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Porro perbelle dissimulatum
Illum Pandulphum tantum legatum
Tam formidatum nuper prelatum
Naman Syrum nunc longatum
In solitudine jam commoratum
Neapolitano morbo gravatum
Malagmate, cataplasmati statum
Pharmacopolæ ferro foratum. &c.*

It may be said indeed, that this piece of Skelton's is a virulent satire; but let his lines be coloured never so strongly, it is ridiculous to suppose he should say the cardinal had but one eye if he had both; and therefore I must insist, that though he should be mistaken as to the cause of the blemish, yet we must believe, that by one means or other his eminence was really deprived of the sight of one of his eyes. But I cannot imagine the poet was mistaken as to the cause; for

Fourthly, his testimony is very full for the cardinal's being infected with this distemper, and that it occasioned the loss of his eye. So, p. 174.

This Naaman Syrus

So fel and so irous
So ful of melancoly
With a flap before his eye
Men wene that he is pocky
Or els his surgions they lye.
For as far as they can spy
By the craft of surgery
It is manus Domini.

So again, p. 175.

He is now so overthwart
And so pained with panges
That all his trust hanges
In Balthosor which healed

Domingo's nose

Balthosor that healed Domingo's pose

From the puskilde pocky pose

Now with his gummes of Araby

Hath promised to hele our Cardinal's eie

Yet some surgions put a dout

Lest he will put it clean out.

* There are many faults in these lines of Skelton, but I do not think it proper to stay to correct them here.

For Domingo's pose we must read Domingo's nose, and it is very evident from the seat of Domingo Lomelyn's distemper, whom Balthasor had cured, that this last was a doctor at that time famous for the cure of the pox. The cardinal's friends may call this piece of Skelton's all calumny and slander if they please; but more impartial judges will think the cardinal's case notorious, since he was so openly taxed with it, not only by this poet, but in repeated acts of the privy council.

The conclusion is, that this charge, as well as several others, was true, but being nothing to the purpose, the house passed it over, upon the representations of Mr. Cromwell, who no doubt could easily give the house satisfaction on such a futile accusation as this.

Yours, &c.

PAUL GEMSEGE.

1755, August,

V. Case of CHARLES BRANDON, Duke of SUFFOLK. An obscure passage in History illustrated.

AT the close of the proceedings at Black Friars, in the cause of the divorce of king Henry VIII. from his queen Catharine of Arragon, it was expected that the two legates, Campeius and Wolsey, would have passed a definitive sentence; but instead of that, Campeius, who was speaker on the occasion, declared, to the disappointment of all the king's friends, that they could not finally determine the suit without acquainting the pope, and that it being vacation time in the court of Rome, by authority of which their eminencies sat, the court here must be adjourned from that day, which was the 23d of July, to the 1st of October, and accordingly he did so adjourn it.

The king was then present either in, as Shakespeare has it, or rather near the court, as say other authors, and being highly exasperated by these delays, the duke of Suffolk, at his highness's commandment, for so we read in Cavendish,† stept up, and with a haughty countenance uttered these words, 66 It was never thus in England until we had cardinals amongst us; which words were set forth (as the author observes) with such vehemency, that all men maṛ

* See his Henry VIII.

+ Cavendish's Life of Wolsey.

velled what he intended, the duke further expressing some opprobrious words." Campeius being a foreigner, it is probable, understood little of what was said, and therefore was not likely to make the duke any reply; but Wolsey, who neither wanted spirit nor words on any occasion, answered him, by saying with great sedateness, "Sir, of all men in this realm you have least cause to dispraise cardinals, for if I poor cardinal had not been, you should not at this present have had a head upon your shoulders, wherewith to make such a brag in despite of us, who wish you no harm. Speak not reproachfully of your friends; you best know what friendship I have shewn you; I never did reveal (it) to any person till now, either to mine own praise, or your dishonour." Whereupon the duke went his way, and said no more, being much discontented.

It is very plain the duke was stung, being conscious of the truth of what Wolsey alleged; but the question is, What it was that the cardinal alluded to; when, and upon what occasion he had saved the duke's life? Dr. Fiddes, who has written this cardinal's life, when he comes to this passage, professes himself ignorant of his meaning; his words are, 66 But that the charge itself had some foundation, though the fact upon which it is founded is still unknown, &c.** And yet, I think it is not difficult to unriddle it; however, for the clearer apprehension of the matter, we must take things a little higher.

Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, had a fine person, was endued with great strength of body, and of a noble courage, and having been brought up along with king Henry VIII his disposition was so conformable to that of the king, that he became a great favourite with him. Nay, that king actually raised him from the condition of a commoner to a dukedom, creating him first viscount Lisle, and then duke of Suffolk; and this at a time when there were so few peers of that rank in England; for I think we had no other duke when their graces the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk were made, 5 Henry VIII. but Edward Stafford, duke of Buckingham. Brandon, by means of his close connexion with the king and the court, had an opportunity of recommending himself to the favour of the princess Mary, the king's youngest sister, and one of the finest women of her time. The princess, it is thought, had no dislike to him; however she was afterwards married to Lewis XII. king of France,

Fiddes, p. 454.

but he dying within three months after the marriage, she became a dowager; and the king, her brother, writing her a letter of condolence upon the occasion, and to know her inclination as to her return into England, amongst others deputed the duke of Suffolk to carry it; when the duke, in possession of an opportunity so favourable to his inclinations, makes his addresses to the young queen, and in short married her in France, without the king's privity or con

sent.

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This fact, I presume, would have been in construction of law, high treason; for let the king be never so favourably disposed towards him, the marrying his sister without his consent was a high crime: and had the king, in the violence of his resentment, been inclined to have pushed matters to extremity, his grace must have been tried by his peers; and, as they were to determine whether a treason had been committed or not, the duke's head would have been in the utmost jeopardy in such a reign. This I infer from the words of the statute 25 Ed. III. "And because that many other like cases of treason may happen in time to come, which a man cannot think nor declare at this present time, it is accorded, that if any other case, supposed treason, which is not above specified, doth happen before any justices, the justices shall tarry without any going to judgment of the treason, till the cause be shewed and declared before the king and his parliament, whether it ought to be judged treason, or other felony." Which shews, that to denominate an act treasonable, depended very much at that time on interpretation; to wit, whether the fact extended to the king and his royal majesty, which is what the statute required; and Henry, earl of Surrey, was accordingly executed in this reign, only for bearing certain arms which belonged to the king. It is true bishop Burnet says, in his history of the reformation, tom. i. p. 9. that Henry designed a marriage between his sister and the duke of Suffolk, but would not openly give his consent. But this is said without proof, and when we consider the king's temper and circumstances, not at all probable. He was fiery, and very jealous of his honour; and Thomas Howard, youngest son to the duke of Norfolk, was imprisoned in his reign for affiancing himself without the king's consent, to Margaret, daughter to Archibald Douglas, earl of Angus, and his lady, Margaret, the king's sister, and actually died in prison, A. D. 1537. The king had no child himself at this time, his two sons being dead, and the princess Mary, who afterwards reigned, not born; insomuch that the suc

cession might possibly depend upon it: a point which this king ever kept in view, having, though not a personal, yet a bleeding remembrance of the broils that so lately had depopulated the kingdom during the long contests of the two houses of Lancaster and York. Henry takes particular notice of this affair of the succession in his speech at the Black Friars; and it is well known that the remote issue of this very match, in the person of that accomplished lady, the lady Jane Grey, was very near creating this king's daughter Mary much trouble at the time of her accession.

Brandon himself, though a prime favourite, was still but a subject, and though the king afterwards might be induced to pardon him, and did so, yet it is not likely that he either intended or approved of the match: nay, I must think it impossible but that the marriage being solemnized and consummated without his leave, he, or indeed any other prince, would be highly offended at it; and if he had proceeded to take off the duke's head for it, it would have been far from being the most arbitrary, or most unjustifiable measure of his but too bloody reign. Both Brandon and the young queen were sensible of the danger they were incurring: she, for her part, interested Francis I. king of France, to use his good offices with her brother before the celebration of the nuptials; and the duke in his letter to the cardinal upon the occasion says, he told the king of France" He was like to be undone if this matter should come to the knowledge of his master," and yet he ventured to marry without obtaining his hard-ruledt master's leave, or even without acquainting him with his design. It was certainly an act of great presumption, and the duke accordingly in one of his letters to Wolsey expresses his fears, that "when the king comes to be acquainted with the marriage, he will be displeased," and so he desires him to mediate in his favourt.

After the marriage, Suffolk and the French queen wrote to the king to implore his pardon; and one is obliged to suppose, from the natural impetuosity of Henry's temper, that he was incensed enough at first, and that there was the utmost need for some powerful friend to interpose between the duke and danger: Wolsey was that friend': Wolsey was then but archbishop of York, neither cardinal nor lord high chancellor, and consequently his greatness was but just

* Cavendish, p. 90.

So Shakespeare makes Wolsey stile Henry VIII.
Fiddes, p. 88.

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