On a certain Thursday in the middle of November, 1501, all London was making its way towards Westminster Hall.

The open space in front of the hall and palace had been gravelled and sanded, and a tilt had been stretched over nearly the whole length, from the Watergate up "to the entrance of the gate that openeth into King'sstreet towards the sanctuary." At the upper end of this tilt, or tent, an artificial tree had been erected, decorated with leaves, flowers, and fruit, and enclosed with a paling. Upon rails under this tree were suspended the shields and escutcheons of lords and knights. At the opposite end of the tent there was a stage, with a partition in the midst. The part on the right hand was decorated with hangings and cushions of gold, intended for the king and his lords, and the part on the left was prepared for the queen and her ladies. A flight of stairs led from the king's portion down to the area, by which his messengers might pass to any part of the building with his orders. There was a private entrance for the king and queen through Westminster Hall, by the Exchequer Chamber, on to this stage. On the north side, opposite to that of the king, was another stage, covered with red silk, for the mayor, the sheriffs, the aldermen, and city dignitaries. All round the sides of the tent and upon the walls were double stages, very firmly built, for the general public, who were admitted at a high price. These were already filled with a gay crowd of people, closely packed together, and eagerly expecting the commencement of a scene of festivities, of which we can scarcely form a just conception, and which illustrates the life of the times.

There were to be jousts, banquets, and disguisings, for the occasion was an important one, and an ominous one, though they did not know it: for the country an important one, for the young heir to the throne had just married a beautiful Spanish princess, and the country's chivalry came out to rejoice over the hopeful event. It was an ominous one; for

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that youthful princess, with her dark eyes and long hair flowing over her shoulders, was destined to be the fountain of a vast change in the civil and religious economy of the whole country—such a change as can occur but once in a country's history. Little did she imagine, as she sat amongst the splendid chivalry of that court, that in only a few short years all Europe would be ringing with her name, and statesmen, ambassadors, nuncios, proud monarchs, and trembling pope would be busy with the wrongs of Catherine of Arragon. At the moment we are describing, she was not quite fifteen years of age, and her youthful husband, Arthur, the Prince of Wales, had just completed his fourteenth year. He was a prince of great promise, and at that early age had manifested those signs of intellectual activity and love of scholarship which were the characteristics of the Tudors. We read that he was already familiar with the principal Latin authors, and with Homer and Thucydides in the Greek. The scene we are endeavouring to sketch was the tournament held as a commencement to a whole week of festivities in honour of his nuptials.

As soon as the dinner was finished in the court, and when the patience of the multitude was nearly exhausted, the queen, accompanied by the king's mother, the Princess Catherine, the Lady Margaret and her sister, the king's daughters, with many other ladies of honour, entered upon the scene from Westminster Hall, and took up their position upon the stage allotted to them, amid the acclamations of the multitude. Shortly after another thunder of applause broke out, upon the appearance of His Majesty Henry VII., with the prince, the Duke of York, the Earl of Oxford, the Earls of Derby and Northumberland, and Spanish nobles, followed by the Esquires, Gentlemen, and Yeomen of the Guard in waiting. When they were seated, the Mayor of London, with all his company, entered and took up their position. In a few moments a loud blast of trumpets announced that the field was ready for the champions. Then, for the

challengers, proceeded out of Westminster Hall Sir George Herbert, Sir Rowland Knight, Lord Banners, and Lord Henry of Buckingham, armed, and mounted on good coursers, decked out in gay trappings. At this moment the proceedings were interrupted by the entrance of the Duke of Buckingham, carried in a pavilion of white and green silk, being square in form, and having turrets at each corner; these turrets were decorated with red roses, the king's badge. The pavilion was carried by a great number of his servants, who were dressed in jackets of black and red silk, followed by many others of his servants and gallants, well horsed, and their horses decorated with rich trappings, and bells, and spangles of gold. The procession moved down the tent to the king, when the duke paid his reverence, and was carried to the end near the hall, where they remained.

Again the trumpets blew a blast, and there came out of King-street, in at the gate which opened toward the Sanctuary, the defenders, Guillam de la Rivers, in a pavilion in the form of a ship, borne by men; then Sir John Percy, knight, in a pavilion of red silk; the Lord William of Devonshire, in a red dragon, led by a giant, and with a great tree in his hand; the Earl of Essex, in a mountain of green, which served for his pavilion, with many trees, rocks, herbs, stones, and marvellous beasts on the sides; on the height of this mountain was a fair young lady. They made their passage about the field, doing courtesy to the king, till they came to the place of entrance; then, as soon as they were out of their pavilions, the king gave the sign, and the tournament began.

At this first course the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Essex engaged, and the duke broke his staff upon the earl, and at the second course the earl broke his upon the duke, and the others engaged in turn with varied fortunes, in every course a staff being broken, and in some both. "So that," said the chronicler, "such a joust and field royall, so nobly and valiantly done, hath not been seene ne heard." _The day after the tournament, on Friday, in the evening, the company repaired to the great hall, which had been mag

nificently decorated for a disguising. The building was hung with rich cloths, and in the upper part was a royal cupboard erected, extending the whole length of the chancery; in it were seven shelves, filled with a rich treasure of plate, part of gold and part of silver, gilt. The court and guests assembled, and when all were seated the following entertainment commenced.

The first representation was a castle, cunningly devised, set upon wheels and drawn in by four great beasts, with chains of gold. The first beasts were lions, one of gold and the other of silver; the other two were, one of them a hart, with gilt horns, and the fourth was an elk. In each of these beasts were two men, one in the forepart and another in the hind part, their legs being disguised like those of beasts. This castle was carried to the king and queen, and in it were eight ladies looking out of the windows. In each turret there was a little child, and the four children sung sweetly whilst the castle was in progress, till it was removed to the other side of the hall.

The next pageant was a ship on wheels, with all the appurtenances of a ship in full sail, and the men on board did everything like sailors, and cast their anchors when they came opposite the king. In this ship was a fair lady, in apparel like the Princess of Spain. Two persons, Hope and Desire, descended from the ship by a ladder, and passed over towards the castle with banners like ambassadors from the Mount of Love to the ladies in the castle, offering them the love of the knights. The ladies declined, and then two of the ambassadors threatened that the knights would assault the castle.

At this point the third pageant made its appearance in the form of a great mountain, in which were eight knights, with their banners spread, calling themselves the knights of the Mount of Love. They took up their position on the other side of the ship. Then the two ambassadors reported to them the refusal of the ladies, and the knights came out from the mountain, and advanced to the assault of the castle, which they so reduced, that the ladies came out, and submitted themselves to the knights. They then all began dancing, and

during the dance the ship, the castle, and the mountain were removed. The dancers then gradually vanished out of sight, and down from the stage came the Lord Prince Arthur and the Lady Cecil, and danced two bassdances, and returned. Then the Lady Princess Catherine and one of her ladies, dressed after the Spanish fashion, came down and danced two bass-dances, and when they had returned the Duke of York, with his sister, the Lady Margaret, came down and did the same. All then sat down to the banquet, which was served with the utmost profusion of that extravagant age; after which they retired to rest.

On the Saturday it was rainy, and we are told "the goodly company of nobles, after doing their dueties to Almighty God in the church, made pastime right honorably in their bowers and chambers."

On the Sunday there was a great banquet, followed by dancing, and so through the rest of the week up to the next Thursday, banquets, jousts, disguisings, and tournaments succeeded each other without interruption, and in fact the whole was not brought to an end until the following Sunday, when a magnificent service was held to the "honor of Almighty God, with pricked songe and organes and goodlye ceremonies in the queere and aulters. Thus was the forenoone expended wholy, and with great vertue." But in the afternoon they played at chess, dice, and cards. The butts were got ready for the archers; there were bowling alleys, and "goodlye disports for every person." After praying and gambling, they finished the whole week's solemnity with another final feast and another disguising, when the "nobles received their presents. The Archbishop of Spain, the bishop, the earl, and his brother, made their repasts severally, every one of them in their owne chambers and lodgings, and they had cupboards made unto them of the king's plate, and treasure right goodly and rich. The archbishop's cupboard was to the sum of six or seven hundred marks, the bishop's unto the value of 500, the earl's 400, and his brother's 300 marks. All which plate and treasure the king's goodness bounteously gave to each of them, with most noble words and thanks for their great

diligence, labour, and paine that they had with his noble daughter in the lawe suffered and abidden. And thus was this most joyfull daie ended and expired, and the worthie nobles departed to their rests.'

On the 2nd April, 1502, only four months after this motley feasting and carousal, that promising young prince lay at Ludlow Castle, beyond the reach of worldly pleasures and cares. A severe winter, and not improbably the jousting and feasting into which he had been forced, completed the work which disease had already begun in a constitution naturally feeble.

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With his death commenced those complications, which in their development were made the means of effecting a vast religious and social change in the constitution of the country. We are compelled to revert to this distant period, in order to get at the root of the tree; for the dissolution of the monasteries, which was its fruit, was connected in some way, by the mysterious chain which links all human events together, with the lonely young stranger widow, still a child, in the shelter of the English court. parents of that child, Ferdinand and Isabella, then proposed to the English king a marriage between the widow and the younger son, Henry, now heirapparent to the throne. It was important to them to maintain friendly relations with England as a counterbalance to the enmity of France. After some hesitation, and assisted to a determination by an application from Ferdinand to send back his daughter, with the 100,000 crowns, the half of her marriage portion, which had been paid, Henry decided upon accepting the offer, upon the condition that Ferdinand should send him another 100,000 crowns, the remaining half of Catherine's portion. He would then procure a dispensation from the pope to enable the prince to marry the young widow, and the marriage should be celebrated when he had completed his fourteenth year.

Matters were settled, though for some reason unexplained, Henry, the day before his fourteenth year had expired, was taken by his father's orders to the court of the Bishop of Winchester, and there declared that, as he was at the age of puberty (fourteen), he then and there revoked the contract, in order that he might not

be supposed to have given his consent to the marriage between him and the Princess Catherine, and affirmed that he did not intend by anything which he had done or might do to confirm

it.

After such a declaration he was legally entitled to marry another woman. The law of compact was, that a contract of marriage could not be made before the male was fourteen and the female twelve years of age, but a preliminary contract might be made before that time, which should be binding, provided neither party before the coming of age should annul the contract. The motive for making the prince take this step can only be reasonably explained by the father's subsequent conduct.

It will be evident to the readers of English history that a considerable period elapsed between the time when Henry was to have married Catherine (ie., 28th June, 1505), according to the contract, and the time of his actual marriage, which did not take place until he was on the throne, on the 3rd of June, 1509. The delay is passed over by most English historians without being accounted for; but the father's actions clearly furnish at once the reason of the delay and the cause of the annulling of the contract. There was no disposition on the part of either father or son practically to annul the contract; but the father had other plans.

During that five years he himself made offers of marriage to three ladies. We must premise first that ten months after Arthur's death, Elizabeth, the queen, his mother, died. Henry then first made an offer of marriage to the widow of the King of Naples, who was reputed to be very rich; but finding upon inquiry that the reigning monarch refused to carry out the will of his predecessor, he abandoned his suit, and made an overture, under very peculiar circumstances, which might almost amount to a threat, for the hand of Margaret of Savoy, sister of Philip of Castile. After a very troublesome negotiation, matters were arranged; but before the marriage could be consummated,

Philip himself died, and Henry, thinking Juana, his widow, a still better match, turned his attentions in that direction; but, to his disappointment, he discovered that this unfortunate lady was mad, too mad even to be remarried; and Henry, disgusted with disappointments, then reverted to the original arrangement for the marriage of his son with Catherine. He appealed to her father, Ferdinand, and promised the marriage should take place, if the Spanish monarch would pay up the hundred thousand florins in four half-yearly instalments. It was agreed to, and three instalments had been paid by September, 1508, when the king died, and Henry VIII. coming to the throne, consummated the marriage himself on the 3rd June, 1509, though free to abandon it if he had chosen.

That there was an attachment betweeen Henry and Catherine cannot be doubted; and the idea that he was sacrificed to her for state purposes is exploded for ever. If any sacrifice were made, it was on the part of Catherine, who, after her youthful husband's death, was kept in England in a sort of durance by the vacillation of Henry and the political fear of her father. According to the Spanish historians, she had no inclination for another marriage in England.* In a matter of this kind, which is so obscured by religious dissension of the most violent kind, we can only get a probable idea of the truth by carefully comparing the statements of both sides. The Protestant historians are apt to overlook the extreme probability that the marriage of Catherine to Arthur was never really consummated. The prince was only fourteen years of age, and in very delicate health. There is, then, a natural probability, independent of the statements made by such men as Pole and Peter Martyr, to the effect that Henry had himself confessed to the fact; and the opinion that such was the case was universally held in Spain. The marriage ceremony also asserted the same fact, Catherine being dressed, not after the mode of a widow, but as a virgin,

with her hair loose, and dressed in white.*

But we must proceed to the change which came over Henry with regard to his marriage with Catherine. An impression, created by the negligence with which history is sometimes written with regard to chronology, has obtained amongst many people that Catherine was much older than Henry. It was not so. Even Dr. Lingard contradicts himself, when in one placet he says, "When Henry married the Princess Catherine, she was in her twenty-sixth year;" conseconsequently, as Henry was only eighteen, she must have been eight years his senior. But this is inconsistent with his previous statement, that in May, 1501, she was fourteen years and nine or ten months old, which is correct; and, therefore, when Henry married her, 3rd June, 1509, she could not possibly be more than twenty-two years and eleven months old--at the most, only four years and eleven months older than Henry, who had not quite completed his eighteenth year in April, 1509.

For several years their married life was happy. Henry himself acknowledged it; and Pole says that during the first part of his reign no man could show greater love towards a wife than he.§ But about sixteen years after his marriage, we find an uneasiness coming over his mind as to his marriage with his brother's widow. All her children had died, except one girl, Mary; she was in ill health, and he confided his pious scruples to Wolsey, who promised aid, believing him, no doubt, to be sincere.

The origin of the desire for divorce on the part of Henry must always remain open, as a matter of opinion. It is possible that it might have originated in a suspicion of illegality; but if we take into consideration the circumstances of his life, we cannot help fancying that it arose from a more worldly cause. He was not faithful to his wife, though he acknowledged his affection for her in every way by word and act; his carnal passions were stronger than

his love, stronger than himself, even at the best. To humanity such a state of being is, unfortunately, not impossible. It is quite clear, beyond all question, that he had a mistress in Elizabeth, the relict of Sir Gilbert Tailbois, who bore him the son of whom he was so fond, and who, had he lived, might have worn the crown of England. It is not so clearly ascertained though there is a great probability that Mary Boleyn, the sister of Anne, succeeded to the place of Elizabeth. It is doubted by Burnet, but Cardinal Pole reproached Henry with it in his private letters. No one can read the letters of Pole without being assured that, whatever that man's opinions were, he was a good man. No one had a higher reputation for integrity and honour; even Henry esteemed him, and tried most assiduously to get him on his side. He might have had honours, wealth, distinction; but he chose exile, and never hesitated to speak and write to the king (as, being connected with him in relationship, he might do) with the greater plainness; so that his evidence is worth listening to, and on events of Henry's life-those points which Protestant historians love to overlook-is most valuable.

In one of his letters to Henry, written in 1535, speaking of Anne Boleyn, he says, She had learned, I think, if from no other source, yet, from the example of her sister, how quickly you tire of your concubines;" and again, "it was her sister whom you first seduced, and for a long time afterwards kept as a mistress," and

you strive to induce the pope to allow you to marry the sister of a woman who has been your mistress.'

In any case it is quite clear that Henry, though he loved his wife, was not free from the stain of adultery, and it is the natural result of that crime to satiate its victim with the purer feeling by kindling the impure fire of lust. That at a certain point in their married life, and from no fault of her own, Catherine, who had always been wronged, lost the heart of her husband, is evident by his subsequent acts.

† Vol. iv. c. 8, Hist.