Letters and Papers 1533. 09 Feb 1533. 142. A sentence is the sovereign and only remedy, and the Queen says that the King would not struggle against it, if only from fear of his subjects, who are not only well disposed to your Majesty and the Queen, but for the most part good Catholics, and would not live in excommunication and under an interdict. The King would, therefore, be forced to obey the sentence. If a tumult arose, I do not know if the Lady (age 32), who is hated by all the world, would escape with her life and jewels. If the Pope does not take care, and that soon, he will lose his authority here little by little, and his censures will not be regarded. Besides, the sentence could not come at a better time than now, when there is war with Scotland; for if, in consequence of the interdict, they could have no intercourse with Flanders and Spain, there would be such excitement against the King and his Council as never was before. Would not have written thus, as your Majesty knows the importance of affairs better than any one else, but the Queen commanded me to do so.

It appears clearly that the King only demands the remission of the cause to cause delay, and make it immortal; for while it was before the Cardinals here, he took no trouble to produce witnesses or instruments, but only insisted on a sentence, as the process must have ended in a sentence in his favor. What can he add now, except that he wishes to examine witnesses as to the consummation of the first marriage, for which there would be no reason to insist on the scheme proposed, as the Rota would grant demissoria to examine them here, if he wished?

As to what the Pope said to your Majesty, that if the King wished to appear at Rome, he would be heard, notwithstanding his previous contumacy, and his Holiness would be obliged to give him long delays:—this is true and reasonable, but, on the other hand, there is a point which the King well knows, and which counterbalances nearly everything else, as the King knows. It is this: if he appears and demands such things, he must first obey the brief. On this hangs the key of the whole matter.

To increase the Queen's suspicion that the sudden promotion of the archbishop of Canterbury was for the purpose of attempting something against her, she has recently been informed that the King boasted more than twice that, if the Pope did not grant what he sent Dr. Bonart to ask, who is going tomorrow, he would have his case tried directly the bulls arrived here. She has also heard that four days ago one of the King's chief councillors had assembled several doctors, both clerical and lay, and had proposed to them, on behalf of the King, that the opinion of all theologians was that if the first marriage was consummated, the second was null; and that to prove the consummation, besides the presumption the King had found an instrument, which he showed them, containing an assertion thereof by the King Catholic and the King's father. Having seen this, the whole company said that it only remained for the King to proceed to his purpose by the authority of the archbishop of Canterbury. Since the Queen heard of this, and of the King's joy since the Nuncio has begun to treat of the proposal already mentioned, she has been in the greatest perplexity, and yesterday sent me three messengers one after another, and today two, to urge me to send off the present courier, and write about these matters, as she could not do so herself in consequence of the perturbation of her spirits. The remedy would be for the Pope to defer the expedition of the bulls till the sentence is given or nearly given. I think pretext enough may be found to do this, or an express condition can be put in the bulls, or the form of oath which he has to take, not to hinder the affair. I have spoken to the Nuncio, who says he has previously informed the Pope, and has just done so again. If the Pope knew the report that was current here about the new Archbishop being a Lutheran, he would not be too hasty to admit and confirm him. I hear that he has taken into his service two priests who have several times preached against the Queen, in recompense of the certain danger they were in of being burnt, if it had not been for the lady's father.

Letters and Papers 1533. 09 Feb 1533. 142. After dinner the Nuncio came to tell me of the King's answer to him. The Nuncio was not asked to this assembly without a purpose (sans mistere). Perhaps it was intended to awe the prelates by showing them that the King has intelligence with the Pope; to change the opinion of the people about excommunication, or to make your Majesty and the Queen jealous.

Whenever the Nuncio has spoken with me, I have tried to find out what benefit, either public or private, can arise from the scheme he proposes; but he always in conclusion agrees with me, that the best and most sure way not only to settle this affair, but to remove all difficulties between the Princes, would be a speedy sentence. He says he has written thus to the Pope more than 1,000 times, but he is not listened to. Even if he had thought otherwise he would hardly have dared to say so, for previously he has always spoken in this manner. A fortnight ago he said that there was no other means of detaching the King from his connection with France, except the settlement of this affair, for his friendship with France is caused only by his expectation of support from them in this case. Reminded him of having said this; and he did not deny it; but he excuses his prosecution of this practice by his ignorance of the necessity and disposition of the affairs treated by your Majesty and the Pope.

One of the reasons for my suspicion that the Nuncio himself proposed this scheme is, that he has always been trying to find means that the cause might be decided elsewhere, saying to the King that the Pope had greater desire to be released from it than the King himself, and there was nothing in the world he would not do to be freed from the burden.

The repetition of such words by the Nuncio has made the King persist so obstinately in the remission of the cause, being sure that the Pope would help it as much as he could.

As I did not expect the scheme to take effect, I almost thought it better not to say anything about it to the Queen; but at the request of the Nuncio, who had heard that she had some inkling of it, I informed her of it at length, giving her good hopes and confidence, though there was no need of this, as she would not lose hope in anything that is passing through your Majesty's hands. On hearing of it, she was much astonished and vexed at the Pope, who, after keeping her waiting for three years and a half, instead of giving sentence, had begun a new practice to cause more delay, and make her die of grief, with the reputation of having lived as the King's concubine, leaving her daughter in continual perplexity and misery. Such means, she said, would not make matters better, but the reverse; for as long as the King has some remains of hope, he will not cease doing the worst he can against your Majesty, the Pope, and herself; and that to avoid so many evils, to say nothing of her own interest, she would not consent to such a proposal, unless indeed it was your Majesty's will. Even if the King promised to obey the brief, he would make her lead a worse life than before, and in a short time recall the Lady. She therefore begs your Majesty to urge the decision of her process, assuring you, as she knows the King better than any one else, that no war nor slander will result, but great good, both for your Majesty and herself; there would be no difficulty about the King's obeying it, and, even if there were, she would live and die consoled, when justice was declared for the discharge of her conscience and the assurance of the Princess's succession.

I think they are only entertaining this practice to gain time, and wait for an opportunity for obtaining from the Pope an absolute dispensation to marry again, without a process, which they say Lewis XI. and Ladislaus of Hungary had. I believe that if the King once gains the point of not being bound to appear at Rome, a most unreasonable demand, he (the Pope) will have less shame in granting the said dispensation by absolute power, as it is made out that the King's right is so evident, and if his Holiness will not grant this, instead of baffling the King, he will find the King more inimical than ever.

I do not know by what paths the Pope expects to lead the King and separate him from France, seeing what he has already done and continues to do against the authority of the Church, unless there has been some collusion between them. I think that as the King has already made some profit out of Church matters, and is now touched with avarice, considering also the persons he has about him, it will be difficult to prevent him treating his ecclesiastics badly without regarding the Holy See. The lady and her father, who are perfect Lutherans, abet him in this (le mectent en cecy), and the Pope must not think to have any influence over the King while the lady and the present Council reign, unless he will give the dispensation already mentioned.

Letters and Papers 1533. 09 Feb 1533. Vienna Archives. 142. Chapuys (age 43) to Charles V.

Wrote last on the 29th. Though the Nuncio was put off eight days for an answer, he returned to the duke of Norfolk (age 60) the day I wrote last, and was with him a long time, though he told me nothing of it. Early the next morning he went to Greenwich, and was nearly all day with the King and Council, going from one to the other. Heard of this from a servant of the Queen, and went to the Nuncio to find out the mystery; but he would not repeat what had passed, as he had been accustomed to do, and concealed having spoken to the King and Council. When I said to him that since he had been put off to a certain day for his answer, as the nature of these people is to go further back the more they are pressed, he might injure his business instead of advancing it, he replied that he was a poor gentleman, living by his service, and it was right for him to act thus. I do not quite understand what he meant by this, unless that he pretended he could mend the affair somehow (que ainsi faisant il pourroit a quelque fin que tombat l'affere amender de ceulx cy.) He says that for a year they have made him large offers, if he would favor the divorce. Could get nothing out of him but that he had gone to Greenwich to find the man who had fixed the term of eight days for his answer, and being there did not omit to visit the duke of Norfolk. It seems probable from this dissimulation that the Nuncio was the promoter of these practices. Yesterday morning the King sent for him to give him his answer, and to take him to Parliament. The King went by water, and during the journey praised the Nuncio for his conduct, and thanked him for the affection and goodwill which he showed to his service. He asked him not to take it in bad part, if he gave him no other answer about the proposal he had made to him; the reason was not distrust, but because it would be a useless waste of time, as the whole must be referred to the Pope, and he would send his ambassadors full instructions and powers. The Nuncio told him that as the affair would not admit of delay, if the instructions and powers were not in proper form the Pope would be constrained to proceed to the sentence; for this reason it would be well to communicate the whole to him, and to cause the Queen to send a similar power. To this the King would not consent. The Nuncio told him that if this agreement took effect he must recall the Queen, and treat her more cordially. The King replied that he had already given him an answer about this, and he would do nothing of the kind, and for good reasons, her disobedience and extreme severity to him.

Pepy's Diary. 09 Feb 1660. Thursday. Soon as out of my bed I wrote letters into the country to go by carrier to-day. Before I was out of my bed, I heard the soldiers very busy in the morning, getting their horses ready where they lay at Hilton's, but I knew not then their meaning in so doing: After I had wrote my letters I went to Westminster up and down the Hall, and with Mr. Swan walked a good [deal] talking about Mr Downing's (age 35) business. I went with him to Mr. Phelps's house where he had some business to solicit, where we met Mr. Rogers my neighbour, who did solicit against him and talked very high, saying that he would not for a £1000 appear in a business that Swan [Map] did, at which Swan was very angry, but I believe he might be guilty enough. In the Hall I understand how Monk (age 51) is this morning gone into London with his army; and met with Mr. Fage, who told me that he do believe that Monk (age 51) is gone to secure some of the Common-council of the City, who were very high yesterday there, and did vote that they would not pay any taxes till the House was filled up. I went to my office, where I wrote to my Lord after I had been at the Upper Bench, where Sir Robert Pye (age 75)¹ this morning came to desire his discharge from the Tower; but it could not be granted. After that I went to Mrs. Jem, who I had promised to go along with to her Aunt Wright's, but she was gone, so I went thither, and after drinking a glass of sack I went back to Westminster Hall, and meeting with Mr. Pierce the surgeon, who would needs take me home, where Mr. Lucy, Burrell, and others dined, and after dinner I went home and to Westminster Hall, where meeting Swan [Map] I went with him by water to the Temple [Map] to our Counsel, and did give him a fee to make a motion to-morrow in the Exchequer for Mr Downing (age 35). Thence to Westminster Hall, where I heard an action very finely pleaded between my Lord Dorset (age 37) and some other noble persons, his lady (age 38) and other ladies of quality being here, and it was about; £330 per annum, that was to be paid to a poor Spittal, which was given by some of his predecessors; and given on his side. Thence Swan [Map] and I to a drinking-house near Temple Bar, where while he wrote I played on my flageolet till a dish of poached eggs was got ready for us, which we eat, and so by coach home. I called at Mr. Harper's, who told me how Monk (age 51) had this day clapt up many of the Common-council, and that the Parliament had voted that he should pull down their gates and portcullisses, their posts and their chains, which he do intend to do, and do lie in the City all night. I went home and got some ahlum to my mouth, where I have the beginnings of a cancer, and had also a plaster to my boil underneath my chin.

Note 1. Sir Robert Pye (age 75), the elder, was auditor of the Exchequer, and a staunch Royalist. He garrisoned his house at Faringdon, which was besieged by his son (age 40), of the same names, a decided Republican, son-in-law to Hampden, and colonel of horse under Fairfax (age 48). The son, here spoken of, was subsequently committed to the Tower for presenting a petition to the House of Commons from the county of Berks, which he represented in Parliament, complaining of the want of a settled form of government. He had, however, the courage to move for an habeas corpus, but judge Newdigate decided that the courts of law had not the power to discharge him. Upon Monk's (age 51) coming to London, the secluded members passed a vote to liberate Pye, and at the Restoration he was appointed equerry to the King (age 29). He died in 1701. B.

Evelyn's Diary. 09 Feb 1665. Dined at my Lord Treasurer's, the Earl of Southampton (age 57), in Bloomsbury, where he was building a noble square or piazza, a little town; his own house stands too low, some noble rooms, a pretty cedar chapel, a naked garden to the north, but good air. I had much discourse with his Lordship (age 57), whom I found to be a person of extraordinary parts, but a valetudinarian.-I went to St James' Park [Map], where I saw various animals, and examined the throat of the Onocrotylus, or pelican, a fowl between a stork and a swan; a melancholy water-fowl, brought from Astrakhan by the Russian Ambassador; it was diverting to see how he would toss up and turn a flat fish, plaice, or flounder, to get it right into his gullet at its lower beak, which, being filmy, stretches to a prodigious wideness when it devours a great fish. Here was also a small water-fowl, not bigger than a moorhen, that went almost quite erect, like the penguin of America; it would eat as much fish as its whole body weighed; I never saw so unsatiable a devourer, yet the body did not appear to swell the bigger. The solan geese here are also great devourers, and are said soon to exhaust all the fish in a pond. Here was a curious sort of poultry not much exceeding the size of a tame pigeon, with legs so short as their crops seemed to touch the earth; a milk-white raven; a stork, which was a rarity at this season, seeing he was loose, and could fly loftily; two Balearian cranes, one of which having had one of his legs broken and cut off above the knee, had a wooden or boxen leg and thigh, with a joint so accurately made that the creature could walk and use it as well as if it had been natural; it was made by a soldier. The park was at this time stored with numerous flocks of several sorts of ordinary and extraordinary wild fowl, breeding about the Decoy, which for being near so great a city, and among such a concourse of soldiers and people, is a singular and diverting thing. There were also deer of several countries, white; spotted like leopards; antelopes, an elk, red deer, roebucks, stags, Guinea goats, Arabian sheep, etc. There were withy-pots, or nests, for the wild fowl to lay their eggs in, a little above the surface of the water.

Greville Memoirs. 09 Feb 1832. Yesterday I met Lord Grey and rode with him. I told him that the Tories were pleased at his speech about the Irish Tithes. He said 'he did not know why, for he had not said what he did with a view to please them.' I said because they looked upon it as an intimation that the old Protestant ascendency was to be restored. He rejected very indignantly that idea, and said he had never contemplated any ascendency but that of the law and the Government. I said I knew that, but that they had been so long used to consider themselves as the sole representatives of the law and the Government, that they took the assertion he had made as a notification that their authority was again to be exercised as in bygone times. He then asked me if I knew what Lord Harrowby had done, said he had spoken to him, that he was placed in a difficult position and did not know what to do. I said that Harrowby was exerting himself, that time was required to bring people round, that I had reason to believe Harrowby had made a great impression, but that most of the Peers of that party were out of town, and it was impossible to expect them on the receipt of a letter of invitation and advice to reply by return of post that they would abandon their leaders and their party, and change their whole opinions and course of action, that I expected the Archbishop and Bishop of London would go with him, and that they would carry the bench. He said the Bishop of London he had already talked to, that the Archbishop was such a poor, miserable creature that there was no dependence to be placed on him, that he would be frightened and vote any way his fear directed. Then he asked, how many had they sure? I said, 'At this moment not above eight Lords and eight bishops.' He said that was not enough. I said I knew that, but he must have patience, and should remember that when the Duke of Wellington brought the Catholic Bill into the House of Commons he had a majority on paper against him in the House of Lords of twenty-five, and he carried the Bill by a hundred. He said he should like to talk to Harrowby again, which I pressed him to do, and he said he would. I find Lord John Russell (age 39) sent for Sandon, and told him that he and the others were really anxious to avoid making Peers, and entreated him to get something done by his father and his associates as soon as possible, that there was no time to be lost, that he should not deny that he wished Peers to be made, not now, but after the Reform Bill had passed. I called on Lord Harrowby in the afternoon, and found him half dead with a headache and dreadfully irritable. Letters had come (which he had not seen) from Lord Bagot refusing, Lord Carteret ditto, and very impertinently, and Lord Calthorpe adhering. I told him what had passed between Lord Grey and me. He said their insolence had been hitherto so great in refusing to listen to any terms (at the meeting of the six), and in refusing every concession in the House of Commons and not tolerating the slightest alteration, that he despaired of doing anything with them, that Lord Grey had told him he could not agree to make a sham resistance in Committee, but that he on the other hand would not agree to go into Committee, except on an express understanding that they should not avail themselves of the probable disunion of the Tories to carry all the details of their Bill. The difficulties are immense, but if Grey and Harrowby get together, it is possible something may be done, provided they will approach each other in a spirit of compromise. It is certainly easier now, and very different from the House of Commons, where I have always thought they could make no concession. In the House of Lords they may without difficulty. I dread the obstinate of both parties.

The Diary of George Price Boyce 1855-1857. 09 Feb 1857. Brighton, February 9, 1857.

My Dear Allingham,

At the very time you were writing to me "How happy you travellers are, How I envy you !" your humble servant was lying on his bed at Giornico suffering the consequences of an innocent bit of fun, namely, scrambling over a wall and giving chase to a trio of country lasses who were wont to come and sit by me as I worked, and sing quaint ditties of the country to me. In the excitement of the moment I quite forgot my first nine months lying up some 5 or 6 years ago from an injury to the same part (the hip joint) by overwalking and skating, or should not at this very time be still paying the penalty of my folly. For, in fact, after resting and breaking off my work at Giornico and following professional advice in Paris for a month without benefit, I have at length been obliged to come down to this miserable place, accompanied by my sister as nurse, and put myself under my old doctor, Harrap (a quack as the faculty chooses to call him) who so wonderfully set me on my legs the first time. You will easily conceive what a sore trial this is to me, fond as I am of independence and freedom of movement. For in addition to lameness, comparative helplessness and expense, there's the thought of my lost season and the work neglected and neglecting to harass me. For five months I've scarcely touched a brush or pencil, and it's impossible to say when I shall be able to take to either vigorously again. All is not, you see, coulear de rose with us artist ramblers. There's poor Seddon, whom we have lost altogether, dying away from his wife and relatives in Cairo; and young Herbert; a painter of promise, cut off in the Auvergne. I hope in the meanwhile you have been blessed with good health and spirits, and that these have found vent occasionally in song of your own genuine quiet stamp. The "mowers" came very acceptably, and set the sharp scythe swiftly sweeping in my mind's ear and eve.

I should like you to have seen the chestnut harvest, and, especially, the vintage, at Giornico. The vines are not those ugly, short, stiff, monotonous things tied to sticks, that one meets with in France or by the Rhine, but free and full and forming a canopy of green and purple at a man's height from the ground, extending often many acres without interruption. You may in some measure conceive the effect of such a vineyard in vivid sunlight, the leaves and fruit glowing greeny-gold and crimson with transmitted light, tempered by the grey bloom and white lustre of their upper surfaces, and the network of flickering light and shadow on the supports and grass beneath; and then, giving wonderful life to the picture, the varied groups of vintagers from the hills and villages about, with their blue skirts and white shirt sleeves tucked up, their heads covered with scarlet and many-coloured fichus upturned, and their bare arms and hands, wine-stained, uplifted picking the purple pendants in the golden chequered light and flood of warm autumnal air. In fine contrast to this were the same vineyards looked at from above, at the commencement of a storm, when the big, heavy drops, heard afar off in their coming, began pattering loud upon the floor of leaves extending almost across the valley, and the fitful gusts of wind swooping over this green pavement came bristling it into hurrying spaces of shivering grey. Of course there was no painting either the oneor the other, even had I been in the cue. I passed the Simplon as late as the 8th November (though lingering at Giornico in hope of convalescence) the day before the snow.

The valley of Domo d'Ossola, as we entered it from the Maggiore lake by a deeply coloured sunset was magnificent. The groups of red-lit peaks seemed to be literally playing like flame along the green and profoundly quiet sky into which they almost melted. The glowing sunset gave gradual place as we approached the summit of the pass to misty moonlight which added mystery and awe to sublimity and loveliness. As the grey and bitterly cold dawn broke, we were passing through a dreary region of peaked granite snow and ice; and then gradually stole into view the colossal range of the Bernese Oberland with the glaciers at its roots stretching away inexpressibly grand and desolate till lost in the falling snow, mist or drizzle, which rendered all its forms doubly huge and ghostly. Then at Briegg commenced the wonderful valley of the Rhone, in which is the picturesque and characteristic town of Sion-N'lartigny, where I stayed a night.

With the gorge of the Trient, with the Lake of Geneva studded as it is—or rather as its banks are—with white houses and hotels ; and seeing it as I did in so late and dreary a season with the higher mountains cloud covered; I was much disappointed. Equally so with Chillon, Vevey, Clarens and Geneva themselves. Lausanne, I thought, was the only place on the northern bank I would care at all to stay at.

Between Seyssel and Lyons I noted in the grey twilight glimmer some very unusual interesting scenery. Long narrow treeless defiles with continuous jutting beds or string courses of rock along the sides with sloping debris at the bottom, room enough only for the road and small lakes here and there. Would you believe it, a railway embankment was being jammed into this ravine and smack through the little lakes, which will in consequence be nearly choked up, and the whole scene ruined, to a painter's eye at least. It's for you poets to "point the moral" and show us what we gain by all this—that's to say wishing to get over the ground so fast. I believe, but can't see, that all's working for good.

Your references to Tennyson and Browning were very interesting. What wonderful things there are in "Nlen and Women' '—especially ' 'In a Year," "Fra Lippo Lippi," that letter from the Arab student, and "Blougram." What I've read of "Aurora Leigh" I don't like nearly as much as these.

I didn't meet Ruskin (age 38) abroad. By a letter just received from my friend Warren, I find he (Ruskin) was present at the meeting at Hunt's about poor Seddon's works and spoke very feelingly and sympathisingly.

Rossetti (age 28), I hear, is hard at work on the Tennyson illustrations. I know nothing of what the rest of the brotherhood are doing.

I am very glad that "Anstis Cove" continues to please. It is so much more than I dare to hope for my drawings in general. I am anxious to know—as you don't refer to it—that you found the little spring sketch I promised you of a favourite valley in N. Wales, when you opened the case containing the larger drawing. Although slight, and done in 2 or 3 hours I think it's as truthful, as far as it goes, as the other, and that you would get to like it also. It was done on the spot. I put it loose into the case.

It's time I brought this jobation to a close. I shall be glad of a few lines when you can manage it.

Yours very truly,

George P. Boyce.