Henry VIII and his court : or Catharine Parr : an historical novel

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Irving Lindhahr

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HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT
OR, CATHARINE PARR

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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

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<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 .... 0 .. 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 j7ou 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 A7ith 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, 0 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, 0 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 your
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 hev 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
Twretched 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 whichr
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.

0 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 lightf
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 itr
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, 0 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 usr
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-day1 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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