "Now return to the north, and get your people to disperse and go to their homes, and I will grant a general pardon for all. In order that the priests may have enough to live upon I will divide them amongst the parish churches and give them in allowance. Let them come at once, that this may be lone. I order that in York each of the parishes shall take two of these priests, and give them ten pounds a year each to live upon, and the others I will divide amongst all the towns and villages." When Aske saw the good tidings he had to take back he determined to return at once; and the King ordered that after all was pacified he should come to Court, and he promised to make him one of his Council.

He left presently, and when he arrived to where his people were he made them a speech after this fashion: "Oh, my brothers and gentlemen, what a wise and virtuous prince we have! He recognized the justice of our cause, has given us a general pardon, and to you, the priests, he will give enough to live upon. Here is an order for York, providing for many of you in the parishes there, and you are to go thither at once to be apportioned to various places." When the people heard this, they all cried with one voice, "Long live our good King!" and the hostages were sent back to the Duke's quarters, and, in short, in a few hours all the people were on their way home, for they were already tired of it, and had wasted a good deal of their cattle. When the Duke saw all was pacified he went to the city of York with three thousand men, and took measures which prevented further rising, and then went back to the King, taking with him Captain Aske, to whom he still showed great respect. When they got to the King he asked Aske what gentlemen had helped him, and when Aske told him, he sent and summoned them, and on their arrival had them beheaded. He at once sent Aske a prisoner to the city of York, and had him hanged on the highest tower in the city so that all might see.1

Note 1. Aske came to Court in December, 1536, and remained apparently in high favour for a time, but was beheaded in June, 1537.

So ended Aske; and when it was all over, the King said to Cromwell, "It seems, Cromwell, that the country does not know thee as I know thee. Whoever harms thee shall harm me." Then Cromwell knelt and kissed his hand. In short, this Cromwell had more command even than the Cardinal had had, and the gentlemen (i.e. the Council) obeyed him as if he were the King. If his pride had not betrayed him, and he had kept friendly with the lords, he would not have come to the end he did, as will be related presently.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 18

How Thomas More and the Bishop of Rochester died.

How the Bishop of Rochester and Chancellor More were sentenced has already been told. At that very time, the Pope, to see whether they would obey him, sent a cardinal's hat to this Bishop, whom he knew to be a very learned man. When the King knew it he was in a very great rage, and on the very day the Bishop was sentenced to death the cardinal's hat arrived. The King ordered both their heads to be cut off, so they brought them out of the Tower both together to the scaffold, which is just near the Tower. It was quite a sight to see the great number of people, for it was a good long while before the prisoners arrived, and, when they came, there were over five hundred halberdiers with them. The first to ascend was the Bishop, and when he saw so many people he gave them his blessing, and would have liked to preach a sermon to them, but he was not allowed to say anything. Then the good Bishop, seeing they would not let him talk, said these words: "Worthy people who are here, I beg you to pray to God for my soul, and also pray that He will lead your King on a better road than at present." Then the guards retired, and the holy man knelt and said to the executioner, "Do thy duty." Then he placed his head upon the block after having said a prayer in Latin, and when he had finished, the executioner struck off his head in three blows, and he rendered up to God the soul that was His already.1

Note 1. Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, was beheaded 22nd June, 1535, and Sir Thomas More some days afterwards.

Then the good More ascended the scaffold. He had seen all that had passed, and any man may imagine the anguish he was passing through, above all when he saw the Bishop headless." Gentlemen," he said, "do what is to be done at once, for although I would fain speak to the people, I know you will not allow me, so I only ask them that when they see the blow struck they will all say three times the name of Jesus, so that my soul may take its flight with that sound." He said no more, but lay down at once; and when the captain of the castle saw his determination, he said to him, "Sir Thomas More, see here, the King sends you a pardon; abandon this opinion for which you are dying;" and he took out the King's great seal, and the people all hoped that the sainted More would be saved. But the Holy Ghost was within him, and he said these words, "Captain, in vain you strive, for the real pardon I hope for is that of my Lord Jesus Christ, who has the power, and before my eyes I see the real great seal, which is the five wounds of the Saviour. Let the headsman therefore do his duty." Then he captain told the executioner to behead him as he slighted the King's pardon. More asked for the headsman, and said to him, "Brother, give five strokes in honour of the Five Wounds," which he did. During the strokes the crowd said the name of Jesus, so his soul was thus accompanied. Verily, the King would have given a great treasure to have changed this More's purpose; but decreed it otherwise, that he might serve as an example to many others who in secret are good Christians and deplore the evil that exists in the land.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 26

How Anne Boleyn committed adultery and how it was found out.

Soon after the death of the sainted Queen Katharine, Anne Boleyn (age 35), who ostentatiously tried to attract to her service the best-looking men and best dancers to be found, heard that in the city of London there was a young fellow who was one of the prettiest monochord players and deftest dancers in the land. They told her he was the son of a poor carpenter, and she sent for him to play before her, asking him what his name was, to which he replied, "My lady, my name is Mark (age 24)." Then the Queen sent for her minions, amongst whom was one called Master Norris (age 54), and another Master Brereton, to whom the Queen showed great favour. She ordered Mark to play, Master Norris leading her out to dance, and Mark played some virginals so prettily, that while she was dancing she said to Norris, "What do you think of it, does not the lad play well?" and whilst they were passing near Mark, Norris answered gently, "Lady, I should well like him to play sometimes, if it were possible, when we are together." The Queen laughed, and Mark took notice of everything thbt passed. When that dance was finished, the Queen wanted to dance with Mark, and made one of her ladies play. So Mark danced with her; and he tripped it so well, and so gracefully, that she at once fell in love with him, and told him she wished him to live there. Mark fell on his knees and kissed her hand, and she ordered one hundred nobles to be given to him to buy clothes, and the next day Mark came all tricked out, looking like the son of a gentleman. He never left the palace, and the Queen persuaded the King to give him a salary of one hundred pounds, and from that time forward Anne always had Mark to play to her. One morning, when the Queen was in bed, she sent for Mark to play whilst she lay in bed, ordered her ladies to dance. They began dancing; and after a while, when Anne saw that they were becoming very merry, she ordered one of the ladies to play whilst the others danced. When she saw they were intoxicated with their dancing, she called Mark to her, and he fell on his knee by her bedside, and she had time to tell him that she was in love with him, whereupon he was much surprised; but being of a base sort, he gave ear to all the Queen said to him, forgetting, the sinner, that only two months before he was a poor fellow, and that the King had given him a good income, and might give him much more; so he answered, "Madam, I am your servant; you may command me." And the lady bade him keep it secret, and she would find means to compass her desires. Very few days after that the King went to Windsor, which is twenty-five miles from there, and stayed a fortnight before he came back; so Anne, seeing she had time, confided in an old woman of her chamber, who, as it afterwards turned out, knew the Queen's secrets; and this bad old woman, instead of putting obstacles in the way, said, "Leave it to me, Madam, I will find means to bring him to you whenever you want him." Anne was so enamoured that every hour seemed a year.

One night, whilst all the ladies were dancing, the old woman called Mark and said to him gently, go that none should overhear, "You must come with me;" and he, as he knew it was to the Queen's chamber he had to go, was nothing 10th. So she took him to an ante-chamber, where she and another lady slept, next to the Queen's room, and in this ante-chamber there was a closet like a store-room, where she kept sweetmeats, candied fruits, and other preserves which the Queen sometimes asked for. To conceal him more perfectly the old woman put him into this closet, and told him to stay there till she came for him, and to take great care he was not heard. Then she shut him up and returned to the great hall where they were dancing, and made signs to the Queen, who understood her, and, although it was not late, she pretended to be ill, and the dancing ceased. She then retired to her chamber with her ladies, whilst the old woman said to her, "Madam, when you are in bed and all the ladies are asleep, you can call me and ask for some preserves, which I will bring, and Mark shall come with me, for he is in the closet now."

The Queen went to bed and ordered all her ladies to retire to their respective beds, which were in an adjoining gallery like a refectory, and when they were all gone but the old lady and the lady who slept with her, she sent them off too. When she thought they would all be asleep, she called the old woman, and said, "Margaret, bring me a little marmalade." She called it out very loudly, so that the ladies in the gallery might hear as well as Mark, who was in the closet. The old woman went to the closet and made Mark undress, and took the marmalade to the Queen, leading Mark by the hand. The lady who was in the old woman's bed did not see them when they went out of the closet, and the old woman left Mark behind the Queen's bed, and said out loud, "Here is the marmalade, my lady." Then Anne said to the old woman, "Go along; go to bed."

As soon as the old woman had gone Anne went round to the back of the bed and grasped the youth's arm, who was all trembling, and made him get into bed. He soon lost his bashfulness, and remained that night and many others, so that in a short time this Mark flaunted out to such an extent that there was not a gentleman at court who was so fine, and Anne never dined without having Mark to serve her.

Here the devil was even with her, for as she formerly showed great favour to Mr. Norris and the other gentleman, Brereton, and forgot them as soon as Mark came into the field, these gentlemen were both grieved, each one for himself. Anne saw this, and called Master Norris to her, and spoke to him quietly, it is believed to tell him to go to her that night, for as Maik was expecting his usual summons from the old woman, she told him he could not go. AB Mark saw Anne speaking to Master Norris, and had heard what they had said on the former occasion, he suspected what was going on.

The next day Mark was called by the Queen and told to play whilst she summoned Brereton to dance with her, and it is suspected that on that night Brereton was invited to visit her, as Mark waited in vain to be called.

The next night the old woman called Mark, and he could not refrain from telling the Queen what was in his heart. Anne laughed at him, and as he saw she was deceiving him, he said no more; and that night the Queen gave him a purse full of gold pieces, and told him to get ready for the ridings on May-day, to which the King was I coming.

The next day Mark bought three of the best horses that could be found, and tricked himself out BO bravely, that there was no gentleman at Court who spent so much money either in arms, liveries for his servants, or trappings for his horses.

There was much jealousy of him, and many murmured to see him so smart and lavish. One of the Queen's household had some words with him, and Mark threatened him, which offended the gentleman very much; and Mark, being always suspicious of him, conveyed his suspicions to the Queen, who sent for the gentleman and said to him, "Thomas Percy," for that was his name, "I desire that there shall be no quarrelling with Mark, and if any annoyance is caused him I shall be very angry." Percy answered, "Madam, you are aware that I have served you for many years, and I will not be ill-used by one who only came yesterday." But the Queen ordered them to be good friends, and Percy could easily see that she bore great love for Mark; so he must needs go to Secretary Cromwell, and said to him, "I wish to speak to you." "Say what thou wishest, Percy," answered the Secretary, and then Percy said, "Your worship will know that it is hardly three months since Mark came to Court, and that he only has one hundred pounds salary from the King, of which he has only received a third, and he has just bought three horses that have cost him over five hundred ducats, as well as very rich arms and fine liveries for his servants for the day of the ridings, such as no gentleman at Court has been able to do, and many are wondering where he has got the money. I can tell you more, for I know that on many occasions he has been in the Queen's chamber, and your worship should look to it." Cromwell answered him, "Hold thy tongue, Percy, and keep this secret; when the King comes back I shall learn the truth; meanwhile keep your eyes open and see if you note any signs, and who speaks to Mark."

Percy did not forget it; and one night before the King returned the old woman called Mark whilst the ladies were dancing, and Percy was on the look-out, but Mark, seeing him watching, was clever enough to return to the dance instead of going with the old woman, so Percy discovered nothing that night. The next morning the Queen sent for Mark, and as soon as Percy knew that he was in the chamber he went to Secretary Cromwell and told him what he had seen the night before, and how he was now playing in the Queen's chamber. Cromwell said, "Hold thy tongue for the present, Percy; the King is coming tomorrow, and the next day is May-day, when the jousts will be held, and I will find out a way to discover the truth."1

Note 1. The writer, all through the incident, makes Mark Smeaton the principal figure, and there is no doubt that his account is an accurate reproduction of the popular impressions current in London at the time. I have not met elsewhere with so minute a relation of the circumstances of the miserable affair. How true or how false the allegations may have been must be now for ever surmise alone, but it is known that the so-called confession was wrung from the poor lad, Mark Smeaton, on a positive promise of pardon, and his subsequent execution was a convenient way of closing his mouth for ever against retractation or recantation. It is uncertain whether Sir Thomas Percy, who was beheaded in 1537, is referred to, or his brother Henry, Earl of Northumberland, whose betrothal to Anne before her marriage, and his continued love for her, brought his head into great danger, and whose fainting with emotion in court during the trial cast renewed suspicion upon him. If Northumberland IS referred to, it might well be that, still in love, though hopelessly, with Anne, he would be madly jealous of a low upstart Mark Smeaton, whom he suspected of receiving the favours of the Queen.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 27

01 May 1536. How Cromwell took Mark (age 24) to London and learnt from him what had happened

The night before they held the jousts the King came to Greenwich, and all the gentlemen were very gay, particularly Master Norris (age 54) and Master Brereton. On the day of the jousts, which was the 1st of May1, Cromwell was going to London and sent for Mark, and said, "Mark, come and dine with me, and after dinner we will return together." Mark, suspecting nothing, accepted the invitation; and when they arrived at Cromwell's house in London, before dinner, he took Mark by the hand and led him into his chamber, where there were six gentlemen of his, and as soon as he hod got him in the chamber he said, "Mark, I have wanted to speak to you for some days, and I have had no opportunity till now. Not only I, but many other gentlemen, have noticed that you are ruffing it very bravely of late. We know that four months ago you had nothing, for your father has hardly bread to eat, and now you are buying horses and arms, and have made showy devices and liveries such as no lord of rank can excel. suspicion has arisen either that you have stolen the money or that someone had given it to you, although it is a great deal for anyone to give unless it were the King or Queen, and the King has been away for a fortnight. I give you notice now that you will have to tell me the truth before you leave here, either by force or good-will."

Mark, understanding as soon as Cromwell began to speak that the affair was no joke, did not know what to say, and became confused. "You had better tell the truth willingly," said Cromwell; and then Mark said that the money had been lent to him; to which Cromwell answered, "How can that be, that the merchants lend so much money, unless on plate, gold, or revenue, and at heavy interest, whilst you have nothing to pledge except that chain you wear. I am sorry you will not tell what you know with a good grace."

Then he called two stout young fellows of his, and asked for rope and a cudgel, and ordered them to put the rope, which was full of knots, round Mark's head, and twisted it with the cudgel until Mark cried out, "Sir Secretary, no more, I will tell the truth," and then he said, "The Queen gave me the money." "Ah, Mark," said Cromwell, "I know the Queen gave you a hundred nobles, but what you have bought has cost over a thousand, and that is a great gift even for a Queen to servant of low degree such as you. If you do not tell me all the truth I swear by the life of the King I will torture you till you do." Mark replied, "Sir, I tell you truly that she gave it to me." Then Cromwell ordered him a few more twists of the cord, and poor Mark, overcome by the torment, cried out, "No more, Sir, I will tell you everything that has happened." And then he confessed all, and told everything as we have related it, and how it came to pass.

When the Secretary heard it he was terror-stricken, and asked Mark if he knew of anyone else besides himself who had relations with the Queen. Mark, to escape further torture, told all he had seen of Master Norris (age 54) and Brereton, and swore that he knew no more. Then Cromwell wrote a letter to the King, and sent Mark to the Tower2.

Note 1. May-day ie 01 May 1536.

Note 2. Lingard says that Brereton was arrested first, three days before, but the present Chronicle is probably correct.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 28

How Cromwell wrote to the King, and how the Queen and her gentlemen-in-waiting were arrested.

The Secretary at once wrote to the King, and sent Mark's confession to him by a nephew of his called Richard Cromwell, the letter being conceived as follows: "Your Majesty will understand that, jealous of your honour, and geeing certain things passing in your palace, I determined to investigate and discover the truth. Your Majesty will recollect that Mark has hardly been in your service four months and only has £100 salary, and yet all the Court notices his splendour, and that he has spent a large sum for these jousts, all of which has aroused suspicions in the minds of certain gentlemen, and I have examined Mark, who has made the confession which I enclose to your Majesty in this letter."

When the King read this confession his meal did not at all agree with him; but, like a valiant prince, he dissembled, and presently ordered his boat to be got ready, and went to Westminster. He ordered that the jousts should not be stopped, but when the festivities were over that Master Norris and Brereton, and Master Wyatt, should be secretly arrested and taken to the Tower. The Queen did not know the King had gone, and went to the balconies where the jousts were to be held, and asked where he was, and was told that he was busy.1

Presently came all the gentlemen who were to ride, and Master Norris and Brereton came, looking very smart, and their servants in gay liveries; but the Queen looked, and not seeing Mark, asked why he had not come out. She was told that he was not there, but had gone to London, and had not come back. So the jousts began, and Master Wyatt did better than anybody. This Master Wyatt2 was a very gallant gentleman, and there was no prettier man at Court than he was.

When the jousts were finished and they were disarming, the captain of the guard came and called Master Norris and Master Brereton, and said to them, "The King calls for you." So they went with him, and a boat being in waiting, they were carried off to the Tower without anyone hearing anything about it. Then Cromwell's nephew said to Master Wyatt, "Sir, the Secretary, my master, sends to beg you to favour him by going to speak with him, as he is rather unwell, and is in London." So Wyatt went with him.

It seems that the King sent to Cromwell to tell him to have Wyatt fetched in order to examine him. When they arrived in London Cromwell took Master Wyatt apart, and said to him, "Master Wyatt, you well know the great love have always borne you, and I must tell you that it would cut me to the heart if you were guilty in the matter of which I wish to speak." Then he told him all that had passed; and Master Wyatt was astounded, and replied with great spirit, "Sir Secretary, by the faith I owe to God and my King and lord, I have no reason to distrust, for I have not wronged him even in thought. The King well knows what I told him before he was married." Then Cromwell told him he would have to go to the Tower, but that he would promise to stand his friend, to which Wyatt answered, "I will go willingly, for as I am stainless I have nothing to fear." He went out with Richard Cromwell, and nobody suspected that he was prisoner; and when he arrived at the Tower Richard said to the captain of the Tower, "Sir Captain, Secretary Cromwell sends to beg you to do all honour to Master Wyatt." So the captain put him into a chamber over the door, where we will leave him, to say how the Queen and the Duke her brother were arrested.

Note 1. The King's sudden departure from the jousts has always been a mystery, and explanations have been sought in the picking up of Anne's handkerchief by Norris; but the writer of the Chronicle is evidently well informed on the subject, and probably gives the real reason.

Note 2. Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet. He died whilst proceeding to embark on an embassy in 1541. He was a famous Spanish scholar, as also was his unhappy son, the revolutionary leader, who was beheaded at the beginning of Mary's reign; and having regard to the friendly and flattering terms in which he is intentioned in the Chronicle, it would seem probable that the poet Wyatt, or his son, may have been the writer's informant.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 29

02 May 1536. How the Queen (age 35) and her brother the Duke (age 33) were arrested.

On the 2nd of May the captain of the guard with hundred halberdiers came to Greenwich in the King's great barge, and went to the Queen, and said to her, "My lady, the King has sent me for you;" and she, very much astonished, asked the captain where the King was. She was told he was at Westminster; and she at once got ready, and embarked with all her ladies, thinking she was to be taken to Westminster, but when she saw they stopped at the Tower, she asked whether the King was there. The captain of the Tower appeared, and the captain of the guard addressed him, saying, "I bring you here the Queen, whom the King orders you to keep prisoner, and very carefully guarded." Thereupon the captain took Anne by the arm, and she, as soon as she heard that she was a prisoner, exclaimed loudly in the hearing of many, "I entered with more ceremony the last time I came." They ordered two of her ladies to remain with her, and the rest to be taken to Westminster, and amongst them one very attractive, of whom we shall have to speak further on.1

Note 1. Probably a reference to Jane Seymour (age 27).

Arrest of George Boleyn02 May 1536 ... As soon as the King learnt that she was in the Tower, he ordered the Duke (age 33) [Note. a mistake for Viscount] her brother to be arrested, and taken thither, the old woman having already been taken.

02 May 1536. The King then wished the Queen to be examined, and he sent Secretary Cromwell, the Archbishop of Canterbury (age 46), the Duke of Norfolk (age 63), and the Chancellor (age 48), who were expressly ordered by the King to treat her with no respect or consideration. They desired the Archbishop to be spokesman, and he said these words to her, "Madam, there is no one in the realm, after my lord the King, who is so distressed at your bad conduct as I am, for all these gentlemen well know I owe my dignity to your good-will;" and Anne, before he could say any more, interrupted him with, "My lord Bishop, I know what is your errand; waste no more time; I have never wronged the King, but I know well that he is tired of me, as he was before of the good lady Katharine." Then the Bishop continued, "Say no such thing, Madam, for your evil courses have been clearly seen; and if you desire to read the confession which Mark has made, it will be shown to you." Anne, in a great rage, replied, "Go to! It has all been done as I say, because the King has fallen in love, as I know, with Jane Seymour (age 27), and does not know how to get rid of me. Well, let him do as he likes, he will get nothing more out of me; and any confession that has been made is false."

With that, as they saw they should extract nothing from her, they determined to leave; but before doing so the Duke of Norfolk said to her, "Madam, if it be true that the Duke1 your brother has shared your guilt, a great punishment indeed should be yours and his as well." To which she answered, "Duke, say no such thing; my brother is blameless; and if he has been in my chamber to speak with me, surely he might do so without suspicion, being my brother, and they cannot accuse him for that. I know that the King has had him arrested, so that there should be none left to take my part. You need not trouble to stop talking with me, for you will find out no more. "So they went away; and when they told the King how she had answered, he said, "She has a stout heart, but she shall pay for it;" ...

Note 1. The chronicler is in error in calling the Queen's brother Duke. He was, of course, Viscount Rochford.

02 May 1536 ... and he sent them to the Duke (age 33) [Note. a mistake for Viscount] to see how he would answer. To explain why the Duke had been arrested, it should be told that the King was informed that he had been seen on several occasions going in and out of the Queen's room dressed only in his night-clothes. When the gentlemen went to him, he said, "I do not know why the King has had me arrested, for I never wronged him in word or deed. If my sister has done so, let her bear the penalty." Then the Chancellor replied, "Duke, it was ground for suspicion that you should go so often to her chamber at night, and tell the ladies to leave you. It was a very bold thing to do, and you deserve great punishment." "But look you, Chancellor," answered the Duke, "even if I did go to speak with her sometimes when she was unwell, surely that is no proof that I was so wicked as to do so great crime and treason to the King." Then the Duke of Norfolk said, "Hold thy peace, Duke, the King's will must be done after all." So they left him, and presently put old Margaret to the torture, who told the whole story of how she had arranged that Mark and Master Norris and Brereton should all have access to the Queen unknown to each other. She was asked about Master Wyatt, but she said she had never even seen him speak to the Queen privately, but always openly, whereupon Secretary Cromwell was glad, for he was very fond of Master Wyatt.

So the gentlemen ordered the old woman1 to be burnt that night within the Tower, and they took her confession to the King; and the King ordered all the prisoners to be beheaded, and the Duke as well, so the next day the Duke, Master Norris, Brereton, and Mark were executed.

Note 1. Lady Wingfield; I can find no record, however, of her having been burnt in Tower, although her dying confession, of which a part only now remains, has always been considered the strongest proof of Anne's guilt.

Spanish Chronicle Chapter 30

17 May 1536. How the Duke, and Norris, and Brereton, and Mark were beheaded the next day1.

We have told how the old woman was ordered to be burned in the great courtyard of the Tower, and they made the Queen see it from an iron-barred window. She said, "Why do you grieve me so? I wish they would burn me with her." To which the keeper answered, "Madam, another death is reserved for you." I do not care for all the harm they can do me now," she said, "for they can never deny I was a crowned Queen, although I was a poor woman."

The next day they brought out the Duke (age 33) and the others, and it was a surprising sight to see the great crowd there was. There came with the culprits over five hundred halberdiers, and when the Duke ascended, a gentleman said to him, "My lord Duke if you have anything to say, you can say it." Then the Duke turned to the people and said in the hearing of many, "I beg you pray to God for me; for by the trial I have to pass through I am blameless, and never even knew that my sister was bad. Guiltless as I am, I pray God to have mercy upon my soul." Then he lay upon the ground with his head on the block, the headsman gave three strokes, and so died this poor Duke.

Then Master Norris mounted, and made a great long prayer; and then, turning to the people, he said, "I do not think any gentleman at Court owes more to the King than I do, and none have been more ungrateful and regardless of it than I have. I deserve the death they condemn me to, and worse still, and so I pray to God for mercy on my soul, and acknowledge the justice of my sentence." Then he cast himself on the ground, and was beheaded. The next was Brereton, who said nothing but "I have offended God and the King; pray for me," and he was executed.

The last was Mark, and he cried in a loud voice that all could hear, "Oh, woe is me! Only four months ago I was a poor man, and my good fortune raised me to better things, and would have lifted me higher still, but for the devil's tempting, and my inability to resist the pride which has been my undoing. I thought treason would never come to light, but I confess now I erred, and do not deserve so honourable a death as that which the King has ordered me. I ask pardon of God and the King, for I have wronged him more than any other, and I beg you, gentlemen, to pray to God for me;" and then he threw himself down and was beheaded; but before he died he said, "Gentlemen, I ask pardon of Master Percy, for he would have been killed if I had not been arrested, as I had set men on to murder him;" and fortunately Master Percy was there, and answered, "God pardon thee, Mark, as I pardon thee2."

The good Wyatt was witnessing all this from a window of the Tower, and all the people thought that he also was to be brought out and executed; but Wyatt that night wrote a letter to the King, and sent it to him by a cousin of his, which letter was as follows.

Note 1. Sir Henry Norris, Lord Rochford, William Brereton, Mark Smeaton, and Sir Francis Weston were beheaded on 17th May, 1536. The Chronicle makes no mention of Sir Francis Weston.

Note 2. Lingard positively asserts that Smeaton was hanged, and not beheaded; but quotes at length the letter of a Portuguese gentleman, then resident in London, to a friend in Lisbon, in which the account given of the affair agrees with the present Chronicle.

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How Master Wyatt (age 33) wrote a letter to the King, and how he was pardoned.

The night before the Duke and the others were led out to execution, the good Wyatt was assured that he would be spared; so he got some paper and ink and wrote the following to the King: "Your Majesty knows that before marrying Queen Anne you said to me, Wyatt, I am going to marry Anne Boleyn, what do you think of it? I told your Majesty then that you had better not do so, and you asked me why; to which I replied that she was a bad woman, and your Majesty angrily ordered me to quit your presence for two years. Your Majesty did not deign on that occasion to ask my reasons for saying what I did, and since I could not then give them by word of mouth, I will do so now in writing. One day, whilst Mistress Anne's father and mother were at the Court eight miles from Greenwich, where, as all the world knows, they were stationed, I took horse and went thither, arriving when Anne was already in bed. I mounted to her chamber, and as soon as she saw me she said, "Good God! Master Wyatt, what are you doing here at this hour?" I answered her, "Lady, a heart tormented as mine has been by yours for long past has urged me hither to ask for some consolation from one who has caused it so much pain." I approached her and kissed her, and she remained quiet and silent, and even to still greater familiarities she made no objection, when suddenly I heard a great stamping over the bed in which she slept, and the lady at once rose, slipped on a skirt, and went out by a staircase which led up behind the bed; I waited for her more than an hour, but when she came down she would not allow me to approach her.

"I cannot but believe that I was treated in the same way as a gentleman once was in Italy, who was as madly in love with a lady as I was, and was, by his good luck, brought to the same point, when he heard a stamping overhead, and the lady rose and went out; but the gentleman in question was wiser than I, for he very soon followed the lady upstairs, and found her in the arms of a groom, and I have no doubt I should have seen the same thing if I had been wise enough to follow her. A week after she was quite at my service, and if your Majesty had deigned to hear me when you banished me, I would have told you then what I write you now.1"

As soon as the King read this letter, he sent to the Tower to fetch Wyatt. He came into the King's presence and kissed his hand for his pardon, and the King said to him, "Wyatt, I am sorry I did not listen to thee when I was angry, but I was blinded by that bad woman." And thenceforth Master Wyatt was more beloved by the King than ever he had been. A few days afterwards he sent him as ambassador to the Emperor Charles V., where he served the King well, so there is no more to say about him.

Note 1. Wyatt and Anne had been neighbours and friends from infancy; and to her, when she first attracted the King's notice, he had addressed his famous sonnet, "Forget not yet," as a farewell. The reference to Boccacio's story seems to stamp this letter as genuine, as it would hardly be introduced or even known by a person of the scant erudition of the writer of the Chronicle, whilst it is quite what might be expected of an admirer and imitator of Italian literature, as Wyatt was. The unnecessary confession, however, hardly shows the poet in a very heroic or chivalrous light.

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19 May 1536. How Anne was beheaded, and what took place five days after the execution of the Duke and the others1.

The King ordered the Queen to be beheaded. He had sent a week before to St. Omer for a headsman who could cut off the head with sword instead of an axe, and nine days after they sent he arrived. The Queen was then told to confess, as she must die the next day, and she begged that she might be executed within the Tower, and that no foreigner should see her. So they erected the scaffold in the great courtyard of the Tower, and the next morning they brought her out. She would not confess, but showed a devilish spirit, and was as gay as if she was not going to die. When she arrived at the scaffold she was dressed in a night-robe of damask, with a red damask skirt, and a netted coif over her hair. This lady was very graceful, and had a long neck; and when she mounted the scaffold she saw on it many gentlemen, amongst them being the headsman, who was dressed like the rest, and not as executioner; and she looked around her on all sides to see the great number of people present, for although she was executed inside, there was a great crowd. They would not admit any foreigner, except one who had got in the night before, and who took good note of all that passed. And as the lady looked all round, she began to say these words, "Do not think, good people, that I am sorry to die, or that I have done anything to deserve this death. My fault has been my great pride, and the great crime I committed in getting the King to leave my mistress Queen Katherine for my sake, and I pray God to pardon me for it. I say to you all that everything they have accused me of is false, and the principal reason I am to die is Jane Seymour (age 27), as I was the cause of the ill that befell my mistress2."

The gentlemen would not let her say any more, and she asked which was the headsman. She was told that he would come presently, but that in the meanwhile it would be better for her to confess the truth and not be so obstinate, for she could not hope for pardon. She answered them, "I know I shall have no pardon, but they shall know no more from me." So seeing that she would not confess, the came and knelt before her, saying, "Madam, I crave your Majesty's pardon, for I am ordered to do this duty, and I beg you to kneel and say your prayers." So Anne knelt, but the poor lady only kept looking about her. The headsman, being still in front of her, said in French, "Madam, do not fear, I will wait till you tell me." Then she said, "You will have to take this coif off," and she pointed to it with her left hand. The sword was hidden under a heap of straw, and the man who was to give it to the headsman was told beforehand what to do; so, in order that she should not suspect, the headsman turned to the steps by which they had mounted, and called out, "Bring me the sword." The lady looked towards the steps to watch for the coming of the sword, still with her hand on her coif; and the headsman made a sign with his right hand for them to give him the sword, and then, without being noticed by the lady, he struck her head off on to the ground. And so ended this lady, who would never admit or confess the truth.

Her body was presently carried to the church within the Tower and buried, and a few days afterwards her father died of grief3 for the loss of her and the Duke. God pardon them!

Note 1. Anne was beheaded on the 19th of May, 1536.

Note 2. Constantyne, who was present, gives in his memoirs a report of Anne's speech not materially different from the above; but the Portuguese by Lingard, furnishes a much longer Constantyne says that Anne was dressed in black damask.

Note 3. He survived her more than two years.

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30 May 1536. How the King Married Jane Seymour (age 27)

A very few days after the execution of Anne, the King ordered his Council to be summoned, and said to them, "My lords, you know that Elizabeth was acknowledged as Princess, and my daughter Mary was disinherited. If I were to die without male heir there would be great dissensions in my kingdom, and I have, therefore, decided to marry. I bear much good-will towards Jane Seymour, and I beg you will approve of her for my wife." They all answered with one accord, "Let your Majesty do as you desire. We all consider her a worthy maiden, and we hope in God that your union will be fruitful and happy." No more was needed; and the next day he called the Archbishop of Canterbury, and in the presence of all he married Jane Seymour, and caused great festivities to be held. This good lady had been formerly a servant of Queen Katherine and in her heart always loved Madam Mary, her good daughter, so she begged of the King, as a boon that he would send for Madam Mary and treat her in a way suitable to her rank. The King sent for her at once more than thirty horsemen, who brought her back with great state to the palace; and when the good Queen heard of her arrival, she came out to the great hall to receive her, and embraced her and kissed her, and took her by the hand, not allowing her to kneel, and led her to her chamber. When the King heard of it he went to the Queen's chamber, and the good daughter knelt before him, and he gave her his blessing with tears in his eyes, saying, "My daughter, she who did you so much harm, and prevented me from seeing you for so long, has paid the penalty."

The King had not seen her for more than three years. The good Queen then knelt, and said to the King, "Your Majesty knows how bad Queen Anne was, and it is not fit that her daughter should be the Princess." So the King ordered it to be proclaimed that in future none should dare to call her Princess, but Madam Elizabeth.

The good Queen always had Madam Mary in her company, and when she left her chamber always led her by the hand. For this reason the Queen was much beloved by all, and the King showed great affection for his daughter Shortly afterwards the Queen became pregnant, and great rejoicings were held; and the King was advised that she had brothers who were gentlemen, one of them should be created Duke of Somerset, which was the title of the brother of Queen Anne. So he made the eldest brother Duke of Somerset, and to the other two grants of income were made, and of them we shall speak further on.

In due time, when the Queen was about to be delivered, they sent to London for processions to be made to pray God for a happy result, and after three days illness the most beautiful boy that ever was seen was born1. Very great rejoicings were held for his birth; but on the second day it was rumoured that the mother had died, which caused great sorrow. It was said that the mother had to be sacrificed for the child. I do not affirm this to be true, only that it was rumoured. The King sorrowed for this good lady more than he did for any other, and had her buried with great solemnity. The good lady was also deeply mourned by Madam Mary; and the King ordered that the should remain with her, and, until he married again, they remained in attendance on her, and treated her as if she were Queen.

Born at Hampton Court, 12th October, 1537.