my life. Then had he two chambers adjoining the gallery, the most commonly called the gilt chambers, wherein were set two broad and long tables, whereupon was set such abundance of plate of all sorts as was almost incredible to be believed, a great part being all of clear gold; and upon every table and cupboard where the plate was set, wore books importing every kind of plate, and every piece, with the contents and weight thereof."
Hampton Court Palace Wolsey had given to the king before; and the unavailing sacrifice which he now made amounted to 500,000 crowns, equal to half a million of our money.
Having delivered over his lordly abode, he descended, and entered his barge. He there found the Thames covered with boats full of people of all degrees, who were waiting to see him conveyed to the Tower, for such was the news which had flown from Court all over the city. But they were greatly disappointed to see his barge turn its prow up the river instead of downwards. He ascended to Putney, where he mounted his mule, and was sorrowfully riding up the hill when there came spurring after him Sir Henry Norris, one of the king's chamberlains, bringing him a ring which the king had taken from his own finger, and accompanied it by a comfortable message. Sir Henry delivered it, saying, "Therefore, take patience, for I trust to see you in a better estate than ever." At this unexpected and extraordinary occurrence, the cardinal, wholly overcome by his emotions, dismounted from his mule, fell on his knees in the road, and, pulling off his cap, fervently thanked God for such happy tidings. Then arising, he told Sir Henry that his message was worth half a kingdom; but that he had scarcely anything left but the clothes on his back, yet he found a small gold chain and crucifix, which he presented to him. He next lamented that he had no token of his gratitude to send to his sovereign, but recollecting himself, he said, "Stay, there is my fool that rides beside me. I beseech thee take him to Court, and give him to His Majesty. I assure you, for any nobleman's pleasure, he is worth a thousand pounds." But the poor fool was so attached to his master, that it required six stout yeomen to force him away, and carry him to the king.
On the 3rd of November, after the long intermission of seven years, a Parliament was called together. The main object of this unusual occurrence was to complete the ruin of Wolsey, and place it beyond the power of the king to restore him to favour—a circumstance of which the courtiers were in constant dread. The committee of the House of Lords presented to the king a string of no less than forty-four articles against the fallen minister, enumerating and exaggerating all his offences, and calling upon the monarch to take such order with him "that he should never have any power, jurisdiction, or authority hereafter, to trouble, vex, and impoverish the Commonwealth of this your realm, as he hath done heretofore, to the great hurt and damage of almost every man, high or low." This address was carried to the Commons for their concurrence; but there Thomas Cromwell, who by the favour of Wolsey had risen from the very lowest condition to be his friend and steward, and was now advanced to the king's service by the particular recommendation of the cardinal, attacked the articles manfully, and caused the Commons to reject them, as the members were persuaded that Cromwell was acting by suggestion of the king; which is very probable, for so far from Henry showing Cromwell any dislike for this proceeding, he continued to promote him, till he became his prime minister, and was created Earl of Essex.
The conduct of the king, moreover, towards the fallen man continued in other respects to keep alive his hopes, and fill his rivals with terror, who felt that if he were returned to power there was no safety for them. Wolsey found the episcopal house at Esher large, but almost destitute of furniture, or of any means of comfort or convenience. He found that neither his accommodation nor his funds would permit him to retain his retinue of attendants, and on the 5th of November he dismissed the greater part of them, amid floods of tears shed both by himself and them; for, with all his pride and injustice out of doors, he had been a kind master at home, and was greatly beloved by his servants. Some of the gentlemen who could support themselves refused to leave him. But when his servants were dismissed, the solitude of Esher Place was no peace. The struggle at Court was going violently on betwixt the king's deep and lingering affection for the cardinal and the resolve of Anne Boleyn and her relatives to make themselves safe against him. This state of things, therefore, produced a constant oscillation of favour and disfavour, gleams of sunshine and then denser gloom, which kept the unhappy man in a murderous alternation of spirit. One day, the 6th of November, the day after he had parted with his servants, and was very low, Sir John Russell came in great secrecy from the king, at Greenwich, bringing a most comfortable assurance that Henry was really not offended with him; and a few days after came Judge Shelley, demanding a formal and perpetual surrender of York Place, which was the property of the See of York, and the alienation of it illegal. In vain he represented that it was a sacrilegious act: he was obliged to comply. "Thus," says Cavendish, "my lord continued at Esher, daily receiving messages from the Court, some good and some bad, but more ill than good."
The design of Wolsey's enemies, we are told, was to drive him to some rash act, by which he should commit himself irrevocably with the king, or to wear him out by anxiety; and in this they nearly succeeded, for at Christmas he fell so dangerously ill that all about him believed him to be dying. This news once more roused all the slumbering regard of Henry for the cardinal. He instantly dispatched Dr. Butts, his own physician, to ascertain his real state; and on Butts reporting that he was dangerously ill, and that if he did not receive some comfort from His Majesty, he would be a dead man in four days, "God forbid," exclaimed the king, "that he should die, for I would not lose him for twenty thousand pounds. Go immediately to him and do your best for him." Nothing, replied the physician, would do him any good if the king did not send him a gracious message. On this, Henry took a ring from his finger, charged with a ruby on which his own picture was engraved, commanding the doctor to deliver it to him, and assure him that he was not offended with him in his heart, adding many kind expressions. At his request, Anne Boleyn also took
