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HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT 
 OR, CATHARINE PARR 
 
 <&n Qw'mkai Km>*l 
 
 .n^IoS son i! ^A6flP 
 
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Meeting of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. 
 
 Photogravure from a painting by C. F. Folingsby. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT 
 OR, CATHARINE PARR 
 
 » 
 
 <2tn ^ietorital N«>*i 
 
 BY 
 
 L. MOHLBACH , h^t^J > 
 
 AUTHOR OF FREDERICK THB GREAT AND HIS COURT, JOSEPH IL AMD HIS COURT, 
 MERCHANT OF BERLIN, ETC. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN, BY 
 
 Rev. H. N. PIERCE, D. D. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE McCLURE CO. 
 
 MCMX 
 
Bt s. h. goetzel. 
 
 Coptkight, 1867, 
 BT D. APPLETON AND COMPANY; 
 
 6if+ of 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. — Choosing a Confessor 1 
 
 II.— The Queen and her Friend ... . . .10 
 
 III.— King Henry the Eighth 20 
 
 IV.— King by the Wrath of God 29 
 
 V.— The Rivals 41 
 
 VI. — The Intercession . . . . . . . 51 
 
 VII.— Henry the Eighth and his Wives . . . .55 
 
 VIII.— Father and Daughter 73 
 
 IX. — Lendemain 86 
 
 X.— The King's Fool 91 
 
 XL— The Ride 102 
 
 XII.— The Declaration 109 
 
 XIIL— "Le Roi s'ennuit" 120 
 
 XIV.— The Queen's Friend 130 
 
 XV.— John Hey wood 141 
 
 XVI.— The Confidant 148 
 
 XVII. — Gammer Gurton's Needle 159 
 
 XVIII.— Lady Jane 170 
 
 XIX. — Loyola's General . . 178 
 
 XX.— The Prisoner 185 
 
 XXL— Princess Elizabeth 198 
 
 XXII. —Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey 213 
 
 XXIII. —Brother and Sister .... .. 219 
 
 XJ**.— The Queen's Toilet , « , . ' . 230 
 
 M 1593 
 
iv HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXV.— The Queen's Rosette 250 
 
 XXVI.— Revenge 273 
 
 XXVII.— The Acknowledgment 282 
 
 XXXIII.— Intrigues 294 
 
 XXIX.— The Accusation 302 
 
 XXX.— The Feast of Death 316 
 
 XXXI.— The Queen 323 
 
 XXXII.— Undeceived 347 
 
 XXXIII.— New Intrigues 865 
 
 XXXIV.— The King and the Priest 373 
 
 XXXV.— Chess-Play 387 
 
 XXXVI.— The Catastrophe 407 
 
 XXXVII.— "Le Roi est Mort— Vive la Reiner ... 420 
 
HENRY VIII, AND HIS COURT. 
 
 CHAPTEE L, • 
 
 CHOOSING A CONFESSOR. 
 
 It was in the year 1543. King Henry the Eighth of 
 England that day once more pronounced himself the hap- 
 piest and most enviable man in his kingdom, for to-day 
 he was once more a bridegroom, and Catharine Parr> the 
 youthful widow of Baron Latimer, had the perilous happi- 
 ness of being selected as the king's sixth consort. 
 
 Merrily chimed the bells of all the steeples of London, 
 announcing to the people the commencement of that holy 
 ceremony which sacredly bound Catharine Parr to the king- 
 as his sixth wife. The people, ever fond of novelty and 
 show, crowded through the streets toward the royal palace 
 to catch a sight of Catharine, when she appeared at her 
 husband's side upon the balcony, to show herself to the 
 English people as their queen, and to receive their homage 
 in return. 
 
 Surely it was a proud and lofty success for the widow 
 of a petty baron to become the lawful wife of the King of 
 England, and to wear upon her brow a royal crown! But 
 yet Catharine Parr's heart was moved with a strange fear, 
 her cheeks were pale and cold, and before the altar her 
 closely compressed lips scarcely had the power to part, and 
 pronounce the binding " I will" 
 
 At last the sacred ceremony was completed. The two 
 spiritual dignitaries, Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, and 
 
 1 
 
2 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, then, in accordance 
 with court etiquette, led the young bride into her apart- 
 ments, in order to bless them, and once more to pray with 
 her, before the worldly festivities should begin. 
 
 Catharine, however, pale and agitated, had yet sus- 
 tained her part in the various ceremonies of the day with 
 a true queenly bearing and dignity; and, as now with head 
 proudly erect and firm step, she walked with a bishop at 
 either side through the splendid apartments, no one sus- 
 pected how heavy, a burden weighed upon her heart, and 
 what baleful -voices were whispering in her breast. 
 
 Followed by her new court, she had traversed with her 
 companions the state apartments, and now reached the 
 inner rooms. Here, according to the etiquette of the time, 
 she must dismiss her court, and only the two bishops and 
 her ladies of honor were permitted to accompany the queen 
 into the drawing-room. But farther than this chamber 
 even the bishops themselves might not follow her. The 
 king himself had written down the order for the day, and 
 he who swerved from this order in the most insignificant 
 point would have been proclaimed guilty of high treason, 
 and perhaps have been led out to death. 
 
 Catharine, therefore, turned with a languid smile to 
 the two high ecclesiastics, and requested them to await 
 here her summons. Then beckoning to her ladies of honor, 
 she withdrew into her boudoir. 
 
 The two bishops remained by themselves in the draw- 
 ing-room. The circumstance of their being alone seemed 
 to impress them both alike and unpleasantly; for a dark 
 scowl gathered on the brows of both, and they withdrew, as 
 if at a concerted signal, to the opposite sides of the spacious 
 apartment. 
 
 A long pause ensued. Nothing was heard save the 
 regular ticking of a large clock of rare workmanship which 
 stood over the fireplace, and from the street afar off, the 
 rejoicing of the people, who surged toward the palace like 
 a roaring sea. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 3 
 
 Gardiner had stepped to the window, and was looking 
 lip with his peculiar dark smile at the clouds which, driven 
 by the tempest, were sweeping across the heavens. 
 
 Cranmer stood by the wall on the opposite side, and 
 sunk in sad thoughts, was contemplating a large portrait 
 of Henry the Eighth, the masterly production of Holbein. 
 As he gazed on that countenance, indicative at once of so 
 much dignity and so much ferocity; as he contemplated 
 those eyes which shone with such gloomy severity, those 
 lips on which was a smile at once voluptuous and fierce, 
 there came over him a feeling of deep sympathy with 
 the young woman whom he had that day devoted to such 
 splendid misery. He reflected that he had, in like man- 
 ner, already conducted two wives of the king to the mar- 
 riage altar, and had blessed their union. But he reflected, 
 too, that he had also, afterward, attended both these 
 queens when they ascended the scaffold. 
 
 How easily might this pitiable young wife of the king 
 fall a victim to the same dark fate! How easily might 
 Catharine Parr, like Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard, 
 purchase her short-lived glory with an ignominious death! 
 At any time an inconsiderate word, a look, a smile, might 
 be her ruin. For the king's choler and jealousy were incal- 
 culable, and, to his cruelty, no punishment seemed too 
 severe for those by whom he fancied himself injured. 
 
 Such were the thoughts which occupied Bishop Cran- 
 mer. They softened him, and caused the dark wrinkles to 
 disappear from his brow. 
 
 He now smiled to himself at the ill-humor which he 
 had felt shortly before, and upbraided himself for having 
 been so little mindful of his holy calling, and for having 
 exhibited so little readiness to meet his enemy in a con- 
 ciliating spirit. 
 
 For Gardiner was his enemy: that Cranmer very well 
 knew. Gardiner had often enough showed him this by his 
 deeds, as he had also taken pains by his words to assure 
 him of his friendship. 
 
4 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 But even if Gardiner hated him, it did not therefore 
 follow that Cranmer was obliged to return that hatred; 
 that he should denominate him his enemy, whom he, in 
 virtue of their mutual high calling, was bound to honor 
 and love as his brother. 
 
 The noble Cranmer was, therefore, ashamed of his mo- 
 mentary ill-humor. A gentle smile lighted up his peaceful 
 countenance. With an air at once dignified and friendly, 
 he crossed the room and approached the Bishop of Win- 
 chester. 
 
 Lord Gardiner turned toward him with morose looks,, 
 and, without advancing from the embrasure of the window 
 in which he was standing, waited for Cranmer to advance 
 to him. As he looked into that noble, smiling countenance,, 
 he had a feeling as if he must raise his fist and dash it 
 into the face of this man, who had the boldness to wish 
 to be his equal, and to contend with him for fame and 
 honor. 
 
 But he reflected in good time that Cranmer was still 
 the king's favorite, and therefore he must proceed to work 
 against him with great caution. 
 
 So he forced these fierce thoughts back into his heart,, 
 and let his face again assume its wonted grave and impene- 
 trable expression. 
 
 Cranmer now stood close before him, and his bright,, 
 beaming eye was fixed upon Gardiner's sullen countenance. 
 
 " I come to your highness," said Cranmer, in his gentle, 
 pleasant voice, " to say to you that I wish with my whole 
 heart the queen may choose you for her confessor and 
 spiritual director, and to assure you that, should this be the 
 case, there will not be in my soul, on that account, the 
 least rancor, or the slightest dissatisfaction. I shall fully 
 comprehend it, if her majesty chooses the distinguished 
 and eminent Bishop of Winchester as her confessor, and 
 the esteem and admiration which I entertain for you can 
 only be enhanced thereby. In confirmation of this, permit 
 me to offer you my hand." 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 5 
 
 He presented his hand to Gardiner, who, however, took 
 it reluctantly and but for a moment. 
 
 "Your highness is very noble, and at the same time 
 a very subtle diplomatist, for you only wish in an adroit 
 and ingenious way to give me to understand how I am 
 to act should the queen choose you for her spiritual di- 
 rector. But that she will do so, you know as well as I. It 
 is, therefore, for me only a humiliation which etiquette 
 imposes when she compels me to stand here and wait to 
 see whether I shall be chosen, or contemptuously thrust 
 aside." 
 
 "Why will you look at matters in so unfriendly a 
 light?" said Cranmer, gently. "Wherefore will you con- 
 sider it a mark of contempt, if you are not chosen to an 
 office to which, indeed, neither merit nor worthiness can 
 call us, but only the personal confidence of a young 
 woman? " 
 
 "Oh! you admit that I shall not be chosen?" cried 
 Gardiner, with a malicious smile. 
 
 " I have already told you that I am wholly uninformed 
 as to the queen's wish, and I think it is known that the 
 Bishop of Canterbury is wont to speak the truth." 
 
 " Certainly that is known, but it is known also that 
 Catharine Parr was a warm admirer of the Bishop of Can- 
 terbury; and now that she has gained her end and become 
 queen, she will make it her duty to show her gratitude 
 to him." 
 
 "You would by that insinuate that I have made her 
 queen. But I assure your highness, that here also, as in 
 so many other matters which relate to myself, you are 
 falsely informed." 
 
 " Possibly! " said Gardiner, coldly. " At any rate, it 
 is certain that the young queen is an ardent advocate of 
 the abominable new doctrine which, like the plague, has 
 spread itself from Germany over all Europe, and scattered 
 mischief and ruin through all Christendom. Yes, Catha- 
 rine Parr, the present queen, leans to that heretic against 
 
6 HENEY VIII.. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 I 
 
 whom the Holy Father at Eome has hurled his crushing 
 anathema. She is an adherent of the Ke formation." 
 
 " You forget," said Cranmer, with an arch smile, * that 
 this anathema was hurled against the head of our king 
 also, and that it has shown itself equally ineffectual against 
 Henry the Eighth as against Luther. Besides, I might re- 
 mind you that we no longer call the Pope of Eome, i Holy 
 Father/ and that you yourself have recognized the king as 
 the head of our church." 
 
 Gardiner turned away his face in order to conceal the 
 vexation and rage which distorted his features. He felt 
 that he had gone too far, that he had betrayed too much 
 of the secret thoughts of his soul. But he could not always 
 control his violent and passionate nature; and however 
 much a man of the world and diplomatist he might be, 
 still there were moments when the fanatical priest got 
 the better of the man of the world, and the diplomat was 
 forced to give way to the minister of the church. 
 
 Cr&nmer pitied Gardiner's confusion, and, following the 
 native goodness of his heart, he said pleasantly: " Let us 
 not strive here about dogmas, nor attempt to determine 
 whether Luther or the pope is most in the wrong. We 
 stand here in the chamber of the young queen. Let us, 
 therefore, occupy ourselves a little with the destiny of this 
 young woman whom God has chosen for so brilliant a lot." 
 
 "Brilliant?" said Gardiner, shrugging his shoulders. 
 " Let us first wait for the termination of her career, and 
 then decide whether it has been brilliant. Many a queen 
 before this has fancied that she was resting on a couch of 
 myrtles and roses, and has suddenly become conscious that 
 she was lying on a red-hot gridiron, which consumed her." 
 
 "It is true," murmured Cranmer, with a slight shud- 
 der, " it is a dangerous lot to be the king's consort But 
 just on that account let us not make the perils of her posi- 
 tion still greater, by adding to them our own enmity and 
 hate. Just on that account I beg you (and on my part I 
 pledge you my word for it) that, let the choice of the queen 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 7 
 
 be as it may, there may be no feeling of anger, and no 
 desire for revenge in consequence. My God, the poor 
 women are such odd beings, so unaccountable in their 
 wishes and in their inclinations! " 
 
 " Ah ! it seems you know the women very intimately," 
 cried Gardiner, with a malicious laugh. " Verily, were you 
 not Archbishop of Canterbury, and had not the king pro- 
 hibited the marriage of ecclesiastics as a very grave crime, 
 •one might suppose that you had a wife yourself, and had 
 gained from her a thorough knowledge of female char- 
 acter." 
 
 Cranmer, somewhat embarrassed, turned away, and 
 seemed to evade Gardiner's piercing look. "We are not 
 speaking of myself," said he at length, "but of the young 
 queen, and I entreat for her your good wishes. I have 
 seen her to-day almost for the first time, and have never 
 spoken with her, but her countenance has touchingly 
 impressed me, and it appeared to me, her looks besought 
 us to remain at her side, ready to help her on this diffi- 
 cult pathway, which five wives have already trod before 
 her, and in which they found only misery and tears, dis- 
 grace, and blood." 
 
 " Let Catharine beware then that she does not forsake 
 the right way, as her five predecessors have done ! " ex- 
 claimed Gardiner. " May she be prudent and cautious, 
 and may she be enlightened by God, that she may hold the 
 true faith, and have true wisdom, and not allow herself to 
 be seduced into the crooked path of the godless and 
 heretical, but remain faithful and steadfast with those of 
 the true faith! " 
 
 " Who can say who are of the true faith? " murmured 
 Cranmer, sadly. " There are so many paths leading to 
 heaven, who knows which is the right one ? " 
 
 " That which ice tread! " cried Gardiner, with all the 
 overweening pride of a minister of the church. " Woe to 
 the queen should she take any other road! Woe to her if 
 she lends her ear to the false doctrines which come ringing 
 
8 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 over here from Germany and Switzerland, and in the 
 worldly prudence of her heart imagines that she can rest 
 secure! I will be her most faithful and zealous servant, if 
 she is with me; I will be her most implacable enemy if she 
 is against me." 
 
 "And will you call it being against you, if the queen 
 does not choose you for her confessor? " 
 
 " Will you ask me to call it, being for me? " 
 
 " Now God grant that she may choose you! " exclaimed 
 Cranmer, fervently, as he clasped his hands and raised his 
 eyes to heaven. " Poor, unfortunate queen! The first 
 proof of thy husband's love may be thy first misfortune! 
 Why gave he thee the liberty of choosing thine own spirit- 
 ual director? Why did he not choose for thee? " 
 
 And Cranmer dropped his head upon his breast, and 
 sighed deeply. 
 
 At this instant the door of the royal chamber opened, 
 and Lady Jane, daughter of Earl Douglas, and first maid of 
 honor to the queen, made her appearance on the threshold. 
 
 Both bishops regarded her in breathless silence. It was 
 a serious, a solemn moment, the deep importance of which 
 was very well comprehended by all three. 
 
 " Her majesty the queen," said Lady Jane, in an agi- 
 tated voice, "her majesty requests the presence of Lord 
 Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, in her cabinet, in 
 order that she may perform her devotions with him." 
 
 "Poor queen!" murmured Cranmer, as he crossed the 
 room to go to Catharine — "poor queen! she has just made 
 an implacable enemy." 
 
 Lady Jane waited till Cranmer had disappeared through 
 the door, then hastened with eager steps to the bishop of 
 Winchester, and dropping on her knee, humbly said, 
 " Grace, your highness, grace ! My words were in vain, and 
 were not able to shake her resolution." 
 
 Gardiner raised up the kneeling maiden, and forced a 
 smile. " It is well," said he, " I doubt not of your zeal. 
 You are a true handmaid of the church, and she will love 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 9 
 
 and reward j 7 ou for it as a mother! It is then decided. 
 The queen is " 
 
 " Is a heretic/' whispered Lady Jane. " Woe to her! " 
 
 " And will you be true, and will you faithfully adhere 
 to us?" 
 
 " True, in every thought of my being, and every drop 
 of my heart's blood." 
 
 " So shall we overcome Catharine Parr, as we overcame 
 Catharine Howard. To the block with the heretic! We 
 found means of bringing Catharine Howard to the scaffold; 
 you, Lady Jane, must find the means of leading Catharine 
 Parr the same way." 
 
 " I will find them," said Lady Jane, quietly. " She 
 loves and trusts me. I will betray her friendship in order 
 to remain true to my religion." 
 
 " Catharine Parr then is lost," said Gardiner, aloud. 
 
 "Yes, she is lost," responded Earl Douglas, who had 
 just entered, and caught the last words of the bishop. 
 "Yes, she is lost, for we are her inexorable and ever- 
 vigilant enemies. But I deem it not altogether prudent to 
 utter words like these in the queen's drawing-room. Let 
 us therefore choose a more favorable hour. Besides, your 
 highness, you must betake yourself to the grand reception- 
 hall, where the whole court is already assembled, and now 
 only awaits the king to go in formal procession for the 
 young queen, and conduct her to the balcony. Let us go, 
 then." 
 
 Gardiner nodded in silence, and betook himself to the 
 reception-hall. 
 
 Earl Douglas with his daughter followed him. " Catha- 
 rine Parr is lost," whispered he in Lady Jane's ear. " Cath- 
 arine Parr is lost, and you shall be the king's seventh wife." 
 
 Whilst this was passing in the drawing-room, the young 
 queen was on her knees before Cranmer, and with him 
 sending up to God fervent prayers for prosperity and peace. 
 Tears filled her eyes, and her heart trembled as if before 
 some approaching calamity. 
 2 
 
10 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE QUEEN" AND HER FRIEND. 
 
 At last this long day of ceremonies and festivities drew 
 near its close, and Catharine might soon hope to be, for 
 the time, relieved from this endless presenting and smiling, 
 from this ever-renewed homage. 
 
 At her husband's side she had shown herself on the 
 balcony to receive the greetings of the people, and to bow 
 her thanks. Then in the spacious audience-chamber her 
 newly appointed court had passed before her in formal pro- 
 cession, and she had exchanged a few meaningless, friendly 
 words with each of these lords and ladies. Afterward she 
 had, at her husband's side, given audience to the deputa- 
 tions from the city and from Parliament. But it was only 
 with a secret shudder that she had received from their 
 lips the same congratulations and praises with which the 
 authorities had already greeted five other wives of the king. 
 
 Still she had been able to smile and seem happy, for 
 she well knew that the king's eye was never off of her, and 
 that all these lords and ladies who now met her with such 
 deference, and with homage apparently so sincere, were yet, 
 in truth, all her bitter enemies. For by her marriage she 
 had destroyed so many hopes, she had pushed aside so many 
 who believed themselves better fitted to assume the lofty 
 position of queen! She knew that these victims of disap- 
 pointment would never forgive her this; that she, who was 
 but yesterday their equal, had to-day soared above them 
 as queen and mistress; she knew that all these were watch- 
 ing with spying eyes her every word and action, in order, 
 it might be, to forge therefrom an accusation or a death- 
 warrant. 
 
 But nevertheless she smiled! She smiled, though she 
 felt that the choler of the king, so easily kindled and so 
 cruelly vindictive, ever swung over her head like the sword 
 of Damocles. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. H 
 
 She smiled, so that this sword might not fall upon her. 
 
 At length all these presentations, this homage and re- 
 joicing were well over, and they came to the more agree- 
 able and satisfactory part of the feast. 
 
 They went to dinner. That was Catharine's first mo- 
 ment of respite, of rest. For when Henry the Eighth 
 seated himself at table, he was no longer the haughty 
 monarch and the jealous husband, but merely the proficient 
 artiste and the impassioned gourmand; and whether the 
 pastry was well seasoned, and the pheasant of good flavor, 
 was for him then a far more important question than any 
 concerning the weal of his people, and the prosperity of his 
 kingdom. 
 
 But after dinner came another respite, a new enjoy- 
 ment, and this time a more real one, which indeed for a 
 while banished all gloomy forebodings and melancholy 
 fears from Catharine's heart, and suffused her countenance 
 with the rosy radiance of cheerfulness and happy smiles. 
 For King Henry had prepared for his young wife a peculiar 
 and altogether novel surprise. He had caused to be erected 
 in the palace of Whitehall a stage, whereon was repre- 
 sented, by the nobles of the court, a comedy from Plautus. 
 Heretofore there had been no other theatrical exhibitions 
 than those which the people performed on the high fes- 
 tivals of the church, the morality and the mystery plays. 
 King Henry the Eighth was the first who had a stage 
 erected for worldly amusement likewise, and caused to be 
 represented on it subjects other than mere dramatized 
 church history. As he freed the church from its spiritual 
 head, the pope, so he wished to free the stage from the 
 church, and to behold upon it other more lively spectacles 
 than the roasting of saints and the massacre of inspired 
 nuns. 
 
 And why, too, represent such mock tragedies on the 
 stage, when the king was daily performing them in reality? 
 The burning of Christian martyrs and inspired virgins was, 
 under the reign of the Christian king Henry, such a usual 
 
j.2 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 and every-day occurrence, that it could afford a piquant en- 
 tertainment neither to the court nor to himself. 
 
 But the representation of a Eoman comedy, that, how- 
 ever, was a new and piquant pleasure, a surprise for the 
 young queen. He had the " Curculio " played before his 
 wife, and if Catharine indeed could listen to the licentious 
 and shameless jests of the popular Eoman poet only with 
 bashful blushes, Henry was so much the more delighted by 
 it, and accompanied the obscenest allusions and the most 
 indecent jests with his uproarious laughter and loud shouts 
 of applause. 
 
 At length this festivity was also over with, and Catha- 
 rine was now permitted to retire with her attendants to her 
 private apartments. 
 
 With a pleasant smile, she dismissed her cavaliers, and 
 bade her women and her second maid of honor, Anna 
 Askew, go into her boudoir and await her call. Then she 
 gave her arm to her friend Lady Jane Douglas, and with 
 her entered her cabinet. 
 
 At last she was alone, at last unwatched. The smile 
 disappeared from her face, and an expression of deep sad- 
 ness was stamped upon her features. 
 
 " Jane," said she, " pray thee shut the doors and draw 
 the window curtains, so that nobody can see me, nobody 
 hear me, no one except yourself, my friend, the companion 
 of my happy childhood. Oh, my God, my God, why was I 
 so foolish as to leave my father's quiet, lonely castle and 
 go out into the world, which is so full of terror and hor- 
 ror? » 
 
 She sighed and groaned deeply; and burying her face 
 in her hands, she sank upon the ottoman, weeping and 
 trembling. 
 
 Lady Jane observed her with a peculiar smile of ma- 
 licious satisfaction. 
 
 " She is queen and she weeps," said she to herself. 
 " My God, how can a woman possibly feel unhappy, and she 
 a queen?" 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 13 
 
 She approached Catharine, and, seating herself on the 
 tabouret at her feet, she impressed a fervent kiss on the 
 queen's drooping hand. 
 
 " Your majesty weeping! " said she, in her most insinu- 
 ating tone. " My God, you are then unhappy; and I re- 
 ceived with a loud cry of joy the news of my friend's un- 
 expected good fortune. I thought to meet a queen, proud, 
 happy, and radiant with joy; and I was anxious and fearful 
 lest the queen might have ceased to be my friend. Where- 
 fore I urged my father, as soon as your command reached 
 us, to leave Dublin and hasten with me hither. Oh, my 
 God! I wished to see you in your happiness and in your 
 greatness." 
 
 Catharine removed her hands from her face, and looked 
 down at her friend with a sorrowful smile. " Well," said 
 she, " are you not satisfied with what you have seen? Have 
 I not the whole day displayed to you the smiling queen, 
 worn a dress embroidered with gold? did not my neck 
 glitter with diamonds? did not the royal diadem shine 
 in my hair? and sat not the king by my side? Let that, 
 then, be sufficient for the present. You have seen the 
 queen all day long. Allow me now for one brief, happy 
 moment to be again the feeling, sensitive woman, who can 
 pour into the bosom of her friend all her complaint and 
 her wretchedness. Ah, Jane, if you knew how I have 
 longed for this hour, how I have sighed after you as the 
 only balm for my poor smitten heart, smitten even to 
 death, how I have implored Heaven for this day, for this 
 one thing — ' Give me back my Jane, so that she can weep 
 with me, so that I may have one being at my side who 
 understands me, and does not allow herself to be imposed 
 upon by the wretched splendor of this outward display! ' " 
 
 " Poor Catharine ! " whispered Lady Jane, " poor 
 queen! " 
 
 Catharine started and laid her hand, sparkling with 
 brilliants, on Jane's lips. " Call me not thus! " said she. 
 " Queen! My God, is not all the fearful past heard again 
 
14 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 in that word? Queen! Is it not as much as to say, con- 
 demned to the scaffold and a public criminal trial? Ah, 
 Jane! a deadly tremor runs through my members. I am 
 Henry the Eighth's sixth queen; I shall also be executed, 
 or, loaded with disgrace, be repudiated." 
 
 Again she hid her face in her hands, and her whole 
 frame shook; so she saw not the smile of malicious satisfac- 
 tion with which Lady Jane again observed her. She sus- 
 pected not with what secret delight her friend heard her 
 lamentations and sighs. 
 
 "Oh! I am at least revenged!" thought Jane, while 
 she lovingly stroked the queen's hair. " Yes, I am re- 
 venged! She has robbed me of a crown, but she is 
 wretched; and in the golden goblet which she presses to her 
 lips she will find nothing but wormwood! Now, if this sixth 
 queen dies not on the scaffold, still we may perhaps so 
 work it that she dies of anxiety, or deems it a pleasure 
 to be able to lay down again her royal crown at Henry's 
 feet." 
 
 Then said she aloud: " But why these fears, Catha- 
 rine? The king loves you; the whole court has seen with 
 what tender and ardent looks he has regarded you to-day, 
 and with what delight he has listened to your every word. 
 Certainly the king loves you." 
 
 Catharine seized her hand impulsi fely. " The king 
 loves me," whispered she, " and I, I tr >mble before him. 
 Yes, more than that, his love fills me A 7 ith horror! His 
 hands are dipped in blood; and as I saw him to-day in his 
 crimson robes I shuddered, and I thought, How soon, and 
 my blood, too, will dye this crimson! " 
 
 Jane smiled. " You are sick, Catharine," said she. 
 * This good fortune has taken you by surprise, and your 
 overstrained nerves now depict before you all sorts of 
 frightful forms. That is all." 
 
 " No, no, Jane; these thoughts have ever been with me. 
 They have attended me ever since the king selected me foi 
 his wife." 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 15 
 
 " And why, then, did yon not refuse him ? " asked 
 Lady Jane. " Why did yon not say i no ' to the king's 
 suit?" 
 
 " Why did I not do it, ask you? Ah, Jane, are you such 
 a stranger at this court as not to know, then, that one 
 must either fulfil the king's behests or die ? My God, they 
 envy me! They call me the greatest and most potent 
 woman of England. They know not that I am poorer 
 and more powerless than the beggar of the street, who at 
 least has the power to refuse whom she will. I could not 
 refuse. I must either die or accept the royal hand which 
 was extended to me; and I would not die yet, I have still 
 so many claims on life, and it has hitherto made good so 
 few of them! Ah, my poor, hapless existence! what has it 
 been, but an endless chain of renunciations and depriva- 
 tions, of leafless flowers and dissolving views? It is true, 
 I have never learned to know what is usually called misfor- 
 tune. But is there a greater misfortune than not to be 
 happy; than to sigh through a life without wish or hope; 
 to wear away the endless, weary days of an existence with- 
 out delight, yet surrounded with luxury and splendor?" 
 
 " You were not unfortunate, and yet you are an orphan, 
 fatherless and motherless? " 
 
 " I lost my mother so early that I scarcely knew her. 
 And when my father died I could hardly consider it other 
 than a blessing, for he had never shown himself a father, 
 but always only as a harsh, tyrannical master to me." 
 
 " But you were married? " 
 
 " Married!" said Catharine, with a melancholy smile. 
 " That is to say, my father sold me to a gouty old man, 
 on whose couch I spent a few comfortless, awfully weari- 
 some years, till Lord Neville made me a rich widow. But 
 what did my independence avail me, when I had bound 
 myself in new fetters? Hitherto I had been the slave of 
 my father, of my husband; now I was the slave of my 
 wealth. I ceased to be a sick-nurse to become steward of 
 my estate. Ah! this was the most tedious period of my 
 
16 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 life. And yet I owe to it my only real happiness, for at 
 that period I became acquainted with yon, my Jane, and 
 my heart, which had never yet learned to know a tenderer 
 feeling, flew to you with all the impetuosity of a first pas- 
 sion. Believe me, my Jane, when this long-missing nephew 
 of my husband came and snatched away from me his heredi- 
 tary estate, and, as the lord, took possession of it, then the 
 thought that I must leave you and your father, the neigh- 
 boring proprietor, was my only grief. Men commiserated 
 me on account of my lost property. I thanked God that 
 He had relieved me of this load, and I started for Lon- 
 don, that I might at last live and feel, that I might learn 
 to know real happiness or real misery/' 
 
 " And what did you find? " 
 
 " Misery, Jane, for I am queen." 
 
 " Is that your sole unhappiness? " 
 
 " My only one, but it is great enough, for it condemns 
 me to eternal anxiety, to eternal dissimulation. It con- 
 demns me to feign a love which I do not feel, to en- 
 dure caresses which make me shudder, because they are 
 an inheritance from five unfortunate women. Jane, Jane, 
 do you comprehend what it is to be obliged to embrace 
 a man who has murdered three wives and put away 
 two? to be obliged to kiss this king whose lips open just 
 as readily to utter vows of love as sentences of death? 
 Ah, Jane, I speak, I live, and still I suffer all the agonies 
 of death! They call me a queen, and yet I tremble for my 
 life every hour, and conceal my anxiety and fear beneath 
 the appearance of happiness! My God, I am five-and- 
 twenty, and my heart is still the heart of a child; it does 
 not yet know itself, and now it is doomed never to learn 
 to know itself; for I am Henry's wife, and to love another 
 is, in other words, to wish to mount the scaffold. The 
 scaffold! Look, Jane. When the king approached me and 
 confessed his love and offered me his hand, suddenly there 
 rose before me a fearful picture. It was no more the king 
 whom I saw before me, but the hangman; and it seemed 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 17 
 
 to me that I saw three corpses lying at his feet, and with 
 a loud scream I sank senseless before him. When I re- 
 vived, the king was holding me in his arms. The shock 
 of this unexpected good fortune, he thought, had made me 
 faint. He kissed me and called me his bride; he thought 
 not for a moment that I could refuse him. And I — despise 
 me, Jane — I was such a dastard, that I could not summon 
 up courage for a downright refusal. Yes, I was so craven 
 also, as to be unwilling to die. Ah, my God, it appeared to 
 me that life at that moment beckoned to me with thou- 
 sands of joys, thousands of charms, which I had never 
 known, and for which my soul thirsted as for the manna 
 in the wilderness. I would live, live at any cost. I would 
 gain myself a respite, so that I might once more share hap- 
 piness, love, and enjoyment. Look, Jane, men call me am- 
 bitious. They say I have given my hand to Henry be- 
 cause he is king. Ah, they know not how I shuddered at 
 this royal crown. They know not that in anguish of heart 
 I besought the king not to bestow his hand upon me, and 
 thereby rouse all the ladies of his kingdom as foes against 
 me. They know not that I confessed that I loved him, 
 merely that I might be able to add that I was ready, out of 
 love to him, to sacrifice my own happiness to his, and so 
 conjured him to choose a consort worthy of himself, from 
 the hereditary princesses of Europe.* But Henry rejected 
 my sacrifice. He wished to make a queen, in order to pos- 
 sess a wife, who may be his own property — whose blood, as- 
 her lord and master, he can shed. So I am queen. I have 
 accepted my lot, and henceforth my existence will be a 
 ceaseless struggle and wrestling with death. I will at least 
 sell my life as dearly as possible; and the maxim which 
 Cranmer has given me shall hereafter be my guide on 
 the thorny path of life." 
 
 " And how runs this maxim? " asked Jane. 
 
 "Be wise as serpents and harmless as doves," replied 
 
 * " La vie d'Elizabeth, Reine d'Angleterre, traduite de l'ltalien d* 
 Monsieur Gregoire Leti," vol. ii. Amsterdam, 1694 
 
18 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Catharine, with a languid smile, as she dropped her head 
 upon her breast and surrendered herself to her painful and 
 foreboding reflections. 
 
 Lady Jane stood opposite to her, and gazed with cruel 
 composure upon the painfully convulsed countenance and 
 at times violently trembling form of the young queen for 
 whom all England that day kept festival, and who yet was 
 sitting before her so wretched and full of sorrow. 
 
 Suddenly Catharine ra.ised her head. Her countenance 
 had now assumed an entirely different expression. It was 
 now firm, resolute, and dauntless. With a slight inclination 
 of the head she extended her hand to Lady Jane, and drew 
 her friend more closely to her. 
 
 " I thank you, Jane/' said she, as she imprinted a kiss 
 upon her forehead — " I thank you! You have done my 
 heart good and relieved it of its oppressive load of secret 
 anguish. He who can give his grief utterance, is already 
 half cured of it. I thank you, then, Jane! Henceforth, 
 you will find me calm and cheerful. The woman has wept 
 before you, but the queen is aware that she has a task to 
 accomplish as difficult as it is noble, and I give you my word 
 for it, she will accomplish it. The new light which has 
 risen on the world shall no more be dimmed by blood and 
 tears, and no more in this unhappy land shall men of sense 
 and piety be condemned as insurgents and traitors! This 
 is the task which God has set me, and I swear that I will 
 accomplish it! Will you help me in this, too, Jane? " 
 
 Lady Jane responded faintly in a few words, which 
 Catharine did not understand, and as she looked up to her, 
 she noticed, with astonishment, the corpse-like pallor which 
 had suddenly overspread the countenance of her maid of 
 honor. 
 
 Catharine gave a start, and fixed on her face a surprised 
 and searching look. 
 
 Lady Jane cast down her eyes before that searching 
 and flashing glance. Her fanaticism had for the moment 
 got the better of her, and much as she was wont at other 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 19 
 
 times to hide her thoughts and feelings, it had, at that mo- 
 ment, carried her away and betrayed her to the keen eye 
 of her friend. 
 
 " It is now a long while since we saw each other," said 
 Catharine, sadly. " Three years! It is a long time for a 
 young girl's heart! And you were those three years with 
 your father in Dublin, at that rigidly popish court. I did 
 not consider that! But however much your opinions may 
 have changed, your heart, I know, still remains the same, 
 and you will ever be the proud, high-minded Jane of former 
 days, who could never stoop to tell a lie — no, not even if 
 this lie would procure her profit and glory. I ask you then, 
 Jane, what is your religion? Do you believe in the Pope 
 of Eome, and the Church of Eome as the only channel of 
 salvation? or do you follow the new teaching which Luther 
 and Calvin have promulgated?" 
 
 Lady Jane smiled. " Would I have risked appearing 
 before you, if I still reckoned myself of the Eoman Catholic 
 Church? Catharine Parr is hailed by the Protestants of 
 England as the new patroness of the persecuted doctrine, 
 and already the Romish priests hurl their anathemas 
 against you, and execrate you and your dangerous presence 
 here. And you ask me, whether I am an adherent of that 
 church which maligns and damns you? You ask me 
 whether I believe in the pope, who has laid the king under 
 an interdict — the king, who is not only my lord and master, 
 but also the husband of my precious and noble Catharine? 
 Oh, queen, you love me not when you can address such a 
 question to me." 
 
 And as if overcome by painful emotion, Lady Jane sank 
 down at Catharine's feet, and hid her head in the folds of 
 the queen's robe. 
 
 Catharine bent down to raise her and take her to her 
 heart. Suddenly she started, and a deathly paleness over- 
 spread her face. " The king," whispered she, " the king is 
 coming! " 
 
20 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 KING HENEY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 Catharine was not deceived. The doors were opened, 
 and on the threshold appeared the lord marshal, with his 
 golden mace. 
 
 "His majesty the king!" whispered he, in his grave,, 
 solemn manner, which filled Catharine with secret dread, 
 as though he were pronouncing the sentence of death 
 over her. 
 
 But she forced a smile and advanced to the door to 
 receive the king. Now was heard a thunder-like rumble, 
 and over the smoothly carpeted floor of the anteroom came 
 rolling on the king's house equipage. This house equipage 
 consisted of a large chair, resting on castors, which was; 
 moved by men in the place of horses, and to which they 
 had, with artful flattery, given the form of a triumphal 
 car of the old victorious Roman Caesars, in order to afford 
 the king, as he rolled through the halls, the pleasant illu- 
 sion that he was holding a triumphal procession, and that 
 it was not the burden of his heavy limbs which fastened 
 him to his imperial car. King Henry gave ready credence 
 to the flattery of his truckle-chair and his courtiers, and as 
 he rolled along in it through the saloons glittering with 
 gold, and through halls adorned with Venetian mirrors, 
 which reflected his form a thousandfold, he liked to lull 
 himself into the dream of being a triumphing hero, and 
 wholly forgot that it was not his deeds, but his fat, that 
 had helped him to his triumphal car. 
 
 For that monstrous mass which filled up the colossal 
 chair, that mountain of purple-clad flesh, that clumsy, 
 almost shapeless mass, that was Henry the Eighth, king 
 of merry England. But that mass had a head — a head fuD 
 of dark and wrathful thoughts, a heart full of bloodthirsty 
 and cruel lusts. The colossal body was indeed, by its physi- 
 cal weight, fastened to the chair. Yet his mind never 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 21 
 
 rested, but he hovered, with the talons and flashing eye of 
 the bird of prey, over his people, ever ready to pounce 
 npon some innocent dove, to drink her blood, and tear 
 out her heart, that he might lay it, all palpitating, as an 
 offering on the altar of his sanguinary god. 
 
 The king's sedan now stopped, and Catharine hastened 
 forward with smiling face, to assist her royal husband in 
 alighting. 
 
 Henry greeted her with a gracious nod, and rejected 
 the proffered aid of the attendant pages. 
 
 " Away," said he, " away! My Catharine alone shall 
 extend me her hand, and give me a welcome to the bridal 
 chamber. Go, we feel to-day as young and strong as in 
 our best and happiest days, and the young queen shall see 
 that it is no decrepit graybeard, tottering with age, who 
 woos her, but a strong man rejuvenated by love. Think 
 not, Kate, that I use my car because of weakness. No, it 
 was only my longing for you which made me wish to be 
 with you the sooner." 
 
 He kissed her with a smile, and, lightly leaning on her 
 arm, alighted from his car. 
 
 "Away with the equipage, and with all of you! " said 
 he. " We wish to be alone with this beautiful young wife, 
 whom the lord bishops have to-day made our own." 
 
 At a signal from his hand, the brilliant cortege with- 
 drew, and Catharine was alone with the king. 
 
 Her heart beat so wildly that it made her lips tremble, 
 and her bosom swell high. 
 
 Henry saw it, and smiled; but it was a cold, cruel smile, 
 and Catharine grew pale before it. 
 
 " He has only the smile of a tyrant," said she to her- 
 self. * With this same smile, by which he would now give 
 expression to his love, he yesterday, perhaps, signed a 
 death-warrant, or will, to-morrow, witness an execution." 
 
 " Do you love me, Kate? " suddenly said the king, who 
 had till now observed her in silence and thoughtfulness. 
 " Say, Kate, do you love me? " 
 
22 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 He looked steadily into her eyes, as though he would 
 read her soul to the very bottom. 
 
 Catharine sustained his look, and did not drop her eyes. 
 She felt that this was the decisive moment which deter- 
 mined her whole future; and this conviction restored to her 
 all her self-possession and energy. 
 
 She was now no longer the shy, timid girl, but the reso- 
 lute, proud woman, who was ready to wrestle with fate for 
 greatness and glory. 
 
 "Do you love me, Kate?" repeated the king; and hi3 
 brow already began to darken. 
 
 " I know not," said Catharine, with a smile, which en- 
 chanted the king, for there was quite as much graceful 
 coquetry as bashfulness on her charming face. 
 
 " You know not? " replied Henry, astonished. " Now, 
 by the Mother of God, it is the first time in my life that 
 a woman has ever been bold enough to return me such an 
 answer! You are a bold woman, Kate, to hazard it, and I 
 praise you for it. I love bravery, because it is something 
 I so rarely see. They all tremble before me, Kate — all! 
 They know that I am not intimidated by blood, and in the 
 might of my royalty I subscribe a death-warrant with the 
 same calmness of soul as a love-letter." 
 
 " Oh, you are a great king," murmured Catharine. 
 
 Henry did not notice her. He was wholly buried in 
 one of those self-contemplations to which he so willingly 
 surrendered himself, and which generally had for their 
 subject his own greatness and sovereignty. 
 
 " Yes," continued he, and his eyes, which, in spite of 
 his corpulency and his extremely fleshy face, were yet large 
 and wide open, shone more brightly. " Yes, they all trem- 
 ble before me, for they know that I am a righteous and 
 powerful king, who spares not his own blood, if it is neces- 
 sary to punish and expiate crime, and with inexorable hand 
 punishes the sinner, though he were the nearest to the 
 throne. Take heed to yourself, therefore, Kate, take heed 
 to yourself. You behold in me the avenger of God, and 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 23 
 
 the judge of men. The king wears the crimson, not be- 
 cause it is beautiful and glossy, but because it is red like 
 blood, and because it is the king's highest prerogative to 
 shed the blood of his delinquent subjects, and thereby ex- 
 piate human crime. Thus only do I conceive of royalty, 
 and thus only will I carry it out till the end of my days. 
 Not the right to pardon, but the right to punish, is that 
 whereby the ruler manifests himself before the lower 
 classes of mankind. God's thunder should be on his lips, 
 and the king's wrath should descend like lightning on the 
 head of the guilty." 
 
 "But God is not only wrathful, but also merciful and 
 forgiving," said Catharine, as she lightly and shyly leaned 
 her head on the king's shoulder. 
 
 " Just that is the prerogative of God above kings; that 
 He can, as it pleases Him, show mercy and grace, where we 
 can only condemn and punish. There must be some tiling 
 in which God is superior to kings, and greater than they. 
 But how, Kate, you tremble, and the lovely smile has van- 
 ished from your countenance ! Be not afraid of me, Kate ! 
 Be always frank with me, and without deceit; then I shall 
 always love you, and iniquity will then have no power over 
 you. And now, Kate, tell me, and explain to me. You 
 do not know that you love me ? " 
 
 " No, I do not know, your majesty. And how should I 
 be able to recognize, and know, and designate by name 
 what is strange to me, and what I have never before felt? " 
 
 "How, you have never loved, Kate?" asked the king, 
 with a joyful expression. 
 
 " Never. My father maltreated me, so that I could feel 
 ior him nothing but dread and terror." 
 
 " And your husband, child? That man who was my 
 predecessor in the possession of you. Did you not love 
 jour husband either?" 
 
 " My husband ? " asked she, abstractedly. " It is true, 
 my father sold me to Lord Neville, and as the priest had 
 joined our hands, men called him my husband. But he 
 
24 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 very well knew that I did not love him, nor did he require 
 my love. He needed a nurse, not a wife. He had given 
 me his name as a father gives his to a daughter; and I was 
 his daughter, a true, faithful, and obedient daughter, who 
 joyfully fulfilled her duty and tended him till his death." 
 
 " And after his death, child? Years have elapsed since 
 then, Kate. Tell me, and I conjure you, tell me the truth, 
 the simple, plain truth! After the death of your husband, 
 then even, did you never love ? " 
 
 He gazed with visible anxiety, with breathless expecta- 
 tion, deep into her eyes; but she did not drop them. 
 
 u Sire," said she, with a charming smile, " till a few 
 weeks past, I have often mourned over myself; and it 
 seemed to me that I must, in the desperation of my singu- 
 lar and cold nature, lay open my breast, in order to search 
 there for the heart, which, senseless and cold, had never 
 betrayed its existence by its stronger beating. Oh, sire, I 
 was full of trouble about myself; and in my foolish rashness, 
 I accused Heaven of having robbed me of the noblest feel- 
 ing and the fairest privilege of any woman — the capacity 
 of loving." 
 
 "Till the past few weeks, did you say, Kate?" asked 
 the king, breathless with emotion. 
 
 "Yes, sire, until the day on which you, for the first 
 time, graciously afforded me the happiness of speaking 
 with me." 
 
 The king uttered a low cry, and drew Catharine, with 
 impetuous vehemence, into his arms. 
 
 "And since, tell me now, you dear little dove, since 
 then, does your heart throb? " 
 
 "Yes, sire, it throbs, oh, it often throbs to bursting! 
 When I hear your voice, when I behold your countenance, 
 it is as if a cold tremor rilled through my whole being, 
 and drove all my blood to the heart. It is as though my 
 heart anticipated your approach before my eyes discern 
 you. For even before you draw near me, I feel a peculiar 
 trembling of the heart, and the breath is stifled in my 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 25 
 
 bosom; then I always know that you are coming, and that 
 your presence will relieve this peculiar tension of my being. 
 When you are not by me I think of you, and when I sleep 
 I dream of you. Tell me, sire, you who know every thing, 
 tell me, know you now whether I love you? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, you love me," cried Henry, to whom this 
 strange and joyous surprise had imparted youthful vivacity 
 and warmth. " Yes, Kate, you love me; and if I may trust 
 your dear confession, I am your first love. Eepeat it yet 
 again; you were nothing but a daughter to Lord Neville? " 
 
 " Nothing more, sire! " 
 
 " And after him have you had no love ? " 
 
 "None, sire!" 
 
 "And can it be that so happy a marvel has come to 
 pass? and that I have made, not a widow, but a young 
 maiden, my queen?" 
 
 As he now gazed at her with warm, passionate, tender 
 looks, Catharine cast down her eyes, and a deep blush cov- 
 ered her sweet face. 
 
 "Ah, a woman's bashful blushes, what an exquisite 
 sight! " cried the king, and while he wildly pressed Catha- 
 rine to his bosom, he continued: " Oh, are we not foolish 
 and short-sighted men, all of us, yes, even we kings? In 
 order that I might not be, perhaps, forced to send my sixth 
 wife also to the scaffold, I chose, in trembling dread of the 
 deceitfulness of your sex, a widow for my queen, and this 
 widow with a blessed confession, mocks at the new law of 
 the wise Parliament, and makes good to me what she never 
 promised." * 
 
 * After Catharine Howard's infidelity and incontinency had been 
 proved, and she had atoned for them by her death, Parliament en- 
 acted a law " that if the king or his successors should intend to marry 
 any woman whom they took to be a clean and pure maid — if she, 
 not being so, did not declare the same to the king, it should be high 
 treason ; and all who knew it, and did not reveal it, were guilty of 
 misprision of treason." — " Burnet's History of the Reformationof the 
 Church of England." London, 1681 (vol. i, p. 313). 
 3 
 
26 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " Come, Kate, give me a kiss. You have opened be- 
 fore me to-day a happy, blissful future, and prepared for 
 me a great and unexpected pleasure. I thank you for it,. 
 Kate, and the Mother of God be my witness, I will never 
 forget it." 
 
 And drawing a rich diamond ring from his own finger,, 
 and putting it upon Catharine's, he continued: " Be this 
 ring a remembrancer of this hour, and when you hereafter 
 present it to me, with a request, I will grant that request,. 
 Kate!" 
 
 He kissed her forehead,, and was about to press her more 
 closely in his arms, when suddenly from without was heard 
 the dull roll of drums, and the ringing of bells. 
 
 The king started a moment and released Catharine from 
 his arms. He listened; the roll of drums continued, and 
 now and then was heard in the distance, that peculiar 
 thundering and yet sullen sound, which so much resembles 
 the roar and rush of the sea, and which can be produced 
 only by a large and excited mob. 
 
 The king, with a fierce curse, pushed open the glass 
 door leading to the balcony, and walked out. 
 
 Catharine gazed after him with a strange, half-timid,, 
 half -scornful look. " I have not at least told him that I 
 love him," muttered she. " He has construed my words as 
 it suited his vanity. No matter. I will not die on the 
 scaffold! " 
 
 With a resolute step, and firm, energetic air, she fol- 
 lowed the king to the balcony. The roll of drums was 
 kept up, and from all the steeples the bells were pealing. 
 The night was dark and calm. All London seemed to 
 slumber, and the dark houses around about stood up out 
 of the universal darkness like huge coffins. 
 
 Suddenly the horizon began to grow bright, and on the 
 sky appeared a streak of fiery red, which, blazing up higher 
 and higher, soon illuminated the entire horizon with a 
 crimson glow, and even shed its glaring fiery beams over 
 the balcony on which stood the royal pair. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 27 
 
 Still the "bells clanged and clamored; and blended with 
 their peals was heard now and then, in the distance, a 
 piercing shriek and a clamor as of thousands and thousands 
 of confusedly mingled voices. 
 
 Suddenly the king turned to Catharine, and his coun- 
 tenance, which was just then overspread by the fire-light 
 as with a blood-red veil, had now assumed an expression 
 of savage, demoniacal delight. 
 
 " Ah," said he, " I know what it is. You had wholly 
 bewildered me, and stolen away my attention, you little 
 enchantress. I had for a moment ceased to be a king, be- 
 cause I wished to be entirely your lover. But now I be- 
 think me again of my avenging sovereignty! It is the 
 fagot-piles about the stake which flame so merrily yonder. 
 And that yelling and clamor indicate that my merry people 
 are enjoying with all their soul the comedy which I have 
 had played before them to-day, for the honor of God, and 
 my unimpeachable royal dignity." 
 
 "The stake!" cried Catharine, trembling. "Your 
 majesty does not mean thereby to say that right yonder, 
 men are to die a cruel, painful death — that the same hour 
 in which their king pronounces himself happy and content, 
 some of his subjects are to be condemned to dreadful tor- 
 ture, to a horrible destruction! Oh, no! my king will not 
 overcloud his queen's wedding-day with so dark a veil of 
 death. He will not wish to dim my happiness so cruelly." 
 
 The king laughed. " No, I will not darken it, but light 
 it up with bright flames," said he; and as, with outstretched 
 arm, he pointed over to the glaring heavens, he continued: 
 " There are our wedding-torches, my Kate, and the most 
 sacred and beautiful which I could find, for they burn to 
 > the honor of God and of the king.* And the heavenward 
 flaring flames which carries up the souls of the heretics will 
 give to my God joyous intelligence of His most faithful and 
 
 * "Life of King Henry the Eighth, founded on Authentic and 
 Original Documents." By Patrick Fraser Tytler. (Edinburgh, 1837, 
 p. 440.) 
 
28 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 obedient son, who, even on the day of his happiness, for- 
 gets not his kingly duty, but ever remains the avenging 
 and destroying minister of his God." 
 
 He looked frightful as he thus spoke. His countenance, 
 lit up by the fire, had a fierce, threatening expression; his 
 eyes blazed; and a cold, cruel smile played about his thin, 
 firmly-pressed lips. 
 
 " Oh, he knows no pity! " murmured Catharine to her- 
 self, as in a paroxysm of anguish she stared at the king, who, 
 in fanatical enthusiasm, was looking over toward the fire, 
 into which, at his command, they were perhaps hurling to a 
 cruel, torturing death, some poor wretch, to the honor of 
 God and the king. " No, he knows no pity and no mercy ." 
 
 Now Henry turned to her, and laying his extended hand 
 softly on the back of her slender neck, he spanned it with 
 his fingers, and whispered in her ear tender words and vows 
 of love. 
 
 Catharine trembled. This caress of the king, however 
 harmless in itself, had in it for her something dismal and 
 dreadful. It was the involuntary, instinctive touch of the 
 headsman, who examines the neck of his victim, and 
 searches on it for the place where he will make the stroke. 
 Thus had Anne Boleyn once put her tender white hands 
 about her slender neck, and said to the headsman, brought 
 over from Calais specially for her execution: " I pray you 
 strike me well and surely! I have, indeed, but a slim little 
 neck/' * Thus had the king clutched his hand about the 
 neck of Catharine Howard, his fifth wife, when, certain 
 of her infidelity, he had thrust her from himself with fierce 
 execrations, when she would have clung to him. The dark 
 marks of that grip were still visible upon her neck when 
 she laid it on the block. \ 
 
 And this dreadful twining of his fingers Catharine must 
 now endure as a caress; at which she must smile, which she 
 must receive with all the appearance of delight. 
 
 While he spanned her neck, he whispered in hex 
 
 * Tytler, p. 382. t Leti, vol. i, p. 198. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 29 
 
 ear words of tenderness, and bent his face close to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 But Catharine heeded not his passionate whispers. She 
 saw nothing save the blood-red handwriting of fire upon 
 the sky. She heard nothing save the shrieks of the 
 wretched victims. 
 
 " Mercy, mercy! " faltered she. " Oh, let this day be 
 a day of festivity for all your subjects! Be merciful, and 
 if you would have me really believe that you love me, grant 
 this first request which I make of you. Grant me the lives 
 of these Wretched ones. Mercy, sire, mercy! " 
 
 And as if the queen's supplication had found an echo, 
 suddenly was heard from the chamber a wailing, despairing 
 voice, repeating loudly and in tones of anguish: "Mercy, 
 your majesty, mercy! " The king turned round impetu- 
 ously, and his face assumed a dark, wrathful expression. 
 He fastened his searching eyes on Catharine, as though 
 he would read in her looks whether she knew who had 
 dared to interrupt their conversation. 
 
 But Catharine's countenance expressed unconcealed 
 astonishment. " Mercy, mercy! " repeated the voice from 
 the interior of the chamber. 
 
 The king uttered an angry exclamation, and hastily 
 withdrew from the balcony. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KING BY THE WRATH OF GOD. 
 
 "Who dares interrupt us?" cried the king, as with, 
 neadlong step he returned to the chamber — " who dares 
 speak of mercy?" 
 
 " I dare ! " said a young lady, who, pale, with distorted 
 features, in frightful agitation, now hastened to the king 
 and prostrated herself before him. 
 
30 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 "Anne Askew!" cried Catharine, amazed. "Anne, 
 what want you here ? n 
 
 " I want mercy, mercy for those wretched ones, who are 
 suffering yonder," cried the young maiden, pointing with 
 an expression of horror to the reddened sky. " I want 
 mercy for the king himself, who is so cruel as to send the 
 noblest and the best of his subjects to the slaughter like 
 miserable brutes! * 
 
 " Oh, sire, have compassion on this poor child! " be- 
 sought Catharine, turning to Henry, " compassion on her 
 impassioned excitement and her youthful ardor! She is as 
 yet unaccustomed to these frightful scenes — she knows not 
 yet that it is the sad duty of kings to be constrained to 
 punish, where they might prefer to pardon! " 
 
 Henry smiled; but the look which he cast on the kneel- 
 ing girl made Catharine tremble. There was a death-war- 
 rant in that look! 
 
 "Anne Askew, if I mistake not, is your second maid 
 of honor?" asked the king; "and it was at your express 
 wish that she received that place? " 
 
 " Yes sire." 
 
 " You knew her, then? " 
 
 " No, sire ! I saw her a few days ago for the first time, 
 But she had already won my heart at our first meeting, 
 and I feel that I shall love her. Exercise forbearance, 
 then, your majesty! " 
 
 But the king was still thoughtful, and Catharine's an- 
 swers did not yet satisfy him. 
 
 " Why, then, do you interest yourself for this young 
 lady, if you did not know her? " 
 
 " She has been so warmly recommended to me." 
 
 "By whom?" 
 
 Catharine hesitated a moment; she felt that she had, 
 perhaps, in her zeal, gone too far, and that it was impru- 
 dent to' tell the king the truth. But the king's keen, 
 penetrating look was resting on her, and she recollected 
 that he had, the first thing that evening, so urgently and 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 31 
 
 solemnly conjured her to always tell him the truth. Be- 
 sides, it was no secret at court who the protector of this 
 young maiden was, and who had been the means of her 
 obtaining the place of maid of honor to the queen, a place 
 which so many wealthy and distinguished families had 
 solicited for their daughters. 
 
 "Who recommended this lady to you?" repeated the 
 king, and already his ill-humor began to redden his face, 
 and make his voice tremble. 
 
 " Archbishop Cranmer did so, sire," said Catharine as 
 she raised her eyes to the king, and looked at him with a 
 smile surpassingly charming. 
 
 At that moment was heard without, more loudly, the 
 roll of drums, which nevertheless was partially drowned 
 by piercing shrieks and horrible cries of distress. The 
 blaze of the fire shot .up higher, and now was seen the 
 bright flame, which with murderous rage licked the sky 
 above. 
 
 Anne Askew, who had kept respectful silence during 
 the conversation of the royal pair, now felt herself com- 
 pletely overcome by this horrible sight, and bereft of the 
 last remnant of self-possession. 
 
 "My God, my God! " said she, quivering from the in- 
 ternal tremor, and stretching her hands beseechingly to- 
 ward the king, " do you not hear that frightful wail of the 
 wretched? Sire, by the thought of your own dying hour, 
 I conjure you have compassion on these miserable beings! 
 Let them not, at least, be thrown alive into the flames. 
 Spare them this last frightful torture." 
 
 King Henry cast a wrathful look on the kneeling girl; 
 then strode past her to the door, which led into the ad- 
 joining hall, in which the courtiers were waiting for their 
 king. 
 
 He beckoned to the two bishops, Cranmer and Gardiner, 
 to come nearer, and ordered the servants to throw the hall 
 doors wide open. 
 
 The scene now afforded an animated and singular spec- 
 
32 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 tacle, and this chamber, just before so quiet, was suddenly 
 changed to the theatre of a great drama, which was per- 
 haps to end tragically. In the queen's bedchamber, a small 
 room, but furnished with the utmost luxury and splendor, 
 the principal characters of this scene were congregated. In 
 the middle of the space stood the king in his robes, em- 
 broidered with gold and sparkling with jewels, which were 
 irradiated by the bright light of the chandelier. Near 
 him was seen the young queen, whose beautiful and lovely 
 face was. turned in anxious expectation toward the king, 
 in whose stern and rigid features she sought to read the 
 •development of this scene. 
 
 Not far from her still knelt the young maiden, hiding 
 in her hands her face drenched in tears; while farther away, 
 in the background, were the two bishops observing with 
 grave, cool tranquillity the group before them. Through 
 the open hall doors were descried the expectant and curious 
 countenances of the courtiers standing with their heads 
 crowded close together in the space before the doors; and 
 opposite to them, through the open door leading to the 
 balcony, was seen the fiery, blazing sky, and heard the 
 clanging of the bells and the rolling of the drums, the 
 piercing shrieks and the yells of the people. 
 
 A deep silence ensued, and when the king spoke, the 
 tone of his voice was so hard and cold, that an involuntary 
 shudder ran through all present. 
 
 " My Lord Bishops of Winchester and Canterbury," said 
 the king, " we have called you that you may, by the might 
 of your prayers and the wisdom of your words, rid this 
 young girl here from the devil, who, without doubt, has 
 the mastery over her, since she dares charge her king and 
 master with cruelty and injustice." 
 
 The two bishops drew nearer to the kneeling girl; each 
 laid a hand upon her shoulder, and bent over her, but the 
 one with an expression of countenance wholly different 
 from that of the other. 
 
 Cranmer's look was gentle and serious, and at the same 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 3a 
 
 time a compassionate and encouraging smile played about 
 his thin lips. 
 
 Gardiner's features on the contrary bore the expression 
 of cruel, cold-hearted irony; and the smile which rested 
 on his thick, protruding lips was the joyful and merciless 
 smile of a priest ready to sacrifice a victim to his idol. 
 
 " Courage, my daughter, courage and prudence ! " whis- 
 pered Cranmer. 
 
 " God, who blesses the righteous and punishes and de- 
 stroys sinners, be with thee and with us all!" said Gar- 
 diner. 
 
 But Anne Askew recoiled with a shudder from the 
 touch of his hand, and with an impetuous movement 
 pushed it away from her shoulder. 
 
 " Touch me not; you are the hangman of those poor 
 people whom they are putting to death down yonder," said 
 she impetuously; and as she turned to the king and ex- 
 tended her hands imploringly toward him, she cried: 
 " Mercy, King Henry, mercy! " 
 
 "Mercy!" repeated the king, "mercy, and for whom? 
 Who are they that they are putting to death down there? 
 Tell me, forsooth, my lord bishops, who are they that are 
 led to the stake to-day? Who are the condemned? " 
 
 " They are heretics, who devote themselves to this new 
 false doctrine which has come over to us from Germany, 
 and who dare refuse to recognize the spiritual supremacy 
 of our lord and king," said Bishop Gardiner. 
 
 " They are Eoman Catholics, who regard the Pope of 
 Rome as the chief shepherd of the Church of Christ, and 
 will regard nobody but him as their lord," said Bishop 
 Cranmer. 
 
 " Ah, behold this young maiden accuses us of injustice," 
 cried the king; " and yet, you say that not heretics alone 
 are executed down there, but also Romanists. It appears 
 to me then that we have justly and impartially, as always, 
 punished only criminals and given over the guilty to jus- 
 tice." 
 
34 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " Oh, had you seen what I have seen/' said Anne Askew, 
 shuddering, " then would you collect all your vital energies 
 for a single cry, for a single word — mercy! and that word 
 would you shout out loud enough to reach yon frightful 
 place of torture and horror." 
 
 " What saw you, then? " asked the king, smiling. 
 
 Anne Askew had stood up, and her tall, slender form 
 now lifted itself, like a lily, between the sombre forms of 
 the bishops. Her eye was fixed and glaring; her noble and 
 delicate features bore the expression of horror and dread. 
 
 " I saw," said she, " a woman whom they were leading 
 to execution. Not a criminal, but a noble lady, whose 
 proud and lofty heart never harbored a thought of treason 
 or disloyalty, but who, true to her faith and her convic- 
 tions, would not forswear the God whom she served. As 
 she passed through the crowd, it seemed as if a halo encom- 
 passed her head, and covered her white hair with silvery 
 rays; all bowed before her, and the hardest natures wept 
 over the unfortunate woman who had lived more than 
 seventy years, and yet was not allowed to die in her bed, 
 but was to be slaughtered to the glory of God and of the 
 king. But she smiled, and graciously saluting the weep- 
 ing and sobbing multitude, she advanced to the scaffold 
 as if she were ascending a throne to receive the homage of 
 her people. Two years of imprisonment had blanched her 
 cheek, but had not been able to destroy the fire of her eye, 
 or the strength of her mind, and seventy years had not 
 bowed her neck or broken her spirit. Proud and firm, she 
 mounted the steps of the scaffold, and once more saluted 
 the people and cried aloud, ( I will pray to God for you.' 
 But as the headsman approached and demanded that she 
 should allow her hands to be bound, and that she should 
 kneel in order to lay her head upon the block, she re- 
 fused, and angrily pushed him away. ' Only traitors and 
 criminals lay their head on the block! p exclaimed she, with 
 a loud, thundering voice. ' There is no occasion for me 
 to do so, and I will not submit to your bloody laws as long 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 35 
 
 as there is a breath in me. Take, then, my life, if you 
 can.' 
 
 " And now began a scene which filled the hearts of the 
 lookers-on with fear and horror. The countess flew like 
 a hunted beast round and round the scaffold. Her white 
 hair streamed in the wind; her black grave-clothes rustled 
 around her like a dark cloud, and behind her, with uplifted 
 axe, came the headsman, in his fiery red dress; he, ever 
 endeavoring to strike her with the falling axe, but she, 
 ever trying, by moving her head to and fro, to evade the 
 descending stroke. But at length her resistance became 
 weaker; the blows of the axe reached her, and stained her 
 white hair, hanging loose about her shoulders, with crim- 
 son streaks. With a heart-rending cry, she fell fainting. 
 Near her, exhausted also, sank down the headsman, bathed 
 in sweat. This horrible wild chase had lamed his arm and 
 broken his strength. Panting and breathless, he was not 
 able to drag this fainting, bleeding woman to the block, 
 or to lift up the axe to separate her noble head from the 
 body.* The crowd shrieked with distress and horror, im- 
 ploring and begging for mercy, and even the lord chief jus- 
 tice could not refrain from tears, and he ordered the cruel 
 work to be suspended until the countess and the headsman 
 should have regained strength; for a living, not a dying 
 person was to be executed: thus said the law. They made 
 a pallet for the countess on the scaffold and endeavored to 
 Testore her; invigorating wine was supplied to the heads- 
 man, to renew his strength for the work of death; and the 
 crowd turned to the stakes which were prepared on both 
 sides of the scaffold, and at which four other martyrs were 
 to be burnt. But I flew here like a hunted doe, and now, 
 king, I lie at your feet. There is still time. Pardon, king, 
 pardon for the Countess of Somerset, the last of the 
 Plantagenets." 
 
 " Pardon, sire, pardon! " repeated Catharine Parr, 
 weeping and trembling, as she clung to her husband's side. 
 
 * Tytler, p. 430. 
 
36 HENRY VIII. AND H*S COUET. 
 
 " Pardon! " repeated Archbishop Cranmer; and a few of 
 the courtiers re-echoed it in a timid and anxious whisper. 
 
 The king's large, brilliant eyes glanced around the 
 whole assembly, with a quick, penetrating look. " And you, 
 my Lord Bishop Gardiner," asked he, in a cold, sarcastic 
 tone, "will you also ask for mercy, like all these weak- 
 hearted souls here ? " 
 
 " The Lord our God is a jealous God," said Gardiner, 
 solemnly, " and it is written that God will punish the 
 sinner unto the third and fourth generation." 
 
 " And what is written shall stand true ! " exclaimed the 
 king, in a voice of thunder. " No mercy for evil-doers, no 
 pity for criminals. The axe must fall upon the head of the 
 guilty, the flames shall consume the bodies of criminals." 
 
 " Sire, think of your high vocation! " exclaimed Anne 
 Askew, in a tone of enthusiasm. " Eeflect what a glorious 
 name you have assumed to yourself in this land. You call 
 yourself the head of the Church, and you want to rule and 
 govern upon earth in God's stead. Exercise mercy, then, 
 for you entitle yourself king by the grace of God." 
 
 "No, I do not call myself king by God's grace; I call 
 myself king by God's wrath! " exclaimed Henry, as he 
 raised his arm menacingly. " It is my duty to send sinners 
 to God; may He have mercy on them there above, if He 
 will! I am the punishing judge, and I judge mercilessly, 
 according to the law, without compassion. Let those whom 
 I have condemned appeal to God, and may He have mercy 
 upon them. I cannot do it, nor will I. Kings are here 
 to punish, and they are like to God, not in His love, but in 
 His avenging wrath." 
 
 " Woe, then, woe to you and to all of us! " exclaimed 
 Anne Askew. Woe to you, King Henry, if what you now 
 say is the truth! Then are they right, those men who are 
 bound to yonder stakes, when they brand you with the 
 name of tyrant; then is the Bishop of Rome right when he 
 upbraids you as an apostate and degenerate son, and hurls 
 his anathemas against you! Then you know not God, who 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 37 
 
 is love and mercy; then you are no disciple of the Saviour,, 
 who has said, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
 you/ Woe to you, King Henry, if matters are really so bad 
 with you; if " 
 
 " Silence, unhappy woman, silence ! " exclaimed Catha- 
 rine; and as she vehemently pushed away the furious girl 
 she grasped the king's hand, and pressed it to her lips. 
 " Sire," whispered she, with intense earnestness, " sire, you 
 told me just now that you loved me. Prove it by pardoning 
 this maiden, and having consideration for her impassioned 
 excitement. Prove it by allowing me to lead Anne Askew 
 to her room and enjoin silence upon her." 
 
 But at this moment the king was wholly inaccessible to* 
 any other feelings than those of anger and delight in 
 blood. 
 
 He indignantly repelled Catharine, and without mov- 
 ing his sharp, penetrating look from the young maiden, he 
 said in a quick, hollow tone: "Let her alone; let her 
 speak; let no one dare to interrupt her! " 
 
 Catharine, trembling with anxiety and inwardly hurt at 
 the harsh manner of the king, retired with a sigh to the 
 embrasure of one of the windows. 
 
 Anne Askew had not noticed what was going on about 
 her. She remained in that state of exaltation which cares 
 for no consequences and which trembles before no danger. 
 She would at this moment have gone to the stake with 
 cheerful alacrity, and she almost longed for this blessed 
 martyrdom. 
 
 " Speak, Anne Askew, speak! " commanded the king. 
 " Tell me, do you know what the countess, for whose par- 
 don you are beseeching me, has done? Know you why 
 those four men were sent to the stake ? " 
 
 " I do know, King Henry, by the wrath of God," said 
 the maiden, with burning passionateness. "I know why 
 you have sent the noble countess to the slaughter-house, 
 and why you will exercise no mercy toward her. She is of 
 noble, of royal blood, and Cardinal Pole is her son. Yon 
 
38 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 would punish the son through the mother, and because 
 you cannot throttle the cardinal, you murder his mother." 
 
 " Oh, you are a very knowing child! " cried the king, 
 with an inhuman, ironical laugh. "You know my most 
 secret thoughts and my most hidden feelings. Without 
 doubt you are a good papist, since the death of the popish 
 countess fills you with such heart-rending grief. Then 
 you must confess, at the least, that it is right to burn the 
 four heretics! " 
 
 "Heretics!" exclaimed Anne, enthusiastically, "call 
 you heretics those noble men who go gladly and boldly to 
 death for their convictions and their faith? King Henry! 
 King Henry! Woe to you if these men are condemned as 
 heretics! They alone are the faithful, they are the true 
 servants of God. They have freed themselves from human 
 supremacy, and as you would not recognize the pope, so 
 they will not recognize you as head of the Church! God 
 alone, they say, is Lord of the Church and Master of their 
 consciences, and who can be presumptuous enough to call 
 them criminals?" 
 
 " I! " exclaimed Henry the Eighth, in a powerful tone. 
 " I dare do it. I say that they are heretics, and that I will 
 destroy them, will tread them all beneath my feet, all of 
 them, all who think as they do! I say that I will shed 
 the blood of these criminals, and prepare for them tor- 
 ments at which human nature will shudder and quake. 
 God will manifest Himself by me in fire and blood! He has 
 put the sword into my hand, and I will wield it for His 
 glory. Like St. George, I will tread the dragon of heresy 
 beneath my feet! " 
 
 And haughtily raising his crimsoned face and rolling 
 his great bloodshot eyes wildly around the circle, he con- 
 tinued: " Hear this all of you who are here assembled; no 
 mercy for heretics, no pardon for papists. It is I, I alone, 
 whom the Lord our God has chosen and blessed as His 
 hangman and executioner! I am the high-priest of His 
 Church, and he who dares deny me, denies God; and he 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 39 
 
 who is so presumptuous as to do reverence to any other 
 head of the Church, is a priest of Baal and kneels to an 
 idolatrous image. Kneel down all of you before me, and 
 reverence in me God, whose earthly representative I am, 
 and who reveals Himself through me in His fearful and 
 exalted majesty. Kneel down, for I am sole head of the 
 €hurch and high-priest of our God! " 
 
 And as if at one blow all knees bent; all those haughty 
 -cavaliers, those ladies sparkling with jewels and gold, even 
 the two bishops and the queen fell upon the ground. 
 
 The king gazed for a moment on this sight, and, with 
 Tadiant looks and a smile of triumph, his eyes ran over this 
 assembly, consisting of the noblest of his kingdom, hum- 
 bled before him. 
 
 Suddenly they were fastened on Anne Askew. 
 
 She alone had not bent her knee, but stood in the. midst 
 of the kneelers, proud and upright as the king himself. 
 
 A dark cloud passed over the king's countenance. 
 
 " You obey not my command? " asked he. 
 
 She shook her curly head and fixed on him a steady, 
 piercing look. " No," said she, " like those over yonder 
 whose last death-groan we even now hear, like them, I 
 say: To God alone is honor due, and He alone is Lord of 
 His Church! If you wish me to bend my knee before you 
 as my king, I will do it, but I bow not to you as the head 
 of the holy Church!" 
 
 A murmur of surprise flew through the assembly, and 
 every eye was turned with fear and amazement on this 
 bold young girl, who confronted the king with a counte- 
 nance smiling and glowing with enthusiasm. 
 
 At a sign from Henry the kneelers arose and awaited 
 in breathless silence the terrible scene that was coming. 
 
 A pause ensued. King Henry himself was struggling 
 for breath, and needed a moment to collect himself. 
 
 Not as though wrath and passion had deprived him of 
 speech. He was neither wrathful nor passionate, and it 
 was only joy that obstructed his breathing — the joy of 
 
4-0 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 having again found a victim with which he might satisfy 
 his desire for blood, on whose agony he might feast his 
 eyes, whose dying sigh he might greedily inhale. 
 
 The king was never more cheerful than when he had 
 signed a death-warrant. For then he was in full enjoy- 
 ment of his greatness as lord over the lives and deaths of 
 millions of other men, and this feeling made him proud 
 and happy, and fully conscious of his exalted position. 
 
 Hence, as he now turned to Anne Askew, his counte- 
 nance was calm and serene, and his voice friendly, almost 
 tender. 
 
 " Anne Askew," said he, " do you know that the words 
 you have now spoken make you guilty of high treason? " 
 
 " I know it, sire." 
 
 " And you know what punishment awaits traitors? * 
 
 " Death, I know it." 
 
 "Death by fire!" said the king with perfect calmness 
 and composure. 
 
 A hollow murmur ran through the assembly. Only one 
 voice dared give utterance to the word mercy. 
 
 It was Catharine, the king's consort, who spoke this one 
 word. She stepped forward, and was about to rush to the 
 king and once more implore his mercy and pity. But she 
 felt herself gently held back. Archbishop Cranmer stood 
 near her, regarding her with a serious and beseeching look. 
 
 " Compose yourself, compose yourself," murmured he. 
 " You cannot save her; she is lost. Think of yourself, and 
 of the pure and holy religion whose protectress you are. 
 Preserve yourself for your Church and your companions in 
 the faith!" 
 
 " And must she die ? " asked Catharine, whose eyes filled 
 with tears as she looked toward the poor young child, who 
 was confronting the king with such a beautiful and inno- 
 cent smile. 
 
 " Perhaps we may still save her, but this is not the mo- 
 ment for it. Any opposition now would only irritate the 
 king the more, and he might cause the girl to be instantly 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 4J 
 
 thrown into the flames of the fires still burning yonder! 
 So let us be silent/' 
 
 " Yes, silence/' murmured Catharine, with a shudder, 
 as she withdrew again to the embrasure of the window. 
 
 " Death by fire awaits you, Anne Askew! " repeated the 
 king. " No mercy for the traitress who vilifies and scoffs 
 at her king! " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE KIVALS. 
 
 At the very moment when the king was pronouncing, 
 in a voice almost exultant, Anne Askew's sentence of death, 
 one of the king's cavaliers appeared on the threshold of the 
 royal chamber and advanced toward the king. 
 
 He was a young man of noble and imposing appearance, 
 whose lofty bearing contrasted strangely with the humble 
 and submissive attitude of the rest of the courtiers. His 
 tall, slim form was clad in a coat of mail glittering with 
 gold; over his shoulders hung a velvet mantle decorated 
 with a princely crown; and his head, covered with dark ring- 
 lets, was adorned with a cap embroidered with gold, from 
 which a long white ostrich-feather drooped to his shoulder. 
 His oval face presented the full type of aristocratic beauty; 
 his cheeks were of a clear, transparent paleness; about his 
 slightly pouting mouth played a smile, half contemptuous 
 and half languid; the high, arched brow and delicately 
 chiselled aquiline nose gave to his face an expression at once 
 bold and thoughtful. The eyes alone were not in harmony 
 with his face; they were neither languid like the mouth, 
 nor pensive like the brow. All the fire and all the bold 
 and wanton passion of youth shot from those dark, flashing 
 eyes. When he looked down, he might have been taken 
 for a completely worn-out, misanthropic aristocrat; but 
 4 
 
42 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 when he raised those ever-flashing and sparkling eyes, 
 then was seen the young man full of dashing courage 
 and ambitions desires, of passionate warmth and measure- 
 less pride. 
 
 He approached the king, as already stated, and as he 
 bent his knee before him, he said in a full, pleasant voice: 
 " Mercy, sire, mercy! " 
 
 The king stepped back in astonishment, and turned 
 upon the bold speaker a look almost of amazement. 
 
 " Thomas Seymour! " said he. " Thomas, you have re- 
 turned, then, and your first act is again an indiscretion and 
 a piece of foolhardy rashness? " 
 
 The young man smiled. " I have returned," said he,. 
 " that is to say, I have had a sea-fight with the Scots and 
 taken from them four men-of-war. With these I hastened 
 hither to present them to you, my king and lord, as a 
 wedding-gift, and just as I entered the anteroom I heard 
 your voice pronouncing a sentence of death. Was it not 
 natural, then, that I, who bring you tidings of a victory,, 
 should have the heart to utter a prayer for mercy, for 
 which, as it seems, none of these noble and proud cavaliers 
 could summon up courage? " 
 
 " Ah ! " said the king, evidently relieved and fetching 
 a deep breath, " then you knew not at all for whom and 
 for what you were imploring pardon? " 
 
 "Yet!" said the young man, and his bold glance ran 
 with an expression of contempt over the whole assembly — 
 " yet, I saw at once who the condemned must be, for I saw 
 this young maiden forsaken by all as if stricken by the- 
 plague, standing alone in the midst of this exalted and 
 brave company. And you well know, my noble king, that 
 at court one recognizes the condemned and those fallen 
 into disgrace by this, that every one flies from them, and 
 nobody has the courage to touch such a leper even with 
 the tip of his finger! " 
 
 King Henry smiled. " Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sud- 
 ley, you are now, as ever, imprudent and hasty," said he.. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 43 
 
 "You beg for mercy without once knowing whether she 
 for whom you beg it is worthy of mercy." 
 
 " But I see that she is a woman/' said the intrepid 
 young earl. " And a woman is always worthy of mercy, 
 and it becomes every knight to come forward as her de- 
 fender, were it but to pay homage to her sex, so fair and 
 so frail, and yet so noble and mighty. Therefore I beg 
 mercy for this young maiden! " 
 
 Catharine had listened to the young earl with throb- 
 bing heart and flushed cheeks. It was the first time that 
 she had seen him, and yet she felt for him a warm sym- 
 pathy, an almost tender anxiety. 
 
 " He will plunge himself into ruin," murmured she; 
 " he will not save Anne, but will make himself unhappy. 
 My God, my God, have a little compassion and pity on my 
 anguish! n 
 
 She now fixed her anxious gaze on the king, firmly re- 
 solved to rush to the help of the earl, who had so nobly 
 and magnanimously interested himself in an innocent 
 woman, should the wrath of her husband threaten him 
 also. But, to her surprise, Henry's face was perfectly serene 
 and contented. 
 
 Like the wild beast, that, following its instinct, seeks 
 its bloody prey only so long as it is hungry, so King Henry 
 felt satiated for the day. Yonder glared the fires about 
 the stake, at which four heretics were burned; there stood 
 the scaffold on which the Countess of Somerset had just 
 been executed; and now, within this hour, he had already 
 found another new victim for death. Moreover, Thomas 
 Seymour had always been his favorite. His audacity, his 
 liveliness, his energy, had always inspired the king with re- 
 spect; and then, again, he so much resembled his sister, 
 the beautiful Jane Seymour, Henry's third wife. 
 
 " I cannot grant you this favor, Thomas," said the 
 king. " Justice must not be hindered in her course, and 
 where she has passed sentence, mercy must not give her the 
 lie; and it was the justice of your king which pronounced 
 
44 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 sentence at that moment. You were guilty, therefore, of a 
 double wrong, for you not only besought mercy, but you 
 also brought an accusation against my cavaliers. Do you 
 really believe that, were this maiden's cause a just one, no 
 knight would have been found for her? " 
 
 " Yes, I really believe it," cried the earl, with a laugh. 
 " The sun of your favor had turned away from this poor 
 girl, and in such a case your courtiers no longer see the 
 figure wrapped in darkness." 
 
 u You are mistaken, my lord; I have seen it," suddenly 
 said another voice, and a second cavalier advanced from the 
 anteroom into the chamber. He approached the king, and, 
 as he bent his knee before him, he said, in a loud, steady 
 voice: " Sire, I also beg mercy for Anne Askew! " 
 
 At this moment was heard from that side of the room 
 where the ladies stood, a low cry, and the pale, affrighted 
 face of Lady Jane Douglas was for a moment raised above 
 the heads of the other ladies. No one noticed it. All eyes 
 were directed toward the group in the middle of the room; 
 all looked with eager attention upon the king and these 
 two young men, who dared protect one whom he had sen- 
 tenced. 
 
 " Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey! " exclaimed the king; 
 and now an expression of wrath passed over his counte- 
 nance. "How! you, too, dare intercede for this girl? 
 You, then, grudge Thomas Seymour the pre-eminence of 
 being the most discreet man at my court?" 
 
 " I will not allow him, sire, to think that he is the brav 
 «st," replied the young man, as he fixed on Thomas Sey- 
 mour a look of haughty defiance, which the other answered 
 by a cold, disdainful smile. 
 
 " Oh," said he, with a shrug of his shoulders, " I will- 
 ingly allow you, my dear Earl of Surrey, to tread behind me, 
 at your convenience, the path, the safety of which I first 
 tested at the peril of my life. You saw that I had not, as 
 yet, lost either my head or my life in this reckless under- 
 taking, and that has given you courage to follow my ex- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 45 
 
 ample. That is a new proof of your prudent valor, my Hon- 
 orable Earl of Surrey, and I must praise you for it." 
 
 A hot flush suffused the noble face of the earl, his 
 eyes shot lightning, and, trembling with rage, he laid his 
 hand on his sword. "Praise from Thomas Seymour is " 
 
 "Silence!" interposed the king, imperatively. "It 
 must not be said that two of the noblest cavaliers of my 
 court have turned the day, which should be one of festivity 
 to all of you, into a day of contention. I command you, 
 therefore, to be reconciled. Shake hands, my lords, and 
 let your reconciliation be sincere. I, the king command it! " 
 
 The young men gazed at each other with looks of hatred 
 and smothered rage, and their eyes spoke the insulting and 
 defiant words which their lips durst no longer utter. The 
 king had ordered, and, however great and powerful they 
 might be, the king was to be obeyed. They, therefore, ex- 
 tended their hands to each other, and muttered a few low, 
 unintelligible words, which might be, perhaps, a mutual 
 apology, but which neither of them understood. 
 
 " And now, sire," said the Earl of Surrey, " now I ven- 
 ture to reiterate my prayer. Mercy, your majesty, mercy 
 for Anne Askew! " 
 
 " And you, Thomas Seymour, do you also renew your 
 petition? " 
 
 " No, I withdraw it. Earl Surrey protects her; I, there- 
 fore, retire, for without doubt she is a criminal; your 
 majesty says so, and, therefore, it is so. It would ill be- 
 come a Seymour to protect a person who has sinned against 
 the king." 
 
 This new indirect attack on Earl Surrey seemed to make 
 on all present a deep but very varied impression. Here, 
 faces were seen to turn pale, and there, to light up with a 
 malicious smile; here, compressed lips muttered words of 
 threatening, there, a mouth opened to express approba- 
 tion and agreement. 
 
 The king's brow was clouded and troubled; the arrow 
 which Earl Sudley had shot with so skilful a hand had 
 
46 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 hit. The king, ever suspicious and distrustful, felt so much 
 the more disquieted as he saw that the greater part of his 
 cavaliers evidently reckoned themselves friends of Henry 
 Howard, and that the number of Seymour's adherents was 
 but trifling. 
 
 " These Howards are dangerous, and I will watch them 
 carefully," said the king to himself; and for the first time 
 his eye rested with a dark and hostile look on Henry How- 
 ard's noble countenance. 
 
 But Thomas Seymour, who wished only to make a 
 thrust at his old enemy, had at the same time decided the 
 fate of poor Anne Askew. It was now almost an impossi- 
 bility to speak in her behalf, and to implore pardon for 
 her was to become a partaker of her crime. Thomas Sey- 
 mour had abandoned her, because, as traitress to her king, 
 she had rendered herself unworthy of his protection. Who 
 now would be so presumptuous as to still protect the 
 traitress? 
 
 Henry Howard did it; he reiterated his supplication for 
 Anne Askew's pardon. But the king's countenance grew 
 darker and darker, and the courtiers watched with dread 
 the coming of the moment when his wrath would dash in 
 pieces the poor Earl of Surrey. 
 
 In the row of ladies also, here and there, a pale face was 
 visible, and many a beautiful and beaming eye was dimmed 
 with tears at the sight of this gallant and handsome cava- 
 lier, who was hazarding even his life for a woman. 
 
 "He is lost!" murmured Lady Jane Douglas; and, 
 completely crushed and lifeless, she leaned for a moment 
 against the wall. But she soon recovered herself, and her 
 eye beamed with bold resolution. "I will try and save 
 him! " she said to herself; and, with firm step, she advanced 
 from the ladies' ranks, and approached the king. 
 
 A murmur of applause ran through the company, and 
 all faces brightened and all eyes were bent approvingly on 
 Lady Jane. They knew that she was the queen's friend, 
 and an adherent of the new doctrine; it was, therefore, very 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 47 
 
 marked and significant when she supported the Earl of 
 Surrey in his magnanimous effort. 
 
 Lady Jane bowed her beautiful and haughty head be- 
 fore the king, and said, in her clear, silvery voice: " Sire, 
 in the name of all the women, I also beseech you to par- 
 don Anne Askew, because she is a woman. Lord Surrey has 
 done so because a true knight can never be false to him- 
 self and his ever high and sacred obligation: to be the pro- 
 tector of those who are helpless and in peril is enough for 
 him. A real gentleman asks not whether a woman is 
 worthy of his protection; he grants it to her, simply be- 
 cause she is a woman, and needs his help. And while I, 
 therefore, in the name of all the women, thank the Earl of 
 Surrey for the assistance that he has been desirous to ren- 
 der to a woman, I unite my prayer with his, because it shall 
 not be said that we women are always cowardly and timid, 
 and never venture to hasten to the help of the distressed. 
 I, therefore, ask mercy, sire, mercy for Anne Askew! " 
 
 " And I," said the queen, as she again approached the 
 king, " I add my prayers to hers, sire. To-day is the feast 
 of love, my festival, sire! To-day, then, let love and mercy 
 prevail." 
 
 She looked at the king with so charming a smile, her 
 eyes had an expression so radiant and happy, that the king 
 could not withstand her. 
 
 He was, therefore, in the depths of his heart, ready to 
 let the royal clemency prevail for this time; but he wanted 
 a pretext for this, some way of bringing it about. He had 
 solemnly vowed to pardon no heretic, and he might not 
 break his word merely because the queen prayed for mercy. 
 
 " Well, then," said he, after a pause, " I will comply 
 with your request. I will pardon A.nne Askew, provided 
 she will retract, and solemnly abjure all that she has said. 
 Are you satisfied with that, Catharine ? " 
 
 " I am satisfied," said she, sadly. 
 
 " And you, Lady Jane Douglas, and Henry Howard, 
 Earl of Surrey?" 
 
48 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " We are satisfied." 
 
 All eyes were now turned again upon Anne Askew, 
 who, although every one was occupied by her concerns, had 
 been entirely overlooked and left unnoticed. 
 
 Nor had she taken any more notice of the company than 
 they of her. She had scarcely observed what was going on 
 about her. She stood leaning against the open door leading 
 to the balcony, and gazed at the flaming horizon. Her soul 
 was with those pious martyrs, for whom she was sending 
 up her heart-felt prayers to God, and whom she, in her 
 feverish exaltation, envied their death of torture. Entirely 
 borne away from the present, she had heard neither the 
 petitions of those who protected her, nor the king's reply. 
 
 A hand laid upon her shoulder roused her from her 
 reverie. 
 
 It was Catharine, the young queen, who stood near her. 
 
 "Anne Askew," said she, in a hurried whisper, "if 
 your life is dear to you, comply with the king's demand." 
 
 She seized the young girl's hand, and led her to the 
 king. 
 
 " Sire," said she, in a full voice, " forgive the exalted 
 and impassioned agony of a poor girl, who has now, for the 
 first time, been witness of an execution, and whose mind 
 has been so much impressed by it that she is scarcely con- 
 scious of the mad and criminal words that she has uttered 
 before you! Pardon her, then, your majesty, for she is 
 prepared cheerfully to retract." 
 
 A cry of amazement burst from Anne's lips, and her 
 eyes flashed with anger, as she dashed the queen's hand 
 away from her. 
 
 " I retract! " exclaimed she, with a contemptuous smile. 
 "Never, my lady, never! No! as sure as I hope for God 
 to be gracious to me in my last hour, I retract not! It is 
 true, it was agony and horror that made me speak; but what 
 I have spoken is yet, nevertheless, the truth. Horror caused 
 me to speak, and forced me to show my soul undisguised. 
 No, I retract not ! I tell you, they who have been executed 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 49 
 
 over yonder are holy martyrs, who have ascended to God, 
 there to enter an accusation against their royal hangman. 
 Ay, they are holy, for eternal truth had illumined their 
 souls, and it beamed about their faces bright as the flames 
 of the fagots into which the murderous hand of an un- 
 righteous judge had cast them. Ah, I must retract! I, 
 forsooth, am to do as' did Shaxton, the miserable and un- 
 faithful servant of his God, who, from fear of earthly death, 
 denied the eternal truth, and in blaspheming pusillanimity 
 perjured himself concerning the holy doctrine.* King 
 Henry, I say unto you, beware of dissemblers and per- 
 jurers; beware of your own haughty and arrogant thoughts. 
 The blood of martyrs cries to Heaven against you, and the 
 time will come when God will be as merciless to you as you 
 have been to the noblest of your subjects! You deliver 
 them over to the murderous flames, because they will not 
 believe what the priests of Baal preach; because they will 
 not believe in the real transubstantiation of the chalice; 
 because they deny that the natural body of Christ is, after 
 the sacrament, contained in the sacrament, no matter 
 whether the priest be a good or a bad man.f You give 
 them over to the executioner, because they serve the truth, 
 and are faithful followers of the Lord their God! " 
 
 "And you share the views of these people whom you 
 call martyrs ? " asked the king, as Anne Askew now paused 
 for a moment and struggled for breath. 
 
 « Yes, I share them! " 
 
 " You deny, then, the truth of the six articles? " 
 
 " I deny them! " 
 
 " You do not see in me the head of the Church? " 
 
 " God only is Head and Lord of the Church! " 
 
 A pause followed — a fearful, awful pause. 
 
 Every one felt that for this poor young girl there was 
 no hope, no possible escape; that her doom was irrevocably 
 sealed. 
 
 There was a smile on the king's countenance. 
 
 * Burnet, vol. i, p. 341. f Ibid. 
 
50 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 The courtiers knew that smile, and feared it yet more 
 than the king's raging wrath. 
 
 When the king thus smiled, he had taken his resolve. 
 Then there was with him no possible vacillation or hesita- 
 tion, but the sentence of death was resolved on, and his 
 bloodthirsty soul rejoiced over a new victim. 
 
 " My Lord Bishop of Winchester," said the king, at 
 length, " come hither." 
 
 Gardiner drew near and placed himself by Anne Askew, 
 who gazed at him with angry, contemptuous looks. 
 
 " In the name of the law I command you to arrest this 
 heretic, and hand her over to the spiritual court," con- 
 tinued the king. " She is damned and lost. She shall be 
 punished as she deserves!" 
 
 Gardiner laid his hand on Anne Askew's shoulder. " In 
 the name of the law of God, I arrest you! " said he, sol- 
 emnly. 
 
 Not a word more was spoken. The lord chief justice 
 had silently followed a sign from Gardiner, and touching 
 Anne Askew with his staff, ordered the soldiers to con- 
 duct her thence. 
 
 With a smile, Anne Askew offered them her hand, and 
 surrounded by the soldiers and followed by the Bishop of 
 Winchester and the lord chief justice, walked erect and 
 proudly out of the room. 
 
 The courtiers had divided and opened a passage for 
 Anne and her attendants. Now their ranks closed again, 
 as the sea closes and flows calmly on when it has just re- 
 ceived a corpse. To them all Anne Askew was already a 
 corpse, as one buried. The waves had swept over her and 
 all was again serene and bright. 
 
 The king extended his hand to his young wife, and, 
 bending down, whispered in her ear a few words, which 
 nobody understood, but which made the young queen 
 tremble and blush. 
 
 The king, who observed this, laughed and impressed a 
 kiss on her forehead. Then he turned to his court: 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 51 
 
 "Now, good-night, my lords and gentlemen," said he, 
 with a gracious inclination of the head. " The feast is 
 at an end, and we need rest." 
 
 " Forget not the Princess Elizabeth," whispered Arch- 
 bishop Cranmer, as he took leave of Catharine, and pressed 
 to his lips her proffered hand. 
 
 " I will not forget her," murmured Catharine, and, 
 with throbbing heart and trembling with inward dread, she 
 saw them all retire, and leave her alone with the king. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE INTERCESSION". 
 
 " And now, Kate," said the king, when all had with- 
 drawn, and he was again alone with her, " now let us for- 
 get everything, save that we love each other." 
 
 He embraced her and with ardor pressed her to his 
 breast. Wearied to death, she bowed her head on his 
 shoulder and lay there like a shattered rose, completely 
 broken, completely passive. 
 
 " You give me no kiss, Kate ? " said Henry, with a 
 smile. " Are you then yet angry with me that I did not 
 comply with your first request? But what would you have 
 me do, child? How, indeed, shall I keep the crimson of 
 my royal mantle always fresh and bright, unless I con- 
 tinually dye it anew in the blood of criminals? Only he 
 who punishes and destroys is truly a king, and trembling 
 mankind will acknowledge him as such. The tender- 
 hearted and gracious king it despises, and his pitiful weak- 
 ness it laughs to scorn. Bah! Humanity is such a 
 wretched, miserable thing, that it only respects and ac- 
 knowledges him who makes it tremble. And people are 
 such contemptible, foolish children, that they have re- 
 
52 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 spect only for him who makes them feel the lash daily, and 
 every now and then whips a few of them to death. Look 
 at me, Kate: where is there a king who has reigned longer 
 and more happily than I? whom the people love more and 
 obey better than me? This arises from the fact that I 
 have already signed more than two hundred death-war- 
 rants,* and because every one believes that, if he does not 
 obey me, I will without delay send his head after the 
 others!" 
 
 " Oh, you say you love me," murmured Catharine, 
 " and you speak only of blood and death while you are 
 with me." 
 
 The king laughed. "You are right, Kate," said he, 
 "and yet, believe me, there are other thoughts slumber- 
 ing in the depths of my heart, and could you look down 
 into it, you would not accuse me of coldness and unkind- 
 ness. I love you truly, my dear, virgin bride, and, to 
 prove it, you shall now ask a favor of me. Yes, Kate, 
 make me a request, and, whatever it may be, I pledge you 
 my royal word, it shall be granted you. Now, Kate, think, 
 what will please you? Will you have brilliants, or a castle 
 by the sea, or, perhaps, a yacht? Would you like fine 
 horses, or it may be some one has offended you, and you 
 would like his head? If so, tell me, Kate, and you shall 
 have his head; a wink from me, and it drops at your 
 feet. For I am almighty and all-powerful, and no one is 
 so innocent and pure, that my will cannot find in him 
 a crime which will cost him his life. Speak, then, 
 Kate; what would you have? What will gladden your 
 heart?" 
 
 Catharine smiled in spite of her secret fear and horror. 
 
 " Sire," said she, " you have given me so many bril- 
 liants, that I can shine and glitter with them, as night 
 does with her stars. If you give me a castle by the sea, 
 that is, at the same time, banishing me from Whitehall 
 and your presence; I wish, therefore, for no castle of 
 
 * Tytler, p. 428. Leti, vol. i, p. 187. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 53 
 
 my own. I wish only to dwell with you in your castles, 
 and my king's abode shall be my only residence." 
 
 " Beautifully and wisely spoken," said the king; " I 
 will remember these words if ever your enemies endeavor 
 to send you to a dwelling and a castle other than that 
 which your king occupies. The Tower is also a castle, 
 Kate, but I give you my royal word you shall never oc- 
 cupy that castle. You want no treasures and no castles? 
 It is, then, somebody's head that you demand of me ? " 
 
 " Yes, sire, it is the head of some one ! " 
 
 u Ah, I guessed it, then," said the king with a laugh. 
 " Now speak, my little bloodthirsty queen, whose head 
 will you have? Who shall be brought to the block? " 
 
 " Sire, it is true I ask you for the head of a person," 
 said Catharine, in a tender, earnest tone, " but I wish not 
 that head to fall, but to be lifted up. I beg you for a 
 human life — not to destroy it, but, on the contrary, to 
 adorn it with happiness and joy. I wish to drag no one to 
 prison, but to restore to one, dearly beloved, the freedom, 
 happiness, and splendid position which belong to her. 
 Sire, you have permitted me to ask a favor. Now, then, 
 I beg you to call the Princess Elizabeth to court. Let 
 her reside with us at Whitehall. Allow her to be ever 
 near me, and share my happiness and glory. Sire, only 
 yesterday the Princess Elizabeth was far above me in rank 
 and position, but since your all-powerful might and grace 
 have to-day elevated me above all other wojnen, I may 
 now love the Princess Elizabeth as my sister and dearest 
 friend. Grant me this, my king! Let Elizabeth come to 
 us at Whitehall, and enjoy at our court the honor which is 
 her due." * 
 
 The king did not reply immediately; but in his quiet 
 and smiling air one could read that his young consort's 
 request had not angered him. Something like an emo- 
 tion flitted across his face, and his eyes were for a moment 
 dimmed with tears. 
 
 * Leti, vol. i, p. 147. Tvtler. p. 410. 
 
54: HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 Perhaps just then a pale, soul-harrowing phantom 
 passed before his mind, and a glance at the past showed 
 him the beautiful and unfortunate mother * of Elizabeth, 
 whom he had sentenced to a cruel death at the hands of 
 the public executioner, and whose last word nevertheless 
 was a blessing and a message of love for him. 
 
 He passionately seized Catharine's hand and pressed it 
 to his lips. " I thank you! You are unselfish and gen- 
 erous. That is a very rare quality, and I shall always 
 highly esteem you for it. But you are also brave and 
 courageous, for you have dared what nobody before you 
 has dared; you have twice on the same evening inter- 
 ceded for one condemned and one fallen into disgrace. 
 The fortunate, and those favored by me, have always had 
 many friends, but I have never yet seen that the unfor- 
 tunate and the exiled have also found friends. You are 
 different from these miserable, cringing courtiers; differ- 
 ent from this deceitful and trembling crowd, that with 
 chattering teeth fall down and worship me as their god 
 and lord; different from these pitiful, good-for-nothing 
 mortals, who call themselves my people, and who allow 
 me to yoke them up, because they are like the ox, which 
 is obedient and serviceable, only because he is so stupid as 
 not to know his own might and strength. Ah, believe 
 me, Kate, I would be a milder and more merciful king, 
 if the people were not such an utterly stupid and con- 
 temptible thing; a dog, which is so much the more sub- 
 missive and gentle the more you maltreat him. You, 
 Kate, you are different, and I am glad of it. You know, 
 I have forever banished Elizabeth from my court and from 
 my heart, and still you intercede for her. That is noble 
 of you, and I love you for it, and grant you your request. 
 And that you may see how I love and trust you, I will 
 now reveal to you a secret: I have long since wished to 
 have Elizabeth with me, but I was ashamed, even to my- 
 self, of this weakness. I have long yearned once again 
 
 * Anne Boleyn. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 55 
 
 to look into my daughter's large deep eyes, to be a kind 
 and tender father to her, and make some amends to her 
 for the wrong I perhaps may have done to her mother. 
 For sometimes, in sleepless nights, Anne's beautiful face 
 comes up before me and gazes at me with mournful, mild 
 look, and my whole heart shudders before it. But I could 
 not confess this to anybody, for then they might say that I 
 repented what I had done. A king must be infallible, like 
 God himself, and never, through regret or desire to com- 
 pensate, confess that he is a weak, erring mortal, like 
 others. You see why I repressed my longing and parental 
 tenderness, which was suspected by no one, and appeared 
 to be a heartless father, because nobody would help me 
 and make it easy for me to be a tender father. Ah, these 
 courtiers! They are so stupid, that they can understand 
 only just what is echoed in our words; but what our heart 
 says, and longs for, of that they know nothing. But you 
 know, Kate; you are an acute woman, and a high-minded 
 one besides. Come, Kate, a thankful father gives you 
 this kiss, and this, ay, this, your husband gives you, my 
 beautiful, charming queen." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HBNEY THE EIGHTH AND HIS WIVES. 
 
 The calm of night had now succeeded to the tempest 
 of the day, and after so much bustle, festivity, and rejoic- 
 ing, deep quiet now reigned in the palace of Whitehall, 
 and throughout London. The happy subjects of King 
 Henry might, without danger, remain for a few hours at 
 least in their houses, and behind closed shutters and bolt- 
 ed doors, either slumber and dream, or give themselves 
 to their devotional exercises, on account of which they had 
 
56 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 that day, perhaps, been denounced as malefactors. They 
 might, for a few hours, resign themselves to the sweet,, 
 blissful dream of being freemen untrammelled in belief 
 and thought. For King Henry slept, and likewise Gardi- 
 ner and the lord chancellor had closed their watchful, 
 prying, devout, murderous eyes, and reposed awhile from 
 the Christian employment of ferreting out heretics. 
 
 And like the king, the entire households of both their 
 majesties were also asleep and resting from the festivities 
 of the royal wedding-day, which, in pomp and splendor, by 
 far surpassed the five preceding marriages. 
 
 It appeared, however, as though not all the court offi- 
 cials were taking rest, and following the example of the 
 king. For in a chamber, not far from that of the royal 
 pair, one could perceive, from the bright beams streaming 
 from the windows, in spite of the heavy damask curtains 
 which veiled them, that the lights were not yet extin- 
 guished; and he who looked more closely would have ob- 
 served that now and then a human shadow was portrayed 
 upon the curtain. 
 
 So the occupant of this chamber had not yet gone to 
 rest, and harassing must have been the thoughts which 
 cause him to move so restlessly to and fro. 
 
 This chamber was occupied by Lady Jane Douglas, 
 first maid of honor to the queen. The powerful influence 
 of Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, had seconded Cath- 
 arine's wish to have near her the dear friend of her youth, 
 and, without suspecting it, the queen had given a help- 
 ing hand to bring nearer to their accomplishment the 
 schemes which the hypocritical Gardiner was directing 
 against her. 
 
 For Catharine knew not what changes had taken place 
 in the character of her friend in the four years in which 
 she had not seen her. She did not suspect how fatal her 
 sojourn in the strongly Romish city of Dublin had been to 
 the easily impressible mind of her early playmate, and 
 how much it had transformed her whole being. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 57 
 
 Lady Jane, once so sprightly and gay, had become a 
 bigoted Bomanist, who, with fanatical zeal, believed that 
 •she was serving God when she served the Church, and paid 
 unreserved obedience to her priests. 
 
 Lady Jane Douglas had therefore — thanks to her fa- 
 naticism and the teachings of the priests — become a com- 
 plete dissembler. She could smile, while in her heart she 
 secretly brooded over hatred and revenge. She could kiss 
 the lips of those whose destruction she had perhaps just 
 sworn. She could preserve a harmless, innocent air, while 
 she observed everything, and took notice of every breath, 
 •every smile, every movement of the eyelashes. 
 
 Hence it was very important for Gardiner, Bishop of 
 Winchester, to bring his " friend " of the queen to court, 
 •and make of this disciple of Loyola an ally and friend. 
 
 Lady Jane Douglas was alone; and, pacing up and 
 down her room, she thought over the events of the day. 
 
 Now, that no one was observing her, she had laid 
 aside that gentle, serious mien, which one was wont to 
 •see about her at other times; her countenance betrayed in 
 rapid changes all the various sad and cheerful, tempestu- 
 ous and tender feelings which agitated her. 
 
 She who had hitherto had only one aim before her eyes, 
 to serve the Church, and to consecrate her whole life to 
 this service; she whose heart had been hitherto open only 
 to ambition and devotion, she felt to-day wholly new and 
 never-susupected feelings springing up within her. A 
 new thought had entered into her life, the woman was 
 awakened in her, and beat violently at that heart which 
 devotion had overlaid with a hard coating. 
 
 She had tried to collect herself in prayer, and to fill her 
 soul so entirely with the idea of God and her Church, that 
 no earthly thought or desire could find place therein. 
 But ever and again arose before her mind's eye the noble 
 countenance of Henry Howard, ever and again she fancied 
 that she heard his earnest, melodious voice, which made 
 tier heart shake and tremble like a magical incantation. 
 5 
 
58 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 She had at first struggled against these sweet fancies, 
 which forced upon her such strange and undreamed-of 
 thoughts; but at length the woman in her got the better 
 of the fanatical Komanist, and, dropping into a seat, she 
 surrendered herself to her dreams and fancies. 
 
 "Has he recognized me?" asked she of herself. 
 "Does he still remember that a year ago we saw each 
 other daily at the king's court in Dublin? " 
 
 " But no," added she mournfully, " he knows nothing 
 of it. He had then eyes and sense only for his young wife. 
 Ah, and she was beautiful and lovely as one of the Graces. 
 But I, am not I also beautiful? and have not the noblest 
 cavaliers paid me homage, and sighed for me in unavailing 
 love? How comes it, then, that where I would please, 
 there I am always overlooked? How comes it, that the 
 only two men, for whose notice I ever cared, have never 
 shown any preference for me? I felt that I loved Henry 
 Howard, but this love was a sin, for the Earl of Surrey 
 was married. I therefore tore my heart from him by vio- 
 lence, and gave it to God, because the only man whom I 
 could love did not return my affection. But even God 
 and devotion are not able to entirely fill a woman's heart. 
 In my breast there was still room for ambition; and since 
 I could not be a happy wife, I would at least be a powerful 
 queen. Oh, everything was so well devised, so nicely 
 arranged! Gardiner had already spoken of me to the 
 king, and inclined him to his plan; and while I was has- 
 tening at his call from Dublin hither, this little Cath- 
 arine Parr comes between and snatches him from me, and 
 overturns all our schemes. I will never forgive her. I 
 will find a way to revenge myself. I will force her to leave 
 this place, which belongs to me, and if there is no other 
 way for it, she must go the way of the scaffold, as did 
 Catharine Howard. I will be Queen of England, I 
 will " 
 
 She suddenly interrupted her soliloquy, and listened. 
 She thought she heard a slight knock at the door. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 5$ 
 
 She was not mistaken; this knock was now repeated, 
 and indeed with a peculiar, significant stroke. 
 
 " It is my father! " said Lady Jane, and, as she re- 
 sumed again her grave and quiet air, she proceeded to 
 open the door. 
 
 "Ah, you expected me, then?" said Lord Archibald 
 Douglas, kissing his daughter's forehead. 
 
 " Yes, I expected you, my father/' replied Lady Jane 
 with a smile. "I knew that you would come to com- 
 municate to me your experiences and observations during 
 the day, and to give me directions for the future." 
 
 The earl seated himself on the ottoman, and drew his 
 daughter down by him. 
 
 u No one can overhear us, can they? " 
 
 "Nobody, my father! My women are sleeping in the 
 fourth chamber from here, and I have myself fastened the 
 intervening doors. The anteroom through which you 
 came is, as you know, entirely empty, and nobody can con- 
 ceal himself there. It remains, then, only to fasten the 
 door leading thence into the corridor, in order to be secure* 
 from interruption." 
 
 She hastened into the anteroom to fasten the door. 
 
 " Now, my father, we are secure from listeners," said 
 she, as she returned and resumed her place on the otto- 
 man. 
 
 " And the walls, my child? know you whether or no 
 the walls are safe ? You look at me with an expression of 
 doubt and surprise! My God, what a harmless and inno- 
 cent little maiden you still are ! Have I not constantly re- 
 iterated the great and wise lesson, c Doubt everything and 
 mistrust everything, even what you see/ He who will 
 make his fortune at court, must first of all mistrust every- 
 body, and consider everybody his enemy, whom he is to 
 flatter, because he can do him harm, and whom he is to 
 hug and kiss, until in some happy embrace he can either 
 plunge a dagger into his breast wholly unobserved, or pour 
 poison into his mouth. Trust neither men nor walls, 
 
60 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Jane, for I tell you, however smooth and innocent both 
 may appear, still there may be found an ambuscade behind 
 the smooth exterior. But I will for the present believe 
 that these walls are innocent, and conceal no listeners. I 
 will believe it, because I know this room. Those were fine 
 and charming days in which I became acquainted with it. 
 Then I was yet young and handsome, and King Henry's 
 sister was not yet married to the King of Scotland, and 
 we loved each other so dearly. Ah, I could relate to you 
 wonderful stories of those happy days. I could " 
 
 " But, my dear father," interrupted Lady Jane, secretly 
 trembling at the terrible prospect of being forced to lis- 
 ten yet again to the story of his youthful love, which she 
 had already heard times without number, "but, my dear 
 father, doubtless you have not come hither so late at night 
 in order to relate to me what I — forgive me, my lord — what 
 I long since knew. You will rather communicate to me 
 what your keen and unerring glance has discovered here." 
 
 " It is true," said Lord Douglas, sadly. " I now some- 
 times become loquacious — a sure sign that I am growing 
 old. I have, by no means, come here to speak of the past, 
 but of the present. Let us, then, speak of it. Ah, I have 
 to-day perceived much, seen much, observed much, and 
 the result of my observations is, you will be King Henry's 
 seventh wife." 
 
 u Impossible, my lord! " exclaimed Lady Jane, whose 
 countenance, in spite of her will, assumed an expression 
 of delight. 
 
 Her father remarked it. " My child," said he, " I ob- 
 serve that you have not yet your features entirely under 
 your control. You aimed just now, for example, to play 
 the coy and humble, and yet your face had the expression 
 of proud satisfaction. But this by the way! The princi- 
 pal thing is, you will be King Henry's seventh wife! But 
 in order to become so, there is need for great needfulness, 
 a complete knowledge of present relations, constant ob- 
 servation of all persons, impenetrable dissimulation, and 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 61 
 
 lastly, above all things, a very intimate and profound 
 knowledge of the king, of the history of his reign, and of 
 his character. Do you possess this knowledge ? Know you 
 what it is to wish to become King Henry's seventh wife, 
 and how you must begin in order to attain this? Have 
 you studied Henry's character? " 
 
 " A little, perhaps, but certainly not sufficiently. For, 
 as you know, my lord, worldly matters have lain upon my 
 heart less than the holy Church, to whose service I have 
 consecrated myself, and to which I would have presented 
 my whole being, my whole soul, my whole heart, as a sacri- 
 fice, had not you yourself determined otherwise concerning 
 me. Ah, my father, had I been allowed to follow my in- 
 clination, I would have retired into a convent in Scotland 
 in order to spend my life in quiet contemplation and pious 
 penances, and close my soul and ear to every profane 
 sound. But my wishes have not been regarded; and, by 
 the mouth of His venerable and holy priests, God has com- 
 manded me to remain in the world, and take upon myself 
 the yoke of greatness and regal splendor. If I then strug- 
 gle and strive to become queen, this is done, not because 
 the vain pomp and glory allure me, but solely because 
 through me the Church, out of which is no salvation, may 
 find a fulcrum to operate on this weak and fickle king, 
 and because I am to bring him back again to the only true 
 faith." 
 
 " Very well played! " cried her father, who had stared 
 her steadily in the face while she was speaking. " On my 
 word, very well played. Everything was in perfect har- 
 mony, the gesticulation, the play of the eyes, and the 
 voice. My daughter, I withdraw my censure. You have 
 perfect control over yourself. But let us speak of King 
 Henry. We will now subject him to a thorough analysis, 
 and no fibre of his heart, no atom of his brain shall re- 
 main unnoticed by us. We will observe him in his domes- 
 tic, his political, and his religious life, and get a perfectly 
 clear view of every peculiarity of his character, in order 
 
62 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 that we may deal with him accordingly. Let us, then, 
 speak first of his wives. Their lives and deaths afford 
 you excellent finger-posts; for I do not deny that it is 
 an extremely difficult and dangerous undertaking to be 
 Henry's consort. There is needed for it much personal 
 courage and very great self-control. Know you which, 
 of all his wives, possessed these in the highest degree ? It 
 was his first consort, Catharine of Aragon! By Heaven, 
 she was a sensible woman, and born a queen! Henry, ava- 
 ricious as he was, would gladly have given the best jewel 
 in his crown, if he could have detected but a shadow, the 
 slightest trace of unfaithfulness in her. But there was 
 absolutely no means of sending this woman to the scaffold, 
 and at that time he was as yet too cowardly and too virtu- 
 ous to put her out of the way by poison. He, therefore, 
 endured her long, until she was an old woman with gray 
 hairs, and disagreeable for his eyes to look upon. So after 
 he had been married to her seventeen years, the good, 
 pious king was all at once seized with a conscientious 
 scruple, and because he had read in the Bible, ' Thou shalt 
 not marry thy sister/ dreadful pangs of conscience came 
 upon the noble and crafty monarch. He fell upon his 
 knees and beat his breast, and cried: i I have committed a 
 great sin; for I have married my brother's wife, and conse- 
 quently my sister. But I will make amends for it. I will 
 dissolve this adulterous marriage! ' — Do you know, child, 
 why he would dissolve it?" 
 
 " Because he loved Anne Boleyn! " said Jane, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Perfectly correct! Catharine had grown old, and 
 Henry was still a young man, and his blood shot through 
 his veins like streams of fire. But he was yet somewhat 
 virtuous and timid, and the main peculiarity of his charac- 
 ter was as yet undeveloped. He was not yet bloodthirsty, 
 that is to say, he had not yet licked blood. But you will 
 see how with each new queen his desire for blood increased, 
 till at length it has now become a wasting disease. Had 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 63 
 
 he then had the system of lies that he now has, he would 
 somehow have bribed a slanderer, who would have de- 
 clared that he was Catharine's lover. But he was yet so 
 innocent; he wanted yet to gratify his darling lusts in a 
 perfectly legal way. So Anne Boleyn must become his 
 queen, that he might love her. And in order to attain 
 this, he threw down the glove to the whole world, became 
 an enemy to the pope, and set himself in open opposition 
 to the holy head of the Church. Because the Holy Fa- 
 ther would not dissolve his marriage, King Henry became 
 an apostate and atheist. He constituted himself head of 
 his Church, and, by virtue of his authority as such, he de- 
 clared his marriage with Catharine of Aragon null and 
 void. He said that he had not in his heart given his con- 
 sent to this marriage, and that it had not consequently been 
 properly consummated.* It is true, Catharine had in the 
 Princess Mary a living witness of the consummation of her 
 marriage, but what did the enamored and selfish king care 
 about that? Princess Mary was declared a bastard, and 
 the queen was now to be nothing more than the widow of 
 the Prince of Wales. It was strictly forbidden to longer 
 give the title and to show the honor due to a queen, to the 
 woman who for seventeen years had been Queen of Eng- 
 land, and had been treated and honored as such. No one 
 was permitted to call her anything but the Princess of 
 Wales; and that nothing might disturb the good people or 
 the noble queen herself in this illusion, Catharine was ban- 
 ished from the court and exiled to a castle, which she had 
 once occupied as consort of Arthur, Prince of Wales. And 
 Henry likewise allowed her only the attendance and pen- 
 sion which the law appoints to the widow of the Prince of 
 Wales, f 
 
 " I have ever held this to be one of the most prudent 
 and subtle acts of our exalted king, and in the whole his- 
 tory of this divorce the king conducted himself with ad- 
 mirable consistency and resolution. But this is to say, he 
 
 * Burnet, vol. i, p. 37. f Burnet, vol. i, p. 120. 
 
64 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 was excited by opposition. Mark this, then, my child, fox 
 this is the reason why I have spoken to yon of these things 
 so mnch at length. Mark this, then: King Henry is every 
 way entirely nnable to bear contradiction, or to be sub- 
 jected to restraint. If you wish to win him to any pur- 
 pose, you must try to draw him from it; you must sur- 
 round it with difficulties and hinderances. Therefore 
 show yourself coy and indifferent; that will excite him. 
 Do not court his looks; then will he seek to encounter 
 yours. And when finally he loves you, dwell so long on 
 your virtue and your conscience, that at length Henry, in 
 order to quiet your conscience, will send this troublesome 
 Catharine Parr to the block, or do as he did with Catharine 
 of Aragon, and declare that he did not mentally give his 
 consent to this marriage, and therefore Catharine is no 
 queen, but only Lord Neville's widow. Ah, since he made 
 himself high-priest of his Church, there is no impediment 
 for him in matters of this kind, for only God is mightier 
 than he. 
 
 "The beautiful Anne Boleyn, Henry's second wife, 
 proved this. I have seen her often, and I tell you, Jane, 
 she was of wondrous beauty. Whoever looked upon her, 
 could not but love her, and he whom she smiled upon felt 
 himself fascinated and glorified. When she had borne 
 to the king the Princess Elizabeth, I heard him say, 
 that he had attained the summit of his happiness, the 
 goal of his wishes, for the queen had borne him a 
 daughter, and so there was a regular and legitimate 
 successor to his throne. But this happiness lasted only a 
 brief time. 
 
 " The king conceived one day that Anne Boleyn was 
 not, as he had hitherto believed, the most beautiful woman 
 in the world; but that there were women still more beauti- 
 ful at his court, who therefore had a stronger vocation to 
 become Queen of England. He had seen Jane Seymour, 
 and she without doubt was handsomer than Anne Boleyn, 
 for she was not as yet the king's consort, and there was an 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 65 
 
 obstacle to his possession of her — the Queen Anne Boleyn. 
 This obstacle must be go out of the way. 
 
 " Henry, by virtue of his plentitude of power, might 
 again have been divorced from his wife, but he did not 
 like to repeat himself, he wished to be always original; 
 and no one was to be allowed to say that his divorces were 
 only the cloak of his capricious lewdness. 
 
 " He had divorced Catharine of Aragon on account of 
 conscientious scruples; therefore, some other means must 
 be devised for Anne Boleyn. 
 
 " The shortest way to be rid of her was the scaffold. 
 Why should not Anne travel that road, since so many had 
 gone it before her? for a new force had entered into 
 the king's life: the tiger had licked blood! His instinct 
 was aroused, and he recoiled no more from those crimson 
 rills which flowed in the veins of his subjects. 
 
 " He had given Lady Anne Boleyn the crimson mantle 
 of royalty, why then should she not give him her crimson 
 blood? For this there was wanted only a pretext, and this 
 was soon found. Lady Kochfort was Jane Seymour's aunt, 
 and she found some men, of whom she asserted that they 
 had been lovers of the fair Anne Boleyn. She, as the 
 queen's first lady of the bed-chamber, could of course give 
 the most minute particulars concerning the matter, and 
 the king believed her. He believed her, though these 
 four pretended lovers of the queen, who were executed for 
 their crime, all, with the exception of a single one, assev- 
 erated that Anne Boleyn was innocent, and that they had 
 never been in her presence. The only one who accused 
 the queen of illicit intercourse with him was James Smea- 
 ton, a musician.* But he had been promised his life for 
 this confession. However, it was not thought advisable 
 to keep this promise, for fear that, when confronted with 
 the queen, he might not have the strength to sustain his 
 assertion. But not to be altogether unthankful to him 
 for so useful a confession, they showed him the favor of 
 
 • Tytler. 
 
QQ HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 not executing him with the axe, but the more agreeable 
 and easier death of hanging was vouchsafed to him.* 
 
 " So the fair and lovely Anne Boleyn must lay her 
 head upon the block. The day on which this took place, 
 the king had ordered a great hunt, and early that morning 
 we rode out to Epping Forest. The king was at first un- 
 usually cheerful and humorous, and he commanded me to 
 ride near him, and tell him something from the chronique 
 scandaleuse of our court. He laughed at my spiteful re- 
 marks, and the worse I calumniated, the merrier was the 
 king. Finally, we halted; the king had talked and 
 laughed so much that he had at last become hungry. So 
 he encamped under an oak, and, in the midst of his suite 
 and his dogs, he took a breakfast, which pleased him very 
 much, although he had now become a little quieter and 
 more silent, and sometimes turned his face toward the 
 direction of London with visible restlessness and anxiety. 
 But suddenly was heard from that direction the dull sound 
 of a cannon. We all knew that this was the signal which 
 was to make known to the king that Anne Boleyn's head 
 had fallen. "We knew it, and a shudder ran through our 
 whole frames. The king alone smiled, and as he arose 
 and took his weapon from my hand, he said, with cheer- 
 ful face, ' It is done, the business is finished. Unleash the 
 dogs, and let us follow the boar.' f 
 
 " That," said Lord Douglas, sadly, " that was King 
 Henry's funeral discourse over his charming and innocent 
 wife/' 
 
 "Do you regret her, my father?" asked Lady Jane, 
 with surprise. " But Anne Boleyn was, it seems to me, 
 an enemy of our Church, and an adherent of the accursed 
 new doctrine." 
 
 Her father shrugged his shoulders almost contemptu- 
 
 * Burnet, vol. i, p. 205. 
 
 f The king's very words. Tytler, p. 383. The oak under which 
 this took place is still pointed out in Epping Forest, and in fact is 
 not less remarkable as the oak of Charles II. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 67 
 
 ously. " That did not prevent Lady Anne from being one 
 of the fairest and loveliest women of Old England. And, 
 besides, much as she inclined to the new doctrine, she did 
 us essential good service, for she it was who bore the blame 
 of Thomas Move's death. Since he had not approved her 
 marriage with the king, she hated him, as the king hated 
 him because he would not take the oath of supremacy. 
 Henry, however, would have spared him, for, at that time, 
 he still possessed some respect for learning and virtue, and 
 Thomas More was so renowned a scholar that the king held 
 him in reverence. But Anne Boleyn demanded his death, 
 and so Thomas More must be executed. Oh, believe me, 
 Jane, that was an important and sad hour for all England, 
 the hour when Thomas More laid his head upon the block. 
 We only, we gay people in the palace of Whitehall, we were 
 cheerful and merry. We were dancing a new kind of 
 dance, the music of which was written by the king him- 
 self, for you know the king is not merely an author, but 
 also a composer, and as he now writes pious books, so he 
 then composed dances.* That evening, after we had 
 danced till we were tired, we played cards. Just as I had 
 won a few guineas from the king, the lieutenant of the 
 Tower came with the tidings that the execution was over, 
 and gave us a description of the last moments of the great 
 scholar. The king threw down his cards, and, turning an 
 angry look on Anne Boleyn, said, in an agitated voice, 
 ' You are to blame for the death of this man! ' Then he 
 arose and withdrew to his apartments, whither no one was 
 permitted to follow him, not even the queen, f You see, 
 then, that Anne Boleyn had a claim on our gratitude, for 
 the death of Thomas More delivered Old England from 
 another great peril. Melanchthon and Bucer, and with 
 them several of the greatest pulpit orators of Germany, 
 had set out to come to London, and, as delegates of the 
 Germanic Protestant princes, to nominate the king as 
 
 * Granger's " Biographical History of England," vol. i, p. 137. 
 f Tytler, p. 354. 
 
68 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 head of their alliance. But the terrible news of the exe- 
 cution of their friend frightened them back, and caused 
 them to return when half-way here.* 
 
 " Peace, then, to the ashes of unhappy Anne Boleyn! 
 However, she was avenged too, avenged on her successor 
 and rival, for whose sake she was made to mount the scaf- 
 fold — avenged on Jane Seymour." 
 
 " But she was the king's beloved wife," said Jane,. 
 " and when she died the king mourned for her two years." 
 
 "He mourned!" exclaimed Lord Douglas, contemptu- 
 ously. " He has mourned for all his wives. Even for 
 Anne Boleyn he put on mourning, and in his white mourn- 
 ing apparel, the day after Anne's execution, he led Jane 
 Seymour to the marriage altar, f This outward mourning, 
 what does it signify? Anne Boleyn also mourned for 
 Catharine of Aragon, whom she had pushed from the 
 throne. For eight weeks she was seen in yellow mourning 
 on account of Henry's first wife; but Anne Boleyn was a 
 shrewd woman, and she knew very well that the yellow 
 mourning dress was exceedingly becoming to her." % 
 
 " But the king's mourning was not merely external," 
 said Lady Jane. "He mourned really, for it was two 
 years before he resolved on a new marriage." 
 
 Earl Douglas laughed. " But he cheered himself dur- 
 ing these two years of widowhood with a very beautiful 
 mistress, the French Marchioness de Montreuil, and he 
 would have married her had not the prudent beauty pre- 
 ferred returning to France, because she found it altogether 
 too dangerous to become Henry's consort. For it is not 
 to be denied, a baleful star hovers over Henry's queens, 
 and none of them has descended from the throne in a 
 natural way." 
 
 " Yet, father, Jane Seymour did so in a very natural 
 way; she died in childbed." 
 
 " Well, yes, in childbed. And yet by no natural death, 
 
 * Tytler, p. 357. Leti, vol. i, p. 180. 
 f Granger, vol. i, p. 119. % Ibid. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. Q& 
 
 for she could have been saved. But Henry did not wish 
 to save her. His love had already grown cool, and when 
 the physicians asked him whether they should save the 
 mother or the child, he replied, ' Save the child, and let 
 the mother die. I can get wives enough.' * Ah, my 
 daughter, I hope you may not die such a natural death 
 as Jane Seymour did, for whom, as you say, the king 
 mourned two years. But after that period, something 
 new, something altogether extraordinary happened to the 
 king. He fell in love with a picture, and because, in 
 his proud self-conceit, he was convinced that the fine pic- 
 ture which Holbein had made of Mm, was not at all flat- 
 tered, but entirely true to nature, it did not occur to him 
 that Holbein's likeness of the Princess Anne of Cleves 
 might be somewhat nattered, and not altogether faithful. 
 So the king fell in love with a picture, and sent ambassa- 
 dors to Germany to bring the original of the portrait to- 
 England as his bride. He himself went to meet her at 
 Eochester, where she was to land. Ah, my child, I have 
 witnessed many queer and droll things in my eventful life,, 
 but the scene at Eochester, however, is among my most 
 spicy recollections. The king was as enthusiastic as a 
 poet, and deep in love as a youth of twenty, and so be- 
 gan our romantic wedding-trip, on which Henry disguised 
 himself and took part in it, assuming the name of my 
 cousin. As the king's master of horse, I was honored with 
 the commission of carrying to the young queen the greet- 
 ing of her ardent husband, and begging her to receive the* 
 knight, who would deliver to her a present from the king. 
 She granted my request with a grin which made visible a 
 frightful row of yellow teeth. I opened the door, and in- 
 vited the king to enter. Ah, you ought to have witnessed 
 that scene! It is the only farcial passage in the bloody 
 tragedy of Henry's married life. You should have seen 
 with what hasty impatience the king rushed in, then sud- 
 denly, at the sight of her, staggered back and stared at 
 
 * Burnet. 
 
70 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 the princess. Slowly retiring, he silently thrust into my 
 hand the rich present that he had brought, while at the 
 same time he threw a look of flaming wrath on Lord Crom- 
 well, who had brought him the portrait of the princess and 
 won him to this marriage. The romantic, ardent lover 
 vanished with this look at his beloved. He approached 
 the princess again — this time not as a cavalier, but, with 
 harsh and hasty words, he told her he was the king himself. 
 He bade her welcome in a few words, and gave her a cold, 
 formal embrace. He then hastily took my hand and drew 
 me out of the room, beckoning the rest to follow him. 
 And when at length we were out of the atmosphere of this 
 poor ugly princess, and far enough away from her, the king, 
 with angry countenance, said to Cromwell: ' Call you that 
 a beauty? She is a Flanders mare, but no princess/ * 
 Anne's ugliness was surely given her of God, that by it, 
 the Church, in which alone is salvation, might be delivered 
 from the great danger which threatened it. For had 
 Anne of Cleves, the sister, niece, granddaughter and aunt 
 of all the Protestant princes of Germany, been beautiful, 
 incalculable danger would have threatened our church. 
 The king could not overcome his repugnance, and again 
 his conscience, which always appeared to be most tender 
 and scrupulous, when it was farthest from it and most re- 
 gardless, must come to his aid. 
 
 " The king declared that he had been only in appear- 
 ance, not in his innermost conscience, disposed to this mar- 
 riage, from which he now shrank back, because it would be, 
 properly speaking, nothing more than perfidy, perjury, 
 and bigamy. For Anne's father had once betrothed her to 
 the son of the Duke of Lorraine, and had solemnly pledged 
 him his word to give her as a wife to the young duke as 
 soon as she was of age; rings had been exchanged and the 
 marriage contract already drawn up. Anne of Cleves, 
 therefore, was virtually already married, and Henry, with 
 his tender conscience, could not make one already married 
 
 * Burnet, p. 174, Tytler, p. 417. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 71 
 
 his wife.* He made her, therefore, his sister, and gave 
 her the palace at Eichmond for a residence, in case she 
 wished to remain in England. She accepted it; her blood, 
 which crept coldly and quietly through her veins, did not 
 rise at the thought of being despised and repudiated. She 
 accepted it, and remained in England. 
 
 u She was rejected because she was ugly; and now the 
 king selected Catharine Howard for his fifth consort, be- 
 cause she was pretty. Of this marriage I know but little 
 to tell you, for, at that time, I had already gone to Dublin 
 as minister, whither you soon followed me. Catharine was 
 very beautiful, and the king's heart, now growing old, once 
 more flamed high with youthful love. He loved her more 
 warmly than any other of his wives. He was so happy in 
 her that, kneeling down publicly in the church, with a 
 loud voice he thanked God for the happiness which his 
 beautiful young queen afforded him. But this did not 
 last long. Even while the king was extolling it, his happi- 
 ness had reached its highest point, and the next day he 
 was dashed down into the abyss. I speak without poetical 
 exaggeration, my child. The day before, he thanked God 
 for his happiness, and the next morning Catharine How- 
 ard was already imprisoned and accused, as an unfaithful 
 wife, a shameless strumpet, f More than seven lovers had 
 preceded her royal spouse, and some of them had accom- 
 panied her even on the progress through Yorkshire, which 
 she made with the king her husband. This time it was no 
 pretence, for he had not yet had time to fall in love with 
 another woman, and Catharine well knew how to enchain 
 him and ever to kindle new flames within him. But just 
 because he loved her, he could not forgive her for having 
 deceived him. In love there is so much cruelty and 
 hatred; and Henry, who but yesterday lay at her feet, 
 burned to-day with rage and jealousy, as yesterday with 
 love and rapture. In his rage, however, he still loved her, 
 and when he held in his hand indubitable proof of her 
 
 * Burnet. f Tytler, p. 432. 
 
72 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 guilt, he wept like a child. But since he could no longer 
 be her lover, he would be her hangman; since she had 
 spotted the crimson of his royal mantle, he would dye it 
 afresh with her own crimson blood. And he did so. Cath- 
 arine Howard was forced to lay her beautiful head upon 
 the block, as Anne Boleyn had done before her; and 
 Anne's death was now once more avenged. Lady Roch- 
 fort had been Anne Boleyn's accuser, and her testimony 
 had brought that queen to the scaffold; but now she was 
 convicted of being Catharine Howard's assistant and con- 
 fidante in her love adventures, and with Catharine, Lady 
 Eochfort also ascended the scaffold. 
 
 " Ah, the king needed a long time to recover from this 
 blow. He searched two years for a pure, uncontaminated 
 virgin, who might become his queen without danger of the 
 scaffold. But he found none; so he took then Lord Ne- 
 ville's widow, Catharine Parr. But you know, my child,, 
 that Catharine is an unlucky name for Henry's queens. 
 The first Catharine he repudiated, the second he beheaded. 
 What will he do with the third? " 
 
 Lady Jane smiled. " Catharine does not love him," 
 said she, "and I believe she would willingly consent, 
 like Anne of Cleves, to become his sister, instead of his 
 wife." 
 
 " Catharine does not love the king? " inquired Lord 
 Douglas, in breathless suspense. " She loves another, 
 then! " 
 
 " No, my father! Her heart is yet like a sheet of 
 white paper: no single name is yet inscribed there." 
 
 " Then we must write a name there, and this name 
 must drive her to the scaffold, or into banishment," said 
 her father impetuously. "It is your business, my child,, 
 to take a steel graver, and in some way write a name in 
 Catharine's heart so deep and indelibly, that the king may 
 some day read it there." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 73 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 Both now kept silent for a long time. Lord Douglas 
 had leaned back on the ottoman, and, respiring heavily, 
 seemed to breathe a little from the exertion of his long dis- 
 course. But while he rested, his large, piercing eyes were 
 constantly turned to Jane, who, leaning back on the cush- 
 ion, was staring thoughtfully into the empty air, and 
 seemed to be entirely forgetful of her father's presence. 
 
 A cunning smile played for a moment over the counte- 
 nance of the earl as he observed her, but it quickly disap- 
 peared, and now deep folds of care gathered on his brow. 
 
 As he saw that Lady Jane was plunging deeper and 
 deeper into reverie, he at length laid his hand on her 
 shoulder and hastily asked, "What are you thinking of, 
 Jane?" 
 
 She gave a sudden start, and looked at the earl with 
 an embarrassed air. 
 
 " I am thinking of all that you have been saying to me, 
 my father," replied she, calmly. " I am considering what 
 benefit to our object I can draw from it." 
 
 Lord Douglas shook his head, and smiled incredulously. 
 At length he said solemnly: " Take care, Jane, take care 
 that your heart does not deceive your head. If we would 
 reach our aim here, you must, above all things, maintain a 
 cool heart and a cool head. Do you still possess both, 
 Jane?" 
 
 In confusion she cast down her eyes before his pene- 
 trating look. Lord Douglas noticed it, and a passionate 
 word was already on his lips. But he kept it back. As a 
 prudent diplomat, he knew that it is often more politic to 
 destroy a thing by ignoring it, than to enter into an open 
 contest with it. The feelings are like the dragons' teeth 
 of Theseus. If you contend with them, they always grow 
 again anew, and with renewed energy, out of the soil. 
 6 
 
74 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 Lord Douglas, therefore, was very careful not to notice 
 his daughter's confusion. " Pardon me, my daughter, if, 
 in my zeal and my tender care for you, I go too far. I 
 know that your dear and beautiful head is cool enough to 
 wear a crown. I know that in your heart dwell only am- 
 bition and religion. Let us, then, further consider what 
 we have to do in order to attain our end. 
 
 " We have spoken of Henry as a husband, of Henry as 
 a man; and I hope you have drawn some useful lessons 
 from the fate of his wives. You have learned that it is 
 necessary to possess all the good and all the bad qualities 
 of woman in order to control this stiff-necked and tyran- 
 nical, this lustful and bigoted, this vain and sensual man, 
 whom the wrath of God has made King of England. You 
 must, before all things, be perfect master of the difficult 
 art of coquetry. You must become a female Proteus — to- 
 day a Messalina, to-morrow a nun; to-day one of the lite- 
 rati, to-morrow a playful child; you must ever seek to 
 surprise the king, to keep him on the stretch, to enliven 
 him. You must never give way to the dangerous feeling 
 of security, for in fact King Henry's wife is never safe. 
 The axe always hangs over her head, and you must ever 
 consider your husband as only a fickle lover, whom you 
 must every day captivate anew." 
 
 " You speak as though I were already queen," said 
 Lady Jane, smiling; " and yet I cannot but think that, in 
 order to come to that, many difficulties are to be overcome, 
 which may indeed perhaps be insuperable." 
 
 " Insuperable ! " exclaimed her father with a shrug of 
 the shoulders. "With the aid of the holy Church, no 
 hinderance is insuperable. Only, we must be perfectly 
 acquainted with our end and our means. Do not despise, 
 then, to sound the character of this king ever and again, 
 and be certain you will always find in him some new hid- 
 den recess, some surprising peculiarity. We have spoken 
 of him as a husband and the father of a family, but of his 
 religious and political standing I have as yet told you 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 75 
 
 nothing. And yet that, my child, is the principal point 
 in his whole character. 
 
 " In the first place, then, Jane, I will tell you a secret. 
 The king, who has constituted himself high-priest of his 
 Church — whom the pope once called ' the Knight of the 
 Truth and the Faith ' — the king has at the bottom of his 
 heart no religion. He is a wavering reed, which the wind 
 turns this way to-day, and that way to-morrow. He knows 
 not his own will, and, coquetting with both parties, to-day 
 he is a heretic, in order to exhibit himself as a strong, 
 unprejudiced, enlightened man; to-morrow a Catholic, in 
 order to show himself an obedient and humble servant of 
 God, who seeks and finds his happiness only in love and 
 piety. But for both confessions of faith he possesses at 
 heart a profound indifference; and had the pope at that 
 time placed no difficulties in his way, had he consented to 
 his divorce from Catharine, Henry would have always re- 
 mained a very good and active servant of the Catholic 
 Church. But they were imprudent enough to irritate 
 him by contradiction; they stimulated his vanity and 
 pride to resistance; and so Henry became a church re- 
 former, not from conviction, but out of pure love of opposi- 
 tion. And that, my child, you must never forget, for, by 
 means of this lever, you may very well convert him again 
 to a devout, dutiful, and obedient servant of our holy 
 Church. He has renounced the pope, and usurped the 
 supremacy of the Church, but he cannot summon up cour- 
 age to carry out his work and throw himself wholly into 
 the arms of the Reformation. However much he has op- 
 posed the person of the pope, still he has always remained 
 devoted to the Church, although perhaps he does not know 
 it himself. He is no Catholic, and he hears mass; he has 
 broken up the monasteries, and yet forbids priests to 
 marry; he has the Lord's supper administered under both 
 kinds, and believes in the real transubstantiation of the 
 wine into the Redeemer's holy blood. He destroys the 
 convents, and yet commands that vows of chastity, spoken 
 
*J6 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 by man or woman, must be faithfully kept; and lastly, 
 auricular confession is still a necessary constituent of his 
 Church. And these he calls his six articles,* and the 
 foundation of his English Church. Poor, short-sighted 
 and vain man! He knows not that he has done all this, 
 only because he wanted to be the pope himself, and he is 
 nothing more than an anti-pope of the Holy Father at 
 Eome, whom he, in his blasphemous pride, dares call ' the 
 Bishop of Eome/ * 
 
 " But, for this audacity," said Jane, with looks of burn- 
 ing rage, " the anathema has struck him and laid a curse 
 upon his head, and given him up to the hatred, contempt, 
 and scorn of his own subjects. Therefore, the Holy Fa- 
 ther has justly named him c the apostate and lost son, the 
 blaspheming usurper of the holy Church/ Therefore, the 
 pope has declared his crown forfeited, and promised it to 
 him who will vanquish him by force of arms. Therefore, 
 the pope has forbidden any of his subjects to obey him, 
 and respect and recognize him as king." f 
 
 "And yet he remains King of England, and his sub- 
 jects still obey him in slavish submission," exclaimed Earl 
 Douglas, shrugging his shoulders. " It is very unwise to 
 go so far in threats, for one should never threaten with 
 punishment which he is not likewise able to really execute. 
 This Eomish interdict has rather been an advantage to 
 the king, than done him harm, for it has forced the king 
 into haughtier opposition, and proved to his subjects that 
 a man may really be under an interdict, and yet in prosper- 
 ity and the full enjoyment of life." 
 
 " The pope's excommunication has not hurt the king 
 at all; his throne has not felt the slightest jar from it, but 
 the apostasy of the king has deprived the Holy See at 
 Eome of a very perceptible support; therefore we must 
 bring the faithless king back to the holy Church, for she 
 needs him. And this, my daughter, is the work that God 
 •and the will of His holy representative have placed in your 
 
 * Burnet, vol. i, p. 259. Tytler, p. 402. \ Leti, vol. i, p. 134. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 7f 
 
 hands. A noble, glorious, and at the same time profitable 
 work, for it makes you a queen! But I repeat, be cautious, 
 never irritate the king* by contradiction. Without their 
 knowing it, we must lead the wavering where salvation 
 awaits them. For, as we have said, he is a waverer; and in 
 the haughty pride of his royalty, he has the presumption 
 to wish to stand above all parties, and to be himself able 
 to found a new Church, a Church which is neither Catholic 
 nor Protestant, but his Church; to which, in the six 
 articles, the so-called ' Bloody Statute,' he has given its 
 laws. 
 
 "He will not be Protestant nor Catholic, and, in 
 order to show his impartiality, he is an equally terrible 
 persecutor of both parties. So that it has come to pass 
 that we must say, ' In England, Catholics are hanged, and 
 those not such are burned/ * It gives the king pleasure 
 to hold with steady and cruel hand the balance between 
 the two parties, and on the same day that he has a papist 
 incarcerated, because he has disputed the king's suprem- 
 acy, he has one of the reformed put upon the rack, because 
 he has denied the real transubstantiation of the wine, or 
 perhaps has disputed concerning the necessity of auricular 
 confession. Indeed, during the last session of Parliament, 
 five men were hanged because they disputed the suprem- 
 acy, and five others burned because they professed the re- 
 formed views! And this evening, Jane — this, the king's 
 wedding-night — by the special order of the king, who 
 wanted to show his impartiality as head of the Church, 
 Catholics and Protestants have been coupled together like 
 dogs, and hurried to the stake, the Catholics being con- 
 demned as traitors, and the others as heretics! " f 
 
 " Oh," said Jane, shuddering and turning pale , " I will 
 not be Queen of England. I have a horror of this cruel, 
 savage king, whose heart is wholly without compassion or 
 pity!" 
 
 Her father laughed. " Do you not then know, child, 
 
 * Leti, vol. i, p. 142. f Tytler, p. 28. 
 
78 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 how you can make the hyena gentle, and the tiger tame? 
 Yon throw them again and again a fresh prey, which they 
 may devour, and since they love blood so dearly, you con- 
 stantly give them blood to drink, so that they may never 
 thirst for it. The king's only steady and unchanging 
 peculiarity is his cruelty and delight in blood; one then 
 must always have some food ready for these, then he 
 will ever be a very affectionate and gracious king and 
 husband. 
 
 " And there is no lack of objects for this bloodthirsti- 
 ness. There are so many men and women at his court, 
 and when he is precisely in a bloodthirsty humor, it is 
 •all the same to Henry whose blood he drinks. He has 
 shed the blood of his wives and relatives; he has exe- 
 cuted those whom he called his most confidential friends; 
 he has sent the noblest men of his kingdom to the 
 scaffold. 
 
 " Thomas More knew him very well, and in a few strik- 
 ing words he summed up the whole of the king's character. 
 Ah, it seems to me that I see now the quiet and gentle face 
 of this wise man, as I saw him standing in yonder bay- 
 window, and near him the king, his arms around the neck 
 of High-Chancellor More, and listening to his discourse 
 with a kind of reverential devotion. And when the king 
 had gone, I walked up to Thomas More and congratulated 
 him on the high and world-renowned favor in which he 
 stood with the king. ' The king really loves you/ said I. 
 ' Yes,' replied he, with his quiet, sad smile, ' yes, the king 
 truly loves me. But that would not for one moment hin- 
 der him from giving my head for a valuable diamond, a 
 beautiful woman, or a hand's breadth of land in France.' * 
 He was right, and for a beautiful woman, the head of this 
 sage had to fall, of whom the most Christian emperor and 
 king, Charles V., said: ' Had I been the master of such a 
 servant, of whose ability and greatness we have had so 
 much experience for many years; had I possessed an ad- 
 
 * Leti, vol. i, p. 194. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 79 
 
 viser so wise and earnest as Thomas More was, I would 
 rather have lost the best city of my realm, than so worthy 
 a servant and counsellor/ * 
 
 " No, Jane, be that your first and most sacred rule, 
 never to trust the king, and never reckon on the duration 
 of his affection and the manifestations of his favor. For, 
 in the perfidy of his heart, it often pleases him to load 
 with tokens of his favor those whose destruction he has al- 
 ready resolved upon, to adorn and decorate with orders and 
 jewels to-day those whom to-morrow he is going to put to 
 death. It natters his self-complacency, like the lion, to 
 play a little with the puppy he is about to devour. Thus 
 did he with Cromwell, for many years his counsellor and 
 friend, who had committed no other crime than that 
 of having first exhibited to the king the portrait of the 
 ugly Anne of Cleves, whom Holbein had turned into a 
 beauty. But the king took good care not to be angry 
 with Cromwell, or to reproach him for it. Much more 
 — in recognition of his great services, he raised him to 
 the earldom of Essex, decorated him with the Order 
 of the Garter and appointed him lord chamberlain; and 
 then, when Cromwell felt perfectly secure and proudly 
 basked in the sunshine of royal favor, then all at once 
 the king had him arrested and dragged to the tower, 
 in order to accuse him of high treason, f And so Crom- 
 well was executed, because Anne of Cleves did not please 
 the king, and because Hans Holbein had flattered her 
 picture. 
 
 " But now we have had enough of the past, Jane. 
 Now let us speak of the present and of the future, my 
 daughter. Let us now first of all devise the means to 
 overthrow this woman who stands in our way. When she 
 is once overthrown, it will not be very difficult for us to 
 put you in her place. For you are now here, near the 
 king. The great mistake in our earlier efforts was, that 
 we were not present and could work only through go- 
 
 * Tytler, p. 354. \ Ibid, p. 423. 
 
80 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 betweens and confidants. The king did not see you, and 
 since the unlucky affair with Anne of Cleves he mistrusts 
 likenesses; I very well knew that, for I, my child, confide 
 in no one, not even in the most faithful and noblest 
 friends. I rely upon nobody but ourselves. Had we been 
 here, you would now be Queen of England instead of Cath- 
 arine Parr. But, to our misfortune, I was still the fa- 
 vorite of the Eegent of Scotland, and as such, I could not 
 venture to approach Henry. It was necessary that I 
 should fall into disgrace there, in order to be again sure of 
 the king's favor here. 
 
 " So I fell into disgrace and fled with you hither. 
 Now, then, here we are, and let the fight begin. And 
 you have to-day already taken an important step toward 
 our end. You have attracted the notice of the king, 
 and established yourself still more securely in the favor of 
 Catharine. I confess, Jane, I am charmed with your 
 prudent conduct. You have this day won the hearts 
 of all parties, and it was wonderfully shrewd in you to 
 come to the aid of the Earl of Surrey, as you at the same 
 time won to you the heretical party, to which Anne Askew 
 belongs. Oh, it was indeed, Jane, a stroke of policy that 
 you made. For the Howard family is the most powerful 
 and greatest at court, and Henry, Earl of Surrey, is one of 
 its noblest representatives. Therefore we have now al- 
 ready a powerful party at court, which has in view only 
 the high and holy aim of securing a victory for the holy 
 Church, and which quietly and silently works only for this 
 — to again reconcile the king to the pope. Henry How- 
 ard, Earl of Surrey, like his father, the Duke of Norfolk, is 
 a good Catholic, as his niece Catharine Howard was; only 
 she, besides God and the Church, was a little too fond of 
 the images of God — fine-looking men. It was this that 
 gave the victory to the other party, and forced the Catho- 
 lic to succumb to the heretical party at court. Yes, for 
 the moment, Cranmer with Catharine has got the better 
 of us, but soon Gardiner with Jane Douglas will overcome 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 81 
 
 the heretics, and send them to the scaffold. That is our 
 plan, and, God permitting, we will carry it out." 
 
 "But it will be a difficult undertaking," said Lady 
 Jane, with a sigh. " The queen is a pure, transparent 
 soul; she has a shrewd head and a clear glance. She is, 
 moreover, guileless in her thoughts, and recoils with true 
 maidenly timidity from every sin." 
 
 " We must cure her of this timidity, and that is your 
 task, Jane. You must despoil her of these strict notions 
 about virtue. With nattering voice you must ensnare her 
 heart, and entice it to sin." 
 
 " Oh, that is an infernal plot! " said Lady Jane, turning 
 pale. " That, my father, would be a crime, for that 
 would be not only destroying her earthly happiness, but 
 also imperilling her soul. I must entice her to a crime; 
 that is your dishonorable demand! But I will not obey 
 you! It is true, I hate her, for she stands in the way of 
 my ambition. It is true I will destroy her, for she wears 
 the crown which I wish to possess; but never will I be so 
 base as to pour into her very heart the poison by which she 
 shall fall. Let her seek the poison for herself; I will not 
 hold back her hand; I will not warn her. Let her seek 
 the ways of sin herself: I will not tell her that she has 
 erred; but I will, from afar, dog her, and watch each step, 
 and listen for every word and sigh, and when she has com- 
 mitted a crime, then I will betray her, and deliver her up 
 to her judges. That is what I can and will do. I will be 
 the demon to drive her from paradise in God's name, but 
 not the serpent to entice her in the devil's name to sin." 
 
 She paused, and, panting for breath, sunk back upon 
 the cushion; but her father's hand was laid upon her 
 shoulder with a convulsive grip, and pale with rage and 
 with eyes flashing with anger, he stared at her. 
 
 A cry of terror burst from Lady Jane. She, who never 
 had seen her father but smiling and full of kindness, 
 scarcely recognized that countenance, distorted with rage. 
 She could scarcely convince herself that this man, with 
 
82 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 eyes darting fire, scowling eyebrows and lips quivering 
 with rage, was really her father. 
 
 " You will not? " exclaimed he, with a hollow, threat- 
 ening voice. " You dare rebel against the holy commands 
 of the Church? Have you, then, forgotten what you prom- 
 ised to the Holy Fathers, whose pupil you are ? Have you 
 forgotten that the brothers and sisters of the Holy League 
 are permitted to have no other will than that of their 
 masters! Have you forgotten the sublime vow which you 
 made to our master, Ignatius Loyola? Answer me, un- 
 faithful and disobedient daughter of the Church! Kepeat 
 to me the oath which you took when he received you into 
 the holy Society of the Disciples of Jesus! Kepeat your 
 oath, I say! * 
 
 As if constrained by an invisible power, Jane had 
 arisen, and now stood, her hands folded across her breast, 
 submissive and trembling before her father, whose erect, 
 proud, and wrathful form towered above her. 
 
 " I have sworn," said she, " to subject my own thought, 
 and will, my life, and endeavors, obediently to the will of 
 the Holy Father. I have sworn to be a blind tool in the 
 hands of my masters, and to do only what they command 
 and enjoin. I have vowed to serve the holy Church, in 
 which alone is salvation, in every way and with all the 
 means at my command; and I will despise none of these 
 means, consider none trifling, disdain none, provided it 
 leads to the end. For the end sanctifies the means, and 
 nothing is a sin which is done for the honor of God and 
 the Church! » 
 
 "Ad majorem Dei gloriam! " said her father, devoutly 
 folding his hands. "And you know what awaits you, if 
 you violate your oath? " 
 
 "Earthly disgrace and eternal destruction await me. 
 The curse of all my brethren and sisters awaits me — eter- 
 nal damnation and punishment. With thousands of tor- 
 ments and tortures of the rack, will the Holy Fathers put 
 me to death; and as they kill my body and throw it as food 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 83 
 
 to the beasts of prey, they will curse my soul and deliver 
 it over to purgatory." 
 
 " And what awaits you if you remain faithful to your 
 oath, and obey the commands given you? " 
 
 " Honor and glory on earth, besides eternal blessedness 
 in heaven." 
 
 " Then you will be a queen on earth and a queen in 
 heaven. You know, then, the sacred laws of the society, 
 and you remember your oath? " 
 
 " I remember it." 
 
 a And you know that the holy Loyola, before he left us, 
 gave the Society of Jesus, in England, a master and gen- 
 eral, whom all the brethren and sisters must serve and sub- 
 mit to, to whom they owe blind obedience and service with- 
 out questioning?" 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " And you know, likewise, by what sign the associates 
 may recognize the general? " 
 
 " By Loyola's ring, which he wears on the forefinger of 
 his right hand." 
 
 " Behold here this ring! " said the earl, drawing his 
 hand out of his doublet. 
 
 Lady Jane uttered a cry, and sank almost senseless at 
 his feet. 
 
 Lord Douglas, smiling graciously, raised her in his 
 arms. " You see, Jane, I am not merely your father, but 
 your master also. And you will obey me, will you not? " 
 
 " I will obey! " said she, almost inaudibly, as she kissed 
 the hand with the fatal ring. 
 
 " You will be to Catharine Parr, as you have expressed 
 it, the serpent, that seduces her to sin? " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " You will beguile her into sin, and entice her to in- 
 dulge a love which must lead her to destruction? " 
 
 " I will do it, my father." 
 
 " I will now tell you whom she is to love, and who is 
 to be the instrument of destruction. You will so man- 
 
84: HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 age the queen that she will love Henry Howard, Earl of 
 Surrey." 
 
 Jane uttered a scream, and clung to the back of a chair 
 to keep from falling. 
 
 Her father observed her with penetrating, angry looks. 
 " What ^ieans this outcry? Why does this choice surprise 
 you? ?; asked he. 
 
 Lady Jane had already gained her self-possession. " It 
 surprised me," said she, " because the earl is betrothed." 
 
 A singular smile played about the earl's lips. " It is 
 not the first time," said he, " that even a man already mar- 
 ried has become dangerous to a woman's heart, and often 
 the very impossibility of possession adds fuel to the flames 
 of love. Woman's heart is ever so full of selfishness and 
 contradiction." 
 
 Lady Jane cast down her eyes, and made no reply. 
 She felt that the piercing and penetrating look of her fa- 
 ther was resting on her face. She knew that, just then, 
 he was reading her soul, although she did not look at him. 
 
 " Then you no longer refuse ? " asked he, at length. 
 " You will inspire the young queen with love for the Earl 
 of Surrey? " 
 
 " I will endeavor to do it, my father." 
 
 " If you try, with a real and energetic determination to 
 succeed, you will prevail. For, as you said, the queen's 
 heart is still free; it is, then, like a fruitful soil, which is 
 only waiting for some one to sow the seed in it, to bring 
 forth flowers and fruit. Catharine Parr does not love the 
 king; you will, then, teach her to love Henry Howard." 
 
 " Yet, my father," said Lady Jane, with a sarcastic 
 smile, " to bring about this result, one must, before all 
 things, be acquainted with a magic spell, through the 
 might of which the earl will first glow with love for Cath- 
 arine. For the queen has a proud soul, and she will never 
 so forget her dignity as to love a man who is not inflamed 
 with an ardent passion for her. But the earl has not 
 only a bride, but, as it is said, a mistress also." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 85 
 
 "Ah! you consider it, then, perfectly unworthy of a 
 woman to love a man who does not adore her? " asked the 
 earl, in a significant tone. " I am rejoiced to hear this 
 from my daughter, and thus to be certain that she will 
 not fall in love with the Earl of Surrey, who is every- 
 where else called 'the lady-killer.' And if you have in- 
 formed yourself in so surprising a manner as to the earl's 
 private relations, you have done so, without doubt, only 
 because your sagacious and subtle head has already guessed 
 what commission I would give you with respect to the earl. 
 Besides, my daughter, you are in error: and if a certain 
 high, but not on that account the less very unfortunate 
 lady, should happen to really love the Earl of Surrey, her 
 lot will, perhaps, be the common one — to practise resigna- 
 tion." 
 
 An expression of joyful surprise passed over the 
 countenance of Lady Jane, while her father thus spoke; 
 but it was forced to instantly give way to a deathly pale- 
 ness, as the earl added: "Henry Howard is destined for 
 Catharine Parr, and you are to help her to love so hotly 
 this proud, handsome earl, who is a faithful servant of the 
 Church, wherein alone is salvation, that she will forget all 
 considerations and all dangers." 
 
 Lady Jane ventured one more objection. She caught 
 eagerly at her father's words, to seek still for some way 
 of escape. 
 
 " You call the earl a faithful servant of our Church," 
 said she, " and yet you would implicate him also in your 
 dangerous plot? You have not, then, my father, consid- 
 ered that it is just as pernicious to love the queen as to 
 be loved by her? And, without doubt, if love for the Earl 
 of Surrey bring the queen to the scaffold, the head of 
 the earl will fall at the same time, no matter whether he 
 return her love or not." 
 
 The earl shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " When the question is about the weal of the Church 
 and our holy religion, the danger which, thereby, it may 
 
86 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 be, threatens one of our number, must not frighten us 
 back. Holy sacrifices must be always offered to a holy 
 cause. Well and good, then, let the earl's head fall, pro- 
 vided the only saving Church gains new vigor from this 
 blood of martyrs. But see, Jane, the morning already be- 
 gins to dawn, and I must hasten to leave you, lest these 
 courtiers, ever given to slandering, may in some way or 
 other take the father for a lover, and cast suspicion on 
 the immaculate virtue of my Jane. Farewell, then, my 
 daughter! We both, now, know our roles, and will take 
 care to play them with success. You are the friend and 
 confidante of the queen, and I the harmless courtier, who 
 tries, now and then, to gain a smile from the king by some 
 kind and merry jest. That is all. Good-morning, then, 
 Jane, and good-night. For you must sleep, my child, so 
 that your cheeks may remain fresh and your eyes bright. 
 The king hates pining pale-faces. Sleep, then, future 
 Queen of England! " 
 
 He gently kissed her forehead, and left the room with 
 lingering step. 
 
 Lady Jane stood and listened to the sound of his foot- 
 steps gradually dying away, when she sank on her knees, 
 wholly crushed, utterly stunned. 
 
 " My God, my God! " murmured she, while streams of 
 tears flooded her face, " and I am to inspire the queen with 
 love for the Earl of Surrey, and I — I love him! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 LENDEMAIN. 
 
 The great levee was over. Sitting beside the king on 
 the throne, Catharine had received the congratulations of 
 her court; and the king's smiling look, and the tender 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 87 
 
 words which, in undertone, he now and then addressed to 
 the queen, had manifested to the prudent and expert cour- 
 tiers that the king was to-day just as much enamored of 
 his young consort as he had been yesterday of his bride. 
 Therefore, every one exerted himself to please the queen, 
 and to catch every look, every smile, which she let fall, 
 like sunbeams, here and there, in order to see for whom 
 they were intended, so that they might, perchance, by 
 this means, divine who were to be the future favorites 
 of the queen, and be the first to become intimate with 
 them. 
 
 But the young queen directed her looks to no one in 
 particular. She was friendly and smiling, yet one felt 
 that this friendliness was constrained, this smile full of 
 sadness. The king alone did not notice it. He was cheer- 
 ful and happy, and it seemed to him, therefore, that no- 
 body at his court could dare sigh when he, the king, was 
 satisfied. 
 
 After the grand presentation, at which all the great 
 and noble of the realm had passed in formal procession be- 
 fore the royal pair, the king had, according to the court 
 etiquette of the time, given his hand to his consort, led her 
 down from the throne and conducted her to the middle of 
 the hall, in order to present to her the personages in wait- 
 ing at her court. 
 
 But this walk from the throne to the centre of the hall 
 had greatly fatigued the king; this promenade of thirty 
 steps was for him a very unusual and troublesome perform- 
 ance, and the king longed to change to something else 
 more agreeable. So he beckoned to the chief master of 
 ceremonies, and bade him open the door leading into the 
 dining-room. Then he ordered his " house equipage " to 
 be brought up, and, seating himself in it with the utmost 
 stateliness, he had the sedan kept at the queen's side, 
 waiting impatiently till the presentation should at last 
 conclude, and Catharine accompany him to lunch. 
 
 The announcements of the maids of honor and female 
 
88 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 attendants had been already made, and now came the gen- 
 tlemen's turn. 
 
 The chief master of ceremonies read from his list the 
 names of those cavaliers who were, henceforth, to be in 
 waiting near the queen, and which names the king had 
 written down with his own hand. And at each new ap- 
 pointment a slight expression of pleased astonishment 
 flitted across the faces of the assembled courtiers, for it was 
 always one of the youngest, handsomest, and most amiable 
 lords whom the master of ceremonies had to name. 
 
 Perhaps the king proposed to play a cruel game at 
 hazard, in surrounding his consort with the young men 
 of his court; he wished to plunge her into the midst of 
 danger, either to let her perish there, or, by her avoiding 
 danger, to be able to place the unimpeachable virtue of 
 his young wife in the clearest light. 
 
 The list had begun with the less important offices, 
 and, ever ascending higher, they now came to positions the 
 highest and of greatest consequence. 
 
 Still the queen's master of horse and the chamberlain 
 had not been named, and these were without doubt the 
 most important charges at the queen's court. For one or 
 the. other of these officers was always very near the queen. 
 When she was in the palace, the lord of the chamber had 
 to remain in the anteroom, and no one could approach the 
 queen but through his mediation. To him the queen had 
 to give her orders with regard to the schemes and pleasures 
 of the day. He was to contrive new diversions and amuse- 
 ments. He had the right of joining the queen's narrow 
 evening circle, and to stand behind the queen's chair when 
 the royal pair, at times, desired to sup without ceremony. 
 
 This place of chief chamberlain was, therefore, a very 
 important one; for since it confined him a large part of 
 the day in the queen's presence, it was scarcely avoidable 
 that the lord chamberlain should become either the confi- 
 dential and attentive friend, or the malevolent and lurk- 
 ing enemy of the queen! 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 89 
 
 But the place of master of horse was of no less conse- 
 quence. For as soon as the queen left the palace, whether 
 on foot or in a carriage, whether to ride in the forest or to 
 glide down tho Thames in her gilded yacht, the master of 
 horse must be ever at her side, must ever attend her. In- 
 deed, this service was still more exclusive, still more impor- 
 tant. For, though the queen's apartments were open to 
 the lord chamberlain, yet, however, he was never alone 
 with her. The attending maids of honor were always 
 present and prevented there being any tetes-d-tetes or in- 
 timacy between the queen and her chamberlain. 
 
 But with the master of horse it was different — -since 
 many opportunities presented themselves, when he could 
 approach the queen unnoticed, or at least speak to her 
 without being overheard. He had to offer her his hand to 
 assist her in entering her carriage; he could ride near the 
 door of her coach; he accompanied her on water excur- 
 sions and pleasure rides, and these last were so much the 
 more important because they afforded him, to a certain ex- 
 tent, opportunity for a tete-a-tete with the queen. For 
 only the master of horse was permitted to ride at her 
 side; he even had precedence of the ladies of the suite, so 
 as to be able to give the queen immediate assistance in 
 case of any accident, or the stumbling of her horse. 
 Therefore, no one of the suite could perceive what the 
 queen said to the master of horse when he rode at her 
 side. 
 
 It was understood, therefore, how influential this place 
 might be. Besides, when the queen was at Whitehall, the 
 king was almost always near her; while, thanks to his 
 daily increasing corpulency, he was not exactly in a condi- 
 tion to leave the palace otherwise than in a carriage. 
 
 It was therefore very natural that the whole company 
 at court awaited with eager attention and bated breath 
 the moment when the master of ceremonies would name 
 these two important personages, whose names had been 
 kept so secret that nobody had yet learned them. That 
 7 
 
90 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 morning, just before he handed the list to the master of 
 ceremonies, the king had written down these two names- 
 with his own hand. 
 
 Not the court only, but also the king himself, was- 
 watching for these two names. For he wished to see the 
 effect of them, and, by the different expression of faces,, 
 estimate the number of the friends of these two nominees. 
 The young queen alone exhibited the same unconcerned 
 affability; her heart only beat with uniform calmness, for 
 she did not once suspect the importance of the moment. 
 
 Even the voice of the master of ceremonies trembled 
 slightly, as he now read, " To the place of high chamber- 
 lain to the queen, his majesty appoints my Lord Henry 
 Howard, Earl of Surrey." 
 
 An approving murmur was heard, and almost all faces 
 manifested glad surprise. 
 
 " He has a great many friends," muttered the king. 
 "He is dangerous, then! " An angry look darted from his 
 eyes upon the young earl, who was now approaching the 
 queen, to bend his knee before her and to press to his lips- 
 the proffered hand. 
 
 Behind the queen stood Lady Jane, and as she beheld 
 thus close before her the young man, so handsome,, so long 
 yearned for, and so secretly adored; and as she thought of 
 her oath, she felt a violent pang, raging jealousy, killing 
 hatred toward the young queen, who had, it is true, with- 
 out suspecting it, robbed her of the loved one, and con- 
 demned her to the terrible torture of pandering to her. 
 
 The chief master of ceremonies now read in a loud sol- 
 emn voice, " To the place of master of horse, his majesty 
 appoints my Lord Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sudley." 
 
 It was very well that the king had at that moment di- 
 rected his whole attention to his courtiers, and sought to 
 read in their appearance the impression made by this nomi- 
 nation. 
 
 Had he observed his consort, he would have seen that 
 an expression of delighted surprise flitted across Cath- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 91 
 
 arine's countenance, and a charming smile played round 
 her lips. 
 
 But the king, as we have said, thought only of his 
 court; he saw only that the number of those who rejoiced 
 at Seymour's appointment did not come up to that of those 
 who received Surrey's nomination with so much applause. 
 
 Henry frowned and muttered to himself, " These How- 
 ards are too powerful. I will keep a watchful eye upon 
 them." 
 
 Thomas Seymour approached the queen, and, bending 
 his knee before her, kissed her hand. Catharine received 
 him with a gracious smile. " My lord," said she, " you will 
 at once enter on service with me, and indeed, as I hope, in 
 such manner as will be acceptable to the whole court. My 
 lord, take the fleetest of your coursers, and hasten to 
 Castle Holt, where the Princess Elizabeth is staying. 
 Carry her this letter from her royal father, and she will 
 follow you hither. Tell her that I long to embrace in her 
 a friend and sister, and that I pray her to pardon me if I 
 cannot give up to her exclusively the heart of her king 
 and father, but that I also must still keep a place in the 
 same for myself. Hasten to Castle Holt, my lord, and 
 bring us Princess Elizabeth." 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE KING'S FOOL. 
 
 Two years had passed away since the king's marriage, 
 and still Catharine Parr had always kept in favor with her 
 husband; still her enemies were foiled in their attempts 
 to ruin her, and raise the seventh queen to the throne. 
 
 Catharine had ever been cautious, ever discreet. She 
 had always preserved a cold heart and a cool head. Each 
 
92 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 morning she had said to herself that this day might be her 
 last; that some incautious word, some inconsiderate act, 
 might deprive her of her crown and her life. For Henry's 
 savage and cruel disposition seemed, like his corpulency, to 
 increase daily, and it needed only a trifle to inflame him 
 to the highest pitch of rage — rage which, each time, fell 
 with fatal stroke on him who aroused it. 
 
 A knowledge and consciousness of this had made the 
 queen cautious. She did not wish to die yet. She still 
 loved life so much. She loved it because it had as yet 
 afforded her so little delight. She loved it because she 
 had so much happiness, so much rapture and enjoyment 
 yet to hope from it. She did not wish to die yet, for she 
 was ever waiting for that life of which she had a fore- 
 taste only in her dreams, and which her palpitating and 
 swelling heart told her was ready to awake in her, and, 
 with its sunny, brilliant eyes, arouse her from the winter 
 sleep of her existence. 
 
 It was a bright and beautiful spring day. Catharine 
 wanted to avail herself of it, to take a ride and forget for 
 one brief hour that she was a queen. She wanted to enjoy 
 the woods, the sweet May breeze, the song of birds, the 
 green meadows, and to inhale in full draughts the pure air. 
 
 She wanted to ride. Nobody suspected how much 
 secret delight and hidden rapture lay in these words. No 
 one suspected that for months she had been looking for- 
 ward with pleasure to this ride, and scarcely dared to wish 
 for it, just because it would be the fulfilment of her ardent 
 wishes. 
 
 She was already dressed in her riding-habit, and the 
 little red velvet hat, with its long, drooping white feather, 
 adorned her beautiful head. Walking up and down the 
 room, she was waiting only for the return of the lord 
 chamberlain, whom she had sent to the king to inquire 
 whether he wished to speak with her before her ride. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened, and a strange apparition 
 showed itself on the threshold. It was a small, compact 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 93 
 
 masculine figure, clad in vesture of crimson silk, which was 
 trimmed in a style showy and motley enough, with 
 puffs and bows of all colors, and which, just on account 
 of its motley appearance, contrasted strangely enough 
 with the man's white hair, and earnest and sombre 
 face. 
 
 "Ah, the king's fool," said Catharine, with a merry 
 laugh. "Well, John, what is it that brings you here? 
 Do you bring me a message from the king, or have you 
 made a bold hit, and wish me to take you again under my 
 protection?" 
 
 " No, queen," said John Heywood, seriously, " I have 
 made no bold hit, nor do I bring a message from the king. 
 I bring nothing but myself. Ah, queen, I see you want to 
 laugh, but I pray you forget for a moment that John Hey- 
 wood is the king's fool, and that it does not become him to 
 wear a serious face and indulge sad thoughts like other 
 men." 
 
 " Oh, I know that you are not merely the king's 
 fool, but a poet also," said Catharine, with a gracious 
 smile. 
 
 " Yes," said he, "lama poet, and therefore it is alto- 
 gether proper for me to wear this fool's cap, for poets are 
 all fools, and it were better for them to be hung on the 
 nearest tree instead of being permitted to run about in 
 their crazy enthusiasm, and babble things on account of 
 which people of sense despise and ridicule them. I am a 
 poet, and therefore, queen, I have put on this fool's dress, 
 which places me under the king's protection, and allows 
 me to say to him all sorts of things which nobody else has 
 the courage to speak out. But to-day, queen, I come to 
 you neither as a fool nor as a poet, but I come to you be- 
 cause I wish to cling to your knees and kiss your feet. I 
 come because I wish to tell you that you have made John 
 Heywood forever your slave. He will from this time forth 
 lie like a dog before your threshold and guard you from 
 every enemy and every evil which may press upon you. 
 
94 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Night and day he will be ready for your service, and know- 
 neither repose nor rest, if it is necessary to fulfil your 
 command or your wish." 
 
 As he thus spoke, with trembling voice and eyes 
 dimmed with tears, he knelt down and bowed his head at 
 Catharine's feet. 
 
 " But what have I done to inspire you with such a feel- 
 ing of thankfulness? n asked Catharine with astonishment. 
 " How have I deserved that you, the powerful and univer- 
 sally dreaded favorite of the king, should dedicate yourself 
 to my service ? " 
 
 "What have you done?" said he. "My lady, you 
 have saved my son from the stake ! They had condemned 
 him — that handsome noble youth — condemned him, be- 
 cause he had spoken respectfully of Thomas More; because 
 he said this great and noble man did right to die, rather 
 than be false to his convictions. Ah, nowadays, it requires 
 such a trifle to condemn a man to death! a couple of 
 thoughtless words are sufficient! And this miserable, lick- 
 spittle Parliament, in its dastardliness and worthlessness, 
 always condemns and sentences, because it knows that the 
 king is always thirsty for blood, and always wants the fires 
 of the stake to keep him warm. So they had condemned 
 my son likewise, and they would have executed him, but 
 for you. But you, whom God has sent as an angel of 
 reconciliation on this regal throne reeking with blood; 
 you who daily risk your life and your crown to save the 
 life of some one of those unfortunates whom fanaticism 
 and thirst for blood have sentenced, and to procure their 
 pardon, you have save my son also." 
 
 "How! that young man who was to be burned yester- 
 day, was your son? * 
 
 " Yes, he was my son." 
 
 "And you did not tell the king so? and you did not 
 intercede for him? " 
 
 " Had I done so, he would have been irretrievably lostf 
 For you well know the king is so proud of his impar- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 95 
 
 tiality and his virtue! Oh, had he known that Thomas is 
 my son he would have condemned him to death, to show 
 the people that Henry the Eighth everywhere strikes the 
 guilty and punishes the sinner, whatever name he may 
 bear, and whoever may intercede for him. Ah, even your 
 supplication would not have softened him, for the high- 
 priest of the English Church could never have pardoned 
 this young man for not being the legitimate son of his fa- 
 ther, for not having the right to bear his name, because 
 his mother was the spouse of another man whom Thomas 
 must call father." 
 
 " Poor Hey wood! Yes, now I understand. The king 
 would, indeed, never have forgiven this; and had he 
 known it, your son would have inevitably been condemned 
 to the stake." 
 
 " You saved him, queen! Do you not believe now that 
 I shall be forever thankful to you? " 
 
 * I do believe it," said the queen, with a pleasant smile, 
 as she extended her hand for him to kiss. " I believe you, 
 and I accept your service." 
 
 a And you will need it, queen, for a tempest is gather- 
 ing over your head, and soon the lightning will flash and 
 the thunders roll." 
 
 " Oh, I fear not! I have strong nerves! " said Catha- 
 rine, smiling. " When a storm comes, it is but a refresh- 
 ing of nature, and I have always seen that after a storm 
 the sun shines again." 
 
 " You are a brave soul! " said John Hey wood, sadly. 
 
 " That is, I am conscious of no guilt! " 
 
 " But your enemies will invent a crime to charge you 
 with. Ah, as soon as it is the aim to calumniate a neigh- 
 bor and plunge him in misery, men are all poets! " 
 
 " But you just now said that poets are crack-brained, 
 and should be hung to the first tree. We will, therefore, 
 treat these slanderers as poets, that is all." 
 
 "No, that is not all!" said John Heywood, energeti- 
 cally. "For slanderers are like earth-worms. You cut 
 
96 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 them in pieces, but instead of thereby killing them, you 
 multiply each one and give it several heads." 
 
 " But what is it, then, that I am accused of? " ex- 
 claimed Catharine, impatiently. " Does not my life lie 
 open and clear before you all? Do I ever take pains to 
 have any secrets? Is not my heart like a glass house, into 
 which you can all look, to convince yourselves that it is a 
 soil wholly unfruitful, and that not a single poor little 
 flower grows there ? " 
 
 " Though this be so, your enemies will sow weeds and 
 make the king believe that it is burning love which has 
 grown up in your heart." 
 
 " How! They will accuse me of having a love-affair? " 
 asked Catharine, and her lips slightly trembled. 
 
 " I do not know their plans yet; but I will find them 
 out. There is a conspiracy at work. Therefore, queen, 
 be on your guard! Trust nobody, for foes are ever wont 
 to conceal themselves under hypocritical faces and deceiv- 
 ing words." 
 
 "If you know my enemies," name them to me!" said 
 Catharine, impatiently. " Name them to me, that I may 
 beware of them." 
 
 * I have not come to accuse anybody, but to warn you. 
 I shall, therefore, take good care not to point out your ene- 
 mies to you; but I will name your friends to you." 
 
 " Ah, then, I have friends, too! " whispered Catharine, 
 with a happy smile. 
 
 " Yes, you have friends; and, indeed, such as are ready 
 to give their blood and life for you." 
 
 " Oh, name them, name them to me ! " exclaimed 
 Catharine, all of a tremble with joyful expectation. 
 
 " I name first, Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury. 
 He is your true and staunch friend, on whom you can build. 
 He loves you as queen, and he prizes you as the associate 
 whom God has sent him to bring to completion, here at 
 the court of this most Christian and bloody king, the holy 
 work of the Eeformation, and to cause the light of knowl- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 97 
 
 edge to illuminate this night of superstition and priestly 
 domination. Build strongly on Cranmer, for he is your 
 surest and most invariable supporter, and should he sink,. 
 your fall would inevitably follow. Therefore, not only 
 rely on him, but also protect him, and look upon him as 
 your brother; for what you do for him, you do for your- 
 self." 
 
 " Yes, you are right/' said Catharine, thoughtfully. 
 "Cranmer is a noble and staunch friend; and often 
 enough already he has protected me, in the king's pres- 
 ence, against those little pin-prickings of my enemies, 
 which do not indeed kill, but which make the whole body 
 sore and faint." 
 
 " Protect him, and thus protect yourself." 
 
 " Well, and the other friends? " 
 
 "I have given Cranmer the precedence; but now, 
 queen, I name myself as the second of your friends. If 
 Cranmer is your staff, I will be your dog; and, believe me, 
 so long as you have such a staff and so faithful a dog, you 
 are safe. Cranmer will warn you of every stone that lies 
 in your way, and I will bite and drive off the enemies, who, 
 hidden behind the thicket, lurk in the way to fall upon 
 you from behind." 
 
 " I thank you! Eeally, I thank you! " said Catharine, 
 heartily. " Well, and what more ? " 
 
 "More?" inquired Hey wood with a sad smile. 
 
 " Mention a few more of my friends." 
 
 " Queen, it is a great deal, if one in a lifetime has 
 found two friends upon whom he can rely, and whose fidel- 
 ity is not guided by selfishness. You are perhaps the only 
 crowned head that can boast of such friends." 
 
 " I am a woman," said Catharine, thoughtfully, " and 
 many women surround me and daily swear to me unchang- 
 ing faithfulness and attachment. How! are all these un- 
 worthy the title of friends? Is even Lady Jane Douglas 
 unworthy; she, whom I have called my friend these many 
 long years, and whom I trust as a sister? Tell me, John 
 
98 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Heywood, you who, as it is said, know everything, and 
 search out everything that takes place at court, tell me, is 
 not Lady Jane Douglas my friend? " 
 
 John Heywood suddenly became serious and gloomy, 
 and looked on the ground, absorbed in reflection. Then 
 he swept his large, bright eyes all around the room, in a 
 scrutinizing manner, as if he wished to convince himself 
 that no listener was really concealed there, and stepping 
 close up to the queen, he whispered: " Trust her not; she 
 is a papist, and Gardiner is her friend." 
 
 " Ah, I suspected it," whispered Catharine, sadly. 
 
 "But listen, queen; give no expression to this sus- 
 picion by look, or words, or by the slightest indication. 
 Lull this viper into the belief that you are harmless; lull 
 her to sleep, queen. She is a venomous and dangerous 
 serpent, which must not be roused, lest, before you suspect 
 it, it bite you on the heel. Be always gracious, always con- 
 fidential, always friendly toward her. Only, queen, do not 
 tell her what you would not confide to Gardiner and Earl 
 Douglas likewise. Oh, believe me, she is like the lion 
 in the doge's palace at Venice. The secrets that you con- 
 fide to her will become accusations against you before the 
 tribunal of blood." 
 
 Catharine shook her head with a smile. " You are too 
 severe, John Heywood. It is possible that the religion 
 which she secretly professes has estranged her heart from 
 me, but she would never be capable of betraying me, or of 
 leaguing herself with my foes. No, John, you are mis- 
 taken. It would be a crime to believe thus. My God, 
 what a wicked and wretched world it must be in which we 
 could not trust even our most faithful and dearest 
 friends! " 
 
 " The world is indeed wicked and wretched, and one 
 must despair of it, or consider it a merry jest, with which 
 the devil tickles our noses. For me, it is such a jest, and 
 therefore, queen, I have become the king's fool, which at 
 least gives me the right of spurting out upon the crawling 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 99 
 
 orood all the venom of the contempt I feel for mankind, 
 and of speaking the truth to those who have only lies, by- 
 dripping honey, ever on their lips. The sages and poets 
 are the real fools of our day, and since I did not feel a voca- 
 tion to be a king, or a priest, a hangman, or a lamb for 
 sacrifice, I became a fool." 
 
 " Yes, a fool, that is to say, an epigrammatist, whose 
 biting tongue makes the whole court tremble." 
 
 " Since I cannot, like my royal master, have these 
 criminals executed, I give them a few sword-cuts with my 
 tongue. Ah, I tell you, you will much need this ally. Be 
 on your guard, queen: I heard this morning the first growl 
 of the thunder, and in Lady Jane's eyes I observed the 
 stealthy lightning. Trust her not. Trust no one here 
 but your friends Cranmer and John Heywood." 
 
 " And you say, that in all this court, among all these 
 brilliant women, these brave cavaliers, the poor queen has 
 not a single friend, not a soul, whom she may trust, on 
 whom she may lean? Oh, John Heywood, think again, 
 have pity on the poverty of a queen. Think again. Say, 
 only you two? No friend but you? " 
 
 And the queen's eyes filled with tears, which she tried 
 in vain to repress. 
 
 John Heywood saw it and sighed deeply. Better than 
 the queen herself perhaps, he had read the depths of her 
 heart, and knew its deep wound. But he also had sym- 
 pathy with her pain, and wished to mitigate it a little. 
 
 " I recollect," said he, gently and mournfully — " yes, I 
 recollect, you have yet a third friend at this court." 
 
 " Ah, a third friend! " exclaimed Catharine, and again 
 her voice sounded cheery and joyous. a Name him to me, 
 name him! For you see clearly I am burning with impa- 
 tience to hear his name." 
 
 John Heywood looked into Catharine's glowing counte- 
 nance with a strange expression, at once searching and 
 mournful, and for a moment dropped his head upon his 
 breast and sighed. 
 
100 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 " Now, John, give me the name of this third f riend." 
 
 "Do you not know him, queen?" asked Hey wood, as 
 he again stared steadily in her face. Do you not know 
 him? It is Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sudley." 
 
 There passed as it were a sunbeam over Catharine's 
 face, and she uttered a low cry. 
 
 John Hey wood said, sadly: " Queen, the sun strikes 
 directly in your face. Take care that it does not blind 
 your bright eyes. Stand in the shade, your majesty, for,, 
 hark! there comes one who might report the sunshine in 
 your face for a conflagration." 
 
 Just then the door opened, and Lady Jane appeared 
 on the threshold*. She threw a quick, searching glance 
 around the room, and an imperceptible smile passed over 
 her beautiful pale face. 
 
 " Your majesty," said she solemnly, " everything is 
 ready. You can begin your ride when it pleases you. 
 The Princess Elizabeth awaits you in the anteroom, and 
 your master of horse already holds the stirrup of your 
 steed." 
 
 "And the lord chamberlain?" asked Catharine,, 
 blushing, "has he no message from the king to bring 
 me?" 
 
 " Ay! " said the Earl of Surrey as he entered. " His 
 majesty bids me tell the queen that she may extend her 
 ride as far as she wishes. The glorious weather is well 
 worth that the Queen of England should enjoy it, and 
 enter into a contest with the sun." 
 
 " Oh, the king is the most gallant of cavaliers," said 
 Catharine, with a happy smile. " Now come, Jane, let us; 
 ride." 
 
 " Pardon me, your majesty," said Lady Jane, stepping- 
 back. " I cannot to-day enjoy the privilege of accompany- 
 ing your majesty. Lady Anne Ettersville is to-day in at- 
 tendance." 
 
 "Another time, then, Jane! And you, Earl Douglas, 
 you ride with us? " 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 101 
 
 " The king, your majesty, has ordered me to his cabi- 
 net." 
 
 "Behold now a queen abandoned by all her friends*" 
 said Catharine cheerily, as with light, elastic 'step she 
 passed through the hall to the courtyard. ' < v • 
 
 "Here is something going on which I must fathom! T 
 muttered John Heywood, who had left the hall with the 
 rest. " A mousetrap is set, for the cats remain at home, 
 and are hungry for their prey." 
 
 Lady Jane had remained behind in the hall with her 
 father. Both had stepped to the window, and were silent- 
 ly looking down into the yard, where the brilliant caval- 
 cade of the queen and her suite was moving about in mot- 
 ley confusion. 
 
 Catharine had just mounted her palfrey; the noble 
 animal, recognizing his mistress, neighed loudly, and, giv- 
 ing a snort, reared up with his noble burden. 
 
 Princess Elizabeth, who was close to the queen, uttered 
 a cry of alarm. "You will fall, queen," said she, "you 
 ride such a wild animal." 
 
 " "Oh, no, indeed," said Catharine, smiling; " Hector is 
 not wild. It is with him as with me. This charming 
 May air has made us both mettlesome and happy. Away,, 
 then, my ladies and lords! our horses must be to-day swift 
 as birds. We ride to Epping Forest." 
 
 And through the open gateway dashed the cavalcade. 
 The queen in front; at her right, the Princess Elizabeth; 
 at her left, the master of horse, Thomas Seymour, Earl of 
 Sudley. 
 
 When the train had disappeared, father and daughter 
 stepped back from the window, and looked at each other 
 with strange, dark, and disdainful looks. 
 
 "Well, Jane?" said Earl Douglas, at length. "She 
 is still queen, and the king becomes daily more unwieldy 
 and ailing. It is time to give him a seventh queen." 
 
 " Soon, my father, soon." 
 
 " Loves the queen Henry Howard at last? " 
 
102 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " Yes, he loves her! " said Jane, and her pale face was 
 now colorless as a winding-sheet. 
 
 ; "\ ask, whether she loves him? " 
 - ' "• She will love him! " murmured Jane, and then sud- 
 denly nia&Jermg herself, she continued: "hut it is not 
 enough to make the queen in love; doubtless it would be 
 still more efficient if some one could instill a new love 
 into the king. Did you see, father, with what ardent 
 looks his majesty yesterday watched me and the Duchess 
 of Richmond?" 
 
 " Did I see it? The whole court talked about it." 
 
 " Well, now, my father, manage it so that the king may 
 be heartily bored to-day, and then bring him to me. He 
 will find the Duchess of Richmond with me." 
 
 " Ah, a glorious thought! You will surely be Henry's 
 seventh queen." 
 
 " I will ruin Catharine Parr, for she is my rival, and I 
 hate her! " said Jane, with glowing cheeks and flashing 
 eyes. " She has been queen long enough, and I have 
 bowed myself before her. Now she shall fall in the dust 
 before me, and I will set my foot upon her head." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE EIDE. 
 
 It was a wondrous morning. The dew still lay on the 
 grass of the meadows, over which they had just ridden to 
 reach the thicket of the forest, in whose trees resounded 
 the melodious voices of blithe birds. Then they rode 
 along the banks of a babbling forest stream, and spied the 
 deer that came forth into the glade on the other side, as 
 if they wanted, like the queen and her train, to listen to 
 the song of the birds and the murmuring of the fountains. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 103 
 
 Catharine felt a nameless, blissful pleasure swell her 
 l^osom. She was to-day no more the queen, surrounded by 
 perils and foes; no more the wife of an unloved, tyrannical 
 husband; not the queen trammelled with the shackles 
 of etiquette. She was a free, happy woman, who, in 
 presageful, blissful trepidation, smiled at the future, 
 and said to each minute, " Stay, stay, for thou art so 
 beautiful! " 
 
 It was a sweet, dreamy happiness, the happiness of that 
 hour. With glad heart, Catharine would have given her 
 crown for it, could she have prolonged this hour to an 
 eternity. 
 
 He was at her side — he of whom John Heywood had 
 said, that he was among her most trustful and trusty 
 friends. He was there; and even if she did not dare to 
 look at him often, often to speak to him, yet she felt his 
 presence, she perceived the glowing beams of his eyes, 
 which rested on her with consuming fire. Nobody could 
 observe them. For the court rode behind them, and be- 
 fore them and around them was naught but Nature 
 breathing and smiling with joy, naught but heaven and 
 God. 
 
 She had forgotten however that she was not quite 
 alone, and that while Thomas Seymour rode on her left, 
 on her right was Princess Elizabeth — that young girl of 
 fourteen years — that child, who, however, under the fire 
 of suffering and the storms of adversity, was early forced 
 to precocious bloom, and whose heart, by the tears and ex- 
 perience of her unhappy childhood, had acquired an early 
 ripeness. Elizabeth, a child in years, had already all the 
 strength and warmth of a woman's feelings. Elizabeth, 
 the disowned and disinherited princess, had inherited her 
 father's pride and ambition; and when she looked on the 
 queen, and perceived that little crown wrought on her 
 velvet cap in diamond embroidery, she felt in her bosom a 
 sharp pang, and remembered, with feelings of bitter grief, 
 that this crown was destined never to adorn her head, 
 
104: HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 since the king, by solemn act of Parliament, had excluded 
 her from the succession to the throne.* 
 
 But for a few weeks this pain had been more gentle, 
 and less burning. Another feeling had silenced it. 
 Elizabeth who was never to be queen or sovereign — Eliza- 
 beth might be a wife at least. Since she was denied a 
 crown, they should at least allow her instead a wife's hap- 
 piness; they should not grudge her the privilege of twin- 
 ing in her hair a crown of myrtle. 
 
 She had been early taught to ever have a clear con- 
 sciousness of all her feelings; nor had she now shrunk from 
 reading the depths of her heart with steady and sure eye. 
 
 She knew that she loved, and that Thomas Seymour 
 was the man whom she loved. 
 
 But the earl? Did he love her in return? Did he 
 understand the child's heart? Had he, beneath the child- 
 ish face, already recognized the passionate, proud woman? 
 Had he guessed the secrets of this soul, at once so maidenly 
 and chaste, and yet so passionate and energetic? 
 
 Thomas Seymour never betrayed a secret, and what he 
 had, it may be, read in the eyes of the princess, and what 
 he had, perhaps, spoken to her in the quiet shady walks 
 of Hampton Court, or in the long, dark corridors of White- 
 hall, was known to no one save those two. For Elizabeth 
 had a strong, masculine soul; she needed no confidant to 
 share her secrets; and Thomas Seymour had feared even, 
 like the immortal hair-dresser of King Midas, to dig a hole 
 and utter his secret therein; for he knew very well that, if 
 the reed grew up and repeated his words, he might, for 
 these words, lay his head on the block. 
 
 Poor Elizabeth! She did not even suspect the earl's 
 secret and her own were not, however, the same; she did 
 not suspect that Thomas Seymour, if he guessed her secret, 
 might, perhaps, avail himself of it to make thereof a bril- 
 liant foil for his own secret. 
 
 He had, like her, ever before his eyes the diamond 
 
 * Tytler, p. 340. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 105 
 
 crown on the head of the young queen, and he had noticed 
 well how old and feeble the king had become of late. 
 
 As he now rode by the side of the two princesses, he 
 felt his heart swell with a proud joy, and bold and ambi- 
 tious schemes alone occupied his soul. 
 
 The two women understood nothing of this. They 
 were both too much occupied with their own thoughts; 
 and while Catharine's eyes swept with beaming look the 
 landscape far and wide, the brow of the princess was slight- 
 ly clouded, and her sharp eye rested with a fixed and 
 watchful gaze on Thomas Seymour. 
 
 She had noticed the impassioned look which he had 
 now and then fastened on the queen. The slight, scarcely 
 perceptible tremor of his voice, when he spoke, had not 
 escaped her. 
 
 Princess Elizabeth was jealous; she felt the first tortur- 
 ing motions of that horrible disease which she had in- 
 herited from her father, and in the feverish paroxysms of 
 which the king had sent two of his wives to the scaffold. 
 
 She was jealous, but not of the queen; much more, she 
 dreamed not that the queen might share and return Sey- 
 mour's love. It never came into her mind to accuse the 
 queen of an understanding with the earl. She was jeal- 
 ous only of the looks which he directed toward the queen; 
 and because she was watching those looks, she could not at 
 the same time read the eyes of her young stepmother also; 
 she could not see the gentle flames which, kindled by the 
 fire of his looks, glowed in hers. 
 
 Thomas Seymour had seen them, and had he now been 
 alone with Catharine, he would have thrown himself at 
 her feet and confided to her all the deep and dangerous 
 secrets that he had so long harbored in his breast; he 
 would have left to her the choice of bringing him to the 
 block, or of accepting the love which he consecrated to her. 
 
 But there, behind them, were the spying, all-observing, 
 all-surmising courtiers; there was the Princess Elizabeth, 
 who, had he ventured to speak to the queen, would have 
 8 
 
106 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 conjectured from his manner the words which she could 
 not understand; for love sees so clearly, and jealousy has 
 such keen ears! 
 
 Catharine suspected nothing of the thoughts of her 
 companions. She alone was happy; she alone gave herself 
 up with full soul to the enjoyment of the moment. She- 
 drew in with intense delight the pure air; she drank in 
 the odor of the meadow blossoms; she listened with thirsty 
 ear to the murmuring song which the wind wafted to her 
 from the boughs of the trees. Her wishes extended not 
 beyond the hour; she rested in the full enjoyment of the 
 presence of her beloved. He was there — what needed she 
 more to make her happy? 
 
 Her wishes extended not beyond this hour. She was 
 only conscious how delightful it was thus to be at her be- 
 loved's side, to breathe the same air, to see the same sun,, 
 the same flowers on which his eyes rested, and on which 
 their glances at least might meet in hisses which were de- 
 nied to their lips. 
 
 But as they thus rode along, silent and meditative, 
 each occupied with his own thoughts, there came the as- 
 sistance for which Thomas Seymour had prayed, fluttering 
 along in the shape of a fly. 
 
 At first this fly sported and buzzed about the nose of 
 the fiery, proud beast which the queen rode; and as no 
 one noticed it, it was not disturbed by Hector's tossing of 
 his mane, but crept securely and quietly to the top of the 
 noble courser's head, pausing a little here and there, and 
 sinking his sting into the horse's flesh, so that he reared 
 and began loudly to neigh. 
 
 But Catharine was a bold and dexterous rider, and the 
 proud spirit of her horse only afforded her delight, and 
 gave the master of horse an opportunity to praise her skill 
 and coolness. 
 
 Catharine received with a sweet smile the encomiums 
 of her beloved. But the fly kept creeping on, and, im- 
 pelled by a diabolic delight, now penetrated the horse's ear.. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 107 
 
 The poor, tormented animal made a spring forward. 
 This spring, instead of freeing him from his enemy, made 
 him penetrate the ear still farther, and sink his sting still 
 deeper into the soft fleshy part of the same. 
 
 Stung by the maddening pain, the horse cast off all 
 control, and, heedless of bridle and scorning the bit, 
 dashed forward in a furious run — forward over the meadow 
 swift as an arrow, resistless as the lightning. 
 
 " On, on, to the queen's rescue ! " thundered the mas- 
 ter of horse, and with mad haste, away flew he also over 
 the meadow. 
 
 " To the help of the queen! " repeated Princess Eliza- 
 beth, and she likewise spurred her horse and hurried for- 
 ward, accompanied by the whole suite. 
 
 But what is the speed of a horse ever so swift, but yet 
 in his senses, compared with the raving madness of a crazy 
 courser, that, despising all subjection, and mocking at the 
 bridle, dashes ahead, foaming with the sense of freedom 
 and unrestraint, uncontrollable as the surge lashed by the 
 storm! 
 
 Already far behind them lay the meadows, far behind 
 them the avenues leading through the woods, and over 
 brooks and ditches, over meadows and wastes, Hector was 
 dashing on. . * 
 
 The queen still sat firmly in the saddle; her cheeks were 
 colorless; her lips trembled; but her eye was still bright 
 and clear. She had not yet lost her presence of mind; she 
 was perfectly conscious of her danger. The din of scream- 
 ing, screeching voices, which she heard at first, had long 
 since died away, in silence behind her. An immense soli- 
 tude, the deep silence of the grave, was around her. 
 Naught was heard save the panting and snorting of the 
 horse; naught but the crash and clatter of his hoofs. 
 
 Suddenly, however, this sound seemed to find an echo. 
 It was repeated over yonder. There was the same snort- 
 ing and panting; there was the same resounding tramp- 
 ling of hoofs. 
 
108 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 And now, oh, now, struck on Catharine's ear the sound 
 of a voice only too well loved, and made her scream aloud 
 with delight and desire. 
 
 But this cry frightened anew the enraged animal. 
 For a moment, exhausted and panting, he had slackened in 
 his mad race; now he sprang forward with renewed energy; 
 now he flew on as if impelled hy the wings of the wind. 
 
 But ever nearer and nearer sounded the loved voice, 
 ever nearer the tramp of his horse. 
 
 They were now upon a large plain, shut in on all sides 
 by woods. While the queen's horse circled the plain in a 
 wide circuit, Seymour's, obedient to the rein, sped directly 
 across it, and was close behind the queen. 
 
 c ' Only a moment more ! Only hold your arms firmly 
 around the animal's neck, that the shock may not hurl you 
 off, when I lay hold of the rein!" shouted Seymour, and 
 he set his spurs into his horse's flanks, so that he sprang 
 forward with a wild cry. 
 
 This cry roused Hector to new fury. Panting for 
 breath, he shot forward with fearful leaps, now straight 
 into the thicket of the woods. 
 
 " I hear his voice no more," murmured Catharine. 
 And at length overcome with anxiety and the dizzy race, 
 and worn out with her exertions, she closed her eyes; her 
 senses appeared to be about leaving her. 
 
 But at this moment, a firm hand seized with iron grasp 
 the rein of her horse, so that he bowed his head, shaking, 
 trembling, and almost ashamed, as though he felt he had 
 found his lord and master. 
 
 "Saved! I am saved!" faltered Catharine, and 
 breathless, scarcely in her senses, she leaned her head on 
 Seymour's shoulder. 
 
 He lifted her gently from the saddle, and placed her 
 on the soft moss beneath an ancient oak. Then he tied 
 the horses to a bough, and Catharine, trembling and faint, 
 sank on her knees to rest after such violent exertion. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 109 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE DECLAKATION". 
 
 Thomas Seymouk returned to Catharine. She still 
 lay there with closed eyes, pale and motionless. 
 
 He gazed on her long and steadily; his eyes drank in, 
 in long draughts, the sight of this beautiful and noble 
 woman, and he forgot at that moment that she was a 
 queen. 
 
 He was at length alone with her. At last, after two 
 years of torture, of resignation, of dissimulation, God had 
 granted him this hour, for which he had so long yearned, 
 which he had so long considered unattainable. Now it 
 was there, now it was his. 
 
 And had the whole court, had King Henry himself, 
 come right then, Thomas Seymour would not have heeded 
 it; it would not have affrighted him. The blood had 
 mounted to his head and overcome his reason. His heart, 
 still agitated and beating violently from his furious ride 
 and his anxiety for Catharine, allowed him to hear no 
 other voice than that of passion. 
 
 He knelt by the queen and seized her hand. 
 
 Perhaps it was this touch which roused her from her 
 unconsciousness. She raised her eyes and gazed around 
 with a perplexed look. 
 
 " Where am I? " breathed she in a low tone. 
 
 Thomas Seymour pressed her hand to his lips. " You 
 are with the most faithful and devoted of your servants, 
 queen! " 
 
 . " Queen! " This word roused her from her stupor, 
 and caused her to raise herself half up. 
 
 " But where is my court? Where is the Princess Eliza- 
 beth? Where are all the eyes that heretofore watched me? 
 Where are all the listeners and spies who accompany the 
 queen?" 
 
 " They are far away from here," said Seymour in a tone 
 
HO HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 which betrayed his secret delight. " They are far away 
 from here, and need at least an hour's time to come up 
 with us. An hour, queen! are you aware what that is to 
 me? An hour of freedom, after two years of imprison- 
 ment! An hour of happiness, after two years of daily tor- 
 ture, daily endurance of the torments of hell! " 
 
 Catharine, who had at first smiled, had now become 
 grave and sad. 
 
 Her eye rested on the cap which had fallen from her 
 head and lay near her on the grass. 
 
 She pointed with trembling finger to the crown, and 
 said softly, " Eecognize you that sign, my lord? " 
 
 " I recognize it, my lady; but in this hour, I no longer 
 shrink back at it. There are moments in which life is at 
 its crowning point, and when one heeds not the abyss that 
 threatens close beneath. Such an hour is the present. I 
 am aware that this hour makes me guilty of high treason 
 and may send me to the block; but nevertheless I will 
 not be silent. The fire which burns in my breast con- 
 sumes me. I must at length give it vent. My heart, that 
 for years has burned upon a funeral pyre, and which is so 
 strong that in the midst of its agonies it has still ever felt 
 a sensation of its blessedness — my heart must at length 
 find death or favor. You shall hear me, queen! " 
 
 " No, no," said she, almost in anguish, " I will not, I 
 cannot hear you! Eemember that I am Henry the 
 Eighth's wife, and that it is dangerous to speak to her. 
 Silence, then, earl, silence, and let us ride on." 
 
 She would have arisen, but her own exhaustion and 
 Lord Seymour's hand caused her to sink back again. 
 
 "No, I will not be silent," said he. "I will not be 
 silent until I have told you all that rages and glows within 
 me. The Queen of England may either condemn me or 
 pardon me, but she shall know that to me she is not Henry 
 the Eighth's wife, but only the most charming and grace- 
 ful, the noblest and loveliest woman in England. I will 
 tell her that I never recollect she is my queen, or, if I do 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. m 
 
 so, it is only to curse the king, who was presumptuous 
 enough to set this brightly sparkling jewel in his bloody 
 crown." 
 
 Catharine, almost horrified, laid her hand on Seymour's 
 lips. " Silence, unhappy man, silence ! Know you that 
 it is your sentence of death which you are now uttering? 
 Your sentence of death, if any soul hears you? " 
 
 " But no one hears me. No one save the queen, and 
 God, who, however, is perhaps more compassionate and 
 merciful than the queen. Accuse me then, queen; go 
 and tell your king that Thomas Seymour is a traitor; that 
 he dares love the queen. The king will send me to the 
 scaffold, but I shall nevertheless deem myself happy, for I 
 shall at least die by your instrumentality. Queen, if I 
 cannot live for you, then beautiful it is to die for you! " 
 
 Catharine listened to him wholly stupefied, wholly in- 
 toxicated. This was, for her, language wholly new and 
 never heard before, at which her heart trembled in bliss- 
 ful awe, which rushed around her in enchanting melodies 
 and lulled her into a sweet stupefaction. Now she her- 
 self even forgot that she was queen, that she was the 
 wife of Henry, the bloodthirsty and the jealous. She was 
 conscious only of this, that the man whom she had so long 
 loved, was now kneeling at her side. With rapture she 
 drank in his words, which struck upon her ear like ex- 
 quisite music. 
 
 Thomas Seymour continued. He told her all he had 
 suffered. He told her he had often resolved to die, in or- 
 der to put an end to these tortures, but that then a glance 
 of her eye, a word from her lips, had given him strength 
 to live, and still longer endure these tortures, which were 
 at the same time so full of rapture. 
 
 " But now, queen, now my strength is exhausted, and 
 it is for you to give me life or death. To-morrow I will 
 ascend the scaffold, or you shall permit me to live, to live 
 for you." 
 
 Catharine trembled and looked at him wellnigh as- 
 
112 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 tounded. He seemed so proud and imperative, she almost 
 felt a fear for him, but it was the happy fear of a loving, 
 meek woman before a strong, commanding man. 
 
 " Know you," said she, with a charming smile, " that 
 you almost have the appearance of wishing to command me 
 to love you? " 
 
 " No, queen," said he, proudly, " I cannot command 
 you to love me, but I bid you tell me the truth. I bid you 
 do this, for I am a man who has the right to demand the 
 truth of a woman face to face. And I have told you, you 
 are not the queen to me. You are but a beloved, an 
 adored woman. This love has nothing to do with your 
 royalty, and while I confess it to you, I do not think that 
 you abase yourself when you receive it. For the true 
 love of a man is ever the holiest gift that he can present 
 to a woman, and if a beggar dedicates it to a queen, she 
 must feel herself honored by it. Oh, queen, I am a beg- 
 gar. I lie at your feet and raise my hands beseechingly to 
 you; but I want not charity, I want not your compassion 
 and pity, which may, perhaps, grant me an alms to lessen 
 my misery. No, I want you yourself. I require all or 
 nothing. It will not satisfy me that you forgive my bold- 
 ness, and draw the veil of silence over my mad attempt. 
 No, I wish you to speak, to pronounce my condemnation or 
 a benediction on me. Oh, I know you are generous and 
 compassionate, and even if you despise my love and will 
 not return it, yet, it may be, you will not betray me. You 
 will spare me, and be silent. But I repeat it, queen, I do 
 not accept this offer of your magnanimity. You are to 
 make me either a criminal or a god; for I am a criminal 
 if you condemn my love, a god if you return it." 
 
 " And do you know, earl," whispered Catharine, " that 
 you are very cruel? You want me to be either an accuser 
 or an accomplice. You leave me no choice but that of 
 being either your murderess or a perjured and adulterous 
 woman — a wife who forgets her plighted faith and her 
 sacred duty, and defiles the crown which my husband has 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 113 
 
 placed upon my head with stains, which Henry will wash 
 out with my own blood and with yours also." 
 
 "Let it be so, then/' cried the earl, almost joyfully. 
 "Let my head fall, no matter how or when, if you but 
 love me; for then I shall still be immortal; for a moment 
 in your arms is an eternity of bliss." 
 
 " But I have already told you that not only your head, 
 but mine also, is concerned in this matter. You know the 
 king's harsh and cruel disposition. The mere suspicion is 
 enough to condemn me. Ah, if he knew what we have 
 just now spoken here, he would condemn me, as he con- 
 demned Catharine Howard, though I am not guilty as she 
 was. Ah, I shudder at the thought of the block; and you, 
 Earl Seymour, you would bring me to the scaffold, and yet 
 you say you love me!" 
 
 Seymour sunk his head mournfully upon his breast and 
 sighed deeply. "You have pronounced my sentence, 
 queen, and though you are too noble to tell me the truth, 
 yet I have guessed it. No, you do not love me, for you 
 see with keen eyes the danger that threatens you, and you 
 fear for yourself. No, you love me not, else you would 
 think of nothing save love alone. The dangers would ani- 
 mate you, and the sword which hangs over your head you 
 would not see, or you would with rapture grasp its edge 
 and say, ' What is death to me, since I am happy! What 
 care I for dying, since I have felt immortal happiness! ' 
 Ah, Catharine, you have a cold heart and a cool head. 
 May God preserve them both to you; then will you pass 
 through life quietly and safely; but you will yet be a 
 poor, wretched woman, and when you come to die, they 
 will place a royal crown upon your coffin, but love will not 
 weep for you. Farewell, Catharine, Queen of England, 
 and since you cannot love him, give Thomas Seymour, the 
 traitor, your sympathy at least." 
 
 He bowed low and kissed her feet, then he arose and 
 walked with firm step to the tree where he had tied the 
 horses. But now Catharine arose, now she flew to him, 
 
114 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 and grasping his hand, asked, trembling and breathless, 
 u What are you about to do? whither are you going? " 
 
 " To the king, my lady." 
 
 " And what will you do there ? " 
 
 "I will show him a traitor who has dared love the 
 queen. You have just killed my heart; he will kill only 
 my body. That is less painful, and I will thank him 
 for it." 
 
 Catharine uttered a cry, and with passionate vehe- 
 mence drew him back to the place where she had been 
 resting. 
 
 " If you do what you say, you will kill me," said she, 
 with trembling lips. " Hear me, hear! The moment you 
 mount your horse to go to the king, I mount mine too; 
 but not to follow you, not to return to London, but to 
 plunge with my horse down yonder precipice. Oh, fear 
 nothing; they will not accuse you of my murder. They 
 will say that I plunged down there with my horse, and 
 that the raging animal caused my death." 
 
 " Queen, take good heed, consider well what you say! " 
 exclaimed Thomas Seymour, his countenance clearing up 
 and his face naming with delight. " Bear in mind that 
 your words must be either a condemnation or an avowal. 
 I wish death, or your love! Not the love of a queen, who 
 thinks to be gracious to her subject, when for the moment 
 she elevates him to herself; but the love of a woman who 
 bows her head in meekness and receives her lover as at the 
 same time her lord. Oh, Catharine, be well on your 
 guard! If you come to me with the pride of a queen, if 
 there be even one thought in you which tells you that you 
 are bestowing a favor on a subject as you take him to your 
 heart, then be silent and let me go hence. I am proud, 
 and as nobly born as yourself, and however love throws me 
 conquered at your feet, yet it shall not bow my head in 
 the dust! But if you say that you love me, Catharine, for 
 that I will consecrate my whole life to you. I will be your 
 lord, but your slave also. There shall be in me no thought, 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 115 
 
 no feeling, no wish that is not devoted and subservient to 
 you. And when I say that I will be your lord, I mean 
 not thereby that I will not lie forever at your feet and 
 bow my head in the dust, and say to you: Tread on it, if 
 it seem good to you, for I am your slave ! " 
 
 And speaking thus, he dropped on his knees and 
 pressed to her feet his face, whose glowing and noble ex- 
 pression ravished Catharine's heart. 
 
 She bent down to him, and gently lifting his head, 
 looked with an indescribable expression of happiness and 
 love deep into his beaming eyes. 
 
 " Do you love me? " asked Seymour, as he put his arm 
 softly around her slender waist, and arose from his kneel- 
 ing attitude. 
 
 " I love you! " said she, with a firm voice and a happy 
 smile. " I love you, not as a queen, but as a woman; and 
 if perchance this love bring us both to the scaffold, well 
 then we shall at least die together, to meet again there 
 above ! " 
 
 " No, think not now of dying, Catharine, think of liv- 
 ing — of the beautiful, enchanting future which is beckon- 
 ing to us. Think of the days which will soon come, and 
 in which our love will no longer require secresy or a veil, 
 but when we will manifest it to the whole world, and can 
 proclaim our happiness from a full glad breast! Oh, 
 Catharine, let us hope that compassionate and merciful 
 death will loose at last the unnatural bonds that bind you 
 to that old man Then, when Henry is no more, then will 
 you be mine, mine with your entire being, with your whole 
 life; and instead of a proud regal crown, a crown of myrtle 
 shall adorn your head! Swear that to me, Catharine; 
 swear that you will become my wife, as soon as death has 
 set you free." 
 
 The queen shuddered and her cheeks grew pale. 
 * Oh," said she with a sigh, " death then is our hope and 
 perhaps the scaffold our end! " 
 
 *' No, Catharine, love is our hope, and happiness our 
 
116 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 end. Think of life, of our future! God grant my re- 
 quest. Swear to me here in the face of God, and of sacred 
 and calm nature around us, swear to me, that from the day 
 when death frees you from your husband you will be mine, 
 my wife, my consort! Swear to me, that you, regardless 
 of etiquette and unmindful of tyrannical custom, will be 
 Lord Seymour's wife, before the knell for Henry's death 
 has died away. We will find a priest, who may bless our 
 love and sanctify the covenant that we have this day con- 
 cluded for eternity! Swear to me, that, till that wished- 
 for day, you will keep for me your truth and love, and 
 never forget that my honor is yours also, that your happi- 
 ness is also mine!" 
 
 " I swear it! " said Catharine, solemnly. " You may 
 depend upon me at all times and at all hours. Never will 
 I be untrue to you; never will I have a thought that is 
 not yours. I will love you as Thomas Seymour deserves 
 to be loved, that is with a devoted and faithful heart. It 
 will be my pride to subject myself to you, and with glad 
 soul will I serve and follow you, as your true and obedient 
 wife." 
 
 " I accept your oath! " said Seymour, solemnly. " But 
 in return I swear that I will honor and esteem you as my 
 queen and mistress. I swear to you that you shall never 
 find a more obedient subject, a more unselfish counsellor, a 
 more faithful husband, a braver champion, than I will be. 
 < My life for my queen, my entire heart for my beloved '; 
 this henceforth shall be my motto, and may I be disowned 
 and despised by God and by you, if ever I violate this 
 oath." 
 
 " Amen! " said Catharine, with a bewitching smile. 
 
 Then both were silent. It was that silence which only 
 love and happiness knows — that silence which is so 
 rich in thoughts and feelings, and therefore so poor in 
 words! 
 
 The wind rustled whisperingly in the trees, among 
 whose dark branches here and there a bird's warbling or 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. H7 
 
 flute-like notes resounded. The sun' threw his emerald 
 light over the soft velvety carpet of the ground, which, 
 rising and falling in gentle, undulating lines, formed love- 
 ly little hollows and hillocks, on which now and then was 
 seen here and there the slender and stately figure of a 
 hart, or a roe, that, looking around searchingly with his 
 bright eyes, started back frightened into the thicket on 
 observing these two human figures and the group of horses 
 encamped there. 
 
 Suddenly this quiet was interrupted by the loud sound 
 of the hunter's horn, and in the distance were heard con- 
 fused cries and shouts, which were echoed by the dense 
 forest and repeated in a thousand tones. 
 
 With a sigh the queen raised her head from the earl's 
 shoulder. 
 
 The dream was at an end; the angel came with flaming 
 sword to drive her from paradise. 
 
 For she was no longer worthy of paradise. The fatal 
 word had been spoken, and while it brought her love, it 
 had perjured her. 
 
 Henry's wife, his by her vow taken before the altar, 
 had betrothed herself to another, and given him the love 
 that she owed her husband. 
 
 " It is passed," said he, mournfully. " These sounds 
 call me back to my slavery. We must both resume our 
 roles. I must become queen again." 
 
 " But first swear to me that you will never forget this 
 hour; that you will ever think upon the oaths which we 
 have mutually sworn." 
 
 She looked at him almost astounded. "My God! can 
 truth and love be forgotten? " 
 
 " You will remain ever true, Catharine? " 
 
 She smiled. " See, now, my jealous lord, do I address 
 such questions to you? " 
 
 * Oh, queen, you well know that you possess the charm' 
 that binds forever." 
 
 " Who knows? " said she dreamily, as she raised her 
 
118 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 enthusiastic look to heaven, and seemed to follow the 
 bright silvery clouds which were sailing slowly across the 
 blue ether. 
 
 Then her eyes fell on her beloved, and laying her hand 
 softly upon his shoulder, she said: "Love is like God — 
 eternal, primeval, and ever present! But you must be- 
 lieve in it to feel its presence; you must trust it to be 
 worthy of its blessing! n 
 
 But the hallooing and the clangor of the horns came 
 nearer and nearer. Even now was heard the barking of 
 the dogs and the tramp of horses. 
 
 The earl had untied the horses, and led Hector, who 
 was now quiet and gentle as a lamb, to his mistress. 
 
 " Queen," said Thomas Seymour, " two delinquents 
 now approach you! Hector is my accomplice, and had 
 it not been that the fly I now see on his swollen ear 
 had made him raving, I should be the most pitiable and 
 unhappy man in your kingdom, while now I am the hap- 
 piest and most enviable." 
 
 The queen made no answer, but she put both her arms 
 around the animal's neck and kissed him. 
 
 " Henceforth," said she, " then I will ride only Hector, 
 and when he is old and unfit for service " 
 
 "He shall be tended and cared for in the stud of 
 Countess Catharine Seymour! " interrupted Thomas Sey- 
 mour, as he held the queen's stirrup and assisted her into 
 the saddle. 
 
 The two rode in silence toward the sound of the voices 
 and horns, both too much occupied by their own thoughts 
 to interrupt them by trifling words. 
 
 * He loves me ! " thought Catharine. "lama happy, 
 enviable woman, for Thomas Seymour loves me." 
 
 u She loves me ! " thought he, with a proud, trium- 
 phant smile. " I shall, therefore, one day become Eegent 
 of England." 
 
 Just then they came out on the large level meadow, 
 through which they had previously ridden, and over 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. H9 
 
 which now oame, scattered here and there in motley con- 
 fusion, the entire royal suite, Princess Elizabeth at the 
 head. 
 
 " One thing more ! " whispered Catharine. " If you 
 ever need a messenger to me, apply to John Heywood. He 
 is a friend whom we can trust." 
 
 And she sprang forward to meet the princess, to re- 
 count to her all the particulars of her adventure, and her 
 happy rescue by the master of horse. 
 
 Elizabeth, however, listened to her with glowing looks 
 and thoughts distracted, and as the queen then turned to 
 the rest of her suite, and, surrounded by her ladies and 
 lords, received their congratulations, a slight sign from the 
 princess called Thomas Seymour to her side. 
 
 She allowed her horse to curvet some paces forward, by 
 which she and the earl found themselves separated a little 
 from the rest, and were sure of being overheard by no 
 one. 
 
 " My lord," said she, in a vehement, almost threaten- 
 ing voice, "you have often and in vain besought me to 
 grant you an interview. I have denied you. You in- 
 timated that you had many things to say to me, for which 
 we must be alone, and which must reach no listener's ear. 
 Well, now, to-day I grant you an interview, and I am at 
 last inclined to listen to you." 
 
 She paused and waited for a reply. But the earl re- 
 mained silent. He only made a deep and respectful bow, 
 bending to the very neck of his horse. " Well and good; 
 I will go to this rendezvous were it but to blind Elizabeth's 
 eyes, that she may not see what she never ought to see. 
 That was all." 
 
 The young princess cast on him an angry look, and a 
 dark scowl gathered on her brow. " You understand well 
 how to control your joy," said she; "and any one to see 
 you just now would think " 
 
 " That Thomas Seymour is discreet enough not to let 
 even his rapture be read in his countenance at this danger- 
 
120 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 ous court/' interrupted the earl in a low murmur. "When, 
 princess, may I see you and where ? " 
 
 " Wait for the message that John Heywood will bring 
 you to-day," whispered Elizabeth, as she sprang forward 
 and again drew near the queen. 
 
 "John Heywood, again!" muttered the earl. "The 
 confidant of both, and so my hangman, if he wishes to be! " 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " LE KOI s'eNNUIT." 
 
 King Henry was alone in his study. He had spent a 
 few hours in writing on a devout and edifying book, which 
 he was preparing for his subjects, and which, in virtue of 
 his dignity as supreme lord of the Church, he designed to 
 commend to their reading instead of the Bible. 
 
 He now laid down his pen, and, with infinite compla- 
 cency, looked over the written sheets, which were to be 
 to his people a new proof of his paternal love and care, and 
 so convince them that Henry the Eighth was not only the 
 noblest and most virtuous of kings, but also the wisest. 
 
 But this reflection failed to make the king more cheer- 
 ful to-day; perhaps because he had already indulged in it 
 too frequently. To be alone, annoyed and disturbed him 
 — there were in his breast so many secret and hidden 
 voices, whose whispers he dreaded, and which, therefore, 
 he sought to drown — there were so many recollections of 
 blood, which ever and again rose before him, however 
 often he tried to wash them out in fresh blood, and 
 which the king was afraid of, though he assumed the ap- 
 pearance of never repenting, never feeling disquietude. 
 
 With hasty hand he touched the gold bell standing by 
 him, and his face brightened as he saw the door open im- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 121 
 
 mediately, and Earl Douglas make his appearance on the 
 threshold. 
 
 " Oh, at length! " said the lord, who had very well 
 understood, the expression of Henry's features; "at 
 length, the king condescends to be gracious to his people." 
 
 "I gracious?" asked the king, utterly astonished. 
 "Well, how am I so?" 
 
 " By your majesty's resting at length from his exer- 
 tions, and giving a little thought to his valuable and need- 
 ful health. When you remember, sire, that England's 
 weal depends solely and alone on the weal of her king, 
 and that you must be and remain healthy, that your people 
 likewise may be healthy." 
 
 The king smiled with satisfaction. It never came into 
 his head to doubt the earl's words. It seemed to him per- 
 fectly natural that the weal of his people depended on his 
 person; but yet it was always a lofty and beautiful song, 
 and he loved to have his courtiers repeat it. 
 
 The king, as we have said, smiled, but there was some- 
 thing unusual in that smile, which did not escape the earl. 
 
 " He is in the condition of a hungry anaconda," said 
 Earl Douglas to himself. " He is on the watch for prey, 
 and he will be bright and lively again just as soon as he has 
 tasted a little human flesh and blood. Ah, luckily we are 
 well supplied in that way. Therefore, we will render unto 
 the king what is the king's. But we must be cautious and 
 : go to work warily." 
 
 He approached the king and imprinted a kiss on his 
 hand. 
 
 " I kiss this hand," said he, " which has been to-day 
 the fountain through which the wisdom of the head has 
 been poured forth on this blessed paper. I kiss this paper, 
 which will announce and explain to happy England God's 
 pure and unadulterated word; but yet I say let this suffice 
 for the present, my king; take rest; remember awhile 
 that you are not only a sage, but also a man." 
 
 " Yes and truly a weak and decrepit one! " sighed the 
 9 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 king, as with difficulty he essayed to rise, and in so doing 
 leaned so heavily and the earl's arm that he almost broke 
 down under the monstrous load. 
 
 " Decrepit! " said Earl Douglas, reproachfully. " Your 
 majesty moves to-day with as much ease and freedom as 
 a youth, and my arm was by no means needed to help you 
 up." 
 
 " Nevertheless, we are growing old! n said the king, 
 who, from his weariness, was unusually sentimental and 
 low-spirited to-day. 
 
 "Old!" repeated Earl Douglas. "Old, with those 
 eyes darting fire, and that lofty brow, and that face, in 
 every feature so noble! No, your majesty, kings have this 
 in common with the gods — they never grow old." 
 
 " And therein they resemble parrots to a hair! " said 
 John Heywood, who just then entered the room. " I own 
 a parrot which my great-grandfather inherited from his 
 great-grandfather, who was hair-dresser to Henry the 
 Fourth, and which to-day still sings with the same volubil- 
 ity as he did a hundred years ago: 'Long live the kingf 
 long live this paragon of virtue, sweetness, beauty, and 
 mercy! Long live the king! ? He has cried this for hun- 
 dreds of years, and he has repeated it for Henry the Fifth 
 and Henry the Sixth, for Henry the Seventh and Henry 
 the Eighth! And wonderful, the kings have changed, but 
 the song of praise has always been appropriate, and has 
 ever been only the simple truth! Just like yours, my 
 Lord Douglas! Your majesty may depend upon it, he 
 speaks the truth, for he is near akin to my parrot, which 
 always calls him ' My cousin/ and has taught him his im- 
 mortal song of praise to kings." 
 
 The king laughed, while Earl Douglas cast at John 
 Heywood a sharp, spiteful look. 
 
 "He is an impudent imp, is he not, Douglas?" said 
 the king. 
 
 " He is a fool! " replied he, with a shrug. 
 
 " Exactly, and therefore I just now told you the truth. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 12& 
 
 For you know children and fools speak the truth. And I 
 became a fool just on this account, that the king, whom 
 you all deceive by your lies, may have about him some 
 creature, besides his looking-glass, to tell him the truth." 
 
 "Well, and what truth will you serve up for me to- 
 day?" 
 
 " It is already served, your majesty. So lay aside for a 
 little your regal crown and your high priesthood, and con- 
 clude to be for awhile a carnivorous beast. It is very easy 
 to become a king. For that, nothing more is necessary 
 than to be born of a queen under a canopy. But it is very 
 difficult to be a man who has a good digestion. It re- 
 quires a healthy stomach and a light conscience. Come, 
 King Henry, and let us see whether you are not merely a 
 king, but also a man that has a good stomach." And with 
 a merry laugh he took the king's other arm and led him 
 with the earl into the dining-room. 
 
 The king, who was an extraordinary eater, silently 
 beckoned his suite to take their places at the table, after 
 he had seated himself in his gilded chair. With grave and 
 solemn air he then received from the hands of the master 
 of ceremonies the ivory tablet on which was the bill of 
 fare for the day. The king's dinner was a solemn and im- 
 portant affair. A multitude of post-wagons and couriers 
 were ever on the way to bring from the remotest ends of 
 the earth dainties for the royal table. The bill of fare, 
 therefore, to-day, as ever, exhibited the choicest and rarest 
 dishes; and always when the king found one of his favorite 
 ones written down he made an assenting and approving 
 motion of the head, which always lighted up the face of 
 the master of ceremonies like a sunbeam. There were 
 birds' nests brought from the East Indies by a fast-sailing 
 vessel, built specially for the purpose. There were hens 
 from Calcutta and truffles from Languedoc, which the 
 poet-king, Francis the First of France, had the day before 
 sent to his royal brother as a special token of affection. 
 There was the sparkling wine of Champagne, and the fiery 
 
124: HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 wine of the Island of Cyprus, which the Kepublic of Ven- 
 ice had sent to the king as a mark of respect. There were 
 the heavy wines of the Rhine, which looked like liquid 
 gold, and diffused the fragrance of a whole bouquet of 
 flowers, and with which the Protestant princes of North- 
 ern Germany hoped to fuddle the king, whom they would 
 have gladly placed at the head of their league. There, 
 too, were the monstrous, gigantic partridge pastries, which 
 the Duke of Burgundy had sent, and the glorious fruits of 
 the south, from the Spanish coast, with which the Em- 
 peror Charles the Fifth supplied the King of England's 
 table. For it was well known that, in order to make the 
 King of England propitious, it was necessary first to satiate 
 him; that his palate must first be tickled, in order to gain 
 his head or his heart. 
 
 But to-day all these things seemed insufficient to give 
 the king the blissful pleasure which, at other times, was 
 wont to be with him when he sat at table. He heard John 
 Hey wood's jests and biting epigrams with a melancholy 
 smile, and a cloud was on his brow. 
 
 To be in cheerful humor, the king absolutely needed 
 the presence of ladies. He needed them as the hunter 
 needs the roe to enjoy the pleasure of the chase — that 
 pleasure which consists in killing the defenceless and in 
 declaring war against the innocent and peaceful. 
 
 The crafty courtier, Earl Douglas, readily divined 
 Henry's dissatisfaction, and understood the secret mean- 
 ing of his frowns and sighs. He hoped much from them, 
 and was firmly resolved to draw some advantage therefrom, 
 to the benefit of his daughter, and the harm of the queen. 
 
 " Your majesty," said he, " I am just on the point of 
 turning traitor, and accusing my king of an injustice." 
 
 The king turned his flashing eyes upon him, and put 
 his hand, sparkling with jewelled rings, to the golden gob- 
 let filled with Rhenish wine. 
 
 " Of an injustice — me — your king? " asked he, with 
 stammering tongue. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 125 
 
 " Yes, of an injustice, inasmuch as you are for me 
 God's visible representative on earth. I would blame God 
 if He withdrew from us for a day the brightness of the sun, 
 the gorgeousness and perfume of His flowers, for since we 
 children of men are accustomed to enjoy these glories, we 
 have in a certain measure gained a right to them. So I 
 accuse you because you have withdrawn from us the em- 
 bodied flowers and the incarnate suns; because you have 
 been so cruel, sire, as to send the queen to Epping Forest/' 
 
 "" Not so; the queen wanted to ride," said Henry, peev- 
 ishly. " The spring weather attracted her, and since I, 
 alas! do not possess God's exalted attribute of ubiquity, I 
 was, no doubt, obliged to come to the resolution of being 
 deprived of her presence. There is no horse capable of 
 carrying the King of England." 
 
 " There is Pegasus, however, and in masterly manner 
 you know how to manage him. But how, your majesty! 
 the queen wanted to ride, though she was deprived of your 
 presence thereby? She wanted to ride, though this pleas- 
 ure-ride was at the same time a separation from you? Oh 
 how cold and selfish are women's hearts! Were I a wom- 
 an, I would never depart from your side, I would covert no 
 greater happiness than to be near you, and to listen to that 
 high and exalted wisdom which pours from your inspired 
 lips. Were I a woman " 
 
 "Earl, I opine that your wish is perfectly fulfilled," 
 said John Heywood seriously. " You make in all respects 
 the impression of an old woman! " 
 
 All laughed. But the king did not laugh; he re- 
 mained serious and looked gloomily before him. 
 
 " It is true," muttered he, " she seemed excited with 
 joy about this excursion, and in her eyes shone a fire I have 
 seldom seen there. There must be some peculiar circum- 
 stance connected with this ride. Who accompanied the 
 queen?" 
 
 " Princess Elizabeth," said John Heywood, who had 
 heard everything, and saw clearly the arrow that the earl 
 
126 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 had -shot at the queen. " Princess Elizabeth, her true and 
 dear friend, who never leaves her side. Besides, her 
 maids of honor, who, like the dragon in the fable, keep 
 watch over the beautiful princess." 
 
 " Who else is in the queen's company? " inquired 
 Henry, sullenly. 
 
 " The master of horse, Earl of Sudley," said Douglas, 
 " and " 
 
 " That is an observation in the highest degree superflu- 
 ous," interrupted John Heywood; "it is perfectly well 
 understood by itself that the master of horse accompanies 
 the queen. That is just as much his office as it is yours to 
 sing the song of your cousin, my parrot." 
 
 " He is right," said the king quickly. " Thomas Sey- 
 mour must accompany her, and it is my will also. Thomas 
 Seymour is a faithful servant, and this he has inherited 
 from his sister Jane, my much loved queen, now at rest 
 with God, that he is devoted to his king in steadfast affec- 
 tion." 
 
 u The time has not yet come when one may assail the 
 Seymours," thought the earl. " The king is yet attached 
 to them; so he will feel hostile toward the foes of the 
 Seymours. Let us then begin our attack on Henry How- 
 ard — that is to say, on the queen." 
 
 " Who accompanied the queen besides? " inquired 
 Henry the Eighth, emptying the golden beaker at a 
 draught, as though he would thereby cool the fire which 
 already began to blaze within him. But the fiery Ehenish 
 wine instead of cooling only heated him yet more; it 
 drove, like a tempest, the fire kindled in his jealous heart 
 in bright flames to his head, and made his brain glow like 
 his heart. 
 
 " Who else accompanied her beside these? " asked Earl 
 Douglas carelessly. " Well, I think, the lord chamberlain, 
 Earl of Surrey." 
 
 A dark scown gathered on the king's brow. The lion 
 had scented his prey. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 127 
 
 " The lord chamberlain is not in the queen's train! " 
 said John Heywood earnestly. 
 
 "No," exclaimed Earl Douglas. "The poor earl. 
 That will make him very sad." 
 
 " And why think you that will make him sad? " asked 
 the king in a voice very like the roll of distant thunder. 
 
 " Because the Earl of Surrey is accustomed to live in 
 the sunshine of royal favor, sire; because he resembles 
 that flower which always turns its head to the sun, and re- 
 ceives from it vigor, color, and brilliancy." 
 
 " Let him take care that the sun does not scorch him," 
 muttered the king. 
 
 " Earl," said John Heywood, " you must put on your 
 spectacles so that you can see better. This time yon have 
 confounded the sun with one of its satellites. Earl Surrey 
 is far too prudent a man to be so foolish as to gaze at the 
 sun, and thereby blind his eyes and parch his brain. And 
 so he is satisfied to worship one of the planets that circle 
 round the sun." 
 
 "What does the fool intend to say by that?" asked 
 the earl contemptuously. 
 
 " The wise will thereby give you to understand that 
 you have this time mistaken your daughter for the queen," 
 said John Heywood, emphasizing sharply every word, 
 " and that it has happened to you, as to many a great 
 astrologer, you have taken a planet for a sun." 
 
 Earl Douglas cast a dark, spiteful look at John Hey- 
 wood, who answered it with one equally piercing and furi- 
 ous. 
 
 Their eyes were firmly fixed on each other's, and 
 in those eyes they both read all the hatred and all the 
 bitterness which were working in the depths of their 
 souls. Both knew that they had from that hour 
 sworn to each other an enmity burning and full of 
 danger. 
 
 The king had noticed nothing of this dumb but signifi- 
 cant scene. He was looking down, brooding over his 
 
128 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 gloomy thoughts, and the storm-clouds rolling around his 
 brow gathered darker and darker. 
 
 With an impetuous movement he arose from his seat, 
 and this time he needed no helping hand to stand up. 
 Wrath was the mighty lever that threw him up. 
 
 The courtiers arose from their seats in silence, and no- 
 body besides John Heywood observed the look of under- 
 standing which Earl Douglas exchanged with Gardiner, 
 bishop of Winchester, and Wriothesley, the lord chan- 
 cellor. 
 
 " Ah, why is not Cranmer here ? " said John Heywood 
 to himself. " I see the three tiger-cats prowling, so there 
 must be prey to devour somewhere. Well, I will at 
 any rate keep my ears open wide enough to hear their 
 roaring." 
 
 "The dinner is over, gentlemen!" said the king 
 hastily; and the courtiers and gentlemen in waiting silent- 
 ly withdrew to the anteroom. 
 
 Only Earl Douglas, Gardiner, and Wriothesley, re- 
 mained in the hall, while John Heywood crept softly into 
 the king's cabinet and concealed himself behind the hang- 
 ing of gold brocade which covered the door leading from 
 the king's study to the outer anteroom. 
 
 * My lords," said the king, " follow me into my cabinet. 
 As we are dull, the most advisable thing for us to do is to 
 divert ourselves while we occupy ourselves with the weal 
 of our beloved subjects, and consult concerning their hap- 
 piness and what is conducive to their welfare. Follow 
 me then, and we will hold a general consultation." 
 
 " Earl Douglas, your arm! " and as the king leaned on 
 it and walked slowly toward the cabinet, at the entrance 
 of which the lord chancellor and the Bishop of Winchester 
 were waiting for him, he asked in a low voice: "You say 
 that Henry Howard dares ever intrude himself into the 
 queen's presence?" 
 
 " Sire, I did not say that; I meant only that he is con- 
 stantly to be seen in the queen's presence." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 129 
 
 " Oh, you mean that she perhaps authorizes him to do 
 so," said the king, grinding his teeth. 
 
 " Sire, I hold the queen to be a noble and dutiful 
 wife." 
 
 " I should be quite inclined to lay your head at your 
 feet if you did not! " said the king, in whose face the first 
 lightning of the bursting cloud of wrath began to flash. 
 
 a My head belongs to the king! * said Earl Douglas re- 
 spectfully. " Let him do with it as he pleases." 
 
 " But Howard — you mean, then, that Howard loves 
 the queen? " 
 
 " Yes, sire, I dare affirm that." 
 
 " Now, by the Mother of God, I will tread the serpent 
 under my feet, as I did his sister! " exclaimed Henry, 
 fiercely. " The Howards are an ambitious, dangerous, 
 and hypocritical race." 
 
 "A race that never forgets that a daughter of their 
 house has sat on your throne." 
 
 " But they shall forget it," cried the king, " and I 
 must wash these proud and haughty thoughts out of their 
 brain with their own blood. They have not then learned, 
 from the example of their sister, how I punish disloyalty. 
 This insolent race needs another fresh example. Well, 
 they shall have it. Only put the means in my hand, 
 Douglas, only a little hook that I can strike into the flesh 
 of these Howards, and I tell you, with that little hook I 
 will drag them to the scaffold. Give me proof of the earl's 
 criminal love, and I promise you that for this I will grant 
 you what you ask." 
 
 " Sire, I will give you this proof." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 * In four days, sire ! At the great contest of the poets, 
 which you have ordered to take place on the queen's birth- 
 day." 
 
 "I thank you, Douglas, I thank you," said the king 
 with an expression almost of joy. In four days you will 
 have rid me of the troublesome race of Howards." 
 
X30 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 * But, sire, if I cannot give the proof you demand with- 
 out accusing one other person? " 
 
 The king, who was just about to pass the door of his 
 cabinet, stood still, and looked steadily into the earl's 
 eyes. " Then," said he, in a tone peculiarly awful, " you 
 mean the queen? "Well, if she is guilty, I will punish her. 
 God has placed the sword in my hand that I may bear it to 
 His honor and to the terror of mankind. If the queen has 
 sinned, she will be punished. Furnish me the proof of 
 Howard's guilt, and do not trouble yourself if we thereby 
 discover the guilt of others. We shall not timidly shrink 
 back, but let justice take its course." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S FBIEND. 
 
 Earl Douglas, Gardiner, and Wriothesley, had ac- 
 companied the king into his cabinet. 
 
 At last the great blow was to be struck, and the plan of 
 the three enemies of the queen, so long matured and well- 
 considered, was to be at length put in execution. There- 
 fore, as they followed the king, who with unwonted activ- 
 ity preceded them, they exchanged with each other one 
 more look of mutual understanding. 
 
 By that look Earl Douglas said, u The hour has come. 
 Be ready! " 
 
 And the looks of his friends responded, " We are 
 ready!" 
 
 John Heywood, who, hidden behind the hangings, saw 
 and observed everything, could not forbear a slight shud- 
 der at the sight of these four men, whose dark and hard 
 features seemed incapable of being touched by any ray of 
 pity or mercy. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 131 
 
 There was first the king, that man with the Protean 
 countenance, across which storm and sunshine, God and 
 the devil traced each minute new lines; who could be now 
 an inspired enthusiast, and now a bloodthirsty tyrant; now 
 a sentimental wit, and anon a wanton reveler; the king, 
 on whose constancy nobody, not even himself, could rely; 
 ever ready, as it suited his caprice or his interest, to betray 
 his most faithful friend, and to send to the scaffold to-day 
 those whom but yesterday he had caressed and assured of 
 his unchanging affection; the king, who considered him- 
 self privileged to indulge with impunity his low appetites, 
 his revengeful impulses, his bloodthirsty inclinations; who 
 was devout from vanity, because devotion afforded him an 
 opportunity of identifying himself with God, and of re- 
 garding himself in some sort the patron of Deity. 
 
 There was Earl Douglas, the crafty courtier with ever- 
 smiling face, who seemed to love everybody, while in fact 
 he hated all; who assumed the appearance of perfect 
 harmlessness, and seemed to be indifferent to everything 
 but pleasure, while nevertheless secretly he held in his 
 hand all the strings of that great net which encompassed 
 alike court and king — Earl Douglas, whom the king loved 
 for this alone, because he generally gave him the title of 
 grand and wise high-priest of the Church, and who was, 
 notwithstanding this, Loyola's vicegerent, and a true and 
 faithful adherent of that pope who had damned the king 
 as a degenerate son and given him over to the wrath of 
 God. 
 
 Lastly, there were the two men with dark, malignant 
 looks, with inflexible, stony faces, which were never lighted 
 up by a smile, or a gleam of joy; who always condemned, 
 always punished, and whose countenances never bright- 
 ened save when the dying shriek of the condemned, or 
 the groans of some poor wretch upon the rack, fell 
 upon their ears; who were the tormentors of humanity, 
 while they called themselves the ministers and servants 
 of God. 
 
132 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 " Sire/' said Gardiner, when the king had slowly taken 
 his seat upon the ottoman — " sire, let us first ask the bless- 
 ing of the Lord our God on this hour of conference. May 
 God, who is love, but who is wrath also, may He enlighten 
 and bless us! " 
 
 The king devoutly folded his hands, but it was only a 
 prayer of wrath that animated his soul. 
 
 " Grant, God, that I may punish Thine enemies, and 
 everywhere dash in pieces the guilty! " 
 
 "Amen!" said Gardiner, as he repeated with solemn 
 earnestness the king's words. 
 
 " Send us the thunderbolt of Thy wrath," prayed 
 Wriothesley, " that we may teach the world to recognize 
 Thy power and glory! " 
 
 Earl Douglas took care not to pray aloud. What he 
 had to request of God was not allowed to reach the ear of 
 the king. 
 
 " Grant, God," prayed he in his heart, " grant that 
 my work may prosper, and that this dangerous queen may 
 ascend the scaffold, to make room for my daughter, who is 
 destined to bring back into the arms of our holy mother, 
 the Church, this guilty and faithless king." 
 
 " And now, my lords," said the king, fetching a long 
 breath, " now tell me how stand matters in my kingdom, 
 and at my court?" 
 
 " Badly," said Gardiner. " Unbelief again lifts up its 
 head. It is a hydra. If you strike off one of its heads, 
 two others immediately spring up in its place. This 
 cursed sect of reformists and atheists multiplies day by 
 day, and our prisons are no longer sufficient to contain 
 them; and when we drag them to the stake, their joyful 
 and courageous death always makes fresh proselytes and 
 fresh apostates." 
 
 "Yes, matters are bad," said the Lord Chancellor 
 Wriothesley; " in vain have we promised pardon and for- 
 giveness to all those who would return penitent and con- 
 trite; they laugh to scorn our offers of pardon, and prefer 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 13& 
 
 a death of torture to the royal clemency. What avails it 
 that we have burnt to death Miles Coverdale, who had the- 
 hardihood to translate the Bible? His death appears to 
 have been only the tocsin that aroused other fanatics, and,, 
 without our being able to divine or suspect where all these 
 books come from, they have overflowed and deluged the 
 whole land; and we now already have more than four 
 translations of the Bible. The people read them with 
 eagerness; and the corrupt seek of mental illumination 
 and free-thinking waxes daily more powerful and more- 
 pernicious." 
 
 " And now you, Earl Douglas? " asked the king, when 
 the lord chancellor ceased. " These noble lords have told 
 me how matters stand in my kingdom. You will advise 
 me what is the aspect of things at my court." 
 
 " Sire," said Earl Douglas, slowly and solemnly— for he 
 wished each word to sink into the king's breast like a poi- 
 soned arrow — " sire, the people but follow the example 
 which the court sets them. How can you require faith of 
 the people, when under their own eyes the court turns 
 faith to ridicule, and when infidels find at court aid and 
 protection?" 
 
 " You accuse, but give no names," said the king, impa- 
 tiently. " Who dares at my court be a protector of here- 
 tics?" 
 
 " Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury!" said the 
 three men, as with one mouth. The signal-word was 
 spoken, the standard of a bloody struggle set up. 
 
 " Cranmer? " repeated the king thoughtfully. " He 
 has, however, always been a faithful servant and an atten- 
 tive friend to me. It was he who delivered me from the 
 unholy bond with Catharine of Aragon: it was he too who 
 warned me of Catharine Howard, and furnished me with 
 proofs of her guilt. Of what misdemeanor do you accuse 
 him?" 
 
 "He denies the six articles," said Gardiner, whose 
 malicious face now glowed with bitter hatred. " He rep- 
 
134 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 robates auricular confession, and believes not that the 
 voluntarily taken vows of celibacy are binding." 
 
 " If he does that, then he is a traitor! " cried the king, 
 who was fond of always throwing a reverence for chastity 
 and modesty, as a kind of holy mantle, over his own profli- 
 gate and lewd life; and whom nothing more embittered 
 than to encounter another on that path of vice which he 
 himself, by virtue of his royal prerogative, and his crown 
 by the grace of God, could travel in perfect safety. 
 
 " If he does that, then he is a traitor! My arm of 
 vengeance will smite him! " repeated the king again. 
 " It was I who gave my people the six articles, as a sacred 
 and authoritative declaration of faith; and I will not suf- 
 fer this only true and right doctrine to be assailed and ob- 
 scured. But you are mistaken, my lords. I am acquaint- 
 ed with Cranmer, and I know that he is loyal and faith- 
 ful/' 
 
 " And yet it is he," said Gardiner, " who confirms these 
 heretics in their obduracy and stiff -neckedness. He is the 
 cause why these lost wretches do not, from the fear of 
 divine wrath at least, return to you, their sovereign and 
 high-priest. For he preaches to them that God is love and 
 mercy; he teaches them that Christ came into the world 
 in order to bring to the world love and the forgiveness of 
 sins, and that they alone are Christ's true disciples and 
 servants who emulate His love. Do you not see then, sire, 
 that this is a covert and indirect accusation against your- 
 self, and that while he praises pardoning love, he at the 
 same time condemns and accuses your righteous and puni- 
 tory wrath?" 
 
 The king did not answer immediately, but sat with his 
 eyes fixed, grave and pondering. The fanatical priest had 
 gone too far; and, without being aware of it, it was he him- 
 self who was that very instant accusing the king. 
 
 Earl Douglas felt this. He read in the king's face 
 that he was just then in one of those moments of con- 
 trition which sometimes came over him when his soul held 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 135 
 
 involuntary intercourse with itself. It was necessary to 
 arouse the sleeping tiger and point out to him some prey, 
 so as to make him again bloodthirsty. 
 
 " It would be proper if Cranmer preached only Chris- 
 tian love," said he. " Then would he be only a faithful 
 servant of his Lord, and a follower of his king. But he 
 gives to the world an abominable example of a disobedient 
 and perfidious servant; he denies the truth of the six arti- 
 cles, not in words, but in deeds. You have ordered that 
 the priests of the Church remain single. Now, then, the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury is married! " 
 
 "Married!" cried the king, his visage glowing with 
 rage. "Ah, I will chastise him, this transgressor of my 
 holy laws!. A minister of the Church, a priest, whose 
 whole life should be naught but an exhibition of holiness, 
 an endless communion with God, and whose high calling it 
 is to renounce fleshly lusts and earthly desires! And he 
 is married! I will make him feel the whole weight of my 
 royal anger! He shall learn from his own experience that 
 the king's justice is inexorable, and that in every case he 
 smites the head of the sinner, be he who he may! " 
 
 " Your majesty is the embodiment of wisdom and jus- 
 tice," said Douglas, " and your faithful servants well know, 
 if the royal justice is sometimes tardy in smiting guilty of- 
 fenders, this happens not through your will, but through 
 your servants who venture to stay the arm of justice." 
 
 "When and where has this happened?" asked Henry; 
 and his face flushed with rage and excitement. " Where 
 is the offender whom I have not punished? Where in my 
 realm lives a being who has sinned against God or his king, 
 and whom I have not dashed to atoms? " 
 
 " Sire," said Gardiner solemnly, " Anne Askew is yet 
 alive." 
 
 " She lives to mock at your wisdom and to scoff at your 
 holy creed! " cried Wriothesley. 
 
 u She lives, because Bishop Cranmer wills that she 
 should not die," said Douglas, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
136 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 The king broke out into a short, dry laugh. "Ah, 
 Cranmer wills not that Anne Askew die! " said he, sneer- 
 ing. "He wills not that this girl, who has so fearfully 
 offended against her king, and against God, should be 
 punished! " 
 
 " Yes, she has offended fearfully, and yet two years 
 have passed away since her offence," cried Gardiner — " two 
 years which she has spent in deriding God and mocking 
 the king!" 
 
 " Ah," said the king, " we have still hoped to turn this 
 young, misguided creature from the ways of sin and error 
 to the path of wisdom and repentance. We wished for 
 once to give our people a shining example of our willing- 
 ness to forgive those who repent and renounce their 
 heresy, and to restore them to a participation of our royal 
 favor. Therefore it was that we commissioned you, 
 my lord bishop, by virtue of your prayers and your 
 forcible and convincing words, to pluck this poor child 
 from the claws of the devil, who has charmed her 
 ear." 
 
 " But she is unbending," said Gardiner, grinding his 
 teeth. " In vain have I depicted to her the pains of hell, 
 which await her if she return not to the faith; in vain 
 have I subjected her to every variety of torture and pen- 
 ance; in vain have I sent to her in prison other converts, 
 and had them pray with her night and day incessantly; 
 she remains unyielding, hard as stone, and neither the fear 
 of punishment nor the prospect of freedom and happiness 
 has the power to soften that marble heart." 
 
 " There is one means yet untried," said Wriothesley — 
 " a means, moreover, which is a more effective preacher of 
 repentance than the most enthusiastic orators and the 
 most fervent prayers, and which I have to thank for bring- 
 ing back to God and the faith many of the most hardened 
 heretics." 
 
 " And this means is " 
 
 " The rack, your majesty." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 137 
 
 "Ah, the rack!" replied the king, with an involun- 
 tary shudder. 
 
 " All means are good that lead to the holy end! " said 
 Gardiner, devoutly folding his hands. 
 
 " The soul must be saved, though the body be pierced 
 with wounds! " cried Wriothesley. 
 
 " The people must be convinced/' said Douglas, " that 
 the lofty spirit of the king spares not even those who are 
 under the protection of influential and might personages. 
 The people murmur that this time justice is not permitted 
 to prevail, because Archbishop Cranmer protects Anne 
 Askew, and the queen is her friend." 
 
 " The queen is never the friend of a criminal! " said 
 Henry, vehemently. 
 
 " Perchance she does not consider Anne Askew a crimi- 
 nal," responded Earl Douglas, with a slight smile. " It is 
 known, indeed, that the queen is a great friend of the 
 Keformation; and the people, who dare not call her a her- 
 etic — the people call her ' the Protestant/ " 
 
 " Is it, then, really believed that it is Catharine who 
 protects Anne Askew, and keeps her from the stake ? " 
 inquired the king, thoughtfully. 
 
 " It is so thought, your majesty." 
 
 " They shall soon see that they are mistaken, and that 
 Henry the Eighth well deserves to be called the Defender 
 of the Faith and the Head of his Church! " cried the king, 
 with burning rage. " For when have I shown myself so 
 long-suffering and weak in punishing, that people believe 
 me inclined to pardon and deal gently? Have I not sent 
 to the scaffold even Thomas More and Cromwell, two re- 
 nowned and in a certain respect noble and high-minded 
 men, because they dared defy my supremacy and oppose 
 the doctrine and ordinance which I commanded them to 
 believe ? Have I not sent to the block two of my queens — 
 two beautiful young women, in whom my heart was well 
 pleased, even when I punished them — because they had 
 provoked my wrath? Who, after such brilliant examples 
 10 
 
138 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 of our annihilating justice, who dare accuse us of for- 
 bearance ? " 
 
 " But at that time, sire," said Douglas, in his soft, in- 
 sinuating voice, " but at that time no queen as yet stood 
 at your side who called heretics true believers, and fa- 
 vored traitors with her friendship." 
 
 The king frowned, and his wrathful look encountered 
 the friendly and submissive countenance of the earl. 
 " You know I hate these covert attacks/' said he. " If 
 you can tax the queen with any crime, well now, do so. 
 If you cannot, hold your peace ! " 
 
 " The queen is a noble and virtuous lady," said the 
 earl, " only she sometimes permits herself to be led away 
 by her magnanimous spirit. * Or how, your majesty, can 
 it possibly be with your permission that my lady the queen 
 maintains a correspondence with Anne Askew ? n 
 
 "What say you? The queen in correspondence with 
 Anne Askew? " cried the king in a voice of thunder. 
 " That is a lie, a shameless lie, hatched up to ruin the 
 queen; for it is very well known that the poor king, who 
 has been so often deceived, so often imposed upon, be- 
 lieves himself to have at last found in this woman a being 
 whom he can trust, and in whom he can put faith. And 
 they grudge him that. They wish to strip him of this 
 last hope also, that his heart may harden entirely to stone, 
 and no emotion of pity evermore find access to him. Ah, 
 Douglas, Douglas, beware of my wrath, if you cannot prove 
 what you say! " 
 
 " Sire, I can prove it! For Lady Jane herself, no 
 longer ago than yesterday, was made to give up a note 
 from Anne Askew to the queen." 
 
 The king remained silent for a while, and gazed fixedly 
 on the ground. His three confidants observed him with 
 breathless, trembling expectation. 
 
 At length the king raised his head again, and turned 
 his gaze, which was now grave and steady, upon the lord 
 chancellor. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 139 
 
 "My Lord Chancellor Wriothesley," said he, "I em- 
 power you to conduct Anne Askew to the torture-room, 
 and try whether the torments which are prepared for the 
 body are perchance able to bring this erring soul to an 
 acknowledgment of her faults. My Lord Bishop Gardi- 
 ner, I promise my word that I will give attention to your 
 accusation against the Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
 that, if it be well founded, he shall not escape punishment. 
 My Lord Douglas, I will give my people and all the world 
 proof that I am still God's righteous and avenging vice- 
 gerent on earth, and that no consideration can restrain my 
 wrath, no after-thought stay my arm, whenever it is ready 
 to fall and smite the head of the guilty. And now, my 
 lords, let us declare this session at an end. Let us breathe 
 a little from these exertions, and seek some recreation for 
 one brief hour. 
 
 " My Lords Gardiner and Wriothesley, you are now at 
 liberty. You, Douglas, will accompany me into the small 
 reception-room. I want to see bright and laughing faces 
 around me. Call John Hey wood, and if you meet any 
 ladies in the palace, of course I beg them to shed on us 
 a little of that sunshine which you say is peculiarly 
 woman's." 
 
 He laughed, and, leaning on the earl's arm, left the 
 cabinet. 
 
 Gardiner and "Wriothesley stood there in silence, 
 watching the king, who slowly and heavily traversed the 
 adjacent hall, and whose cheery and laughing voice came 
 ringing back to them. 
 
 "He is a weathercock, turning every moment from 
 side to side," said Gardiner, with a contemptuous shrug of 
 the shoulders. 
 
 " He calls himself God's sword of vengeance, but he is 
 nothing more than a weak tool, which we bend and use at 
 our will," muttered Wriothesley, with a hoarse laugh. 
 " Poor, pitiful fool, deeming himself so mighty and sturdy; 
 imagining himself a free king, ruling by his sovereign will 
 
140 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 alone, and yet he is but our servant and drudge! Our 
 great work is approaching its end, and we shall one day 
 triumph. Anne Askew's death is the sign of a new cove- 
 nant, which will deliver England and trample the heretics 
 like dust beneath our feet. And when at length we shall 
 have put down Cranmer, and brought Catharine Parr to 
 the scaffold, then will we give King Henry a queen who 
 will reconcile him with God and the Church, out of which 
 is no salvation." 
 
 "Amen, so be it!" said Gardiner; and arm in arm 
 they both left the cabinet. 
 
 J)eep stillness now reigned in that little spot, and no- 
 body saw John Hey wood as he now came from behind the 
 hanging, and, completely worn out and faint, slipped for a 
 moment into a chair. 
 
 " Now I know, so far at least, the plan of these blood- 
 thirsty tiger-cats," muttered he. "They wish to give 
 Henry a popish queen; and so Cranmer must be over- 
 thrown, that, when they have deprived the queen of this 
 powerful prop, they may destroy her also and tread her in 
 the dust. But as God liveth, they shall not succeed in 
 this! God is just, and He will at last punish these evil- 
 doers. And supposing there is no God, then will we try 
 a little with the devil himself. ISTo, they shall not destroy 
 the noble Cranmer and this beautiful, high-minded queen. 
 I forbid it — I, John Heywood, the king's fool. I will see 
 everything, observe everything, hear everything. They 
 shall find me everywhere on their path; and when they 
 poison the king's ear with their diabolical whisperings, I 
 will heal it again with my merry deviltries. The king's 
 £ool will be the guardian angel of the queen." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 JOHN HEYWOOD. 
 
 After so much care and excitement, the king needed 
 an hour of recreation and amusement. Since the fair 
 young queen was seeking these far away in the chase, and 
 amid the beauties of Nature, Henry must, no doubt, be 
 content to seek them for himself, and in a way different 
 from the queen's. His unwieldiness and his load of flesh 
 prevented him from pursuing the joys of life beyond his 
 own halls; so the lords and ladies of his court had to bring 
 them hither to him, and station the flitting goddess of Joy, 
 with her wings fettered, in front of the king's trundle- 
 chair. 
 
 The gout had that day again overcome that mighty 
 king of earth; and a heavy, grotesque mass it was which 
 sat there in the elbow-chair. 
 
 But the courtiers still called him a fine-looking and 
 fascinating man; and the ladies still smiled on him and 
 said, by their sighs and by their looks, that they loved him; 
 that he was ever to them the same handsome and captivat- 
 ing man that he was twenty years before, when yet young, 
 fine-looking, and shm. How they smile upon him, and 
 ogle him! How Lady Jane, the maiden otherwise so 
 haughty and so chaste, does wish to ensnare him with her 
 bright eyes as with a net! How bewitchingly does the 
 Duchess of Eichmond, that fair and voluptuous woman, 
 laugh at the king's merry jests and double entendres ! 
 
 Poor king! whose corpulency forbids him to dance as 
 he once had done with so much pleasure and so much dex- 
 terity! Poor king! whose age forbids him to sing as once 
 he had done to the delight both of the court and himself! 
 
 But there are yet, however, pleasant, precious, joyous 
 hours, when the man revives some little in the king; when 
 even youth once more again awakes within him, and smiles 
 in a few dear, blessed pleasures. 
 
142 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 The king still has at least eyes to perceive beauty, and 
 a heart to feel it. 
 
 How beautiful Lady Jane is, this white lily with the 
 dark, star-like eyes! How beautiful Lady Richmond, this 
 full-blown red rose with the pearl-white teeth! 
 
 And they both smile at him; and when the king swears 
 he loves them, they bashfully cast down their eyes and 
 sigh. 
 
 " Do you sigh, Jane, because you love me ? " 
 
 " Oh, sire, you mock me. It would be a sin for me to 
 love you, for Queen Catharine is living/' 
 
 " Yes, she is living! " muttered the king; and his brow 
 darkened; and for a moment the smile disappeared from 
 his lips. 
 
 Lady Jane had committed a mistake. She had re- 
 minded the king of his wife when it was yet too soon to ask 
 for her death. 
 
 John Heywood read this in the countenance of his 
 royal master, and resolved to take advantage of it. He 
 wished to divert the attention of the king, and to draw it 
 away from the beautiful, captivating women who were 
 juggling him with their bewitching charms. 
 
 " Yes, the queen lives! " said he, joyfully, " and God 
 be praised for it! For how tedious and dull it would be at 
 this court had we not our fair queen, who is as wise as Me- 
 thuselah, and innocent and good as a new-born babe! Do 
 you not, Lady Jane, say with me, God be praised that 
 Queen Catharine is living? " 
 
 "I say so with you!" said Jane, with ill-concealed 
 vexation. 
 
 " And you, King Henry, do you not say it too? " 
 
 " Of course, fool! " 
 
 " Ah, why am I not King Henry? " sighed John Hey- 
 wood. " King, I envy you, not your crown, or your royal 
 mantle; not your attendants or your money. I envy you 
 only this, that you can say, ' God be praised that my wife is 
 still alive! ' while I never know but one phrase, ' God have 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 143 
 
 pity, my wife is still alive ! ' Ah, it is very seldom, king, 
 that I have heard a married man speak otherwise! You 
 are in that too, as in all things else, an exception, King 
 Henry; and your people have never loved you more warm- 
 ly and purely than when you say, ' I thank God that my 
 consort is alive ! ' Believe me, you are perhaps the only 
 man at your court who speaks after this manner, however 
 ready they may be to be your parrots, and re-echo what 
 the lord high-priest says." 
 
 " The only man that loves his wife ? " said Lady Rich- 
 mond. " Behold now the rude babbler! Do you not be- 
 lieve, then, that we women deserve to be loved? n 
 
 " I am convinced that you do not." 
 
 " And for what do you take us, then? " 
 
 " For cats, which God, since He had no more cat-skin, 
 stuck into a smooth hide ! " 
 
 " Take care, John, that we do not show you our claws! " 
 cried the duchess, laughing. 
 
 "Do it anyhow, my lady! I will then make a cross, 
 and ye will disappear. For devils, you well know, cannot 
 endure the sight of the holy cross, and ye are devils." 
 
 John. Hey wood, who was a remarkably fine singer, 
 seized the mandolin, which lay near him, and began to 
 sing. 
 
 It was a song, possible only in those days, and at 
 Henry's voluptuous and at the same time canting court — a 
 song full of the most wanton allusions, of the most cutting 
 jests against both monks and women; a song which made 
 Henry laugh, and the ladies blush; and in which John 
 Heywood had poured forth in glowing dithyrambics all 
 his secret indignation against Gardiner, the sneaking hypo- 
 crite of a priest, and against Lady Jane, the queen's false 
 and treacherous friend. 
 
 But the ladies laughed not. They darted flashing 
 glances at John Heywood; and Lady Richmond earnestly 
 and resolutely demanded the punishment of the perfidious 
 wretch who dared to defame women. 
 
144 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 The king laughed still harder. The rage of the ladies 
 was so exceedingly amusing. 
 
 " Sire/' said the beautiful Richmond, " he has insulted 
 not us, but the whole sex; and in the name of our sex, I 
 demand revenge for the affront." 
 
 " Yes, revenge ! " cried Lady Jane, hotly. 
 
 " Eevenge! " repeated the rest of the ladies. 
 
 " See, now, what pious and gentle-hearted doves ye 
 are! " cried John Heywood. 
 
 The king said, laughingly: " Well, now, you shall have 
 your will — you shall chastise him." 
 
 " Yes, yes, scourge me with rods, as they once scourged 
 the Messiah, because He told the Pharisees the truth. 
 See here! I am already putting on the crown of thorns." 
 
 He took the king's velvet cap with solemn air, and put 
 it on. 
 
 " Yes, whip him, whip him! " cried the king, laughing, 
 as he pointed to the gigantic vases of Chinese porcelain, 
 containing enormous bunches of roses, on whose long stems 
 arose a real forest of formidable-looking thorns. 
 
 "Pull the large bouquets to pieces; take the roses in 
 your hand, and whip him with the stems! " said the king, 
 and his eyes glistened with inhuman delight, for the scene 
 promised to be quite interesting. The rose-stems were 
 long and hard, and the thorns on them pointed and sharp 
 as daggers. How nicely they would pierce the flesh, and 
 how he would yell and screw his face, the good-natured 
 fool! 
 
 " Yes, yes, let him take off his coat, and we will whip 
 him!" cried the Duchess of Richmond; and the women, 
 all joining in the cry, rushed like furies upon John Hey- 
 wood, and forced him to lay aside his silk upper garment. 
 Then they hurried to the vases, snatched out the bouquets, 
 and with busy hands picked out the longest and stoutest 
 stems. And loud were their exclamations of satisfaction, 
 if the thorns were right and sharp, such as would penetrate 
 the flesh of the offender right deeply. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 145 
 
 The king's laughter and shouts of approval animated 
 them more and more, and made them more excited and 
 furious. Their cheeks glowed, their eyes glared; they re- 
 sembled Bacchantes circling the god of riotous joviality 
 with their shouts of " Evoe! evoe! " 
 
 " Not yet! do not strike yet! " cried the king. " You 
 must first strengthen yourselves for the exertion, and fire 
 your arms for a powerful blow! " 
 
 He took the large golden beaker which stood before 
 him and, tasting it, presented it to Lady Jane. 
 
 "Drink, my lady, drink, that your arm may be 
 strong! " 
 
 And they all drank, and with animated smiles pressed 
 their lips on the spot which the king's mouth had touched. 
 And now their eyes had a brighter flame, and their cheeks 
 a more fiery glow. 
 
 A strange and exciting sight it was, to see those beauti- 
 ful women burning with malicious joy and thirst for ven- 
 geance, who for the moment had laid aside all their elegant 
 attitudes, their lofty and haughty airs, to transform them- 
 selves into wanton Bacchantes, bent on chastising the 
 offender, who had so often and so bitterly lashed them all 
 with his tongue. 
 
 " Ah, I would a painter were here ! " said the king. 
 " He should paint us a picture of the chaste nymphs of 
 Diana pursuing Actaeon. You are Actaeon, John! " 
 
 "But they are not the chaste nymphs, king; no, far 
 from it," cried Heywood, laughing, "and between these 
 fair women and Diana I find no resemblance, but only a 
 difference." 
 
 " And in what consists the difference, John? " 
 
 " Herein, sire, that Diana carried her horn at her side; 
 but these fair ladies make their husbands wear their horns 
 on the forehead! " 
 
 A loud peal of laughter from the gentlemen, a yell 
 of rage from the ladies, was the reply of this new epigram 
 of John Heywood. 
 
146 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 They arranged themselves in two rows, and thus 
 formed a lane through which John Heywood had to pass. 
 
 " Come, John Heywood, come and receive your punish- 
 ment"; and they raised their thorny rods threateningly, 
 and flourished them with angry gestures high above their 
 heads. 
 
 The scene was becoming to John in all respects very 
 piquant, for these rods had very sharp thorns, and only a 
 thin linen shirt covered his back. 
 
 With bold step, however, he approached the fatal pas- 
 sage through which he was to pass. 
 
 Already he beheld the rods drawn back; and it seemed 
 to him as if the thorns were even now piercing his back. 
 
 He halted, and turned with a laugh to the king. 
 u Sire, since you have condemned me to die by the hands 
 of these nymphs, I claim the right of every condemned 
 criminal — a last favor." 
 
 " The which we grant you, John." 
 
 " I demand that I may put on these fair women one 
 condition — one condition on which they may whip me. 
 Does your majesty grant me this? " 
 
 "I grant it!" 
 
 * And you solemnly pledge me the word of a king that 
 this condition shall be faithfully kept and fulfilled? " 
 
 a My solemn, kingly word for it! " 
 
 "Now, then," said John Heywood, as he entered the 
 passage, "now, then, my ladies, my condition is this: 
 that one of you who has had the most lovers, and has of ten- 
 est decked her husband's head with horns, let her lay the 
 first stroke on my back." * 
 
 A deep silence followed. The raised arms of the fair 
 women sank. The roses fell from their hands and 
 dropped to the ground. Just before so bloodthirsty and 
 revengeful, they seemed now to have become the softest 
 and gentlest of beings. 
 
 But could their looks have killed, their fire certainly 
 
 * Flogel's " Geschichte der Hofnarren," p. 899. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 147 
 
 would have consumed poor John Heywood, who now gazed 
 at them with an insolent sneer, and advanced into the very 
 midst of their lines. 
 
 "Now, my ladies, you strike him not?" asked the 
 king. 
 
 a No, your majesty, we despise him too much even to 
 wish to chastise him," said the Duchess of Eichmond. 
 
 " Shall your enemy who has injured you go thus un- 
 punished? " asked the king. " No, no, my ladies; it shall 
 not be said that there is a man in my kingdom whom I 
 have let escape when so richly deserving punishment. We 
 will, therefore, impose some other punishment on him. 
 He calls himself a poet, and has often boasted that he 
 •could make his pen fly as fast as his tongue! Now, then, 
 John, show us in this manner that you are no liar! I. com- 
 mand you to write, for the great court festival which takes 
 place in a few days, a new interlude; and one indeed, hear 
 you, John, which is calculated to make the greatest grow- 
 ler merry, and over which these ladies will be forced to 
 laugh so heartily, that they will forget all their ire ! " 
 
 " Oh," said John dolefully, " what an equivocal and 
 lewd poem it must be to please these ladies and make them 
 laugh! My king, we must, then, to please these dear 
 ladies, forget a little our chastity, modesty, and maiden 
 bashfulness, and speak in the spirit of the ladies — that is 
 to say, as lasciviously as possible." 
 
 " You are a wretch! " said Lady Jane; u a vulgar hypo- 
 critical fool." 
 
 " Earl Douglas, your daughter is speaking to you," said 
 John Heywood, calmly. " She flatters you much, your 
 tender daughter." 
 
 " Now then, John, you have ^eard my orders, and will 
 you obey them? In four days wjll this festival begin; I 
 give you two days more. In six days, then, you have to 
 write a new interlude. And if he fails to do it, my ladies, 
 you shall whip him until you bring the blood; and that 
 without any condition." 
 
148 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Just then was heard without a nourish of trumpets 
 and the clatter of horse-hoofs. 
 
 * The queen has returned," said John Heywood, with 
 a countenance beaming with joy, as he fixed his smil- 
 ing gaze full of mischievous satisfaction on Lady Jane. 
 " Nothing further now remains for you to do, but dutifully 
 to meet your mistress upon the great staircase, for, as you 
 so wisely said before, the queen still lives" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, John Heywood ran out 
 and rushed through the anteroom and down the steps to 
 meet the queen. Lady Jane watched him with a dark, 
 angry look; and as she turned slowly to the door to go and 
 meet the queen, she muttered low between her closely- 
 pressed lips: " The fool must die, for he is the queen's 
 friend! " 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE CONFIDANT. 
 
 The queen was just ascending the steps of the great 
 public staircase, and she greeted John Heywood with a 
 friendly smile. 
 
 " My lady," said he aloud, " I have a few words in 
 private to say to you, in the name of his majesty." 
 
 "Words in private!" repeated Catharine, as she 
 stopped upon the terrace of the palace. " Well, then, fall 
 back, my lords and ladies; we wish to receive his majesty's 
 mysterious message." 
 
 The royal train silently and respectfully withdrew into 
 the large anteroom of the palace, while the queen re- 
 mained alone with John Heywood on the terrace. 
 
 " Now, speak, John." 
 
 " Queen, heed well my words, and grave them deep on 
 your memory! A conspiracy is forged against you, and in 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 149 
 
 a few days, at the great festival, it will be ripe for execu- 
 tion. Guard well, therefore, every word you utter, ay, 
 even your very thoughts. Beware of every dangerous 
 step, for you may be certain that a listener stands behind 
 you! And if you need a confidant, confide in no one but 
 me! I tell you, a great danger lies before you, and only 
 by prudence and presence of mind will you be able to 
 avoid it." 
 
 This time the queen did not laugh at her friend's warn- 
 ing voice. She was serious; she even trembled. 
 
 She had lost her proud sense of security and her se- 
 rene confidence — she was no longer guiltless — she had a 
 dangerous secret to keep, consequently she felt a dread of 
 discovery; and she trembled not merely for herself, but 
 also for him whom she loved. 
 
 "And in what consists this plot?" asked she, with 
 agitation. 
 
 " I do not yet understand it; I only know that it exists. 
 But I will search it out, and if your enemies lurk about 
 you with watchful eyes, well, then, I will have spying eyes 
 to observe them." 
 
 " And is it I alone that they threaten? " 
 
 " No, queen, your friend also." 
 
 Catharine trembled. " What friend, John? " 
 
 " Archbishop Cranmer." 
 
 " Ah, the archbishop! " replied she, drawing a deep 
 breath. 
 
 " And is he all, John? Does their enmity pursue only 
 me and him? " 
 
 " Only you two! " said John Hey wood, sadly, for he had 
 fully understood the queen's sigh of relief, and he knew 
 that she had trembled for another. " But remember, 
 queen, that Cranmer's destruction would be likewise your 
 own; and that as you protect the archbishop, he also will 
 protect you with the king — you, queen, and your friends" 
 
 Catharine gave a slight start, and the crimson on her 
 cheek grew deeper. 
 
150 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " I shall always be mindful of that, and ever be a true 
 and real friend to him and to you; for you two are my 
 only friends: is it not so? " 
 
 " No, your majesty, I spoke to you of yet a third, of 
 Thomas Seymour." 
 
 "Oh, he!" cried she with a sweet smile. Then she 
 said suddenly, and in a low quick voice: " You say I must 
 trust no one here but you. Now, then, I will give you a 
 proof of my confidence. Await me in the green summer- 
 house at twelve o'clock to-night. You must be my at- 
 tendant on a dangerous excursion. Have you courage, 
 John?" 
 
 " Courage to lay down my life for you, queen! " 
 
 " Come, then, but bring your weapon with you." 
 
 "At your command! and is that your only order for 
 to-day?" 
 
 " That is all, John! only," added she, with hesitation 
 and a slight blush, " only, if you perchance meet Earl Sud- 
 ley, you may say to him that I charged you to greet him in 
 my name." 
 
 " Oh! " sighed John Hey wood, sadly. 
 
 "He has to-day saved my life, John," said she, as if 
 excusing herself. " It becomes me well, then, to be grate- 
 ful to him." 
 
 And giving him a friendly nod, she stepped into the 
 porch of the castle. 
 
 "Now let anybody say again, that chance is not the 
 most mischievous and spiteful of all devils! " muttered 
 John Heywood. " This devil, chance, throws in the 
 queen's way the very person she ought most to avoid; and 
 she must be, as in duty bound, very grateful to a lover. 
 Oh, oh, so he has saved her life? But who knows whether 
 he may not be one day the cause of her losing it! " 
 
 He dropped his head gloomily upon his breast, when 
 suddenly he heard behind him a low voice calling his 
 name; and as he turned, he saw the young Princess Eliza- 
 beth hastening toward him with a hurried step. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 151 
 
 :She was at that moment very beautiful. Her eyes 
 gleamed with the fire of passion; her cheeks glowed; and 
 about her crimson lips there played a gentle, happy smile. 
 She wore, according to the fashion of the time, a close- 
 fitting high-necked dress, which showed off to perfection 
 the delicate lines of her slender and youthful form, while 
 the wide standing collar concealed the somewhat too great 
 length of her neck, and made her ruddy, as yet almost 
 childish face stand out as it were from a pedestal. On 
 -either side of her high, thoughtful brow, fell, in luxurious 
 profusion, light flaxen curls; her head was covered with 
 a black velvet cap, from which a white feather drooped to 
 lier shoulders. 
 
 She was altogether a charming and lovely apparition, 
 full of nobleness and grace, full of fire and energy; and 
 yet, in spite of her youthfulness, not wanting in a certain 
 grandeur and dignity. Elizabeth, though still almost a 
 child, and frequently bowed and humbled by misfortune, 
 yet ever remained her father's own daughter. And though 
 Henry had declared her a bastard and excluded her from 
 the succession to the throne, yet she bore the stamp of her 
 Toyal blood in her high, haughty brow; in her keen, flash- 
 ing eye. 
 
 As she now stood before John Heywood, she was not, 
 however, the haughty, imperious princess, but merely the 
 shy, blushing maiden, who feared to trust her first girlish 
 secret to another's ear, and ventured only with trembling 
 hand to draw aside the veil which concealed her heart. 
 
 "John Heywood," said she, "you have often told me 
 that you loved me; and I know that my poor unfortunate 
 mother trusted you, and summoned you as a witness of 
 her innocence. You could not at that time save the 
 mother, but will you now serve Anne Boleyn's daughter, 
 and be her faithful friend? " 
 
 " I will," said Heywood, solemnly, " and as true as 
 there is a God above us, you shall never find me a traitor/' 
 
 "I believe you, John; I know that I may trust you. 
 
152 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Listen then, I will now tell you my secret — a secret which 
 no one but God knows, and the betrayal of which might 
 bring me to the scaffold. Will you then swear to me, that 
 you will never, under any pretext, and from any motive 
 whatsoever, betray to anybody, so much as a single word 
 of what I am now about to tell you? Will you swear to 
 me, never to intrust this secret to any one, even on your 
 death-bed, and not to betray it even in the confessional? " 
 
 " Now as regards that, princess," said John, with a 
 laugh, " you are perfectly safe. I never go to confession, 
 for confession is a highly-spiced dish of popery on which I 
 long since spoilt my stomach; and as concerns my death- 
 bed, one cannot, under the blessed and pious reign of 
 Henry the Eighth, altogether know whether he will be 
 really a participant of any kind, or whether he may not 
 make a far more speedy and convenient trip into eternity 
 by the aid of the hangman." 
 
 " Oh, be serious, John — do, I pray you! Let the fool's 
 mask, under which you hide your sober and honest face, 
 not hide it from me also. Be serious, John, and swear to 
 me that you will keep my secret." 
 
 " Well, then, I swear, princess; I swear by your moth- 
 er's spirit to betray not a word of what you are going to 
 tell me." 
 
 " I thank you, John. Now lean this way nearer to me, 
 lest the breeze may catch a single word of mine and bear it 
 farther. John, I love! " 
 
 She saw the half -surprised, half -incredulous smile 
 which played around John Heywood's lips. " Oh," con- 
 tinued she, passionately, " you believe me not. You con- 
 sider my fourteen years, and you think the child knows 
 nothing yet of a maiden's feelings. But remember, John, 
 that those girls who live under a warm sun are early ri- 
 pened by his glowing rays, and are already wives and moth- 
 ers when they should still be dreaming children. Well, 
 now, I too am the daughter of a torrid zone, only mine has 
 not been the sun of prosperity, and it has been sorrow and 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 153 
 
 misfortune which have matured my heart. Believe me, 
 John, I love! A glowing, consuming fire rages within me; 
 it is at once my delight and my misery, my happiness and 
 my future. 
 
 " The king has robbed me of a brilliant and glorious 
 future; let them not, then, grudge me a happy one, at 
 least. Since I am never to be a queen, I will at least be 
 a happy and beloved wife. If I am condemned to live in 
 obscurity and lowliness, at the very least, I must not be 
 prohibited from adorning this obscure and inglorious exist- 
 ence with flowers, which thrive not at the foot of the 
 throne, and to illuminate it with stars more sparkling than 
 the refulgence of the most radiant kingly crown." 
 
 " Oh, you are mistaken about your own self! " said 
 John Heywood, sorrowfully. "You choose the one only 
 because the other is denied. You would love only because 
 you cannot rule; and since your heart, which thirsts for 
 fame and honor, can find no other satisfaction, you would 
 quench its thirst with some other draught, and would ad- 
 minister love as an opiate to lull to rest its burning pains. 
 Believe me, princess, you do not yet know yourself! You 
 were not born to be merely a loving wife, and your brow is 
 much too high and haughty to wear only a crown of 
 myrtle. Therefore, consider well what you do, princess! 
 Be not carried away by your father's passionate blood, 
 which boils in your veins also. Think well before you act. 
 Your foot is yet on one of the steps to the throne. Draw 
 it not back voluntarily. Maintain your position; then, 
 the next step brings you again one stair higher up. Do 
 not voluntarily renounce your just claim, but abide in pa- 
 tience the coming of the day of retribution and justice. 
 Only do not yourself make it impossible, that there may 
 then be a full and glorious reparation. Princess Elizabeth 
 may yet one day be queen, provided she has not exchanged 
 her name for one less glorious and noble." 
 
 "John Heywood/' said she, with a bewitching smile, 
 " I have told you I love him." 
 11 
 
154 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " Well, love him as much, as you please, but do it in- 
 silence, and tell him not of it; but teach your love resig- 
 nation." 
 
 " John, he knows it already." 
 
 "Ah, poor princess! you are still but a child, that 
 sticks its hands in the fire with smiling bravery and 
 scorches them, because it knows not that fire burns." 
 
 " Let it burn, John, burn! and let the flames curl over 
 my head! Better be consumed in fire than perish slowly 
 and horribly with a deadly chill! I love him, I tell you r 
 and he already knows it! " 
 
 "Well, then, love him, but, at least, do not marry 
 him! " cried John Hey wood, surlily. 
 
 "Marry!" cried she, with astonishment. "Marry! I 
 had never thought of it." 
 
 She dropped her head upon her breast, and stood there,, 
 silent and thoughtful. 
 
 " I am much afraid I made a blunder, then! " mut- 
 tered John Heywood. " I have suggested a new thought 
 to her. Ah, ah, King Henry has done well in appointing 
 me his fool! Just when we deem ourselves the wisest, we 
 are the greatest fools! " 
 
 " John," said Elizabeth, as she raised her head again 
 and smiled to him in a glow of excitement, " John, you are 
 entirely right; if we love, we must marry." 
 
 "But I said just the contrary, princess!" 
 
 "All right!" said she, resolutely. "All this belongs 
 to the future; we will busy ourselves with the present. I 
 have promised my lover an interview."" 
 
 " An interview! " cried John Heywood, in amazement. 
 " You will not be so foolhardy as to keep your promise ? " 
 
 " John Heywood," said she, with an air of approaching 
 solemnity, "King Henry's daughter will never make a 
 promise without fulfilling it. For better or for worse, I 
 will always keep my plighted word, even if the greatest 
 misery and ruin were the result! " 
 
 John Heywood ventured! to offer not further opposition. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 155 
 
 There was at this moment something peculiarly lofty, 
 proud, and truly royal in her air, which impressed him 
 with awe, and before which he bowed. 
 
 " I have granted him an interview because he wished 
 it," said Elizabeth; "and, John, I will confess it to you, 
 my own heart longed for it. Seek not, then, to shake 
 my resolution; it is as firm as a rock. But if you are 
 not willing to stand by me, say so, and I will then look 
 about me for another friend, who loves me enough to im- 
 pose silence on his thoughts." 
 
 " But who, perhaps, will go and betray you. No, no, 
 it has been once resolved upon, and unalterably; so no one 
 but I must be your confidant. Tell me, then, what I am 
 to do, and I will obey you." 
 
 " You know, John, that my apartments are situated in 
 yonder wing, overlooking the garden. Well, in my dress- 
 ing-room, behind one of the large wall pictures, I have dis- 
 covered a door leading into a lonely, dark corridor. From 
 this corridor there is a passage up into yonder tower. It 
 is unoccupied and deserted. Nobody ever thinks of enter- 
 ing that part of the castle, and the quiet of the grave 
 reigns throughout those apartments, which nevertheless 
 are furnished with a magnificence truly regal. There will 
 I receive him." 
 
 " But how shall he make his way thither? " 
 
 " Oh, do not be concerned; I have thought over that 
 many days since; and while I was refusing my lover the 
 interview for which he again and again implored me, I was 
 quietly preparing everything so as to be able one day to 
 grant it to* him. To-day this object is attained, and to- 
 day have I fulfilled his wish, voluntarily and unasked; for 
 I saw he had no more courage to ask again. Listen, then. 
 From the tower, a spiral staircase leads down to a small 
 door, through which you gain entrance into the garden. I 
 have a key to this door. Here it is. Once in possession 
 of this key, he has nothing further to do but remain be- 
 hind in the park this evening, instead of leaving the cas- 
 
156 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 tie; and by means of this he will come to me, for I will 
 wait for him in the tower, in the large room directly op- 
 posite the staircase landing. Here, take the key; give it 
 to him, and repeat to him all that I have said." 
 
 " Well, princess, there remains for you now only to ap- 
 point the hour at which you will receive him there." 
 
 " The hour," said she, as she turned away her blushing 
 face. " You understand, John, that it is not feasible to 
 receive him there by day, because there is by day not a 
 single moment in which I am not watched." 
 
 " You will then receive him by night! " said John 
 Hey wood, sadly. " At what hour? " 
 
 "At midnight! And now you know all; and I beg 
 you, John, hasten and carry him my message; for, look, 
 the sun is setting, and it will soon be night." 
 
 She nodded to him with a smile, and turned to go. 
 
 " Princess, you have forgotten the most important 
 point. You have not yet told me his name." 
 
 "My God! and you do not guess it? John Hey wood, 
 who has such sharp eyes, sees not that there is at this 
 -court but a single one that deserves to be loved by a 
 daughter of the king! " 
 
 " And the name of this single one is " 
 
 " Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sudley! " whispered Eliza- 
 beth, as she turned away quickly and entered the castle. 
 
 " Oh, Thomas Seymour! " said John Heywood, utterly 
 astounded. As if paralyzed with horror, he stood there 
 motionless, staring up at the sky and repeating over and 
 over, " Thomas Seymour! Thomas Seymour! So he is a 
 sorcerer who administers a love-potion to all the women, 
 and befools them with his handsome, saucy face. Thomas 
 Seymour! The queen loves him; the princess loves him; 
 and then there is this Duchess of Eichmond, who will by 
 all means be his wife! This much, however, is certain, he 
 is a traitor who deceives both, because to both he has made 
 the same confession of love. And there again is that imp, 
 chance, which compels me to be the confidant of both 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 157 
 
 these women. But I will be well on my guard against 
 executing both, my commissions to this sorcerer. Let him 
 at any rate become the husband of the princess; perhaps 
 this would be the surest means of freeing the queen from 
 her unfortunate love." 
 
 He was silent, and still gazed up thoughtfully at the 
 sky. "Yes," said he then, quite cheerfully, "thus shall 
 it be. I will combat the one love with the other. For 
 the queen to love him, is dangerous. I will therefore so 
 conduct matters that she must hate him. I will remain 
 her confidant. I will receive her letters and her commis- 
 sions, but I will burn her letters and not execute her com- 
 missions. I am not at liberty to tell her that the faithless 
 Thomas Seymour is false to her, for I have solemnly 
 pledged my word to the princess never to breathe her se- 
 cret to any one; and I will and must keep my word. 
 Smile and love, then; dream on thy sweet dream of love, 
 queen; I wake for thee; I will cause the dark cloud rest- 
 ing on thee to pass by. It may, perhaps, touch thine heart; 
 but thy noble and beautiful head — that at least it shall 
 not be allowed to crush; that " 
 
 "Now, then, what are you staring up at the sky for, 
 as if you read there a new epigram with which to make the 
 king laugh, and the parsons rave?" asked a voice near 
 him; and a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder. 
 
 John Hey wood did not look round at all; he remained 
 in the same attitude, gazing up steadily at the sky. He 
 had very readily recognized the voice of him who had 
 addressed him; he knew very well that he who stood near 
 him was no other than the bold sorcerer whom he was just 
 then cursing at the bottom of his heart; no other than 
 Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sudley. 
 
 " Say, John, is it really an epigram? " asked Thomas 
 Seymour again. "An epigram on the hypocritical, lust- 
 ful, and sanctimonious priestly rabble, that with blasphe- 
 mous hypocrisy fawn about the king, and are ever watch- 
 ful how they can set a trap for one of us honorable and 
 
158 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 brave men? Is that what Heaven is now revealing to 
 you?" 
 
 " No, my lord, I am only looking at a hawk which 
 hovers about there in the clouds. I saw him mount, earl, 
 and only think of the wonder — he had in each talon a 
 dove! Two doves for one hawk. Is not that too much — 
 wholly contrary to law and nature ? " 
 
 The earl cast on him a penetrating and distrustful look. 
 But John Heywood, remaining perfectly calm and unem- 
 barrassed, continued looking at the clouds. 
 
 " How stupid such a brute is, and how much to his dis- 
 advantage will his very greediness be! For since he holds 
 a dove in each claw, he will not be able to enjoy either of 
 them; because he has no claw at liberty with which to tear 
 them. Soon as he wishes to enjoy the one, the other will 
 escape; when he grabs after that, the other flies away; 
 and so at last he will have nothing at all, because he was 
 too rapacious and wanted more than he could use." 
 
 " And you are looking after this hawk in the skies? 
 But you are perhaps mistaken, and he whom you seek 
 is not above there at all, but here below, and perchance 
 quite close to you? " asked Thomas Seymour significantly. 
 
 But John Heywood would not understand him. 
 
 " Nay," said he, " he still flies, but it will not last long. 
 For verily I saw the owner of the dovecot from which the 
 hawk has stolen the two doves. He had a weapon; and 
 he, be ye sure of it — he will kill this hawk, because he has 
 robbed him of his pet doves." 
 
 "Enough, enough!" cried the earl, impatiently. 
 " You would give me a lesson, but you must know I take 
 no counsel from a fool, even were he the wisest." 
 
 " In that you are right, my lord, for only fools are so 
 foolish as to hearken to the voice of wisdom. Besides, 
 each man forges his own fortune. And now, wise sir, I 
 will give you a key, which you yourself have forged, and 
 behind which lies your fortune. There, take this key; 
 and if you at midnight slip through the garden to the 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 159 
 
 tower over yonder, this key will open to you the door of 
 the same, and you can then without hesitation mount the 
 spiral staircase and open the door which is opposite the 
 staircase. Behind that you will find the fortune which you 
 have forged for yourself, sir blacksmith, and which will bid 
 you welcome with warm lips and soft arms. And so com- 
 mending you to God, I must hasten home to think over 
 the comedy which the king has commanded me to write." 
 
 " But you do not so much as tell me from whom this 
 message comes?" said Earl Sudley, retaining him. "You 
 invite me to a meeting and give me a key, and I know 
 not who will await me there in that tower." 
 
 " Oh, you do not know? There is then more than one 
 who might await you there ? Well, then, it is the youngest 
 and smallest of the two doves who sends you the key." 
 
 "Princess Elizabeth?" 
 
 " You have named her, not I! " said John Hey wood, as 
 he disengaged himself from the earl's grasp and hurried 
 across the courtyard to betake himself to his lodgings. 
 
 Thomas Seymour watched him with a scowl, and then 
 slowly directed his eyes to the key that Heywood had 
 given him. 
 
 " The princess then awaits me," whispered he, soft- 
 ly. "Ah, who can read it in the stars? who can know 
 whither the crown will roll when it tumbles from King 
 Henry's head? I love Catharine, but I love ambition still 
 more; and if it is demanded, to ambition must I sacrifice 
 my heart." 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 GAMMEK GURTON'S NEEDLE. 
 
 Slowly and lost in gloomy thought, John Heywood 
 walked toward his lodgings. These lodgings were situated 
 in the second or inner court of the vast palace of White- 
 
160 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 hall, in that wing of the castle which contained the apart- 
 ments of all the higher officers of the royal household, and 
 *so those of the court- jesters also; for the king's fool was 
 at that period a very important and respectable personage, 
 who occupied a rank equal to that of a gentleman of the 
 royal bed-chamber. 
 
 John Heywood had just crossed this second court- 
 yard, when all at once loud, wrangling voices, and the 
 <clear, peculiar ring of a box on the ear, startled him out of 
 his meditations. 
 
 He stopped and listened. 
 
 His face, before so serious, had now reassumed its usual 
 merry and shrewd expression; his large eyes again glit- 
 tered with humor and mischief. • 
 
 " There again verily is my sweet, charming house- 
 keeper, Gammer Gurton," said John Heywood, laughing; 
 M and she no doubt is quarrelling again with my excellent 
 servant, that poor, long-legged, blear-eyed Hodge. Ah! 
 ha! Yesterday I surprised her as she applied a kiss to 
 him, at which he made as doleful a face as if a bee had 
 stung him. To-day I hear how she is boxing his ears. 
 He is perhaps now laughing at it, and thinks it is a rose- 
 leaf which cools his cheek. That Hodge is such a queer 
 bird! But we will at once see what there is to-day, and 
 what farce is being performed now." 
 
 He crept softly up-stairs, and, opening the door of his 
 room, closed it again behind him quickly and gently. 
 
 Gammer Gurton, who was in the room adjoining, had 
 heard nothing, seen nothing; and had the heavens come 
 tumbling down at that moment, she would have scarcely 
 noticed it; for she had eyes and sense only for this long, 
 lank lackey who stood before her shaking with fear, and 
 staring at her out of his great bluish-white eyes. Her 
 whole soul lay in her tongue; and her tongue ran as fast as 
 a will-wheel, and with the force of thunder. 
 
 How, then, could Gammer Gurton well have time and 
 ears to hear her master, who had softly entered his cham- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 161 
 
 ber and slyly crept to the door, only half closed, which 
 separated his room from that of the housekeeper? 
 
 "How!" screamed Gammer Gurton, "you silly raga- 
 muffin, you wish to make me believe that it was the cat 
 that ran away with my sewing-needle, as if my sewing- 
 needle were a mouse and smelt of bacon, you stupid, blear- 
 eyed fool! " 
 
 " Ah, you call me a fool," cried Hodge, with a laugh, 
 which caused his mouth to describe a graceful line across 
 his face from ear to ear; "you call me a fool, and that 
 is a great honor for me, for then I am a servant worthy 
 of my master. And as to being blear-eyed, that must be 
 caused by the simple fact that I have nothing all day 
 long before my eyes but you, Gammer Gurton — you, with 
 your face like a full moon — you, sailing through the room 
 like a frigate, and with your grappling-irons, your hands, 
 smashing to pieces everything except your own looking- 
 glass." 
 
 " You shall pay me for that, you double-faced, thread- 
 bare lout!" screamed Gammer Gurton, as she rushed on 
 Hodge with clenched fist. 
 
 But John Heywood's cunning servant had anticipated 
 this; he had already slipped under the large table which 
 stood in the middle of the room. As the housekeeper now 
 made a plunge to drag him out of his extemporary fortress, 
 he gave her such a hearty pinch on the leg, that she sprang 
 back with a scream, and sank, wholly overcome by the pain,, 
 into the huge, leather-covered elbow-chair which was near 
 her workstand at the window. 
 
 " You are a monster, Hodge," groaned she, exhausted 
 — "a heartless, horrible monster. You have stolen my 
 sewing-needle — you only. For you knew very well that it 
 was my last one, and that, if I have not that, I must go at 
 once to the shopkeeper to buy some needles. And that is 
 just what you want, you weathercock, you. You only 
 want me to go out, that you may have an opportunity to 
 play with Tib." 
 
162 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 u 
 
 Tib? Who is Tib?" asked Hodge as he stretched 
 out his long neck from under the table, and stared at 
 Gammer Gurton with well-assumed astonishment. 
 
 " Now this otter wants me yet to tell him who Tib is! " 
 screamed the exasperated dame. " Well, then, I will tell 
 you. Tib is the cook for the major-domo over there — a 
 black-eyed, false, coquettish little devil, who is bad and 
 mean enough to troll away the lover of an honest and 
 virtuous woman, as I am; a lover who is such a pitiful 
 little thing that one would think no one but myself could 
 find him out and see him; nor could I have done it had I 
 not for forty years trained my eyes to the search, and for 
 forty years looked around for the man who was at length 
 to marry me, and make me a respectable mistress. Since 
 my eyes then were at last steadily fixed on this phantom 
 of man, and I found nothing there, I finally discovered 
 you, you cobweb of a man! " 
 
 "What! you call me a cobweb?" screamed Hodge, as 
 he crept from under the table, and, drawing himself up to 
 his full height, placed himself threateningly in front of 
 Gammer Gurton's elbow-chair. "You call me a cobweb? 
 Now, I swear to you that you shall henceforth never more 
 be the spider that dwells in that web! For you are a 
 garden-spider, an abominable, dumpy, old garden-spider, 
 for whom a web, such as Hodge is, is much too fine and 
 much too elegant. Be quiet, therefore, old spider, and 
 spin your net elsewhere! You shall not live in my net, 
 but Tib — for, yes, I do know Tib. She is a lovely, charm- 
 ing child of fourteen, as quick and nimble as a kid, with 
 lips red as the coral which you wear on your fat pudding 
 of a neck, with eyes which shine yet brighter than your 
 nose, and with a figure so slender and graceful that she 
 might have been carved out of one of your fingers. Yes, 
 yes, I know Tib. She is an affectionate, good child, who 
 would never be so hard-hearted as to abuse the man she 
 loves, and could not be so mean and pitiful, even in 
 thought, as to wish to marry the man she did not love, 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 163 
 
 just because he is a man. Yes, I know Tib, and now I 
 will go straight to her and ask her if she will marry a good, 
 honest lad, who, to be sure, is somewhat lean, but who 
 doubtless will become fatter if he has any other fare than 
 the meagre, abominable stuff on which Gammer Gurton 
 feeds him; a lad who, to be sure, is blear-eyed, but will 
 soon get over that disease when he no more sees Gammer 
 Gurton, who acts on his eyes like a stinking onion, and 
 makes them always red and running water. Good-by, old 
 onion! I am going to Tib." 
 
 But Gammer Gurton whirled up out of her elbow- 
 chair like a top, and was upon Hodge, whom she held by 
 the coat-tail, and brought him to a stand. 
 
 " You dare go to Tib again! You dare pass that door 
 and you shall see that the gentle, peaceable, and patient 
 Gammer Gurton is changed into a lioness, when any 
 one tries to tear from her that most sacred and dear- 
 est of treasures, her husband. For you are my hus- 
 band, inasmuch as I have your word that you will marry 
 me." 
 
 * But I have not told you when and where I will do it, 
 Gammer Gurton; and so you can wait to all eternity, for 
 only in heaven will I be your husband." 
 
 "That is an abominable, malicious lie!" screamed 
 Gammer Gurton. "A good-for-nothing lie, say I! For 
 did you not long ago snivel and beg till I was forced to 
 promise you to make a will, and in it declare Hodge, my 
 beloved husband, sole heir of all my goods and chattels, 
 and bequeath to him everything I have scraped together 
 in my virtuous and industrious life ? " 
 
 " But you did not make it — the will. You broke your 
 word; and, therefore, I will do the same." 
 
 "Yes, I have made it, you greyhound. I have made 
 it; and this very day I was going with you to a justice of 
 the peace and have it signed, and then to-morrow we would 
 have got married." 
 
 "You have made the will, you round world of love?" 
 
104 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 said Hodge tenderly, as with his long, withered, spindling 
 arms he tried to clasp the gigantic waist of his beloved. 
 "Yon have made the will and declared me your heir? 
 Come, then, Gammer Gurton, come, let ns go to the jus- 
 tice of the peace! " 
 
 " But do you not see, then," said Gammer Gurton, with 
 a tender, cat-like purr, " do you not see, then, that you 
 rumple my frill when you hug me so? Let me go, then, 
 and help me find my needle quickly, for without the 
 needle we cannot go to the justice of the peace/' 
 
 " What, without the needle not go to the justice of the 
 peace ? " 
 
 " No; for only see this hole which Gib, the cat, tore 
 in my prettiest cap awhile ago, as I took the cap out of the 
 box and laid it on the table. Indeed I cannot go to the 
 justice of the peace with such a hole in my cap! Search 
 then, Hodge, search, so that I can mend my cap, and go 
 with you to the justice of the peace! " 
 
 " Lord God, where in the world can it be, the unlucky 
 needle? I must have it, I must find it, so that Gammer 
 Gurton may take her will to the justice of the peace! " 
 
 And in frantic desperation, Hodge searched all about 
 on the floor for the lost needle, and Gammer Gurton stuck 
 her large spectacles on her flaming red nose and peered 
 about on the table. So eager was she in the search, that 
 she even let her tongue rest a little, and deep silence 
 reigned in the room. 
 
 Suddenly this silence was broken by a voice, which 
 seemed to come from the courtyard. It was a soft, sweet 
 voice that cried: "Hodge, dear Hodge, are you there? 
 Come to me in the court, only for a few minutes! I want 
 to have a bit of a laugh with you! " 
 
 It was as though an electric shock had passed through 
 the room with that voice, and struck at the same time both 
 Gammer Gurton and Hodge. 
 
 Both startled, and discontinuing the search, stood there 
 wholly immovable, as if petrified. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 1^5 
 
 Hodge especially, poor Hodge, was as if struck by light- 
 ning. His great bluish-white eyes appeared to be coming 
 out of their sockets; his long arms hung down, flapping 
 and dangling about like a flail; his knees, half bent,, 
 seemed already to be giving way in expectation of the 
 approaching storm. 
 
 This storm did not in fact make him wait long. 
 
 "That is Tib!" screamed Gammer Gurton, springing 
 like a lioness upon Hodge and seizing him by the shoulders 
 with both her hands. " That is Tib, you thread-like, piti- 
 ful greyhound! Well, was I not right, now, when I called 
 you a faithless, good-for-nothing scamp, that spares not in- 
 nocence, and breaks the hearts of the women as he would 
 a cracker, which he swallows at his pleasure? Was I not 
 right, in saying that you were only watching for me to go 
 out in order to go and sport with Tib? " 
 
 " Hodge, my dear, darling Hodge," cried the voice be- 
 neath there, and this time louder and more tender than 
 before, " Hodge, oh come, do now, come with me in the 
 court, as you promised me; come and get the kiss for which 
 you begged me this morning! " 
 
 " I will be a damned otter, if I begged her for it, and 
 if I understand a single word of what she says! " said 
 Hodge, wholly dumfounded and quaking all over. 
 
 "Ah, you understand not a word of what she says?" 
 screamed Gammer Gurton. "Well, but I understand it. 
 I understand that everything between us is past and done 
 with, and that I have nothing more to do with you, you 
 Moloch, you! I understand that I shall not go and make 
 my will, to become your wife and fret myself to death 
 over this skeleton of a husband, that I may leave yea 
 to chuckle as my heir. No, no, it is past. I am not 
 going to the justice of the peace, and I will tear up my 
 will!" 
 
 " Oh, she is going to tear up her will! " howled Hodge; 
 " and then I have tormented myself in vain; in vain have 
 endured the horrible luck of being loved by this old owl! 
 
166 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Oh, oh, she will not make her will, and Hodge will remain 
 the same miserable dog he always was! " 
 
 Gammer Gurton laughed scornfully. "Ah, you are 
 aware at last what a pitiable wretch you are, and how 
 much a noble and handsome person, as I am, lowered her- 
 self when she made up her mind to pick up such a weed 
 and make him her husband." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know it! " whined Hodge; " and I pray 
 you pick me up and take me, and above all things make 
 your will! " 
 
 " No, I will not take you, and I shall not make my will! 
 It is all over with, I tell you; and now you can go as soon 
 as you please to Tib, who has called you so lovingly. But 
 first give me back my sewing-needle, you magpie, you! 
 Give me here my sewing-needle, which you have stolen. 
 It is of no use to you now, for it is not necessary for me 
 to go out in order that you may go and see Tib. We have 
 nothing more to do with each other, and you can go where 
 you wish. My sewing-needle, say I — my needle, or I will 
 hang you as a scarecrow in my pea-patch, to frighten the 
 sparrows out of it. My sewing-needle, or " 
 
 She shook her clenched fist threateningly at Hodge, 
 fully convinced that now, as always before, Hodge would 
 retreat before this menacing weapon of his jealous and 
 irritable lady-love, and seek safety under the bed or the 
 table. 
 
 This time, however, she was mistaken. Hodge, who 
 saw that all was lost, felt that his patience was at length 
 exhausted; and his timidity was now changed to the mad- 
 ness of despair. The lamb was transformed into a tiger, 
 and with a tiger's rage he pounced upon Gammer Gurton, 
 and, throwing aside her fist, he dealt her a good sound 
 blow on the cheek. 
 
 The signal was given, and the battle began. It was 
 waged by both sides with equal animosity and equal vigor; 
 only Hodge's bony hand made by far the most telling 
 blows on Gammer Gurton's mass of flesh, and was always 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 167 
 
 -certain, wherever he struck, to hit some spot of this huge 
 mass; while Gammer Gurton's soft hand seldom touched 
 that thin, threadlike figure, which dexterously parried 
 every blow. 
 
 " Stop, you fools! " suddenly shouted a stentorian 
 voice. " See you not, you goblins, that your lord and 
 master is here ? Peace, peace then, you devils, and do not 
 be hammering away at one another, but love each other." 
 
 " It is the master! " exclaimed Gammer Gurton, low- 
 ering her fist in the utmost contrition. 
 
 " Do not turn me away, sir! * moaned Hodge; " do not 
 dismiss me from your service because at last I have for 
 once given the old hag a good bruising. She has deserved 
 it a long time, and an angel himself must at last lose 
 patience with her." 
 
 " I turn you out of my service! " exclaimed John Hey- 
 wood, as he wiped his eyes, wet with laughing. "No, 
 Hodge, you are a real jewel, a mine of fun and merriment; 
 and you two have, without knowing it, furnished me with 
 the choicest materials for a piece which, by the king's or- 
 der, I have to write within six days. I owe you, then, many 
 thanks, and will show my gratitude forthwith. Listen 
 well to me, my amorous and tender pair of turtle-doves, 
 and mark what I have to say to you. One cannot always 
 tell the wolf by his hide, for he sometimes put on a sheep's 
 skin; and so, too, a man cannot always be recognized by 
 his voice, for he sometimes borrows that of his neighbor. 
 Thus, for example, I know a certain John Heywood, who 
 can mimic exactly the voice of a certain little miss named 
 Tib, and wno knows how to warble as she herself: ' Hodge, 
 my dear Hodge ! ' " 
 
 And he repeated to them exactly, and with the same 
 tone and expression, the words that the voice had previous- 
 ly cried. 
 
 " Ah, it was you, sir? " cried Hodge, with a broad grin 
 — " that Tib in the court there, that Tib about whom we 
 have been pummelling each other?" 
 
168 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 "I was Tib, Hodge — I who was present during the 
 whole of your quarrel, and found it hugely comical to send 
 Tib's voice thundering into the midst of our lovers' quar- 
 rel, like a cannon-stroke! Ah, ha! Hodge, that was a 
 fine bomb-shell, was it not? And as I said ( Hodge, my 
 dear Hodge,' you tumbled about like a kernel of corn 
 which a dung-beetle blows with his breath. No, no, my 
 worthy and virtuous Gammer Gurton, it was not Tib who 
 called the handsome Hodge, and more than that, I saw 
 Tib, as your contest began, go out at the courtyard gate." 
 
 " It was not Tib! " exclaimed Gammer Gurton, much 
 moved, and happy as love could make her. " It was not 
 Tib, and she was not in the court at all, and Hodge could 
 not then go down to her, while I went to the shopkeeper's 
 to buy needles. Oh, Hodge, Hodge, will you forgive me 
 for this; will you forget the hard words which I spoke in 
 the fury of my anguish, and can you love me again? " 
 
 " I will try," said Hodge, gravely; " and without doubt 
 I shall succeed, provided you go to-day forthwith to the 
 justice, and make your will." 
 
 " I will make my will, and to-morrow we will go to 
 the priest; shall it not be so, my angel? " 
 
 "Yes, we go to the priest to-morrow!" growled 
 Hodge, as with a frightful grimace he scratched himself 
 behind the ears. 
 
 " And now come, my angel, and give me a kiss of recon- 
 ciliation! " 
 
 She spread her arms out, and when Hodge did not 
 come to her, but remained immovable, and steadfast in his 
 position, she went to Hodge and pressed him tenderly to 
 her heart. 
 
 Suddenly she uttered a shriek, and let go of Hodge. 
 She had felt a terrible pain in her breast. It seemed as 
 though a small dagger had pierced her bosom. 
 
 And there it was, the lost needle, and Hodge then was 
 innocent and pure as the early dawn. 
 
 He had not mischievously purloined the needle, so that 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. X69 
 
 Gammer Gurton would be compelled to leave her house in 
 order to fetch some new needles from the shopkeeper's; he 
 had not intended to go to Tib, for Tib was not in the 
 court, but had gone out. 
 
 " Oh Hodge, Hodge, good Hodge, you innocent dove, 
 will you forgive me ? " 
 
 * Come to the justice of the peace, Gammer Gurton, 
 and I forgive you! " 
 
 They sank tenderly into each other's arms, wholly for- 
 getful of their master, who still stood near them, and 
 looked on, laughing and nodding his head. 
 
 " Now, then, I have found the finest and most splendid 
 materials for my piece," said John Heywood, as he left the 
 loving pair and betook himself to his own room. " Gam- 
 mer Gurton has saved me, and King Henry will not have 
 the satisfaction of seeing me whipped by those most virtu- 
 ous and most lovely ladies of his court. To work, then, 
 straightway to work! " 
 
 He seated himself at his writing-desk, and seized pen 
 and paper. 
 
 "But how!" asked he, suddenly pausing. "That is 
 certainly a rich subject for a composition; but I can never 
 in the world get an interlude out of it! What shall I do 
 with it? Abandon this subject altogether, and again jeer 
 at the monks and ridicule the nuns? That is antiquated 
 and worn out! I will write something new, something 
 wholly new, and something which will make the king so 
 merry, that he will not sign a death-warrant for a whole 
 day. Yes, yes, a merry play shall it be, and then I will 
 call it boldly and fearlessly a comedy! " 
 
 He seized his pen and wrote : " Gammer Gurton' s 
 Needle, a right pithy, pleasant, and merry comedy." 
 
 And thus originated the first English comedy, by John 
 Heywood, fool to King Henry the Eighth.* 
 
 * This comedy was first printed in the year 1661, but it was repre- 
 sented at Christ College fully a hundred years previously. Who was 
 the author of it is not known with certainty ; but it is possible that 
 12 
 
170 HENRY Vin. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ULDY JANE. 
 
 All was quiet in the palace of Whitehall Even the 
 servants on guard in the vestibule of the king's bed- 
 chamber had been a long time slumbering, for the king 
 had been snoring for several hours; and this majestical 
 sound was, to the dwellers in the palace, the joyful an- 
 nouncement that for one fine night they were exempt 
 from service, and might be free men. 
 
 The queen also had long since retired to her apart- 
 ments, and dismissed her ladies at an unusually early hour.. 
 She felt, she said, wearied by the chase, and much needed 
 rest. No one, therefore, was to disturb her, unless the- 
 king should order it. 
 
 But the king, as we have said, slept, and the queen 
 had no reason to fear that her night's rest would be dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 Deep silence reigned in the palace. The corridors 
 were empty and deserted, the apartments all silent. 
 
 Suddenly a figure tripped along softly and cautiously- 
 through the long feebly lighted corridor. She was- 
 wrapped in a black mantle; a veil concealed her face. 
 
 Scarcely touching the floor with her feet, she floated' 
 away, and glided down a little staircase. Now she stops- 
 and listens. There is nothing to hear; all is noiseless and 
 still. 
 
 Then, on again. Now she wings her steps. For here 
 she is sure of not being heard. It is the unoccupied wing 
 of the castle of Whitehall. Nobody watches her here. 
 
 On, then, on, adown that corridor, descending those 
 stairs. There she stops before a door leading into the- 
 
 the writer of it was John Heywood, the epigrammatist and court- 
 jester. — See Dramaturgic oder Theorie und Geschichte der dramati- 
 schen Kunst, von Theodore Mundt, vol. i, p. 309. Flogel's Geschichte* 
 der Hofnarren, p. 399. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 17J 
 
 summer-house. She puts her ear to the door, and listens. 
 Then she claps her hands three times. 
 
 The sound is reechoed from the other side. 
 
 " Oh, he is there, he is there! * Forgotten now are 
 her cares, forgotten her pains and tears. He is there. 
 She has him again. 
 
 She throws open the door. It is dark indeed in the 
 chamber, but she sees him, for the eye of love pierces the 
 night; and if she sees him not, yet she feels his presence. 
 
 She rests on his heart; he presses her closely to his 
 breast. Leaning on each other, they grope cautiously 
 along through the dark, desolate chamber to the divan 
 at the upper end, and there, both locked in a happy em- 
 brace, they sink upon the cushion. 
 
 " At last I have you again! and my arms again clasp 
 this divine form, and again my lips press this crimson 
 mouth! Oh, my beloved, what an eternity has this sepa- 
 ration been! Six days! Six long nights of agony! Have 
 you not felt how my soul cried out for you, and was filled 
 with trepidation; how I stretched my arms out into the 
 night, and let them fall again disconsolate and trembling 
 with anguish, because they clasped nothing — naught but 
 the cold, vacant night breeze! Did you not hear, my be- 
 loved, how I cried to you with sighs and tears, how in 
 glowing dithyrambics I poured forth to you my longing, 
 my love, my rapture? But you, cruel you, remained ever 
 cold, ever smiling. Your eyes were ever flashing in all the 
 pride and grandeur of a Juno. The roses on your cheeks 
 were not one whit the paler. No, no, you have not longed 
 for me; your heart has not felt this painful, blissful an- 
 guish. You are first and above all things the proud, cold 
 queen, and next, next the loving woman." 
 
 "How unjust and hard you are, my Henry!" whis- 
 pered she softly. "I have indeed suffered; and perhaps 
 my pains have been more cruel and bitter than yours, for I 
 — I had to let them consume me within. You could pour 
 them forth, you could stretch out your arms after me, you 
 
172 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 could utter lamentations and sighs. You were not, like 
 me, condemned to laugh, and to jest, and to listen with 
 apparently attentive ear to all those often heard and con- 
 stantly repeated phrases of praise and adoration from those 
 about me. You were at least free to suffer. I was not. It 
 is true I smiled, but amidst the pains of death. It is true 
 my cheeks did not blanch, but rouge was the veil with 
 which I covered their paleness; and then, Henry, in the 
 midst of my pains and longings, I had, too, a sweet con- 
 solation — your letters, your poems, which fell like the dew 
 of heaven upon my sick soul, and restored it to health, 
 for new torments and new hopes. Oh, how I love them — 
 those poems, in whose noble and enchanting language your 
 love and our sufferings are reechoed! How my whole soul 
 ilew forth to meet them when I received them, and how 
 pressed I my lips thousands and thousands of times on the 
 paper which seemed to me redolent with your breath and 
 jour sighs! How I love that good, faithful Jane, the si- 
 lent messenger of our love! When I behold her entering 
 my chamber, with the unsullied paper in hand, she is to 
 me the dove with the olive-leaf, that brings me peace and 
 happiness, and I rush to her, and press her to my bosom; 
 and give her all the kisses I would give you, and feel how 
 poor and powerless I am, because I cannot repay her all 
 the happiness that she brings me. Ah, Henry, how many 
 thanks do we owe to poor Jane ! " 
 
 " Why do you call her poor, when she can be near you, 
 always behold you, always hear you? " 
 
 " I call her poor, because she is unhappy. For she 
 loves, Henry — she loves to desperation, to madness, and 
 she is not loved. She is pining away with grief and pain, 
 and wrings her hands in boundless woe. Have you not 
 noticed how pale she is, and how her eyes become daily 
 more dim? " 
 
 " No, I have not seen it, for I see naught but you, and 
 Xiady Jane is to me a lifeless image, as are all other women. 
 But what! You tremble; and your whole frame writhes 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 173 
 
 in my arms, as if in a convulsion! And what is that? 
 Are you weeping? " 
 
 " Oh, I weep, because I am so happy. I weep, because 
 I was thinking how fearful the suffering must be, to give 
 the whole heart away, and receive nothing in return, 
 naught but death! Poor Jane! " 
 
 " What is she to us? We, we love each other. Come, 
 dear one, let me kiss the tears from your eyes; let me 
 drink this nectar, that it may inspire me, and transfigure 
 me to a god! Weep no more — no, weep not; or, if you will 
 do so, be it only in the excess of rapture, and because word 
 and heart are too poor to hold all this bliss! " 
 
 " Yes, yes, let us shout for joy; let us be lost in blessed- 
 ness! " exclaimed she passionately, as with frantic violence 
 she threw herself on his bosom. 
 
 Both were now silent, mutely resting on each other's 
 heart. 
 
 Oh, how sweet this silence; how entrancing this 
 noiseless, sacred night! How the trees without there 
 murmur and rustle, as if they were singing a heavenly lull- 
 aby to the lovers! how inquisitively the pale crescent 
 moon peeps through the window, as though she were seek- 
 ing the twain whose blessed confidante she is! 
 
 But happiness is so swift-winged, and time flies so fast, 
 when love is their companion! 
 
 Even now they must part again — now they must again 
 say farewell. 
 
 "Not yet, beloved, stay yet! See, the night is still 
 dark; and hark, the castle clock is just striking two. No, 
 go not yet." 
 
 " I must, Henry, I must; the hours are past in which 
 I can be happy." 
 
 " Oh, you cold, proud soul! Does the head already 
 long again for the crown; and can you wait no longer for 
 the purple to again cover your shoulders? Come, let me 
 kiss your shoulder; and think now, dear, that my crimson 
 lips are also a purple robe." 
 
174 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 " And a purple robe for which I would gladly give my 
 crown and my life ! " cried she, with the utmost enthu- 
 siasm, as she folded him in her arms. 
 
 " Do you love me, then? Do you really love me? " 
 
 « Yes, I love you! ». 
 
 " Can you swear to me that you love no one except 
 me?" 
 
 " I can swear it, as true as there is a God above us, who 
 hears my oath." 
 
 "Bless you for it, you dear, you only one — oh, how 
 shall I call you? — you whose name I may not utter! Oh, 
 do you know that it is cruel never to name the name of the 
 loved one? Withdraw that prohibition; grudge me not 
 the painfully sweet pleasure of being able at least to call 
 you by your name ! " 
 
 "No," said she, with a shudder; "for know you not 
 that the sleep-walkers awake out of their dreams when 
 they are called by name? I am a somnambulist, who, with 
 smiling courage, moves along a dizzy height; call me by 
 name, and I shall awake, and, shuddering, plunge into the 
 abyss beneath. Ah, Henry, I hate my name, for it is pro- 
 nounced by other lips than yours. For you I will not be 
 named as other men call me. Baptize me, my Henry; give 
 me another name — a name which is our secret, and which 
 no one knows besides us." 
 
 " I name you Geraldine; and as Geraldine I will praise 
 and laud you before all the world. I will, in spite of all 
 these spies and listeners, repeat again and again that I 
 love you, and no one, not the king himself, shall be able 
 to forbid me." 
 
 " Hush! " said she, with a shudder, " speak not of him! 
 Oh, I conjure you, my Henry, be cautious; think that you 
 have sworn to me ever to think of the danger that threat- 
 ens us, and will, without doubt, dash us in pieces if you, 
 by only a sound, a look, or a smile, betray the sweet secret 
 that unites us two. Are you still aware what you have 
 sworn to me?" 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 175 
 
 "I am aware of it! But it is an unnatural Draconian 
 law. What! even when I am alone with you, shall I never 
 be allowed to address you otherwise than with that rever- 
 ence and restrain which is due the queen? Even when no 
 one can hear us, may I, by no syllable, by none, not the 
 slightest intimation, remind you of our love ? " 
 
 " No, no, do it not; for this castle has everywhere eyes 
 and ears, and everywhere are spies and listeners behind 
 the tapestry; behind the curtains; everywhere are they 
 concealed and lurking, watching every feature, every smile, 
 every word, whether it may not afford ground for sus- 
 picion. No, no, Henry; swear to me by our love that you 
 will never, unless here in this room, address me other- 
 wise than your queen. Swear to me that, beyond these 
 walls, you will be to me only the respectful servant of your 
 queen, and at the same time the proud earl and lord, of 
 whom it is said that never has a woman been able to touch 
 his heart. Swear to me that you will not, by a look, by a 
 smile, by even the gentlest pressure of the hand, betray 
 what beyond this room is a crime for both of us. Let this 
 room be the temple of our love; but when we once pass 
 its threshold, we will not profane the sweet mysteries of 
 our happiness, by allowing unholy eyes to behold even a 
 single ray of it. Shall it be so, my Henry? " 
 
 "Yes, it shall be so!" said he, with a troubled voice; 
 u although I must confess that this dreadful illusion often 
 tortures me almost to death. Oh, Geraldine, when I meet 
 you elsewhere, when I observe the eye so icy and immova- 
 ble, with which you meet my look, I feel as it were my 
 heart convulsed; and I say to myself: ( This is not she, 
 whom I love — not the tender, passionate woman, whom in 
 the darkness of the night I sometimes lock in my arms. 
 This is Catharine, the queen, but not my loved one. A 
 woman cannot so disguise herself; art goes not so far as 
 to falsify the entire nature, the innermost being and life 
 of a person.' Oh, theie have been hours, awful, horrible 
 hours, when it seemed to me as though all this were a 
 
176 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 delusion, a mystification — as though in some way an evil 
 demon assumed the queen's form by night to mock me, 
 poor frenzied visionary, with a happiness that has no exist- 
 ence, but lives only in my imagination. When such 
 thoughts come to me, I feel a frenzied fury, a crushing de- 
 spair, and I could, regardless of my oath and even the 
 danger that threatens you, rush to you, and, before all the 
 courtly rabble and the king himself, ask: i Are you really 
 what you seem? Are you, Catharine Parr, King Henry's 
 wife — nothing more, nothing else than that? Or are you, 
 my beloved, the woman who is mine in her every thought, 
 her every breath; who has vowed to me eternal love and 
 unchanging truth; and whom I, in spite of the whole 
 world, and the king, press to my heart as my own? ' " 
 
 " Unhappy man, if you ever venture that, you doom us 
 both to death! " 
 
 "Be it so, then! In death you will at least be mine, 
 and no one would longer dare separate us, and your eyes 
 would no longer look so cold and strangely upon me, as 
 they often now do. Oh, I conjure you, gaze not upon me 
 at all, if you cannot do it otherwise than with those cold, 
 proud looks, that benumb my heart. Turn away your 
 eyes, and speak to me with averted face." 
 
 " Then, men will say that I hate you, Henry." 
 
 " It is more agreeable to me for them to say you abhor 
 me than for them to see that I am wholly indifferent to 
 you; that I am to you nothing more than the Earl of Sur- 
 rey, your lord chamberlain." 
 
 " No, no, Henry. They shall see that you are more to 
 me than merely that. Before the whole assembled court 
 I will give you a token of my love. Will you then believe, 
 you dear, foolish enthusiast, that I love you, and that it 
 is no demon that rests here in your arms and swears that 
 she loves nothing but you? Say, will you then believe 
 me?" 
 
 "I will believe you! But no, there is no need of any 
 sign, or any assurance. Nay, I know it; I feel indeed the 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 177 
 
 sweet reality that cuddles to my side, warm, and filling 
 me with happiness; and it is only the excess of happiness 
 that makes me incredulous." 
 
 " I will convince you thoroughly; and you shall doubt 
 no more, not even in the intoxication of happiness. Lis- 
 ten, then. The king, as you know, is about to hold a great 
 tournament and festival of the poets, and it will take place 
 in a few days. Now, then, at this fete I will publicly, in 
 the presence of the king and his court, give you a rosette 
 that I wear on my shoulder, and in the silver fringe of 
 which you will find a note from me. Will that satisfy you,, 
 my Henry? " 
 
 " And do you still question it, my dear? Do you ques- 
 tion it, when you will make me proud and happy above 
 all others of your court? n 
 
 He pressed her closely to his heart and kissed her. But 
 suddenly she writhed in his arms, and started up in wild 
 alarm. 
 
 "Day is breaking, day is breaking! See there! a red 
 streak is spreading over the clouds. The sun is coming; 
 day is coming, and already begins to dawn." 
 
 He endeavored to detain her still; but she tore herself 
 passionately away, and again enveloped her head in her 
 veil. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " day is breaking and it is growing 
 light! Let me then, for a moment at least, see your face. 
 My soul thirsts for it as the parched earth for the dew. 
 Come, it is light here at the window. Let me see your 
 eyes." 
 
 She tore herself vehemently away. "No, no, you 
 must begone! Hark, it is already three o'clock. Soon 
 everything will be astir in the castle. Did it not seem as 
 if some person passed by the door here? Haste, haste, if 
 you do not wish me to die of dread! " She threw his cloak 
 over him; she drew his hat over his brow; then once more 
 she threw her arms around his neck and pressed on his lips 
 •a burning kiss. 
 
178 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 "Farewell, my beloved! farewell, Henry Howard! 
 When we see each other again to-day, you are the Earl 
 of Surrey, and I, the queen — not your loved one — not the 
 woman who loves you! Happiness is past, and suffering 
 awakes anew. Farewell." 
 
 She herself opened the glass door, and pushed her 
 lover out. 
 
 "Farewell, Geraldine; good-night, my dear! Day 
 comes, and I again greet you as my queen, and I shall have 
 to endure again the torture of your cold looks and your 
 haughty smiles." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Loyola's general. 
 
 She rushed to the window and gazed after him till he 
 had disappeared, then she uttered a deep cry of anguish, 
 and, wholly overcome by her agony, she sank down on her 
 knees weeping and wailing, wringing her hands, and rais- 
 ing them to God. 
 
 But just before so happy and joyful, she was now full 
 of woe and anguish; and bitter sighs of complaint came 
 trembling from her lips. 
 
 " Oh, oh," moaned she, with sobs; " what terrible 
 agonies are these, and how full of despair the anguish that 
 lacerates my breast! I have lain in his arms; I have re- 
 ceived his vows of love and accepted his kisses; and these 
 vows are not mine, and these kisses he gave not to me. 
 He kissed me, and he loves in me only her whom I hate. 
 He lays his hands in mine and utters vows of love which he 
 dedicates to her. He thinks and feels for her only — her 
 alone. What a terrible torture this is! To be loved 
 under her name; under her name to receive the vows of 
 love that yet belong to me only — to me alone ! For he 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 179 
 
 loves me, me exclusively. They are my lips that he kisses, 
 my form that he embraces; to me are addressed his words 
 and his letters; and it is I that reply to them. He loves 
 me, me only, and yet he puts no faith in me. I am noth- 
 ing to him, naught but a lifeless image, like other women. 
 This he has told me; and I did not become frenzied; and 
 I had the cruel energy to pass off the tears wrung from 
 me by despair, for tears of rapture. Oh, detestable, hor- 
 rible mockery of fate — to be what I am not, and not to be 
 what I am!" 
 
 And with a shrill cry of agony she tore her hair, and 
 with her fist smote upon her breast, and wept and moaned 
 aloud. 
 
 She heard naught; she saw naught; she felt naught 
 but her inexpressible and despairing anguish. 
 
 She did not once tremble for herself; she thought not 
 at all of this — that she would be lost if she were found in 
 this place. 
 
 And yet at the other side of the room a door had 
 opened, softly and noiselessly, and a man had entered. 
 
 He shut the door behind him and walked up to Lady 
 Jane, who still lay on the floor. He stood behind her while 
 she uttered her despairing lamentation. He heard every 
 word of her quivering lips; her whole heart painfully con- 
 vulsed and torn with grief lay unveiled before him; and 
 she knew it not. 
 
 Now he bent over her; and with his hand he lightly 
 touched her shoulder. At this touch she gave a convul- 
 sive start, as if hit by the stroke of a sword, and her sob- 
 bing was immediately silenced. 
 
 An awful pause ensued. The woman lay on the floor 
 motionless, breathless, and near her, tall and cold as a fig- 
 ure of bronze, stood the man. 
 
 " Lady Jane Douglas," said he then, sternly and sol- 
 emnly, " stand up. It becomes not your father's daughter 
 to be upon her knees, when it is not God to whom she 
 kneels. But you are not kneeling to God, but to an idol, 
 
180 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 which you yourself have made, and to which you have 
 erected a temple in your heart. This idol is called ' Your 
 own personal misfortune.' But it is written, ' Thou shalt 
 have no other Gods but me.' Therefore I say to you once 
 more, Lady Jane Douglas, rise from your knees, for it is 
 not your God to whom you kneel." 
 
 And as though these words exercised a magnetic power 
 over her, she raised herself up slowly from the floor, and 
 now stood there before her father, stern and cold as a 
 statue of marble. 
 
 " Cast from you the sorrows of this world, which bur- 
 den you, and hinder you in the sacred work which God has 
 imposed on you! " continued Earl Douglas in his metallic, 
 solemn voice. " It is written, ' Come unto Me, all ye that 
 labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest/ saith 
 our God. But you, Jane, you are to throw down your 
 trouble at the foot of the throne; and your burden will 
 become a crown that will glorify your head." 
 
 He laid his hand on her head, but she wildly shook it 
 off. 
 
 " No/' cried she, with heavy, faltering tongue, as if 
 confused in a dream. " Away with this crown! I wish 
 no crown upon which devils have laid a spell. I wish no 
 royal robe that has been dyed crimson with the blood of 
 my beloved." 
 
 " She is still in the delirium of her anguish," muttered 
 the earl, as he contemplated the pale, trembling woman 
 who had now sunk again to her knees, and was staring 
 straight before her with eyes bewildered and stretched 
 wide open. But the looks of the earl remained cold and 
 unmoved, and not the least compassion was aroused in him 
 for his poor daughter, now penetrated with anguish. 
 
 "Arise," said he, in a hard, steelly voice. "The 
 Church, by my mouth, commands you to serve her as you 
 have vowed to do; that is to say, with glad heart and a 
 sense of your reliance on God; that is to say, with smiling 
 lips and a serene, beaming eye, as becomes a disciple in- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. Igj 
 
 spired by faith, and as you have sworn to do in the hands 
 of our lord and master, Ignatius Loyola." 
 
 "I cannot! I cannot!" moaned she, in a low tone. 
 " I cannot be glad at heart when despair, like a wild boar, 
 is rending my heart; I cannot command my eye to shine 
 when my eyes are dimmed with tears of anguish. Oh, have 
 pity, have compassion! Kemember that you are my fa- 
 ther; that I am your daughter — the daughter of a wife 
 whom you loved, and who would find in the grave no rest 
 if she knew how you are racking and torturing me. My 
 mother, my mother, if thy spirit is near me, come and 
 protect me. Let thy mild looks overshadow my head, and 
 breathe a breath of thy love into the heart of this cruel 
 father, who is ready to sacrifice his child on the altar of 
 his God." 
 
 " God has called me," said the earl, " and, like Abra- 
 ham, I too will learn to obey. But I will not adorn my 
 victim with flowers, but with a royal crown. I will not 
 plunge a knife into her breast, but will put a golden scep- 
 tre into her hand and say: Thou art a queen before men, 
 but before God be thou a faithful and obedient servant. 
 Thou hast all to command. But the holy Church, to 
 whose service thou hast consecrated thyself, and who will 
 bless thee if thou art faithful, who will dash thee in pieces 
 with her curse if thou darest deal treacherously, she com- 
 mands thee. No, you are not my daughter, but the priest- 
 ess of the Church, consecrated to her holy service. No, I 
 have no sympathy with your tears and this anguish, for I 
 see the end of these sorrows, and I know that these tears 
 will be as a diadem of pearls about your temples. Lady 
 Jane Douglas, it is the saintly Loyola who sends you his 
 commands by my mouth. Obey them, not because I am 
 your father, but because I am the general to whom you 
 have sworn obedience and fidelity unto your life's end." 
 
 " Then kill me, my father! " said she, feebly. " Let 
 this life end, which is but a torture, a protracted martyr- 
 dom. Punish me for my disobedience by plunging your 
 
182 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 dagger deep into my breast. Punish me, and grudge me 
 not the repose of the grave." 
 
 u Poor enthusiast! " said the father; u suppose you, we 
 would be foolish enough to subject you to so light a punish- 
 ment! No, no, if you dare, in insolent disobedience, rebel 
 against my commands, your penance shall be a terrible 
 one, and your punishment without end. I will not kill 
 you, but him whom you love; it will be his head that falls; 
 and you will be his murderess. He shall die on the scaffold 
 and you — you shall live in disgrace." 
 
 " Oh, horrible ! " groaned Jane, as she buried her face 
 in her hands. 
 
 Her father continued: * Silly, short-sighted child, who 
 thought she could play with the sword, and did not see 
 that she herself might feel the stroke of this double-edged 
 blade! You wanted to be the servant of the Church, that 
 you might thereby become mistress of the world. You 
 would acquire glory, but this glory must not singe your 
 head with its fiery rays. Silly child! he who plays with 
 fire will be consumed. But we penetrated your thoughts 
 and the wish of which you yourself were unconscious. We 
 looked into the depths of your being, and when we found 
 love there, we made use of love for our own purposes and 
 your salvation. What do you bewail, then, and why do 
 you weep? Have we not allowed you to love? Have we 
 not authorized you to give yourself entirely up to this 
 love? Do you not call yourself Earl Surrey's wife, though 
 you cannot name to me the priest that married you? Lady 
 Jane, obey, and we envy you not the happiness of your 
 love; dare to rebel against us, and disgrace and shame 
 overtake you, and you shall stand before all the world dis- 
 owned and scoffed at; you the strumpet, that " 
 
 " Stop, my father! " cried Jane, as she sprang vehe- 
 mently from the floor. " Desist from your terrible words 
 if you do not wish me to die of shame. Nay, I submit, 
 I obey! You are right, I cannot draw back." 
 
 u And why would you either? Is it not a life pleasant 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 183 
 
 and full of enjoyment? Is it not rare good fortune to see 
 our sins transfigured to virtue; to be able to account earth- 
 ly enjoyment the service of Heaven? And what do you be- 
 wail then? That he does not love you? Nay, he does 
 love you; his vows of love still echo in your ears; your 
 heart still trembles with the fruition of happiness. What 
 matters it if the Earl of Surrey with his inward eyes sees 
 the woman he folds in his arms to be another than you? 
 Yet in reality he loves but you alone. Whether you are 
 for him named Catharine Parr or Jane Douglas, it is all the 
 same if you only are his love." 
 
 " But a day will come when he will discover his mis- 
 take, and when he will curse me." 
 
 " That day will never come. The holy Church will 
 find a way to avert that, if you bow to her will and are obe- 
 dient to her.''' 
 
 "I do bow to it!" sighed Jane. "I will obey; only 
 promise me, my father, that no harm shall happen to Mm; 
 that I shall not be his murderess." 
 
 " No, you shall become his savior and deliverer. Only 
 you must fulfil punctually the work I commit to you. 
 First of all, then, tell me the result of your meeting to-day. 
 He does not doubt that you are the queen? " 
 
 " No, he believes it so firmly that he would take the 
 sacrament on it. That is to say, he believes it now be- 
 cause I have promised him to give him publicly a sign by 
 which he may recognize that it is the queen that loves 
 him." 
 
 " And this sign? " inquired her father, with a look 
 "beaming with joy. 
 
 " I have promised him that at the great tournament, 
 the queen will give him a rosette, and that in that rosette 
 he will find a note from the queen." 
 
 " Ah, the idea is an admirable one ! " exclaimed Lord 
 Douglas, " and only a woman who wishes to avenge herself 
 could conceive it. So, then, the queen will become her 
 own accuser, and herself give into our hands a proof of her 
 
184 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 guilt. The only difficulty in the way is to bring the 
 queen, without arousing her suspicion, to wear this rosette, 
 and to give it to Surrey." 
 
 " She will do it if I beg her to do so, for she loves me; 
 and I shall so represent it to her that she will do it as an 
 act of kindness to me. Catharine is good-natured and 
 agreeable, and cannot refuse a request." 
 
 " And I will apprise the king of it. That is to say, I 
 shall take good care not to do this myself, for it is always 
 dangerous to approach a hungry tiger in his cage and carry 
 him his food, because he might in his voracity very readily 
 devour our own hand together with the proffered meat." 
 
 "But how?" asked she with an expression of alarm. 
 " Will he content himself with punishing Catharine alone; 
 will he not also crush him — him whom he must look upon 
 as her lover? " 
 
 " He will do so. But you yourself shall save him and 
 set him free. You shall open his prison and give him 
 freedom, and he will love you — you, the savior of his life." 
 
 " Father, father, it is a hazardous game that you are 
 playing; and it may happen that you will become thereby 
 your daughter's murderer. For, listen well to what I tell 
 you; if his head falls, I die by my own hands; if you make 
 me his murderess, you become thereby mine; and I will 
 curse you and execrate you in hell! What to me is a 
 royal crown if it is stained with Henry Howard's blood? 
 What care I for renown and honor, if he is not there to see 
 my greatness, and if his beaming eyes do not reflect back 
 to me the light of my crown? Protect him, therefore; 
 guard his life as the apple of your eye, if you wish me to 
 accept the royal crown that you offer me, so that the 
 King of England may become again a vassal of the 
 Church!" 
 
 " And that the whole of devout Christendom may 
 praise Jane Douglas, the pious queen who has succeeded 
 in the holy work of bringing the rebellious and recreant 
 son of the Church, Henry the Eighth, back to the Holy 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 185 
 
 Father in Rome, to the only consecrated lord of the 
 Church, truly penitent. On, on, my daughter; do not 
 despond. A high aim beckons you, and a brilliant fortune 
 awaits you! Our holy mother, the Church, will bless and 
 praise you, and Henry the Eighth will declare you his 
 queen." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE PKISONEB. 
 
 Still all was calm and quiet in the palace of White- 
 hall. Nothing was stirring, and nobody had heard how 
 Lady Jane Douglas left her chamber and glided down the 
 corridor. 
 
 No one has heard it, and no eye is awake, and none 
 sees what is now taking place in the queen's room. 
 
 She is alone — all alone. The servants are all asleep' 
 in their chambers. The queen herself has bolted the 
 doors of the anteroom on the inside, and no other door 
 leads into her boudoir and bedroom, except through this 
 anteroom. She is therefore perfectly secluded, perfectly 
 secure. 
 
 Speedily and in haste she envelops herself in a long 
 black mantle, the hood of which she draws well over her 
 head and brow, and which completely covers and conceals 
 her form. 
 
 And now she presses on a spring inserted in the frame 
 of a picture. The picture flies back and shows an opening, 
 through which a person can quite conveniently pass out. 
 
 Catharine does so. Then she carefully pushes the 
 picture back to its place from the outside, and for a long 
 time walks on in the passage hollowed out of the solid 
 wall, till groping along she at last lays hold again of a 
 knob in the wall. She presses on it; and now at her feet 
 13 
 
186 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 opens a trap-door, through, which a feeble light forces its 
 way and renders visible a small narrow staircase there 
 situated. Catharine enters and descends the steps with 
 winged feet. Now at the foot of the staircase she again 
 presses on a secret spring; and again a door opens, through 
 which the queen passes into a large hall. 
 
 " Oh/' whispered she, fetching a long breath, " the 
 green summer house at last." 
 
 She quickly traversed it and opened the next door. 
 
 "John Hey wood?" 
 
 " I am here, queen! " 
 
 "Hush, hush! gently as possible, that the watch, who 
 walks up and down just behind the door, may not hear us. 
 Come, we still have a long walk — let us make haste." 
 
 Again she pressed on a spring inserted in the wall; 
 and again a door opens. But before Catharine bolts this 
 door, she takes the lamp burning on the table there, which 
 is to lighten the dark and difficult path through which 
 they are now to wend their way. 
 
 Now she bolts the door behind them; and they enter a 
 long, dark corridor, at the end of which is found still an- 
 other staircase, and down which they both go. Number- 
 less steps conduct them below; gradually the air becomes 
 dense, the steps moist. The stillness of the grave is 
 around them. No sound of life, not the least noise, is now 
 perceptible. 
 
 They are in a subterranean passage, which stretches 
 out in length before them farther than the eye can reach. 
 
 Catharine turns to John Heywood; the lamp lights up 
 her face, which is pale, but exhibits an expression firm and 
 resolute. 
 
 " John Heywood, reflect once more! I ask not whether 
 you have courage, for I know that. I only wish to know 
 whether you will employ this courage for your queen? " 
 
 " No, not for the queen, but for the noble woman who 
 has saved my son." 
 
 "You must then be my protector to-day if we meet 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 1QT 
 
 \»ith dangers. But if it be God's will, we shall encounter 
 no dangers. Let us go." 
 
 They go vigorously forward, silent all the way. 
 
 At length they come to a place where the passage 
 grows broader, and spreads out into a little open chamber, 
 on the side walls of which a few seats are placed. 
 
 " We have now accomplished half of the journey," said 
 Catharine; " and here we will rest a little." 
 
 She placed the lamp on the small marble table in the 
 middle of the passage, and sat down, pointing to John 
 Heywood to take a seat near her. 
 
 "I am not the queen, here," said she; "and you are 
 not the king's fool; but I am a poor weak woman, and you 
 are my protector. You may, therefore, well have the 
 right to sit by me." 
 
 But John shook his head with a smile, and sat down at 
 her feet. " St. Catharine, savior of my son, I lie at thy 
 feet, and devoutly return thanks to thee." 
 
 " John, are you acquainted with this subterranean pas- 
 sage ? " asked the queen. 
 
 John gave a sad smile. "I am acquainted with it, 
 queen." 
 
 * Ah, you know it? I supposed it was a secret of the 
 king and queen." 
 
 " Then you will readily conceive that the fool knows it. 
 For the King of England and the fool are twin brothers. 
 Yes, queen, I know this passage; and I once wended it in 
 anguish and tears." 
 
 "What! You yourself, John Heywood?" 
 
 "Yes, queen. And now I ask you, do you know the 
 history of this underground passage? You are silent. 
 Now, well for you that you do not know it. It is a long 
 and bloody history, and if I should narrate to you the 
 whole of it, the night would be too short for it. When 
 'chis passage was built, Henry was still young, and possessed 
 /ret a heart. At that time, he loved not merely his wives, 
 out his friends and servants also — specially Cromwell, the 
 
188 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 all-powerful minister. He then resided at Whitehall, and 
 Henry in the royal apartments of the Tower. But Henry 
 was always longing for his favorite; and so Cromwell one 
 day surprised him with this subterranean passage, the con- 
 struction of which had occupied a hundred men a whole 
 year. Ah, ah, the king was then very much moved, and 
 thanked his powerful minister for this surprise with tears 
 and hugs. There passed scarcely a day that Henry did 
 not go to Cromwell through this passage. So he saw each 
 day how the palace of Whitehall became more and more 
 splendid and glorious; and when he returned to the 
 Tower, he discovered that this residence was altogether 
 unworthy of a king; but that his minister lived by far 
 more magnificently than the King of England. That, 
 queen, was the cause of Cromwell's fall! The king 
 wanted Whitehall. The sly Cromwell noticed it, and 
 made him a present of his gem, the palace on whose con- 
 struction and decoration he had labored ten years. Henry 
 accepted the present; but now Cromwell's fall was irrev- 
 ocable. The king could not, of course, forgive Cromwell 
 for having dared to offer him a present so valuable, that 
 Henry could not or would not repay it. He remained, 
 therefore, Cromwell's debtor; and since this tormented 
 and vexed him, he swore Cromwell's ruin. When Henry 
 moved into Whitehall, it was concluded that Cromwell 
 must ascend the scaffold. Ah, the king is such an econom- 
 ical builder! A palace costs him nothing but the head 
 of a subject. With Cromwell's head he paid for White- 
 hall; and Wolsey died for Hampton Court." 
 
 " Not on the scaffold, though, John." 
 
 " Oh, no; Henry preferred merely to break his heart, 
 and not his head. First, he had that wonderful pleasure- 
 villa, Hampton Court, with all its treasures, presented him 
 by Wolsey; then he removed him from all his offices, and 
 deprived him of all his honors. Finally, he was to go to 
 the Tower as a prisoner; but he died on his way thither. 
 No, you are right! Wolsey did not die on the scaffold, he 
 
"Anne, awake ; I am here ! I will save you 1" 
 
Crom 
 
 s 
 
 tely a du; 
 
 ie more 
 glorious; and when he returned 
 overed that this residence i 
 i king; but that his minister live 
 . nificently than the King of Englan< 
 ,3 the cause of Croniweirs fall! The 
 Whitehall. The sly Cromwell noticed it, and 
 a present of his gem, th 
 at ion he had lab 
 
 3iA&VcoWl^ ffl 
 rod to offer hi 
 
 not or v. 
 
 e swore ( 
 Whitehall 
 
 tchaneco 
 ling but the 
 h Crom >\& he paid for V 
 
 lied for 1 
 •iTold, though, John." 
 
 red merely to break his 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 189 
 
 was put to death much more slowly and more cruelly. He 
 was not killed with the sword, but pricked to death with 
 pins! " 
 
 " Did you not say, John, that you had travelled this 
 way once before?" 
 
 " Yes, queen, and I did it to bid farewell to the noblest 
 of men, and the truest of friends, Thomas More ! I begged 
 and besought Cromwell so long that he had compassion on 
 my anguish, and allowed me to go through this passage to 
 Thomas More, that I might at least receive the blessing 
 and last kiss of affection of this saint. Ah, queen, speak 
 no more of it to me! From that day I became a fool; for 
 I saw it was not worth the trouble to be an honest man, 
 when such men as More are executed as criminals. Come, 
 queen, let us go on! " 
 
 " Yes, on, John! " said she, rising. " But do you 
 know then whither we are going? " 
 
 "Ah, queen, do I not then know you? and did I not 
 tell you that Anne Askew is to be stretched upon the rack 
 to-morrow, unless she recant?" 
 
 " I see that you have understood me," said she, giv- 
 ing him a friendly nod. "Yes, I am going to Anne 
 Askew." 
 
 " But how will you, without being seen and discovered, 
 find out her cell?" 
 
 "John, even the unhappy have friends. Yes, the 
 queen herself has a few; and so chance, or it may be even 
 God's will, has so arranged matters, that Anne Askew is 
 occupying, just at this time, that small room in which the 
 secret passage terminates." 
 
 " Is she alone in that room? " 
 
 " Yes, all alone. The guard stands without before the 
 door." 
 
 " And should they hear you, and open the door? " 
 
 " Then without doubt I am lost, unless God supports 
 me." 
 
 They walked on in silence, both too much occupied 
 
190 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 with their own thoughts to interrupt them by conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 But this long, extended walk at length wearied Cath- 
 arine. She leaned exhausted against the wall. 
 
 "Will you do me a favor, queen?" asked John Hey- 
 wood. " Permit me to carry you. Your little feet can 
 bear you no farther; make me your feet, your majesty! " 
 
 She refused with a friendly smile. " No, John, these 
 are the passion-stations of a saint; and you know one must 
 make the round of them in the sweat of his face, and on 
 his knees." 
 
 " Oh, queen, how noble and how courageous you are ! " 
 exclaimed John Heywood. " You do good without dis- 
 play, and you shun no danger, if it avails toward the ac- 
 complishment of noble work." 
 
 "Yet, John," said she, with a bewitching smile, "I 
 dread danger; and just on that account I begged you to 
 accompany me. I shudder at the long, desolate way, at 
 the darkness and grave-like stillness of this passage. Ah, 
 John, I thought to myself, if I came here alone, the shades 
 of Anne Boleyn and Catharine would be roused from their 
 sleep by me who wear their crown; they would hover 
 about me, and seize me by the hand and lead me to their 
 graves, to show me that there is yet room there for me 
 likewise. You see, then, that I am not at all courageous, 
 but a cowardly and trembling woman." 
 
 " And nevertheless, you came, queen." 
 
 " I reckoned on you, John Heywood. It was my duty 
 to risk this passage, to save, perchance, the life of the poor 
 enthusiastic girl. For it shall not be said that Catharine 
 deserts her friends in misfortune, and that she shrinks 
 back at danger. I am but a poor, weak woman, John, who 
 cannot defend her friends with weapons, and, therefore, I 
 must resort to other means. But see, John, here the path 
 forks! Ah, my God! I know it only from the description 
 that was given me, but no one said anything of this to me. 
 John, which way must we now turn? " 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 191 
 
 " This way, queen; and here we are at the end of our 
 journey. That path there leads to the torture-chamber, 
 that is to say, to a small grated window, through which one 
 can overlook that room. When King Henry was in special 
 good-humor, he would resort with his friend to this grating 
 to divert himself a little with the tortures of the damned 
 and blasphemers. For you well know, queen, only such as 
 have blasphemed God, or have not recognized King Henry 
 as the pope of their Church, have the honor of the rack 
 as their due. But hush! here we are at the door, and 
 here is the spring that opens it." 
 
 Catharine set her lamp on the ground and pressed the 
 spring. 
 
 The door turned slowly and noiselessly on its hinges, 
 and softly, like shades, the two entered. 
 
 They now found themselves in a small, circular apart- 
 ment, which seemed to have been originally a niche formed 
 in the wall of the Tower, rather than a room. Through a 
 narrow grated opening in the wall only a little air and 
 light penetrated into this dungeon, the bald, bare walls of 
 which showed the stones of the masonry. There was no 
 chair, no table in the whole space; only yonder in that 
 corner on the earth they had heaped up some straw. On 
 this straw lay a pale, tender creature; the sunken, thin 
 cheeks, transparently white as alabaster; the brow so pure 
 and clear; the entire countenance so peaceful; the bare, 
 meagre arms thrown back over the head; the hands folded 
 over the forehead; the head bent to one side in quiet, 
 peaceful slumber; the delicate, tender form wrapped in a 
 long black dress, gently stretched out, and on her lips a 
 smile, such as only the happy know. 
 
 That was Anne Askew, the criminal, the condemned — 
 Anne Askew, who was an atheist only for this, because she 
 did not believe in the king's vast elevation and godlike- 
 ness, and would not subject her own free soul to that of 
 the king. 
 
 " She sleeps," whispered Catharine, deeply moved. 
 
192 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Wholly involuntarily she folded her hands as she stepped 
 to the couch of the sufferer, and a low prayer trembled on 
 her lips. 
 
 " So sleep the just ! " said Hey wood. " Angels com- 
 fort them in their slumbers; and the breath of God re- 
 freshes them. Poor girl; how soon, and they will wrench 
 these noble, fair limbs, and torture thee for the honor of 
 God, and open to tones of distress that mouth which now 
 smiles so peacefully! " 
 
 " No, no," said the queen, hastily. " I have come to 
 save her, and God will assist me to do it. I cannot spare 
 her slumbers any longer. I must wake her." 
 
 She bent down and pressed a kiss on the young girl's 
 forehead. " Anne, awake; I am here! I will save you and 
 set you free. Anne, Anne, awake! " 
 
 She slowly raised her large, brilliant eyes, and nodded 
 a salutation to Catharine. 
 
 " Catharine Parr! " said she, with a smile. " I ex- 
 pected only a letter from you; and have you come your- 
 self? " 
 
 " The guards have been dismissed, and the turnkeys 
 changed, Anne; for our correspondence had been discov- 
 ered." 
 
 " Ah, you will write to me no more in future ! And 
 yet your letters were my only comfort," sighed Anne As- 
 kew. " But that also is well; and perhaps it will only 
 make the path that I have to tread still easier. The heart 
 must set itself free from all earthly bonds, that the soul 
 may move its pinions freely and easily, and return to God." 
 
 " Hear me, Anne, hear," said Catharine in a low and 
 hurried voice. " A terrible danger threatens you! The 
 king has given orders to move you, by means of the rack, 
 to recant." 
 
 " Well, and what more ? " asked Anne, with smiling 
 face. 
 
 "Unfortunate, you know not what you are saying! 
 You know not what fearful agonies await you! You know 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 193 
 
 not the power of pains, which are perhaps still mightier 
 than the spirit, and may overcome it." 
 
 "And if I did know them now, what would it avail 
 me? " asked Anne Askew. " You say they will put me to 
 the rack. Well, then, I shall have to bear it, for I have 
 no power to change their will." 
 
 " Yet, Anne, yet you have the power! Ee tract what 
 you have said, Anne! Declare that you repent, and that 
 you perceive that you have been deluded! Say that you 
 will recognize the king as lord of the Church; that you 
 will swear to the six articles, and never believe in the Pope 
 of Eome. Ah, Anne, God sees your heart and knOws your 
 thoughts. You have no need to make them known by 
 your lips. He has given you life, and you have no right 
 to throw it away; you must seek to keep it so long as you 
 can. Eecant, then! It is perfectly allowable to deceive 
 those who would murder us. Eecant, then, Anne, recant! 
 When they in their haughty arrogance demand of you to 
 say what they say, consider them as lunatics, to whom you 
 make apparent concessions only to keep them from raving. 
 Of what consequence is it whether you do or do not say 
 that the king is the head of the Church? From His 
 heavens above, God looks down and smiles at this petty 
 earthly strife which concerns not Him, but men only. 
 Let scholars and theologians wrangle; we women have 
 nothing to do with it. If we only believe in God, and bear 
 Him to our hearts, the form in which we do it is a matter 
 of indifference. But in this case the question is not about 
 God, but merely about external dogmas. Why should you 
 trouble yourself with these? What have you to do with 
 the controversies of the priests? Eecant, then, poor en- 
 thusiastic child, recant!" 
 
 While Catharine, in a low tone and with fluttering 
 breath, thus spoke, Anne Askew had slowly arisen from 
 her couch, and now stood, like a lily, so slender and deli- 
 cate, confronting the queen. 
 
 Her noble countenance expressed deep indignation. 
 
194 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Her eyes shot lightning, and a contemptuous smile was on 
 her lips. 
 
 " What! Can you thus advise me? * said she. " Can 
 you wish me to deny my faith, and abjure my God, only 
 to escape earthly pain? And your tongue does not refuse 
 to utter this, and your heart does not shrink with shame 
 while you do it? Look at these arms; what are they 
 worth that I should not sacrifice them to God? See these 
 feeble limbs! Are they so precious that I, like a disgust- 
 ing niggard, should spare them? No, no, God is my high- 
 est good — not this feeble, decaying body! For God I 
 sacrifice it. I should recant? Never! Faith is not en- 
 veloped in this or that garb; it must be naked and open. 
 So may mine be. And if I then am chosen to be an ex- 
 ample of pure faith, that denies not, and makes profession 
 — well, then, envy me not this preeminence. ' Many are 
 called, but few are chosen.' If I am one of the chosen, I 
 thank God for it, and bless the erring mortals who wish 
 to make me such by means of the torture of the rack. Ah, 
 believe me, Catharine, I rejoice to die, for it is such a sad, 
 desolate, and desperate thing to live. Let me die, Cath- 
 arine — die, to enter into blessedness! " 
 
 "But, poor, pitiable child! this is more than death; 
 it is the torture of earth that threatens you. Oh, be- 
 think you, Anne, that you are only a feeble woman. Who 
 knows whether the rack may not yet conquer your spirit, 
 and whether you, with your mangled limbs, may not by 
 the fury of the pain yet be brought to that point that you 
 will recant and abjure your faith? " 
 
 " If I could do that/' cried Anne Askew, with flashing 
 eyes, " believe me, queen, as soon as I came to my senses I 
 would lay violent hands on myself, in order to give myself 
 over to eternal damnation, as the punishment of my re- 
 cantation! God has ordered that I shall be a sign of the 
 true faith. Be His command fulfilled! " 
 
 " Well, then, so be it," said Catharine resolutely. " Do 
 not recant, but save yourself from your executioners! I, 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 195 
 
 Anne, I, will save you! I cannot bear — I cannot think of 
 it — that this dear noble form should be sacrificed to a vile 
 delusion of man; that they will torture to the honor of 
 God a noble likeness of the same God! Oh, come, come, I 
 will save you! I, the queen! Give me your hand. Fol- 
 low me out of this dungeon. I know a path that leads 
 out of this place; and I will conceal you so long in my 
 own apartments that you can continue your flight without 
 danger." 
 
 " No, no, queen, you shall not conceal her with you! " 
 said John Heywood. " You have been graciously pleased 
 to allow me to be your confidant; envy me not, then, a 
 share in your noble work also. Not with you shall Anne 
 Askew find refuge, but with me. Oh, come, Anne, follow 
 your friends. It is life that calls you, that opens the doors 
 to you, and desires to call you by a thousand names to it- 
 self! Do you not hear them, all those sweet and alluring 
 voices; do you not see them, all those noble and smiling 
 faces, how they greet you and beckon to you? Anne As- 
 kew, it is the noble husband that calls you! You know 
 him not as yet, but he is waiting for you there in the world 
 without. Anne Askew, there are your children, who are 
 stretching their tender arms out to you. You have not 
 yet borne them; but love holds them in her arms, and will 
 bring them to meet you. It is the wife and the mother 
 that the world yet demands of you, Anne. You ought not 
 to shun the holy calling which God has given you. Come, 
 then, and follow us — follow your queen, who has the right 
 to order her subject. Follow the friend, who has 
 sworn that he will watch over you and protect you as a 
 father! " 
 
 "Father in heaven, protect me!" exclaimed Anne 
 Askew, falling on her knees and stretching her hands up- 
 ward. " Father in heaven! they would tear away Thy 
 child, and alienate my heart from Thee! They are lead- 
 ing me into temptation and alluring me with their words. 
 Protect me, my Father; make my ear deaf, that I may 
 
196 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 not hear them! Give me a sign that I am Thine; that no 
 one has any longer power over me, save Thou alone! A 
 sign, tnat Thou, Father, callest me! " 
 
 And as if God had really heard her prayer, a loud 
 knocking was now perceived at the outer door, and a voice 
 cried: "Anne Askew, awake! and hold yourself ready! 
 The high chancellor and the Bishop of Winchester come to 
 fetch you away! * 
 
 "Ah, the rack!" groaned Catharine, as with a shud- 
 der she buried her face in her hands. 
 
 " Yes, the rack! " said Anne, with a blissful smile. 
 "God calls me!" 
 
 John Heywood had approached the queen and impetu- 
 ously seized her hand. " You see it is in vain," said he, 
 urgently. "Make haste then to save yourself! Hasten 
 to leave this prison before the door there opens." 
 
 "No," said Catharine, firmly and resolutely. "No, I 
 stay. She shall not surpass me in courage and greatness 
 of soul! She will not deny her God; well, then, I also 
 will be a witness of my God. I will not in shame cast my 
 eyes to the ground before this young girl; like her, I will 
 frankly and openly profess my faith; like her I will say: 
 ' God alone is Lord of his Church/ God " 
 
 There was a movement without; a key was heard to 
 turn in the lock. 
 
 " Queen, I conjure you," besought John Heywood, " by 
 all that is holy to you, by your love, come, come ! " 
 
 "No, no!" cried she, vehemently. 
 
 But now Anne seized her hand, and stretching the 
 other arm toward heaven, she said in a loud, commanding 
 voice: " In the name of God, I order you to leave me! " 
 
 While Catharine drew back wholly involuntarily, John 
 Heywood pushed her to the secret door, and urging her out 
 almost with violence, he drew the door to behind them 
 both. 
 
 Just as the secret door had closed, the other on the 
 opposite side opened. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 197 
 
 "With whom were you speaking?" asked Gardiner, 
 peering around the room with a sharp look. 
 
 " With the tempter, that wished to alienate me from 
 God," said she — " with the tempter, who at the approach 
 of your footsteps wanted to fool my heart with fear, and 
 persuade me to recant!" 
 
 " You are, then, firmly resolved? you do not retract? " 
 asked Gardiner; and a savage joy shone in his pale, hard 
 countenance. 
 
 " No, I do not recant! " said she, with a face beaming 
 with smiles. 
 
 " Then, in the name of God and of the king, I take 
 you into the torture-chamber! " cried Chancellor Wrioth- 
 esley, as he advanced and laid his heavy hand on Anne's 
 shoulder. " You would not hear the voice of love warn- 
 ing you and calling you, so we will now try to arouse you 
 from your madness by the voice of wrath and damnation." 
 
 He beckoned to the attendants on the rack, who stood 
 behind him in the open door, and ordered them to seize 
 her and carry her to the torture-chamber. 
 
 Anne, smiling, turned them back. "Nay, not so!" 
 said she. " The Saviour went on foot, and bore His cross 
 to the place of execution. I will tread His path. Show 
 me the way, I follow you. But let no one dare touch me. 
 I will show you that not by constraint, but gladly and free- 
 ly, I tread the path of suffering, which I shall endure for 
 the sake of my God. Eejoice, oh my soul! — sing, my lips! 
 for the bridegroom is near, and the feast is about to 
 begin." 
 
 And in exultant tones Anne Askew began to sing a 
 hymn, that had not died away when she entered the tor- 
 ture-chamber. 
 
198 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXI. 
 
 PKINCESS ELIZABETH. 
 
 The king sleeps. Let him sleep! He is old and in- 
 firm, and God has severely punished the restless tyrant 
 with a vacillating, ever-disquieted, never-satisfied spirit, 
 while He bound his body and made the spirit prisoner of 
 the body; while He made the ambitious king, struggling 
 for the infinite, a slave to his own flesh. How high so- 
 ever his thoughts soar, still the king remains a clumsy, 
 confined, powerless child of humanity; how much soever 
 his conscience harasses him with disquiet and dread, yet 
 he must be calm and endure it. He cannot run away 
 from his conscience; God has fettered him by the flesh. 
 
 The king is sleeping! But the queen is not; and Jane 
 Douglas is not; neither is the Princess Elizabeth. 
 
 She has watched with heart beating high. She is rest- 
 less, and, pacing her room up and down in strange confu- 
 sion, waited for the hour that she had appointed for the 
 meeting. Now the hour had arrived. A glowing crimson 
 overspread the face of the young princess; and her hand 
 trembled as she took the light and opened the secret door 
 to the corridor. She stood still for a moment, hesitating; 
 then, ashamed of her irresolution, she crossed the corridor 
 and ascended the small staircase which led to the tower- 
 chamber. With a hasty movement she pushed open the 
 door and entered the room. She was at the end of her 
 journey, and Thomas Seymour was already there. 
 
 As she saw him, an involuntary trepidation came over 
 her, and for the first time she now became conscious of her 
 hazardous step. 
 
 As Seymour, the ardent young man, approached her 
 with a passionate salutation, she stepped shyly back and 
 pushed away his hand. 
 
 "How! you will not allow me to kiss your hand?" 
 asked he, and she thought she observed on his face a 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 199 
 
 slight, scornful smile. "You make me the happiest of 
 mortals by inviting me to this interview, and now you 
 stand before me rigid and cold, and I am not once per- 
 mitted to clasp you in my arms, Elizabeth! " 
 
 Elizabeth! He had called her by her first name with- 
 out her having given him permission to do so. That of- 
 fended her. In the midst of her confusion, that aroused 
 the pride of the princess, and made her aware how much 
 she must have forgotten her own dignity, when another 
 -could be so forgetful of it. 
 
 She wished to regain it. At this moment she would 
 have given a year of her life if she had not taken this 
 •step — if she had not invited the earl to this meeting. 
 
 She wanted to try and regain in his eyes her lost posi- 
 tion, and again to become to him the princess. 
 
 Pride in her was still mightier than love. She meant 
 her lover should at the same time bow before her as her 
 favored servant. 
 
 Therefore she gravely said: "Earl Thomas Seymour, 
 jou have often begged us for a private conversation; we 
 now grant it to you. Speak, then! what matter of im- 
 portance have you to bring before us? " 
 
 And with an air of gravity she stepped to an easy-chair, 
 on which she seated herself slowly and solemnly like a 
 queen, who gives audience to her vassals. 
 
 Poor, innocent child, that in her unconscious trepida- 
 tion wished to intrench herself behind her grandeur, as 
 behind a shield, which might conceal her maidenly fear 
 and girlish anxiety! 
 
 Thomas Seymour, however, divined her thoughts; and 
 his proud and cold heart revolted against this child's at- 
 tempt to defy him. 
 
 He wanted to humble her; he wished to compel her to 
 bow before him, and implore his love as a gracious gift. 
 
 He therefore bowed low to the princess, and respect- 
 fully said: "Your highness, it is true I have often be- 
 sought you for an audience; but you have so long refused 
 
200 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 me, that at last I could no longer summon up courage to 
 solicit it; and I let my wish be silent and my heart dumb. 
 Therefore seek not now, when these pains have been sub- 
 dued, to excite them again. My heart should remain 
 dead, my lips mute. You have so willed; and I have sub- 
 mitted to your will. Farewell, then, princess, and may 
 your days be happier and more serene than those of poor 
 Thomas Seymour! " 
 
 He bowed low before her, and then went slowly to the 
 door. He had already opened it and was about to step 
 out, when a hand was suddenly laid on his shoulder 
 and drew him with vehement impetuosity back into the 
 room. 
 
 "Do you want to go?" asked Elizabeth, with flutter- 
 ing breath and trembling voice. " You want to leave me, 
 and, flouting me, you want now, it may be, to go to the 
 Duchess of Richmond, your mistress, and relate to her 
 with a sneer that the Princess Elizabeth granted you an 
 interview, and that you have flouted her? " 
 
 " The Duchess of Richmond is not my mistress," said 
 the earl, earnestly. 
 
 "No, not your mistress; but she will very soon be 
 your wife ! " 
 
 " She will never be my wife! " 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 " Because I do not love her, princess." 
 
 A beam of delight passed over Elizabeth's pale, agi- 
 tated face. " Why do you call me princess? " asked she. 
 
 " Because you have come as a princess to favor your 
 poor servant with an audience. But, ah, it would be 
 greatly abusing your princely grace did I want to protract 
 this audience still further. I therefore retire, princess." 
 
 And again he approached the door. But Elizabeth 
 rushed after him, and, laying hold of his arms with both 
 her hands, she wildly pushed him back. 
 
 Her eyes shot lightning; her lips trembled; a passion- 
 ate warmth was manifested in her whole being. Now she 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 201 
 
 was the true daughter of her father, inconsiderate and pas- 
 sionate in her wrath, destroying in her ferocity. 
 
 " You shall not go," muttered she, with her teeth 
 firmly set. " I will not let you go! I will not let you con- 
 front me any longer with that cold, smiling face. Scold 
 me; cast on me the bitterest reproaches, because I have 
 dared to brave you so long; curse me, if you can! Any- 
 thing but this smiling calmness. It kills me; it pierces 
 my heart like a dagger. For you see well enough that I 
 have no longer the power to withstand you; you see well 
 enough that I love you. Yes, I love you to ecstasy and to 
 desperation; with desire and dread. I love you as my 
 demon and my angel. I am angry, because you have so 
 entirely crushed the pride of my heart. I curse you, be- 
 cause you have made me so entirely your slave; and the 
 next moment I fall on my knees and beseech God to for- 
 give me this crime against you. I love you, I say — not as 
 these soft, gentle-hearted women love, with a smile on the 
 lip; but with madness and desperation, with jealousy and 
 wrath. I love you as my father loved Anne Boleyn, 
 whom, in the hatred of his love and the cruel wrath of his 
 jealousy, he made to mount the scaffold, because he had 
 been told that she was untrue to him. Ah, had I the 
 power, I would do as my father did; I would murder you, 
 if you should dare ever to cease to love me. And now, 
 Thomas Seymour, now say whether you have the courage 
 to desire to leave me? " 
 
 She looked bewitching in the flaming might of her 
 passion; she was so young, so ardent; and Thomas Sey- 
 mour was so ambitious! In his eyes Elizabeth was not 
 merely the beautiful, charming maiden, who loved him; 
 she was more than that: she was the daughter of Henry 
 the Eighth, the Princess of England, perchance some day 
 the heiress of the throne. It is true, her father had disin- 
 herited her, and by act of Parliament declared her un- 
 worthy of succeeding to the throne.* But Henry's vacil- 
 
 * Burnet, vol. i, p. 138. 
 14 ** 
 
202 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 lating mind might change, and the disowned princess 
 might one day become queen. 
 
 The earl thought of this as he gazed on Elizabeth — as 
 he saw her before him, so charming, so young, and 
 so glowing with passion. He thought of it as he now 
 clasped her in his arms, and pressed on her lips a burning 
 kiss. 
 
 " No, I will not go/' whispered he. "I will never 
 more depart from your side, if you do not wish me to go. 
 I am yours! — your slave, your vassal; and I will never be 
 anything else but this alone. They may betray me; your 
 father may punish me for high treason; yet will I exult in 
 my good fortune, for Elizabeth loves me, and it will be 
 for Elizabeth that I die!" 
 
 " You shall not die ! " cried she, clinging fast to him. 
 " You shall live, live at my side, proud, great, and happy t 
 You shall be my lord and my master; and if I am ever 
 queen, and I feel here in my heart that I must become so, 
 then will Thomas Seymour be King of England/' 
 
 " That is to say, in the quiet and secrecy of your cham- 
 ber I should perhaps be so! " said he with a sigh. " But 
 there without, before the world, I shall still be ever only 
 a servant; and at the best, I shall be called the favorite." 
 
 " Never, never, that I swear to you! Said I not that 
 I loved you? " 
 
 " But the love of a woman is so changeable I Who 
 knows how long it will be before you will tread under your 
 feet poor Thomas Seymour, when once the crown has 
 adorned your brow." 
 
 She looked at him well-nigh horrified. " Can this be, 
 then? Is it possible that one can forget and forsake what 
 he once loved?" 
 
 "Do you ask, Elizabeth? Has not your father al- 
 ready his sixth wife? " 
 
 * It is true," said she, as mournfully she dropped her 
 head upon her breast. " But I," said she, after a pause, 
 " I shall not be like my father in that. I shall love yon 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 203 
 
 eternally! And that you may have a guaranty of my 
 faithfulness, I offer myself to you as your wife." 
 
 Astonished, he looked inquiringly into her excited, 
 glowing face ! He did not understand her. 
 
 But she continued, passionately: " Yes, you shall be 
 my lord and my husband! Come, my beloved, come! I 
 have not called you to take upon yourself the disgraceful 
 role of the secret lover of a princess — I have called you to 
 be my husband. I wish a bond to unite us two, that is so 
 indissoluble that not even the wrath and will of my father, 
 but only death itself, can sever it. I will give you proof 
 of my love and my devotion; and you shall be forced to 
 acknowledge that I truly love you. Come, my beloved, 
 that I may soon hail you as my husband! " 
 
 He looked at her as though petrified. " Whither will 
 you lead me ? " 
 
 " To the private chapel," said she, innocently. " I 
 have written Cranmer to await me there at daybreak. 
 Let us hasten, then! " 
 
 "Cranmer! You have written to the archbishop?" 
 cried Seymour, amazed. "How! what say you? Cran- 
 mer awaits us in the private chapel? " 
 
 " Without doubt he is waiting for us, as I have written 
 him to do so." 
 
 " And what is he to do? What do you want of him? " 
 
 She looked at him in astonishment. " What do I want 
 Of him? Why, that he may marry us! " 
 
 The earl staggered back as if stunned. "And have 
 you written him that also? " 
 
 "Nay, indeed," said she, with a charming, childlike 
 smile. " I know very well that it is dangerous to trust 
 such secrets to paper. I have only written him to come 
 in his official robes, because I have an important secret to 
 confess to him." 
 
 " Oh, God be praised! We are not lost," sighed Sey- 
 mour. 
 
 "But how, I do not understand you?" asked she. 
 
204 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 "You do not extend me your hand! You do not hasten 
 to conduct me to the chapel! " 
 
 " Tell me, I conjure you, tell me only this one thing: 
 have you ever spoken to the archbishop of your — no — of 
 our love? Have you ever betrayed to him so much as a 
 syllable of that which stirs our hearts? " 
 
 She blushed deeply beneath the steady gaze which he 
 fixed on her. " Upbraid me, Seymour," whispered she. 
 " But my heart was weak and timorous; and as often as I 
 tried to fulfil the holy duty, and confess everything hon- 
 estly and frankly to the archbishop, I could not do it! 
 The word died on my lips; and it was as though an invisi- 
 ble power paralyzed my tongue." 
 
 " So, then, Cranmer knows nothing? " 
 
 " No, Seymour, he knows nothing as yet. But now he 
 shall learn all; now we will go before him and tell him 
 that we love each other, and constrain him, by our prayers, 
 to bless our union, and join our hands." 
 
 "Impossible!" cried Seymour. "That can never 
 be!" 
 
 "How! What do you say?" asked she in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " I say that Cranmer will never be so insane, nay, so 
 criminal, as to fulfil your wish. I say that you can never 
 be my wife." 
 
 She looked him full and square in the face. "Have 
 you not then told me that you loved me?" asked she. 
 "Have I not sworn to you that I loved you in return? 
 Must we then not be married, in order to sanctify the 
 union of our hearts? " 
 
 Seymour sank his eyes to the ground before her pure 
 innocent look, and blushed for shame. She did not under- 
 stand this blush; because he was silent, she deemed him 
 convinced. 
 
 " Come," said she, " come; Cranmer is waiting for us! " 
 
 He again raised his eyes and looked at her in amaze- 
 ment. " Do you not see, then, this is all only a dream that 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 205 
 
 can never become reality? Do you not feel that this 
 precious fantasy of your great and noble heart will never 
 be realized? How! are you then so little acquainted with 
 your father as not to know that he would destroy us both 
 if we should dare to set at naught his paternal and his 
 royal authority? Your birth would not secure you from 
 his destroying fury, for you well know he is unyielding 
 and reckless in his wrath; and the voice of consanguinity 
 sounds not so loud in him that it would not be drowned by 
 the thunder of his wrath. Poor child, you have learned 
 that already! Remember with what cruelty he has al- 
 ready revenged himself on you for the pretended fault of 
 your mother; how he transferred to you his wrath against 
 her. Eemember that he refused your hand to the Dau- 
 phin of France, not for the sake of your happiness, but be- 
 cause he said you were not worthy of so exalted a position. 
 Anne Boleyn's bastard could never become Queen of 
 France. And after such a proof of his cruel wrath against 
 you, will you dare cast in his face this terrible insult? — 
 compel him to recognize a subject, a servant, as his son? " 
 
 " Oh, this servant is, however, the brother of a Queen 
 of England! " said she, shyly. " My father loved Jane 
 Seymour too warmly not to forgive her brother." 
 
 "Ah, ah, you do not know your father! He has no 
 heart for the past; or, if he has, it is only to take ven- 
 geance for an injury or a fault, but not to reward love. 
 King Henry would be capable of sentencing Anne Boleyn's 
 daughter to death, and of sending to the block and rack 
 Catharine Howard's brothers, because these two queens 
 once grieved him and wounded his heart; but he would 
 not forgive me the least offence on account of my being 
 the brother of a queen who loved him faithfully and ten- 
 derly till her death. But I speak not of myself. I am a 
 warrior, and have too often looked death in the face to 
 fear him now. I speak only of you, Elizabeth. You have 
 no right to perish thus. This noble head must not be 
 laid upon the block. It is destined to wear a royal crown. 
 
206 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 A fortune still higher than love awaits yon — fame and 
 power! I must not draw you away from this proud future. 
 The Princess Elizabeth, though abused and disowned, may 
 yet one day mount the throne of England. The Count- 
 ess Seymour never! she disinherits herself! Follow, 
 then, your high destiny. Earl Seymour retires before a 
 throne." 
 
 "That is to say, you disdained me?" asked she, an- 
 grily stamping the floor with her foot. " That is to say, 
 the proud Earl Seymour holds the bastard too base for his 
 coronet! That is to say, you love me not! " 
 
 " No, it means that I love you more than myself — bet- 
 ter and more purely than any other man can love you; for 
 this love is so great that it makes my selfishness and my 
 ambition silent, and allows me to think only of you and 
 your future." 
 
 " Ah," sighed she, mournfully, " if you really loved 
 me, you would not consider— you would not see the dan- 
 ger, nor fear death. You would think of nothing, and 
 know nothing, save love." 
 
 " Because I think of love, I think of you," said Sey- 
 mour. " I think that you are to move along over the- 
 world, great, powerful, and glorious, and that I will lend 
 you my arm for this. I think of this, that my queen of 
 the future needs a general who will win victories for her, 
 and that I will be that general. But when this goal is 
 reached — when you are queen — then you have the power 
 from one of your subjects to make a husband; then it 
 rests with your own will to elevate me to be the proudest, 
 the happiest, and the most enviable of all men. Extend 
 me your hand, then, and I will thank and praise God that 
 he is so gracious to me; and my whole existence will be 
 spent in the effort to give you the happiness that you are 
 so well entitled to demand." 
 
 " And until then? " asked she, mournfully. 
 
 " Until then, we will be constant, and love each oth- 
 er! " cried he, as he gently pressed her in his arms. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 207 
 
 She gently repelled him. "Will you also be true to 
 me till then? " 
 
 " True till death! " 
 
 " They have told me that you would marry the Duch- 
 ess of Eichmond, in order thereby to at length put an end 
 to the ancient hatred between the Howards and Sey- 
 mours." 
 
 Thomas Seymour frowned, and his countenance grew 
 dark. " Believe me, this hatred is invincible," said he; 
 " and no matrimonial alliance could wash it away. It is 
 an inheritance from many years in our families; and I 
 am firmly resolved not to renounce my inheritance. I 
 shall just as little marry the Duchess of Eichmond, as 
 Henry Howard will my sister, the Countess of Shrews- 
 bury." 
 
 " Swear that to me ! Swear to me, that you say the 
 truth, and that this haughty and coquettish duchess shall 
 never be your wife. Swear it to me, by all that is sacred 
 to you! " 
 
 " I swear it by my love! " exclaimed Thomas Seymour, 
 solemnly. 
 
 " I shall then at least have one sorrow the less," sighed 
 Elizabeth. " I shall have no occasion to be jealous. And 
 is it not true," she then said, " is it not true we shall often 
 see each other? We will both keep this secret of this 
 tower faithfully and sacredly; and after days full of priva- 
 tion and disappointment, we will here keep festival the 
 nights full of blissful pleasure and sweet transport. But 
 why do you smile, Seymour? " 
 
 " I smile, because you are pure and innocent as an 
 angel," said he, as he reverently kissed her hand. * I 
 smile, because you are an exalted, godlike child, whom one 
 ought to adore upon his knees, and to whom one ought to 
 pray, as to the chaste goddess Vesta! Yes, my dear, be- 
 loved child, here we will, as you say, pass nights full of 
 blissful pleasure; and may I be reprobate and damned, if 
 I should ever be capable of betraying this sweet, guileless 
 
208 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 confidence with which yon favor me, and sully your angel 
 purity! " 
 
 "Ah, we will be very happy, Seymour!" said she, 
 smiling. "I lack only one thing — a friend, to whom I 
 can tell my happiness, to whom I can speak of you. Oh, it 
 often seems to me as if this love, which must always be 
 concealed, always shut up, must at last burst my breast; as 
 if this secret must with violence break a passage, and roar 
 like a tempest over the whole world. Seymour, I want a 
 •confidante of my happiness and my love." 
 
 " Guard yourself well against desiring to seek such a 
 one!" exclaimed Seymour, anxiously. "A secret that 
 three know, is a secret no more; and one day your confi- 
 dante will betray us." 
 
 u Not so; I know a woman who would be incapable oi 
 that — a woman who loves me well enough to keep my 
 secret as faithfully as I myself; a woman who could be 
 more than merely a confidante, who could be the pro- 
 tectress of our love. Oh, believe me, if we could gain her 
 to our side, then our future would be a happy and a blessed 
 one, and we might easily succeed in obtaining the king's 
 consent to our marriage." 
 
 " And who is this woman? " 
 
 " It is the queen." 
 
 " The queen! " cried Thomas Seymour, with such an 
 expression of horror that Elizabeth trembled; " the queen 
 your confidante? But that is impossible! That would 
 be plunging us both inevitably into ruin. Unhappy child, 
 be very careful not to mention even a single word, a sylla- 
 ble of your relation to me. Be very careful not to betray 
 to her, even by the slightest intimation, that Thomas Sey- 
 mour is not indifferent to you! Ah, her wrath would dash 
 to pieces you and me ! " 
 
 "And why do you believe that?" asked Elizabeth, 
 gloomily. " Why do you suppose that Catharine would fly 
 into a passion because Earl Seymour loves me? Or how? 
 — it is she, perhaps, that you love, and you dare not there- 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 209 
 
 fore let her know that you have sworn your love to me 
 also? Ah, I now see through it all; I understand it all! 
 You love the queen — her only. For that reason you will 
 not go to the chapel with me; for that reason you swore 
 that you would not marry the Duchess of Kichmond; and 
 therefore — oh, my presentiment did not deceive me — 
 therefore that furious ride in Epping Forest to-day. Ah, 
 the queen's horse must of course become raving, and run 
 away, that his lordship, the master of horse, might follow 
 his lady, and with her get lost m the thicket of the woods! 
 — And now," said she, her eyes flashing with anger, and 
 raising her hand to heaven as if taking an oath, " now I 
 say to you: Take heed to yourself! Take heed to your- 
 self, Seymour, that you do not, even by a single word or a 
 single syllable, betray your secret, for that word would 
 crush you! Yes, I feel it, that I am no bastard, that I am 
 my father's own daughter; I feel it in this wrath and this 
 jealousy that rages within me! Take heed to yourself, 
 Seymour, for I will go hence and accuse you to the king, 
 and the traitor's head will fall upon the scaffold! " 
 
 She was beside herself. With clenched fists and a 
 threatening air she paced the room up and down. Tears 
 gushed from her eyes; but she shook them out of her eye- 
 lashes, so that they fell scattering about her like pearls. 
 Her father's impetuous and untractable nature stirred 
 within her, and his blood seethed in her veins. 
 
 But Thomas Seymour had already regained his self- 
 command and composure. He approached the princess 
 and despite her struggles clasped her in his arms. 
 
 "Little fool!" said he, between his kisses. "Sweet, 
 dear fool, how beautiful you are in your anger, and how 
 I love you for it! Jealousy is becoming to love; and I do 
 not complain, though you are unjust and cruel toward me. 
 The queen has much too cold and proud a heart ever to be 
 loved by any man. Ah, only to think this is already 
 treason to her virtue and modesty; and surely she has not 
 deserved this from us two, that we should disdain and 
 
210 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 insult her. She is the first that has always been just to 
 you; and to me she has ever been only a gracious mis- 
 tress! " 
 
 "It is true," murmured Elizabeth, completely ashamed; 
 "she is a true friend and mother; and I have her to 
 thank for my present position at this court." 
 
 Then, after a pause, she said, smiling, and extending 
 her hand to the earl: "You are right. It would be a 
 crime to suspect her; and I am a fool. Forgive me, Sey- 
 mour, forgive my absurd and childish anger; and I prom- 
 ise you in return to betray our secret to no one, not even 
 to the queen." 
 
 " Do you swear that to me? " 
 
 " I swear it to you! and I swear to you more than that: 
 I will never again be jealous of her." 
 
 " Then you do but simple justice to yourself and to the 
 queen also," said the earl, with a smile, as he drew her 
 again to his arms. 
 
 But she pushed him gently back. " I must now away. 
 The morning dawns, and the archbishop awaits me in 
 the royal chapel." 
 
 " And what will you say to him, beloved? " 
 
 " I will make my confession to him." 
 
 " How! so you will then betray our love to him? " 
 
 " Oh," said she, with a bewitching smile, " that is a se- 
 cret between us and God; and only to Him alone can we 
 confess it; because He alone can absolve us from it. Fare- 
 well, then, Seymour, farewell, and think of me till we see 
 each other again! But when — say, when shall we meet 
 again? " 
 
 " When there is a night like this one, beloved, when 
 the moon is not in the heavens." 
 
 " Oh, then I could wish there were a change of the 
 moon every week," said she, with the charming innocence 
 of a child. " Farewell, Seymour, farewell; we must part." 
 
 She clung to his tall, sturdy form as the ivy twines 
 around the trunk of an oak. Then they parted. The 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 211 
 
 princess slipped again softly and unseen into her apart- 
 ments, and thence into the royal chapel; the earl descend- 
 ed again the spiral staircase which led to the secret door 
 of the garden. 
 
 Unobserved and unseen he returned to his palace; even 
 his valet, who slept in the anteroom, did not see him, as 
 the earl crept past him lightly on his toes, and betook him- 
 self to his sleeping-room. 
 
 But no sleep came to his eyes that night, and his soul 
 was restless and full of fierce torment. He was angry with 
 himself, and accused himself of treachery and perfidy; 
 and then again, full of proud haughtiness, he still tried to 
 excuse himself and to silence his conscience, which was 
 sitting in judgment on him. 
 
 " I love her — her only! " said he to himself. " Catha- 
 rine possesses my heart, my soul; I am ready to devote my 
 whole life to her. Yes, I love her! I have this day so 
 sworn to her; and she is mine for all eternity! " 
 
 "And Elizabeth?" asked his conscience. "Have you 
 not sworn truth and love to her also? " 
 
 "No!" said he. "I have only received her oath; I 
 have not given her mine in return. And when I vowed 
 never to marry the Duchess of Eichmond; when I swore 
 this 'by my love/ then I thought only of Catharine — 
 of that proud, beautiful, charming woman, at once 
 maidenly and voluptuous; but not of this young, in- 
 experienced, wild child — of this unattractive little prin- 
 cess! " 
 
 " But the princess may one day become a queen," whis- 
 pered his ambition. 
 
 " That, however, is very doubtful," replied he to him- 
 self. " But it is certain that Catharine will one day be 
 the regent, and if I am at that time her husband, then I 
 am Regent of England." 
 
 This was the secret of his duplicity and his double 
 treachery. Thomas Seymour loved nothing but himself, 
 nothing but his ambition. He was capable of risking his 
 
212 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 life for a woman; but for renown and greatness he would 
 have gladly sacrificed this woman. 
 
 For him there was only one aim, one struggle: to be- 
 come great and powerful above all the nobles of the king- 
 dom — to be the first man in England. And to reach this 
 aim, he would be afraid of no means; he would shrink 
 from no treachery and no sin. 
 
 Like the disciples of Loyola, he said, in justification of 
 himself, " the end sanctifies the means." 
 
 And thus for him every means was right which con- 
 ducted him to the end; that is to say, to greatness and 
 glory. 
 
 He was firmly convinced that he loved the queen ar- 
 dently; and in his nobler hours he did really love her. De- 
 pending on the moment, a son of the hour, in him feeling 
 and will varied with the rapidity of lightning, and he ever 
 was wholly and completely that with which the moment 
 inflamed him. 
 
 When, therefore, he stood before the queen, he did not 
 lie when he v swore that he loved her passionately. He 
 really loved her, with double warmth, since she had to his 
 mind in some sort identified herself with his ambition. 
 He adored her, because she was the means that might con- 
 duct him to his end; because she might some day hold in 
 her hands the sceptre of England. And on the day when 
 this came to pass, he wished to be her lover and her lord. 
 She had accepted him as her lord, and he was entirely cer- 
 tain of his future sway. 
 
 Consequently he loved the queen, but his proud and 
 ambitious heart could never be so completely animated by 
 one love as that there should not be room in it for a second, 
 provided this second love presented him a favorable chance 
 for the attainment of the aim of his life. 
 
 Princess Elizabeth had this chance. And if the queen 
 would certainly become one day Eegent of England, yet 
 Elizabeth might some day perchance become queen there- 
 of. Of course, it was as yet only a perhaps, but one 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 213 
 
 might manage out of this perhaps to make a reality. Be- 
 sides, this young, passionate child loved him, and Thomas 
 Seymour was himself too young and too easily excitable to 
 be able to despise a love that presented him with such en- 
 ticing promises and bright dreams of the future. 
 
 " It does not become a man to live for love alone," said 
 he to himself as he now thought over the events of the 
 night. "He must struggle for the highest and wish to 
 reach the greatest, and no means of attaining this end 
 ough he to leave unemployed. Besides, my heart is large 
 enough to satisfy a twofold love. I love them both — both 
 of these fair women who fetch me a crown. Let fate de- 
 cide to which of the two I shall one day belong! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 HENKY HOWARD, EAKL OF SUKREY. 
 
 The great court festival, so long expected, was at last 
 to take place to-day. Knights and lords were preparing 
 fo* the tournament; poets and scholars for the feast of the 
 poets. For the witty and brave king wished to unite the 
 two in this festival to-day, in order to give the world a rare 
 and great example of a king who could claim all virtue 
 and wisdom as his own; who could be equally great as a 
 hero and as a divine; equally great as a poet and as a phi- 
 losopher and a scholar. 
 
 The knights were to fight for the honor of their ladies; 
 the poets were to sing their songs, and John Heywood to 
 bring out his merry farces. Ay, even the great scholars 
 were to have a part in this festival; for the king had spe- 
 cially, for this, summoned to London from Cambridge, 
 where he was then professor in the university, his former 
 teacher in the Greek language, the great scholar Croke, to 
 
214 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 whom belonged the merit of having first made the learned 
 world of Germany, as well as of England, again acquainted 
 with the poets of Greece.* He wished to recite with Croke 
 some scenes from Sophocles to his wondering court; and 
 though, to be sure, there was no one there who understood 
 the Greek tongue, yet all, without doubt, must be enrap- 
 tured with the wonderful music of the Greek and the 
 amazing erudition of the king. 
 
 Preparations were going on everywhere; arrangements 
 were being made; every one was making his toilet, whether 
 it were the toilet of the mind or of the body. 
 
 Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, made his also; that is 
 to say, he had retired to his cabinet, and was busy filing 
 away at the sonnets which he expected to recite to-day, 
 and in which he lauded the beauty and the grace of the 
 fair Geraldine. 
 
 He had the paper in his hand, and was lying on the vel- 
 vet ottoman which stood before Jiis writing-table. 
 
 Had Lady Jane Douglas seen him now, she would have 
 been filled with painful rapture to observe how, with head 
 leaned back on the cushion, his large blue eyes raised 
 dreamily to heaven, he smiled and whispered gentle 
 words. 
 
 He was wholly absorbed in sweet reminiscences; he was 
 thinking of those rapturous, blessed hours which he a few 
 •days before had spent with his Geraldine; and as he 
 thought of them he adored her, and repeated to her anew 
 in his mind his oath of eternal love and inviolable truth. 
 
 His enthusiastic spirit was completely filled with a 
 sweet melancholy; and he felt perfectly intoxicated by the 
 magical happiness afforded him by his Geraldine. 
 
 She was his — his at last! After struggles so long and 
 painful, after such bitter renunciation, and such mournful 
 resignation, happiness had at last arisen for him; the 
 never expected had at last become indeed a reality. Cath- 
 arine loved him. With a sacred oath she had sworn to 
 
 * Tytler, p. 207. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 215 
 
 him that she would one day become his wife; that she 
 would become his wife before God and man. 
 
 But when is the day to come on which he may show 
 3ier to the world as his consort? When will she be at 
 length relieved from the burden of her royal crown? 
 When at length will fall from her those golden chains 
 i;hat bind her to a tyrannical and bloodthirsty husband — 
 to the cruel and arrogant king? When will Catharine at 
 length cease to be queen, in order to become Lady Surrey? 
 
 Strange! As he asked himself this, there ran over 
 him a shudder, and an unaccountable dread fell upon his 
 
 ;SOUl. 
 
 It seemed to him as if a voice whispered to him: 
 " Thou wilt never live to see that day! The king, old as 
 he is, will nevertheless live longer than thou! Prepare 
 thyself to die, for death is already at thy door! " 
 
 And it was not the first time that he had heard that 
 Toice. Often before it had spoken to him, and always 
 with the same words, the same warning. Often it seemed 
 to him in his dreams as if he felt a cutting pain about the 
 neck; and he had seen a scaffold, from which his own head 
 was rolling down. 
 
 Henry Howard was superstitious; for he was a poet, 
 and to poets it is given to perceive the mysterious con- 
 nection between the visible and the invisible world; to be- 
 lieve that supernatural powers and invisible forms sur- 
 round man, and either protect him or else curse him. 
 
 There were hours in which he believed in the reality of 
 his dreams — in which he did not doubt of that melancholy 
 and horrible fate which they foretold. 
 
 Formerly he had given himself up to it with smiling 
 resignation; but now — since he loved Catharine, since she 
 belonged to him — now he would not die. Now, when life 
 held out to him its most enchanting enjoyments, its intoxi- 
 cating delights — now he would not leave them — now he 
 dreaded to die. He was therefore cautious and prudent; 
 •.and, knowing the king's malicious, savage, and jealous 
 
216 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 character, he had always been extremely careful to avoid 
 everything that might excite him, that might arouse the 
 royal hyena from his slumbers. 
 
 But it seemed to him as though the king bore him and 
 his family a special spite; as though he could never forgive 
 them that the consort whom he most loved, and who had 
 the most bitterly wronged him, had sprung from their 
 stock. In the king's every word and every look, Henry 
 Howard felt and was sensible of this secret resentment of 
 the king; he suspected that Henry was only watching for 
 the favorable moment when he could seize and strangle 
 him. 
 
 He was therefore on his guard. For now, when Geral- 
 dine loved him, his life belonged no longer to himself 
 alone; she loved him; she had a claim on him; his days 
 were, therefore, hallowed in his own eyes. 
 
 So he had kept silence under the petty annoyances 
 and vexations of the king. He had taken it even without 
 murmuring, and without demanding satisfaction, when 
 the king had suddenly recalled him from the army that 
 was fighting against France, and of which he was com- 
 mander-in-chief, and in his stead had sent Lord Hertford, 
 Earl of Sudley, to the army which was encamped before 
 Boulogne and Montreuil. He had quietly and without 
 resentment returned to his palace; and since he could 
 no longer be a general and warrior, he became again 
 a scholar and poet. His palace was now again the resort 
 of the scholars and writers of England; and he was always 
 ready, with true princely munificence, to assist oppressed 
 and despised talent; to afford the persecuted scholar an 
 asylum in his palace. He it was who saved the learned 
 Fox from starvation, and took him into his house, where 
 Horatius Junius and the poet Churchyard, afterward so 
 celebrated, had both found a home — the former as his 
 physician and the latter as his page.* 
 
 Love, the arts, and the sciences, caused the wounds 
 
 * Nott's Life of the Earl of Surrey. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 217 
 
 that the king had given his ambition, to heal over; and he 
 now felt no more rancor; now he almost thanked the king. 
 For to his recall only did he owe his good fortune; and 
 Henry, who had wished to injure him, had given him his 
 sweetest pleasure. 
 
 He now smiled as he thought how Henry, who had 
 taken from him the baton, had, without knowing it, given 
 him in return his own queen, and had exalted him when 
 he wished to humble him. 
 
 He smiled, and again took in hand the poem in which 
 he wished to celebrate in song, at the court festival that 
 day, the honor and praise of his lady-love, whom no one 
 knew, or even suspected — the fair Geraldine. 
 
 " The verses are stiff," muttered he; " this language 
 is so poor! It has not the power of expressing all that 
 fulness of adoration and ecstasy which I feel. Petrarch 
 was more fortunate in this respect. His beautiful, flexi- 
 ble language sounds like music, and it is, even just by 
 itself, the harmonious accompaniment of his love. Ah, 
 Petrarch, I envy thee, and yet would not be like thee. 
 For thine was a mournful and bitter-sweet lot. Laura 
 never loved thee; and she was the mother of twelve chil- 
 dren, not a single one of whom belonged to thee." 
 
 He laughed with a sense of his own proud success in 
 love, and seized Petrarch's sonnets, which lay near him on 
 the table, to compare his own new sonnet with a similar 
 one of Petrarch's. 
 
 He was so absorbed in these meditations, that he had 
 not at all observed that the hanging which concealed the 
 door behind him was pushed aside, and a marvellous young 
 woman, resplendent with diamonds and sparkling with 
 jewelry, entered his cabinet. 
 
 For an instant she stood still upon the threshold, and 
 with a smile observed the earl, who was more and more 
 absorbed in his reading. 
 
 She was of imposing beauty; her large eyes blazed and 
 glowed like a volcano; her lofty brow seemed in all re- 
 15 
 
218 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 spects designed to wear a crown. And, indeed, it was a 
 ducal coronet that sparkled on her black hair, which in 
 long ringlets curled down to her full, voluptuous shoulders. 
 Her tall and majestic form was clad in a white satin dress, 
 richly trimmed with ermine and pearls; two clasps of cost- 
 ly brilliants held fast to her shoulders the small mantilla 
 of crimson velvet, faced with ermine, which covered her 
 back and fell down to her waist. 
 
 Thus appeared the Duchess of Kichmond, the widow of 
 King Henry's natural son, Henry Richmond; the sister 
 of Lord Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey; and the daughter- 
 of the noble Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 Since her husband had died and left her a widow at 
 twenty, she resided in her brother's palace, and had 
 placed herself under his protection, and in the world they 
 were known as " the affectionate brother and sister." 
 
 Ah, how little knew the world, which is ever wont ta 
 judge from appearances, of the hatred and the love of. 
 these two; how little suspicion had it of the real senti- 
 ments of this brother and sister! 
 
 Henry Howard had offered his sister his palace as hep- 
 residence, because he hoped by his presence to lay on her 
 impulsive and voluptuous disposition a restraint which 
 should compel her not to overstep the bounds of custom 
 and decency. Lady Richmond had accepted this offer of 
 his palace because she was obliged to; inasmuch as the 
 avaracious and parsimonious king gave his son's widow 
 only a meagre income, and her own means she had squan- 
 dered and lavishly thrown away upon her lovers. 
 
 Henry Howard had thus acted for the honor of his 
 name; but he loved not his sister; nay, he despised her. 
 But the Duchess of Richmond hated her brother, because 
 her proud heart felt humbled by him, and under obliga- 
 tions of gratitude. 
 
 But their hatred and their contempt were a secret 
 that they both preserved in the depths of the heart, and 
 which they scarcely dared confess to themselves. Both 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 219 
 
 had veiled this their inmost feeling with a show of affec- 
 tion, and only once in a while was one betrayed to the 
 other by some lightly dropped word or unregarded look. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 
 
 ,~ IjIGHTLY on the tips of her toes the duchess stole 
 toward her brother, who did not yet observe her. The 
 thick Turkish carpet made her steps inaudible. She al- 
 ready stood behind the earl, and he had not yet noticed 
 her. 
 
 Now she bent over his shoulder, and fastened her 
 sparkling eyes on the paper in her brother's hand. 
 
 Then she read in a loud, sonorous voice the title of it" 
 " Complaint, because Geraldine never shows herself to her 
 lover unless covered by her veil." * " Ah," said the duch- 
 ess, laughing, "now, then, I have spied out your secret, 
 and you must surrender to me at discretion. So you are in 
 love; and Geraldine is the name of the chosen one to- 
 whom you address your poems! I swear to you, my broth- 
 er, you will repay me dear for this secret." 
 
 "It is no secret at all, sister," said the earl, with a 
 quiet smile, as he rose from the divan and saluted the 
 duchess. " It is so little a secret, that I shall recite this 
 sonnet at the court festival this very evening. I shall not,, 
 therefore, need your secrecy, Rosabella." 
 
 " So the fair Geraldine never shows herself to you un- 
 less in a dark veil, black as the night," said the duchess, 
 musingly. "But tell me, brother, who then is the fair 
 Geraldine? Of the ladies at court, I know not a single 
 one who bears that name." 
 
 * Sonnet by Surrey.— See Nott's Life and "Works of Surrey. 
 
220 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " So you see from that, the whole is only a fiction — a 
 creation of my fancy." 
 
 " No, indeed," said she, smiling; " one does not write 
 with such warmth and enthusiasm unless he is really in 
 love. You sing your lady-love, and you give her another 
 name. That is very plain. Do not deny it, Henry, for I 
 know indeed that you have a lady-love. It may be read 
 in your eyes. And look you! it is on account of this dear 
 one that I have come to you. It pains me, Henry, that 
 you have no confidence in me, and allow me no share in 
 your joys and sorrows. Do you not know, then, how ten- 
 derly I love you, my dear, noble brother? " 
 
 She put her arm tenderly round his neck, and wanted 
 to kiss him. He bent his head back, and laying his hand 
 on her rosy, round chin, he looked inquiringly and smil- 
 ingly into her eyes. 
 
 "You want something of me, Rosabella!" said he. 
 * I have never yet enjoyed your tenderness and sisterly 
 affection, except when you needed my services." 
 
 " How suspicious you are ! " cried she, with a charming 
 pout, as she shook his hand away from her face. " I have 
 come from wholly disinterested sympathy; partly to warn 
 you, partly to find out whether your love is perchance 
 fixed upon a lady that would render my warning useless." 
 
 " Well, so you see, Rosabella, that I was right, and that 
 your tenderness was not aimless. Now, then, you want 
 to warn me? I have yet to learn that I need any warn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Nay, brother! For it would certainly be very dan- 
 gerous and mischievous for you, if your love should chance 
 not to be in accordance with the command of the king." 
 
 A momentary flush spread over Henry Howard's face, 
 and his brow darkened. 
 
 "With the king's command?" asked he, in astonish- 
 ment. "I did not know that Henry the Eighth could 
 control my heart. And, at any rate, I would never con- 
 cede him that right. Say quickly, then, sister, what is it? 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 221 
 
 What means this about the king's command, and what 
 matrimonial scheme have you women been again contriv- 
 ing? For I well know that you and my mother have no 
 rest with the thought of seeing me still unmarried. You 
 want to bestow on me, whether or no, the happiness of 
 marriage; yet, nevertheless, it appears to me that you 
 both have sufficiently learned from experience that this 
 happiness is only imaginary, and that marriage in reality 
 is, at the very least, the vestibule of hell." 
 
 " It is true," laughed the duchess; " the only happy 
 moment of my married life was when my husband died. 
 For in that I am more fortunate than my mother, who 
 has her tyrant still living about her. Ah, how I pity my 
 mother! " 
 
 "Dare not to revile our noble father! " cried the earl, 
 almost threateningly. " God alone knows how much he has 
 suffered from our mother, and how much he still suffers. 
 He is not to blame for this unhappy marriage. But you 
 have not come to talk over these sad and disgraceful family 
 matters, sister! You wish to warn me, did you say? " 
 
 "Yes, warn you!" said the duchess, tenderly, as she 
 took her brother's hand and led him to the ottoman. 
 u Come, let us sit down here, Henry, and let us for once 
 chat confidentially and cordially, as becomes brother and 
 sister. Tell me, who is Geraldine?" 
 
 "A phantom, an ideal! I have told you that al- 
 ready." 
 
 " You really love, then, no lady at this court? " 
 
 "No, none! There is among all these ladies, with 
 whom the queen has surrounded herself, not one whom I 
 am able to love." 
 
 " Ah, your heart then is free, Henry; and you will be 
 so much more easily inclined to comply with the king's 
 wish." 
 
 " What does the king wish ? " 
 
 She laid her head on her brother's shoulder, and said in 
 a low whisper: " That the Howard and Seymour families 
 
222 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 be at last reconciled; that at last they may reconcile the 
 hatred, which has for centuries separated them, by means 
 of a firm and sincere bond of love." 
 
 " Ah, the king wants that! " cried the earl, scornfully. 
 "Forsooth, now, he has made a good beginning toward 
 bringing about this reconciliation. He has insulted me 
 before all Europe, by removing me from my command, 
 and investing a Seymour with my rank and dignity; and 
 he requires that I in return shall love this arrogant earl, 
 who has robbed me of what is my due; who has long in- 
 trigued and besieged the king's ears with lies and calum- 
 nies, till he has gained his end and supplanted me." 
 
 " It is true the king recalled you from the army; but 
 this was done in order to give you the first place at his 
 court — to appoint you lord chamberlain to the queen." 
 
 Henry Howard trembled and was silent. " It is true," 
 he then muttered; "I am obliged to the king for this 
 place." 
 
 " And then," continued the duchess, with an innocent 
 air, " then I do not believe either that Lord Hertford is to 
 blame for your recall. To prove this to you, he has made 
 a proposal to the king, and to me also, which is to testify 
 to you and to all the world how great an honor Lord Hert- 
 ford esteems it to be allied to the Howards, and above all 
 things to you, by the most sacred bonds." 
 
 "Ah, that noble, magnanimous lord!" cried Henry 
 Howard, with a bitter laugh. "As matters do not ad- 
 vance well with laurels, he tries the myrtles; since he can 
 win no battles, he wants to make marriages. Now, sister, 
 let me hear what he has to propose." 
 
 " A double marriage, Henry. He asks my hand for his 
 brother Thomas Seymour, provided you choose his sister, 
 Lady Margaret, for your wife." 
 
 " Never! " cried the earl. " Never will Henry How- 
 ard present his hand to a daughter of that house; never 
 condescend so far as to elevate a Seymour to be his wife. 
 That is well enough for a king — not for a Howard! " 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 223 
 
 " Brother, you insult the king! * 
 
 " Well, I insult him, then! He has insulted me, too, 
 in arranging this base scheme." 
 
 " Brother, reflect; the Seymours are powerful, and 
 stand high in the king's favor." 
 
 "Yes, in the king's favor they stand high! But the 
 people know their proud, cruel, and arrogant disposition; 
 and the people and nobility despise them. The Seymours 
 wiave the voice of the king in their favor; the Howards the 
 -voice of the whole country, and that is of more conse- 
 quence. The king can exalt the Seymours, for they stand 
 far beneath him: He cannot exalt the Howards, for they 
 are his equals. Nor can he degrade them. Catharine 
 died on the scaffold — the king became thereby only a 
 hangman — our escutcheon was not sullied by that act! '" 
 
 " These are very proud words, Henry! " 
 
 "They become a son of the Norfolks, Eosabella! Ah, 
 see that petty Lord Hertford, Earl Seymour. He covets 
 a ducal coronet for his sister. He wants to give her to me 
 to wife; for as soon as our poor father dies, I wear his 
 coronet! The arrogant upstarts! For the sister's escutch- 
 eon, my coronet; for the brother's, your coronet. Never, 
 say I, shall that be! " 
 
 The duchess had become pale, and a tremor ran 
 through her proud form. Her eyes flashed, and an angry 
 word was already suspended on her lips; but she still held 
 it back. She violently forced herself to calmness and self- 
 possession. 
 
 " Consider once more, Henry," said she, " do not de- 
 cide at once. You speak of our greatness; but you do not 
 bear in mind the power of the Seymours. I tell you they 
 are powerful enough to tread us in the dust, despite all 
 our greatness. And they are not only powerful at the 
 present; they will be so in the future also; for it is well 
 known in what disposition and what way of thinking the 
 Prince of Wales is trained up. The king is old, weak, and 
 failing; death lurks behind his throne, and will soon 
 
224 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 enough press him in his arms. Then Edward is king. 
 "With him, the heresy of Protestantism triumphs; and 
 however great and numerous our party may be, yet we 
 shall be powerless and subdued. Yes, we shall be the 
 oppressed and persecuted." 
 
 " We shall then know how to fight, and if it must be so, 
 to die also! " cried her brother. " It is more honorable to 
 die on the battle-field than to purchase life and humilia- 
 tion." 
 
 " Yes, it is honorable to die on the field of battle; but, 
 Henry, it is a disgrace to come to an end upon the scaf- 
 fold. And that, my brother, may be your fate, if you do 
 not this time bend your pride; if you do not grasp the 
 hand that Lord Hertford extends to you in reconciliation, 
 but mortally offend him. He will take bloody vengeance, 
 when once he comes into power." 
 
 "Let him do it, if he can; my life is in God's hand! 
 My head belongs to the king, but my heart to myself; and 
 that I will never degrade to merchandise, which I may 
 barter for a little security and royal favor." 
 
 " Brother, I conjure you, consider it! " cried the duch- 
 ess, no longer able to restrain her passionate disposition, 
 and all ablaze in her savage wrath. " Dare not in proud 
 arrogance to destroy my future also! You may die on the 
 scaffold, if you choose; but I — I will be happy; I will at 
 last, after so many years of sorrow and disgrace, have my 
 share of life's joys also. It is my due, and I will not re- 
 linquish it; and you shall not be allowed to tear it from 
 me. Know, then, my brother, I love Thomas Seymour; 
 all my desire, all my hope is fixed on him; and I will not 
 tear this love out of my heart; I will not give him up." 
 
 " Well, if you love him, marry him, then! " exclaimed 
 her brother. " Become the wife of this Thomas Seymour! 
 Ask the duke, our father, for his consent to this marriage, 
 and I am certain he will not refuse you, for he is prudent 
 and cautious, and will, better than I, calculate the advan- 
 tages which a connection with the Seymours may yield 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 225 
 
 wr family. D9 that, sister, and marry your dearly be- 
 loved. I do not hinder you." 
 
 " Yes, you do hinder me — you alone ! " cried his sister, 
 flaming with wrath. " You will refuse Margaret's hand; 
 you will give the Seymours mortal offence. You thereby 
 make my union with Thomas Seymour impossible! In the 
 proud selfishness of your haughtiness, you see not that you 
 are dashing to atoms my happiness, while you are thinking 
 only of your desire to offend the Seymours. But I tell 
 you, I love Thomas Seymour — nay, I adore him. He is 
 my happiness, my future, my eternal bliss. Therefore 
 have pity on me, Henry! Grant me this happiness, which 
 I implore you for as Heaven's blessing. Prove to me that 
 you love me, and are willing to make this sacrifice for me. 
 Henry, on my knees, I conjure you! Give me the man I 
 love; bend your proud head; become Margaret Seymour's 
 husband, that Thomas Seymour may become mine." 
 
 She had actually sunk upon her knees; and her face 
 deluged with tears, bewitchingly beautiful in her passion- 
 ate emotion, she looked up imploringly to her brother. 
 
 But the earl did not lift her up; on the contrary, 
 with a smile, he fell back a step. " How long is it now, 
 duchess," asked he, mockingly, " since you swore that your 
 secretary, Mr. Wilford, was the man whom you loved? 
 Positively, I believed you — I believed it till I one day 
 found you in the arms of your page. On that day, I 
 swore to myself never to believe you again, though you 
 vowed to me, with an oath ever so sacred, that you loved 
 a man. Well, now, you love a man; but what one, is a 
 matter of indifference. To-day his name is Thomas, to- 
 morrow Archibald, or Edward as you please! " 
 
 For the first time the earl drew the veil away from his 
 heart, and let his sister see all the contempt and anger 
 that he felt toward her. 
 
 The duchess also felt wounded by his words, as by a 
 red-hot iron. 
 
 She sprang from her knees; and with flurried breath, 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 with looks flashing with rage, every muscle of her counte- 
 nance convulsed and trembling, there she stood before her 
 brother. She was a woman no more; she was a lioness, 
 that, without compassion or pity, will devour him who has 
 dared irritate her. 
 
 "Earl of Surrey, you are a shameless wretch!" said 
 she, with compressed, quivering lips. " Were I a man, I 
 would slap you in the face, and call you a scoundrel. But, 
 by the eternal God, you shall not say that you have done 
 this with impunity! Once more, and for the last time, I 
 now ask you, will you comply with Lord Hertford's wish? 
 Will you marry Lady Margaret, and accompany me with 
 Thomas Seymour to the altar? " 
 
 " No, I will not, and I will never do it! " exclaimed her 
 brother, solemnly. " The Howards bow not before the 
 Seymours; and never will Henry Howard marry a wife 
 that he does not love! " 
 
 " Ah, you love her not! " said she, breathless, gnashing 
 her teeth. "You do not love Lady Margaret; and for 
 this reason must your sister renounce her love, and give up 
 this man whom she adores. Ah, you love not this sister of 
 Thomas Seymour? She is not the Geraldine whom you 
 •adore — to whom you dedicate your verses! Well, now, I 
 will find her out — your Geraldine. I will discover her; 
 and then, woe to you and to her! You refuse me your 
 hand to lead me to the altar with Thomas Seymour; well, 
 now, I will one day extend you my hand to conduct you 
 and your Geraldine to the scaffold! " 
 
 And as she saw how the earl startled and turned pale, 
 she continued with a scornful laugh: "Ah, you shrink, 
 and horror creeps over you! Does your conscience admon- 
 ish you that the hero, rigid in virtue, may yet sometimes 
 make a false step? You thought to hide your secret, if 
 you enveloped it in the veil of night, like your Geraldine, 
 who, as you wailingly complain in that poem there, never 
 shows herself to you without a veil as black as night. Just 
 wait, wait! I will strike a light for you, before which all 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 227 
 
 your night-like veils shall be torn in shreds; I will light up 
 the night of your secret with a torch which will be large 
 enough to set on fire the fagot piles about the stake to 
 which you and your Geraldine are to go! " 
 
 " Ah, now you let me see for the first time your real 
 countenance/' said Henry Howard, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders. " The angel's mask falls from your face; and I be- 
 hold the fury that was hidden beneath it. Now you are 
 your mother's own daughter; and at this moment I com- 
 prehend for the first time what my father has suffered, 
 and why he shunned not even the disgrace of a divorce, 
 just to be delivered from such a Megaera." 
 
 " Oh, I thank you, thank you! " cried she, with a sav- 
 age laugh. " You are filling up the measure of your in- 
 iquity. It is not enough that you drive your sister to de- 
 spair; you revile your mother also! You say that we are 
 furies; well, indeed, for we shall one day be such to you, 
 and we will show you our Medusa-face, before which you 
 will be stiffened to stone. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, 
 from this hour out, I am your implacable enemy; look out 
 for the head on your shoulders, for my hand is raised 
 against it, and in my hand is a sword! Guard well the 
 secret that sleeps in your breast; for you have transformed 
 me to a vampire that will suck your heart's blood. You 
 have reviled my mother, and I will go hence and tell her 
 of it. She will believe me; for she well knows that 
 you hate her, and that you are a genuine son of your 
 father; that is to say, a canting hypocrite, a miserable 
 fellow, who carries virtue on the lips and crime in the 
 heart." 
 
 " Cease, I say, cease," cried the earl, " if you do not 
 want me to forget that you are a woman and my sister! " 
 
 " Forget it by all means," said she, scornfully. " I 
 have forgotten long since that you are my brother, as you 
 have long since forgotten that you are the son of your 
 mother. Farewell, Earl of Surrey; I leave you and your 
 palace, and will from this hour out abide with my mother, 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 the divorced wife of the Duke of Norfolk. But mark you 
 this: we two are separated from you in our love — but not 
 in our hate! Our hatred to you remains eternal and un- 
 changeable; and one day it will crush you! Farewell, 
 Earl of Surrey; we meet again in the king's presence! n 
 
 She rushed to the door. Henry Howard did not hold 
 her back. He looked after her with a smile as she left the 
 cabinet, and murmured, almost compassionately: " Poor 
 woman! I have, perhaps, cheated her out of a lover, and 
 she will never forgive me that. Well, let it be so! Let 
 her, as much as she pleases, be my enemy, and torment 
 me with petty pin-prickings, if she be but unable to harm 
 Tier. I hope, though, that I have guarded well my secret, 
 and she could not suspect the real cause of my refusal. 
 Ah, I was obliged to wrap myself in that foolish family 
 pride, and make haughtiness a cloak for my love. Oh, 
 Geraldine, thee would I choose, wert thou the daughter of 
 a peasant; and I would not hold my escutcheon tarnished, 
 if for thy sake I must draw a pale athwart it. — But hark! 
 It is striking four! My service begins! Farewell, Geral- 
 dine, I must to the queen! " 
 
 And while he betook himself to his dressing-room, to 
 put on his state robes for the great court feast, the Duchess 
 of Richmond returned to her own apartments, trembling 
 and quivering with rage. She traversed these with pre- 
 cipitate haste, and entered her boudoir, where Earl Doug- 
 las was waiting for her. 
 
 "Well," said he, stepping toward her with his soft, 
 lurking smile, "has he consented? " 
 
 "No," said she, gnashing her teeth. "He swore he 
 would never enter into an alliance with the Seymours." 
 
 " I well knew that " muttered the earl. " And what 
 do you decide upon now, my lady? " 
 
 " I will have revenge ! He wants to hinder me from 
 being happy; I will for that make him unhappy! " 
 
 " You will do well in that, my lady; for he is an apos- 
 tate and perjurer; an unfaithful son of the Church. He 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 229 
 
 inclines to the heretical sect, and has forgotten the faith 
 of his fathers." 
 
 " I know it ! " said she, breathlessly. 
 
 Earl Douglas looked at her in astonishment, and con- 
 tinned: " But he is not merely an atheist, he is a traitor 
 also; and more than once he has reviled his king, to whom 
 he, in his pride of heart, believes himself far superior." 
 
 " I know it! " repeated she. 
 
 " So proud is he," continued the earl, " so full of blas- 
 phemous haughtiness, that he might lay his hands upon 
 the crown of England." 
 
 " I know it! " said the duchess again. But as she saw 
 the earl's astonished and doubting looks, she added, with 
 an inhuman smile: "I know everything that you want 
 that I should know! Only impute crimes to him; only ac- 
 cuse him; I will substantiate everything, testify to every- 
 thing that will bring him to ruin. My mother is our ally; 
 she hates the father as hotly as I the son. Bring your ac- 
 cusation, then, Earl Douglas; we are your witnesses! " 
 
 "Nay, indeed, my lady," said he, with a gentle, in- 
 sinuating smile. "I know nothing at all; I have heard 
 nothing; how, then, can I bring an accusation? You 
 know all; to you he has spoken. You must be his ac- 
 cuser! " 
 
 " Well, then, conduct me to the king! " said she. 
 
 "Will you allow me to give you some more advice 
 first?" 
 
 " Do so, Earl Douglas." 
 
 " Be very cautious in the choice of your means. Do 
 not waste them all at once, so that if your first thrust does 
 not hit, you may not be afterward without weapons. It 
 is better, and far less dangerous, to surely kill the enemy 
 that you hate with a slow, creeping poison, gradually and 
 day by day, than to murder him at once with a dagger, 
 which may, however, break on a rib and become ineffective. 
 Tell, then, what you know, not at once, but little by little. 
 Administer your drug which is to make the king furious, 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 gradually; and if you do not hit your enemy to-day, think 
 that you will do it so much the more surely to-morrow, 
 Nor do you forget that we have to punish, not merely the 
 heretic Henry Howard, but above all things the heretical 
 queen, whose unbelief will call down the wrath of the 
 Most High upon this land." 
 
 " Come to the king," said she, hastily. " On the way 
 you can tell me what I ought to make known and what 
 conceal. I will do implicitly what you say. Now, Henry 
 Howard," said she softly to herself, " hold yourself ready; 
 the contest begins! In your pride and selfishness you 
 have destroyed the happiness of my life — my eternal fe- 
 licity. I loved Thomas Seymour; I hoped by his side to 
 find the happiness that I have so long and so vainly sought 
 in the crooked paths of life. By this love my soul would 
 have been saved and restored to virtue. My brother has 
 willed otherwise. He has, therefore, condemned me to be 
 a demon, instead of an angel. I will fulfil my destiny. 
 I will be an evil spirit to him." * 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIY. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S TOILET. 
 
 The festivities of the day are concluded, and the gal- 
 lant knights and champions, who have to-day broken a 
 lance for the honor of their ladies, may rest from their vic- 
 
 * The Earl of Surrey, by his refusal to marry Margaret Seymour, 
 gave occasion to the rupture of the proposed alliance between 
 Thomas Seymour and the Duchess of Richmond, his sister. After 
 that the duchess mortally hated him and combined with his enemies 
 against him. The Duchess of Richmond is designated by all the 
 historians of her time as "the most beautiful woman of her century, 
 but also a shameless Messalina." — See Tytler, p. 390. Also Burnet, 
 vol. i, p. 134; Leti, vol. i, p. 83; and Nott's Life of Henry Howard. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 231 
 
 tories upon their laurels. The tournament of arms was 
 over, and the tournament of mind was about to begin. 
 The knights, therefore, retired to exchange the coat-of- 
 mail for gold-embroidered velvet apparel; the ladies to 
 put on their lighter evening dresses; and the queen, 
 likewise with this design, had withdrawn to her dress- 
 ing-room, while the ladies and lords of her court were 
 in attendance in the large anteroom to escort her to the 
 throne. 
 
 Without, it was beginning to grow dusky, and the twi- 
 light cast its long shadows across this hall, in which the 
 cavaliers of the court were walking up and down with the 
 ladies, and discussing the particularly important events of 
 the day's tourney. 
 
 The Earl of Sudley, Thomas Seymour, had borne off 
 the prize of the day, and conquered his opponent, Henry 
 Howard. The king had been in raptures on this account. 
 For Thomas Seymour had been for some time his favorite; 
 perhaps because he was the declared enemy of the How- 
 ards. He had, therefore, added to the golden laurel 
 crown which the queen had presented to the earl as the 
 award, a diamond pin, and commanded the queen to fasten 
 it in the earl's ruff with her own hand. Catharine had 
 done so with sullen countenance and averted looks; and 
 even Thomas Seymour had shown himself only a very 
 little delighted with the proud honor with which the 
 queen, at her husband's command, was to grace him. 
 
 The rigid popish party at court formed new hopes from 
 this, and dreamed of the queen's conversion and return 
 to the true, pure faith; while the Protestant, " the heret- 
 ical" party, looked to the future with gloomy despond- 
 ency, and were afraid of being robbed of their most pow- 
 erful support and their most influential patronage. 
 
 Nobody had seen that, as the queen arose to crown the 
 victor, Thomas Seymour, her handkerchief, embroidered 
 with gold, fell from her hands, and that the earl, after 
 he had taken it up and presented it to the queen, had 
 
232 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 thrust his hand for a moment, with a motion wholly acci- 
 dental and undesigned, into his ruff, which was just as 
 white as the small neatly-folded paper which he con- 
 cealed in it, and which he had found in the queen's hand- 
 kerchief. 
 
 One person had seen it. This little ruse of the queen 
 had not escaped John Heywood, who had immediately, hy 
 some cutting witticism, set the king to laughing, and tried 
 to draw the attention of the courtiers from the queen and 
 her lover. 
 
 He was now standing crowded into the embrasure of a 
 window, and entirely concealed behind the silk curtain; 
 and so, without being seen, he let his falcon eyes roam over 
 the whole room. 
 
 He saw everything; he heard everything; and, noticed 
 by none, he observed all. 
 
 He saw how Earl Douglas now made a sign to Bishop 
 Gardiner, and how he quickly answered it. 
 
 As if by accident, both now left the groups with whom 
 they had just been chatting, and drew near each other, 
 looking about for some place where, unobserved and sepa^ 
 rated from the rest, they might converse together. In all 
 the windows were standing groups, chatting and laughing; 
 only that window behind the curtain of which John Hey- 
 wood was concealed, was unoccupied. 
 
 So Earl Douglas and the bishop turned thither. 
 
 " Shall we attain our end to-day? " asked Gardiner, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " With God's gracious assistance, we shall annihilate all 
 our enemies to-day. The sword already hangs over their 
 heads, and soon it will fall and deliver us from them," said 
 Earl Douglas, solemnly. 
 
 "Are you, then, certain of it?" asked Gardiner, and 
 an expression of cruel delight flitted across his malicious, 
 ashy face. "But tell me, how comes it that Archbishop 
 Cranmer is not here? " 
 
 " He is sick, and so had to remain at Lambeth." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 233 
 
 "May this sickness be the forerunner of his death!" 
 muttered the bishop, devoutly folding his hands. 
 
 u It will be so, your highness; God will destroy His 
 enemies and bless us. Cranmer is accused, and the king 
 will judge him without mercy." 
 
 " And the queen? " 
 
 Earl Douglas was a moment silent, and then said, in a 
 low whisper: " Wait but a few hours more, and she will be 
 queen no longer. Instead of returning from the throne- 
 room to her apartments, we shall accompany her to the 
 Tower." 
 
 John Heywood, completely enveloped in the folds of 
 the curtain, held his breath and listened. 
 
 " And you are, then, perfectly sure of our victory? " 
 asked Gardiner. " Can no accident, no unforeseen cir- 
 cumstance, snatch it from us?" 
 
 "If the queen gives him the rosette — no! For then 
 the king will find Geraldine's love-letter in the silver knot, 
 and she is condemned. So all depends on the queen's 
 wearing the rosette, and not discovering its contents. But 
 see, your highness, there is the Duchess of Eichmond ap- 
 proaching us. She makes a sign to me. Now pray for us, 
 your highness, for I am going with her to the king, and 
 she will accuse this hated Catharine Parr! I tell you, 
 bishop, it is an accusation involving life and death; and if 
 Catharine escape one danger, she will run into another. 
 Wait here for me, your highness; I will return soon and 
 tell you the result of our scheme. Lady Jane, also, will 
 soon bring us news here." 
 
 He left the window and followed the duchess, who 
 crossed the hall, and with her disappeared through the 
 door that led to the king's apartments. 
 
 The ladies and lords of the court laughed and chatted 
 away. 
 
 John Heywood stood, with throbbing heart and in 
 breathless anxiety, behind the curtain, close by Gardiner, 
 who had folded his hands and was praying. 
 
234 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 While Gardiner prayed, and Douglas accused and ca- 
 lumniated, the queen, suspecting nothing of these plots- 
 they were framing against her, was in her toilet-room and 
 being adorned by her women. 
 
 She was to-day very beautiful, very magnificent to look 
 upon; at once a woman and queen; at the same time re- 
 splendent and modest, with a bewitching smile on her rosy 
 lips; and yet commanding respect in her proud and glori- 
 ous beauty. None of Henry's queens had so well under- 
 stood the art of appearing in public, and none remained sa 
 much the woman while doing so. 
 
 As she now stood before the large mirror, which the 
 Republic of Venice had sent the king as a wedding-gift,, 
 and which reflected the figure of the queen sparkling with 
 diamonds, she smiled, for she was obliged to confess to her- 
 self that she was very beautiful to-day; and she thought 
 that to-day Thomas Seymour would look upon his love- 
 with pride. 
 
 As she thought of him, a deep crimson overspread her 
 face, and a thrill flew through her frame. How handsome 
 he had been at the tournament that day; how splendidly 
 he leaped over the barriers; how his eye flashed; how con- 
 temptuous had been his smile ! And then, that look which 
 he directed over to her at the moment when he had con- 
 quered his antagonist, Henry Howard, and hurled the- 
 lance from his hand! Oh, her heart was then ready to- 
 burst with delight and rapture! 
 
 Wholly given up to her reverie, she sank in her gilded 
 arm-chair and cast her eyes to the ground, dreaming and 
 smiling. 
 
 Behind her stood her women in respectful silence, wait- 
 ing for a sign from their mistress. But the queen no* 
 longer thought at all of them; she imagined herself alone; 
 she saw nobody but that handsome, manly face for which 
 she had reserved a place in her heart. 
 
 Now the door opened, and Lady Jane Douglas entered. 
 She, too, was magnificently dressed, and sparkling with 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 235 
 
 diamonds; she, too, was beautiful, but it was the pallid, 
 dreadful beauty of a demon; and he who looked upon her 
 just then, as she entered the room, would have trembled, 
 and his heart would have been seized with an undefined 
 £ear. 
 
 She threw a quick glance on her mistress lost in revery; 
 and as she saw that her toilet was finished, she made a sign 
 to the women, who silently obeyed and left the room. 
 
 Still Catharine noticed nothing. Lady Jane stood be- 
 hind her and observed her in the mirror. As she saw 
 the queen smile, her brow darkened and fierce fire flashed 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " She shall smile no more," said she to herself. " I 
 suffer thus terribly by her; well, now, she shall suffer too." 
 
 Softly and noiselessly she slipped into the next room, 
 the door of which stood ajar, and opened with hurried 
 hand a carton filled with ribbons and bows. Then she 
 drew from the velvet pocket, wrought with pearls, which 
 hung at her side, suspended by a gold chain, a dark-red 
 rosette, and threw it into the box. That was all. 
 
 Lady Jane now returned to the adjoining room; and 
 her countenance, which had been previously gloomy and 
 threatening, was now proud and joyful. 
 
 With a bright smile she walked up to the queen, and 
 kneeling down at her side, she pressed a fervent kiss on 
 the hand that was hanging down. 
 
 " What is my queen musing over? " asked she, as she 
 laid her head on Catharine's knee and tenderly looked up 
 at her. 
 
 The queen gave a slight start, and raised her head. 
 She saw Lady Jane's tender smile, and her yet searching 
 looks. 
 
 Because she felt conscious of guilt, at least of guilty 
 thoughts, she was on her guard, and remembered John 
 Heywood's warning. 
 
 " She is observing me," she said to herself; * she seems 
 affectionate; so she is brooding over some wicked plot." 
 
236 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " Ah, it is well you have come, Jane/' said she aloud. 
 " You can help me; for, to tell you the truth, I am in 
 great perplexity. I am in want of a rhyme, and I am 
 thinking in vain how I shall find it." 
 
 "Ah, are you composing poetry, queen?" 
 
 "Why, Jane, does that surprise you? Shall I, the 
 queen, be able, then, to bear off no prize? I would give 
 my precious jewels, if I could succeed in composing a poem 
 to which the king was obliged to award the prize. But I 
 am wanting in a musical ear; I cannot find the rhyme, and 
 so shall be obliged at last to give up the idea of win- 
 ning laurels also. How the king would enjoy it, though! 
 For, to confess the truth to you, I believe he is a little 
 afraid that Henry Howard will bear off the prize, and 
 he would be very thankful to me if I could contest it 
 with him. You well know the king has no love for the 
 Howards." 
 
 "And you, queen?" asked Jane; and she turned so 
 pale, that the queen herself noticed it. 
 
 "You are unwell, Jane," said she, sympathizingly. 
 " Keally, Jane, you seem to be suffering. You need rec- 
 reation; you should rest a little." 
 
 But Jane had already regained her calm and earnest 
 air, and she succeeded in smiling. 
 
 "No, indeed!" said she. "I am well, and satisfied 
 to be permitted to be near you. But will you allow me, 
 queen, to make a request of you? " 
 
 " Ask, Jane, ask, and it is granted beforehand; for I 
 know that Jane will request nothing that her friend can- 
 not grant." 
 
 Lady Jane was silent, and looked thoughtfully upon 
 the ground. With firm resolution she struggled with her- 
 self. Her proud heart reared fiercely up at the thought 
 of bowing before this woman, whom she hated, and of be- 
 ing obliged to approach her with a fawning prayer. She 
 felt such raging hate against the queen, that in that 
 hour she would willingly have given her own life, if she 
 
HENKY VIII. AND SIS COURT. 237 
 
 could have first seen her enemy at her feet, wailing and 
 crushed. 
 
 Henry Howard loved the queen; so Catharine had 
 robbed her of the heart of him whom she adored. Catha- 
 rine had condemned her to the eternal torment of re- 
 nouncing him — to the. rack of enjoying a happiness and a 
 rapture that was not hers — to warm herself at a fire 
 which she like a thief had stolen from the altar of an- 
 other's god. 
 
 Catharine was condemned and doomed. Jane had no 
 more compassion. She must crush her. 
 
 "Well," asked the queen, "you are silent? You do 
 fiot tell me what I am to grant you? " 
 
 Lady Jane raised her eyes, and her look was serene and 
 peaceful. " Queen," said she, " I encountered in the ante- 
 room one who is unhappy, deeply bowed down. In your 
 hand alone is the power to raise him up again. Will you 
 do it? » 
 
 " Will I do it! " exclaimed Catharine, quickly. " Oh, 
 Jane, you well know how much my heart longs to help and 
 be serviceable to the unfortunate! Ah, so many wounds 
 are inflicted at this court, and the queen is so poor in balm 
 to heal them! Allow me this pleasure then, Jane, and I 
 shall be thankful to you, not you to me! Speak then, 
 Jane, speak quickly; who is it that needs my help? " 
 
 "Not your help, queen, but your compassion and 
 your grace. Earl Sudley has conquered poor Earl Surrey 
 in the tournament to-day, and you comprehend that 
 your lord chamberlain feels himself deeply bowed and 
 humbled." 
 
 " Can I alter that, Jane ? Why did the visionary earl, 
 the enthusiastic poet, allow himself a contest with a hero 
 who already knows what he wants, and ever accomplishes 
 what he wills? Oh, it was wonderful to look upon, with 
 what lightning speed Thomas Seymour lifted him out of 
 the saddle! And the proud Earl Surrey, the wise and 
 learned man, the powerful party leader, was forced to bow 
 
238 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 before the hero, who like an angel Michael had thrown 
 him in the dust." 
 
 The queen laughed. 
 
 That laugh went through Jane's heart like a cutting 
 sword. 
 
 She shall pay me for that! " said she softly to herself. 
 u Queen," said she aloud, " you are perfectly right; he has 
 deserved this humiliation; hut now, after he is punished, 
 you should lift him up. Nay, do not shake your beautiful 
 head. Do it for your own sake, queen; do it from pru- 
 dence. Earl Surrey, with his father, is the head of a pow- 
 erful party, whom this humiliation of the Howards fills 
 with a still more burning hate against the Seymours, and 
 who will, in time to come, take a bloody revenge for it." 
 
 " Ah, you frighten me! " said the queen, who had now 
 become serious. 
 
 Lady Jane continued: " I saw how the Duke of Nor- 
 folk bit his lips, as his son had to yield to Seymour; I heard 
 how one, here and there, muttered low curses and vows of 
 vengeance against the Seymours." 
 
 "Who did that? Who dared to do it?" exclaimed 
 Catharine, springing up impetuously from her arm-chair. 
 "Who at this court is so audacious as to wish to injure 
 those whom the queen loves? Name him to me, Jane; I 
 will know his name! I will know it, that I may accuse 
 him to the king. For the king does not want that these 
 noble Seymours should give way to the Howards; he does 
 not want that the nobler, the better, and more glorious, 
 should bow before these quarrelsome, domineering papists. 
 The king loves the noble Seymours, and his powerful arm 
 will protect them against all their enemies." 
 
 " And, without doubt, your majesty will assist him in 
 it? " said Jane, smiling. 
 
 This smile brought the queen back to her senses again. 
 
 She perceived that she had gone too far; that she had 
 betrayed too much of her secret. She must, therefore, re- 
 pair the damage, and allow her excitement to be forgotten. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 239 
 
 Therefore she said, calmly: " Certainly, Jane; I will 
 assist the king to be just. But never will I be unjust, not 
 even against these papists. If I cannot love them, never- 
 theless no one shall say that I hate them. And besides, it 
 becomes a queen to rise above parties. Say, then, Jane, 
 what can I do for poor Surrey? "With what shall we bind 
 up these wounds that the brave Seymour has inflicted on 
 him?" 
 
 " You have publicly given the victor in the tournament 
 a token of your great favor — you have crowned him." 
 
 " It was the king's order," exclaimed Catharine, 
 warmly. 
 
 " Well! He will not, however, command you to re- 
 ward the Earl of Surrey also, if he likewise should gain 
 the victory this evening. Do it, therefore, of your own 
 accord, queen. Give him openly, before your whole court, 
 a token of your favor! It is so easy for princes to make 
 men happy, to comfort the unfortunate ! A smile, a friend- 
 ly word, a pressure of the hand is sufficient for it. A rib- 
 bon that you wear on your dress makes him to whom you 
 present it, proud and happy, and raises him high above all 
 others. Ponder it well, queen; I speak not for Earl Sur- 
 rey's sake; I am thinking more of yourself. If you have 
 the courage, publicly and in spite of the disgrace with 
 which King Henry threatens the Howards, to be neverthe- 
 less just to them, and to recognize their merits as well as 
 that of others — believe me, if you do that, the whole of 
 this powerful party, which is now hostile to you, will fall 
 at your feet overcome and conquered. You will at last 
 become the all-powerful and universally loved Queen of 
 England; and, like the heretics, the papists also will call 
 you their mistress and protectress. Consider no longer! 
 Let your noble and generous heart prevail! Spiteful for- 
 tune has prostrated Henry Howard in the dust. Extend 
 him your hand, queen, that he may rise again, and again 
 stand there at your court, proud and radiant as he always 
 was. Henry Howard well deserves that you should be gra- 
 
24:0 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 cious to him. Great and beaming like a star, he shines on 
 high above all men; and there is no one who can say that 
 he himself is more prudent or braver, wiser or more 
 learned, noble or greater, than the noble, the exalted Sur- 
 rey. All England resounds with his fame. The women 
 repeat with enthusiasm his beautiful sonnets and love- 
 songs; the learned are proud to call him their equal, and 
 the warriors speak with admiration of his feats of arms. 
 Be just, then, queen! You have so highly honored the 
 merit of valor; now, honor the merit of mind also! You 
 have, in Seymour, honored the warrior; now, in Howard, 
 honor the poet and the man! " 
 
 " I will do it," said Catharine, as with a charming smile 
 she looked into Jane's glowing and enthusiastic counte- 
 nance. " I will do it, Jane, but upon one condition! " 
 
 " And this condition is " 
 
 Catharine put her arm around Jane's neck, and drew 
 her close to her heart. " That you confess to me, that 
 you love Henry Howard, whom you know how to defend so 
 enthusiastically and warmly." 
 
 Lady Jane gave a start, and for a moment leaned her 
 head on the queen's shoulder, exhausted. 
 
 " Well," asked she, " do you confess it? Will you ac- 
 knowledge that your proud, cold heart is obliged to de- 
 clare itself overcome and conquered? " 
 
 " Yes, I confess it," cried Lady Jane, as with passionate 
 vehemence she threw herself at Catharine's feet. " Yes, I 
 love him — I adore him. I know it is a disdained and un- 
 happy love; but what would you have? My heart is 
 mightier than everything else. I love him; he is my god 
 and my lord; I adore him as my savior and lord. Queen, 
 you know all my secret; betray me if you will! Tell it to 
 my father, if you wish him to curse me. Tell it to Henry 
 Howard, if it pleases you to hear how he scoffs at me. For 
 he, queen — he loves me not! " 
 
 " Poor unfortunate Jane ! " exclaimed the queen, com- 
 passionately. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 241 
 
 Jane uttered a low cry, and rose from her knees. That 
 was too much. Her enemy commiserated her. She, who 
 was to blame for her sorrow — she bemoaned her fate. 
 
 Ah, she could have strangled the queen; she could 
 have plunged a dagger into her heart, because she dared to 
 commiserate her. 
 
 " I have complied with your condition, queen," said 
 she, breathing hurriedly. " Will you now comply with 
 my request?" 
 
 " And will you really be an advocate for this unthank- 
 ful, cruel man, who does not love you? Proudly and cold- 
 ly he passes your beauty by, and you — you intercede for 
 him! " 
 
 " Queen, true love thinks not of itself! It sacrifices it- 
 self. It makes no question of the reward it receives, but 
 only of the happiness which it bestows. I saw in his pale, 
 sorrowful face, how much he suffered; ought I not to 
 think of comforting him? I approached him, I addressed 
 him; I heard his despairing lamentation over that misfor- 
 tune, which, however, was not the fault of his activity and 
 courage, but, as all the world saw, the fault of his horse, 
 which was shy and stumbled. And as he, in all the bitter- 
 ness of his pain, was lamenting that you, queen, would 
 despise and scorn him, I, with full trust in your noble 
 and magnanimous heart, promised him that you would, at 
 my request, yet give him to-day, before your whole court, a 
 token of your favor. Catharine, did I do wrong? " 
 
 * No, Jane, no! You did right; and your words shall 
 be made good. But how shall I begin? What shall 
 I do?" 
 
 " The earl this evening, after the king has read the 
 Greek scene with Croke, will recite some new sonnets 
 which he has composed. When he has done so, give him 
 some kind of a present — be it what it may, no matter — 
 as a token of your favor." 
 
 " But how, Jane, if his sonnets deserve no praise and 
 no acknowledgment?" 
 
242 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " You may be sure that they do deserve it. For Henry 
 Howard is a noble and true poet, and his verses are full of 
 heavenly melody and exalted thoughts." 
 
 The queen smiled. "Yes/' said she, "you love him 
 ardently; for you have no doubt as to him. We will, 
 therefore, recognize him as a great poet. But with what 
 shall I reward him? " 
 
 " Give him a rose that you wear in your bosom — a 
 rosette that is fastened to your dress and shows your 
 colors." 
 
 " But alas, Jane, to-day I wear neither a rose nor a 
 rosette." 
 
 " Yet you can wear one, queen. A rosette is, indeed, 
 wanting here on your shoulder. Your purple mantle is 
 too negligently fastened. We must put some trimming 
 here." 
 
 She went hastily into the next room and returned with 
 the box in which were kept the queen's ribbons embroid- 
 ered with gold, and bows adorned with jewels. 
 
 Lady Jane searched and selected, here and there, a 
 long time. Then she took the crimson velvet rosette, 
 which she herself had previously thrown into the box, and 
 showed it to the queen. 
 
 " See, it is at the same time tasteful and rich, for a 
 diamond clasp confines it in the middle. Will you allow 
 me to fasten this rosette on your shoulder, and will you 
 give it to the Earl of Surrey? " 
 
 " Yes, Jane, I will give it to him, because you wish it. 
 But, poor Jane, what do you gain by my doing it? " 
 
 " At any rate, a friendly smile, queen." 
 
 "And is that enough for you? Do you love him so 
 much, then?" 
 
 "Yes, I love him! " said Jane Douglas, with a sigh of 
 pain, as she fastened the rosette on the queen's shoulder. 
 
 " And now, Jane, go and announce to the master of 
 ceremonies that I am ready, as soon as the king wishes it, 
 to resort to the gallery." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 243 
 
 Lady Jane turned to leave the chamber. But, already 
 upon the threshold, she returned once more. 
 
 Forgive me, queen, for venturing to make one more 
 request of you. You have, however, just shown yourself 
 too much the noble and true friend of earlier days for me 
 not to venture one more request." 
 
 " Now, what is it, poor Jane? " 
 
 " I have intrusted my secret not to the queen, but 
 to Catharine Parr, the friend of my youth. Will she 
 keep it, and betray to none my disgrace and humilia- 
 tion?" 
 
 " My word for that, Jane. Nobody but God and our- 
 selves shall ever know what we have spoken." 
 
 Lady Jane humbly kissed her hand and murmured a 
 few words of thanks; then she left the queen's room to go 
 in quest of the master of ceremonies. 
 
 In the queen's anteroom she stopped a moment, and 
 leaned against the wall, exhausted, and as it were crushed. 
 Nobody was here who could observe and listen to her. 
 She had no need to smile, no need to conceal, beneath a 
 calm and equable appearance, all those tempestuous and 
 despairing feelings which were working within. She 
 could allow her hatred and her resentment, her rage and 
 her despair, to pour forth in words and gestures, in tears 
 and imprecations, in sobs and sighs. She could fall on her 
 knees and beseech God for grace and mercy, and call on 
 the devil for revenge and destruction. 
 
 When she had so done, she arose, and her demeanor re* 
 «umed its wonted cold and calm expression. Only her 
 cheeks were still paler; only a still gloomier fire darted 
 from her eyes, and a scornful smile played about her thin, 
 compressed lips. 
 
 She traversed the rooms and corridors, and now she 
 entered the king's anteroom. As she observed Gardiner, 
 who was standing alone and separated from the rest in the 
 embrasure of the window, she went up to him; and John 
 Heywood, who was still hidden behind the curtain, shud- 
 
244 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 dered at the frightful and scornful expression of her fea- 
 tures. 
 
 She offered the bishop her hand, and tried to smile. 
 " It is done," said she, almost inaudibly. 
 
 " What! The queen wears the rosette? " asked Gardi- 
 ner vivaciously. 
 
 " She wears the rosette, and will give it to him." 
 
 " And the note is in it? " 
 
 " It is concealed under the diamond clasp." 
 
 " Oh, then she is lost! " muttered Gardiner. " If the 
 king finds this paper, Catharine's death-warrant is signed." 
 
 "Hush!" said Lady Jane. "See! Lord Hertford is 
 coming toward us. Let us go to meet him." 
 
 They both left the window and walked out into the 
 hall. 
 
 John Heywood immediately slipped from behind the 
 curtain, and, softly gliding along by the wall, left the hall 
 perceived by no one. 
 
 Outside, he stopped and reflected. 
 
 " I must see this conspiracy to the bottom," said he to 
 himself. " I must find out through whom and by what 
 they wish to destroy her; and I must have sure and unde- 
 niable proof in my hands, in order to be able to convict 
 them, and successfully accuse them to the king. There- 
 fore it is necessary to be cautious and prudent. So let us 
 consider what to do. The simplest thing would be to beg 
 the queen not to wear the rosette. But that is only to de- 
 molish the web for this time, without, however, being 
 able to kill the spider that wove it. So she must wear 
 the rosette; for besides, without that I should never be 
 able either to find out to whom she is to give it. But the 
 paper that is concealed in the rosette — that I must have — 
 that must not be in it. i If the king finds this paper, 
 Catharine's death-warrant is signed.' Now, my reverend 
 priest of the devil, the king will not find that paper, for 
 John Heywood will not have it so. But how shall I begin? 
 Shall I tell the queen what I heard? No! She would 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 245 
 
 lose her cheerful spirit and become embarrassed, and the 
 embarrassment would be in the king's eyes the most con- 
 vincing proof of her guilt. No, I must take this paper out 
 of the rosette without the queen's being aware of it. Bold- 
 ly to work, then! I must have this paper, and tweak these 
 hypocrites by the nose. How it can be done, it is not 
 clear to me yet; but I will do it — that is enough. Halloo, 
 forward to the queen! " 
 
 With precipitant haste he ran through the halls and 
 corridors, while with a smile he muttered away to himself: 
 " Thank God, I enjoy the honor of being the fool; for only 
 the king and the fool have the privilege of being able to 
 enter unannounced every room, even the queen's." 
 
 Catharine was alone in her boudoir, when the small 
 door, through which the king was accustomed to resort to 
 her, was softly opened. 
 
 " Oh, the king is coming! " said she, walking to the 
 door to greet her husband. 
 
 u Yes, the king is coming, for the fool is already here," 
 said John Heywood, who entered through the private door. 
 " Are we alone, queen? Does nobody overhear us? " 
 
 " No, John Heywood, we are all alone. What do you 
 bring me ? " 
 
 " A letter, queen." 
 
 "From whom?" asked she, and a glowing crimson 
 flitted over her cheek. 
 
 " From whom ? " repeated John Heywood, with a wag- 
 gish smile. " I do not know, queen; but at any rate it is 
 a begging letter; and without doubt you would do well 
 not to read it at all; for I bet you, the shameless writer 
 of this letter demands of you some impossibility — it may be 
 a smile, or a pressure of the hand, a lock of your hair, or 
 perchance even a kiss. So, queen, do not read the begging 
 letter at all." 
 
 " John," said she, smiling, and yet trembling with im- 
 patience, " John, give me the letter." 
 
 " I will sell it to you, queen. I have learned that from 
 
246 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 the king, who likewise gives nothing away generously, 
 without taking in return more than he gives. So let us 
 trade. 1 give you the letter; you give me the rosette 
 which you wear on your shoulder there." 
 
 " Nay, indeed, John; choose something else — I cannot 
 give you the rosette." 
 
 " And by the gods be it sworn! " exclaimed John, with 
 comic pathos, " I give you not the letter, if you do not 
 give me the rosette." 
 
 "Silly loon," said the queen, "I tell you I cannot! 
 Choose something else, John; and I conjure you, dear 
 John, give me the letter." 
 
 " Then only, when you give me the rosette. I have 
 sworn it by the gods, and what I vow to them, that I stick 
 to! No, no, queen — not those sullen airs, not that angry 
 frown. For if I cannot in earnest receive the rosette as a 
 present, then let us do like the Jesuits and papists, who 
 even trade with the dear God, and snap their fingers at 
 Him. I must keep my oath! I give you the letter, and 
 you give me the rosette; but listen — you only lend it to 
 me; and when I have it in my hand a moment, I am gen- 
 erous and bountiful, like the king, and I make you a pres- 
 ent of your own property." 
 
 With a quick motion the queen tore the rosette from 
 her shoulder, and handed it to John Heywood. 
 
 " Now give me the letter, John." 
 
 "Here it is," said John Heywood as he received the 
 rosette. " Take it; and you will see that Thomas Sey- 
 mour is my brother." 
 
 " Your brother? " asked Catharine with a smile, as 
 with trembling hand she broke the seal. 
 
 * Yes, my brother, for he is a fool! Ah, I have a great 
 many brothers. The family of fools is so very large ! " 
 
 The queen no longer heard. She was reading the 
 letter of her lover. She had eyes only for those lines, 
 that told her that Thomas Seymour loved her, adored her, 
 and was pining away with longing after her. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 247 
 
 She did not see how John Hey wood, with nimble hand, 
 ainfastened the diamond clasp from the rosette, and took 
 <mt of it the little paper that was concealed in the folds of 
 the ribbon. 
 
 " She is saved! " murmured he, while he thrust the 
 fatal paper into his doublet, and fastened the clasp again 
 with the pin. " She is saved, and the king will not sign 
 her death-warrant this time." 
 
 Catharine had read the letter to the end, and hid it in 
 ner bosom. 
 
 * Queen, you have sworn to burn up every letter that I 
 bring you from him; for, forbidden love-letters are dan- 
 gerous things. One day they may find a tongue and tes- 
 tify against you! Queen, I will not bring you again an- 
 other letter, if you do not first burn that one/' 
 
 " John, I will burn it up when once I have really read 
 it. Just now I read it only with my heart, not with my 
 ■eyes. Allow me, then, to wear it on my heart a few hours 
 more." 
 
 "Do you swear to me that you will burn it up this 
 very day?" 
 
 " I swear it." 
 
 " Then I will be satisfied this time. Here is your ro- 
 sette; and like the famous fox in the fable, that pro- 
 nounced the grapes sour because he could not get them, I 
 say, take your rosette back; I will have none of it." 
 
 He handed the queen the rosette, and she smilingly 
 fastened it on her shoulder again. 
 
 " John," said she, with a bewitching smile, extending 
 her hand to him, " John, when will you at length permit 
 me to thank you otherwise than with words? When will 
 you at length allow your queen to reward you, for all this 
 service of love, otherwise than with words? " 
 
 John Hey wood kissed her hand, and said mournfully: 
 44 I will demand a reward of you on the day when my tears 
 ^and my prayers succeed in persuading you to renounce this 
 T wretched and dangerous love. On that day I shall have 
 
248 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 really deserved a reward, and I will accept it from you with 
 a proud heart." 
 
 "Poor John! So, then, you will never receive your 
 reward; for that day will never come! " 
 
 " So, then, I shall probably receive my reward, but 
 from the king; and it will be a reward whereby one loses 
 hearing and sight, and head to boot. Well, we shall see! 
 Till then, farewell, queen! I must to the king; for some- 
 body might surprise me here, and come to the shrewd con- 
 clusion that John Heywood is not always a fool, but some- 
 times also the messenger of love! I kiss the hem of your 
 garment; farewell, queen! " 
 
 He glided again through the private door. 
 
 " Now we will at once examine this paper," said he, as 
 he reached the corridor and was sure of being seen by 
 no one. 
 
 He drew the paper out of his doublet and opened it. 
 " I do not know the handwriting," muttered her, " but it 
 was a woman that wrote it." 
 
 " The letter read: " Do you believe me now, my be- 
 loved? I swore to deliver to you to-day, in the presence 
 of the king and all of my court, this rosette; and I have 
 done so. For you I gladly risk my life, for you are my life; 
 and still more beautiful were it to die with you, than to 
 live without you. I live only when I rest in your arms; 
 and those dark nights, when you can be with me, are the 
 light and sunshine of my days. Let us pray Heaven a 
 dark night may soon come; for such a night restores to me 
 the loved one, and to you, your happy wife, Geraldine." 
 
 "Geraldine! who is Geraldine?" muttered John Hey- 
 wood, slipping the paper into his doublet again. " I must 
 disentangle this web of lying and deceit. I must know 
 what all this means. For this is more than a conspiracy — 
 a false accusation. It concerns, as it seems, a reality. 
 This letter the queen is to give to a man; and in it, sweet 
 recollections, happy nights, are spoken of. So he who 
 receives this letter is in league with them against Catha- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 249 
 
 rine, and I dare say her worst enemy, for he makes use of 
 love against her. Some treachery or knavery is concealed 
 behind this. Either the man to whom this letter is ad- 
 dressed id deceived — and he is unintentionally a tool in 
 the hands of the papists — or he is in league with them, 
 and has given himself up to the villainy of playing the 
 part of a lover to the queen. But who can he he? Per- 
 chance, Thomas Seymour. It were possible; for he has a 
 cold and deceitful heart, and he would be capable of such 
 treachery. But woe be to him if it is he ! Then it will be / 
 who accuses him to the king; and, by God! his head shall 
 fall! Now away to the king! " 
 
 Just as he entered the king's anteroom, the door of the 
 cabinet opened, and the Duchess of Eichmond, accom- 
 panied by Earl Douglas, walked out. 
 
 Lady Jane and Gardiner were standing, as if by acci- 
 dent, near the door. 
 
 " Well, have we attained our end there also? " asked 
 Gardiner. 
 
 * We have attained it," said Earl Douglas. " The 
 duchess has accused her brother of a liaison with the 
 queen. She has deposed that he sometimes leaves the pal- 
 ace by night, and does not return to it before morning. 
 She has declared that for four nights she herself dogged 
 her brother and saw him as he entered the wing of the 
 castle occupied by the queen; and one of the queen's maids 
 has communicated to the duchess that the queen was not 
 in her room on that night." 
 
 " And the king listened to the accusation, and did not 
 throttle you in his wrath ! " 
 
 " He is just in that dull state of rage in which the lava 
 that the crater will afterward pour forth, is just prepared. 
 As yet all is quiet, but be sure there will be an eruption, 
 and the stream of red-hot lava will busy those who have 
 dared excite the god Vulcan." 
 
 " And does he know about the rosette ? " asked Lady 
 Jane. 
 
250 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 "He knows everything. And until that moment he 
 will allow no one to suspect his wrath and fury. He says 
 he will make the queen perfectly secure, in order to get 
 into his hands thereby sure proof of her guilt. Well, we 
 will furnish him this evidence; and hence it follows that 
 the queen is inevitably lost." 
 
 " But hark! The doors are opened, and the master of 
 ceremonies comes to summon us to the golden gallery." 
 
 "Just walk in," muttered John Heywood, gliding 
 along behind them. " I am still here; and I will be the 
 mouse that gnaws the net in which you want to catch my 
 noble-minded lioness." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S KOSETTE. 
 
 The golden gallery, in which the tourney of the poets 
 was to take place, presented to-day a truly enchanting and 
 fairy-like aspect. Mirrors of gigantic size, set in broad 
 gilt frames, ornamented with the most perfect carved 
 work, covered the walls, and threw back, a thousand times 
 reflected, the enormous chandeliers which, with their hun- 
 dreds and hundreds of candles, shed the light of day in 
 the vast hall. Here and there were seen, arranged in 
 front of the mirrors, clusters of the rarest and choicest 
 flowers, which poured through the hall their fragrance, 
 stupefying and yet so enchanting, and outshone in bril- 
 liancy of colors even the Turkish carpet, which stretched 
 through the whole room and changed the floor into one im- 
 mense flower-bed. Between the clumps of flowers were 
 seen tables with golden vases, in which were refreshing 
 beverages; while at the other end of the enormous gallery 
 stood a gigantic sideboard, which contained the choicest 
 and rarest dishes. At present the doors of the side- 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 251 
 
 board, which, when open, formed a room of itself, were 
 closed. 
 
 They had not yet come to the material enjoyments; 
 they were still occupied in absorbing the spiritual. The 
 brilliant and select company that filled the hall was still 
 for some time condemned to be silent, and to shut up with- 
 in them their laughter and gossip, their backbiting and 
 slander, their flattery and hypocrisy. 
 
 Just now a pause ensued. The king, with Croke, had 
 recited to his court a scene from " Antigone "; and they 
 were just taking breath from the wonderful and exalted 
 enjoyment of having just heard a language of which they 
 understood not a word, but which they found to be very 
 beautiful, since the king admired it. 
 
 Henry the Eighth had again leaned back on his golden 
 throne, and, panting, rested from his prodigious exertion; 
 and while he rested and dreamed, an invisible band played 
 a piece of music composed by the king himself, and which r 
 with its serious and solemn movement, strangely contrast- 
 ed with this room so brilliant and cheerful — with this 
 splendid, laughing and jesting assembly. 
 
 For the king had bidden them amuse themselves and 
 be gay; to give themselves up to unrestrained chit-chat- 
 It was, therefore, natural for them to laugh, and to appear 
 not to notice the king's exhaustion and repose. 
 
 Besides, they had not for a long time seen Henry so. 
 cheerful, so full of youthful life, so sparkling with wit and 
 humor, as on this evening. His mouth was overflowing 
 with jests that made the gentlemen laugh, and the beauti- 
 ful, brilliant women blush, and, above all, the young 
 queen, who sat by him on the rich and splendid throne,, 
 and now and then threw stolen and longing glances at her 
 lover, for whom she would willingly and gladly have given 
 her royal crown and her throne. 
 
 When the king saw how Catharine blushed, he turned 
 to her, and in his tenderest tone begged her pardon for his* 
 jest, which, however, in its sauciness, served only to make 
 
252 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 his queen still more beautiful, still more bewitching. His 
 words were then so tender and heartfelt, his looks so full of 
 love and admiration, that nobody could doubt but that the 
 queen was in highest favor with her husband, and that he 
 loved her most tenderly. 
 
 Only the few who knew the secret of this tenderness of 
 the king, so open and so unreservedly displayed, compre- 
 hended fully the danger which threatened the queen; for 
 the king was never more to be dreaded than when he flat- 
 tered; and on no one did his wrath fall more crushingly 
 than on him whom he had just kissed and assured of his 
 favor. 
 
 This was what Earl Douglas said to himself, when he 
 saw with what a cordial look Henry the Eighth chatted 
 with his consort. 
 
 Behind the throne of the royal pair was seen John 
 Heywood, in his fantastic and dressy costume, with his 
 face at once noble and cunning; and the king just then 
 broke out into loud, resounding laughter at his sarcastic 
 and satirical observations. 
 
 "King, your laugh does not please me to-day," said 
 John Heywood, earnestly. "It smacks of gall. Do you 
 not find it so, queen? " 
 
 The queen was startled from her sweet reveries, and 
 that was what John Heywood had wished. He, therefore, 
 repeated his question. 
 
 " No, indeed," said she; " I find the king to-day quite 
 like the sun. He is radiant and bright, like it." 
 
 " Queen, you do not mean the sun, but the full moon," 
 said John Heywood. " But only see, Henry, how cheer- 
 fully Earl Archibald Douglas over there is chatting with 
 the Duchess of Richmond! I love that good earl. He al- 
 ways appears like a blind-worm, which is just in the notion 
 of stinging some one on the heel, and hence it comes that, 
 when near the earl, I always transform myself into a crane. 
 I stand on one leg; because I am then sure to have the 
 other at least safe from the earl's sting. King, were I like 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 253 
 
 you, I would not have those killed that the blind-worm 
 has stung; but I would root out the blind-worms, that the 
 feet of honorable men might be secure from them." 
 
 The king cast at him a quick, searching look, which 
 John Heywood answered with a smile. 
 
 * Kill the blind-worms, King Henry," said he; " and 
 when you are once at work destroying vermin, it will do 
 no harm if you once more give these priests also a good 
 kick. It is now a long time since we burnt any of them, 
 and they are again becoming arrogant and malicious, as 
 they always were and always will be. I see even the pious 
 and meek bishop of Winchester, the noble Gardiner, who is 
 entertaining himself with Lady Jane over there, smiling 
 very cheerfully, and that is a bad sign; for Gardiner smiles 
 only when he has again caught a poor soul, and prepared it 
 as a breakfast for his lord. I do not mean you, king, but 
 his lord — the devil. For the devil is always hungry for 
 noble human souls; and to him who catches one for him 
 he gives indulgence for his sins for an hour. Therefore 
 Gardiner catches so many souls; for since he sins every 
 hour, every hour he needs indulgence." 
 
 " You are very spiteful to-day, John Heywood," said 
 the queen, smiling, while the king fixed his eyes on the 
 ground, thoughtful and musing. 
 
 John Heywood's words had touched the sore place of 
 his heart, and, in spite of himself, filled his suspicious soul 
 with new doubts. 
 
 He mistrusted not merely the accused, but the ac- 
 cusers also; and if he punished the one as criminals, he 
 would have willingly punished the others as informants. 
 
 He asked himself: "What aim had Earl Douglas and 
 Gardiner in accusing the queen; and why had they star- 
 tled him out of his quiet and confidence ? " At that mo- 
 ment, when he looked on his beautiful wife, who sat by 
 him in such serene tranquillity, unembarrassed and smil- 
 ing, he felt a deep anger fill his heart, not against Cath- 
 arine, but against Jane, who accused her. 
 
254 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 She was so lovely and beautiful! Why did they envy 
 him her? Why did they not leave him in his sweet de- 
 lusion? But perhaps she was not guilty. No, she was 
 not. The eye of a culprit is not thus bright and clear. 
 The air of infidelity is not thus unembarrassed — of such 
 maidenly delicacy. 
 
 Moreover, the king was exhausted and disgusted. One 
 can become satiated even with cruelty; and, at this hour, 
 Henry felt completely surfeited with bloodshed. 
 
 His heart — for, in such moments of mental relaxation 
 and bodily enfeeblement, the king even had a heart — his 
 heart was already in the mood of pronouncing the word 
 pardon, when his eye fell on Henry Howard, who, with 
 his father, the Duke of Norfolk, and surrounded by a circle 
 of brilliant and noble lords, was standing not far from the 
 royal throne. 
 
 The king felt a deadly stab in his breast, and his eyes 
 darted lightning over toward that group. 
 
 How proud and imposing the figure of the noble earl 
 looked; how high he overtopped all others; how noble and 
 handsome his countenance; how kingly was his bearing 
 and whole appearance! 
 
 Henry must admit all this; and because he must do so, 
 he hated him. 
 
 Nay! no mercy for Catharine! If what her accusers 
 had told him were true — if they could give him the proofs 
 of the queen's guilt, then she was doomed. And how 
 could he doubt it? Had they not told him that in the ro- 
 sette, which the queen would give Earl Surrey, was con- 
 tained a love-letter from Catharine, which he would find? 
 Had not Earl Surrey, in a confidential hour, yesterday im- 
 parted this to his sister, the Duchess of Eichmond, when he 
 wished to bribe her to be the messenger of love between the 
 queen and himself? Had she not accused the queen of hav- 
 ing meetings by night with the earl in the deserted tower? 
 
 Nay, no compassion for his fair queen, if Henry How- 
 ard was her lover. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 255 
 
 He must again look over at his hated enemy. There 
 he still stood by his father, the Duke of Norfolk. How 
 sprightly and gracefully the old duke moved; how slim his 
 form; and how lofty and imposing his bearing! The king 
 was younger than the duke; and yet he was fettered to his 
 truckle-chair; yet he sat on his throne like an immovable 
 colossus, while he moved freely and lightly, and obeyed his 
 own will, not necessity. Henry could have crushed him — 
 this proud, arrogant earl, who was a free man, whilst his 
 king was nothing but a prisoner to his own flesh, a slave of 
 his unwieldy body. 
 
 " I will exterminate it — this proud, arrogant race of 
 Howards! " muttered the king, as he turned with a friend- 
 ly smile to the Earl of Surrey. 
 
 "You have promised us some of your poems, cousin! " 
 said he. " So let us now enjoy them; for you see, indeed, 
 how impatiently all the beautiful women look on Eng- 
 land's noblest and greatest poet, and how very angry with 
 me they would be if I still longer withhold this enjoyment 
 from them! Even my fair queen is full of longing after 
 your songs, so rich in fancy; for you well know, Howard, 
 she loves poetry, and, above all things, yours." 
 
 Catharine had scarcely heard what the king said. Her 
 looks had encountered Seymour's, and their eyes were fixed 
 on each other's. But she had then cast down to the floor 
 her eyes, still completely filled with the sight of her lover, 
 in order to think of him, since she no longer dared gaze at 
 him. 
 
 When the king called her name, she started up and 
 looked at him inquiringly. She had not heard what he 
 had said to her. 
 
 " Not even for a moment does she look toward me ! " 
 said Henry Howard to himself. " Oh, she loves me not! 
 or at least her understanding is mightier than her love. 
 Oh, Catharine, Catharine, fearest thou death so much that 
 thou canst on that account deny thy love? " 
 
 With desperate haste he drew out his portfolio. "I 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 will compel her to look at me, to think of me, to remember 
 her oath," thought he. " Woe to her, if she does not ful- 
 fil it — if she gives me not the rosette, which she promised 
 me with so solemn a vow! If she does it not, then I will 
 break this dreadful silence, and before her king, and be- 
 fore her court, accuse her of treachery to her love. Then, 
 at least, she will not be able to cast me off; for we shall 
 mount the scaffold together." 
 
 "Does my exalted queen allow me to begin?" asked 
 he aloud, wholly forgetting that the king had already 
 given him the order to do so, and that it was he only who 
 could grant such a permission. 
 
 Catharine looked at him in astonishment. Then her 
 glance fell on Lady Jane Douglas, who was gazing over at 
 her with an imploring expression. The queen smiled; for 
 she now remembered that it was Jane's beloved who had 
 spoken to her, and that she had promised the poor young 
 girl to raise again the dejected Earl of Surrey and to be 
 gracious to him. 
 
 " Jane is right," thought she; " he appears to be deep- 
 ly depressed and suffering. Ah, it must be very painful 
 to see those whom one loves suffering. I will, therefore, 
 comply with Jane's request, for she says this might revive 
 the earl." 
 
 With a smile she bowed to Howard. " I beg you," said 
 she, " to lend our festival its fairest ornament — to adorn 
 it with the fragrant flowers of your poesy. You see we are 
 all burning with desire to hear your verses." 
 
 The king shook with rage, and a crushing word was al- 
 ready poised upon his lip. But he restrained himself. He 
 wanted to have proofs first; he wanted to see them not 
 merely accused, but doomed also; and for that he needed 
 proofs of their guilt. 
 
 Henry Howard now approached the throne of the royal 
 pair, and with beaming looks, with animated countenance, 
 with a voice trembling with emotion, he read his love-song 
 to the fair Geraldine. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 257 
 
 A murmur of applause arose when he had read his 
 first sonnet. The king only looked gloomily, with fixed 
 eyes; the queen alone remained uninterested and cold. 
 
 " She is a complete actress," thought Henry Howard, 
 in the madness of his pain. " Not a muscle of her face 
 stirs; and yet this sonnet must remind her of the fairest 
 and most sacred moment of our love." 
 
 The queen remained unmoved and cold. But had 
 Henry Howard looked at Lady Jane Douglas, he would 
 have seen how she turned pale and blushed; how she 
 smiled with rapture, and how, nevertheless, her eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 Earl Surrey, however, saw nothing but the queen; and 
 the sight of her made him tremble with rage and pain. 
 His eyes darted lightning; his countenance glowed with 
 passion; his whole being was in desperate, enthusiastic 
 excitement. At that moment he would have gladly 
 breathed out his life at Geraldine's feet, if she would only 
 recognize him — if she would only have the courage to call 
 him her beloved. 
 
 But her smiling calmness, her friendly coolness, 
 brought him to despair. 
 
 He crumpled the paper in his hand; the letters danced 
 before his eyes; he could read no more. 
 
 But he would not remain mute, either. Like the 
 dying swan, he would breathe out his pain in a last song, 
 and give sound and words to his despair and his agony. 
 He could no longer read; but he improvised. 
 
 Like a glowing stream of lava, the words flowed from 
 his lips; in fiery dithyrambic, in impassioned hymns, he 
 poured forth his love and pain. The genius of poesy hov- 
 ered over him and lighted up his noble and thoughtful 
 brow. 
 
 He was radiantly beautiful in his enthusiasm; and 
 even the queen felt herself carried away by his words. 
 
 His plaints of love, his longing pains, his rapture and 
 his sad fancies, found an echo in her heart. 
 
258 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 She understood him; for she felt the same joy, the 
 same sorrow and the same rapture; only she did not feel 
 all this for him. 
 
 But, as we have said, he enchanted her; the current of 
 his passion carried her away. She wept at his laments; 
 she smiled at his hymns of joy. 
 
 When Henry Howard at length ceased, profound si- 
 lence reigned in the vast and brilliant hall. 
 
 All faces betrayed deep emotion; and this universal 
 silence was the poet's fairest triumph; for it showed that 
 envy and jealousy were dumb, and that scorn itself could 
 find no words. 
 
 A momentary pause ensued; it resembled that sultry, 
 ominous stillness which is wont to precede the bursting of 
 a tempest; when Nature stops a moment in breathless 
 stillness, to gather strength for the uproar of the storm. 
 
 It was a significant, an awful pause; but only a few 
 understood its meaning. 
 
 Lady Jane leaned against the wall, completely shat- 
 tered and breathless. She felt that the sword was hang- 
 ing over their heads, and that it would destroy her if it 
 struck her beloved. 
 
 Earl Douglas and the Bishop of Winchester had invol- 
 untarily drawn near each other, and stood there hand in 
 hand, united for this unholy struggle; while John Hey- 
 wood had crept behind the king's throne, and in his sar- 
 castic manner whispered in his ear some epigrams, that 
 made the king smile in spite of himself. 
 
 But now the queen arose from her seat, and beckoned 
 Henry Howard nearer to her. 
 
 "My lord," said she, almost with solemnity, "as a 
 queen and as a woman I thank you for the noble and sub- 
 lime lyrics which you have composed in honor of a woman! 
 And for that the grace of my king has exalted me to be 
 the first woman in England, it becomes me, in the name 
 of all women, to return to you my thanks. To the poet is 
 due a reward other than that of the warrior. To the vie- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 259 
 
 tor on the battle-field is awarded a laurel crown. But you 
 have gained a victory not less glorious, for you have con- 
 quered hearts! We acknowledge ourselves vanquished, 
 and in the name of all these noble women, I proclaim you 
 their knight! In token of which, accept this rosette, my 
 lord. It entitles you to wear the queen's colors; it lays 
 you under obligation to be the knight of all women! " 
 
 She loosened the rosette from her shoulder, and hand- 
 ed it to the earl. 
 
 He had sunk on one knee before her, and already ex- 
 tended his hand to receive this precious and coveted 
 pledge. 
 
 But at this moment the king arose, and, with an im- 
 perious gesture, held back the queen's hand. 
 
 " Allow me, my lady," said he, in a voice quivering 
 with rage — " allow me first to examine this rosette, and 
 convince myself that it is worth enough to be presented to 
 the noble earl as his sole reward. Let me see this ro- 
 sette." 
 
 Catharine looked with astonishment into that face 
 -convulsed with passion and fury, but without hesitation 
 she handed him the rosette. 
 
 "We are lost!" murmured Earl Surrey, while Earl 
 Douglas and Gardiner exchanged with each other looks of 
 triumph; and Jane Douglas murmured in her trembling 
 heart prayers of anxiety and dread, scarcely hearing the 
 malicious and exultant words which the Duchess of Rich- 
 mond was whispering in her ear. 
 
 The king held the rosette in his hand and examined it. 
 But his hands trembled so much that he was unable to un- 
 fasten the clasp which held it together. 
 
 He, therefore, handed it to John Heywood. " These 
 diamonds are poor," said he, in a curt, dry tone. "Un- 
 fasten the clasp, fool; we will replace it with this pin here. 
 Then will the present gain for the earl a double value; for 
 it will come at the same time from me and from the 
 queen." 
 
260 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 "How gracious you are to-day!" said John Heywood, 
 smiling — " as gracious as the cat, that plays a little longer 
 with the mouse before she devours it." 
 
 " Unfasten the clasp! " exclaimed the king, in a thun- 
 dering voice, no longer able to conceal his rage. Slowly 
 John Heywood unfastened the clasp from the ribbon. He 
 did it with intentional slowness and deliberation; he let 
 the king see all his movements, every turn of his fingers; 
 and it delighted him to hold those who had woven this 
 plot in dreadful suspense and expectation. 
 
 Whilst he appeared perfectly innocent and unembar- 
 rassed, his keen, piercing glance ran over the whole as- 
 sembly, and he noticed well the trembling impatience of 
 Gardiner and Earl Douglas; and it did not escape him how 
 pale Lady Jane was, and how full of expectation were 
 the intent features of the Duchess of Richmond. 
 
 " They are the ones with whom this conspiracy origi- 
 nated," said John Heywood to himself. " But I will keep 
 silence till I can one day convict them." 
 
 " There, here is the clasp! " said he then aloud to the 
 king. " It stuck as tightly in the ribbon as malice in the 
 hearts of priests and courtiers! " 
 
 The king snatched the ribbon out of his hand, and ex- 
 amined it by drawing it through his fingers. 
 
 "Nothing! nothing at all!" said he, gnashing his 
 teeth; and now, deceived in his expectations and suppo- 
 sitions, he could no longer muster strength to withstand 
 that roaring torrent of wrath which overflowed his heart. 
 The tiger was again aroused in him; he had calmly waited 
 for the moment when the promised prey would be brought 
 to him; now, when it seemed to be escaping him, his sav- 
 age and cruel disposition started up within him. The 
 tiger panted and thirsted for blood; and that he was not 
 to get it, made him raging with fury. 
 
 With a wild movement he threw the rosette on the 
 ground, and raised his arm menacingly toward Henry 
 Howard. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 261 
 
 " Dare not to touch that rosette/' cried he, in a voice 
 of thunder, * before you have exculpated yourself from the 
 guilt of which you are accused." 
 
 Eari Surrey looked him steadily and boldly in the eye. 
 " Have I been accused, then? " asked he. " Then I de- 
 mand, first of all, that I be confronted with my accusers, 
 and that my fault be named! " 
 
 "Ha, traitor! Do you dare to brave me? " yelled the 
 king, stamping furiously with his foot. "Well, now, I 
 will be your accuser and I will be your judge! " 
 
 " And surely, my king and husband, you will be a right- 
 eous judge/' said Catharine, as she inclined imploringly 
 toward the king and grasped his hand. " You will not 
 condemn the noble Earl Surrey without having heard him; 
 and if you find him guiltless, you will punish his ac- 
 cusers?" 
 
 But this intercession of the queen made the king rag- 
 ing. He threw her hand from him, and gazed at her with 
 looks of such flaming wrath, that she involuntarily trem- 
 bled. 
 
 " Traitoress yourself! " yelled he, wildly. " Speak not 
 of innocence — you who are yourself guilty; and before you 
 dare defend the earl, defend yourself! " 
 
 Catharine rose from her seat and looked with flashing 
 eyes into the king's face blazing with wrath. "King 
 Henry of England," said she, solemnly, " you have openly, 
 before your whole court, accused your queen of a crime. I 
 now demand that you name it! " 
 
 She was of wondrous beauty in her proud, bold bearing 
 — in her imposing, majestic tranquillity. 
 
 The decisive moment had come, and she was conscious 
 that her life and her future were struggling with death 
 for the victory. 
 
 She looked over to Thomas Seymour, and their eyes 
 met. She saw how he laid his hand on his sword, and 
 nodded to her a smiling greeting. 
 
 "He will defend me; and before he will suffer me to 
 
262 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 be dragged to the Tower, he himself will plunge his sword 
 into my breast/' thought she, and a joyous, triumphant 
 assurance filled her whole heart. 
 
 She saw nothing but him, who had sworn to die with 
 her when the decisive moment came. She looked with a 
 smile on the blade which he had already half drawn from 
 its scabbard; and she hailed it as a dear, long-yearned-for 
 friend. 
 
 She saw not that Henry Howard also had lain his hand 
 on his sword; that he, too, was ready for her defence, 
 firmly resolved to slay the king himself, before his mouth 
 uttered the sentence of death over the queen. 
 
 But Lady Jane Douglas saw it. She understood how 
 to read the earl's countenance; she felt that he was ready 
 to go to death for his beloved; and it filled her heart at 
 once with woe and rapture. 
 
 She, too, was now firmly resolved to follow her heart 
 and her love; and, forgetting all else besides these, she 
 hastened forward, and was now standing by Henry 
 Howard. 
 
 " Be prudent, Earl Surrey," said she, in a low whisper. 
 "Take your hand from your sword. The queen, by my 
 mouth, commands you to do so! " 
 
 Henry Howard looked at her astonished and surprised; 
 but he let his hand slip from the hilt of his sword, and 
 again looked toward the queen. 
 
 She had repeated her demand; she had once more de- 
 manded of the king — who, speechless and completely over- 
 come with anger, had fallen back into his seat — to name 
 the crime of which she was accused. 
 
 " Now, then, my queen, you demand it, and you shall 
 hear it," cried he. "You want to know the crime of 
 which you are accused? Answer me then, my lady! They 
 accuse you of not always staying at night in your sleeping- 
 Toom. It is alleged that you sometimes leave it for many 
 hours; and that none of your women accompanied you 
 when you glided through the corridors and up the secret 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 263 
 
 stairs to the lonely tower, in which was waiting for you 
 your lover, who at the same time entered the tower 
 through the small street door." 
 
 " He knows all! " muttered Henry Howard; and again 
 he laid his hand on his sword, and was about to approach 
 the queen. 
 
 Lady Jane held him back. "Wait for the issue/' 
 said she. " There is still time to die! " 
 
 "He knows all!" thought the queen also; and now 
 she felt within herself the daring courage to risk all, that 
 at least she might not stand there a traitoress in the eyes 
 of her lover. 
 
 " He shall not believe that I have been untrue to him," 
 thought she. " I will tell all — confess all, that he may 
 know why I went and whither." 
 
 " Now answer, my Lady Catharine ! " thundered the 
 king. " Answer, and tell me whether you have been 
 falsely accused. Is it true that you, eight days ago, in the 
 night between Monday and Tuesday, left your sleeping - 
 room at the hour of midnight, and went secretly to the 
 lonely tower? Is it true that you received there a man 
 who is your lover? " 
 
 The queen looked at him in angry pride. "Henry, 
 Henry, woe to you, that you dare thus insult your own 
 wife! " cried she. 
 
 "Answer me! You were not on that night in your 
 sleeping-room? " 
 
 "No," said Catharine, with dignified composure, "I 
 was not there." 
 
 The king sank back in his seat, and a real roar of fury 
 sounded from his lips. It made the women turn pale, and 
 even the men felt themselves tremble. 
 
 Catharine alone had not heeded it at all; she alone had 
 heard nothing save that cry of amazement which Thomas 
 Seymour uttered; and she saw only the angry and up- 
 braiding looks which he threw across at her. 
 
 She answered these looks with a friendly and confident 
 
264 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 smile, and pressed both her hands to her heart, as she 
 looked at him. 
 
 "I will justify myself before him at least," thought 
 she. 
 
 The king had recovered from his first shock. He again 
 raised himself up, and his countenance now exhibited a 
 fearful, threatening coolness. 
 
 " You confess, then," asked he, " that you were not in 
 your sleeping-room on that night? " 
 
 " I have already said so," exclaimed Catharine, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 The king compressed his lips so violently, that they 
 bled. "And a man was with you?" asked he — "a man 
 with whom you made an assignation, and whom you re- 
 ceived in the lonely tower?" 
 
 " A man was with me. But I did not receive him in 
 the lonely tower; and it was no assignation." 
 
 "Who was that man?" yelled the king. "Answer 
 me ! Tell me his* name, if you do not want me to strangle 
 you myself! " 
 
 " King Henry, I fear death no longer! " said Catha- 
 rine, with a contemptuous smile. 
 
 "Who was that man? Tell me his name! " yelled the 
 king once more. 
 
 The queen raised herself more proudly, and her defiant 
 look ran over the whole assembly. 
 
 " The man," said she, solemnly, " who was with me on 
 that night — he is named " 
 
 "He is named John Heywood! " said this individual, 
 as he seriously and proudly walked forward from behind 
 the king's throne. "Yes, Henry, your brother, the fool 
 John Heywood, had on that night the proud honor of ac- 
 companying your consort on her holy errand; but, I assure 
 you, that he was less like the king, than the king is just 
 now like the fool." 
 
 A murmur of surprise ran through the assembly. The 
 king leaned back in his royal seat speechless. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 265 
 
 "And now, King Henry," said Catharine, calmly — 
 " now I will tell you whither I went with John Heywood 
 on that night." 
 
 She was silent, and for a moment leaned back on her 
 seat. She felt that the looks of all were directed to her; 
 she heard the king's wrathful groan; she felt her lover's 
 flashing, reproachful glances; she saw the derisive smile of 
 those haughty ladies, who had never forgiven her — that 
 she, from a simple baroness, had become queen. But all 
 this made her only still bolder and more courageous. 
 
 She had arrived at the turning-point of her life, where 
 she must risk everything to avoid sinking into the abyss. 
 
 But Lady Jane also had arrived at such a decisive mo- 
 ment of her existence. She, too, said to herself: " I must 
 at this hour risk all, if I do not want to lose all." She saw 
 Henry Howard's pale, expectant face. She knew, if the 
 queen now spoke, the whole web of their conspiracy would 
 be revealed to him. 
 
 She must, therefore, anticipate the queen. She must 
 warn Henry Howard. 
 
 " Fear nothing! " whispered she to him. " We were 
 prepared for that. I have put into her hands the means 
 of escape! " 
 
 "Will you now at last speak?" exclaimed the king, 
 quivering with impatience and rage. " Will you at last 
 tell us where you were on that night?" 
 
 "I will tell!" exclaimed Catharine, rising up again 
 
 boldly and resolutely. " But woe be to those who drive 
 
 me to this! For I tell you beforehand, from the accused I 
 
 will become an accuser who demands justice, if not before 
 
 the throne of the King of England, yet before the throne 
 
 of the Lord of all kings! King Henry of England, do you 
 
 ask me whither I went on that night with John Heywood? 
 
 I might, perhaps, as your queen and consort, demand that 
 
 you put this question to me not before so many witnesses, 
 
 but in the quiet of our chamber; but you seek publicity, 
 
 and I do not shun it. Well, hear the truth,, then, all of 
 18 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 you! On that night, between Monday and Tuesday, I was 
 not in my sleeping-apartment, because I had a grave and 
 eacred duty to perform; because a dying woman called on 
 me for help and pity! Would you know, my lord and 
 husband, who this dying woman was? It was Anne 
 Askew!" 
 
 " Anne Askew! " exclaimed the king in astonishment; 
 and his countenance exhibited a less wrathful expression. 
 
 " Anne Askew! " muttered the others; and John Hey- 
 wood very well saw how Bishop Gardiner's brow darkened, 
 and how Chancellor Wriothesley turned pale and cast 
 down his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I was with Anne Askew! " continued the 
 queen — "with Anne Askew, whom those pious and wise 
 lords yonder had condemned, not so much on account of 
 her faith, but because they knew that I loved her. Anne 
 Askew was to die, because Catharine Parr loved her! She 
 was to go to the stake, that my heart also might burn with 
 fiepy pains! And because it was so, I was obliged to risk 
 everything in order to save her. Oh, my king, say your- 
 self, did I not owe it to this poor girl to try everything in 
 order to save her? On my account she was to suffer these 
 tortures. For they had shamefully stolen from me a let- 
 ter which Anne Askew, in the distress of her heart, had 
 addressed to me; and they showed this letter to you in 
 order to cast suspicion on me and accuse me to you. But 
 your noble heart repelled the suspicion; and now their 
 wrath fell again on Anne Askew, and she must suffer, 
 because they did not find me punishable. She must 
 atone for having dared to write to me. They worked 
 i matters with you so that she was put to the rack. But 
 when my husband gave way to their urging, yet the 
 noble king remained still awake in him. ' Go/ said he, 
 * rack her and kill her; but see first whether .she will not 
 recant.' " 
 
 Henry looked astonished into her noble and defiant 
 face. "Do you know that?" asked he. "And yet we 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 267 
 
 were alone, and no human being present. Who could tell 
 you that?" 
 
 " When man is no longer able to help, then God under- 
 takes! " said Catharine solemnly. " It was God who com- 
 manded me to go to Anne Askew, and try whether I could 
 save her. And I went. But though the wife of a noble 
 and great king, I am still but a weak and timid woman. I 
 was afraid to tread this gloomy and dangerous path alone; 
 I needed a strong manly arm to lean upon; and so John 
 Heywood lent me his." 
 
 u And you were really with Anne Askew," interposed 
 the king, thoughtfully — " with that hardened sinner, who 
 despised mercy, and in the stubbornness of her soul would 
 not be a partaker of the pardon that I offered her? " 
 
 " My lord and husband," said the queen, with tears in 
 her eyes, "she whom you have just accused stands even 
 now before the throne of the Lord, and has received from 
 her God the forgiveness of her sins! Therefore, do you 
 likewise pardon her; and may the flames of the stake, to 
 which yesterday the noble virgin body of this girl was- 
 bound, have consumed also the wrath and hatred which 
 had been kindled in your heart against her! Anne Askew 
 passed away like a saint; for she forgave all her enemies 
 and blessed her tormentors." 
 
 " Anne Askew was a damnable sinner, who dared resist 
 the command of her lord and king! " interrupted Bishop 
 Gardiner, looking daggers at her. 
 
 "And dare you maintain, my lord, that you at that 
 time fulfilled the commands of your royal master simply 
 and exactly? " asked Catharine. " Did you keep within 
 them with respect to Anne Askew? No! I say; for the 
 king had not ordered you to torture her; he had not bid- 
 den you to lacerate in blasphemous wrath a noble human 
 form, and distort that likeness of God into a horrible cari- 
 cature. And that, my lord, you did! Before God and 
 your king, I accuse you of it — I, the queen! For you 
 know, my lord and husband, I was there when Anne 
 
268 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 Askew was racked. I saw her agony; and John Heywood 
 saw it with me." 
 
 The eyes of all were now directed inquiringly to the 
 king, of whose ferocity and choler every one expected a 
 violent outbreak. 
 
 But this time they were mistaken. The king was so 
 well satisfied to find his consort clear of the crime laid to 
 her charge, that he willingly forgave her for having com- 
 mitted a crime of less weighty character. Besides, it 
 filled him with respect to see his consort confronting her 
 accusers so boldly and proudly; and he felt toward them 
 just as burning wrath and hatred as he had before har- 
 bored against the queen. He was pleased that the malig- 
 nant and persistent persecutors of his fair and proud wife 
 should now be humbled by her before the eyes of all his 
 •court. 
 
 Therefore he looked at her with an imperceptible smile, 
 and said with deep interest: " But how could this happen, 
 my lady? By what path did you get thither? " 
 
 " That is an inquiry which any one except the king is 
 authorized to make. King Henry alone knows the way 
 that I went! " said Catharine, with a slight smile. 
 
 John Heywood, who was still standing behind the king's 
 throne, now bent down close to Henry's ear, and spoke 
 with him a long time in a quick, low tone. 
 
 The king listened to him attentively; then he mur- 
 mured so loud that the bystanders could very well under- 
 stand him: " By God, she is a spirited and brave woman; 
 and we should be obliged to confess that, even were she 
 not our queen! " 
 
 " Continue, my lady! " said he then aloud, turning to 
 the queen with a gracious look. "Relate to me, Catha- 
 rine, what saw you then in the torture-chamber?" 
 
 " Oh, my king and lord, it horrifies me only to think of 
 it," cried she, shuddering and turning pale. " I saw a 
 poor young woman who writhed in fearful agony, and 
 whose staring eyes were raised in mute supplication to 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 269 
 
 Heaven. She did not beg her tormentors for mercy; she 
 wanted from them no compassion and no pity; she did not 
 scream and whine from the pain, though her limbs cracked 
 and her flesh snapped apart like glass; she raised her 
 clasped hands to God, and her lips murmured low prayers, 
 which, perhaps, made the angels of heaven weep, but were 
 not able to touch the hearts of her tormentors. You had 
 ordered her to be racked, if she would not retract. They 
 did not ask her whether she would do this — they racked 
 her. But her soul was strong and full of courage; and, 
 under the tortures of the executioner, her lips remained 
 mute. Let theologians say and determine whether Anne 
 Askew's faith was a false one; but this they will not dare 
 deny: that in the noble enthusiasm of this faith, she. was 
 a heroine who at least did not deny her God. At length, 
 worn out with so much useless exertion, the assistant exe- 
 cutioners discontinued their bloody work, to rest from the 
 tortures which they had prepared for Anne Askew. The 
 lieutenant of the Tower declared the work of the rack 
 ended. The highest degrees had been applied, and they 
 had proved powerless; cruelty was obliged to acknowledge 
 itself conquered. But the priests of the Church, with 
 savage vehemence, demanded that she should be racked 
 once more. Dare deny that, ye lords, whom I behold 
 standing there opposite with faces pale as death! Yes, 
 my king, the servants of the rack refused to obey the ser- 
 vants of God; for in the hearts of the hangman's drudges 
 there was more pity than in the hearts of the priests! 
 And when they refused to proceed in their bloody work, 
 and when the lieutenant of the Tower, in virtue of the 
 existing law, declared the racking at an end, then I saw 
 one of the first ministers of our Church throw aside his 
 sacred garments; then the priest of God transformed him- 
 self into a hangman's drudge, who, with bloodthirsty de- 
 light, lacerated anew the noble mangled body of the young 
 girl, and more cruel than the attendants of the rack, un- 
 sparingly they broke and dislocated the limbs, which they 
 
270 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 had only squeezed in their screws.* Excuse me, my king^ 
 from sketching this scene of horror still further! Horri- 
 fied and trembling, I fled from that frightful place, and 
 returned to my room, shattered and sad at heart." 
 
 Catharine ceased, exhausted, and sank back into her 
 seat. 
 
 A breathless stillness reigned around. All faces were 
 pale and colorless. Gardiner and Wriothesley stood with 
 their eyes fixed, gloomy and defiant, expecting that the 
 king's wrath would crush and destroy them. 
 
 But the king scarcely thought of them; he thought 
 only of his fair young queen, whose boldness inspired him 
 with respect, and whose innocence and purity filled him 
 with a proud and blissful joy. 
 
 He was, therefore, very much inclined to forgive those 
 who in reality had committed no offence further than this,, 
 that they had carried out a little too literally and strictly 
 the orders of their master. 
 
 A long pause had ensued — a pause full of expectation 
 and anxiety for all who were assembled in the hall. Only 
 Catharine reclined calmly in her chair, and with beaming 
 eyes looked across to Thomas Seymour, whose handsome 
 countenance betrayed to her the gratification and satis- 
 faction which he felt at this clearing up of her mysterious- 
 night-wandering. 
 
 At last the king arose, and, bowing low before his con- 
 sort, said in a loud, full-toned voice: "I have deeply and 
 bitterly injured you, my noble wife; and as I publicly ac- 
 cused you, I will also publicly ask your forgiveness! You 
 have a right to be angry with me; for it behooved me,, 
 above all, to believe with unshaken firmness in the truth 
 and honor of my wife. My lady, you have made a bril- 
 liant vindication of yourself; and I, the king, first of all 
 bow before you, and beg that you may forgive me and 
 impose some penance." 
 
 " Leave it to me, queen, to impose a penance on this- 
 
 * Burnet's " History of the Reformation," vol. i, p. 132. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 271 
 
 repentant sinner!" cried John Hey wood, gayly. "Your 
 majesty is much too magnanimous, much too timid, to 
 treat him as roughly as my brother King Henry deserves. 
 Leave it to me, then, to punish him; for only the fool is 
 wise enough to punish the king after his deserts." 
 
 Catharine nodded to him with a grateful smile. She 
 comprehended perfectly John Heywood's delicacy and nice 
 tact; she apprehended that he wanted by a joke to relieve 
 her from her painful situation, and put an end to the 
 king's public acknowledgment, which at the same time 
 must turn to her bitter reproach — bitter, though it were 
 only self-reproach. 
 
 "Well," said she, smiling, "what punishment, then, 
 will you impose upon the king? " 
 
 " The punishment of recognizing the fool as his 
 equal!" 
 
 " God is my witness that I do so! " cried the king, al- 
 most solemnly. "Fools we are, one and all, and we fall 
 short of the renown which we have before men." 
 
 " But my sentence is not yet complete, brother! " con- 
 tinued John Heywood. " I furthermore give sentence, 
 that you also forthwith allow me to recite my poem to you, 
 and that you open your ears in order to hear what John 
 Heywood, the wise, has indited! " 
 
 " You have, then, fulfilled my command, and composed 
 a new interlude? " cried the king, vivaciously. 
 
 "No interlude, but a wholly novel, comical affair — a 
 play full of lampoons and jokes, at which your eyes are to 
 overflow, yet not with weeping, but with laughter. To 
 the right noble Earl of Surrey belongs the proud honor of 
 having presented to our happy England her first sonnets. 
 Well, now, I also will give her something new. I present 
 her the first comedy; and as he sings the beauty of his 
 Geraldine, so I celebrate the fame of Gammer Gurton's 
 sewing-needle — Gammer Gurton's needle — so my piece is 
 called; and you, King Henry, shall listen to it as a punish- 
 ment for your sins! " 
 
272 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUBT. 
 
 " I will do so," cried the king, cheerfully, " provided 
 you permit it, Kate! But before I do so, I make also one 
 more condition — a condition for you, queen! Kate, you 
 have disdained to impose a penance on me, but grant me 
 at least the pleasure of being allowed to fulfil some wish of 
 yours! Make me a request, that I may grant it you! * 
 
 " Well, then, my lord and king," said Catharine with a 
 charming smile, " I beg you to think no more of the inci- 
 dents of this day, and to forgive those whom I accused, 
 only because their accusation was my vindication. They 
 who brought charges against me have in this hour felt 
 contrition for their own fault. Let that suffice, king, 
 and forgive them, as I do! " 
 
 " You are a noble and great woman, Kate ! " cried the 
 king; and, as his glance swept over toward Gardiner with 
 an almost contemptuous expression, he continued: "Your 
 request is granted. But woe to them who shall dare 
 accuse you again! And have you nothing further to 
 demand, Kate ? * 
 
 " Nay, one thing more, my lord and husband! " She 
 leaned nearer to the king's ear, and whispered: " They 
 have also accused your noblest and most faithful servant; 
 they have accused Cranmer. Condemn him not, king, 
 without having heard him; and if I may beg a favor of 
 you, it is this: talk with Cranmer yourself. Tell him of 
 what they have charged him, and hear his vindication." 
 
 " It shall be so, Kate," said the king, " and you shall 
 be present! But let this be a secret between us, Kate, 
 and we will carry it out in perfect silence. And now, then, 
 John Hey wood, let us hear your composition; and woe to 
 you, if it does not accomplish what you promised — if it 
 does not make us laugh! For you well know that you are 
 then inevitably exposed to the rods of our injured ladies." 
 
 " They shall have leave to whip me to death, if I do 
 not make you laugh! " cried John Heywood, gayly, as he 
 drew out his manuscript. 
 
 Soon the hall rang again with loud laughter; and in 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 273 
 
 the universal merriment no one observed that Bishop Gar- 
 diner and Earl Douglas slipped quietly away. 
 
 In the anteroom without, they stopped and looked at 
 each other long and silently; their countenances expressed 
 the wrath and bitterness which filled them; and they un- 
 derstood this mute language of their features. 
 
 " She must die ! " said Gardiner in a short and quick 
 tone. " She has for once escaped from our snares; we will 
 tie them all the tighter next time ! " 
 
 "And I already hold in my hand the threads out of 
 which we will form these snares/' said Earl Douglas. " We 
 have to-day falsely accused her of a love-affair. When we 
 do it again, we shall speak the truth. Did you see the 
 looks that Catharine exchanged with the heretical Earl 
 Sudley, Thomas Seymour?" 
 
 " I saw them, earl! " 
 
 "For these looks she will die, my lord. The queen 
 loves Thomas Seymour, and this love will be her death." 
 
 " Amen! " said Bishop Gardiner, solemnly, as he raised 
 his eyes devoutly to heaven. "Amen! The queen has 
 grievously and bitterly injured us to-day; she has insulted 
 and abused us before all the court. We will requite her 
 for it some day! The torture-chamber, which she has de- 
 picted in such lively colors, may yet one day open for her, 
 too — not that she may behold another's agonies, but that 
 she may suffer agonies herself. We shall one day avenge 
 ourselves! " 
 
 CHAPTEK XXVI. 
 
 KEVENGE. 
 
 Miss Holland, the beautiful and much-admired mis- 
 tress of the Duke of Norfolk, was alone in her magnificent- 
 ly adorned boudoir. It was the hour when ordinarily the 
 
274 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 duke was wont to be with her; for this reason she was 
 charmingly attired, and had wrapped herself in that light 
 and voluptuous negligee which the duke so much liked, be- 
 cause it set off to so much advantage the splendid form of 
 his friend. 
 
 But to-day the expected one did not make his appear- 
 ance: in his stead his valet had just come and brought the 
 fair miss a note from his master. This note she was hold- 
 ing in her hand, while with passionate violence she now 
 walked up and down her boudoir. A glowing crimson 
 blazed upon her cheeks, and her large, haughty eyes dart- 
 ed wild flashes of wrath. 
 
 She was disdained — she, Lady Holland, was forced to 
 endure the disgrace of being dismissed by her lover. 
 
 There, there, in that letter which she held in her hand, 
 and which burned her fingers like red-hot iron — there 
 it stood in black and white, that he would see her no 
 more; that he renounced her love; that he released 
 her. 
 
 Her whole frame shook as she thought of this. It was 
 not the anguish of a loving heart which made her tremble; 
 it was the wounded pride of the woman. 
 
 He had abandoned her. Her beauty, her youth no 
 longer had the power to enchain him — the man with white 
 hairs and withered features. 
 
 He had written her that he was satiated and weary, not 
 of her, but only of love in general; that his heart had be- 
 come old and withered like his face; and that there was 
 still in his breast no more room for love, but only for am- 
 bition. 
 
 Was not that a revolting, an unheard-of outrage — to 
 abandon the finest woman in England for the sake of 
 empty, cold, stern ambition? 
 
 She opened the letter once more. Once more she read 
 that place. Then grinding her teeth with tears of anger 
 in her eyes: " He shall pay me for this! I will take ven- 
 geance for this insult! " 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 275 
 
 She thrust the letter into her bosom, and touched the 
 silver bell. 
 
 " Have my carriage brought round! " was her order to 
 the servant who entered; and he withdrew in silence. 
 
 " I will avenge myself! " muttered she, as with trem- 
 bling hands she wrapped herself in her large Turkish 
 shawl. "I will avenge myself; and, by the Eternal! it 
 shall be a bloody and swift vengeance! I will show him 
 that I, too, am ambitious, and that my pride is not to be 
 humbled. He says he will forget me. Oh, I will compel 
 him to think of me, even though it be only to curse me ! " 
 
 With hasty step she sped through the glittering apart- 
 ments, which the liberality of her lover had furnished so 
 magnificently, and descended to the carriage standing 
 ready for her. 
 
 "To the Duchess of Norfolk's! " said she to the foot- 
 man standing at the door of the carriage, as she entered it. 
 
 The servant looked at her in astonishment and in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 " To the Duke of Norfolk; is it not, my lady? " 
 
 "No, indeed, to the duchess! " cried she with a frown, 
 as she leaned back on the cushion. 
 
 After a short time, the carriage drew up before the 
 palace of the duchess, and with haughty tread and com- 
 manding air she passed through the porch. 
 
 "Announce me to the duchess immediately," was her 
 order to the lackey who was hurrying to meet her. 
 
 " Your name, my lady? " 
 
 "Miss Arabella Holland." 
 
 The servant stepped back, and stared at her in surprise. 
 "Miss Arabella Holland! and you order me to announce 
 you to the duchess? " 
 
 A contemptuous smile played a moment about the 
 thin lips of the beautiful miss. " I see you know me," 
 said she, " and you wonder a little to see me here. Won- 
 der as much as you please, good friend; only conduct me 
 immediately to the duchess." 
 
276 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " I doubt whether her ladyship receives calls to-day/* 
 stammered the servant, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Then go and ask; and, that I may learn her answer 
 as soon as possible, I will accompany you." 
 
 With a commanding air, she motioned to the servant to 
 go before her; and he could not summon up courage to 
 gainsay this proud beauty. 
 
 In silence they traversed the suite of stately apart- 
 ments, and at length stood before a door hung with tap- 
 estry. 
 
 " I must beg you to wait here a moment, my lady, so- 
 that I can announce you to the duchess, who is there in 
 her boudoir." 
 
 "No, indeed; I will assume that office myself," said 
 Miss Holland, as with strong hand she pushed back the 
 servant and opened the door. 
 
 The duchess was sitting at her writing-table, her back 
 turned to the door through which Arabella had entered. 
 She did not turn round; perhaps she had not heard the 
 door open. She continued quietly writing. 
 
 Miss Arabella Holland with stately step crossed the 
 room, and now stood close to the chair of the duchess. 
 
 " Duchess, I would like to speak with you," said she, 
 coolly and calmly. 
 
 The duchess uttered a cry and looked up. " Miss Hol- 
 land! " cried she amazed, and hastily rising. "Miss 
 Holland! you here with me, in my house! What do you 
 want here? How dare you cross my threshold? " 
 
 " I see you still hate me, my lady," said Arabella, smil- 
 ing. " You have not yet forgiven me that the duke, your 
 husband, found more delight in my young, handsome face, 
 than in yours, now growing old — that my sprightly, wan- 
 ton disposition pleased him better than your cold, stately 
 air." 
 
 The duchess turned pale with rage, and her eyes dart- 
 ed lightning. "Silence, you shameless creature! silence, 
 or I will call my servants to rid me of you! " 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 277 
 
 " You will not call them; for I have come to be recon- 
 ciled with you, and to offer you peace." 
 
 " Peace with you! " sneered the duchess — " peace with 
 that shameless woman who stole from me my husband, the 
 father of my children? — who loaded me with the disgrace 
 of standing before the whole world as a repudiated and 
 despised wife, and of suffering myself to be compared with 
 you, that the world might decide which of us two was 
 worthier of his love? Peace with you, Miss Holland? — 
 with the impudent strumpet who squanders my husband's 
 means in lavish luxury, and, with scoffing boldness, robs 
 my children of their lawful property? " 
 
 " It is true, the duke is very generous," said Miss Hol- 
 land, composedly. "He loaded me with diamonds and 
 gold." 
 
 " And meanwhile I was doomed almost to suffer want," 
 said the duchess, grinding her teeth. 
 
 "Want of love, it may be, my lady, but not want of 
 money; for you are very magnificently fitted up; and 
 every one knows that the Duchess of Norfolk is rich 
 enough to be able to spare the trifles that her husband 
 laid at my feet. By Heaven! my lady, I would not have* 
 deemed it worth the trouble to stoop for them, if I had not 
 seen among these trifles his heart. The heart of a man is 
 well worth a woman's stooping for! You have neglected 
 that, my lady, and therefore you lost your husband's heart. 
 I picked it up. That is all. Why will you make a crime 
 of that?" 
 
 " That is enough! " cried the duchess. " It does not 
 become me to dispute with you; I desire only to know 
 what gave you the courage to come to me? " 
 
 " My lady, do you hate me only? Or do you also hate 
 the duke your husband?" 
 
 " She asks me whether I hate him! " cried the duchess, 
 with a wild, scornful laugh. " Yes, Miss Holland, yes! I 
 hate him as ardently as I despise you. I hate him so 
 much that T would give my whole estate — ay, years of my 
 
278 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 life — if I could punish him for the disgrace he has put 
 upon me." 
 
 " Then, my lady, we shall soon understand each other; 
 for I too hate him," said Miss Holland, quietly seating her- 
 self on the velvet divan, and smiling as she observed the 
 speechless astonishment of the duchess. 
 
 "Yes, my lady, I hate him; and without doubt still 
 more ardently, still more intensely than you yourself; for 
 I am young and fiery; you are old, and have always man- 
 aged to preserve a cool heart." 
 
 The duchess was convulsed with rage; but silently, and 
 with an effort, she gulped down the drop of wormwood 
 which her wicked rival mingled in the cup of joy which 
 she presented to her. 
 
 "You do hate him, Miss Holland?" asked she, joy- 
 fully. 
 
 " I hate him, and I have come to league myself with 
 you against him. He is a traitor, a perfidious wretch, a 
 perjurer. I will take vengeance for my disgrace ! " 
 
 " Ah, has he then deserted you also? " 
 
 " He has deserted me also." 
 
 u Well, then, God be praised! " cried the duchess, and 
 her face beamed with joy. " God is great and just; and 
 He has punished you with the same weapons with which 
 you sinned! For your sake, he deserted me; and for the 
 sake of another woman, he forsakes you." 
 
 " Not so, my lady! " said Miss Holland, proudly. " A 
 woman like me is not forsaken on account of a woman; 
 and he who loves me will love no other after me. There, 
 read his letter! " 
 
 She handed the duchess her husband's letter. 
 
 " And what do you want to do now? " asked the duch- 
 ess, after she had read it. 
 
 " I will have revenge, my lady! He says he no longer 
 has a heart to love; well, now, we will so manage, that he 
 may no longer have a head to think. Will you be my ally, 
 my lady? " 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 279 
 
 * I will." 
 
 "And I also will be," said the Duchess of Kichmond, 
 who just then opened the door and came out of the ad- 
 joining room. 
 
 Not a word of this entire conversation had escaped her, 
 and she very well understood that the question was not 
 about some petty vengeance, but her father's head. She 
 knew that Miss Holland was not a woman that, when irri- 
 tated, pricked with a pin; but one that grasped the dag- 
 ger to strike her enemy a mortal blow. 
 
 "Yes, I too will be your ally," cried the Duchess of 
 Bichmond; " we have all three been outraged by the same 
 man. Let, then, our revenge be a common one. The 
 father has insulted you; the son, me. Well, then, I will 
 lielp you to strike the father, if you in return will assist 
 me to destroy the son." 
 
 " I will assist you," said Arabella, smiling; " for I also 
 hate the haughty Earl of Surrey, who prides himself on his 
 virtue, as if it were a golden fleece which God himself had 
 stuck on his breast. I hate him; for he never meets me 
 but with proud disregard; and he alone is to blame for his 
 father's faithlessness." 
 
 " I was present when with tears he besought the duke, 
 our father, to free himself from your fetters, and give up 
 this shameful and disgraceful connection with you," said 
 the young duchess. 
 
 Arabella answered nothing. But she pressed her 
 hands firmly together, and a slight pallor overspread her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " And why are you angry with your brother? " asked 
 the old duchess, thoughtfully. 
 
 . « Why am I angry with him, do you ask, my mother? 
 I am not angry with him; but I execrate him, and I have 
 sworn to myself never to rest till I have avenged myself. 
 My happiness, my heart, and my future, lay in his hands; 
 and he has remorselessly trodden under his haughty feet 
 these — his sister's precious treasures. It lay with him to 
 
280 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 make me the wife of the man I love; and he has not done 
 it, though I lay at his feet weeping and wringing my 
 hands." 
 
 " But it was a great sacrifice that you demanded," said 
 her mother. " He had to give his hand to a woman he did 
 not love, so that you might be Thomas Seymour's wife." 
 
 " Mother, you defend him; and yet he it is that blames 
 you daily; and but yesterday it seemed to him perfectly 
 right and natural that the duke had forsaken you, our 
 mother." 
 
 " Did he do that? " inquired the duchess, vehemently. 
 " Well, now, as he has forgotten that I am his mother, so 
 will I forget that he is my son. I am your ally! Eevenge 
 for our injured hearts! Vengeance on father and son! " 
 
 She held out both hands, and the two young women 
 laid their hands in hers. 
 
 "Vengeance on father and son!" repeated they both; 
 and their eyes flashed, and crimson now mantled their 
 cheeks. 
 
 " I am tired of living like a hermit in my palace, and of 
 being banished from court by the fear that I may en- 
 counter my husband there." 
 
 "You shall encounter him there no more," said her 
 daughter, laconically. 
 
 " They shall not laugh and jeer at me," cried Arabella* 
 " And when they learn that he has forsaken me, they shall 
 also know how I have avenged myself for it." 
 
 " Thomas Seymour can never become my husband so 
 long as Henry Howard lives; for he has mortally offended 
 him, as Henry has rejected the hand of his sister. Per- 
 haps I may become his wife, if Henry Howard is no more," 
 said the young duchess. " So let us consider. How shall 
 we begin, so as to strike them surely and certainly? " 
 
 " When three women are agreed, they may well be cer- 
 tain of their success," said Arabella, shrugging her shoul- 
 ders. "We live — God be praised for it — under a noble 
 and high-minded king, who beholds the blood of his sub- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 281 
 
 jects with as much pleasure as he does the crimson of his 
 royal man tie, and who has never yet shrunk back when a 
 death-warrant was to be signed." 
 
 " But this time he will shrink back," said the old duch- 
 ess. " He will not dare to rob the noblest and most power- 
 ful family of his kingdom of its head." 
 
 " That very risk will stimulate him," said the Duchess 
 of Eichmond, laughing; " and the more difficult it is to 
 bring down these heads, so much the more impatiently will 
 he hanker after it. The king hates them both, and he 
 will thank us, if we change his hatred into retributive jus- 
 tice." 
 
 " Then let us accuse both of high treason! " cried Ara- 
 bella. " The duke is a traitor; for I will and can swear 
 that he has often enough called the king a bloodthirsty 
 tiger, a relentless tyrant, a man without truth and without 
 faith, although he coquettishly pretends to be the foun- 
 tain and rock of all faith." 
 
 " If he has said that, and you have heard him, you are 
 in duty bound to communicate it to the king, if you do not 
 want to be a traitoress yourself," exclaimed the young 
 duchess, solemnly. 
 
 "And have you not noticed that the duke has for 
 some time borne the same coat-of-arms as the king? " 
 asked the Duchess of Norfolk. u It is not enough for his 
 haughty and ambitious spirit to be the first servant of this 
 land; he strives to be lord and king of it." 
 
 " Tell that to the king, and by to-morrow the head of 
 the traitor falls. For the king is as jealous of his king- 
 dom as ever a woman was of her lover. Tell him that 
 the duke bears his coat-of-arms, and his destruction is 
 certain." 
 
 " I will tell him so, daughter." 
 
 " We are sure of the father, but what have we for the 
 son? " 
 
 * A sure and infallible means, that will as certainly dis- 
 patch him into eternity as the hunter's tiny bullet slays 
 19 
 
282 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 the proudest stag. Henry loves the queen; and I will 
 furnish the king proof of that," said the young duchess. 
 
 " Then let us go to the king! " cried Arabella, impetu- 
 ously. 
 
 "No, indeed! That would make a sensation, and 
 might easily frustrate our whole plan/' said the Duchess of 
 Kichmond. "Let us first talk with Earl Douglas, and 
 hear his advice. Come; every minute is precious! We 
 owe it to our womanly honor to avenge ourselves. We- 
 cannot and will not leave unpunished those who have 
 despised our love, wounded our honor, and trodden under 
 foot the holiest ties of nature! " 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 THE ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 
 
 The Princess Elizabeth was sitting in her room, melan- 
 choly and absorbed in thought. Her eyes were red with 
 weeping; and she pressed her hand on her heart, as if she 
 would repress its cry of anguish. 
 
 With a disconsolate, perplexed look she gazed around 
 her chamber, and its solitude was doubly painful to her to- 
 day, for it testified to her forsaken condition, to the dis- 
 grace that still rested on her. For were it not so, to-day 
 would have been to the whole court a day of rejoicing, of 
 congratulations. 
 
 To-day was Elizabeth's birthday; fourteen years ago 
 to-day, Anne Boleyn's daughter had seen the light of this 
 world. 
 
 " Anne Boleyn's daughter! " That was the secret of 
 her seclusion. That was why none of the ladies and lords 
 of the court had remembered her birthday; for that would 
 have been at the same time a remembrance of Anne 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 283 
 
 Boleyn, of Elizabeth's beautiful and unfortunate mother^ 
 who had been made to atone for her grandeur and prosper- 
 ity by her death. 
 
 Moreover, the king had called his daughter Elizabeth a 
 bastard, and solemnly declared her unworthy of succeeding 
 to the throne. 
 
 Her birthday, therefore, was to Elizabeth only a day of 
 humiliation and pain. Reclining on her divan, she 
 thought of her despised and joyless past, of her desolate 
 and inglorious future. 
 
 She was a princess, and yet possessed not the rights of 
 her birth; she was a young maiden, and yet doomed, in 
 sad resignation, to renounce all the delights and enjoy- 
 ments of youth, and to condemn her passionate and ardent 
 heart to the eternal sleep of death. For when the Infante 
 of Spain sued for her hand, Henry the Eighth had de- 
 clared that the bastard Elizabeth was unworthy of a 
 princely husband. But in order to intimidate other suit- 
 ors also, he had loudly and openly declared that no subject 
 should dare be so presumptuous as to offer his hand to one 
 of his royal daughters, and he who dared to solicit them in 
 marriage should be punished as a traitor. 
 
 So Elizabeth was condemned to remain unmarried; 
 and nevertheless she loved; nevertheless she harbored only 
 this one wish, to be the wife of her beloved, and to be able 
 to exchange the proud title of princess for the name of 
 Countess Seymour. 
 
 Since she loved him, a new world, a new sun had arisen 
 on her; and before the sweet and enchanting, whispers of 
 her love, even the proud and alluring voices of her am- 
 bition had to be silent. She no longer thought of it, that 
 she would never be a queen; she was only troubled that 
 she could not be Seymour's wife. 
 
 She no longer wanted to rule, but she wanted to be 
 happy. But her happiness reposed on him alone — on 
 Thomas Seymour. 
 
 Such were her thoughts, as she was in her chamber 
 
■284 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 on the morning of her birthday, alone and lonely; and 
 her eyes reddened by tears, her painfully convulsed 
 lips, betrayed how much she had wept to-day; how 
 much this young girl of fourteen years had already suf- 
 iered. 
 
 But she would think no more about it; she would not 
 allow the lurking, everywhere-prying, malicious, and 
 wicked courtiers the triumph of seeing the traces of her 
 tears, and rejoicing at her pains and her humiliation. She 
 was a proud and resolute soul; she would rather have died 
 than to have accepted the sympathy and pity of the 
 courtiers. 
 
 " I will work/' said she. * Work is the best balm for 
 all pains." 
 
 And she took up the elaborate silk embroidery which 
 she had begun for her poor, unfortunate friend, Anne of 
 Cleves, Henry's divorced wife. But the work occupied 
 only her fingers, not her thoughts. 
 
 She threw it aside and seized her books. She took Pe- 
 trarch's Sonnets; and his love plaints and griefs enchained 
 and stirred her own love-sick heart. 
 
 With streaming tears, and yet smiling and full of sweet 
 melancholy, Elizabeth read these noble and tender poems. 
 It appeared to her as if Petrarch had only said what she 
 herself so warmly felt. There were her thoughts, her 
 griefs. He had said them in his language; she must now 
 repeat them in her own. She seated herself, and with 
 hands trembling with enthusiasm, fluttering breath, per- 
 fectly excited and glowing, in glad haste she began a trans- 
 lation of Petrarch's first sonnet.* 
 
 * Elizabeth, who even as a girl of twelve years old spoke four 
 languages, was very fond of composing verses, and of translating 
 the poems of foreign authors. But she kept her skill in this respect 
 very secret, and was always very angry if any one by chance saw one 
 of her poems. After her death there were found among her papers 
 many translations, especially of Petrarch's Sonnets, which were the 
 work of her earliest youth. — Leti, vol. i, p. 150. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 285 
 
 A loud knock interrupted her; and in the hastily 
 opened door now appeared the lovely form of the queen. 
 
 " The queen! " exclaimed Elizabeth with delight. 
 u Have you come to me at such an early morning hour? " 
 
 * And should I wait till evening to wish my Elizabeth 
 happiness on her festival? Should I first let the sun go 
 down on this day, which gave to England so noble and so 
 fair a princess?" asked Catharine. "Or you thought, 
 perhaps, I did not know that this was your birthday, and 
 that to-day my Elizabeth advances from the years of child- 
 hood, as a proud maiden full of hope? " 
 
 "Full of hope?" said Elizabeth, sadly. "Anne 
 Boleyn's daughter has no hopes; and when you speak of 
 my birthday, you remind me at the same time of my. de- 
 spised birth! " 
 
 " It shall be despised no longer! " said Catharine, and, 
 as she put her arm tenderly around Elizabeth's neck, she 
 handed her a roll of parchment. 
 
 " Take that, Elizabeth; and may this paper be to you 
 the promise of a joyful and brilliant future! At my re- 
 quest, the king has made this law, and he therefore grant- 
 ed me the pleasure of bringing it to you." 
 
 Elizabeth opened the parchment and read, and a ra- 
 diant expression overspread her countenance. 
 
 " Acknowledged! I am acknowledged! " cried she. 
 " The disgrace of my birth is taken away! Elizabeth is no 
 more a bastard — she is a royal princess! " 
 
 " And she may some day be a queen! " said Catharine, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Oh," cried Elizabeth, " it is not that which stirs me 
 with such joy. But the disgrace of my birth is taken 
 away; and I may freely hold up my head and name my 
 mother's name! Now thou mayst sleep calmly in thy 
 grave, for it is no longer dishonored! Anne Boleyn was 
 no strumpet; she was King Henry's lawful wife, and Eliza- 
 beth is the king's legitimate daughter! I thank Thee, my 
 Ood— I thank Thee!" 
 
286 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 And the young, passionate girl threw herself on her 
 knees, and raised her hands and her eyes to heaven. 
 
 " Spirit of my glorified mother/' said she, solemnly, " I 
 call thee! Come to me! Overshadow me with thy smile, 
 and bless me with thy breath! Queen Anne of England, 
 thy daughter is no longer a bastard, and no one dares ven- 
 ture more to insult her. Thou wert with me when I wept 
 and suffered, my mother; and often in my disgrace and 
 humiliation, it was as if I heard thy voice, which whispered 
 comfort to me; as if I saw thy heavenly eyes, which poured 
 peace and love into my breast! Oh, abide with me now 
 also, my mother — now, when my disgrace is taken away, 
 abide with me in my prosperity; and guard my heart, that 
 it may be kept pure from arrogance and pride, and remain 
 humble in its joy! Anne Boleyn, they laid thy beautiful, 
 innocent head upon the block; but this parchment sets 
 upon it again the royal crown; and woe, woe to those who 
 will now still dare insult thy memory! " 
 
 She sprang from her knees and rushed to the wall op- 
 posite, on which was a large oil painting, which represent- 
 ed Elizabeth herself as a child playing with a dog. 
 
 " Oh, mother, mother! " said she, " this picture was 
 the last earthly thing on which thy looks rested; and to 
 these painted lips of thy child thou gavest thy last kiss, 
 which thy cruel hangman would not allow to thy living 
 child. Oh, let me sip up this last kiss from that spot; let 
 me touch with my mouth the spot that thy lips have conse- 
 crated! * 
 
 She bent down and kissed the picture. 
 
 " And now come forth out of thy grave, my mother," 
 said she, solemnly. " I have been obliged so long to hide, 
 so long to veil thee! Now thou belongest to the world 
 and to the light! The king has acknowledged me as his 
 lawful daughter; he cannot refuse me to have a likeness 
 of my mother in my room." 
 
 As she thus spoke, she pressed on a spring set in the 
 broad gilt frame of the picture; and suddenly the painting 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 28T 
 
 was seen to move and slowly open like a door, so as to ren- 
 der visible another picture concealed beneath it, which 
 represented the unfortunate Anne Boleyn in bridal attire, 
 in the full splendor of her beauty, as Holbein had painted 
 her, at the desire of her husband the king. 
 
 "How beautiful and angelic that countenance is!" 
 said Catharine, stepping nearer. "How innocent and 
 pure those features! Poor queen! Yet thine enemies 
 succeeded in casting suspicion on thee and bringing thee 
 to the scaffold. Oh, when I behold thee, I shudder; and 
 my own future rises up before me like a threatening spec- 
 tre! Who can believe herself safe and secure, when Anne 
 Boleyn was not secure; when even she had to die a dis- 
 honorable death? Ah, do but believe me, Elizabeth, it is 
 a melancholy lot to be Queen of England; and often in- 
 deed have I asked the morning whether I, as still Queen of 
 England, shall greet the evening. But no — we will not 
 talk of myself in this hour, but only of you, Elizabeth — of 
 your future and of your fortune. May this document be 
 acceptable to you, and realize all the wishes that slumber 
 in your bosom! " 
 
 " One great wish of mine it has fulfilled already," said 
 Elizabeth, still occupied with the picture. " It allows me 
 to show my mother's likeness unveiled! That I could one 
 day do so was her last prayer and last wish, which she in- 
 trusted to John Hey wood for me. To him she committed 
 this picture. He alone knew the secret of it, and he has 
 faithfully preserved it." 
 
 " Oh, John Heywood is a trusty and true friend," said 
 Catharine, heartily; " and it was he who assisted me in 
 inclining the king to our plan and in persuading him to 
 acknowledge you." 
 
 With an unutterable expression Elizabeth presented 
 both hands to her. " I thank you for my honor, and the 
 honor of my mother," said she; " I will love you for it as 
 a daughter; and never shall your enemies find with me an 
 open ear and a willing heart. Let us two conclude with 
 
288 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 each other a league offensive and defensive! Let us keep 
 true to each other; and the enemies of the one shall be 
 the enemies of the other also. And where we see danger 
 we will combat it in common; and we will watch over 
 each other with a true sisterly eye, and warn one another 
 whenever a chance flash brings to light an enemy who is 
 stealing along in the darkness, and wants with his dagger 
 to assassinate us from behind/' 
 
 "So be it!" said Catharine, solemnly. "We will re- 
 main inseparable, and true to one another, and love each 
 other as sisters! " 
 
 And as she imprinted a warm kiss on Elizabeth's lips, 
 she continued: " But now, princess, direct your looks once 
 more to that document, of which at first you read only 
 the beginning. Do but believe me, it is important enough 
 for you to read it quite to the end; for it contains various 
 arrangements for your future, and settles on you a suite 
 and a yearly allowance, as is suitable for a royal princess." 
 
 "Oh, what care I for these things?" cried Elizabeth, 
 merrily. " That is my major-domo's concern, and he may 
 attend to it." 
 
 " But there is yet another paragraph that will interest 
 you more," said Catharine, with a slight smile; " for it is a 
 full and complete reparation to my proud and ambitious 
 Elizabeth. You recollect the answer which your father 
 gave to the King of France when he solicited your hand 
 for the dauphin?" 
 
 "Do I recollect it!" cried Elizabeth, her features 
 quickly becoming gloomy. "King Henry said: 'Anne 
 Boleyn's daughter is not worthy to accept the hand of a 
 royal prince.' " 
 
 "Well, then, Elizabeth, that the reparation made to 
 you may be complete, the king, while he grants you your 
 lawful title and honor, has decreed that you are permitted 
 to marry only a husband of equal birth; to give your hand 
 only to a royal prince, if you would preserve your right 
 of succeeding to the throne. Oh, certainly, there could 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 289 
 
 "be no more complete recantation of the affront once put 
 upon you. And that he consented to do this, you owe to 
 the eloquent intercession of a true and trusty friend; you 
 have John Heywood to thank for it." 
 
 "John Heywood!" cried Elizabeth, in a bitter tone. 
 " Oh, I thank you, queen, that it was not you who deter- 
 mined my father to this decision. John Heywood did it, 
 and you call him my friend? You say that he is a true 
 and devoted servant to us both? Beware of his fidelity, 
 queen, and build not on his devotedness; for I tell you his 
 soul is full of falsehood; and while he appears to bow be- 
 fore you in humbleness, his eyes are only searching for the 
 place on your heel where he can strike you most surely 
 and most mortally. Oh, he is a serpent, a venomous ser- 
 pent; and he has just wounded me mortally and incurably. 
 But no," continued she, energetically, " I will not submit 
 to this fraud; I will not be the slave of this injurious law! 
 I will be free to love and to hate as my heart demands; I 
 will not be shackled, nor be compelled to renounce this 
 man, whom I perhaps love, and to marry that one, whom I 
 perhaps abhor." 
 
 With an expression of firm, energetic resolve, she took 
 the roll of parchment and handed it back to Catharine. 
 
 " Queen, take this parchment back again; return it to 
 my father, and tell him that I thank him for his provident 
 goodness, but will decline the brilliant lot which this act 
 offers me. I love freedom so much, that even a royal 
 crown cannot allure me when I am to receive it with my 
 hands bound and my heart not free." 
 
 "Poor child!" sighed Catharine, "you know not, 
 then, that the royal crown always binds us in fetters and 
 compresses our heart in iron clamps? Ah, you want to 
 be free, and yet a queen! Oh, believe me, Elizabeth, none 
 are less free than sovereigns! No one has less the right 
 and the power to live according to the dictates of his heart 
 than a prince." 
 
 " Then/'* exclaimed Elizabeth, with flashing eyes, 
 
•290 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " then I renounce the melancholy fortune of being, per- 
 chance, one day queen. Then 1 do not subscribe to this 
 law, which wants to guide my heart and limit my will. 
 What! shall the daughter of King Henry of England allow 
 her ways to be traced out by a miserable strip of parch- 
 ment? and shall a sheet of paper be able to intrude itself 
 between me and my heart? I am a royal princess; and 
 why will they compel me to give my hand only to a king's 
 .son? Ay, you are right; it is not my father that has made 
 this law, for my father's proud soul has never been willing 
 to submit to any such constraint of miserable etiquette. 
 He has loved where he pleased; and no Parliament — no 
 law — has been able to hinder him in this respect. I will be 
 my father's own daughter. I will not submit to this law! " 
 
 "Poor child!" said Catharine, "nevertheless you will 
 be obliged to learn well how to submit; for one is not a 
 princess without paying for it. No one asks whether our 
 heart bleeds. They throw a purple robe over it, and 
 though it be reddened with our heart's blood, who then 
 sees and suspects it? You are yet so young, Elizabeth; 
 you yet hope so much! " 
 
 "I hope so much, because I have already suffered so 
 much — my eyes have been already made to shed so many 
 tears. I have already in my childhood had to take before- 
 hand my share of the pain and sorrow of life; now I will 
 demand my share of life's pleasure and enjoyment also." 
 
 " And who tells you that you shall not have it? This 
 love forces on you no particular husband; it but gives you 
 the proud right, once disputed, of seeking your husband 
 among the princes of royal blood." 
 
 * Oh," cried Elizabeth, with flashing eyes, " if I should 
 ever really be a queen, I should be prouder to choose a 
 husband whom I might make a king, than such a one -as 
 would make me a queen.* Oh, say yourself, Catharine, 
 must it not be a high and noble pleasure to confer glory 
 and greatness on one we love, to raise him in the omnipo- 
 
 * Elizabeth's own words. — Leti, vol. ii, p. 62. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 291 
 
 tence of our love high above all other men, and to lay our 
 own greatness, our own glory, humbly at his feet, that 
 he may be adorned therewith and make his own possession 
 what is ours?" 
 
 " By Heaven, you are as proud and ambitious as a 
 man!" said Catharine, smiling. "Your father's own 
 daughter! So thought Henry when he gave his hand to 
 Anne Boleyn; so thought he when he exalted me to be 
 his queen. But it behooves him thus to think and act, for 
 he is a man." 
 
 "He thought thus, because he loved — not because he 
 was a man." 
 
 " And you, too, Elizabeth — do you, too, think thus be- 
 cause you love ? " 
 
 " Yes, I love ! " exclaimed Elizabeth, as with an im- 
 pulsive movement she threw herself into Catharine's arms, 
 and hid her blushing face in the queen's bosom. " Yes, I 
 love! I love like my father — regardless of my rank, of my 
 birth; but feeling only that my lover is of equally high 
 birth in the nobility of -his sentiment, in his genius and 
 noble mind; that he is my superior in all the great and 
 fine qualities which should adorn a man, and yet are con- 
 ferred on so few. Judge now, queen, whether that law 
 there can make me happy. He whom I love is no prince 
 — no son of a king." 
 
 " Poor Elizabeth! " said Catharine, clasping the young 
 girl fervently in her arms. 
 
 " And why do you bewail my fate, when it is in your 
 power to make me happy? " asked Elizabeth, urgently. 
 " It was you who prevailed on the king to relieve me of 
 the disgrace that rested on me; you will also have power 
 over him to set aside this clause which contains my heart's" 
 sentence of condemnation." 
 
 Catharine shook her head with a sigh. "My power 
 does not reach so far," said she, sadly. " Ah, Elizabeth, 
 why did you not put confidence in me? Why did you not 
 let me know sooner that your heart cherished a love which 
 
292 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 is in opposition to this law? Why did you not tell your 
 friend your dangerous secret? " 
 
 " Just because it is dangerous I concealed it from you; 
 and just on that account I do not even now mention the 
 name of the loved one. Queen, you shall not through me 
 become a guilty traitoress against your husband; for you 
 well know that he punishes every secret concealed from 
 him as an act of high treason. No, queen; if I am a 
 criminal, you shall not be my accomplice. Ah, it is always 
 dangerous to be the confidant of such a secret. You see 
 that in John Heywood. He alone was my confidant, and 
 he betrayed me. I myself put the weapons into his hands, ( 
 and he turned them against me." 
 
 "No, no," said Catharine, thoughtfully; "John Hey- 
 wood is true and trusty, and incapable of treachery." 
 
 " He has betrayed me ! " exclaimed Elizabeth, impetu- 
 ously. " He knew — he only — that I love, and that my 
 beloved, though of noble, still is not of princely birth. 
 Yet it was he, as you said yourself, who moved the 
 king to introduce this paragraph into the act of succes- 
 sion." 
 
 " Then, without doubt, he has wished to save you 
 from an error of your heart." 
 
 " No, he has been afraid of the danger of being privy 
 to this secret, and at the cost of my heart and my happi- 
 ness he wanted to escape this danger. But oh, Catharine, 
 you are a noble, great and strong woman; you are incapa- 
 ble of such petty fear — such low calculation; therefore, 
 stand by me; be my savior and protectress! By virtue of 
 that oath which we have just now mutually taken — by 
 virtue of that mutual clasp of the hands just given — I call 
 you to my help and my assistance. Oh, Catharine, allow 
 me this high pleasure, so full of blessing, of being at some 
 time, perhaps, able to make him whom I love great andi 
 powerful by my will. Allow me this intoxicating delight 
 of being able with my hand to offer to his ambition at once- 
 power and glory — it may be even a crown. Oh, Catharine, 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 293 
 
 on my knees I conjure you — assist me to repeal this hated 
 law, which wants to bind my heart and my hand! " 
 
 In passionate excitement she had fallen before the 
 queen, and was holding up her hands imploringly to her. 
 
 Catharine, smiling, bent down and raised her up in her 
 arms. "Enthusiast," said she, "poor young enthusiast!: 
 Who knows whether you will thank me for it one day, if I 
 accede to your wish; and whether you will not some time: 
 curse this hour which has brought you, perhaps, instead 
 of the hoped-for pleasure, only a knowledge of your de- 
 lusion and misery?" 
 
 " And were it even so," cried Elizabeth, energetically,, 
 " still it is better to endure a wretchedness we ourselves 
 have chosen, than to be forced to a happy lot. Say, Catha- 
 rine — say, will you lend me your assistance? Will you in- 
 duce the king to withdraw this hated clause ? If you do it 
 not, queen, I swear to you, by the soul of my mother, that 
 I will not submit to this law; that I will solemnly, before- 
 all the world, renounce the privilege that is offered me; 
 that I " 
 
 " You are a dear, foolish child," interrupted Catha- 
 rine — " a child, that in youthful presumption might dare 
 wish to fetch the lightnings down from heaven, and bor- 
 row from Jupiter his thunderbolt. Oh, you are still too 
 young and inexperienced to know that fate regards not 
 our murmurs and our sighs, and, despite our reluctance- 
 and our refusal, still leads us in its own ways, not our 
 own. You will have to learn that yet, poor child! " 
 
 "But I will not!" cried Elizabeth, stamping on the 
 floor with all the pettishness of a child. " I will not ever 
 and eternally be the victim of another's will; and fate it- 
 self shall not have power to make me its slave ! " 
 
 "Well, we will see now," said Catharine, smiling.. 
 "We will try this time, at least, to contend against fate; 
 and I will assist you if I can." 
 
 " And I will love you for it as my mother and my sister 
 at once," cried Elizabeth, as with ardor she threw herself 
 
294: IIENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 into Catharine's arms. " Yes, I will love you for it; and 
 I will pray God that He may one day give me the oppor- 
 tunity to show my gratitude, and to reward you for your 
 magnanimity and goodness." 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 INTRIGUES. 
 
 For a few days past the king's gout had grown worse/ 
 and, to his wrath and grief, it confined him as a prisoner to 
 his rolling chair. 
 
 The king was, therefore, very naturally gloomy and de- 
 jected, and hurled the lightnings of his wrath on all those 
 who enjoyed the melancholy prerogative of being in his 
 presence. His pains, instead of softening his disposition, 
 seemed only to heighten still more his natural ferocity; 
 and often might be heard through the palace of White- 
 hall the king's angry growl, and his loud, thundering in- 
 vectives, which no longer spared any one, nor showed re- 
 spect for any rank or dignity. 
 
 Earl Douglas, Gardiner, and Wriothesley very well 
 knew how to take advantage of this wrathful humor of the 
 king for their purposes, and to afford the cruel monarch, 
 tortured with pain, one satisfaction at least — the satisfac- 
 tion of making others suffer also. 
 
 Neyer had there been seen in England so many burnt* 
 at the stake as in those days of the king's sickness; never 
 had the prisons been so crowded; never had so much blood 
 flowed as King Henry now caused to be shed.* 
 
 * During the king's reign, and at the instigation of the clergy, 
 twenty-eight hundred persons were burnt and executed, because they 
 would not recognize the religious institutions established by the king 
 as the only right and true ones. — Leti, vol. i, p. 34. 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT.   295 
 
 But all this did not yet suffice to appease the blood- 
 thirstiness of the king, and his friends and counsellors, and 
 his priests. 
 
 Still there remained untouched two mighty pillars of 
 Protestantism that Gardiner and Wriothesley had to over- 
 throw. These were the queen and Archbishop Cranmer. 
 
 Still there were two powerful and hated enemies whom 
 the Seymours had to overcome; these were the Duke of 
 Norfolk and his son, the Earl of Surrey. 
 
 But the various parties that in turn besieged the 
 king's ear and controlled it, were in singular and unheard- 
 of opposition, and at the same time inflamed with bitter- 
 est enmity, and they strove to supplant each other in the 
 favor of the king. 
 
 To the popish party of Gardiner and Earl Douglas, 
 everything depended on dispossessing the Seymours of 
 the king's favor; and they, on the other hand, wanted 
 above all things to continue in power the young queen, al- 
 ready inclined to them, and to destroy for the papists one 
 of their most powerful leaders, the Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 The one party controlled the king's ear through the 
 queen; the other, through his favorite, Earl Douglas. 
 
 Never had the king been more gracious and affable to 
 his consort — never had he required more Earl Douglas's 
 presence than in those days of his sickness and bodily 
 anguish. 
 
 But there was yet a third party that occupied an im- 
 portant place in the king's favor — a power which every one 
 feared, and which seemed to keep itself perfectly inde- 
 pendent and free from all foreign influences. This power 
 was John Heywood, the king's fool, the epigrammatist, 
 who was dreaded by the whole court. 
 
 Only one person had influence with him. John Hey- 
 wood was the friend of the queen. For the moment, then, 
 it appeared as if the u heretical party," of which the queen 
 was regarded as the head, was the most powerful at court. 
 
 It was therefore very natural for the popish party to 
 
296 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 cherish an ardent hatred against the queen; very natural 
 for them to be contriving new plots and machinations to 
 ruin her and hurl her from the throne. 
 
 But Catharine knew very well the danger that threat- 
 ened her, and she was on her guard. She watched her 
 every look, her every word; and Gardiner and Douglas 
 could not examine the queen's manner of life each day and 
 hour more suspiciously than she herself did. 
 
 She saw the sword that hung daily over her head; and, 
 thanks to her prudence and presence of mind, thanks to 
 the ever-thoughtful watchfulness and cunning of her 
 friend Hey wood! she had still known how to avoid the 
 falling of that sword. 
 
 Since that fatal ride in the wood of Epping Forest, she 
 had not again spoken to Thomas Seymour alone; for Cath- 
 arine very well knew that everywhere, whithersoever she 
 turned her steps, some spying eye might follow her, some 
 listener's ear might be concealed, which might hear her 
 words, however softly whispered, and repeat them where 
 they might be interpreted into a sentence of death against 
 her. 
 
 She had, therefore, renounced the pleasure of speaking 
 to her lover otherwise than before witnesses, and of seeing 
 him otherwise than in the presence of her whole court. 
 
 "What need had she either for secret meetings? What 
 mattered it to her pure and innocent heart that she was 
 not permitted to be alone with him? Still she might see 
 him, and drink courage and delight from the sight of his 
 haughty and handsome face; still she might be near him, 
 and could listen to the music of his voice, and intoxicate 
 her heart with his fine, euphonious and vigorous discourse. 
 
 Catharine, the woman of eight-and-twenty, had pre- 
 served the enthusiasm and innocence of a young girl of 
 fourteen. Thomas Seymour was her first love; and she 
 loved him with that purity and guileless warmth which is 
 indeed peculiar to the first love only. 
 
 It sufficed her, therefore- to see him; to be near him; 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 297 
 
 to know that he loved her; that he was true to her; that 
 all his thoughts and wishes belonged to her, as hers to him. 
 
 And that she knew. For there ever remained to her 
 the sweet enjoyment of his letters — of those passionately 
 written avowals of his love. If she was not permitted 
 to say also to him how warmly and ardently she returned 
 this love, yet she could write it to him. 
 
 It was John Heywood, the true and discreet friend, 
 that brought her these letters, and bore her answers to 
 him, stipulating, as a reward for this dangerous commis- 
 sion, that they both should regard him as the sole confi- 
 dant of their love; that both should burn up the letters 
 which he brought them. He had not been able to hinder 
 Catharine from this unhappy passion, but wanted at least 
 to preserve her from the fatal consequences of it. Since 
 he knew that this love needed a confidant, he assumed this 
 role, that Catharine, in the vehemence of her passion and 
 in the simplicity of her innocent heart, might not make 
 others sharers of her dangerous secret. 
 
 John Heywood therefore watched over Catharine's 
 safety and happiness, as she watched over Thomas Sey- 
 mour and her friends. He protected and guarded her 
 with the king, as she guarded Cranmer, and protected him 
 from the constantly renewed assaults of his enemies. 
 
 This it was that they could never forgive the queen — 
 that she had delivered Cranmer, the noble and liberal- 
 minded Archbishop of Canterbury, from their snares. 
 More than once Catharine had succeeded in destroying 
 their intriguing schemes, and in rending the nets that 
 Gardiner and Earl Douglas, with so sly and skilful a hand, 
 had spread for Cranmer. 
 
 If, therefore, they would overthrow Cranmer, they 
 must first overthrow the queen. For this there was a real 
 means — a means of destroying at once the queen and the 
 hated Seymours, who stood in the way of the papists. 
 
 if they could prove to the king that Catharine enter- 
 tained criminal intercourse with Thomas Seymour, then 
 20 
 
298 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 were they both lost; then were the power and glory of the 
 papists secured. 
 
 But whence to fetch the proofs of this dangerous se- 
 cret, which the crafty Douglas had read only in Catharine's 
 eyes, and for which he had no other support than his bare 
 conviction? How should they begin to influence the 
 queen to some inconsiderate step, to a speaking witness of 
 her love? 
 
 Time hung so heavily on the king's hands! It would 
 have been so easy to persuade him to some cruel deed — to 
 a hasty sentence of death! 
 
 But it was not the blood of the Seymours for which 
 the king thirsted. Earl Douglas very well knew that. 
 He who observed the king day and night — he who exam- 
 ined and sounded his every sigh, each of his softly mur- 
 mured words, every twitch of his mouth, every wrinkle of 
 his brow — he well knew what dark and bloody thoughts 
 stirred the king's soul, and whose blood it was for which 
 he thirsted. 
 
 The royal tiger would drink the blood of the How- 
 ards; and that they still lived in health, and abun- 
 dance, and glory, while he, their king and master, lonely 
 and sad, was tossing on his couch in pain and agony — 
 that was the worm which gnawed at the king's heart, 
 which made his pains yet more painful, his tortures yet 
 keener. 
 
 The king was jealous — jealous of the power and great- 
 ness of the Howards. It filled him with gloomy hatred to 
 think that the Duke of Norfolk, when he rode through 
 the streets of London, was everywhere received with the 
 acclamations and rejoicing of the people, while he, the 
 king, was a prisoner in his palace. It was a gnawing pain 
 for him to know that Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, was 
 praised as the handsomest and greatest man of England; 
 that he was called the noblest poet; the greatest scholar; 
 while yet he, the king, had also composed his poems and 
 written his learned treatises, aye, even a particular devout 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 299 
 
 book, which he had printed for his people, and ordered 
 them to read instead of the Bible.* 
 
 It was the Howards who everywhere disputed his fame. 
 The Howards supplanted him in the favor of his people, 
 and usurped the love and admiration which were due to 
 the king alone, and which should be directed toward no 
 one but him. He lay on his bed of pain, and without 
 doubt the people would have forgotten him, if he had 
 not by the block, the stake, and the scaffold, daily re- 
 minded them of himself. He lay on his bed of pain, while 
 the duke, splendid and magnificent, exhibited himself to 
 the people and transported them with enthusiasm by the 
 lavish and kingly generosity with which he scattered his 
 money among the populace. 
 
 Yes, the Duke of Norfolk was the king's dangerous 
 rival. The crown was not secure upon his head so long as 
 the Howards lived. And who could conjecture whether 
 in time to come, when Henry closed his eyes, the exultant 
 love of the people might not call to the throne the Duke 
 of Norfolk, or his noble son, the Earl of Surrey, instead 
 of the rightful heir — instead of the little boy Edward, 
 Henry's only son? 
 
 When the king thought of that, he had a feeling as 
 though a stream of fire were whirling up to his brain; and he 
 convulsively clenched his hands, and screamed and roared 
 that he would take vengeance — vengeance on those hated 
 Howards, who wanted to snatch the crown from his son. 
 
 Edward, the little boy of tender age — he alone was the 
 divinely consecrated, legitimate heir to the king's crown. 
 It had cost his father so great a sacrifice to give his people 
 this son and successor! In order to do it, he had sacrificed 
 Jane Seymour, his own beloved wife; he had let the moth- 
 er be put to death, in order to preserve the son, the heir of 
 his crown. 
 
 And the people did not once thank the king for this 
 sacrifice that Jane Seymour's husband had made for them. 
 
 * Burnet, vol. i, p, 95. 
 
300 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 The people received with shouts the Duke of Norfolk, the 
 father of that adulterous queen whom Henry loved so 
 much that her infidelity had struck him like the stab of 
 a poisoned dagger. 
 
 These were the thoughts that occupied the king on his 
 bed of pain, and upon which he dwelt with all the wilful- 
 ness and moodiness of a sick man. 
 
 "We shall have to sacrifice these Howards to him!" 
 said Earl Douglas to Gardiner, as they had just again lis- 
 tened to a burst of rage from their royal master. " If we 
 would at last succeed in ruining the queen, we must first 
 destroy the Howards." 
 
 The pious bishop looked at him inquiringly, and in 
 astonishment. 
 
 Earl Douglas smiled. "Your highness is too exalted 
 and noble to be always able to comprehend the things of 
 this world. Your look, which seeks only God and heaven, 
 does not always see the petty and pitiful things that hap- 
 pen here on the earth below." 
 
 " Oh, but," said Gardiner, with a cruel smile, " I see 
 them, and it charms my eye when I see how God's ven- 
 geance punishes the enemies of the Church here on earth. 
 Set up then, by all means, a stake or a scaffold for these 
 Howards, if their death can be to us a means to our pious 
 and godly end. You are certain of my blessing and my 
 assistance. Only I do not quite comprehend how the 
 Howards can stand in the way of our plots which are 
 formed against the queen, inasmuch as they are num- 
 bered among the queen's enemies, and profess them- 
 selves of the Church in which alone is salvation." 
 
 " The Earl of Surrey is an apostate, who has opened his 
 ear and heart to the doctrines of Calvin! " 
 
 " Then let his head fall, for he is a criminal before God, 
 and no one ought to have compassion on him! And what 
 is there that we lay to the charge of the father? " 
 
 " The Duke of Norfolk is well-nigh yet more danger- 
 ous than his son; for although a Catholic, he has not never- 
 
HENRY Vin. AND HIS COURT. 301 
 
 theless the right faith; and his soul is full of unholy sym- 
 pathy and injurious mildness. He bewails those whose 
 blood is shed because they were devoted to the false doc- 
 trine of the priests of Baal; and he calls us both the king's 
 blood-hounds." 
 
 " Well, then, cried Gardiner with an uneasy, dismal 
 smile, " we will show him that he has called us by the right 
 name; we will rend him in pieces! " 
 
 "Besides, as we have said, the Howards stand in the 
 way of our schemes in relation to the queen," said Earl 
 Douglas, earnestly. " The king's mind is so completely 
 filled with this one hatred and this one jealousy, that there 
 is no room in it for any other feeling, for any other hate. 
 It is true he signs often enough these death-warrants 
 which we lay before him; but he does it, as the lion, with 
 utter carelessness and without anger, crushes the little 
 mouse that is by chance under his paws. But if the lion 
 is to rend in pieces his equal, he must beforehand be put 
 into a rage. When he is raging, then you must let him 
 have his prey. The Howards shall be his first prey. But, 
 then, we must exert ourselves, that when the lion again 
 shakes his mane his wrath may fall upon Catharine Parr 
 and the Seymours." 
 
 " The Lord our God will be with us, and enlighten us, 
 that we may find the right means to strike His enemies a 
 sure blow!" exclaimed Gardiner, devoutly folding his 
 hands. 
 
 "I believe the right means are already found," said 
 Earl Douglas, with a smile; " and even before this day 
 descends to its close, the gates of the Tower will open to 
 receive this haughty and soft-hearted Duke of Norfolk 
 and this apostate Earl Surrey. Perchance we may even 
 succeed in striking at one blow the queen together with 
 the Howards. See! an equipage stops before the grand 
 entrance, and I see the Duchess of Norfolk and her daugh- 
 ter, the Duchess of Eichmond, getting out of the carriage. 
 Only see! they are making signs to us. I have promised 
 
302 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 to conduct these two noble and pious ladies to the king, 
 and I shall do so. Whilst we are there, pray for us, your 
 highness, that our words, like well-aimed arrows, may 
 strike the king's heart, and then rebound upon the queen 
 and the Seymours!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE ACCUSATION. 
 
 In vain had the king hoped to master his pains, or at' 
 least to forget them, while he tried to sleep. Sleep had 
 fled from the king's couch; and as he now sat in his roll- 
 ing-chair, sad, weary, and harassed with pain, he thought, 
 with gloomy spite, that the Duke of Norfolk told him but 
 yesterday that sleep was a thing under his control, and he 
 could summon it to him whenever it seemed good to him. 
 
 This thought made him raving with anger; and grind- 
 ing his teeth, he muttered: " He can sleep; and I, his lord 
 and king — I am a beggar that in vain whines to God above 
 for a little sleep, a little forge tfulness of his pains! But 
 it is this traitorous Norfolk that prevents me from sleep- 
 ing. Thoughts of him keep me awake and restless. And 
 I cannot crush this traitor with these hands of mine; I am 
 a king, and yet so powerless and weak, that I can find no 
 means of accusing this traitor, and convicting him of his 
 sinful and blasphemous deeds. Oh, where may I find him 
 — that true friend, that devoted servant, who ventures to 
 understand my unuttered thoughts, and fulfil the wishes 
 to which I dare not give a name'? " 
 
 Just as he was thus thinking, the door behind him 
 opened and in walked Earl Douglas. His countenance 
 was proud and triumphant, and so wild a joy gleamed from 
 his eyes that even the king was surprised at it. 
 
 " Oh," said he, peevishly, " you call yourself my friend; 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 303 
 
 and you are cheerful, Douglas, while your king is a poor 
 prisoner whom the gout has chained with brazen bands to 
 this chair." 
 
 " You will recover, my king, and go forth from this im- 
 prisonment as the conqueror, dazzling and bright, that by 
 his appearance under God's blessing treads all his enemies 
 in the dust — that triumphs over all those who are against 
 him, and would betray their king! " 
 
 " Are there, then, any such traitors, who threaten their 
 king? " asked Henry, with a dark frown. 
 
 " Ay, there are such traitors! " 
 
 "Name them to me!" said the king, trembling with 
 passionate impatience. " Name them to me, that my arm 
 may crush them and my avenging justice overtake the 
 heads of the guilty." 
 
 "It is superfluous to mention them, for you, King 
 Henry, the wise and all-knowing — you know their names." 
 
 And bending down closer to the king's ear, Earl Doug- 
 las continued: "King Henry, I certainly have a right to 
 call myself your most faithful and devoted servant, for I 
 have read your thoughts. I have understood the noble 
 grief that disturbs your heart, and banishes sleep from 
 your eyes and peace from your soul. You saw the foe that 
 was creeping in the dark; you heard the low hiss of the 
 serpent that was darting his venomous sting at your heel. 
 But you were so much the noble and intrepid king, that 
 you would not yourself become the accuser — nay, you 
 would not once draw back the foot menaced by the serpent. 
 Great and merciful, like God Himself, you smiled upon 
 him whom you knew to be your enemy. But I, my king — 
 I have other duties. I am like the faithful dog, that has 
 eyes only for the safety of his master, and falls upon every 
 one that comes to menace him. I have seen the serpent 
 that would kill you, and I will bruise his head! " 
 
 " And what is the name of this serpent of which you 
 speak? " asked the king; and his heart beat so boisterous- 
 ly that he felt it on his trembling lips. 
 
304 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 " It is called," said Earl Douglas, earnestly and sol- 
 emnly — " it is called Howard! " 
 
 The king uttered a cry, and, forgetting his gout and 
 his pains, arose from his chair. 
 
 " Howard! " said he, with a cruel smile. " Say you 
 that a Howard threatens our life? Which one is it? 
 Name me the traitor! n 
 
 "I name them both — father and son! I name the 
 Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Surrey! I say that they 
 both are traitors, who threaten the life and honor of my 
 king, and with blasphemous arrogance dare stretch out 
 their hands even to the crown! n 
 
 "Ah, I knew it, I knew it!" screamed the king. 
 " And it was this that made me sleepless, and ate into my 
 body like red-hot iron." 
 
 And as he fastened on Douglas his eyes flashing with 
 rage, he asked, with a grim smile : " Can you prove that 
 these Howards are traitors? Can you prove that they aim 
 at my crown?" 
 
 " I hope to be able to do so," said Douglas. U To be 
 sure, there are no great convincing facts " 
 
 " Oh," said the king, interrupting him with a savage 
 laugh, " there is no need of great facts. Give into my 
 hand but a little thread, and I will make out of it a cord 
 strong enough to haul the father and son up to the gallows 
 at one time." 
 
 " Oh, for the son there is proof enough," said the earl, 
 with a smile; " and as regards the father, I will produce 
 your majesty some accusers against him, who will be im- 
 portant enough to bring the duke also to the block. Will 
 you allow me to bring them to you immediately? " 
 
 "Yes, bring them, bring them!" cried the king. 
 "Every minute is precious that may lead these traitors 
 sooner to their punishment." 
 
 Earl Douglas stepped to the door and opened it. 
 Three veiled female figures entered and bowed rever- 
 entially. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 305 
 
 "Ah/' whispered the king, with a cruel smile, as he 
 sank back again into his chair, " they are the three Fates 
 that spin the Howards' thread of life, and will now, it is 
 to be hoped, break it off. I will furnish them with the 
 scissors for it; and if they are not sharp enough, I will, 
 with my own royal hands, help them to break the thread." 
 
 " Sire," said Earl Douglas, as, at a sign from him, the 
 three women unveiled themselves — " sire, the wife, the 
 daughter, and the mistress of the Duke of Norfolk have 
 come to accuse him of high treason. The mother and the 
 sister of the Earl of Surrey are here to charge him with a 
 crime equally worthy of death." 
 
 " Now verily," exclaimed the king, " it must be a griev- 
 ous and blasphemous sin which so much exasperates the 
 temper of these noble women, and makes them deaf to 
 the voice of nature ! " 
 
 " It is indeed such a sin," said the Duchess of Norfolk, 
 in a solemn tone; and, approaching a few paces nearer to 
 the king, she continued: " Sire, I accuse the duke, my 
 divorced husband, of high treason and disloyalty to his 
 king. He has been so bold as to appropriate your own 
 royal coat-of-arms; and on his seal and equipage, and over 
 the entrance of his palace, are displayed the arms of the 
 kings of England." 
 
 " That is true," said the king, who, now that he was 
 certain of the destruction of the Howards, had regained 
 his calmness and self-possession, and perfectly reassumed 
 the air of a strict, impartial judge. " Yes, he bears the 
 royal arms on his shield, but yet, if we remember rightly, 
 the crown and paraph of our ancestor Edward the Third 
 are wanting." 
 
 " He has now added this crown and this paraph to his 
 coat-of-arms," said Miss Holland. " He says he is entitled 
 to them; for that, like the king, he also is descended in 
 direct line from Edward the Third; and, therefore, the 
 royal arms belong likewise to him." 
 
 " If he says that, he is a traitor who presumes to call 
 
306 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 his king and master his equal," cried the king, coloring up 
 with a grim joy at now at length having his enemy in his 
 power. 
 
 "He is indeed a traitor," continued Miss Holland. 
 " Often have I heard him say he had the same right to the 
 throne of England as Henry the Eighth; and that a day 
 might come when he would contend with Henry's son for 
 that crown." 
 
 "Ah," cried the king, and his eyes darted flashes so 
 fierce that even Earl Douglas shrank before them, " ah, he 
 will contend with my son for the crown of England! It is 
 well, now; for now it is my sacred duty, as a king and as a 
 father, to crush this serpent that wants to bite me on the 
 heel; and no compassion and no pity ought now to restrain 
 me longer. And were there no other proofs of his guilt 
 and his crime than these words that he has spoken to you, 
 yet are they sufficient, and will rise up against him, like 
 the hangman's aids who are to conduct him to the block." 
 
 "But there are yet other proofs," said Miss Holland, 
 laconically. 
 
 The king was obliged to unbutton his doublet. It 
 seemed as though joy would suffocate him. 
 
 " Name them! " commanded he. 
 
 "He dares deny the king's supremacy; he calls the 
 Bishop of Home the sole head and holy Father of the 
 Church." 
 
 "Ah, does he so?" exclaimed the king, laughing. 
 "Well, we shall see now whether this holy Father will 
 save this faithful son from the scaffold which we will erect 
 for him. Yes, yes, we must give the world a new example 
 of our incorruptible justice, which overtakes every one, 
 however high and mighty he may be, and however near 
 our throne he may stand. Eeally, really, it grieves our 
 heart to lay low this oak which we had planted so near 
 our throne, that we might lean upon it and support our- 
 selves by it; but justice demands this sacrifice, and we will 
 make it — not in wrath and ^pite, but only to meet the 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 307 
 
 sacred and painful duty of our royalty. Wc have greatly 
 loved this duke, and it grieves us to tear this love from 
 our heart." 
 
 And with his hand, glittering with jewels, the king 
 wiped from his eyes the tears which were not there. 
 
 " But how? " asked the king, then, after a pause, " will 
 you have the courage to repeat your accusation publicly 
 before Parliament? Will you, his wife, and you, his mis- 
 tress, publicly swear with a sacred oath to the truth of your 
 declaration? " 
 
 "I will do so," said the duchess, solemnly, "for he is 
 no longer my husband, no longer the father of my chil- 
 dren, but simply the enemy of my king; and to serve him 
 is my most sacred duty." 
 
 " I will do so," cried Miss Holland, with a bewitching 
 smile; " for he is no longer my lover, but only a traitor, an 
 atheist, who is audacious enough to recognize as the holy 
 head of Christendom that man at Eome who has dared to 
 hurl his curse against the sublime head of our king. It is 
 this, indeed, that has torn my heart from the duke, and 
 that has made me now hate him as ardently as I once loved 
 him." 
 
 With a gracious smile, the king presented both his 
 hands to the two women. "You have done me a great 
 service to-day, my ladies," said he, " and I will find a way 
 to reward you for it. I will give you, duchess, the half of 
 his estate, as though you were his rightful heir and lawful 
 widow. And you, Miss Holland, I will leave in undisputed 
 possession of all the goods and treasures that the enam- 
 ored duke has given you." 
 
 The two ladies broke out into loud expressions of 
 thanks and into enthusiastic rapture over the liberal and 
 generous king, who was so gracious as to give them what 
 they already had, and to bestow on them what was already 
 their own property. 
 
 "Well, and are you wholly mute, my little duchess," 
 asked the king after a pause, turning to the Duchess of 
 
308 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 Kichmond, who had withdrawn to the embrasure of a 
 window. 
 
 " Sire," said the duchess, smiling, " I was only waiting 
 for my cue." 
 
 " And this cue is " 
 
 "Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey! As your majesty 
 knows, I am a merry and harmless woman; and I under- 
 stand better how to laugh and joke than to talk much seri- 
 ously. The two noble and fair ladies have accused the 
 duke, my father; and they have done so in a very dignified 
 and solemn manner. I wish to accuse my brother, Henry 
 Howard; but you must exercise forbearance, if my words 
 sound less solemn and elevated. They have told you, sire, 
 that the Duke of Norfolk is a traitor and a criminal who 
 denominates the Pope of Eome, and not you, my exalted 
 king, the head of the Church. Now, the Earl of Surrey is 
 neither a traitor nor a papist; and he has neither devised 
 criminal plots against the throne of England, nor has he 
 denied the supremacy of the king. No, sire, the Earl of 
 Surrey is no traitor and no papist! " 
 
 The duchess paused, and looked with a malicious and 
 droll smile into the astonished faces of those present. 
 
 A dark frown gathered on the king's brow, and his eyes, 
 which just before had looked so cheerful, were now fixed 
 with an angry expression on the young duchess. 
 
 " Why, then, my lady, have you made your appearance 
 here? "- asked he. " Why have you come here, if you have 
 nothing further to say than what I already know — that the 
 Earl of Surrey is a very loyal subject, and a man without 
 any ambition, who neither courts the favor of my people 
 nor thinks of laying his traitorous hands on my crown? " 
 
 The young duchess shook her head with a smile. " I 
 know not whether he does all that," said she. " I have in- 
 deed heard that he said, with bitter scorn, that you, my 
 king, wanted to be the protector of religion, yet you your- 
 self were entirely without religion and without belief. 
 Also, he of late broke out into bitter curses against you, be- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 309 
 
 *ause you had robbed him of his field-marshal's staff, and 
 given it to Earl Hertford, that noble Seymour. Also, he 
 meant to see whether the throne of England were so firm 
 and steady that it had no need of his hand and his arm to 
 prop it. All that I have of course heard from him; but 
 you are right, sire, it is unimportant — it is not worth men- 
 tioning, and therefore I do not even make it as an accusa- 
 tion against him." 
 
 "Ah, you are always a mad little witch, Kosabella!" 
 cried the king, who had regained his cheerfulness. " You 
 say you will not accuse him, and yet you make his head a 
 plaything that you poise upon your crimson lips. But 
 take care, my little duchess — take care, that this head does 
 not fall from your lips with your laughing, and roll down 
 to the ground; for I will not stop it — this head of the Earl 
 of Surrey, of whom you say that he is no traitor." 
 
 " But is it not monotonous and tiresome, if we accuse 
 the father and son of the same crime? " asked the duchess, 
 laughing. " Let us have a little variation. Let the duke 
 be a traitor; the son, my king, is by far a worse criminal! " 
 
 " Is there, then, a still worse and more execrable crime 
 than to be a traitor to his king and master, and to speak 
 of the anointed of the Lord without reverence and love ? * 
 
 * Yes, your majesty, there is a still worse crime; and of 
 that I accuse the Earl of Surrey. He is an adulterer! " 
 
 "An adulterer!" repeated the king, with an expres- 
 sion of abhorrence. " Yes, my lady, you are right; that is 
 a more execrable and unnatural crime, and we shall judge 
 it strictly. For it shall not be said that modesty and vir- 
 tue found no protector in the king of this land, and that 
 he will not as a judge punish and crush all those who dare 
 sin against decency and morals. Oh, the Earl of Surrey 
 is an adulterer, is he ? " 
 
 " That is to say, sire, he dares with his sinful love to 
 pursue a virtuous and chaste wife. He dares to raise his 
 wicked looks to a woman who stands as high above him as 
 the sun above mortals, and who, at least by the greatness 
 
310 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 and high position of her husband, should be secure from 
 all impure desires and lustful wishes." 
 
 "Ah," cried the king, indignantly, "I see already 
 whither that tends. It is always the same accusation; 
 and now I say, as you did just now, let us have a little 
 variation! The accusation I have already often heard; 
 but the proofs are always wanting." 
 
 " Sire, this time, it may be, we can give the proofs," 
 said the duchess, earnestly. " Would you know, my noble 
 king, who the Geraldine is to whom Henry Howard ad- 
 dresses his love-songs? Shall I tell you the real name of 
 this woman to whom, in the presence of your sacred person 
 and of your whole court, he uttered his passionate protes- 
 tations of love and his oath of eternal faithfulness? Well, 
 now, this Geraldine — so adored, so deified — is the queen! " 
 
 "That is not true!" cried the king, crimson with 
 anger; and he clenched his hands so firmly about the arms 
 of his chair that it cracked. " That is not true, my lady! " 
 
 " It is true ! " said the duchess, haughtily and saucily. 
 " It is true, sire, for the Earl of Surrey has confessed to me 
 myself that it is the queen whom he loves, and that Geral- 
 dine is only a melodious appellation for Catharine." 
 
 "He has confessed it to you yourself?" inquired the 
 king, with gasping breath. " Ah, he dares love his king's 
 wife ? Woe to him, woe ! " 
 
 He raised his clenched fist threateningly to heaven, and 
 his eyes darted lightning. "But how!" said he, after a 
 pause — " has he not recently read before us a poem to his 
 Geraldine, in which he thanks her for her love, and ac- 
 knowledges himself eternally her debtor for the kiss she 
 gave him? " 
 
 "He has read before your majesty such a poem to 
 Geraldine." 
 
 The king uttered a low cry, and raised himself in his 
 seat. "Proofs," said he, in a hoarse, hollow voice — 
 " proofs — or, I tell you, your own head shall atone for this 
 accusation! " 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 3H 
 
 ■"This proof, your majesty, I will give you! " said Earl 
 Douglas, solemnly. " It pleases your majesty, in the ful- 
 ness of your gentleness and mercy, to want to doubt the 
 Accusation of the noble duchess. Well, now, I will furnish 
 you infallible proof that Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, 
 really loves the queen, and that he really dares to extol 
 and adore the king's wife as his Geraldine. You shall 
 with your own ears, sire, hear how Earl Surrey swears his 
 love to the queen." 
 
 The scream which the king now uttered was so fright- 
 ful, and gave evidence of so much inward agony and rage, 
 that it struck the earl dumb, and made the cheeks of the 
 ladies turn pale. 
 
 " Douglas, Douglas, beware how you rouse the lion! " 
 gasped the king. " The lion might rend you yourself in 
 pieces! " 
 
 " This very night I will give you the proof that you de- 
 mand, sire. This very night you shall hear how Earl Sur- 
 rey, sitting at the feet of his Geraldine, swears to her his 
 love/' 
 
 " It k well! ». said the king. " This night, then! Woe 
 io you, Douglas, if you cannot redeem your word! " 
 
 " I will do so, your majesty. For this, it is only neces- 
 sary that you will be graciously pleased to swear to me that 
 you will not, by a sigh or a breath, betray yourself. The 
 earl is suspicious; and the fear of an evil conscience has 
 sharpened his ear. He would recognize you by your sigh, 
 and his lips would not speak those words and avowals which 
 you desire to hear." 
 
 " I swear to you that I will not by any sigh or breath 
 betray my presence ! " said the king, solemnly. " I swear 
 this to yon by the holy mother of God! But now let that 
 suffice. Air — air — I suffocate! Everything swims before 
 my eyes. Open the window, that a little air may flow in! 
 Ah ! that is good ! This air at least is pure, and not infect- 
 ed with sin and slander! " 
 
 And the king had Earl Douglas roll him to the opened 
 
312 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 window, and inspired in long draughts that pure fresh air. 
 Then he turned to the ladies with an agreeable smile. 
 
 " My ladies," said he, " I thank you! You have to-day 
 shown yourselves my true and devoted friends! I shall 
 ever remember it, and I beg of you, if at any time you 
 need a friend and protector, to apply to us with all confi- 
 dence. We shall never forget what great service you have 
 to-day rendered us." 
 
 He nodded to them in a friendly manner, whilst, with 
 a majestic wave of the hand, he dismissed them, and con- 
 cluded the audience. 
 
 " And now, Douglas," exclaimed the king, vehemently, 
 as soon as the ladies had retired — " now I have had enough 
 of this dreadful torture! Oh, you say I am to punish the 
 traitors — these Surreys — and you inflict on me the most 
 frightful pains of the rack! " 
 
 " Sire, there was no other means of delivering up this 
 Surrey to you. You were wishing that he were a criminal; 
 and I shall prove to you that he is so." 
 
 " Oh, I shall then be able at least to tread his hated 
 head under my feet" said the king, grinding his teeth. 
 " I shall no more tremble before this malicious enemy, who 
 goes about among my people with his hypocritical tongue, 
 while I, tortured with pain, sit in the dungeon of my sick- 
 room. Yes, yes, I thank you, Douglas, that you will hand 
 him over to my arm of vengeance; and my soul is full of 
 joy and serenity at it. Ah, why were you obliged to cloud 
 this fair, this sublime hour? Why was it necessary to 
 weave the queen into this gloomy web of guilt and crime? 
 Her cheerful smile and her radiant looks have ever been 
 an enjoyment so dear to my eyes." 
 
 " Sire, I do not by any means say that the queen is 
 guilty. Only there was no other means to prove to you 
 Earl Surrey's guilt than that you should hear for yourself 
 his confession of love to the queen." 
 
 " And I will hear it! " cried the king, who had now al- 
 ready overcome the sentimental emotion of his heart. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 313 
 
 "Yes, I will have full conviction of Surrey's guilt; and 
 woe to the queen, should I find her also guilty! This 
 night, then, earl! But till then, silence and secrecy! We 
 will have father and son seized and imprisoned at the same 
 hour; for otherwise the imprisonment of the one might 
 easily serve as a warning to the other, and he might escape 
 my just wrath. Ah, they are so sly — these Howards — 
 and their hearts are so full of cunning and malice! But 
 now they shall escape me no more; now they are ours! 
 How it does me good to think that! And how briskly and 
 lightly my heart leaps! It is as though a stream of new 
 life were rushing through my veins, and a new power were 
 infused into my blood. Oh, it was these Howards that 
 made me sick. I shall be well again when I know that 
 they are in the Tower. Yes, yes, my heart leaps with jOy, 
 and this is to be a happy and blessed day. Call the queen 
 hither to me, that I may once more enjoy, her rosy face be- 
 fore I make it turn pale with terror. Yes, let the queen 
 come, and let her adorn herself; I want to see her once 
 more in the full splendor of her youth and her royalty, 
 before her star goes out in darkness. I will once more de- 
 light myself with her before I make her weep. Ah, know 
 you, Douglas, that there is no enjoyment keener, more 
 devilish, and more heavenly, than to see such a person who 
 smiles and suspects nothing, while she is already con- 
 demned; who still adorns her head with roses, while the 
 executioner is already sharpening the axe that is to lay 
 that head low; who still has hopes of the future, and of joy 
 and happiness, while her hour of life has already run out; 
 while I have already bidden her stop and descend into the 
 grave! So, call the queen to me; and tell her that we are 
 in a merry mood, and want to jest and laugh with her! 
 Call all the ladies and lords of our court; and have the 
 royal saloons opened; and let them be radiant with the 
 brilliancy of the lights; and let us have music — loud, 
 crashing music — for we want at least to make this a merry 
 day for us since it seems as though we should have a sad 
 21 
 
314 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 and unhappy night. Yes, yes, a merry day we will have; 
 and after that, let eome what come may! The saloons 
 shall resound with laughter and joy fulness; and naught 
 but rejoicing and fun shall be heard in the great royal 
 saloons. And invite also the Duke of Norfolk, my noble 
 cousin, who shares with me my royal coat-of-arms. Yes, 
 invite him, that I may enjoy once more his haughty and 
 imposing beauty and grandeur before this august sun is 
 extinguished and leaves us again in night and darkness. 
 Then invite also Wriothesley, the high chancellor, and let 
 him bring with him a few gallant and brave soldiers of our 
 body-guard. They are to be the noble duke's suite, when, 
 he wishes to leave our feast and go homeward — homeward 
 — if not to his palace, yet to the Tower, and to the grave. 
 Go, go, Douglas, and attend to all this for me! And send 
 me here directly my merry fool, John Heywood. He must 
 pass away the time for me till the feast begins. He must 
 make me laugh and be gay." 
 
 " I will go and fulfil your orders, sire," said Earl 
 Douglas. I will order the feast, and impart your com- 
 mands to the queen and your court. And first of all, I 
 will send John Heywood to you. But pardon me, your 
 majesty, if I venture to remind you that you have given 
 me your royal word not to betray our secret by a single syl- 
 lable, or even by a sigh." 
 
 " I gave my word, and I will keep it! " said the king- 
 " Go now, Earl Douglas, and do what I have bidden you! " 
 
 Wholly exhausted by this paroxysm of cruel delight, 
 the king sank back in his seat, and moaning and groaning 
 he rubbed his leg, the piercing pains of which he had for 
 a moment forgotten, but which now reminded him of their 
 presence with so much the more cruel fury. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" moaned the king. "He boasts of being 
 able to sleep when he pleases. Well, this time we will 
 be the one to lull this haughty earl to sleep. But it will 
 be a sleep out of which he is never to awake again! " 
 
 While the king thus wailed and suffered, Earl Doug- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 31& 
 
 las hastened with quick, firm step through the suite of 
 royal apartments. A proud, triumphant smile played 
 about his lips, and a joyful expression of victory flashed 
 from his eyes. 
 
 " Triumph! triumph! we shall conquer! " said he, as 
 he now entered his daughter's chamber and extended his 
 hand to Lady Jane. " Jane, we have at last reached the 
 goal, and you will soon be King Henry's seventh wife! " 
 
 A rosy shimmer flitted for a moment over Lady Jane's- 
 pale, colorless cheeks, and a smile played about her lips — a 
 smile, however, which was more sad than loud sob& could 
 have been." 
 
 " Ah," said she in a low tone, " I fear only that my 
 poor head will be too weak to wear a royal crown." 
 
 " Courage, courage, Jane, lift up your head, and be- 
 again my strong, proud daughter! " 
 
 " But, I suffer so much, my father," sighed she. * It 
 is hell that burns within me! " 
 
 " But soon, Jane, soon you shall feel again the bliss of 
 heaven! I had forbidden you to grant Henry Howard a 
 meeting, because it might bring us danger. Well, then,, 
 now your tender heart shall be satisfied. To-night you 
 shall embrace your lover again! " 
 
 " Oh," murmured she, " he will again call me his Geral- 
 dine, and it will not be I, but the queen, that he kisses in 
 my arms! " 
 
 " Yes, to-day, it will still be so, Jane; but I swear to 
 you that to-day is the last time that you are obliged to re- 
 ceive him thus." 
 
 " The last time that I see him? " asked Jane, with an 
 expression of alarm. 
 
 "No, Jane, only the last time that Henry Howard 
 loves in you the queen, and not you yourself." 
 
 * Oh, he will never love me! " murmured she, sadly. 
 
 " He will love you, for you it will be that will save his 
 life. Hasten, then, Jane, haste! Write him quickly one 
 of those tender notes that you indite with so masterly a 
 
316 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 hand. Invite him to a meeting to-night at the usual time 
 and place." 
 
 " Oh, I shall at last have him again! " whispered Lady 
 Jane; and she stepped to the writing-table and with trem- 
 bling hand began to write. 
 
 But suddenly she stopped, and looked at her father 
 sharply and suspiciously. 
 
 " You swear to me, my father, that no danger threatens 
 him if he comes? " 
 
 " I swear to you, Jane, that you shall be the one to save 
 his life! I swear to you, Jane, that you shall take ven- 
 geance on the queen — vengeance for all the agony, the hu- 
 miliation and despair that you have suffered by her. To- 
 day she is yet Queen of England! To-morrow she will be 
 nothing more than a criminal, who sighs in the confine- 
 ment of the Tower for the hour of her execution. And 
 you will be Henry's seventh queen. Write, then, my 
 daughter, write! And may love dictate to you the proper 
 words!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE FEAST OF DEATH. 
 
 For a long time the king had not appeared in such 
 good spirits as on this festive evening. For a long time he 
 had not been so completely the tender husband, the good- 
 natured companion, the cheerful lon-vivant. 
 
 The pains of his leg seemed to have disappeared, and 
 even the weight of his body seemed to be less burdensome 
 than usual, for more than once he rose from his chair, and 
 walked a few steps through the brilliantly lighted saloon, 
 in which the ladies and lords of his court, in festive attire, 
 were moving gently to and fro; in which music and laugh- 
 ter resounded. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 317 
 
 How tender he showed himself toward the queen to- 
 day; with what extraordinary kindness he met the Duke 
 of Norfolk; with what smiling attention he listened to 
 the Earl of Surrey, as he, at the king's desire, recited some 
 new sonnets to Geraldine! 
 
 This marked preference for the noble Howards enrap- 
 tured the Eoman Catholic party at court, and filled it with 
 new hopes and new confidence. 
 
 But one there was who did not allow himself to be de- 
 ceived by this mask which King Henry had to-day put on 
 over his wrathful face. 
 
 John Heywood had faith neither in the king's cheer- 
 fulness nor in his tenderness. He knew the king; he was 
 aware that those to whom he was most friendly often had 
 the most to fear from him. Therefore, he watched him; 
 and he saw, beneath this mask of friendliness, the king's 
 real angry countenance sometimes flash out in a quick, 
 hasty look. 
 
 The resounding music and the mad rejoicing no more 
 deceived John Heywood. He beheld Death standing be- 
 hind this dazzling life; he smelt the reek of corruption 
 concealed beneath the perfume of these brilliant flowers. 
 
 John Heywood no longer laughed and no longer chat- 
 ted. He watched. 
 
 For the first time in a long while the king did not need 
 to-day the exciting jest and the stinging wit of his fool in 
 order to be cheerful and in good humor. 
 
 So the fool had time and leisure to be a reasonable and 
 observant man; and he improved the time. 
 
 He saw the looks of mutual understanding and secure 
 triumph that Earl Douglas exchanged with Gardiner, and 
 it made him mistrustful to notice that these favorites of 
 the king, at other times so jealous, did not seem to be at 
 all disturbed by the extraordinary marks of favor which 
 the Howards were enjoying this evening. 
 
 Once he heard how Gardiner asked Wriothesley, as he 
 passed by, " And the soldiers of the Tower? " and how he 
 
318 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 replied just as laconically, "They stand near the coach, 
 and wait." 
 
 It was, therefore, perfectly clear that somebody would 
 be committed to prison this very day. There was, there- 
 fore, among the laughing, richly-attired, and jesting 
 guests of this court, one who this very night, when he 
 left these halls radiant with splendor and pleasure, was to 
 behold the dark and gloomy chambers of the Tower. 
 
 The only question was, who that one was for whom the 
 brilliant comedy of this evening was to be changed to so 
 sad a drama. 
 
 John Heywood felt his heart oppressed with an unac- 
 countable apprehension, and the king's extraordinary ten-' 
 derness toward the queen terrified him. 
 
 As now he smiled on Catharine, as he now stroked her 
 cheeks, so had the king smiled on Anne Boleyn in the 
 same hour that he ordered her arrest; so had he stroked 
 Buckingham's cheek on the same day that he signed his 
 death-warrant. 
 
 The fool was alarmed at this brilliant feast, resounding 
 music, and the mad merriment of the king. He was hor- 
 rified at the laughing faces and frivolous jests, which came 
 streaming from all those mirthful lips. 
 
 Heaven! they laughed, and death was in the midst 
 of them; they laughed, and the gates of the Tower were 
 already opened to admit one of those merry guests of the 
 king into that house which no one in those days of Henry 
 the Eighth left again, save to go to the stake or to ascend 
 the scaffold! 
 
 Who was the condemned? For whom were the soldiers 
 below at the carriage waiting? John Heywood in vain 
 racked his brain with this question. 
 
 Nowhere could he spy a trace that might lead him on 
 the right track; nowhere a clew that might conduct him 
 through this labyrinth of horrors. 
 
 " When you are afraid of the devil, you do well to put 
 yourself under his immediate protection," muttered John 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 319 
 
 Heywood; and sad and despondent at heart, he crept be- 
 hind the king's throne and crouched down by it on the 
 ground. 
 
 John Heywood had such a little, diminutive form, and 
 the king's throne was so large and broad, that it altogether 
 concealed the little crouching fool. 
 
 No one had noticed that John Heywood was concealed 
 there behind the king. Nobody saw his large, keen eyes 
 peeping out from behind the throne and surveying and 
 watching the whole hall. 
 
 John Heywood could see everything and hear every- 
 thing going on in the vicinity of the king. He could ob- 
 serve every one who approached the queen. 
 
 He saw Lady Jane likewise, who was standing by the 
 queen's seat. He saw how Earl Douglas drew near his 
 daughter, and how she turned deadly pale as he stepped 
 up to her. 
 
 John Heywood held his breath and listened. 
 
 Earl Douglas stood near his daughter, and nodded to 
 her with a peculiar smile. " Go, now, Jane, go and change 
 your dress. It is time. Only see how impatiently and 
 longingly Henry Howard is already looking this way, and 
 with what languishing and enamored glances he seems to 
 give a hint to the queen. Go then, Jane, and think of 
 your promise." 
 
 "And will you, my father, also think of your prom- 
 ise?" inquired Lady Jane, with trembling lips. "Will 
 no danger threaten him? " 
 
 " I will, Jane. But now make haste, my daughter, and 
 be prudent and adroit." 
 
 Lady Jane bowed, and murmured a few unintelligible 
 words. Then she approached the queen, and begged per- 
 mission to retire from the feast, because a severe indisposi- 
 tion had suddenly overtaken her. 
 
 Lady Jane's countenance was so pale and deathlike, 
 that the queen might well believe in the indisposition of 
 her first maid of honor, and she allowed her to retire. 
 
320 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Lady Jane left the hall. The queen continued the 
 conversation with Lord Hertford, who was standing by her. 
 
 It was a very lively and warm conversation, and the 
 queen therefore did not heed what was passing around her; 
 and she heard nothing of the conversation between the 
 king and Earl Douglas. 
 
 John Heywood, still crouching behind the king's 
 throne, observed everything and heard every word of this 
 softly whispered conversation. 
 
 " Sire," said Earl Douglas, " it is late and the hour of 
 midnight is drawing nigh. Will your majesty be pleased 
 to conclude the feast? For you well know that at mid- 
 night we must be over there in the green summer-house, 
 and it is a long way there." 
 
 " Yes, yes, at midnight! " muttered the king. " At 
 midnight the carnival is at an end; and we shall tear off 
 our mask, and show our wrathful countenance to the crim- 
 inals! At midnight we must be over in the green sum- 
 mer-house. Yes, Douglas, we must make haste; for it 
 would be cruel to let the tender Surrey wait still longer. 
 So we will give his Geraldine liberty to leave the feast; 
 and we ourselves must begin our journey. Ah, Douglas, it 
 is a hard path that we have to tread, and the furies and 
 gods of vengeance bear our torches. To work, then — to 
 work! " 
 
 The king arose from his seat, and stepped to the queen, 
 to whom he presented his hand with a tender smile. 
 
 " My lady, it is late," said he; " and we, who are king 
 of so many subjects — we are, nevertheless, in turn, the 
 subject of a king. This is the physician, and we must 
 obey him. He has ordered me to seek my couch before 
 midnight, and, as a loyal subject must* do, I obey. We 
 wish you, therefore, a good-night, Kate; and may your 
 beautiful eyes on the morrow also shine as starlike as they 
 do to-night." 
 
 " They will shine to-morrow as to-night, if my lord and 
 husband is still as gracious to me to-morrow as to-day," 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 321 
 
 said Catharine, with perfect artlessness and without em- 
 barrassment, as she gave her hand to the king. 
 
 Henry cast on her a suspicions, searching look, and a 
 peculiar, malicious expression was manifested in his face. 
 
 " Do you believe then, Kate, that we can ever be un- 
 gracious to you? " asked he. 
 
 " As to that, I think," said she, with a smile, " that 
 even the sun does not always shine; and that a gloomy 
 night always succeeds his splendor." 
 
 The king did not reply. He looked her steadily in 
 the face, and his features suddenly assumed a gentler ex- 
 pression. 
 
 Perhaps he had compassion on his young wife. Per- 
 haps he felt pity for her youth and her enchanting smile, 
 which had so often revived and refreshed his heart. 
 
 Earl Douglas at least feared so. 
 
 " Sire," said he, " it is late. The hour of midnight is 
 drawing nigh." 
 
 " Then let us go," exclaimed the king, with a sigh. 
 "Yes once again, good-night, Kate! Nay, do not accom- 
 pany me! I will leave the hall quite unobserved; and I 
 shall be pleased, if my guests will still prolong the fair 
 feast till morning. All of you remain here! No one but 
 Douglas accompanies me." 
 
 "And your brother, the fool!" said John Hey wood, 
 who long before had come out of his hiding-place and was 
 now standing by the king. "Yes, come, brother Henry; 
 let us quit this feast. It is not becoming for wise men of 
 our sort to grant our presence still longer to the feast of 
 fools. Come to your couch, king, and I will lull your ear 
 to sleep with the sayings of my wisdom, and enliven your 
 soul with the manna of my learning." 
 
 While John Heywood thus spoke, it did not escape him 
 that the features of the earl suddenly clouded and a dark 
 frown settled on his brow. 
 
 " Spare your wisdom for to-day, John," said the king; 
 " for you would indeed be preaching only to deaf ears. I 
 
322 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 am tired, and I require not your erudition, but sleep. 
 Good-night, John." 
 
 The king left the hall, leaning on Earl Douglas's arm. 
 
 "Earl Douglas does not wish me to accompany the 
 king," whispered John Heywood. " He is afraid the king 
 might blab out to me a little of that diabolical work which 
 they will commence at midnight. Well, I call the devil, 
 as well as the king, my brother, and with his help I too 
 will be in the green-room at midnight. Ah, the queen is 
 retiring; and there is the Duke of Norfolk leaving the 
 hall. I have a slight longing to see whether the duke goes 
 hence luckily and without danger, or if the soldiers who 
 stand near the coach, as Wriothesley says, will perchance 
 be the duke's bodyguard for this night." 
 
 Slipping out of the hall with the quickness of a cat, 
 John Heywood passed the duke in the anteroom and hur- 
 ried on to the outer gateway, before which the carriages 
 were drawn up. 
 
 John Heywood leaned against a pillar and watched. A 
 few minutes, and the duke's tall and proud form appeared 
 in the entrance-hall; and the footman, hurrying forward, 
 called his carriage. 
 
 The carriage rolled up; the door was opened. 
 
 Two men wrapped in black mantles sat by the coach- 
 man; two others stood behind as footmen, while a fifth was 
 by the open door of the carriage. 
 
 The duke first noticed him as his foot had already 
 touched the step of the carriage. 
 
 " This is not my equipagel These are not my people ! " 
 said he; and he tried to step back. But the pretended 
 servant forced him violently into the carriage and shut the 
 door. 
 
 " Forward ! " ordered he. The carriage rolled on. A 
 moment still, John Heywood saw the duke's pale face ap- 
 pear at the open carriage window, and it seemed to him 
 as though he were stretching out his arms, calling for help 
 — then the carriage disappeared in the night. 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 323 
 
 " Poor duke ! " murmured John Hey wood. " The 
 gates of the Tower are heavy, and your arm will not be 
 strong enough to open them again, when they have once 
 closed behind you. But it avails nothing to think more 
 about him now. The queen is also in danger. Away, 
 then, to the queen! " 
 
 With fleet foot John Heywood hastened back into the 
 castle. Through passages and corridors he slipped hur- 
 riedly along. 
 
 Now he stood in the corridor which led to the apart- 
 ments of the queen. 
 
 " I will constitute her guard to-night," muttered John 
 Heywood, as he hid himself in one of the niches in the cor- 
 ridor. " The fool by his prayers will keep far from the 
 door of his saint the tricks of the devil, and protect her 
 from the snares which the pious Bishop Gardiner and the 
 crafty courtier Douglas want to lay for her feet. My 
 queen shall not fall and be ruined. The fool yet lives to 
 protect her." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE QUEEN 
 
 Fkom the niche in which John Heywood had hid him- 
 self he could survey the entire corridor and all the doors 
 opening into it — could see everything and hear everything 
 without being himself seen, for the projecting pilaster 
 completely shaded him. 
 
 So John Heywood stood and listened. All was quiet 
 in the corridor. In the distance was now and then heard 
 the deadened sound of the music; and the confused hum 
 of many voices from the festive halls forced its way to 
 the listener's ear. 
 
 This was the only thing that John Heywood perceived. 
 All else was still. 
 
324: HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 But this stillness did not last long. The corridor was 
 lighted up, and the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps 
 was heard. 
 
 It was the gold-laced lackeys, who bore the large silver 
 candelabra to light the queen, who, with her train of 
 ladies, was passing through the corridor. 
 
 She looked wondrously beautiful. The glare of the 
 candles borne before her illumined her countenance, which 
 beamed with cheerfulness. As she passed the pillar be- 
 hind which John Heywood was standing, she was talking 
 in unrestrained gayety with her second maid of honor; 
 and a clear and lively laugh rang from her lips, which dis- 
 closed both rows of her dazzling white teeth. Her eyes 
 sparkled; her cheeks were flushed with a rich red; bright 
 as stars glittered the diamonds in the diadem that encir- 
 cled her lofty brow; like liquid gold shone her dress of 
 gold brocade, the long trail of which, trimmed with black 
 ermine, was borne by two lovely pages. 
 
 Arrived at the door of her bed-chamber, the queen 
 dismissed her pages and lackeys, and permitted only the 
 maid of honor to cross the threshold of her chamber with 
 her. 
 
 In harmless gossip the pages glided down the corridor 
 and the staircase.' Then came the lackeys who bore the 
 candelabra. They also left the corridor. 
 
 Now all was quiet again. Still John Heywood stood 
 and listened, firmly resolved to speak to the queen yet that 
 night, even should he be obliged to wake her from sleep. 
 Only he wanted to wait till the maid of honor also had left 
 the queen's room. 
 
 Now the door opened, and the maid of honor came out. 
 She crossed the corridor to that side where her own apart- 
 ments were situated. John Heywood heard her open the 
 door and then slide the bolt on the inside. 
 
 "Now but a brief time longer, and I will go to the 
 queen," muttered John Heywood. 
 
 He was just going to leave his lurking-place, when he 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 325> 
 
 perceived a noise as if a door were slowly and cautiously 
 opened. 
 
 John Heywood cowered again close behind the pillar,, 
 and held his breath to listen. 
 
 A bright light fell over the corridor. A dress came 
 rustling nearer and nearer. 
 
 John Heywood gazed astounded and amazed at the fig- 
 ure, which just brushed past without seeing him. 
 
 That figure was Lady Jane Douglas — Lady Jane, who,, 
 on account of indisposition, had retired from the feast in 
 order to betake herself to rest. Now, when all rested,, 
 she watched — when all laid aside their festive garments,, 
 she had adorned herself with the same. Like the queen,, 
 she wore a dress of gold brocade, trimmed with ermine, 
 and, like her, a diadem of diamonds adorned Lady Jane's 
 brow. 
 
 Now she stood before the queen's door and listened. 
 Then a fierce sneer flitted across her deathly pale face, and 
 her dark eyes flashed still more. 
 
 " She sleeps," muttered she. " Only sleep, queen — 
 sleep till we shall come to wake you! Sleep, so that I can< 
 wake for you." 
 
 She raised her arm threateningly toward the door, and 
 wildly shook her head. Her long black ringlets encircled 
 and danced around her sullen brow like the snakes of the' 
 furies; and pale and colorless, and with demon-like beauty,, 
 she resembled altogether the goddess of vengeance, in 
 scornful triumph preparing to tread her victim beneath 
 her feet. 
 
 With a low laugh she now glided adown the corridor, 
 but not to that staircase yonder, but farther down to the 
 end, where on the wall hung a life-size picture of Henry 
 the Sixth. She pressed on a spring; the picture flew open, 
 and through the door concealed behind it Lady Jane left 
 the corridor. 
 
 " She is going to the green-room to a meeting with 
 Henry Howard!" whispered John Heywood, who now 
 
326 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 stepped forth from behind the pillar. " Oh, now I com- 
 prehend it all; now the whole of this devilish plot is clear 
 to me; Lady Jane is Earl Surrey's lady-love, and they 
 want to make the king believe that it is the queen. 
 Doubtless this Surrey is with them in the conspiracy, and 
 perhaps he will call Jane Douglas by the name of the 
 queen. They will let the king see her but a moment. She 
 wears a gold brocade dress and a diamond diadem like the 
 queen; and thereby they hope to deceive Henry. She has 
 the queen's form precisely; and everybody knows the aston- 
 ishing similarity and likeness of Lady Jane's voice to that 
 of the queen. Oh, oh, it is a tolerably cunning plot! But 
 nevertheless you shall not succeed, and you shall not yet 
 gain the victory. Patience, only patience! We likewise 
 will be in the green-room, and face to face with this royal 
 counterfeit we will place the genuine queen! " 
 
 With hurried step John Heywood also left the cor- 
 ridor, which was now lonely and still, for the queen had 
 gone to rest. 
 
 Yes, the queen slept, and yet over yonder in the green- 
 room everything was prepared for her reception. 
 
 It was to be a very brilliant and extraordinary recep- 
 tion; for the king, in his own person, had betaken himself 
 to that wing of the castle, and the chief master of cere- 
 monies, Earl Douglas, had accompanied him. 
 
 To the king, this excursion, which he had to make on 
 foot, had been very troublesome; and this inconvenience 
 had made him only still more furious and excited, and the 
 last trace of compassion for his queen had disappeared from 
 the king's breast, for on Catharine's account he had been 
 obliged to make this long journey to the green-room; and 
 with a grim joy Henry thought only how terrible was to 
 be his punishment for Henry Howard and also for Catha- 
 rine. 
 
 Now that Earl Douglas had brought him hither, the 
 king no longer had any doubts at all of the queen's guilt. 
 It was no longer an accusation — it was proof. For never 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 327 
 
 in the world would Earl Douglas have dared to bring him, 
 the king, hither, if he were not certain that he would give 
 him here infallible proofs. 
 
 The king, therefore, no longer doubted; at last Henry 
 Howard was in his power, and he could no more escape 
 him. So he was certain of being able to bring these two 
 hated enemies to the block, and of feeling his sleep no 
 longed disturbed by thoughts of his two powerful rivals. 
 
 The Duke of Norfolk had already passed the gates of 
 the Tower, and his son must soon follow him thither. 
 
 At this thought the king felt an ecstasy so savage and 
 bloodthirsty, that he wholly forgot that the same sword 
 that was to strike Henry Howard's head was drawn on his 
 queen also. 
 
 They were now standing in the green-room, and 
 the king leaned panting and moaning on Earl Douglas's 
 arm. 
 
 The large wide room, with its antique furniture and 
 its faded glory, was only gloomily and scantily lighted in 
 the middle by the two wax candles of the candelabrum 
 that Earl Douglas had brought with him; while further 
 away it was enveloped in deep gloom, and seemed to the 
 eye through this gloom to stretch out to an interminable 
 length. 
 
 " Through the door over there comes the queen," said 
 Douglas; and he himself shrank at the loud sound of his 
 voice, which in the large, desolate room became of awful 
 fulness. "And that, there, is Henry Howard's entrance. 
 Oh, he knows that path very thoroughly; for he has often 
 enough already travelled it in the dark night, and his foot 
 no longer stumbles on any stone of offence! " 
 
 " But he will perchance stumble on the headsman's 
 block! " muttered the king, with a cruel laugh. 
 
 " I now take the liberty of asking one question more," 
 said Douglas; and the king did not suspect how stormily 
 the earl's heart beat at this question. "Is your majesty 
 satisfied to see the earl and the queen make their appear- 
 
328 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 ance at this meeting? Or, do you desire to listen to a 
 little of the earl's tender protestations?" 
 
 "I will hear not a little, but all!" said the king. 
 "Ah, let us allow the earl yet to sing his swan-like song 
 before he plunges into the sea of blood! " 
 
 " Then," said Earl Douglas, " then we must put out 
 this light, and your majesty must be content merely to 
 hear the guilty ones, and not to see them also. We will 
 then betake ourselves to the boudoir here, which I have 
 opened for this purpose, and in which is an easy-chair for 
 your majesty. We will place this chair near the open 
 door, and then your majesty will be able to hear every 
 word of their tender whisperings." 
 
 " But how shall we, if we extinguish this our only 
 light, at last attain to a sight of this dear loving pair, and 
 be able to afford them the dramatic surprise of our pres- 
 ence ? " 
 
 " Sire, as soon as the Earl of Surrey enters, twenty 
 men of the king's bodyguard will occupy the anteroom 
 through which the earl must pass; and it needs but a call 
 from you to have them enter the hall with their torches. 
 I have taken care also that before the private back- 
 gate of the palace two coaches stand ready, the drivers 
 of which know very well the street that leads to the 
 Tower! " 
 
 "Two coaches?" said the king, laughing. "Ah, ah, 
 Douglas, how cruel we are to separate the tender, loving 
 pair on this journey which is yet to be their last! Well, 
 perhaps we can compensate them for it, and allow these 
 turtledoves to make the last trip — the trip to the stake — 
 together. No, no, we will not separate them in death. 
 Together they may lay their heads on the block." 
 
 The king laughed, quite delighted with his jest, while, 
 leaning on the earl's arm, he crossed to the little boudoir 
 on the other side, and took his place in the armchair set 
 near the door. 
 
 " Now we must extinguish the light; and may it please 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 329 
 
 your majesty to await in silence the things that are to 
 come." 
 
 The earl extinguished the light, and deep darkness and 
 a grave-like stillness now followed. 
 
 But this did not last long. Now was heard quite dis- 
 tinctly the sound of footsteps. They came nearer and 
 nearer — now a door was heard to open and shut again, and 
 it was as though some one were creeping softly along on 
 his toes in the hall. 
 
 "Henry Howard!" whispered Douglas. 
 
 The king could scarcely restrain the cry of savage, 
 malicious delight that forced its way to his lips. 
 
 The hated enemy was then in his power; he was con- 
 victed of the crime; he was inevitably lost. 
 
 " Geraldine ! " whispered a voice, "Geraldine!" 
 
 And as if his low call had already been sufficient to 
 draw hither the loved one, the secret door here quite close 
 to the boudoir opened. The rustling of a dress was very 
 distinctly heard, and the sound of footsteps. 
 
 " Geraldine ! " repeated Earl Surrey. 
 
 " Here I am, my Henry! " 
 
 "With an exclamation of delight, the woman rushed for- 
 ward toward the sound of the loved voice. 
 
 " The queen! " muttered Henry; and in spite of him- 
 self he felt his heart seized with bitter grief. 
 
 He saw with his inward eye how they held each other 
 in their embrace. He heard their kisses and the low whis- 
 per of their tender vows, and all the agonies of jeal- 
 ousy and wrath filled his soul. But yet the king pre- 
 vailed upon himself to be silent and swallow down 
 his rage. He wanted to hear everything, to know every- 
 thing. 
 
 He clenched his hands convulsively, and pressed his 
 lips firmly together to hold in his panting breath. He 
 wanted to hear. 
 
 How happy they both were! Henry had wholly for- 
 gotten that he had come to reproach her for her long 
 22 
 
330 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 silence; she did not think about this being the last time 
 she might see her lover. 
 
 They were with each other, and this hour was theirs. 
 What did the whole world matter to them? What cared 
 they whether or not mischief and ruin threatened them 
 hereafter? 
 
 They sat by each other on the divan, quite near the 
 boudoir. They jested and laughed; and Henry Howard 
 kissed away the tears that the happiness of the present 
 caused his Geraldine to shed. 
 
 He swore to her eternal and unchanging love. In 
 blissful silence she drank in the music of his words; and^ 
 then she reiterated, with jubilant joy, his vows of love. 
 
 The king could scarcely restrain his fury. 
 
 The heart of Earl Douglas leaped with satisfaction and 
 gratification. " A lucky thing that Jane has no suspicion 
 of our presence," thought he — " otherwise she would have 
 been less unrestrained and ardent, and the king's ear 
 would have imbibed less poison." 
 
 Lady Jane thought not at all of her father; she scarce- 
 ly remembered that this very night would destroy her 
 hated rival the queen. 
 
 Henry Howard had called her his Geraldine only.. 
 Jane had entirely forgot that it was not she to whom her 
 lover had given this name. 
 
 But he himself finally reminded her of it. 
 
 " Do you know, Geraldine," said Earl Surrey — and his 
 voice, which had been hitherto so cheerful and sprightly,, 
 was now sad — " do you know, Geraldine, that I have had 
 doubts of you? Oh, those were frightful, horrible hours; 
 and in the agony of my heart I came at last to the resolu- 
 tion of going to the king and accusing myself of this love 
 that was consuming my heart. Oh, fear naught! I would 
 not have accused you. I would have even denied that love 
 which you have so often and with such transporting reality 
 sworn to me. I would have done it in order to see whether 
 my Geraldine could at last gain courage and strength to- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 33J 
 
 acknowledge her love openly and frankly; whether her 
 heart had the power to burst that iron band which the 
 deceitful rules of the world had placed around it; whether 
 she would acknowledge her lover when he was willing to 
 die for her. Yes, Geraldine, I wanted to do it, that I 
 might finally know which feeling is stronger in you — love 
 or pride — and whether you could then still preserve the 
 mask of indifference, when death was hovering over your 
 lovers head. Oh, Geraldine, I should deem it a fairer fate 
 to die united with you, than to be obliged to still longer 
 endure this life of constraint and hateful etiquette." 
 
 " No, no," said she, trembling, " we will not die. My 
 God, life is indeed so beautiful when you are by my side! 
 And who knows whether a felicitous and blissful future 
 may not still await us? " 
 
 " Oh, should we die, then should we be certain of thifc. 
 blissful future, my Geraldine. There, above, there is no 
 more separation — no more renunciation for ,us. There 
 above, you are mine, and the bloody image of your husband 
 no longer stands between us." 
 
 " It shall no longer do so, even here on earth," whis- 
 pered Geraldine. " Come, my beloved; let us fly far, far 
 hence, where no one knows us — where we can cast from us 
 all this hated splendor, to live for each other and for love." 
 
 She threw her arms about her lover, and in the ecstasy 
 of her love she had wholly forgotten that she could never 
 indeed think to flee with him, that he belonged to her 
 only so long as he saw her not. 
 
 An inexplicable anxiety overpowered her heart; and in 
 this anxiety she forgot everything — even the queen and 
 the vengeance she had vowed. 
 
 She now remembered her father's words, and she trem- 
 bled for her lover's life. 
 
 If now her father had not told her the truth — if now 
 he had notwithstanding sacrificed Henry Howard in order 
 to ruin the queen — if she was not able to save him, and 
 through her fault he were to perish on the scaffold 
 
332 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 But still this hour was hers, and she would enjoy it. 
 
 She clung fast to his breast; she drew him with irre- 
 sistible force to her heart, which now trembled no longer 
 for love, but from a nameless anxiety. 
 
 "Let us fly! Let us fly!" repeated she, breathlessly. 
 See! This hour is yet ours. Let us avail ourselves 
 of it; for who knows whether the next will still belong 
 to us?" 
 
 "No! it is no longer yours," yelled the king, as he 
 .sprang like a roused lion from his seat. " Your hours are 
 numbered, and the next already belongs to the hangman! " 
 
 A piercing shriek burst from Geraldine's lips. Then 
 was heard a dull fall. 
 
 " She has fainted," muttered Earl Douglas. 
 
 " Geraldine, Geraldine, my loved one!" cried Henry 
 Howard. "My God, my God! she is dying! You have 
 killed her! Woe to you! " 
 
 "Woe to yourself!" said the king, solemnly. "Here 
 with the light! Here, you folks! " 
 
 The door of the anteroom opened, and in it appeared 
 four soldiers with torches in their hands. 
 
 " Light the candles, and guard the door! " said the 
 king, whose dazzled eyes were not yet able to bear this 
 bright glare of light which now suddenly streamed 
 through the room. 
 
 The soldiers obeyed his orders. A pause ensued. The 
 king had put his hand before his eyes, and was struggling 
 for breath and self-control. 
 
 When at length he let his hand glide down, his fea- 
 tures had assumed a perfectly calm, almost a serene ex- 
 pression. 
 
 With a hasty glance he surveyed the room. He saw 
 the queen in her dress glistening with gold; he saw how 
 she lay on the floor, stretched at full length, her face 
 turned to the ground, motionless and rigid. 
 
 He saw Henry Howard, who knelt by his beloved and 
 was busy about her with all the anxiety and agony of a 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 333 
 
 lover. He saw how he pressed her hands to his lips; how 
 he put his hand to her head to raise it from the floor. 
 
 The king was speechless with rage. He could only lift 
 his arm to beckon the soldiers to approach; to point to 
 Henry Howard, who had not yet succeeded in raising the 
 queen's head from the floor. 
 
 "Arrest him!" said Earl Douglas, lending words to 
 the king's mute sign. "In the king's name arrest him, 
 and conduct him to the Tower! " 
 
 " Yes, arrest him! " said the king; and, as with youth- 
 ful speed he walked up to Henry Howard and put his hand 
 heavily on his shoulder, he with terrible calmness con- 
 tinued: " Henry Howard, your wish shall be fulfilled; you 
 shall mount the scaffold for which you have so much 
 longed! " 
 
 The earl's noble countenance remained calm and un- 
 moved; his bright beaming eye fearlessly encountered the 
 eye of the king flashing with wrath. 
 
 " Sire," said he, " my life is in your hand, and I very 
 well know that you will not spare it. I do not even ask 
 you to do so. But spare this noble and beautiful woman, 
 whose only crime is that she has followed the voice of her 
 heart. Sire, I alone am the guilty one. Punish me, then 
 — torture me, if you like — but be merciful to her." 
 
 The king broke out into a loud laugh. " Ah, he begs 
 for her! " said he. " This little Earl Surrey presumes to 
 think that his sentimental love-plaint can exercise an in- 
 fluence on the heart of his judge! No, no, Henry Howard; 
 you know me better. You say, indeed, that I am a cruel 
 man, and that blood cleaves to my crown. Well, now, it is 
 our pleasure to set in our crown a new blood-red ruby; and 
 if we want to take it from Geraldine's heart's blood, your 
 sonnets will not hinder us from doing so, my good little 
 earl. That is all the reply I have to make to you; and I 
 think it will be the last time that we shall meet on earth! " 
 
 " There above we shall see each other again, King 
 Henry of England! " said Earl Surrey, solemnly, u There 
 
334 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 above Henry the Eighth will no more be the judge, but 
 the condemned criminal; and your bloody and accursed 
 deeds will witness against you! " 
 
 The king laughed. " You avail yourself of your ad- 
 vantage," said he. " Because you have nothing more to 
 lose and the scaffold is sure of you, you do not stick at 
 heaping up the measure of your sins a little more, and you 
 revile your legitimate, God-appointed king! But you 
 should bear in mind, earl, that before the scaffold there 
 is yet the rack, and that it is very possible indeed that a 
 painful question might there be put to the noble Earl Sur- 
 rey, to which his agonies might prevent him from return- 
 ing an answer. Now, away with you! We have nothing 
 more to say to each other on earth! n 
 
 He motioned to the soldiers, who approached the EarL 
 of Surrey. As they reached their hands toward him, he 
 turned on them a look so proud and commanding that they 
 involuntarily recoiled a step. 
 
 " Follow me ! " said Henry Howard, calmly; and, with- 
 out even deigning the king a single look more, with head 
 proudly erect, he walked to the door. 
 
 Geraldine still lay on the ground — her face turned to 
 the floor. She stirred not. She seemed to have fallen 
 into a deep swoon. 
 
 Only as the door with a sullen sound closed behind 
 Earl Surrey, a low wail and moan was perceived — such as is 
 wont to struggle forth at the last hour from the breast of 
 the dying. 
 
 The king did not heed it. He still gazed, with eyes 
 stern and flashing with anger, toward the door through 
 which Earl Surrey had passed. 
 
 "He is unyielding," muttered he. "Not even the 
 rack affrights him; and in his blasphemous haughtiness he 
 moves along in the midst of the soldiers, not as a prisoner, 
 but as a commander. Oh, these Howards are destined to 
 torment me; and even their death will scarcely be a full 
 satisfaction to me." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 335 
 
 " Sire," said Earl Douglas, who had observed the king 
 with a keen, penetrating eye, and knew that he had now 
 reached the height of his wrath, at which he shrank from 
 no deed of violence and no cruelty — " sire, you have sent 
 Earl Surrey to the Tower. But what shall be done with 
 the queen, who lies there on the floor in a swoon? " 
 
 The king roused himself from his reverie; and his 
 bloodshot eyes were fixed on Geraldine's motionless form 
 with so dark an expression of hate and rage, that Earl 
 Douglas exultingly said to himself: " The queen is lost! 
 He will be inexorable ! " 
 
 " Ah, the queen! " cried Henry, with a savage laugh. 
 " Yea, verily, I forgot the queen. I did not think of this 
 charming Geraldine! But you are right, Douglas; we 
 must think of her and occupy ourselves a little with her! 
 Did you not say that a second coach was ready? Well, 
 then, we will not hinder Geraldine from accompanying her 
 beloved. She shall be where he is — in the Tower, and on 
 the scaffold! We will therefore wake this sentimental 
 lady and show her the last duty of a cavalier by conducting 
 her to her carriage! " 
 
 He was about to approach the figure of the queen lying 
 on the floor. Earl Douglas held him back. 
 
 " Sire," said he, " it is my duty — as your faithful sub- 
 ject, who loves you and trembles for your welfare — it is my 
 duty to implore you to spare yourself and preserve your 
 precious and adored person from the venomous sting of 
 anger and grief. I conjure you, therefore, do not deign 
 to look again on this woman, who has so deeply injured 
 you. Give me your orders — what am I to do with her — 
 and allow me first of all to accompany you to your apart- 
 ments." 
 
 " You are right," said the king, " she is not worthy of 
 having my eyes rest on her again; and she is even too 
 contemptible for my anger! We will call the soldiers that 
 they may conduct this traitress and adulteress to the 
 tower, as they have done her paramour." 
 
336 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 " Yet for that there is needed still a formality. The 
 queen will not be admitted into the Tower without the 
 king's written and sealed order." 
 
 " Then I will draw up that order." 
 
 " Sire, in that cabinet yonder may be found the neces- 
 sary writing-materials, if it please your majesty." 
 
 The king leaned in silence on the earl's arm, and 
 allowed himself to be led again into the cabinet. 
 
 With officious haste Earl Douglas made the necessary 
 arrangements. He rolled the writing-table up to the king; 
 he placed the large sheet of white paper in order, and 
 slipped the pen into the king's hand. 
 
 " What shall I write ? " asked the king, who, by the 
 exertion of his night's excursion, and of his anger and 
 vexation, began at length to be exhausted. 
 
 " An order for the queen's imprisonment, sire." 
 
 The king wrote. Earl Douglas stood behind him, with 
 eager attention, in breathless expectation, his look steadily 
 fixed on the paper over which the king's hand, white, 
 fleshy, and sparkling with diamonds, glided along in hasty 
 characters. 
 
 He had at length reached his goal. When at last he 
 should hold in his hand the paper which the king was then 
 writing — when he had induced Henry to return to his 
 apartments before the imprisonment of the queen had 
 taken place — then was he victorious. Not that woman 
 there would he then imprison; but, with the warrant in 
 his hand, he would go to the real queen, and take her 
 to the Tower. 
 
 Once in the Tower, the queen could no longer defend 
 herself; for the king would see her no more; and if be- 
 fore the Parliament she protested her innocence in ever 
 so sacred oaths, still the king's testimony must con- 
 vict her; for he had himself surprised her with her para- 
 mour. 
 
 No, there was no escape for the queen. She had once 
 succeeded in clearing herself of an accusation, and proving 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. gS7 
 
 her innocence, by a rebutting alibi. But this time she 
 was irretrievably lost, and no alibi could deliver her. 
 
 The king completed his work and arose, whilst Doug- 
 las, at his command, was employed in setting the king's 
 seal to the fatal paper. 
 
 From the hall was heard a slight noise, as though some 
 person were cautiously moving about there. 
 
 Earl Douglas did not notice it; he was just in the act 
 of pressing the signet hard on the melted sealing-wax. 
 
 The king heard it, and supposed that it was Geraldine, 
 and that she was just waking from her swoon and rising. 
 
 He stepped to the door of the hall, and looked toward 
 the place where she was lying. But no — she had not yet 
 risen; she still lay stretched at full length on the floor. 
 
 " She has come to; but she still pretends to be in a 
 swoon," thought the king; and he turned to Douglas. 
 
 " "We are done," said he; " the warrant for imprison- 
 ment is prepared, and the sentence of the adulterous 
 queen is spoken. We have done with her forever; and 
 never shall she again behold our face, or again hear our 
 voice. She is sentenced and damned, and the royal mercy 
 has nothing more to do with this sinner. A curse on the 
 adulteress! A curse on the shameless woman who de- 
 ceived her huband, and gave herself up to a traitorous 
 paramour! Woe to her, and may shame and disgrace for- 
 ever mark her name, which " 
 
 Suddenly the king stopped and listened. The noise 
 that he had heard just before was now repeated louder 
 and quicker; it came nearer and nearer. 
 
 And now the door opened and a figure entered — a 
 figure which made the king stare with astonishment and 
 admiration. It came nearer and nearer, light, graceful, 
 and with the freshness of youth; a gold-brocade dress 
 enveloped it; a diadem of diamonds sparkled on the 
 brow; and brighter yet than the diamonds beamed the 
 eyes. 
 
 "No, the king was not mistaken. It was the queen. 
 
338 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 She was standing before him — and yet she still lay mo- 
 tionless and stiff upon the floor yonder. 
 
 The king uttered a cry, and, turning pale, reeled a step 
 backward. 
 
 " The queen! " exclaimed Douglas, in terror; and he 
 trembled so violently that the paper in his hand rattled 
 and fluttered. 
 
 " Yes, the queen! " said Catharine, with a haughty 
 smile. " The queen, who comes to scold her husband, 
 that, contrary to his physician's orders, he still refrains 
 from his slumbers at so late an hour of the night." 
 
 "And the fool! " said John Hey wood, as with humor- 
 ous pathos he stepped forward from behind the queen — 
 "the fool, who comes to ask Earl Douglas how he dared 
 deprive John Heywood of his office, and usurp the place of 
 king's fool to Henry, and deceive his most gracious majesty 
 with all manner of silly pranks and carnival tricks." 
 
 "And who" — asked the king, in a voice quivering 
 with rage, fastening his flashing looks on Douglas with 
 an annihilating expression — "who, then, is that woman 
 there? Who has dared with such cursed mummery to 
 deceive the king, and calumniate the queen? " 
 
 " Sire," said Earl Douglas, who very well knew that 
 his future and that of his daughter depended on the pres- 
 ent moment, and whom this consciousness had speedily 
 restored to his self-possession and calmness — "sire, I be- 
 seech your majesty for a moment of private explanation; 
 and I shall be entirely successful in vindicating myself." 
 
 " Do not grant it him, brother Henry," said John Hey- 
 wood; " he is a dangerous juggler; and who knows whether 
 he may not yet, in his private conversation, convince you 
 that he is king, and you nothing more than his lickspittle, 
 fawning, hypocritical servant Earl Archibald Douglas." 
 
 "My lord and husband, I beg you to hear the earl's 
 justification," said Catharine, as she extended her hand 
 to the king with a bewitching smile. " It would be cruel 
 to condemn him unheard." 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 339 
 
 " I will hear him, but it shall be done in your presence, 
 Kate, and you yourself shall decide whether or not his 
 justification is sufficient." 
 
 " No indeed, my husband; let me remain an entire 
 stranger to this night's conspiracy, so that spite and anger 
 may not fill my heart and rob me of the supreme confidence 
 which I need, to be able to walk on at your side happy and 
 smiling in the midst of my enemies." 
 
 "You are right, Kate," said the king, thoughtfully. 
 "You have many enemies at our court; and we have to 
 accuse ourselves that we have not always succeeded in stop- 
 ping our ear to their malicious whisperings, and in keep- 
 ing ourselves pure from the poisonous breath of their cal- 
 umny. Our heart is still too artless, and we cannot even 
 yet comprehend that men are a disgusting, corrupt race, 
 which one should tread beneath his feet, but never take to 
 his heart. Come, Earl Douglas, I will hear you; but woe 
 to you, if you are unable to justify yourself! " 
 
 He retired to the embrasure of the large window of 
 the boudoir. Earl Douglas followed him thither, and let 
 the heavy velvet curtain drop behind them. 
 
 " Sire," said he, hardily and resolutely, " the question 
 now is this: Whose head would you rather give over to 
 the executioner, mine or the Earl of Surrey's? You have 
 the choice between the two. You are aware that I have 
 ventured for a moment to deceive you. Well, send me to 
 the Tower then, and set free the noble Henry Howard, 
 that he may henceforth disturb your sleep and poison your 
 days; that he may further court the love of the people, 
 and perhaps some day rob your son of the throne that be- 
 longs to him. Here is my head, sire; it is forfeited to the 
 headsman's axe, and Earl Surrey is free! " 
 
 " No, he is not free, and never shall be! " said the king, 
 grinding his teeth. 
 
 " Then, my king, I am justified; and instead of being 
 angry with me, you will thank me? It is true I have 
 flayed a hazardous game, but I did so in the service of my 
 
340 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 king. I did it because I loved him, and because I read on 
 your lofty clouded brow the thoughts that begirt with 
 darkness my master's soul, and disturbed the sleep of his 
 nights. You wanted to have Henry Howard in your 
 power; and this crafty and hypocritical earl knew how to 
 conceal his guilt so securely under the mask of virtue and 
 loftiness of soul! But I knew him, and behind this mask 
 I had seen his face distorted with passion and crime. I 
 wanted to unmask him; but for this, it was necessary 
 that I should deceive first him, and then for the hour 
 even yourself. I knew that he burned with an adulter- 
 ous love for the queen, and I wanted to avail myself of 
 the madness of this passion, in order to bring him surely 
 and unavoidably to a richly-deserved punishment. But I 
 would not draw the pure and exalted person of the queen 
 into this net with which we wanted to surround Earl Sur- 
 rey. I was obliged, then, to seek a substitute for her; and 
 I did so. There was at your court a woman whose whole 
 heart belongs, after God, to the king alone; and who so 
 much adores him, that she would be ready at any hour 
 gladly to sacrifice for the king her heart's blood, her whole 
 being — ay, if need be, even her honor itself — a woman, 
 sire, who lives by your smile, and worships you as her re- 
 deemer and savior — a woman whom you might, as you 
 pleased, make a saint or a strumpet; and who, to please- 
 you, would be a shameless Phyrne or a chaste veiled nun."" 
 
 " Tell me her name, Douglas," said the king, " tell 
 me it! It is a rare and precious stroke of fortune to be 
 so loved; and it would be a sin not to want to enjoy this- 
 good fortune." 
 
 " Sire, I will tell you her name when you have first 
 forgiven me," said Douglas, whose heart leaped for joy, 
 and who well understood that the king's anger was already 
 mollified and the danger now almost overcome. " I said 
 to this woman: ' You are to do the king a great service; 
 you are to deliver him from a powerful and dangerous foe? 
 You are to save him from Henry Howard! ' ' Tell me* 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 341 
 
 what I must do! ' cried she, her looks beaming with joy. 
 * Henry Howard loves the queen. You must be the queen 
 to him. You must receive his letters, and answer them 
 in the queen's name. You must grant him interviews by 
 night, and, favored by the darkness of the night, make 
 him believe that it is the queen whom he holds in his arms. 
 He must be convinced that the queen is his lady-love; and 
 in his thoughts, as in his deeds, he must be placed before 
 the king as a traitor and criminal whose head is forfeited 
 to the headsman's axe. One day we will let the king be 
 a witness of a meeting that Henry Howard believes he 
 has with the queen; it will then be in his power to punish 
 his enemy for his criminal passion, which is worthy of 
 death! ' And as I thus spoke to the woman, sire, she said 
 with a sad smile : ' It is a disgraceful and dishonorable part 
 that you assign me; but I undertake it, for you say I may 
 thereby render a service to the king. I shall disgrace my- 
 self for him; but he will perhaps bestow upon me in 
 return a gracious smile; and then I shall be abundantly 
 rewarded.' " 
 
 " But this woman is an angel! " cried the king, ardent- 
 ly — " an angel whom we should kneel to and adore. Tell 
 me her name, Douglas! " 
 
 " Sire, as soon as you have forgiven me !' You know 
 now all my guilt and all my crime. For, as I bade that 
 noble woman, so it came to pass, and Henry Howard has 
 gone to the Tower in the firm belief that it was the queen 
 whom he just now held in his arms." 
 
 "But why did you leave me in this belief, Douglas? 
 Why did you fill my heart with wrath against the noble 
 and virtuous queen also? " 
 
 " Sire, I dared not reveal the deception to you before 
 you had sentenced Surrey, for your noble and just moral 
 sense would have been reluctant to punish him on account 
 of a crime that he had not committed; and in your first 
 wrath you would also have blamed this noble woman who* 
 has sacrificed herself for her king/' 
 
34:2 HENRY VIH. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " It is true," said the king, " I should have misjudged 
 this noble woman, and, instead of thanking her, I should 
 have destroyed her." 
 
 " Therefore, my king, I quietly allowed you to make 
 out an order for the queen's incarceration. But you re- 
 member well, sire, I begged you to return to your apart- 
 ments before the queen was arrested. Well, now, there I 
 should have disclosed to you the whole secret, which I 
 could not tell you in the presence of that woman. For 
 she would die of shame if she suspected that you knew of 
 her love for the king, so pure and self-sacrificing, and cher- 
 ished in such heroic silence." 
 
 " She shall never know it, Douglas! But now at 
 length satisfy my desire. Tell me her name." 
 
 " Sire, you have forgiven me, then? You are no 
 longer angry with me that I dared to deceive you? " 
 
 " I am no longer angry with you, Douglas; for you 
 have acted rightly. The plan, which you have contrived 
 and carried out with such happy results, was as crafty as it 
 was daring." 
 
 " I thank you, sire; and I will now tell you the name. 
 That woman, sire, who at my wish gave herself up a sacri- 
 fice to this adulterous earl, who endured his kisses, his em- 
 braces, his vows of love, in order to render a service to her 
 king — that woman was my daughter, Lady Jane Douglas!" 
 
 " Lady Jane! " cried the king. " No, no, this is a new 
 deception. That haughty, chaste, and unapproachable 
 Lady Jane — that wonderfully beautiful marble statue 
 really has then a heart in her breast, and that heart be- 
 longs to me? Lady Jane, the pure and chaste virgin, has 
 made for me this prodigious sacrifice, of receiving this 
 hated Surrey as her lover, in order, like a second Delilah, 
 to deliver him into my hand? No, Douglas, you are lying 
 to me. Lady Jane has not done that! " 
 
 " May it please your majesty to go yourself and take a 
 look at that fainting woman, who was to Henry Howard 
 the queen." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 343 
 
 The king did not reply to him; but he drew back the 
 curtain and reentered the cabinet, in which the queen was 
 waiting with John Heywood. 
 
 Henry did not notice them. With youthful precipita- 
 tion he crossed the cabinet and the hall. Now he stood by 
 the figure of Geraldine still lying on the floor. 
 
 She was no longer in a swoon. She had long since re- 
 gained her consciousness; and terrible were the agonies 
 and tortures that rent her heart. Henry Howard had in- 
 curred the penalty of the headsman's axe, and it was she 
 that had betrayed him. 
 
 But her father had sworn to her that she should save 
 her lover. 
 
 She durst not die then. She must live to deliver 
 Henry Howard. 
 
 There were burning, as it were, the fires of hell in her 
 poor heart; but she was not at liberty to heed these pains. 
 She could not think of herself — only of him — of Henry 
 Howard, whom she must deliver, whom she must save from 
 an ignominious death. 
 
 For him she sent up her fervent prayers to God; for 
 him her heart trembled with anxiety and agony, as the 
 king now advanced to her, and, bending down, gazed into 
 her eyes with a strange expression, at once scrutinizing 
 and smiling. 
 
 " Lady Jane," said he then, as he presented her his 
 hand, " arise from the ground and allow your king to ex- 
 press to you his thanks for your sublime and wonderful 
 sacrifice! Verily, it is a fair lot to be a king; for then one 
 has at least the power of punishing traitors, and of reward- 
 ing those that serve us. I have to-day done the one, and I 
 will not neglect to do the other also. Stand up, then, 
 Lady Jane; it does not become you to lie on your knees 
 before me." 
 
 " Oh, let me kneel, my king," said she, passionately; 
 "let me beseech you for mercy, for pity! Have compas- 
 sion, King Henry — compassion on the anxiety and agony 
 
344 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 which I endure. It is not possible that this is all a reality! 
 that this juggling is to be changed into such terrible ear- 
 nest! Tell me, King Henry — I conjure you by the agonies 
 which I suffer for your sake — tell me, what will you do 
 with Henry Howard? Why have you sent him to the 
 Tower?" 
 
 " To punish the traitor as he deserves," said the king, 
 as he cast a dark and angry look across at Douglas, who 
 had also approached his daughter, and was now standing 
 close by her. 
 
 Lady Jane uttered a heartrending cry, and sank down 
 again, senseless and completely exhausted. 
 
 The king frowned. " It is possible," said he — " and I 
 almost believe it — that I have been deceived in many 
 ways this evening, and that now again my guilelessness has 
 been played upon in order to impose upon me a charming 
 story. However, I have given my word to pardon; and it 
 shall not be said that Henry the Eighth, who calls himself 
 God's vicegerent, has ever broken his word; nor even that 
 he has punished those whom he has assured of exemption 
 from punishment. My Lord Douglas, I will fulfil my 
 promise. I forgive you." 
 
 He extended his hand to Douglas, who kissed it fer- 
 vently. The king bent down closer to him. " Douglas," 
 whispered he, " you are as cunning as a serpent; and I now 
 see through your artfully-woven web! You wanted to de- 
 stroy Surrey, but the queen was to sink into the abyss with 
 him. Because I am indebted to you for Surrey, I forgive 
 you what you have done to the queen. But take heed to 
 yourself, take heed that I do not meet you again on the 
 same track; do not ever try again, by a look, a word, ay, 
 even by a smile, to cast suspicion on the queen. The 
 slightest attempt would cost you your life! That I swear 
 to you by the holy mother of God; and you know that I 
 have never yet broken that oath. As regards Lady Jane, 
 we do not want to consider that she has misused the name 
 of our illustrious and virtuous consort in order to draw this 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 345 
 
 lustful and adulterous earl into the net which you had set 
 for him; she obeyed your orders, Douglas; and we will not 
 now decide what other motives besides have urged her to 
 this deed. She may settle that with God and her own 
 conscience, and it does not behoove us to decide about it." 
 
 " But it behooves me, perhaps, my husband, to ask by 
 what right Lady Jane has dared to appear here in this at- 
 tire, and to present to a certain degree a counterfeit of 
 her queen?" asked Catharine in a sharp tone. "I may 
 well be allowed to ask what has made my maid of honor, 
 who left the festive hall sick, now all at once so well that 
 she goes roaming about the castle in the night time, and 
 in a dress which seems likely to be mistaken for mine? 
 Sire, was this dress perchance a craftily-devised stratagem, 
 in order to really confound us with one another? You are 
 silent, my lord and king. It is true, then, they have want- 
 ed to carry out a terrible plot against me; and, without the 
 assistance of my faithful and honest friend, John Hey- 
 wood, who brought me here, I should without doubt be 
 now condemned and lost, as the Earl of Surrey is." 
 
 " Ah, John, it was you then that brought a little light 
 into this darkness? " cried the king, with a cheerful laugh, 
 as he laid his hand on Heywood's shoulder. u Now, verily, 
 what the wise and prudent did not see, that the fool has 
 seen through! " 
 
 "King Henry of England," said John Heywood, sol- 
 emnly, " many call themselves wise, and yet they are fools; 
 and many assume the mask of folly, because fools are al- 
 lowed to be wise." 
 
 " Kate," said the king, " you are right; this was a bad 
 night for you, but God and the fool have saved you and me. 
 We will both be thankful for it. But it is well if you do 
 as you before wished, and ask and inquire nothing more 
 concerning the mysteries of this night. It was brave in 
 you to come here, and I will be mindful of it. Come, my 
 little queen, give me your arm and conduct me to my 
 apartments. I tell you, child, it gives me joy to be able 
 23 
 
346 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 to lean on your arm, and see your dear sprightly face? 
 blanched by no fear or terrors of conscience. Come, Kate,, 
 yon alone shall lead me, and to yon alone will I trust 
 myself." 
 
 " Sire, you are too heavy for the queen," said the fool, 
 as he put his neck under the other arm. " Let me share 
 with her the burden of royalty." 
 
 " But before we go," said Catharine, " I have, my hus- 
 band, one request. Will you grant it? " 
 
 "I will grant you everything that you may ask, pro- 
 vided you will not require me to send you to the Tower." 
 
 " Sire, I wish to dismiss my maid of honor, Lady Jane- 
 Douglas, from my service — that is all," said the queen, as* 
 her eyes glanced with an expression of contempt, and yet 
 at the same time of pain, at the form of her friend of other 
 days, prostrate on the floor. 
 
 " She is dismissed! " said the king. u You will choose- 
 another maid of honor to-morrow. Come,. Kate! " 
 
 And the king, supported by his consort and John Hey- 
 wood, left the room with slow and heavy steps. 
 
 Earl Douglas watched them with a sullen, hateful ex- 
 pression. As the door closed after them he raised his arm 
 threateningly toward heaven, and his trembling lips ut- 
 tered a fierce curse and execration. 
 
 " Vanquished! vanquished again! " muttered he, 
 gnashing his teeth. "Humbled by this woman whom I 
 hate, and whom I will yet destroy! Yes, she has con- 
 quered this time; but we will commence the struggle 
 anew, and our envenomed weapon shall nevertheless strike 
 her at last! " 
 
 Suddenly he felt a hand laid heavily on his shoulder, 
 and a pair of glaring, flaming eyes gazed at him. 
 
 " Father," said Lady Jane, as she threw her right hand 
 threateningly toward heaven — " father, as true as there 
 is a God above us, I will accuse you yourself to the king as 
 a traitor — I will betray to him all your accursed plots — if 
 you do not help me to deliver Henry Howardt " 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 347 
 
 Her father looked with an expression almost melan- 
 choly in her face, painfully convulsed and pale as marble. 
 " I will help you! " said he. " I will do it, if you will help 
 me also, and further my plans/' 
 
 " Oh, only save Henry Howard, and I will sign myself 
 away to the devil with my heart's blood! "said Jane Doug- 
 las, with a horrible smile. " Save his life, or, if you have 
 not the power to do that, then at least procure me the hap- 
 piness of being able to die with him." 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIL 
 
 UNDECEIVED. 
 
 Parliament, which had not for a long time now ven- 
 tured to offer any further opposition to the king's will — 
 Parliament had acquiesced in his decree. It had accused 
 Earl Surrey of high treason; and, on the sole testimony of 
 his mother and his sister, he had been declared guilty of 
 lese majeste and high treason. A few words of discontent 
 at his removal from office, some complaining remarks 
 about the numerous executions that drenched England's 
 soil with blood — that was all that the Duchess of Kich- 
 mond had been able to bring against him. That he, like 
 his father, bore the arms of the Kings of England — that 
 was the only evidence of high treason of which his mother 
 the Duchess of Norfolk could charge him.* 
 
 These accusations were of so trivial a character, that 
 the Parliament well knew they were not the ground of his 
 arrest, but only a pretext for it — only a pretext, by which 
 the king said to his pliant and trembling Parliament: 
 * This man is innocent; but I will that you condemn him, 
 and therefore you will account the accusation sufficient." 
 
 * Tytler, p. 402. Burnet, vol. i, p. 95. 
 
348 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Parliament had not the courage to oppose the king's 
 will. These members of Parliament were nothing more 
 than a flock of sheep, who, in trembling dread of the sharp 
 teeth of the dog, go straight along the path which the dog 
 shows them. 
 
 The king wanted them to condemn the Earl of Surrey, 
 and they condemned him. 
 
 They summoned him before their judgment-seat, and 
 it was in vain that he proved his innocence in a speech 
 spirited and glowing with eloquence. These noble mem- 
 bers of Parliament would not see that he was innocent. 
 
 It is true, indeed, there were a few who were ashamed 
 to bow their heads so unreservedly beneath the king's 
 sceptre, which dripped with blood like a headsman's axe. 
 There were still a few to whom the accusation appeared in- 
 •sufficient; but they were outvoted; and in order to give 
 Parliament a warning example, the king, on the very same 
 day, had these obstinate ones arrested and accused of some 
 pretended crime. For this people, enslaved by the king's 
 ■cruelty and savage barbarity, were already so degenerate 
 and debased in self-consciousness, that men were always 
 and without trouble found, who, in order to please the 
 king and his bloodthirstiness and sanctimonious hypocrisy, 
 degraded themselves to informers, and accused of crime 
 those whom the king's dark frown had indicated to them 
 •as offenders. 
 
 So Parliament had doomed the Earl of Surrey to die, 
 and the king had signed his death-warrant. 
 
 Early next morning he was to be executed; and in the 
 Tower-yard the workmen were already busy in erecting 
 the scaffold on which the noble earl was to be beheaded. 
 
 Henry Howard was alone in his cell. He had done 
 with life and earthly things. He had set his house in 
 order and made his will; he had written to his mother and 
 sister, and forgiven them for their treachery and accusa- 
 tion; he had addressed a letter to his father, in which he 
 exhorted him, in words as noble as they were touching, to 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 349 
 
 steadfastness and calmness, and bade him not to weep for 
 him, for death was his desire, and the grave the only 
 refuge for which he longed. 
 
 He had then, as we have said, done with life; and 
 earthly things no longer disturbed him. He felt no regret 
 and no fear. Life had left him nothing more to wish; 
 and he almost thanked the king that he would so soon de- 
 liver him from the burden of existence. 
 
 The future had nothing more to offer him; why then 
 should he desire it? Why long for a life which could be 
 for him now only an isolated, desolate, and gloomy one? 
 For Geraldine was lost to him! He knew not her fate; 
 and no tidings of her had penetrated to him through the 
 solitary prison walls. Did the queen still live? Or had 
 the king in his wrath murdered her on that very night 
 when Henry was carried to the Tower, and his last look be- 
 held his beloved lying at her husband's feet, swooning and 
 rigid. 
 
 What had become of the queen — of Henry Howard's 
 beloved Geraldine? He knew nothing of her. He had 
 hoped in vain for some note, some message from her; but 
 he had not dared to ask any one as to her fate. Perhaps 
 the king desisted from punishing her likewise. Perhaps 
 his murderous inclination had been satisfied by putting 
 Henry Howard to death; and Catharine escaped the scaf- 
 fold. It might, therefore, have been ruinous to her, had 
 he, the condemned, inquired after her. Or, if she had 
 gone before him, then he was certain of finding her again, 
 and of being united with her forevermore beyond the 
 grave. 
 
 He believed in a hereafter, for he loved; and death did 
 not affright him, for after death came the reunion with 
 her, with Geraldine, who either was already waiting for 
 him there above, or would soon follow him. 
 
 Life had nothing more to offer him. Death united 
 him to his beloved. He hailed death as his friend and 
 savior, as the priest who was to unite him to his Geraldine. 
 
350 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 He heard the great Tower clock of the prison which 
 with threatening stroke made known the hour; and each 
 passing hour he hailed with a joyous throb of the heart. 
 The evening came and deep night descended upon him — 
 the last night that was allotted to him — the last night that 
 separated him from his Geraldine. 
 
 The turnkey opened the door to bring the earl a light f 
 and to ask whether he had any orders to give. Heretofore 
 it had been the king's special command not to allow him a 
 light in his cell; and he had spent these six long evenings 
 and nights of his imprisonment in darkness. But to-day 
 they were willing to give him a light; to-day they were 
 willing to allow him everything that he might still desire. 
 The life which he must leave in a few hours was to be 
 once more adorned for him with all charms and enjoy- 
 ments which he might ask for. Henry Howard had but to 
 wish, and the jailer was ready to furnish him everything. 
 
 But Henry Howard wished for nothing; he demanded 
 nothing, save that they would leave him alone — save that 
 they would remove from his prison this light which daz- 
 zled him, and which opposed to his enrapturing dreams the 
 disenchanting reality. 
 
 The king, who had wanted to impose a special punish- 
 ment in condemning him to darkness — the king had, con- 
 trary to his intention, become thereby his benefactor. For 
 with darkness came dreams and fantasies. With the dark- 
 ness came Geraldine. 
 
 When night and silence were all around him, then there 
 was light within; and an enchanting whisper and a sweet, 
 enticing voice resounded within him. The gates of his 
 prison sprang open, and on the wings of thought Henry 
 Howard soared away from that dismal and desolate place. 
 On the wings of thought he came to her — to his Geraldine. 
 
 Again she was by him, in the large, silent hall. Again 
 night lay upon them, like a veil concealing, blessing, and 
 enveloping them; and threw its protection over their em- 
 braces and their kisses. Solitude allowed him to hear 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. ^51 
 
 again the dear music of her voice, which sang for him so 
 enchanting a melody of love and ecstasy. 
 
 Henry Howard must be alone, so that he can hear his 
 Geraldine. Deep darkness must surround him, so that his 
 Geraldine can come to him. 
 
 He demanded, therefore, for his last night, nothing 
 further than to be left alone, and without a light. The 
 jailer extinguished the light and left the cell. But he did 
 not shove the great iron bolt across the door. He did not 
 put the large padlock on it, but he only left the door 
 slightly ajar, and did not lock it at all. 
 
 Henry Howard took no notice of this. What cared he,, 
 whether this gate was locked or no — he who no longer had 
 a desire for life and freedom! 
 
 He leaned back on his seat, and dreamed with eyes 
 open. There below in the yard they were working on the 
 scaffold which Henry Howard was to ascend as soon as 
 day dawned. The dull monotony of the strokes of the 
 hammers fell on his ear. Now and then the torches, 
 which lighted the workmen at their melancholy task, al- 
 lowed to shine up into his cell a pale glimmer of light,, 
 which danced on the walls in ghost-like shapes. 
 
 " There are the ghosts of all those that Henry has put 
 to death/' thought Henry Howard; "they gather around 
 me; like will-o'-the-wisps, they dance with me the dance 
 of death, and in a few hours I shall be forever theirs." 
 
 The dull noise of hammers and saws continued steadily 
 on, and Henry Howard sank deeper and deeper in reverie. 
 
 He thought, he felt, and desired nothing but Geral- 
 dine. His whole soul was concentrated in that single 
 thought of her. It seemed to him he could bid his spirit 
 see her, as though he could command his senses to perceive 
 her. Yes, she was there; he felt — he was conscious of her 
 presence. Again he lay at her feet, and leaned his head 
 on her knee, and listened again to those charming revela- 
 tions of her love. 
 
 Completely borne away from the present, and from 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 existence, he saw, he felt, only her. The mystery of love 
 was perfected, and, under the veil of night, Geraldine had 
 again winged her way to him, and he to her. 
 
 A happy smile played about his lips, which faltered 
 forth rapturous words of greeting. Overcome by a won- 
 derful hallucination, he saw his beloved approaching him; 
 he stretched out his arms to clasp her; and it did not 
 arouse him when he felt instead of her only the empty air. 
 
 " Why do you float away from me again, Geraldine ? " 
 asked he, in a low tone. " Wherefore do you withdraw 
 from my arms, to whirl with the will-o'-the-wisps in the 
 death-dance? Come, Geraldine, come; my soul burns 
 for you. My heart calls you with its last faltering throb. 
 Come, Geraldine, oh, come!" 
 
 What was that? It was as though the door were gen- 
 tly opened, and the latch again gently fastened. It was as 
 though a foot were moving softly over the floor — as though 
 the shape of a human form shaded for a moment the flick- 
 ering light which danced around the walls. 
 
 Henry Howard saw it not. 
 
 He saw naught but his Geraldine, whom he with so 
 much fervency and longing wished by his side. He spread 
 his arms; he called her with all the ardor, all the enthu- 
 siasm of a lover. 
 
 Now he uttered a cry of ecstasy. His prayer of love 
 was answered. The dream had become a reality. His 
 arms no longer clasped the empty air; they pressed to his 
 breast the woman whom he loved, and for whom he was 
 to die. 
 
 He pressed his lips to her mouth and she returned his 
 kisses. He threw his arms around her form, and she 
 pressed him fast, fast to her bosom. 
 
 Was this a reality? Or was it madness that was creep- 
 ing upon him and seizing upon his brain, and deceiving 
 him with fantasies so enchanting? 
 
 Henry Howard shuddered as he thought this, and, fall- 
 ing upon his knees, he cried in a voice trembling with 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 353 
 
 agony and love: " Geraldine, have pity on me! Tell me 
 that this is no dream, that I am not mad — that you are 
 really — you are Geraldine — you — the king's consort, whose 
 knees I now clasp! Speak, oh speak, my Geraldine! " 
 
 "I am she!" softly whispered she. "I am Geraldine 
 — am the woman whom you love, and to whom you have 
 sworn eternal truth and eternal love ! Henry Howard, my 
 beloved, I now remind you of your oath! Your life be- 
 longs to me. This you have vowed, and I now come to 
 demand of you that which is my own! " 
 
 " Ay, my life belongs to you, Geraldine ! But it is a 
 miserable, melancholy possession, which you will call yours 
 only a few hours longer/' 
 
 She threw her arms closely around his neck; she raised 
 him to her heart; she kissed his mouth, his eyes. He felt 
 her tears, which trickled like hot fountains over his face; 
 he heard her sighs, which struggled from her breast like 
 death-groans. 
 
 "You must not die!" murmured she, amid her tears. 
 " No, Henry, you must live, so that I too can live; so that I 
 shall not become mad from agony and sorrow for you! My 
 God, my God, do you not then feel how I love you? Know 
 you not, then, that your life is my life, and your death my 
 death?" 
 
 He leaned his head on her shoulder, and, wholly intoxi- 
 cated with happiness, he scarcely heard what she was 
 speaking. 
 
 She was again there! What cared he for all the rest? 
 
 " Geraldine," softly whispered he, " do you recollect 
 still how we first met each other? how our hearts were 
 united in one throb, how our lips clung to each other in 
 one kiss? Geraldine, my life, my loved one, we then 
 swore that naught could separate us, that our love should 
 survive the grave! Geraldine, do you remember that 
 still?" 
 
 "I remember it, my Henry! But you shall not die 
 yet; and not in death, but in life, shall your love for me be 
 
554 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 proved! Ay, we will live, live! And your life shall be my 
 life, and where you are, there will I be also! Henry, do 
 you remember that yon vowed this to me with a solemn 
 oath! * 
 
 " I remember it, but I cannot keep my word, my Geral- 
 •dine! Hear you how they are sawing and hammering 
 there below? Know you what that indicates, dearest? " 
 
 "I know it, Henry! It is the scaffold that they are 
 building there below. The scaffold for you and me. For 
 I too will die if you will not live; and the axe that seeks 
 your neck shall find mine also, if you wish not that we both 
 live!" 
 
 " Do I wish it! But how can we, beloved? " 
 
 "We can, Henry, we can! All is ready for the flight! 
 It is all arranged, everything prepared! The king's 
 signet-ring has opened to me the gates of the prison; the 
 omnipotence of gold has won over your jailer. He will 
 not see it, when two persons instead of one leave this 
 dungeon. Unmolested and without hinderance, we will 
 both leave the Tower by ways known only to him, over 
 secret corridors and staircases, and will go aboard a boat 
 which is ready to take us to a ship, which lies in the 
 larbor prepared to sail, and which as soon as we are 
 aboard weighs anchor and puts to sea with us. Come, 
 Henry, come! Lay your arm in mine, and let us leave this 
 prison! " 
 
 She threw both her arms around his neck, and drew 
 him forward. He pressed her fast to his heart and whis- 
 pered: "Yes, come, come, my beloved! Let us fly! To 
 you belongs my life, you alone! " 
 
 He raised her up in his arms, and hastened with her to 
 the door. He pushed it hastily open with his foot and 
 hurried forward down the corridor; but having arrived 
 just at the first turn he reeled back in horror. 
 
 Before the door were standing soldiers with shouldered 
 arms. There stood also the lieutenant of the Tower, and 
 two servants behind him with lighted candles. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 355 
 
 Geraldine gave a scream, and with anxious haste re- 
 arranged the thick veil that had slipped from her head. 
 
 Henry Howard also had uttered a cry, but not on ac- 
 count of the soldiers and the frustrated flight. 
 
 His eyes, stretched wide open, stared at this figure at 
 his side, now so closely veiled. 
 
 It seemed to him as though like a spectre a strange 
 face had risen up close by him — as though it were not the 
 beloved head of the queen that rested there on his shoul- 
 der. He had seen this face only as a vision, as the fantasy 
 of a dream; but he knew with perfect certainty that it was 
 not her countenance, not the countenance of his Geraldine. 
 
 The lieutenant of the Tower motioned to his servants, 
 and they carried the lighted candles into the earl's cell. 
 
 Then he gave Henry Howard his hand and silently led 
 him back into the prison. 
 
 Henry Howard exhibited no reluctance to follow him; 
 but his hand had seized Geraldine's arm, and he drew her 
 along with him; his eye rested on her with a penetrating 
 expression, and seemed to threaten her. 
 
 They were now again in the room which they had be- 
 fore left with such blessed hopes. 
 
 The lieutenant of the Tower motioned to the servants 
 to retire, then turned with solemn earnestness to Earl 
 Surrey. 
 
 " My lord," said he, " it is at the king's command that 
 I bring you these lights. His majesty knows all that has 
 happened here this night. He knew that a plot was 
 formed to rescue you; and while they believed they were 
 deceiving him, the plotters themselves were deceived. 
 They had succeeded under various artful false pretences in 
 influencing the king to give his signet-ring to one of his 
 lords. But his majesty was already warned, and he al- 
 ready knew that it was not a man, as they wanted to make 
 him believe, but a woman, who came, not to take leave of . 
 you, but to deliver you from prison. — My lady, the jailer 
 whom you imagined that you had bribed was a faithful 
 
356 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 servant of the king. He betrayed your plot to me; and it 
 was I who ordered him to make a show of favoring your 
 deed. Yon will not be able to release Earl Surrey; but if 
 such is your command, I will myself see you to the ship 
 that lies in the harbor for you ready to sail. No one will 
 hinder you, my lady, from embarking on it; Earl Surrey is 
 not permitted to accompany you! — My lord, soon the night 
 is at an end, and you know that it will be your last night. 
 The king has ordered that I am not to prevent this lady, if 
 she wishes to spend this night with you in your room. 
 But she is allowed to do so only on the condition that the 
 lights in your room remain burning. That is the king's, 
 express will, and these are his own words: i Tell Earl Sur- 
 rey that I allow him to love his Geraldine, but that he is 
 to open his eyes to see her! That he may see, you will 
 give him a light; and I command him not to extinguish it 
 so long as Geraldine is with him. Otherwise he may con- 
 found her with another woman; for in the dark one cannot 
 distinguish even a harlequin from a queen! ' — You have 
 now to decide, my lord, whether this lady remains with 
 you, or whether she goes, and the light shall be put out! " 
 
 " She shall remain with me, and I very much need the 
 light!" said Earl Surrey; and his penetrating look rested 
 steadily on the veiled figure, which shook at his words, as 
 if in an ague. 
 
 " Have you any other wish besides this, my lord? " 
 
 " None, save that I may be left alone with her." 
 
 The lieutenant bowed and left the room. 
 
 They were now alone again, and stood confronting each 
 other in silence. Naught was heard but the beating of 
 their hearts, and the sighs of anguish that burst from Ger- 
 aldine's trembling lips. 
 
 It was an awful, a terrible pause. Geraldine would 
 gladly have given her life could she thereby have extin- 
 guished the light and veiled herself in impenetrable dark- 
 ness. 
 
 But the earl would see. With an angry, haughty look, 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 357 
 
 he stepped up to her, and, as with commanding gesture he 
 raised his arm, Geraldine shuddered and submissively 
 bowed her head. 
 
 " Unveil your face! " said he, in a tone of command. 
 
 She did not stir. She murmured a prayer, then raised 
 her clasped hands to Henry and in a low moan, said: 
 " Mercy ! mercy ! " 
 
 He extended his hand and seized the veil. 
 
 "Mercy! " repeated she, in a voice of still deeper sup- 
 plication — of still greater distress. 
 
 But he was inexorable. He tore the veil from her face 
 and stared at her. Then with a wild shriek he reeled 
 back and covered his face with his hands. 
 
 Jane Douglas durst not breathe or stir. She was . pale 
 as marble; her large, burning eyes were fastened with an 
 unutterable expression of entreaty upon her lover, who 
 stood before her with covered head, and crushed with 
 anguish. She loved him more than her life, more than 
 her eternal salvation; and yet she it was that had brought 
 him to this hour of agony. 
 
 At length Earl Surrey let his hands fall from his face, 
 and with a fierce movement dashed the tears from his eyes. 
 
 As he looked at her, Jane Douglas wholly involuntarily 
 sank upon her knees, and raised her hands imploringly to 
 him. " Henry Howard," said she, in a low whisper, " I 
 am Geraldine! Me have you loved; my letters have you 
 read with ecstasy, and to me have you often sworn that 
 you loved my mind yet more than my appearance. And 
 often has my heart been filled with rapture, when you told 
 me you would love me however my face might change, how- 
 ever old age or sickness might alter my features. You 
 remember, Henry, how I once asked you whether you 
 would cease to love me, if now God suddenly put a mask 
 before my face, so that you could not recognize my fea- 
 tures. You replied to me: * Nevertheless, I should love 
 and adore you; for what in you ravishes me, is not your 
 face, but you yourself — yourself with your glorious being 
 
358 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 and nature. It is your soul and your heart which can 
 never change, which lie before me like a holy book, clear 
 and bright! ' That was your reply to me. then, as you 
 swore to love me eternally. Henry Howard, I now remind 
 you of your oath! I am your Geraldine. It is the same 
 soul, the same heart; only God has put a mask upon my 
 face!" 
 
 Earl Surrey had listened to her with eager attention, 
 with increasing amazement. 
 
 " It is she! It is really! " cried he, as she ceased. " It 
 is Geraldine!" 
 
 And wholly overcome, wholly speechless with anguish, 
 he sank into a seat. 
 
 Geraldine flew to him; she crouched at his feet; she 
 seized his drooping hand and covered it with kisses. And 
 amid streaming tears, often interrupted by her sighs and 
 her sobs, she recounted to him the sad and unhappy his- 
 tory of her love; she unveiled before him the whole web 
 of cunning and deceit, that her father had drawn around 
 them both. She laid her whole heart open and unveiled 
 before him. She told him of her love, of her agonies, of 
 her ambition, and her remorse. She accused herself; but 
 she pleaded her love as an excuse, and with streaming 
 tears, clinging to his knees, she implored him for pity, for 
 forgiveness. 
 
 He thrust her violently from him, and stood up in 
 order to escape her touch. His noble countenance glowed 
 with anger; his eyes darted lightning; his long flowing 
 hair shaded his lofty brow and his face like a sombre veil. 
 He was beautiful in his wrath, beautiful as the archangel 
 Michael trampling the dragon beneath his feet. And 
 thus he bent down his head toward her; thus he gazed at 
 her with flashing and contemptuous looks. 
 
 " I forgive you? " said he. " Never will that be! Ha, 
 shall I forgive you? — you, who have made my entire life a 
 ridiculous lie, and transformed the tragedy of my love into 
 a disgusting farce? Oh, Geraldine, how I have loved you; 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 359 
 
 and now you have become to me a loathsome spectre, 
 before which my soul shudders, and which I must execrate! 
 You have crushed my life, and even robbed my death of its 
 sanctity; for now it is no longer the martyrdom of my love, 
 but only the savage mockery of my credulous heart. Oh, 
 Geraldine, how beautiful it would have been to die for 
 you! — to go to death with your name upon my lips! — to 
 bless you! — to thank you for my happy lot, as the axe was 
 already uplifted to smite off my head! How beautiful to 
 think that death does not separate us, but is only the way 
 ix) an eternal union; that we should lose each other but a 
 brief moment here, to find each other again f orevermore ! " 
 
 Geraldine writhed at his feet like a worm trodden 
 upon; and her groans of distress and her smothered moans 
 were the heartrending accompaniment of his melancholy 
 words. 
 
 " But that is now all over! " cried Henry Howard; and 
 his face, which was before convulsed with grief and agony, 
 now glowed again with wrath. "You have poisoned my 
 life and my death; and I shall curse you for it, and my 
 last word will be a malediction on the harlequin Geral- 
 dine!" 
 
 "Have pity!" groaned Jane. "Kill me, Henry; 
 stamp my head beneath your feet; only let this torture 
 end! " 
 
 "Nay, no pity!" yelled he, wildly; "no pity for this 
 impostor, who has stolen my heart and crept like a thief 
 into my love! Arise, and leave this room; for you fill me 
 with horror; and when I behold you, I feel only that I 
 must curse you! Ay, a curse on you and shame, Geraldine! 
 Curse on the kisses that I have impressed on your lips — on 
 the tears of rapture that I have wept on your bosom. 
 When I ascend the scaffold, I will curse you, and my last 
 words shall be: 'Woe to Geraldine! — for she is my mur- 
 deress! ' " 
 
 He stood there before her with arm raised on high, 
 proud and great in his wrath. She felt the destroying 
 
360 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 lightning of his eyes, though she durst not look up at 
 him, but lay at his feet moaning and convulsed, and con- 
 cealing her face in her veil, as she shuddered at her own 
 picture. 
 
 " And this be my last word to you Geraldine," said 
 Henry Howard, panting for breath: " Go hence under the 
 burden of my curse, and live — if you can! " 
 
 She unveiled her head, and raised her countenance 
 toward him. A contemptuous smile writhed about her 
 deathly pale lips. "Live!" said she. "Have we not 
 sworn to die with each other? Your curse does not release- 
 me from my oath, and when you descend into the grave,, 
 Jane Douglas will stand upon its brink, to wail and weep 
 until you make a little place for her there below; until 
 she has softened your heart and- you take her again, as 
 your Geraldine, into your grave. Oh, Henry! in the 
 grave, I no longer wear the face of Jane Douglas — that 
 hated face, which I would tear with my nails. In the 
 grave, I am Geraldine again. There I may again lie close 
 to your heart, and again you will say to me : ( I love not 
 your face and your external form! I love you yourself; I 
 love your heart and mind; and that can never change; and 
 can never be otherwise ! ' " 
 
 " Silence ! " , said he, roughly; " silence, if you do not. 
 want me to run mad! Cast not my own words in my face. 
 They defile me, for falsehood has desecrated and trodden 
 them in the mire. No! I will not make room for you in 
 my grave. I will not again call you Geraldine. You are 
 Jane Douglas, and I hate you, and I hurl my curse upon 
 your criminal head! I tell you " 
 
 He suddenly paused, and a slight convulsion ran 
 through his whole frame. 
 
 Jane Douglas uttered a piercing scream, and sprang 
 from her knees. 
 
 Day had broken; and from the prison-tower sounded 
 the dismal, plaintive stroke of the death-bell. 
 
 "Do you hear, Jane Douglas?" said Surrey. "That 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 3£1 
 
 bell summons me to death. You it is that has poisoned my 
 last hour. I was happy when I loved you. I die in de- 
 spair, for I despise and hate you." 
 
 " No, no, you dare not die! " cried she, clinging to him 
 with passionate anguish. " You dare not go to the grave 
 with that fierce curse upon your lips. I cannot be your 
 murderess. Oh, it is not possible that they will put you 
 to death — you, the beautiful, the noble and the virtuous 
 Earl Surrey. My God, what have you done to excite their 
 wrath? You are innocent; and they know it. They can- 
 not execute you; for it would be murder! You have com- 
 mitted no offence; you have been guilty of nothing; no 
 crime attaches to your noble person. It is indeed no 
 crime to love Jane Douglas, and me have you loved— me 
 alone." 
 
 " No, not you," said he proudly; " I have nothing to 
 do with Lady Jane Douglas. I loved the queen, and I be- 
 lieved she returned my love. That is my crime." 
 
 The door opened: and in solemn silence the lieutenant 
 of the Tower entered with the priests and his assistants. 
 In the door was seen the bright-red dress of the headsman, 
 who was standing upon the threshold with face calm and 
 unmoved. 
 
 " It is time ! " solemnly said the lieutenant. 
 
 The priest muttered his prayers, and the assistants 
 swung their censers. Without, the death-bell kept up its 
 wail; and from the court was heard the hum of the 
 mob, which, curious and bloodthirsty as it ever is, had 
 streamed hither to behold with laughing mouth the blood 
 of the man who but yesterday was its favorite. 
 
 Earl Surrey stood there a moment in silence. His 
 features worked and were convulsed, and a deathlike pal- 
 lor covered his cheeks. 
 
 He trembled, not at death, but at dying. It seemed to 
 
 him that he already felt on his neck the cold broad-axe 
 
 which that frightful man there held in his hand. Oh, to 
 
 die on the battle-field — what a boon it would have been! 
 
 24 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 To come to an end on the scaffold — what a disgrace was 
 this! 
 
 "Henry Howard, my son, are yon prepared to die?" 
 asked the priest. " Have you made your peace with God? 
 Do you repent of your sins, and do you acknowledge death 
 as a righteous expiation and punishment? Do you for- 
 give your enemies, and depart hence at peace with yourself 
 and with mankind? " 
 
 "I am prepared to die," said Surrey, with a proud 
 smile; "the other questions, my father, I will answer to 
 my God." 
 
 " Do you confess that you were a wicked traitor? And . 
 do you beg the forgiveness of your noble and righteous,, 
 your exalted and good king, for the blasphemous injury 
 to his sacred majesty? " 
 
 Earl Surrey looked him steadily in the eye. " Do you 
 know what crime I am accused of? " 
 
 The priest cast down his eyes, and muttered a few un- 
 intelligible words. 
 
 With a haughty movement of the head, Henry Howard 
 turned from the priest to the lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 " Do you know my crime, my lord? " said he. 
 
 But the lord lieutenant also dropped his eyes, and 
 remained silent. 
 
 Henry Howard smiled. " Well, now, I will tell you. I 
 have, as it becomes me, my father's son, borne the arms of 
 our house on my shield" and over the entrance of my palace, 
 and it has been discovered that the king bears the same 
 arms that we do. That is my high treason! I have said that 
 the king is deceived in many of his servants, and often 
 promotes his favorites to high honors which they do not 
 deserve. That is my offence against his majesty; and it is 
 that for which I shall lay my head upon the block.* But 
 
 * These two insignificant accusations were the only points that 
 could be made out against the Earl of Surrey. Upon these charges, 
 brought by his mother and sister, he was executed. — Tytler, p. 492; 
 Burnet, vol. i, p. 75; Leti, vol. i, p. 108. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 3(53 
 
 make yourself easy; I shall myself add to my crimes one 
 more, so that they may be grievous enough to make the 
 conscience of the righteous and generous king quiet. I 
 have given up my heart to a wretched and criminal love, 
 and the Geraldine whom I have sung in many a poem, and 
 have celebrated even before the king, was nothing but a 
 miserable coquettish strumpet! " 
 
 Jane Douglas gave a scream, and sank upon the ground 
 as if struck by lightning. 
 
 "Do you repent of this sin, my son?" asked the 
 priest. "Do you turn your heart away from this sinful 
 love, in order to turn it to God? " 
 
 " I not only repent of this love, but I execrate it! and 
 now, my father, let us go; for you see, indeed, my lord 
 is becoming impatient. He bears in mind that the king 
 will find no rest until the Howards also have gone to rest. 
 Ah, King Henry! King Henry! Thou callest thyself the- 
 mighty king of the world, and yet thou tremblest before 
 the arms of thy subject! My lord, if you go to the king 
 to-day, give him Henry Howard's greeting; and tell him, I 
 wish his bed may be as easy to him as the grave will be ta 
 me. Now, come, my lords! It is time." 
 
 With head proudly erect and calm step, he turned to 
 the door. But now Jane Douglas sprang from the ground; 
 now she rushed to Henry Howard and clung to him with 
 all the might of her passion and agony. u I leave you 
 not! " cried she, breathless and pale as death. " You dare 
 not repulse me, for you have sworn that we shall live and 
 die together." 
 
 He hurled her from him in fierce wrath, and drew him- 
 self up before her, lofty and threatening. 
 
 "I forbid you to follow me!" cried he, in a tone of 
 command. She reeled back against the wall and looked 
 at him, trembling and breathless. 
 
 He was still lord over her soul; she was still subject ta 
 him in love and obedience. She could not therefore sum- 
 mon up courage to defy his command. 
 
364 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 She beheld him as he left the room and passed down 
 the corridor with his dreadful train; she heard their foot- 
 steps gradually die away; and then suddenly in the yard 
 sounded the hollow roll of the drum. 
 
 Jane Douglas fell on her knees to pray, but her lips 
 trembled so much that she could find no words for her 
 prayer. 
 
 The roll of the drum ceased in the court below, and 
 only the death-bell still continued to wail and wail. She 
 heard a voice speaking loud and powerful words. 
 
 It was his voice; it was Henry Howard that was speak- 
 ing. And now again the hollow roll of the drums drowned 
 his voice. 
 
 "He dies! He dies, and I am not with him!" cried 
 she, with a shriek; and she gathered herself up, and as if 
 borne by a whirlwind she dashed out of the room, through 
 the corridor, and down the stairs. 
 
 There she stood in the court. That dreadful black 
 pile above there, in the midst of this square crowded with 
 men — that was the scaffold. Yonder she beheld him 
 prostrate on his knees. She beheld the axe in the heads- 
 man's hand; she saw him raise it for the fatal stroke. 
 
 She was a woman no longer, but a lioness! Not a drop 
 of blood was in her cheeks. Her nostrils were expanded 
 and her eyes darted lightning. 
 
 She drew out a dagger that she had concealed in her 
 bosom, and made a path through the amazed, frightened, 
 yielding crowd. 
 
 With one spring she had rushed up the steps of the 
 scaffold. She now stood by him on the top of it — close by 
 that kneeling figure. 
 
 There was a flash through the air. She heard a pecul- 
 iar whiz — then a hollow blow. A red vapor-like streak 
 of blood spurted up, and covered Jane Douglas with its 
 •crimson flood. 
 
 "I come, Henry, I come!" cried she, with a wild 
 shout. " I shall be with thee in death! " 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 365 
 
 And again there was a flash through the air. It was 
 the dagger that Jane Douglas plunged into her heart. 
 
 She had struck well. No sound — no groan burst from 
 her lips. With a proud smile she sank by her lover's head- 
 less corpse, and with a last dying effort she said to the 
 horrified headsman: "Let me share his grave! Henry 
 Howard, in life and in death I am with thee! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 NEW INTRIGUES. 
 
 Henry Howard was dead; and now one would have 
 thought the king might be satisfied and quiet, and that 
 sleep would no longer flee from his eyelids, since Henry 
 Howard, his great rival, had closed his eyes forever; since 
 Henry Howard was no longer there, to steal away his 
 crown, to fill the world with the glory of his deeds, to dim 
 the genius of the king by his own fame as a poet. 
 
 But the king was still dissatisfied. Sleep *still fled 
 from his couch. 
 
 The cause of this was that his work was only just half 
 done. Henry Howard's father, the Duke of Norfolk, still 
 lived. The cause of this was, that the king was always 
 obliged to think of this powerful rival; and these thoughts 
 chased sleep from his eyelids. His soul was sick of the 
 Howards; therefore his body suffered such terrible pains. 
 
 If the Duke of Norfolk would close his eyes in death, 
 then would the king also be able to close his again in 
 refreshing sleep! But this court of peers — and only by 
 such a court could the duke be judged — this court of peers 
 was so slow and deliberate! It worked far less rapidly, 
 and was not near so serviceable, as the Parliament which 
 had so quickly condemned Henry Howard. Why must the 
 
366 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 old Howard bear a ducal title? Why was he not like his 
 son, only an earl, so that the obedient Parliament might 
 condemn him? 
 
 That was the king's inextinguishable grief, his gnaw- 
 ing pain, which made him raving with fury and heated his 
 blood, and thereby increased the pains of his body. 
 
 He raved and roared with impatience. Through the 
 halls of his palace resounded his savage vituperation. It 
 made every one tremble and quake, for no one was sure 
 that it was not he that was to fall that day a victim to the 
 king's fury. No one could know whether the king's ever- 
 increasing thirst for blood would not that day doom him. 
 
 With the most jealous strictness the king, from his- 
 sick-couch, watched over his royal dignity; and the least 
 fault against that might arouse his wrath and bloodthirsti- 
 ness. Woe to those who wanted still to maintain that the 
 pope was the head of the Church! Woe to those who ven- 
 tured to call God the only Lord of the Church, and hon- 
 ored not the king as the Church's holy protector! The 
 one, like the other, were traitors and sinners, and he had 
 Protestants and Koman Catholics alike executed, however 
 near they stood to his own person, and however closely he 
 was otherwise bound to them. 
 
 Whoever, therefore, could avoid it, kept himself far 
 from the dreaded person of the king; and whoever was 
 constrained by duty to be near him, trembled for his life, 
 and commended his soul to God. 
 
 There were only four persons who did not fear the 
 king, and who seemed to be safe from his destroying wrath. 
 There was the queen, who nursed him with devoted atten- 
 tion, and John Heywood, who with untiring zeal sus- 
 tained Catharine in her difficult task, and who still some- 
 times succeeded in winning a smile from the king. There 
 were, furthermore, Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, and 
 Earl Douglas. 
 
 Lady Jane Douglas was dead. The king had therefore 
 forgiven her father, and again shown himself gracious and 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 357 
 
 friendly to the deeply-bowed earl. Besides, it was such an 
 agreeable and refreshing feeling to the suffering king to 
 have some one about him who suffered yet more than he 
 himself! It comforted him to know that there could be 
 agonies yet more horrible than those pains of the body 
 under which he languished. Earl Douglas suffered these 
 agonies; and the king saw with a kind of delight how his 
 hair turned daily more gray, and his features became more 
 relaxed and feeble. Douglas was younger than the king, 
 and yet how old and gray his face was beside the king's 
 well-fed and blooming countenance! 
 
 Could the king have seen the bottom of his soul, he 
 would have had less sympathy with Earl Douglas's sorrow. 
 
 He considered him only as a tender father mourning 
 the death of his only child. He did not suspect that it was 
 less the father that Jane's painful death had smitten, than 
 the ambitious man, the fanatical Eoman Catholic, the en- 
 thusiastic disciple of Loyola, who with dismay saw all his 
 plans frustrated, and the moment drawing nigh when he 
 would be divested of that power and consideration which 
 he enjoyed in the secret league of the disciples of Jesus. 
 
 With him, therefore, it was less the daughter, for whom 
 he mourned, than the Icing's seventh wife. And that Catha- 
 rine wore the crown, and not his daughter — not Jane 
 Douglas — this it was that he could never forgive the 
 queen. 
 
 He wanted to take vengeance on the queen for Jane's 
 death; he wanted to punish Catharine for his frustrated 
 hopes, for his desires that she had trampled upon. 
 
 But Earl Douglas durst not himself venture to make 
 another attempt to prejudice the king's mind against his 
 consort. Henry had interdicted him from it under the 
 penalty of his wrath. With words of threatening, he had 
 warned him from such an attempt; and Earl Douglas very 
 well knew that King Henry was inflexible in his deter- 
 mination, when the matter under consideration was the 
 execution of a threatened punishment. 
 
368 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Yet what Douglas durst not venture, that Gardiner 
 could venture — Gardiner, who, thanks to the capricious- 
 ness of the sick king, had for the few days past enjoyed 
 again the royal favor so unreservedly that the noble Arch- 
 bishop Cranmer had received orders to leave the court and 
 retire to his episcopal residence at Lambeth. 
 
 Catharine had seen him depart with anxious forebod- 
 ings; for Cranmer had ever been her friend and her sup- 
 port. His mild and serene countenance had ever been to 
 her like a star of peace in the midst of this tempest-tossed 
 and passion-lashed court life; and his gentle and noble 
 words had always fallen like a soothing balm on her poor 
 trembling heart. 
 
 She felt that with his departure she lost her noblest 
 support, her strengthening aid, and that she was now sur- 
 rounded only by enemies and opponents. True, she still 
 had John Heywood, the faithful friend, the indefatigable 
 servant; but since Gardiner had exercised his sinister in- 
 fluence over the king's mind, John Heywood durst scarcely 
 risk himself in Henry's presence. True, she had also 
 Thomas Seymour, her lover; but she knew and felt 
 that she was everywhere surrounded by spies and eaves- 
 droppers, and that now it required nothing more than 
 an interview with Thomas Seymour — a few tender words 
 — perchance even only a look full of mutual under- 
 standing and love, in order to send him and her to the 
 scaffold. 
 
 She trembled not for herself, but for her lover. That 
 made her cautious and thoughtful. That gave her cour- 
 age never to show Thomas Seymour other than a cold, 
 serious face; never to meet him otherwise than in the 
 circle of her court; never to smile on him; never to give 
 him her hand. 
 
 She was, however, certain of her future. She knew 
 that a day would come on which the king's death would 
 deliver her from her burdensome grandeur and her painful 
 royal crown; when she should be free — free to give her 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 3^9 
 
 hand to the man whom alone on earth she loved, and to 
 become his wife. 
 
 She waited for that day, as the prisoner does for the 
 hour of his release; but like him she knew that a pre- 
 mature attempt to escape from her dungeon would bring 
 her only ruin and death, and not freedom. 
 
 She must be patient and wait. She must give up all 
 personal intercourse with her lover; and even his letters 
 John Heywood could bring her but very seldom, and only 
 with the greatest caution. How often already had not 
 John Heywood conjured her to give up this correspond- 
 ence also! how often had he not with tears in his eyes be- 
 sought her to renounce this love, which might one day be 
 her ruin and her death! Catharine laughed at his gloomy 
 forebodings, and opposed to his dark prophecies a bravery 
 reliant on the future, the joyous courage of her love. 
 
 She would not die, for happiness and love were await- 
 ing her; she would not renounce happiness and love, for 
 the sake of which she could endure this life in other re- 
 spects — this life of peril, of resignation, of enmity, and of 
 hatred. 
 
 But she wanted to live in order to be happy hereafter. 
 This thought made her brave and resolute; it gave her 
 courage to defy her enemies with serene brow and smiling 
 lip; it enabled her to sit with bright eye and rosy cheeks 
 at the side of her dreaded and severe husband, and, with 
 cheerful wit and inexhaustible good-humor, jest away the 
 frown from his brow, and vexation from his soul. 
 
 But just because she could do this, she was a dangerous 
 antagonist to Douglas and Gardiner. Just on that ac- 
 count, it was to be their highest effort to destroy this beau- 
 tiful young woman, who durst defy them and weaken their 
 influence with the king. If they could but succeed in ren- 
 dering the king's mind more and more gloomy; if they 
 could but completely fill him again with fanatical religions 
 zeal; then, and then only, could they hope to attain their 
 end; which end was this: to bring back the king as a con- 
 
370 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 trite, penitent, and humble son of the only saving mother 
 Church, and to make him again, from a proud, vain, and 
 imperious prince, an obedient and submissive son of the 
 pope. 
 
 The king was to renounce this vain and blasphemous 
 arrogance of wishing to be himself head of his Church. 
 He was to turn away from the spirit of novelty and heresy, 
 and again become a faithful and devout Catholic. 
 
 But in order that they might attain this end, Catha- 
 rine must be removed from him; he must no longer behold 
 her rosy and beautiful face, and no longer allow himself to 
 be diverted by her sensible discourse and her keen wit. 
 
 "We shall not be able to overthrow the queen," said 
 Earl Douglas to Gardiner, as the two stood in the king's 
 anteroom, and as Catharine's cheerful chit-chat and the 
 king's merry laugh came pealing to them from the adjoin- 
 ing room. " No, no, Gardiner, she is too powerful and too 
 crafty. The king loves her very much; and she is such an 
 agreeable and refreshing recreation to him." 
 
 "Just on that account we must withdraw her from 
 him," said Gardiner, with a dark frown. " He must turn 
 away his heart from this earthly love; and after we shall 
 have mortified this love in him, this savage and arrogant 
 man will return to us and to God, contrite and humble." 
 
 But we shall not be able to mortify it, friend. It is so 
 ardent and selfish a love." 
 
 So much the greater will be the triumph, if our holy 
 admonitions are successful in touching his heart, Douglas. 
 It is true he will suffer very much if he is obliged to give 
 up this woman. But he needs precisely this suffering in 
 order to become contrite and penitent. His mind must 
 first be entirely darkened, so that we can illuminate it with 
 the light of faith. He must first be rendered perfectly 
 isolated and comfortless in order to bring him back to the 
 holy communion of the Church, and to find him again 
 accessible to the consolations of that faith which alone 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 37J 
 
 " Ah," sighed Douglas, " I fear that this will be a use- 
 less struggle. The king is so vain of his self -constituted 
 high-priesthood! " 
 
 " But he is such a weak man, and such a great sin- 
 ner! " said Gardiner, with a # cold smile. " He trembles so 
 much at death and God's judgment, and our holy mother 
 the Church can give him absolution, and by her holy sacra- 
 ments render death easy to him. He is a wicked sinner 
 and has stings of conscience. This it is that will bring 
 him back again to the bosom of the Catholic Church." 
 
 " But when will that come to pass? The king is sick, 
 and any day may put an end to his life. Woe to us, if he 
 die before he has given the power into our hands, and 
 nominated us his executors! Woe to us, if the queen is 
 appointed regent, and the king selects the Seymours as her 
 ministers! Oh, my wise and pious father, the work that 
 you wish to do must be done soon, or it must remain for- 
 ever unaccomplished." 
 
 "It shall be done this very day," said Gardiner, sol- 
 emnly; and bending down closer to the earPs ear, he con- 
 tinued: " we have lulled the queen into assurance and self- 
 confidence, and by this means she shall be ruined this very 
 day. She relies so strongly on her power over the king's 
 disposition, that she often summons up courage even to 
 contradict him, and to set her own will in opposition to 
 his. That shall be her ruin this very day! For mark 
 well, earl; the king is now again like a tiger that has been 
 long fasting. He thirsts for blood! The queen has an 
 aversion to human blood, and she is horrified when she 
 hears of executions. So we must manage that these op- 
 posing inclinations may come into contact, and contend 
 with each other." 
 
 " Oh, I understand now," whispered Douglas; " and I 
 bow in reverence before the wisdom of your highness. 
 You will let them both contend with their own weapons." 
 
 "I will point out a welcome prey to his appetite for 
 blood, and give her silly compassion an opportunity to con- 
 
372 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 tend with the king for his prey. Do you not think, earl, 
 that this will be an amusing spectacle, and one refreshing 
 to the heart, to see how the tiger and dove struggle with 
 each other? And I tell you the tiger thirsts so much for 
 blood! Blood is the only balm that he applies to his ach- 
 ing limbs, and by which alone he imagines that he can 
 restore peace and courage to his tortured conscience and 
 his dread of death. Ah, ha! we have told him that, with 
 each new execution of a heretic, one of his great sins would 
 be blotted out, and that the blood of the Calvinists serves 
 to wash out of his account-book some of his evil deeds. 
 He would be so glad to be able to appear pure and guilt- 
 less before the tribunal of his God! Therefore he needs 
 very much heretical blood. But hark — the hour strikes 
 which summons me to the royal chamber! There has been 
 enough of the queen's laughing and chit-chat. We will 
 now endeavor to banish the smile forever from her face. 
 She is a heretic; and it is a pious work, well pleasing to 
 God, if we plunge her headlong into ruin! * 
 
 "May God be with your highness, and assist you by 
 His grace, that you may accomplish this sublime work! " 
 
 " God will be with us, my son, since for Him it is that 
 we labor and harass ourselves. To His honor and praise 
 we bring these misbelieving heretics to the stake, and make 
 the air re-echo with the agonizing shrieks of those who are 
 racked and tortured. That is music well pleasing to God; 
 and the angels in heaven will triumph and be glad when 
 the heretical and infidel Queen Catharine also has to strike 
 up this music of the damned. Now I go to the holy labor 
 of love and godly wrath. Pray for me, my son, that I may 
 succeed. Remain here in the anteroom, and await my 
 call; perhaps we shall need you. Pray for us, and with us. 
 Ah, we still owe this heretical queen a grudge for Anne 
 Askew. To-day we will pay her. Then she accused us, 
 to-day we will accuse her, and God and His host of saints 
 and angels are with us." 
 
 And the pious and godly priest crossed himself, and 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 373 
 
 ^rith. head humbly bowed and a soft smile about his thin, 
 bloodless lips, strode through the hall in order to betake 
 himself to the king's chamber. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIY. 
 
 THE KING AND THE PBIEST. 
 
 " God bless and preserve your majesty! " said Gardiner 
 as he entered, to the king, who just then was sitting with 
 the queen at the chess-board. With frowning brow and 
 compressed lips he looked over the game, which stood 
 unfavorable for him, and threatened him with a speedy 
 checkmate. 
 
 It was not wise in the queen not to let the king win; 
 for his superstitious and jealous temper looked upon such a 
 won game of chess as withal an assault on his own person. 
 And he who ventured to conquer him at chess was always 
 to Henry a sort of traitor that threatened his kingdom,, 
 and was rash enough to attempt to seize the crown. 
 
 The queen very well knew that, but — Gardiner was- 
 right — she was too self-confident. She trusted a little 
 to her power over the king; she imagined he would make 
 an exception in her favor. And it was so dull to be obliged 
 ever to be the losing and conquered party at this game; to 
 permit the king always to appear as the triumphant victor, 
 and to bestow on his game praise which he did not deserve. 
 Catharine wanted to allow herself for once the triumph of 
 having beaten her husband. She fought him man to man; 
 she irritated him by the ever-approaching danger. 
 
 The king, who at the beginning had been cheerful, and 
 laughed when Catharine took up one of his pieces — the 
 king now no longer laughed. It was no more a game. It 
 was a serious struggle; and he contended with his consort 
 for the victory with impassioned eagerness. 
 
374 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 Catharine did not even see the clouds which were gath- 
 ering on the king's brow. Her looks were directed only to 
 the chess-board; and, breathless with expectation and 
 glowing with eagerness, she considered the move she was 
 about to make. 
 
 But Gardiner was very well aware of the king's secret 
 anger; and he comprehended that the situation was favor- 
 able for him. 
 
 With soft, sneaking step he approached the king, and, 
 standing behind him, looked over the game. 
 
 " You are checkmated in four moves, my husband! " 
 said the queen with a cheerful laugh, as she made her 
 move. 
 
 A still darker frown gathered on the king's brow, and 
 his lips were violently compressed. 
 
 " It is true, your majesty," said Gardiner. " You will 
 soon have to succumb. Danger threatens you from the 
 queen." 
 
 Henry gave a start, and turned his face to Gardiner 
 with an expression of inquiry. In his exasperated mood 
 against the queen, the crafty priest's ambiguous remark 
 struck him with double keenness. 
 
 Gardiner was a very skilful hunter; the very first arrow 
 that he shot had hit. But Catharine, too, had heard it 
 whiz. Gardiner's slow, ambiguous words had startled her 
 from her artless security; and as she now looked into the 
 king's glowing, excited face, she comprehended her want 
 of prudence. 
 
 But it was too late to remedy it. The king's check- 
 mate was unavoidable; and Henry himself had already 
 noticed his defeat. 
 
 "It is all right!" said the king, impetuously. "You 
 have won, Catharine, and, by the holy mother of God! you 
 can boast of the rare good fortune of having vanquished 
 Henry of England! " 
 
 " I will not boast of it, my noble husband! " said she, 
 with a smile. " You have played with me as the lion does 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 375 
 
 with the puppy, which he does not crush only because he 
 has compassion on him, and he pities the poor little crea- 
 ture. Lion, I thank you. You have been magnanimous 
 to-day. You have let me win." 
 
 The king's face brightened a little. Gardiner saw it. 
 He must prevent Catharine from following up her advan- 
 tage further. 
 
 "Magnanimity is an exalted, but a very dangerous 
 virtue," said he, gravely; " and kings above all things 
 dare not exercise it; for magnanimity pardons crimes com- 
 mitted, and kings are not here to pardon, but to punish." 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed," said Catharine; " to be able to be 
 magnanimous is the noblest prerogative of kings; and 
 since they are God's representatives on earth, they too 
 must exercise pity and mercy, like God himself." 
 
 The king's brow again grew dark, and his sullen looks 
 stared at the chess-board. 
 
 Gardiner shrugged his shoulders, and made no reply. 
 He drew a roll of papers out of his gown and handed it to 
 the king. 
 
 " Sire," said he, * I hope you do not share the queen's 
 views; else it would be bad for the quiet and peace of the 
 country. Mankind cannot be governed by mercy, but 
 only through fear. Your majesty holds the sword in his 
 hands. If you hesitate to let it fall on evil-doers, they will 
 soon wrest it from your hands, and you will be powerless! " 
 
 " Those are very cruel words, your highness! " ex- 
 claimed Catharine, who allowed herself to be carried away 
 by her magnanimous heart, and suspected that Gardiner 
 had come to move the king to some harsh and bloody 
 decision. 
 
 She wanted to anticipate his design; she wanted to 
 move the king to mildness. But the moment was unpro- 
 pitious for her. 
 
 The king, whom she had just before irritated by her 
 victory over him, felt his vexation heightened by the oppo- 
 sition which she offered to the bishop; for this opposition 
 
376 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 was at the same time directed against himself. The king 
 was not at all inclined to exercise mercy; it was, therefore,. 
 a very wicked notion of the queen's to praise mercy as the 
 highest privilege of princes. 
 
 With a silent nod of the head, he took the papers from 
 Gardiner's hands, and opened them. 
 
 " Ah," said he, running over the pages, " your highness 
 is right; men do not deserve to be treated with mercy, for 
 they are always ready to abuse it. Because we have for a 
 few weeks lighted no fagot-piles and erected no scaffolds, 
 they imagine that we are asleep; and they begin their 
 treasonable and mischievous doings with redoubled vio- 
 lence, and raise their sinful fists against us, in order to 
 mock us. I see here an accusation against one who has 
 presumed to say that there is no king by the grace of God; 
 and that the king is a miserable and sinful mortal, just as 
 well as the lowest beggar. Well, we will concede this man 
 his point — we will not be to him a king by the grace of 
 God, but a king by the wrath of God! We will show him 
 that we are not yet quite like the lowest beggar, for we 
 still possess at least wood enough to build a pile of fagots 
 for him." 
 
 And as the king thus spoke, he broke out into a loud 
 laugh, in which Gardiner heartily chimed. 
 
 " Here I behold the indictment of two others who deny 
 the king's supremacy," continued Henry, still turning over 
 the leaves of the papers. They revile me as a blasphemer, 
 because I dare call myself God's representative — the visi- 
 ble head of His holy Church; they say that God alone is 
 Lord of His Church, and that Luther and Calvin are more 
 exalted representatives of God than the king himself. 
 Verily we must hold our royalty and our God-granted dig- 
 nity very cheap, if we should not punish these transgres- 
 sors, who blaspheme in our sacred person God Himself." 
 
 He continued turning over the leaves. Suddenly a 
 deep flush of anger suffused his countenance, and a fierce 
 curse burst from his lips. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 377 
 
 He threw the paper on the table, and struck it with his 
 clenched fist. " Are all the devils let loose, then? " yelled 
 he, in wrath. " Does sedition blaze so wildly in my land, 
 that we have no longer the power to subdue it? Here a 
 fanaatal heretic on the public street has warned the peo- 
 ple not to read that holy book which I myself, like a well- 
 intentioned and provident father and guardian, wrote for 
 my people, and gave it them that they might be edified 
 and exalted thereby. And this book that felon has shown 
 to the people, and said to them: ' You call that the king's 
 book; and you are right; for it is a wicked book, a work of 
 hell, and the devil is the king's sponsor! ' Ah, I see well 
 we must again show our earnest and angry face to this 
 miserable, traitorous rabble, that it may again have faith 
 in the king. It is a wretched, disgusting, and contempt- 
 ible mob — this people! They are obedient and humble 
 only when they tremble and feel the lash. Only when 
 they are trampled in the dust, do they acknowledge that 
 we are their master; and when we have racked them and 
 burnt, they have respect for our excellency. We must, 
 however, brand royalty on their bodies so that they may be 
 sensible of it as a reality. And by the eternal God, we 
 will do that! Give me the pen here that I may sign and 
 ratify these warrants. But dip the pen well, your high- 
 ness, for there are eight warrants, and I must write my 
 name eight times. Ah, ah, it is a hard and fatiguing 
 occupation to be a king, and no day passes without trouble 
 and toil!" 
 
 " The Lord our God will bless this toil to you! * said 
 Gardiner, solemnly, as he handed the king the pen. 
 
 Henry was preparing to write, as Catharine laid her 
 hand on his, and checked him. 
 
 " Do not sign them, my husband," said she, in a voice 
 of entreaty. " Oh, by all that is sacred to you, I conjure 
 you not to let yourself be carried away by your momentary 
 vexation; let not the injured man be mightier in you 
 than the righteous king. Let the sun set and rise on your 
 25 
 
378 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 wrath; and then, when you are perfectly calm, perfectly 
 composed — then pronounce judgment on these accused. 
 For consider it well, my husband, these are eight death- 
 warrants that you are here about to sign; and with these 
 few strokes of the pen, you will tear eight human beings- 
 from life, from family, and from the world; you will take 
 from the mother, her son; from the wife, her husband; 
 and from the infant children, their father. Consider it r 
 Henry; it is so weighty a responsibility that God has placed 
 in your hand, and it is presumptuous not to meet it in holy 
 earnestness and undisturbed tranquillity of mind." 
 
 * Now, by the holy mother! " cried the king, striking 
 vehemently upon the table, " I believe, forsooth, you dara 
 excuse traitors and blasphemers of their king! You have 
 not heard then of what they are accused? " 
 
 "I have heard it," said Catharine, more and more- 
 warmly; * I have heard, and I say, nevertheless, sign not 
 those death-warrants, my husband. It is true these poor 
 creatures have grievously erred, but they erred as human 
 beings. Then let your punishment also be human. It is 
 not wise, king, to want to avenge so bitterly a trifling: 
 injury to your majesty. A king must be exalted above 
 reviling and calumny. Like the sun, he must shine upon 
 the just and the unjust, no one of whom is so mighty that 
 he can cloud his splendor and dim his glory. Punish evil- 
 doers and criminals, but be noble and magnanimous to- 
 ward those who have injured your person." 
 
 "The king is no person that can be injured!" said 
 Gardiner. " The king is a sublime idea, a mighty, world- 
 embracing thought. "Whoever injures the king, has not 
 injured a person, but a divinely instituted royalty — the 
 universal thought that holds together the whole world! " 
 
 "Whoever injures the king has injured God!" yelled 
 the king; "and whoever seizes our crown and reviles us r 
 shall have his hand struck off, and his tongue torn out, as, 
 is done to atheists and patricides! " 
 
 " Well, strike off their hand then, mutilate them; but 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 379 
 
 do not kill them! " cried Catharine, passionately. " Ascer- 
 tain at least whether their crime is so grievous as they 
 want to make you believe, my husband. Oh, it is so easy 
 now to be accused as a traitor and atheist! All that is, 
 needed for it is an inconsiderate word, a doubt, not as to 
 God, but to his priests and this Church which you, my king, 
 have established; and of which the lofty and peculiar 
 structure is to many so new and unusual that they ask 
 themselves in doubt whether that is a Church of God or a 
 palace of the king, and that they lose themselves in its 
 labyrinthine passages, and wander about without being 
 able to find the exit." 
 
 "Had they faith," said Gardiner, solemnly, "they 
 would not lose their way; and were God with them, the 
 entrance would not be closed to them." 
 
 "Oh, I well know that you are always inexorable!" 
 cried Catharine, angrily. "But it is not to you either 
 that I intercede for mercy, but to the king; and I tell you, 
 sir bishop, it would be better for you, and more worthy of a 
 priest of Christian love, if you united your prayers with 
 mine, instead of wanting to dispose the king's noble heart 
 to severity. You are a priest; and you have learned in 
 your own life that there are many paths that lead to God, 
 and that we, one and all, doubt and are perplexed which 
 of them is right." 
 
 "How!" screamed the king, as he rose from his seat 
 and gazed at Catharine with angry looks. "You mean, 
 then, that the heretics also may find themselves on a path 
 that leads to God? " 
 
 " I mean," cried she, passionately, " that Jesus Christ* 
 too, was called an atheist, and executed. I mean that 
 Stephen was stoned by Paul, and that, nevertheless, both 
 are now honored as saints and prayed to as such. I mean,, 
 that Socrates was not damned because he lived before 
 Christ, and so could not be acquainted with his religion; 
 and that Horace and Julius Caesar, Phidias and Plato,, 
 must yet be called great and noble spirits, even though 
 
380 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 they were heathen. Yes, my lord and husband, I mean 
 that it behooves ns well to exercise gentleness in matters 
 of religion, and that faith is not to be obtruded on men 
 by main force as a burden, but is to be bestowed upon them 
 as a benefit through their own conviction." 
 
 " So you do not hold these eight accused to be crimi' 
 nals worthy of death?" asked Henry with studied calm- 
 ness, and a composure maintained with difficulty. 
 
 "No, my husband! I hold that they are poor, erring 
 mortals, who seek the right path, and would willingly 
 travel it; and who, therefore, ask in doubt all along, ' Is 
 this the right way? ' " 
 
 "It is enough! n said the king, as he beckoned Gardi- 
 ner to him, and, leaning on his arm, took a few steps across 
 the room. " We will speak no more of these matters. 
 They are too grave for us to wish to decide them in the 
 presence of our gay young queen. The heart of woman is 
 always inclined to gentleness and forgiveness. You should 
 have borne that in mind, Gardiner, and not have spoken 
 of these matters in the queen's presence." 
 
 " Sire, it was, however, the hour that you appointed 
 for consultation on these matters." 
 
 "Was it the hour!" exclaimed the king, quickly. 
 "Well, then we did wrong to devote it to anything else 
 than grave employments; and you will pardon me, queen, 
 if I beg you to leave me alone with the bishop. Affairs ol 
 state must not be postponed." 
 
 He presented Catharine his hand, and with difficulty, 
 and yet with a smiling countenance, conducted her to the 
 door. As she stopped, and, looking him in the eye with 
 an expression inquiring and anxious, opened her lips to 
 speak to him, he made an impatient gesture with his hand, 
 and a dark frown gathered on his brow. 
 
 " It is late," said he, hastily, " and we have business of 
 state." 
 
 Catharine did not venture to speak; she bowed in 
 silence and left the room. The king watched her with 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 381 
 
 sullen brow and angry looks. Then he turned round to 
 Gardiner. 
 
 " Now/' asked he, " what do you think of the queen? " 
 
 " I think," said Gardiner, so slowly and so deliberately 
 that each word had time to penetrate the king's sensitive 
 heart like the prick of a needle — " I think that she does 
 not deem them criminals that call the holy book which 
 you have written a work of hell; and that she has a great 
 deal of sympathy for those heretics who will not ac- 
 knowledge your supremacy." 
 
 " By the holy mother, I believe she herself would speak 
 thus, and avow herself among my enemies, if she were not 
 my wife ! " cried the king, in whose heart rage began al- 
 ready to seethe like lava in a volcano. 
 
 " She does it already, although she is your wife, sire! 
 She imagines her exalted position renders her unamenable, 
 and protects her from your righteous wrath; therefore she 
 does what no one else dares do, and speaks what in the 
 mouth of any other would be the blackest treason." 
 
 " What does she? and what says she? " cried the king. 
 " Do not hesitate to tell me, your highness. It behooves 
 me well to know what my wife does and says." 
 
 " Sire, she is not merely the secret patroness of heretics 
 and reformers, but she is also a professor of their faith. 
 She listens to their false doctrine with eager mind, and 
 receives the cursed priests of this sect into her apartments, 
 in order to hear their fanatical discourse and hellish in- 
 spiration. She speaks of these heretics as true believers 
 and Christians; and denominates Luther the light that 
 God has sent into the world to illuminate the gloom and 
 falsehood of the Church with the splendor of truth and 
 love — that Luther, sire, who dared write you such shame- 
 ful and insulting letters, and ridiculed in such a brutal 
 manner your royalty and your wisdom." 
 
 " She is a heretic; and when you say that, you say 
 everything! " screamed the king. The volcano was ripe 
 for an eruption, and the seething lava must at last have 
 
382 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 an outlet. " Yes, she is a heretic ! " repeated the king; 
 "and yet we have sworn to exterminate these atheists 
 from our land." 
 
 " She very well knows that she is secure from your 
 wrath," said Gardiner, with a shrug of his shoulders. 
 " She relies on the fact that she is the queen, and that in 
 the heart of her exalted husband love is mightier than the 
 faith/' 
 
 " Nobody shall suppose that he is secure from my 
 wrath, and no one shall rely on the security afforded him 
 by my love. She is a proud, arrogant, and audacious 
 woman! " cried the king, whose looks were just then fixed 
 again on the chess-board, and whose spite was heightened 
 by the remembrance of the lost game. " She ventures to 
 brave us, and to have a will other than ours. By the holy 
 mother, we will endeavor to break her stubbornness, and 
 bend her proud neck beneath our will! Yes, I will show 
 the world that Henry of England is still the immovable 
 and incorruptible. I will give the heretics an evidence 
 that I am in reality the defender and protector of the 
 faith and of religion in my land, and that nobody stands 
 too high to be struck by my wrath, and to feel the sword of 
 justice on his neck. She is a heretic; and we have sworn 
 to destroy heretics with fire and sword. We shall keep our 
 oath." 
 
 " And God will bless you with His blessing. He will 
 surround your head with a halo of fame; and the Church 
 will praise you as her most glorious pastor, her exalted 
 head." 
 
 " Be it so! " said the king, as with youthful alacrity he 
 strode across the room; and, stepping to his writing-table, 
 with a vigorous and fleet hand he wrote down a few lines. 
 
 Gardiner stood in the middle of the room with his 
 hands folded; and his lips murmured in an undertone a 
 prayer, while his large flashing eyes were fastened on the 
 king with a curious and penetrating expression. 
 
 " Here, your highness," the king then said, " take this 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 383 
 
 paper — take it and order everything necessary. It is an 
 arrest-warrant; and before the night draws on, the queen 
 shall be in the Tower." 
 
 " Verily, the Lord is mighty in yon! " cried Gardiner, 
 as he took the paper; " the heavenly hosts sing their halle- 
 lujah and look down with rapture on the hero who subdues 
 his own heart to serve God and the Church." 
 
 " Take it and speed you! " said the king, hastily. " In 
 a few hours everything must be done. Give Earl Douglas 
 the paper, and bid him go with it to the lord-lieutenant of 
 the Tower, so that he himself may repair hither with the 
 yeomen of the guard. For this woman is yet a queen, and 
 even in the criminal I will still recognize the queen. The 
 lord-lieutenant himself must conduct her to the Tower. 
 Hasten then, say I! But, hark you, keep all this a secret, 
 and let nobody know anything of it till the decisive mo- 
 ment arrives. Otherwise her friends might take a notion 
 to implore my mercy for this sinner; and I abhor this 
 whining and crying. Silence, then, for I am tired and 
 need rest and sleep. I have, as you say, just done a work 
 well pleasing to God; perhaps He may send me, as a re- 
 ward for it, invigorating and strengthening sleep, which I 
 have now so long desired in vain." 
 
 And the king threw back the curtains of his couch, 
 and, supported by Gardiner, laid himself on the downy 
 cushion. 
 
 Gardiner drew the curtains again, and thrust the fatal 
 paper into his pocket. Even in his hands it did not seem 
 to him secure enough. What! might not some curious 
 eye fasten on it, and divine its contents? Might not some 
 impertinent and shameless friend of the queen snatch this 
 paper from him, and carry it to her and give her warning? 
 No, no, it was not secure enough in his hands. He must 
 hide it in the pocket of his gown. There, no one could 
 find it, no one discover it. 
 
 So there he hid it. In the gown with its large folds 
 it was safe; and, after he had thus concealed the precious 
 
384 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 paper, lie left the room with, rapid strides, in order to 
 acquaint Earl Douglas with the glorious result of his 
 plans. 
 
 Not a single time did he look back. Had he done so, 
 he would have sprung back into that room as a tiger 
 pounces on his prey. He would have plunged, as the 
 hawk stoops at the dove, at that piece of white paper that 
 lay there on the floor, exactly on the spot where Gardiner 
 was before standing when he placed into his pocket the 
 arrest-warrant written by the king. 
 
 Ah, even the gown of a priest is not always close 
 enough to conceal a dangerous secret; and even the pocket 
 of a bishop may sometimes have holes in it. 
 
 Gardiner went away with the proud consciousness of 
 having the order of arrest in his pocket; and that fatal 
 paper lay on the floor in the middle of the king's 
 chamber. 
 
 Who will come to pick it up? Who will become the 
 sharer of this dangerous secret? To whom will this mute 
 paper proclaim the shocking news that the queen has 
 fallen into disgrace, and is this very day to be dragged to 
 the Tower as a prisoner? 
 
 All is still and lonely in the king's apartment. Noth- 
 ing is stirring, not even the heavy damask curtains of the 
 royal couch. 
 
 The king sleeps. Even vexation and anger are a good 
 lullaby; they have so agitated and prostrated the king, 
 that he has actually fallen asleep from weariness. 
 
 Ah, the king should have been thankful to his wife for 
 his vexation at the lost game of chess, and his wrath at 
 Catharine's heretical sentiments. These had fatigued 
 him; these had lulled him to sleep. 
 
 The warrant of arrest still lay on the floor. Now, quite 
 softly, quite cautiously, the door opens. Who is it that 
 dares venture to enter the king's room unsummoned and 
 unannounced? 
 
 There are only three persons who dare venture that: 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 385 
 
 the queen, Princess Elizabeth, and John Heywood the 
 fool. Which of the three is it? 
 
 It is Princess Elizabeth, who comes to salute her royal 
 father. Every forenoon at this hour she had found the 
 king in his room. Where was he then to-day? As she 
 looked around the room with an inquiring and surprised 
 air, her eye fell on that paper which lay there on the floor. 
 She picked it up, and examined it with childish curiosity. 
 What could this paper contain? Surely it was no secret — 
 else, it would not lie here on the floor. 
 
 She opened it and read. Her fine countenance ex- 
 pressed horror and amazement; a low exclamation escaped 
 her lips. But Elizabeth had a strong and resolute soul; 
 and the unexpected and the surprising did not dull her 
 clear vision, nor cloud her sharp wit. The queen was in 
 danger. The queen was to be imprisoned. That, this 
 dreadful paper shrieked in her ear; but she durst not 
 allow herself to be stunned by it. She must act; she must 
 warn the queen. 
 
 She hid the paper in her bosom, and light as a zephyr 
 she floated away again out of the chamber. 
 
 With flashing eyes and cheeks reddened by her rapid 
 race Elizabeth entered the queen's chamber; with passion- 
 ate vehemence she clasped her in her arms and tenderly 
 kissed her. 
 
 " Catharine, my queen, and my mother," said she, " we 
 have sworn to stand by and protect each other when dan- 
 ger threatens us. Fate is gracious to me, for it has given 
 into my hand the means of making good my oath this 
 very day. Take that paper and read! It is an order 
 for your imprisonment, made out by the king himself. 
 When you have read it, then let us consider what is to be 
 done, and how we can avert the danger from you." 
 
 "An order of imprisonment!" said Catharine, with a 
 shudder, as "she read it. " An order of imprisonment — 
 that is to say, a death-warrant! For when once the 
 threshold of that frightful Tower is crossed, it denotes 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 that it is never to be left again; and if a queen is arrested 
 and accused, then is she also already condemned. Oh, my 
 God, princess, do you comprehend that — to have to die 
 while life still throbs so fresh and warm in our veins? To 
 be obliged to go to death, while the future still allures us 
 with a thousand hopes, a thousand wishes? My God, to 
 have to descend into the desolate prison and into the 
 gloomy grave, while the world greets us with alluring 
 voices, and spring-tide has scarcely awoke in our heart! " 
 
 Streams of tears burst from her eyes, and she hid her 
 face in her trembling hands. 
 
 " Weep not, queen," whispered Elizabeth, herself trem- 
 bling and pale as death. " Weep not; but consider what 
 is to be done. Each minute, and the danger increases; 
 each minute brings the evil nearer to us." 
 
 "You are right," said Catharine, as she again raised 
 her head, and shook the tears from her eyes. " Yes, you 
 are right; it is not time to weep and wail. Death is creep- 
 ing upon me; but I — I will not die. I live still; and so 
 long as there is a breath in me I will fight against death. 
 God will assist me; God will help me to overcome this 
 danger also, as I have already done so many others." 
 
 " But what will you do? where can you begin? You 
 know not the accusation. You know not who accuses you, 
 nor with what you are charged." 
 
 " Yet I suspect it! " said the queen, musingly. " When 
 I now recall to mind the king's angry countenance, and 
 the malicious smile of that malignant priest, I believe I 
 know the accusation. Yes — everything is now clear to 
 me. Ah, it is the heretic that they would sentence to 
 death. Well, now, my lord bishop, I still live; and we will 
 see which of us two will gain the victory! " 
 
 With proud step and glowing cheeks she hurried to 
 the door. Elizabeth held her back. "Whither are you 
 going?" cried she, in astonishment. 
 
 " To the king! " said she, with a proud smile. " He 
 has heard the bishop; now he shall hear me also. The 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 387 
 
 king's disposition is fickle and easily changed. We will 
 now see which cunning is the stronger — the cunning of the 
 priest or the cunning of the woman. Elizabeth, pray for 
 me. I go to the king; and you will either see me free and 
 happy, or never again." 
 
 She imprinted a passionate kiss on Elizabeth's lips, and 
 hurriedly left the chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 CHESS-PLAY. 
 
 It was many days since the king had been as well as 
 he was to-day. For a long time he had not enjoyed such 
 refreshing sleep as on the day when he signed the warrant 
 for the queen's imprisonment. But he thought nothing 
 at all about it. Sleep seemed to have obliterated all recol- 
 lection of it from his memory. Like an anecdote which 
 you listen to, and smile at for the moment, but soon forget, 
 so had the whole occurrence vanished again from him. It 
 was an anecdote of the moment — a transient interlude — 
 nothing further. 
 
 The king had slept well, and he had no care for any- 
 thing else. He stretched himself, and lay lounging on his 
 couch, thinking with rapture how fine it would be if he 
 could enjoy such sweet and refreshing repose every day, 
 anfl. if no bad dreams and no fear would frighten away 
 sleep from his eyes. He felt very serene and very good- 
 humored; and had any one now come to beg a favor of the 
 king, he would have granted it in the first joy after such 
 invigorating sleep. But he was alone; no one was with 
 him; he must repress his gracious desires. But no. Was 
 it not as though something were stirring and breathing 
 behind the curtains? 
 
388 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 The king threw back the curtains, and a soft smile 
 flitted over his features; for before his bed sat the queen. 
 There she sat with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, and 
 greeted him with a roguish smile. 
 
 " Ah, Kate, it is you! " cried the king. " Well, now, I 
 understand how it happened that I have had such a sound 
 and refreshing sleep! You stood by as my good angel, 
 and scared the pains and bad dreams away from my couch." 
 
 And as he said this, he reached out his hand and ten- 
 derly stroked her velvet cheek. He did not at all recol- 
 lect that he had already, as it were, devoted that charming 
 head to the scaffold, and that in a few hours more those 
 bright eyes were to b.hold naught but the night of the 
 dungeon. Sleep, as we have said, had lulled to rest also the 
 recollection of this; and the evil thoughts had not yet 
 awoke again in him. To sign an order of arrest or a death- 
 warrant was with the king such a usual and every-day mat- 
 ter, that it constituted no epoch in his life, and neither 
 burdened him with troubles of conscience nor made his 
 heart shudder and tremble. 
 
 But Catharine thought of it, and as the king's hand 
 stroked her cheek, it was as though death were just then 
 touching her, never again to release her. However, she 
 overcame this momentary horror, and had the courage to 
 preserve her serene and innocent air. 
 
 " You call me your good angel, my husband," said she, 
 with a smile; " but yet I am nothing more than your little 
 Puck, who bustles about you, and now and then makes 
 you laugh with his drolleries." 
 
 "And a dear little Puck you are, Katie," cried the 
 king, who always gazed upon his wife's rosy and fresh 
 countenance with real satisfaction. 
 
 " Then I will prove myself this very day your Puck, 
 and allow you no more repose on your couch," said she, as 
 she made a mock effort to raise him up. " Do you know, 
 my husband, why I came here? A butterfly has tapped at 
 my window. Only think now, a butterfly in winter! That 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 389« 
 
 betokens that this time winter is spring; and the clerk of 
 the weather above there has confounded January with 
 March. The butterfly has invited us, king; and only seel 
 the sun is winking into the window to us, and says we have; 
 but to come out, as he has already dried the walks in the 
 garden below, and called forth a little grass on the plat. 
 And your rolling chair stands all ready, my lord and hus- 
 band, and your Puck, as you see, has already put on her 
 furs, and clad herself in armor against the winter, which, 
 however, is not there! " 
 
 " Well, then, help me, my dearest Puck, so that I cart 
 arise, and obey the command of the butterfly and the 
 sun and my lovely wife," cried the king, as he put his arm 
 around Catharine's neck, and slowly raised himself from 
 the couch. 
 
 She busied herself about him with officious haste; she- 
 put her arm tenderly on his shoulder and supported him, 
 and properly arranged for him the gold chain, which had 
 slipped out of place on his doublet, and playfully plaited 
 the lace ruff which was about his neck. 
 
 "Is it your order, my husband, that your servants 
 come? — the master of ceremonies, who, without doubt, 
 awaits your beck in the anteroom — the lord bishop — who 
 awhile ago made such a black-looking face at me? But 
 how! my husband, your face, too, is now in an eclipse? - 
 How? Has your Puck perchance said something to put 
 you out of tune?" 
 
 " No, indeed! " said the king, gloomily; but he avoided 
 meeting her smiling glance and looking in her rosy face. 
 
 The evil thoughts had again awoke in him; and he now 
 remembered the warrant of arrest that he had given Gar- 
 diner. He remembered it, and he regretted it. For she 
 was so fair and lovely — his young queen; she understood 
 so well by her jests to smooth away care from his brow, and 
 affright vexation from his soul — she was such an agreeable 
 and sprightly pastime, such a refreshing means of driving 
 away ennui. 
 
390 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT 
 
 Not for her sake did he regret what he had done, but 
 only on his own account. From selfishness alone, he re- 
 pented having issued that order for the queen's imprison- 
 ment. Catharine observed him. Her glance, sharpened 
 by inward fear, read his thoughts on his brow, and under- 
 stood the sigh which involuntarily arose from his breast. 
 She again seized courage; she might succeed in turning 
 away by a smile the sword that hung over her head. 
 
 " Come, my lord and husband," said she, cheerfully, 
 " the sun beckons to us, and the trees shake their heads 
 indignantly because we are not yet there." 
 
 " Yes, come, Kate," said the king, rousing himself with 
 an effort from his brown study; " come, we will go down 
 into God's free air. Perhaps He is nearer to us there, and 
 may illuminate us with good thoughts and wholesome reso- 
 lutions. Come, Kate." 
 
 The queen gave him her arm, and, supported on it, the 
 king advanced a few steps. But suddenly Catharine stood 
 still; and as the king fastened on her his inquiring look, 
 she blushed and cast down her eyes. 
 
 " Well! " asked the king, " why do you linger? " 
 
 " Sire, I was considering your words; and what you say 
 about the sun and wholesome resolutions has touched my 
 heart and startled my conscience. My husband, you are 
 right; God is there without, and I dare not venture to be- 
 hold the sun, which is God's eye, before I have made my 
 confession and received absolution. Sire, I am a great 
 sinner, and my conscience gives me no rest. Will you be 
 my confessor, and listen to me? " 
 
 The king sighed. "Ah," thought he, "she is hurry- 
 ing to destruction, and by her own confession of guilt she 
 will make it impossible for me to hold her guiltless! " 
 
 " Speak! " said he aloud. 
 
 " First," said she, with downcast eyes — " first, I must 
 confess to you that I have to-day 1 deceived you, my lord 
 and king. Vanity and sinful pride enticed me to this; 
 and childish anger made me consummate what vanity 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 391 
 
 whispered to me. But I repent, my king; I repent from 
 the bottom of my soul, and I swear to you, my husband — 
 yes, I swear to you by all that is sacred to me, that it is 
 the first and only time that I have deceived you. And 
 never will I venture to do it again, for it is a dismal 
 and awful feeling to stand before you with a guilty con- 
 science." 
 
 " And in what have you deceived us, Kate? " asked the 
 king; and his voice trembled. 
 
 Catharine drew from her dress a small roll of paper, 
 and, humbly bowing, handed it to the king. " Take and 
 see for yourself, my husband," said she. 
 
 With hurried hand the king opened the paper, and 
 then looked in utter astonishment, now at its contents, 
 and now at the blushing face of the queen. 
 
 "What!" said he, "you give me a pawn from the 
 chess-board! What does that mean?" 
 
 " That means," said she, in a tone of utter contrition — 
 " that means, that I stole it from you, and thereby cheated 
 you out of your victory. Oh, pardon me, my husband! but 
 I could no longer endure to lose always, and I was afraid 
 you would no more allow me the pleasure of playing with 
 you, when you perceived what a weak and contemptible 
 antagonist I am. And behold, this little pawn was my 
 enemy! It stood near my queen and threatened her with 
 check, while it discovered check to my king from your 
 bishop. You were just going to make this move, which 
 was to ruin me, when Bishop Gardiner entered. You 
 turned away your eyes and saluted him. You were not 
 looking on the game. Oh, my lord and husband, the 
 temptation was too alluring and seductive; and I yielded 
 to it. Softly I took the pawn from the board, and slipped 
 it into my pocket. When you looked again at the game, 
 you seemed surprised at first; but your magnanimous and 
 lofty spirit had no suspicion of my base act; so you inno- 
 cently played on; and so I won the game of chess. Oh, 
 my king, will you pardon me, and not be angry with me ? " 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 The king broke out into a loud laugh, and looked with 
 an expression of tenderness at Catharine, who stood before 
 him with downcast eyes, abashed and blushing. This 
 sight only redoubled his merriment, and made him again 
 and again roar out with laughter. 
 
 " And is that all your crime, Kate ? " asked he, at 
 length, drying his eyes. " You have stolen a pawn from 
 me — this is your first and only deception? " 
 
 "Is it not indeed great enough, sire? Did I not pur- 
 loin it because I was so high-minded as to want to win a 
 game of chess from you? Is not the whole court even 
 now acquainted with my splendid luck? And does it not 
 know that I have been the victor to-day, whilst yet I 
 was not entitled to be so — whilst I deceived you so shame- 
 fully?" 
 
 "Now, verily," said the king, solemnly, "happy are 
 the men who are not worse deceived by their wives than 
 you have deceived me to-day; and happy are the women 
 whose confessions are so pure and innocent as yours have 
 been to-day! Do but lift up your eyes again, my Katie; 
 that sin is forgiven you; and by God and by your king it 
 shall be accounted to you as a virtue." 
 
 He laid his hand on her head, as if in blessing, and 
 gazed at her long and silently. Then, said he, laughingly: 
 "According to thi6, then, my Kate, I should have been 
 the victor of to-day, and not have lost that game of chess." 
 
 " No," said she, dolefully, " I must have lost it, if I had 
 not stolen the pawn." 
 
 Again the king laughed. Catharine said, earnestly: 
 " Do but believe me, my husband, Bishop Gardiner alone 
 is the cause of my fall. Because he was by, I did not want 
 to lose. My pride revolted to think that this haughty and 
 arrogant priest was to be witness of my defeat. In mind, 
 I already saw the cold and contemptuous smile with which 
 he would look down on me, the vanquished; and my heart 
 rose in rebellion at the thought of being humbled before 
 him. And now I have arrived at the second part of my 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 393 
 
 fault which I want to confess to you to-day. Sire, I must 
 acknowledge another great fault to you. I have grievously 
 offended against you to-day, in that I contradicted you, 
 and withstood your wise and pious words. Ah, my hus- 
 band, it was not done to spite you, but only to vex and 
 annoy the haughty priest. For I must confess to you, my 
 king, I hate this Bishop of Winchester — ay, yet more — I 
 have a dread of him; for my foreboding heart tells me that 
 he is my enemy, that he is watching each of my looks, each 
 of my words, so that he can make from them a noose to 
 strangle me. He is the evil destiny that creeps up behind 
 me and would one day certainly destroy me, if your benefi- 
 cent hand and your almighty arm did not protect me. 
 Oh, when I behold him, my husband, I would always gladly 
 fly to your heart, and say to you: ' Protect me, my king, 
 and have compassion on me! Have faith in me and love 
 me; for if you do not, I am lost! The evil fiend is there 
 to destroy me.' " 
 
 And, as she thus spoke, she clung affectionately to the 
 king's side, and ; leaning her head on his breast, looked up 
 to him with a glance of tender entreaty and touching 
 devotion. 
 
 The king bent down and kissed her brow. " Oh, sancta 
 simplicitas" softly murmured he — "she knows not how 
 nigh she is to the truth, and how much reason she has for 
 her evil forebodings! " Then he asked aloud: " So, Kate, 
 you believe that Gardiner hates you? " 
 
 "I do not believe it, I know it!" said she. "He 
 wounds me whenever he can; and though his wounds are 
 made only with pins, that comes only from this, that he is 
 afraid that you might discover it if he drew a dagger on 
 me, whilst you might not notice the pin with which he 
 secretly wounds me. And what was his coming here to- 
 day other than a new assault on me ? He knows very well 
 — and I have never made a secret of it — that I am an 
 enemy to this Roman Catholic religion the pope of which 
 has dared to hurl his ban against my lord and husband; 
 
39-i HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 and that I seek with lively interest to be instructed as to 
 the doctrine and religion of the so-called reformers." 
 
 " They say that you are a heretic," said the king, 
 gravely. 
 
 " Gardiner says that! But if I am so, you are so too > 
 my king; for your belief is mine. If I am so, so too is 
 Cranmer, the noble Archbishop of Canterbury; for he is- 
 my spiritual adviser and helper. But Gardiner wishes 
 that I were a heretic, and he wants me likewise to appear 
 so to you. See, my husband, why it was that he laid those 
 eight death-warrants before you awhile ago. There were 
 eight, all heretics, whom you were to condemn — not a 
 single papist among them; and yet I know that the prisons 
 are full of papists, who, in the fanaticism of their perse- 
 cuted faith, have spoken words just as worthy of punish- 
 ment as those unfortunate ones whom you were to-day to 
 send from life to death by a stroke of your pen. Sire, I 
 should have prayed you just as fervently, just as sup- 
 pliantly, had they been papists whom you were to sentence 
 to death! But Gardiner wanted a proof of my heresy; 
 and therefore he selected eight heretics, for whom I was 
 to oppose your hard decree." 
 
 " It is true," said the king, thoughtfully; " there was 
 not a single papist among them! But tell me, Kate — are 
 you really a heretic, and an adversary of your king? " 
 
 With a sweet smile she looked deep into his eyes, and 
 humbly crossed her arms over her beautiful breast. 
 "Your adversary!" whispered she. "Are you not my 
 husband and my lord? Was not the woman made to be 
 subject to the man? The man was created after the like- 
 ness of God, and the woman after the likeness of man. So 
 the woman is only the man's second self; and he must 
 have compassion on her in love; and he must give her of 
 his spirit, and influence her understanding from his under- 
 standing. Therefore your duty is to instruct me, my 
 husband; and mine is, to learn of you. And of all the 
 women in the world, to no one is this duty made so easy 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 395 
 
 as to me; for God has been gracious to me and given me 
 as my husband a king whose prudence, wisdom, and learn- 
 ing are the wonder of all the world." * 
 
 "What a sweet little flatterer you are, Kate!" said 
 the king, with a smile; " and with what a charming voice 
 you want to conceal the truth from us! The truth is, that 
 you yourself are a very learned little body, who has no 
 'need at all to learn anything from others, but who would 
 be well able to instruct others." f 
 
 " Oh, if it is so, as you say," cried Catharine, " well, 
 then would I teach the whole world to love my king as I 
 do, and to be subject to him in humility, faithfulness, and 
 obedience, as I am." 
 
 And as she thus spoke, she threw both her arms about 
 the king's neck, and leaned her head with a languishing 
 expression upon his breast. 
 
 The king kissed her, and pressed her fast to his heart. 
 He thought no longer of the danger that was hovering over 
 Catharine's head; he thought only that he loved her, and 
 that life would be very desolate, very tedious and sad with- 
 out her. 
 
 " And now, my husband," said Catharine, gently disen- 
 gaging herself from him — " now, since I have confessed to 
 you and received absolution from you — now let us go down 
 into the garden, so that God's bright sun may shine into 
 our hearts fresh and glad. Come, my husband, your chair 
 is ready; and the bees and the butterflies, the gnats and 
 the flies, have already practised a hymn, with which they 
 are going to greet you, my husband." 
 
 Laughing and jesting, she drew him along to the ad- 
 joining room, where the courtiers and the rolling-chair 
 were standing ready; and the king mounted his triumphal 
 car, and allowed himself to be rolled through the carpeted 
 
 * The queen's own words, as they have been given by all historical 
 writers. See on this point Burnet, vol. i, p. 84 ; Tytler, p. 413 ; Lar- 
 rey's "Histoire d'Angleterre," vol. ii, p. 201; Leti, vol. i, p. 154. 
 
 t Historical. The king's own words. 
 
396 HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 corridors, and down the staircases, transformed into broad 
 inclined planes of marble, into the garden. 
 
 The air had the freshness of winter and the warmth of 
 spring. The grass like a diligent weaver was already be- 
 ginning to weave a carpet over the black level of the 
 square; and already here and there a tiny blossom, curious 
 and bashful, was peeping out and appeared to be smiling 
 in astonishment at its own premature existence. The sun 
 seemed so warm and bright; the heavens were so blue! 
 At the king's side went Catharine, with such rosy cheeks 
 .and sparkling eyes. Those eyes were always directed 
 to her husband; and her charming prattle was to the 
 king like the melodious song of birds, and made his 
 heart leap for pleasure and delight. But how? What 
 noise all at once drowned Catharine's sweet prattle? 
 And what was it that flashed up there at the end of that 
 large alley which the royal pair with their suite had just 
 entered? 
 
 It was the noise of soldiers advancing; and shining hel- 
 mets and coats-of-mail flashed in the sunlight. 
 
 One band of soldiers held the outlet from the alley; 
 -another advanced up it in close order. At their head were 
 seen striding along Gardiner and Earl Douglas, and at 
 their side the lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 The king's countenance assumed a lowering and angry 
 expression and his cheeks were suffused with crimson. 
 "With the quickness of youth he rose from his chair, and, 
 Taised to his full height, he looked with flaming eyes at 
 the procession. 
 
 The queen seized his hand and pressed it to her breast. 
 * Ah," said she, with a low whisper, " protect me, my hus- 
 band, for fear already overpowers me again! It is my 
 enemy — it is Gardiner — that comes, and I tremble." 
 
 " You shall no longer tremble before him, Kate! " said 
 the king. " Woe to them, that dare make King Henry's 
 •consort tremble! I will speak with Gardiner." 
 
 And almost roughly pushing aside the queen, the king, 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 397 
 
 mtterly heedless in his violent excitement of the pain of his 
 foot, went in a quick pace to meet the advancing troop. 
 
 He ordered them by his gesture to halt, and called 
 Gardiner and Douglas to him. "What want you here? And 
 what means this strange array? " asked he, in a rough tone. 
 
 The two courtiers stared at him with looks of amaze- 
 ment, and durst not answer him. 
 
 " Well! " asked the king, with ever-rising wrath, " will 
 you at length tell me by what right you intrude into my 
 garden with an armed host — specially at the same hour 
 that I am here with my consort? Verily, there is no suffi- 
 cient excuse for such a gross violation of the reverence 
 which you owe your king and master; and I marvel, my 
 lord master of ceremonies, that you did not seek to pre- 
 vent this indecorum! n 
 
 Earl Douglas muttered a few words of apology, which 
 the king did not understand, or did not want to under- 
 stand. 
 
 " The duty of a master of ceremonies is to protect his 
 king from every annoyance, and you, Earl Douglas, offer 
 it to me yourself. Perchance you want thereby to show 
 that you are weary of your office. Well, then, my lord, I 
 dismiss you from it, and that your presence may not re- 
 mind me of this morning's transaction, you will leave the 
 court and London! Farewell, my lord! " 
 
 Earl Douglas, turning pale and trembling, staggered a 
 few steps backward, and gazed at the king with astonish- 
 ment. He wanted to speak, but Henry, with a command- 
 ing wave of the hand, bade him be silent. 
 
 "And now for you, my lord bishop!" said the king, 
 and his eyes were turned on Gardiner with an expression 
 so wrathful and contemptuous, that he turned pale and 
 looked down to the ground. " What means this strange 
 train with which the priest of God approaches his royal 
 master to-day? And under what impulse of Christian 
 love are you going to hold to-day a heretic hunt in the 
 garden of your king? " 
 
398 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 " Sire/' said Gardiner, completely beside himself, 
 "your majesty well knows why I come; it was at your 
 majesty's command that I with Earl Douglas and the 
 lieutenant of the Tower came, in order to " 
 
 "Dare not to speak further!" yelled the king, who 
 became still more angry because Gardiner would not 
 understand him and comprehend the altered state of his 
 mind. " How dare you make a pretence of my commands, 
 whilst I, full of just amazement, question you as to the 
 cause of your appearance? That is to say, you want ta 
 charge your king with falsehood. You want to excuse 
 yourself by accusing me. Ah, my worthy lord bishop, 
 this time you are thwarted in your plan, and I disavow 
 you and your foolish attempt. No! there is nobody here 
 whom you shall arrest; and, by the holy mother of God, 
 were your eyes not blind, you would have seen that here, 
 where the king is taking an airing with his consort, there 
 could be no one whom these catchpolls had to look for! 
 The presence of the royal majesty is like the presence of 
 God; it dispenses happiness and peace about it; and who- 
 ever is touched by his glory, is graced and sanctified 
 thereby." 
 
 " But, your majesty," screamed Gardiner, whom anger 
 and disappointed hope had made forgetful of all considera- 
 tions, "you wanted me to arrest the queen; you yourself 
 gave me the order for it; and now when I come to execute 
 your will — now you repudiate me." 
 
 The king uttered a yell of rage, and with lifted arm 
 moved some steps toward Gardiner. 
 
 But suddenly he felt his arm held back. It was Catha- 
 rine, who had hurried up to the king. " Oh, my husband," 
 said she, in a low whisper, " whatever he may have done, 
 spare him! Still he is a priest of the Lord; and so let hi& 
 sacred robe protect him, though perchance his deeds con- 
 demn him! " 
 
 " Ah, do you plead for him? " cried the king. " Keally, 
 my poor wife, you suspect not how little ground you have- 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 399 
 
 to pity him, and to beg my mercy for him.* But you are 
 right. We will respect his cassock, and think no more of 
 what a haughty and intriguing man is wrapped in it. — 
 But beware, priest, that you do not again remind me of 
 that. My wrath would then inevitably strike you; and I 
 should have as little mercy for you as you say I ought to 
 show to other evil-doers. And inasmuch as j^ou are a 
 priest, be penetrated with a sense of the gravity of your 
 office and the sacredness of your calling. Your episcopal 
 see is at Winchester, and I think your duties call you 
 thither. We no longer need you, for the noble Archbishop 
 of Canterbury is coming back to us, and will have to fulfil 
 the duties of his office near us and the queen. Farewell! " 
 
 He turned his back on Gardiner, and, supported on 
 Catharine's arm, returned to his rolling-chair. 
 
 " Kate," said he, " just now a lowering cloud stood in 
 your sky, but, thanks to your smile and your innocent face, 
 it has passed harmlessly over. Methinks we still owe you 
 special thanks for this; and we would like to show you 
 that by some office of love. . Is there nothing that would 
 give you special delight, Kate?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said she, with fervor. " Two great desires 
 burn in my heart." 
 
 " Then name them, Kate; and, by the mother of God, 
 if it is in the power of a king to fulfil them, I will do it." 
 
 Catharine seized his hand and pressed it to her heart. 
 " Sire," said she, " they wanted to have you sign eight 
 death-warrants to-day. Oh, my husband, make of these 
 eight criminals eight happy, thankful subjects; teach 
 them to love that king whom they have reviled — teach 
 their children, their wives and mothers to pray for you, 
 whilst you restore life and freedom to these fathers, these 
 sons and husbands, and while you, great and merciful, like 
 Deity, pardon them." 
 
 " So shall it be! " cried the king, cheerfully. " Our 
 hand shall have to-day no other work than to rest in yours; 
 
 * The king's own words.— See Leti, vol. i, p. 132. 
 
400 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 and we will spare it from making these eight strokes of the 
 pen. The eight evil-doers are pardoned; and they shall 
 be free this very day." 
 
 With an exclamation of rapturous delight Catharine 
 pressed Henry's hand to her lips, and her face shone with 
 pure happiness. 
 
 "And your second wish? " asked the king. 
 
 " My second wish," said she, with a smile, " pleads for 
 the freedom of a poor prisoner — for the freedom of a 
 human heart, sire." 
 
 The king laughed. "A human heart? Does that 
 then run about on the street, so that it can be caught and 
 made a prisoner of?" 
 
 " Sire, you have found it, and incarcerated it in your 
 daughter's bosom. You want to put Elizabeth's heart in 
 fetters, and by an unnatural law compel her to renounce 
 her freedom of choice. Only think — to want to bid a wom- 
 an's heart, before she can love, to inquire first about the 
 genealogical tree, and to look at the coat-of-arms before 
 she notices the man!" 
 
 " Oh, women, women, what foolish children you are, 
 though!" cried the king, laughingly. "The question is 
 about thrones, and you think about your hearts! But 
 come, Kate, you shall still further explain that to me; 
 and we will not take back our word, for we have given it 
 you from a free and glad heart." 
 
 He took the queen's arm, and, supported on it, walked 
 slowly up the alley with her. The lords and ladies of the 
 court followed them in silence and at a respectful dis- 
 tance; and no one suspected that this woman, who was 
 stepping along so proud and magnificent, had but just now 
 escaped an imminent peril of her life; that this man, who 
 was leaning on her arm with such devoted tenderness, had 
 but a few hours before resolved on her destruction.* 
 
 * All this plot instigated by Gardiner against the queen is, in 
 minutest details, historically true, and is found substantially the 
 same in all historical works. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 401 
 
 And whilst chatting confidentially together they both 
 wandered through the avenues, two others with drooping 
 head and pale face left the royal castle, which was to be 
 to them henceforth a lost paradise. Sullen spite and rag- 
 ing hate were in their hearts, but yet they were obliged to 
 endure in silence; they were obliged to smile and to seem 
 harmless, in order not to prepare a welcome feast for 
 the malice of the court. They felt the spiteful looks of all 
 these courtiers, although they passed by them with down- 
 cast eyes. They imagined they heard their malicious 
 whispers, their derisive laughter; and it pierced their 
 hearts like the stab of a dagger. 
 
 At length they had surmounted it — at length the pal- 
 ace lay behind them, and they were at least free to pour 
 out in words the agony that consumed them — free to be 
 able to break out into bitter execrations, into curses and 
 lamentations. 
 
 " Lost! all is lost! " said Earl Douglas to himself in a 
 hollow voice. " I am thwarted in all my plans. I have 
 sacrificed to the Church my life, my means, ay, even my 
 daughter, and it has all been in vain. And, like a beggar, 
 I now stand on the street forsaken and without com- 
 fort; and our holy mother the Church will no longer 
 heed the son who loved her and sacrificed himself for 
 her, since he was so unfortunate, and his sacrifice unavail- 
 
 fog." 
 
 "Despair not!" said Gardiner, solemnly. "Clouds 
 gather above us; but they are dispersed again. And after 
 the day of storm, comes again the day of light. Our day 
 also will come, my friend. Now, we go hence, our heads 
 strewn with ashes, and bowed at heart; but, believe me, 
 we shall one day come again with shining face and ex- 
 ultant heart; and the flaming sword of godly wrath will 
 glitter in our hands, and a purple robe will enfold us, 
 dyed in the blood of heretics whom we offer up to the Lord 
 our God as a well-pleasing sacrifice. God spares us for a 
 better time; and our banishment, believe me, friend, is 
 
402 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 
 
 but a refuge that God has prepared for us this evil time 
 which we are approaching." 
 
 " You speak of an evil time, and nevertheless you hope, 
 your highness?" asked Douglas, gloomily. 
 
 "And nevertheless I hope!" said Gardiner, with a 
 strange and horrible smile, and, bending down closer to 
 Douglas, he whispered: " the king has only a few days more 
 to live. He does not suspect how near he is to his death, 
 and nobody has the courage to tell him. But his physician 
 has confided it to me. His vital forces are consumed, and 
 death stands already before his door to throttle him." 
 
 " And when he is dead," said Earl Douglas, shrugging 
 his shoulders, "his son Edward will be king, and those 
 heretical Seymours will control the helm of state! Call 
 you that hope, your highness? " 
 
 " I call it so." 
 
 "Do you not know that Edward, young as he is, is 
 nevertheless a fanatical adherent of the heretical doctrine, 
 and at the same time a furious opponent of the Church in 
 which alone is salvation? " 
 
 " I know it, but I know also that Edward is a feeble 
 boy; and there is current in our Church a holy prophecy 
 which predicts that his reign is only of short duration. 
 God only knows what his death will be, but the Church 
 has often before seen her enemies die a sudden death. 
 Death has been often before this the most effective ally of 
 our holy mother the Church. Believe me, then, my son, 
 and hope, for I tell you Edward's rule will be of short 
 duration. And after him she will ascend the throne, the 
 noble and devout Mary, the rigid Catholic, who hates here- 
 tics as much as Edward loves them. Oh, friend, when 
 Mary ascends the throne, we shall rise from our humilia- 
 tion, and the dominion will be ours. Then will all Eng- 
 land become, as it were, a single great temple, and the 
 fagot-piles about the stake are the altars on which we will 
 consume the heretics, and their shrieks of agony are the 
 holy psalms which we will make them strike up to the 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 403 
 
 honor of God and His holy Church. Hope for this time, 
 for I tell you it will soon come." 
 
 "If you say so, your highness, then it will come to 
 pass," said Douglas, significantly. " I will then hope and 
 wait. I will save myself from evil days in Scotland, and 
 wait for the good." 
 
 " And I go, as this king by the wrath of God has com- 
 manded, to my episcopal seat. The wrath of God will 
 soon call Henry hence. May his dying hour be full of tor- 
 ment, and may the Holy Father's curse be realized and ful- 
 filled in him! Farewell! We go with palms of peace 
 forced on us; but we will return with the flaming sword, 
 and our hands will be dripping with heretic blood." 
 
 They once more shook hands and silently departed, and 
 before evening came on they had both left London.* 
 
 * Gardiner's prophecy was soon fulfilled. A few days after Gardi- 
 ner had fallen into disgrace Henry, the Eighth died, and his son 
 Edward, yet a minor, ascended the throne. But his rule was of brief 
 duration. After a reign of scarcely six years, he died a youth of 
 the age of sixteen years, and his sister Mary, called the Catholic, 
 ascended the throne. Her first act was to release Gardiner, who 
 under Edward's reign had been confined as a prisoner in the Tower, 
 and to appoint him her minister, and later, to the place of lord 
 chancellor. He was one of the most furious persecutors of the 
 Reformers. Once he said at a council in the presence of the bigoted 
 queen: "These heretics have a soul so black that it can be washed 
 clean only in their own blood." He it was, too, who urged the 
 queen to such severe and odious measures against the Princess 
 Elizabeth, and caused her to be a second time declared a bastard 
 and unworthy of succeeding to the throne. When Mary died, 
 Gardiner performed, in Westminster Abbey, where she was en- 
 tombed, the service for the dead in the presence of her successor, 
 Queen Elizabeth. Gardiner's discourse was an enthusiastic eulogium 
 of the deceased queen, and he set forth, as her special merit, that she 
 hated the heretics so ardently and had so many of them executed. 
 He closed with an invective against the Protestants, in which he so 
 little spared the young queen, and spoke of her in such injurious 
 terms, that he was that very day committed to prison. — Leti, vol. i, 
 ■p. 314. 
 
404 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 A short time after this eventful walk in the garden- 
 of Whitehall, the queen entered the apartments of the- 
 Princess Elizabeth, who hastened to meet her with a burst 
 of joy, and clasped her wildly in her arms. 
 
 "Saved!" whispered she. "The danger is overcome,, 
 and again you are the mighty queen, the adored wife ! " 
 
 "And I have you to thank that I am so, princess! 
 Without that warrant of arrest which you brought me, I. 
 was lost. Oh, Elizabeth, but what a martyrdom it was! 
 To smile and jest, whilst my heart trembled with dread 
 and horror; to appear innocent and unembarrassed, whilst 
 it seemed to me as if I heard already the whiz of the axe- 
 that was about to strike my neck! Oh, my God, I passed 
 through the agonies and the dread of a whole lifetime in; 
 that one hour! My soul has been harassed till it is wea- 
 ried to death, and my strength is exhausted. I could weep, 
 weep continually over this wretched, deceitful world, in 
 which to wish right and to do good avail nothing; but in 
 which you must dissemble and lie, deceive and disguise 
 yourself, if you do not want to fall a victim to wickedness 
 and mischief. But ah, Elizabeth, even my tears I dare 
 shed only in secret, for a queen has no right to be melan- 
 choly. She must seem ever cheerful, ever happy and con- 
 tented; and only God and the still, silent night know her 
 sighs and her tears." 
 
 " And you may let me also see them, queen," said 
 Elizabeth, heartily; "for you well know you may trust 
 and rely on me." 
 
 Catharine kissed her fervently. "You have done me 
 a great service to-day, and I have come," said she, "to 
 thank you, not with sounding words only, but by deeds, 
 Elizabeth, your wish will be fulfilled. The king will re- 
 peal the law which was to compel you to give your hand 
 only to a husband of equal birth." 
 
 "Oh," cried Elizabeth, with flashing eyes, "then I 
 shall, perhaps, some day be able to make him whom I love 
 a king." 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 4(J5- 
 
 Catharine smiled. " You have a proud and ambitious 
 heart/' said she. " God has endowed you with extraor- 
 dinary ability. Cultivate it and seek to increase it; for 
 my prophetic heart tells me that you are destined to be- 
 come, one day, Queen of England.* But who knows 
 whether then you will still wish to elevate him whom you 
 now love, to be your husband? A queen, as you will be, 
 sees with other eyes than those of a young, inexperienced 
 maiden. Perchance I may not have done right in moving 
 the king to altar this law; for I am not acquainted with 
 the man that you love; and who knows whether he is- 
 worthy that you should bestow on him your heart, so inno- 
 cent and pure ? " 
 
 Elizabeth threw both her arms about Catharine's neck,, 
 and clung tenderly to her. " Oh," said she, " he would 
 be worthy to be loved even by you, Catharine; for he is. 
 the noblest and handsomest cavalier in the whole world;; 
 and though he is no king, yet he is a king's brother-in- 
 law, and will some day be a king's uncle." 
 
 Catharine felt her heart, as it were, convulsed, and a 
 slight tremor ran through her frame. " And am I not to= 
 learn his name ? " asked she. 
 
 " Yes, I will tell you it now; for now there is no- 
 longer danger in knowing it. The name of him whom I 
 love, queen, is Thomas Seymour." 
 
 Catharine uttered a scream, and pushed Elizabeth pas- 
 sionately away from her heart. " Thomas Seymour? "' 
 cried she, in a menacing tone. "What! do you dare love* 
 Thomas Seymour?" 
 
 " And why should I not dare ? " asked the young girl 
 in astonishment. " Why should I not give him my heart,, 
 since, thanks to your intercession, I am no longer bound to- 
 choose a husband of equal birth ? Is not Thomas Seymour 
 one of the first of this land? Does not all England look 
 on him with pride and tenderness? Does not every wom- 
 an to whom he deigns a look, feel herself honored? Does 
 
 * Catharine's own words. — See Leti, vol. i, p. 172. 
 
406 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 not the king himself smile and feel more pleased at heart, 
 when Thomas Seymour^ that young, bold, and spirited 
 hero, stands by his side ? " 
 
 " You are right! " said Catharine, whose heart every 
 •one of these enthusiastic words lacerated like the stab of a 
 •dagger — "yes, you are right. He is worthy of being 
 loved by you — and you could hit upon no better choice. 
 It was only the first surprise that made me see things 
 •otherwise than they are. Thomas Seymour is the brother 
 of a queen: why then should he not also be the husband 
 of a royal princess? " 
 
 With a bashful blush, Elizabeth hid her smiling face in 
 Catharine's bosom. She did not see with what an expres- 
 sion of alarm and agony the queen observed her; how her 
 lips were convulsively compressed, and her cheeks covered 
 with a death-like pallor. 
 
 " And he? " asked she, in a low tone. " Does Thomas 
 Seymour love you? " 
 
 Elizabeth raised her head and looked at the questioner 
 in amazement " How! " said she. " Is it possible, then, 
 to love, if you are not loved? " 
 
 "You are right," sighed Catharine. "One must be 
 very humble and silly to be able to do that." 
 
 " My God! how pale you are, queen! " cried Elizabeth, 
 who just now noticed Catharine's pale face. " Your fea- 
 tures are distorted; your lips tremble. My God! what 
 -does this mean?" 
 
 " It is nothing! " said Catharine, with a smile full of 
 agony. "The excitement and alarm of to-day have ex- 
 hausted my strength. That is all. Besides, a new grief 
 threatens us, of which you as yet know nothing. The 
 king is ill. A sudden dizziness seized him, and made him 
 fall almost lifeless at my side. I came to bring you the 
 king's message; now duty calls me to my husband's sick- 
 bed. Farewell, Elizabeth." 
 
 She waved a good-by to her with her hand, and with 
 hurried step left the room. She summoned up courage to 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 407 
 
 rconceal the agonies of her soul, and to pass proud and 
 .stately through the halls. To the courtiers bowing be- 
 fore her, she would still be the queen, and no one should 
 suspect what agony was torturing her within like flames 
 of fire. But at last arrived at her boudoir — at last sure 
 of being overheard and observed by no one — she was no 
 longer the queen, but only the agonized, passionate 
 woman. 
 
 She sank on her knees, and cried, with a heart-rending 
 wail of anguish: "My God, my God, grant that I may 
 become mad, so that I may no longer know that he has 
 iorsaken me!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE CATASTEOPHE. 
 
 Aftek days of secret torture and hidden tears, after 
 mights of sobbing anguish and wailing sorrow, Catharine 
 had at last attained to inward peace; she had at last taken 
 a firm and decisive resolution. 
 
 The king was sick unto death; and however much she 
 had suffered and endured from him, still he was her hus- 
 band; and she would not stand by his deathbed as a per- 
 jured and deceitful woman; she would not be constrained 
 to cast down her eyes before the failing gaze of the dying 
 king. She would renounce her love — that love, which, 
 however, had been as pure and chaste as a maiden's prayer 
 — that love, which was as unapproachably distant as the 
 T>lush of morn, and yet had stood above her so vast and 
 brilliant, and had irradiated the gloomy pathway of her 
 life with celestial light. 
 
 She would make the greatest of sacrifices; she would 
 give her lover to another. Elizabeth loved him. Catha- 
 rine would not investigate and thoroughly examine the 
 
408 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 point, whether Thomas Seymour returned her love, and 
 whether the oath he had taken to her, the queen, was 
 really nothing more than a fancy of the brain, or a false- 
 hood. No, she did not believe it; she did not believe that 
 Thomas Seymour was capable of treachery, of double-deal- 
 ing. But Elizabeth loved him; and she was young and 
 beautiful, and a great future lay before her. Catharine 
 loved Thomas Seymour strongly enough not to want to 
 deprive him of this future, but gladly to present herself 
 a sacrifice to the happiness of her lover. What was she 
 — the woman matured in grief and suffering — in com- 
 parison with this youthful and fresh blossom, Elizabeth? 
 What had she to offer her beloved further than a life of 
 retirement, of love, and of quiet happiness? When once 
 the king is dead and sets her free, Edward the Sixth 
 ascends the throne; and Catharine then is nothing more 
 than the forgotten and disregarded widow of a king; while 
 Elizabeth, the king's sister, may perhaps bring a crown as 
 her dower to him whom she loves. 
 
 Thomas Seymour was ambitious. Catharine knew 
 that. A day might come when he would repent of having 
 chosen the widow of a king instead of the heiress to a 
 throne. 
 
 Catharine would anticipate that day. She would of 
 her own free-will resign her lover to Princess Elizabeth. 
 She had by a struggle brought her mind to this sacrifice; 
 she had pressed her hands firmly on her heart, so as not 
 to hear how it wailed and wept. 
 
 She went to Elizabeth, and said to her with a sweet 
 smile: "To-day I will bring your lover to you, princess. 
 The king has fulfilled his promise. He has to-day with 
 his last dying strength signed this act, which gives you lib- 
 erty to choose your husband, not from the ranks of princes 
 alone, but to follow your own heart in your choice. I will 
 give this act to your lover, and assure him of my assist- 
 ance and aid. The king is suffering very much to-day,, 
 and his consciousness fails more and more. But be cer- 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 409 
 
 tain, if he is in a condition to hear me, I will spend all my 
 powers of persuasion in inclining him to your wish, and in 
 moving him to give his consent to your marriage with 
 Earl Sudley. I now go to receive the earl. So tarry in 
 your room, princess, for Seymour will soon come to bring 
 you the act." 
 
 Whilst she thus spoke, it seemed to her as though her 
 heart were pierced by red-hot daggers; as though a two- 
 edged sword were cleaving her breast. But Catharine 
 had a strong and courageous soul. She had sworn to her- 
 self to endure this torture to the end; and she endured it. 
 No writhing of her lips, no sigh, no outcry, betrayed the 
 pain that she was suffering. And if, indeed, her cheeks 
 were pale, and her eye dim, they were so because she had 
 spent nights watching by her husband's sick-bed, and be- 
 cause she was mourning for the dying king. 
 
 She had the heroism to embrace tenderly this young 
 maiden to whom she was just going to present her love as a 
 sacrifice, and to listen with a smile to the enthusiastic 
 words of gratitude, of rapture and expectant happiness 
 which Elizabeth addressed to her. 
 
 With tearless eyes and firm step she returned to her 
 own apartments; and her voice did not at all tremble, as 
 she bade the chamberlain in attendance to summon to her 
 the master of horse, Earl Sudley. Only she had a feeling 
 as though her heart was broken and crushed; and quite 
 softly, quite humbly, she whispered: " I shall die when he 
 is gone. But so long as he is here, I will live; and he shall 
 not have a suspicion of what I suffer! " 
 
 And while Catharine suffered so dreadfully, Elizabeth 
 was jubilant with delight and rapture; for at last she 
 stood at the goal of her wishes, and this very day she was 
 to become the betrothed of her lover. Oh, how slow and 
 sluggish crept those minutes along! How many eterni- 
 ties had she still to wait before he would come — he, her 
 lover, and soon her husband! Was he already with the 
 queen? Could she expect him already? She stood as if 
 27 
 
410 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT: 
 
 spellbound at the window, and looked down into the court- 
 yard. Through that great gateway over there he must; 
 come; through that door yonder he must go, in order to- 
 reach the queen's apartments. 
 
 She uttered an exclamation, and a glowing blush flitted! 
 across her face. There, there, he was. Yonder drew up* 
 his equipage; his gold-laced lackeys opened the door and 
 he alighted. How handsome he was, and how magnificent 
 to look upon! How noble and proud his tall figure! How 
 regularly beautiful his fresh, youthful face! How saucy 
 the haughty smile about his mouth; and how his eyes 
 flamed and flashed and shone in wantonness and youthful 
 happiness. His look glanced for a moment at Elizabeth's 
 window. He saluted her, and then entered the door 
 leading to the wing of the palace of Whitehall occu- 
 pied by the queen. Elizabeth's heart beat so violently 
 that she felt almost suffocated. Now he must have 
 reached the great staircase — now he was above it — now h& 
 was entering the queen's apartments — he traverses the 
 first, the second, the third chamber. In the fourth Catha- 
 rine was waiting for him. 
 
 Elizabeth would have given a year of her life to hear 
 what Catharine would say to him, and what reply he would 
 make to the surprising intelligence — a year of her life to 
 be able to see his rapture, his astonishment, and his de- 
 light. He was so handsome when he smiled, so bewitch- 
 ing when his eyes blazed with love and pleasure. 
 
 Elizabeth was a young, impulsive child. She had a 
 feeling as if she must suffocate in the agony of expectation; 
 her heart leaped into her mouth; her breath was stifled in 
 her breast, she was so impatient for happiness. 
 
 " Oh, if he does not come soon I shall die! " murmured 
 she. * Oh, if I could only at least see him, or only hear 
 him! " All at once she stopped; her eyes flashed up, and 
 a bewitching smile flitted across her features. "Yes," 
 said she, " I will see him, and I will hear him. I can do 
 it, and I will do it. I have the key which the queen gave 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. £H 
 
 me, and which, opens the door that separates my rooms 
 from hers. With that key I may reach her bed-chamber, 
 und next to the bed-chamber is her boudoir, in which, 
 without doubt, she will receive the earl. I will enter 
 quite softly, and, hiding myself behind the hanging which 
 separates the bed-chamber from the boudoir, I shall be 
 q,ble to see him, and hear everything that he says! " 
 
 She laughed out loud and merrily, like a child, and 
 sprang for the key, which lay on her writing-table. Like 
 a trophy of victory she swung it high above her on her 
 hand and cried, " I will see him! " Then light, joyful,, 
 and with beaming eye, she left the room. 
 
 She had conjectured rightly. Catharine received the- 
 earl in her boudoir. She sat on the divan standing oppo- 
 site the door which led into the reception-room. That 
 door was open, and so Catharine had a perfect view of the- 
 whole of that large space. She could see the earl as he 
 traversed it. She could once more enjoy, with a rapture 
 painfully sweet, his proud beauty, and let her looks rest, 
 on him with love and adoration. But at length he crossed 
 the threshold of the boudoir; and now there was an end of 
 her happiness, of her sweet dream, and of her hopes and 
 her rapture. She was nothing more than the queen, the- 
 wife of a dying king; no longer Earl Seymour's beloved, 
 no longer his future and his happiness. 
 
 She had courage to greet him with a smile; and her 
 voice did not tremble when she bade him shut the door 
 leading into the hall, and drop the hanging. He did so, 
 gazing at her with looks of surprise. He did not compre- 
 hend that she dared give him an interview; for the king 
 was still alive, and even with his tongue faltering in death 
 he might destroy them both. 
 
 Why did she not wait till the morrow? On the mor- 
 row the king might be already dead; and then they could 
 see each other without constraint and without danger. 
 Then was she his, and naught could longer stand in the 
 way between them and happiness. Now, when the king- 
 
412 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 was near his death. — now he loved her only — he loved but 
 Catharine. His ambition had decided his heart. Death 
 had become the judge over Seymour's double affection 
 and divided heart, and with King Henry's death Eliza- 
 beth's star had also paled. 
 
 Catharine was the widow of a king; and without doubt 
 this tender husband had appointed his young and adored 
 wife Eegent during the minority of the Prince of Wales. 
 Catharine then would have still five years of unlimited 
 sway, of royal authority and sovereign power. If Catha- 
 rine were his wife, then would he, Thomas Seymour, share 
 this power; and the purple robes of royalty, which rested 
 on her shoulders, would cover him also; and he would help 
 her bear that crown which doubtless might sometimes 
 press heavily on her tender brow. He would, in reality, 
 be the regent, and Catharine would be so only in name. 
 She, the Queen of England, and he, king of this queen. 
 What a proud, intoxicating thought was that! And what 
 plans, what hopes might not be twined with it! Five 
 years of sway — was not that a time long enough to under- 
 mine the throne of the royal boy and to sap his authority? 
 Who could conjecture whether the people, once accustomed 
 to the regency of the queen, might not prefer to remain 
 under her sceptre, instead of committing themselves to 
 this feeble youth? The people must be constrained so to 
 think, and to make Catharine, Thomas Seymour's wife, 
 their reigning queen. 
 
 The king was sick unto death, and Catharine was, 
 without doubt, the regent — perchance some day the sover- 
 eign queen. 
 
 Princess Elizabeth was only a poor princess, entirely 
 without a prospect of the throne; for before her came 
 Catharine, came Edward, and finally Mary, Elizabeth's eld- 
 est sister. Elizabeth had not the least prospect of the 
 throne, and Catharine the nearest and best founded. 
 
 Thomas Seymour pondered this as he traversed the 
 apartments of the queen; and when he entered her pres- 
 
HENEY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 413 
 
 ence, lie had convinced himself that he loved the queen 
 only, and that it was she alone whom he had always loved. 
 
 Elizabeth was forgotten and despised. She had no 
 prospect of the throne — why, then, should he love her? 
 
 The queen, as we have said, ordered him to shut the 
 door of the boudoir and to drop the hanging. At the same 
 moment that he did this, the hanging of the opposite door, 
 leading into the sleeping apartment, moved — perhaps^ only 
 the draught of the closing door had done it. Neither the 
 queen nor Seymour noticed it. They were both too much 
 occupied with themselves. They saw not how the hang- 
 ing again and again gently shook and trembled. They 
 saw not how it was gently opened a little in the middle; 
 nor did they see the sparkling eyes which suddenly peeped 
 through the opening in the hanging; nor suspected they 
 that it was the Princess Elizabeth who had stepped behind 
 the curtain, the better to see and hear what was taking 
 place in the boudoir. 
 
 The queen had arisen and advanced a few steps to meet 
 the earl. As she now stood before him — as their eyes met, 
 she felt her courage sink and her heart fail. 
 
 She was compelled to look down at the floor to prevent 
 him from seeing the tears which involuntarily came into 
 her eyes. With a silent salutation she offered him her 
 hand. Thomas Seymour pressed it impulsively to his lips, 
 and looked with passionate tenderness into her face. She 
 struggled to collect all her strength, that her heart might 
 not betray itself. With a hurried movement she with- 
 drew her hand from him, and took from the table a roll 
 of paper containing the new act of succession signed by 
 the king. 
 
 "My lord/' said she, "I have called you hither, be- 
 cause I would like to intrust a commission to you. I beg 
 you to carry this parchment to the Princess Elizabeth, and 
 be pleased to deliver it to her. But before you do that, I 
 will make you acquainted with its contents. This parch- 
 ment contains a new law relative to the succession, which 
 
414 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 has already received the sanction of the king. By virtue 
 of this, the royal princesses are no longer under the neces- 
 sity of uniting themselves with a husband who is a sover- 
 eign prince, if they wish to preserve their hereditary claim 
 on the throne unimpaired. The king gives the princesses 
 the right to follow their own hearts; and their claim to the 
 succession is not to suffer thereby, if the husband chosen 
 is neither a king nor a prince. That, my lord, is the con- 
 tents of this parchment which you are to carry to the 
 princess, and without doubt you will thank me for making 
 you the messenger of these glad tidings." 
 
 "And why," asked he, in astonishment — "why does 
 your majesty believe that this intelligence should fill me 
 with special thankfulness?" 
 
 She collected all her powers; she prayed to her own 
 heart for strength and self-control. 
 
 " Because the princess has made me the confidante of 
 her love, and because I am consequently aware of the ten- 
 der tie which binds you to her," said she, gently; and she 
 felt that all the blood had fled from her cheeks. 
 
 The earl looked into her face in mute astonishment. 
 Then his inquiring and searching glance swept all around 
 the room. 
 
 " We are overheard, then? " asked he, in a low voice. 
 "We are not alone?" 
 
 " We are alone," said Catharine, aloud. " Nobody can 
 hear us, and God alone is witness of our conversation." 
 
 Elizabeth, who stood behind the hanging, felt her 
 cheeks glow with shame, and she began to repent what she 
 had done. But she was nevertheless, as it were, spell- 
 bound to that spot. It was certainly mean and unworthy 
 of a princess to eavesdrop, but she was at that time but a 
 young girl who loved, and who wanted to observe her lover. 
 So she stayed; she laid her hand on her anxiously-throb- 
 bing heart, and murmured to herself: " What will he say? 
 What means this anxious dread that comes over me? " 
 
 "Well," said Thomas Seymour, in an entirely altered 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 415 
 
 tone, " if we are alone, then this mask which hides my face 
 may fall; then the cuirass which binds my heart may be 
 loosened. Hail, Catharine, my star and my hope ! No one, 
 you say, hears us, save God alone; and God knows our love, 
 and He knows with what longing, and what ecstasy, I have 
 sighed for this hour — for this hour, which at length again 
 unites me to you. My God, it is an eternity since I have 
 seen you, Catharine; and my heart thirsted for you as a 
 famishing man for a refreshing draught. Catharine, my 
 beloved, blessed be you, that you have at last called me to 
 you!" 
 
 He opened his arms for her, but she repulsed him 
 sharply. " You are mistaken in the name, earl/' said she, 
 bitterly. "You say Catharine, and mean Elizabeth! It 
 is the princess that you love; to Elizabeth belongs your 
 heart, and she has devoted her heart to you. Oh, earl, I 
 will favor this love, and be certain I will not cease from 
 prayer and supplication till I have inclined the king to 
 your wishes, till he has given his consent to your marriage 
 with the Princess Elizabeth." 
 
 Thomas Seymour laughed. " This is a masquerade, 
 Catharine; and you still wear a mask over your beautiful 
 and charming face. Oh, away with that mask, queen! I 
 want to behold you as you are. I want to see again your 
 own beautiful self; I want to see the woman who belongs 
 to me, and who has sworn to be mine, and who has, with a 
 thousand sacred oaths, vowed to love me, to be true to me, 
 and to follow me as her husband and her lord. Or how, 
 Catharine! Can you have forgotten your oath? Can you 
 have become untrue to your own heart? Do you want to 
 cast me away, and throw me, like a ball of which you are 
 tired, to another? " 
 
 " Oh," said she, quite unconsciously, " I — I can never 
 forget and never be untrue." 
 
 "Well, then, my Catharine, the bride and wife of my 
 future, what then are you speaking to me of Elizabeth? — 
 of this little princess, who sighs for love as the flower-bud 
 
416 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 for the sun, and takes the first man whom she finds in her 
 way for the sun after which she pines? What care we for 
 Elizabeth, my Catharine? And what have we to do with 
 that child in this hour of long-wished-for reunion? " 
 
 " Oh, he calls me a child! " murmured Elizabeth. " I 
 am nothing but a child to him!" And she pressed her 
 hands on her mouth in order to repress her cry of anger 
 and anguish, and to prevent them from hearing her teeth, 
 which were chattering as though she were in a chill. 
 
 With irresistible force Thomas Seymour drew Catha- 
 rine into his arms. "Avoid me no longer," said he, in 
 tender entreaty. " The hour has come which is finally to 
 determine our destiny! The king is at the point of death, 
 and my Catharine will at length be free — free to follow 
 her own heart. At this hour I remind you of your oath! 
 Do you remember still that day when you referred me to 
 this hour? Do you still know, Catharine, how you vowed 
 to be my wife and to receive me as the lord of your future? 
 Oh, my beloved, that crown which weighed down your 
 head will soon be taken away. Now I yet stand before 
 you as your subject, but in a few hours it will be your 
 lord and your husband that stands before you; and he will 
 ask: ( Catharine, my wife, have you kept with me the faith 
 you swore to me? Have you been guiltless of perjury in 
 respect of your vows and your love? Have you preserved 
 my honor, which is your honor also, clear from every spot; 
 and can you, free from guilt, look me in the eye ? ' " 
 
 He gazed at her with proud, flashing eyes, and before 
 his commanding look her firmness and her pride melted 
 away like ice before the sunshine. Again he was the mas- 
 ter, whose right it was to rule her heart; and she again the 
 lowly handmaid, whose sweetest happiness it was to submit 
 and bow to the will of her lover. 
 
 "I can look you frankly in the eye," murmured she, 
 "and no guilt burdens my conscience. I have loved 
 naught but you, and my God only dwells near you in my 
 heart." 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 417 
 
 Wholly overcome, wholly intoxicated with happiness, 
 she leaned her head npon his shoulder, and as he clasped 
 her in his arms, as he covered with kisses her now unre- 
 sisting lips, she felt only that she loved him unutterably, 
 and that there was no happiness for her except with 
 him. 
 
 It was a sweet dream, a moment of most exquisite 
 ecstasy. But it was only a moment. A hand was laid vio- 
 lently on her shoulder, a hoarse angry voice called her 
 name; and as she looked up, she encountered the wild 
 glance of Elizabeth, who stood before her with deathly pale 
 cheeks, with trembling lips, with expanded nostrils, and 
 eyes darting flashes of wrath and hatred. 
 
 " This, then, is the friendly service which you swore to 
 me?" said she, gnashing her teeth. "Did you steal into 
 my confidence, and with scoffing mouth spy out the secrets 
 of my heart, in order to go away and betray them to your 
 paramour? That you might in his arms ridicule this piti- 
 able maiden, who allowed herself for the moment to be 
 betrayed by her heart, and took a felon for an honorable 
 man! Woe, woe to you, Catharine, for I tell you I will 
 have no compassion on the adulteress, who mocks at me. 
 and betrays my father! " 
 
 She was raving; completely beside herself with anger, 
 she dashed away the hand which Catharine laid on her 
 shoulder, and sprang back from the touch of her enemy 
 like an irritated lioness. 
 
 Her father's blood fumed and raged within her, and, a 
 true daughter of Henry the Eighth, she concealed in her 
 heart only bloodthirsty and revengeful thoughts. 
 
 She cast on Thomas Seymour a look of dark wrath, and 
 a contemptuous smile played about her lips. " My lord," 
 said she, * you have called me a child who allows herself to 
 be easily deceived, because she longs so much for the 
 sun and for happiness. You are right: I was a child; and 
 I was foolish enough to take a miserable liar for a noble- 
 man, who was worthy of the proud fortune of being loved 
 
418 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 by a king's daughter. Yes, you are right; that was a 
 childish dream. Thanks to you, I have now awoke from 
 it; and you have matured the child into a woman, who 
 laughs at the folly of her youth, and despises to-day what 
 she adored yesterday. I have nothing to do with you; 
 and you are even too insignificant and too contemptible 
 for my anger. But I tell you, you have played a hazard- 
 ous game, and you will lose. You courted a queen and a 
 princess, and you will gain neither of them: not the one, 
 for she despises you; not the other, for she ascends the 
 scaffold! " 
 
 With a wild laugh she was hurrying to the door, but 
 Catharine with a strong hand held her back and compelled 
 her to remain. " What are you going to do? " asked she, 
 with perfect calmness and composure. 
 
 "What am I going to do?" asked Elizabeth, her eyes 
 flashing like those of a lioness. " You ask me what I will 
 do? I will go to my father, and tell him what I have here 
 witnessed! He will listen to me; and his tongue will still 
 have strength enough to pronounce your sentence of 
 death! Oh, my mother died on the scaffold, and yet she 
 was innocent. We will see, forsooth, whether you will 
 escape the scaffold — you, who are guilty! " 
 
 " Well, then, go to your father," said Catharine; " go 
 and accuse me. But first you shall hear me. This man 
 whom I loved, I wanted to renounce, in order to give him 
 to you. By the confession of your love, you had crushed 
 my happiness and my future. But I was not angry with 
 you. I understood you heart, for Thomas Seymour is 
 worthy of being loved. But you are right; for the king's 
 wife it was a sinful love, however innocent and pure I 
 may have been. On that account I wanted to renounce it; 
 on that account I wanted, on the first confession from you, 
 to silently sacrifice myself. You yourself have now made 
 it an impossibility. Go, then, and accuse us to your fa- 
 ther, and fear not that I will belie my heart. Now, that 
 the crisis has come, it shall find me prepared; and on the 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 419 
 
 scaffold I will still account myself blest, for Thomas Sey- 
 mour loves me ! " 
 
 "Ay, he loves you, Catharine!" cried he, completely 
 overcome and enchanted by her noble, majestic bearing. 
 " He loves you so warmly and ardently, that death with 
 you seems to him an enviable lot; and he would not ex- 
 change it for any throne nor for any crown." 
 
 And as he thus spoke, he put his arms around Catha- 
 rine's neck, and impetuously drew her to his heart. 
 
 Elizabeth uttered a fierce scream, and sprang to the 
 door. But what noise was that which all at once drew 
 nigh; which suddenly, like a wild billow, came 'roaring on, 
 and filled the anterooms and the halls? What were these 
 affrighted, shrieking voices calling? What were they 
 screaming to the queen, and the physicians, and the 
 priest? 
 
 Elizabeth stopped amazed, and listened. Thomas Sey- 
 mour and Catharine, arm linked in arm, stood near her. 
 They scarcely heard what was taking place; they looked 
 at each other and smiled, and dreamed of love and death 
 and an eternity of happiness. 
 
 Now the door flew open; there was seen John Hey- 
 wood's pale face; there were the maids of honor and the 
 court officials. And all shrieked and all wailed: " The 
 king is dying! He is struck with apoplexy! The king is 
 at the point of death! " 
 
 " The king calls you! The king desires to die in the 
 arms of his wife ! " said John Heywood, and, as he quietly 
 pushed Elizabeth aside and away from the door as she was 
 pressing violently forward, he added: "The king will see 
 nobody but his wife and the priest; and he has authorized 
 me to call the queen! " 
 
 He opened the door; and through the lines of weeping 
 and wailing court officials and servants, Catharine moved 
 on, to go to the death-bed of her royal husband. 
 
420 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVII. 
 
 "LE KOI EST MORT — VIVE LA HEINE ! " 
 
 King Henry lay a-dying. That life full of sin, full of 
 "blood and crime, full of treachery and cunning, full of 
 hypocrisy and sanctimonious cruelty — that life was at last 
 lived out. That hand, which had signed so many death- 
 warrants, was now clutched in the throes of death. It had 
 stiffened at the very moment when the king was going 
 to sign the Duke of Norfolk's death-warrant.* And the 
 king was dying with the gnawing consciousness that he 
 had no longer the power to throttle that enemy whom he 
 hated. The mighty king was now nothing more than a 
 feeble, dying old man, who was no longer able to hold the 
 pen and sign this death-warrant for which he had so long 
 hankered and hoped. Now it lay before him, and he no 
 longer had the power to use it. God, in His wisdom and 
 His justice, had decreed against him the most grievous 
 and horrible of punishments; He had left him his con- 
 sciousness; He had not crippled him in mind, but in body 
 only. And that motionless and rigid mass which, growing 
 chill in death, lay there on the couch of purple trimmed 
 with gold — that was the king — a king whom agony of con- 
 science did not permit to die, and who now shuddered and 
 was horrified in view of death, to which he had, with 
 relentless cruelty, hunted so many of his subjects. 
 
 Catharine and the Archbishop of Canterbury, the noble 
 Cranmer, stood at his bedside: and whilst in convulsive 
 agony he grasped Catharine's hands, he listened to the 
 devout prayers which Cranmer was saying over him. 
 
 Once he asked with mumbling tongue: "My lord, 
 what kind of a world then is that where those who con- 
 demn others to die, are condemned to die themselves? " f 
 And as the pious Cranmer, touched by the agonies and tor- 
 tures of conscience which he read in the king's looks, and 
 
 * Historical. f The king's own words.— Leti, vol. i, p. 16. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. . 421 
 
 full of pity for the dying tyrant, sought to comfort him,, 
 and spoke to him of the mercy of God which has compas- 
 sion on every sinner, the king groaned out: " No, no! No 
 mercy for him who knew no mercy! " 
 
 At length this awful struggle of death with life was 
 ended; and death had vanquished life. The king had, 
 closed his eyes to earth, to open them again there above,. 
 as a guilt-laden sinner in the presence of God. 
 
 For three days his death was kept a secret. They 
 wanted first to have everything arranged, and to fill up 
 the void which his death must make. They wanted, when 
 they spoke to the people of the dead king, to show them 
 also at the same time the living king. And since they 
 knew that the people would not weep for the dead, they 
 were to rejoice for the living; since they would sing no 
 funeral psalms, they were to let their hymns of joy 
 resound. 
 
 On the third day the gates of Whitehall were thrown 
 open, and a gloomy funeral train moved through the 
 streets of London. In dead silence the populace saw 
 borne past them the coffin of the king, before whom they 
 had trembled so much, and for whom they now had not a 
 word of mourning or of pity — no tears for the dead who 
 for seven-and-thirty years had been their king. 
 
 They were bearing the coffin to Westminster Abbey to 
 the splendid monument which Wolsey had built there for 
 his royal master. But the way was long, and the panting 
 horses with black housings, which drew the hearse, had 
 often to stop and rest. And all of a sudden, as the car- 
 riage stood still on one of the large open squares, blood 
 was seen to issue from the king's coffin. It streamed down 
 in crimson currents and flowed over the stones of the 
 streets. The people with a shudder stood around and saw 
 the king's blood flowing, and thought how much blood he- 
 had spilt on that same spot, for the coffin was standing on 
 the square where the executions were wont to take place, 
 and where the scaffolds were erected and the stakes set. 
 
422 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 As the people stood gazing at the blood which flowed 
 from the king's coffin, two dogs sprang forth from the 
 crowd and, with greedy tongue, licked the blood of King 
 Henry the Eighth. But the people, shuddering and hor- 
 ror-stricken, fled in all directions, and talked among them- 
 selves of the poor priest who a few weeks before was exe- 
 cuted here on this very spot, because he would not recog- 
 nize the king as the supreme lord of the Church and God's 
 vicegerent; of that unfortunate man who cursed the 
 king, and on the scaffold said: "May the dogs one day 
 drink the blood of this king who has shed so much inno- 
 cent blood! " And now the curse of the dying man had 
 found its fulfilment, and the dogs had drunk the king's 
 blood.* 
 
 When the gloomy funeral train had left the palace of 
 Whitehall, when the king's corpse no longer infected the 
 halls with its awful stench of corruption, and the court 
 was preparing to do homage to the boy Edward as the new 
 king, Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sudley, entered the room 
 of the young royal widow. He came in a magnificent 
 mourning suit, and his elder brother, Edward Seymour, 
 and Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, walked by his 
 side. 
 
 With a blush and a sweet smile, Catharine bade them 
 welcome. 
 
 " Queen," said Thomas Seymour with solemn air, " I 
 come to-day to claim of you the fulfilment of your vow! 
 Oh, do not cast down your eyes, nor blush for shame. The 
 noble archbishop knows your heart, and he knows that it is 
 as pure as the heart of a maiden, and that an unchaste 
 thought has never sullied your pure soul. And my 
 hrother would not be here, had he not faith in and respect 
 for a love which has preserved itself so faithful and con- 
 stant amidst storms and dangers. I have selected these 
 two noble friends as my suitors, and in their presence I 
 will ask you: ' Queen Catharine, the king is dead, and no 
 
 * Historical.— See Tytler, p. 481. 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COUET. 423 
 
 fetters longer bind your heart; will yon not give it me as 
 my own? Will you accept me as your husband, and sacri- 
 fice for me your royal title and your exalted position? ' " 
 
 With a bewitching smile she gave him her hand. 
 " You well know," whispered she, " that I sacrifice nothing 
 for you, but receive from you all of happiness and love that 
 I hope for." 
 
 " Will you then, in the presence of these two friends, 
 accept me as your future husband, and plight me your vow 
 of truth and love ? " 
 
 Catharine trembled and cast down her eyes with the 
 bashfulness of a young girl. "Alas!" whispered she, 
 " do you not then see my mourning dress? Is it becoming 
 to think of happiness, while the funeral lamentations have 
 scarcely died away? " 
 
 " Queen Catharine," said Archbishop Cranmer, " let 
 the dead bury their dead! Life also has its rights; and 
 man should not give up his claim on happiness, for it is a 
 most holy possession. You have endured much and suf- 
 fered much, queen, but your heart is pure and without 
 guilt; therefore you may now, with a clear conscience, 
 bid welcome to happiness also. Do not delay about it. In 
 God's name I have come to bless your love, and give to 
 your happiness a holy consecration." 
 
 " And I," said Edward Seymour, " I have begged of my 
 brother the honor of being allowed to accompany him in 
 order to say to your majesty that I know how to duly 
 appreciate the high honor which you show our family, and 
 that, as your brother-in-law, I shall ever be mindful that 
 you were once my queen and I your subject." 
 
 " But I," cried Thomas Seymour, " I would not delay 
 coming to you, in order that I might show you that love 
 only brings me to you, and that no other consideration 
 could induce me. The king's will is not yet opened, and I 
 know not its contents. But however it may determine 
 with respect to all of us, it cannot diminish or increase my 
 happiness in possessing you. Whatever you may be, you 
 
424: HENKY VIII. AND HIS COUKT. 
 
 will ever be to me only the adored woman, the ardently 
 loved wife; and only to assure you of this, I have come 
 this very day." 
 
 Catharine extended her hand to him with a bewitching 
 smile. " I have never doubted of you, Seymour," whis- 
 pered she, " and never did I love you more ardently than 
 when I wanted to renounce you." 
 
 She bowed her head on her lover's shoulder, and tears 
 of purest joy bedewed her cheeks. The Archbishop of 
 Canterbury joined their hands, and blessed them as be- 
 trothed lovers; and the elder Seymour, Earl Hertford, 
 bowed and greeted them as a betrothed couple. 
 
 On that very same day the king's will was opened. In 
 the large gilded hall, in which King Henry's merry laugh- 
 ter and thundering voice of wrath had so often resounded, 
 were now read his last commands. The whole court was 
 assembled, as it was wont to be for a joyous festival; and 
 Catharine once more sat on the royal throne. But the 
 dreaded tyrant, the bloodthirsty King Henry the Eighth, 
 was no longer at her side; but the poor pale boy, Edward, 
 who had inherited from his father neither energy nor 
 genius, but only his thirst for blood and his canting hypoc- 
 risy. At his side stood his sisters, the Princesses Mary 
 and Elizabeth. Both were pale and of a sad countenance; 
 but with both, it was not for their father that they were 
 grieving. 
 
 Mary, the bigoted Roman Catholic, saw with horror 
 and bitter anguish the days of adversity which were 
 about to befall her church; for Edward was a fanatical 
 opponent of the Eoman Catholic religion, and she knew 
 that he would shed the blood of the papists with relentless 
 cruelty. On this account it was that she mourned. 
 
 But Elizabeth, that young girl of ardent heart — she 
 thought neither of her father nor of the dangers threaten- 
 ing the Church; she thought only of her love, she felt 
 only that she had been deprived of a hope, of an illusion — 
 that she had awoke from a sweet and enchanting dream to 
 
HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 425 
 
 the rude and barren reality. She had given up her first 
 love, but her heart bled and the wound still smarted. 
 
 The will was read. Elizabeth looked toward Thomas 
 Seymour during this solemn and portentous reading. She 
 wanted to read in his countenance the impression made on 
 him by these grave words, so pregnant with the future; 
 she wanted to search the depths of his soul, and to pene- 
 trate the secret thoughts of his heart. She saw how he 
 turned pale when, not Queen Catharine, but his brother, 
 Earl Hertford, was appointed regent during Edward's 
 minority; she saw the sinister, almost angry look which he 
 threw at the queen; and with a cruel smile she murmured: 
 "I am revenged! He loves her no longer!" 
 
 John Heywood, who was standing behind the queen's 
 throne, had also observed the look of Thomas Seymour, yet 
 not like Elizabeth, with a rejoicing, but with a sorrowful 
 heart, and he dropped his head upon his breast and mur- 
 mured: " Poor Catharine! He will hate her, and she will 
 be very unhappy." 
 
 But she was still happy. Her eye beamed with pure 
 delight when she perceived that her lover was, by the 
 king's will, appointed High Admiral of England and 
 guardian of the young king. She thought not of herself, 
 but only of him, of her lover; and it filled her with the 
 proudest satisfaction to see him invested with places of 
 such high honor and dignity. 
 
 Poor Catharine! Her eye did not see the sullen cloud 
 which still rested on the brow of her beloved. She was 
 so happy and so innocent, and so little ambitious! For her 
 this only was happiness, to be her lover's, to be the wife of 
 Thomas Seymour. 
 
 And this happiness was to be hers. Thirty days after 
 the death of King Henry the Eighth she became the wife 
 of the high admiral, Thomas Seymour, Earl of Sudley. 
 Archbishop Cranmer solemnized their union in the chapel 
 at Whitehall, and the lord protector, now Duke of Somer- 
 set, formerly Earl of Hertford, the brother of Thomas Sey- 
 
426 HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 mour, was the witness of this marriage, which was, how- 
 ever, still kept a secret, and of which there were to be no 
 other witnesses. When, however, they resorted to the 
 chapel for the marriage, Princess Elizabeth came forward- 
 to meet the queen, and offered her hand. 
 
 It was the first time they had met since the dreadful 
 day on which they confronted each other as enemies — 
 the first time that they had again seen each other eye- 
 to eye. 
 
 Elizabeth had wrung this sacrifice from her heart.. 
 Her proud soul revolted at the thought that Thomas Sey- 
 mour might imagine that she was still grieving for him,, 
 that she still loved him. She would show him that her 
 heart was entirely recovered from that first dream of her 
 youth — that she had not the least regret or pain. 
 
 She accosted him with a haughty, cold smile, and pre- 
 sented Catharine her hand. " Queen," said she, " you 
 have so long been a kind and faithful mother to me, that I 
 may well once more claim the right of being your daugh- 
 ter. Let me, therefore, as your daughter, be present at 
 the solemn transaction in which you are about to engage* 
 and allow me to stand at your side and pray for you, whilst 
 the archbishop performs the sacred service, and trans- 
 forms the queen into the Countess of Sudley. May God! 
 bless you, Catharine, and give you all the happiness that 
 you deserve! " 
 
 And Princess Elizabeth knelt at Catharine's side, as= 
 the archbishop blest this new marriage tie. And while she 
 prayed her eye again glided over toward Thomas Seymour, 
 who was standing there by his young wife. Catharine's 
 countenance beamed with beauty and happiness, but upon 
 Thomas Seymour's brow still lay the cloud that had settled 
 there on that day when the king's will was opened — that 
 will which did not make Queen Catharine regent, and' 
 which thereby destroyed Thomas Seymour's proud and! 
 ambitious schemes. 
 
 And that cloud remained on Thomas Seymour's brow~ 
 
HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 427 
 
 It sank down lower and still lower. It soon overshadowed 
 the happiness of Catharine's love, and awakened her from 
 her short dream of bliss. 
 
 What she suffered, how much of secret agony and si- 
 lent woe she endured, who can wish to know or conjecture? 
 Catharine had a proud and a chaste soul. She concealed 
 from the world her pain and her grief, as bashfully as she 
 had once done her love. Nobody suspected what she suf- 
 fered and how she struggled with her crushed heart. 
 
 She never complained; she saw bloom after bloom fall 
 from her life; she saw the smile disappear from her hus- 
 band's countenance; she heard his voice, at first so tender, 
 gradually harden to harsher tones; she felt his heart grow- 
 ing colder and colder, and his love changing into indiffer- 
 ence, perhaps even into hate. 
 
 She had devoted her whole heart to love, but she felt 
 day by day, and hour by hour, that her husband's heart 
 was cooling more and more. She felt, with dreadful 
 heartrending certainty, she was his with all her love. 
 But he was no longer hers. 
 
 And she tormented her heart to find out why he no 
 longer loved her — what she had been guilty of, that he 
 turned away from her. Seymour had not the delicacy and 
 magnanimity to conceal from her his inward thoughts; 
 and at last she comprehended why he neglected her. 
 
 He had hoped that Catharine would be Eegent of Eng- 
 land, that he then would be consort of the regent. Be- 
 cause it had not hapened so, his love had died. 
 
 Catharine felt this, and she died of it. But not sud- 
 denly, not at once, did death release her from her sorrows 
 and racking tortures. Six months she had to surfer and 
 struggle with them. After six months she died. 
 
 Strange rumors were spread at her death; and John 
 Heywood never passed by Earl Seymour without gazing at 
 him with an angry look, and saying: "You have mur- 
 dered the beautiful queen! Deny it, if you can! " 
 
 Thomas Seymour laughed, and did not consider it 
 
428 HENKY VIII. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 worth his while to defend himself against the accusations 
 •of the fool. He laughed, notwithstanding he had not yet 
 put off the mourning he wore for Catharine. 
 
 In these mourning garments he ventured to approach 
 the Princess Elizabeth, to swear to her his ardent love, 
 and sue for her hand. But Elizabeth repelled him with 
 coldness and haughty contempt; and, like the fool, the 
 princess also said: "You have murdered Catharine! I 
 cannot be the wife of a murderer! " 
 
 And God's justice punished the murderer of the inno- 
 cent and noble Catharine; and scarcely three months after 
 the death of his wife, the high admiral had to ascend 'the 
 .scaffold, and was executed as a traitor. 
 
 By Catharine's wish, her books and papers were given 
 to her true friend John Heywood, and he undertook with 
 the greatest care an examination of the same. He found 
 among her papers many leaves written by herself, many 
 verses and poems, which breathed forth the sorrowfulness 
 of her spirit. Catharine herself had collected them into a 
 book, and with her own hand she had given to the book 
 this title: "Lamentations of a 8 inner/' 
 
 Catharine had wept much as she penned these " Lam- 
 entations "; for in many places the manuscript was illegi- 
 ble, and her tears had obliterated the characters. 
 
 John Heywood kissed the spots where the traces of her 
 tears remained, and whispered: "The sinner has by her 
 suffering been glorified into a saint; and these poems are 
 the cross and the monument which she has prepared for 
 her own grave. I will set up this cross, that the good may 
 take comfort, and the wicked flee from it." And he did 
 so. He had the "Lamentations of a Sinner" printed; 
 jand this book was the fairest monument of Catharine. 
 
 (40) 
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