high treason." Wolsey was struck dumb, and stood motionless as a statue. He then bowed to the order, and prepared for his journey. On Sunday the earl set out with his prisoner, and on the 9th of November, on the third day, they arrived at Sheffield Park, the residence of the Earl of Shrewsbury, steward of the king's household. The earl, Lady Shrewsbury, and their family, received the cardinal with much kindness and respect, and he remained with them a fortnight, awaiting the further orders of the Court. During this anxious time his constitution gave way; he was seized with dysentery. Whilst in this suffering state. Sir William Kingston, Constable of the Tower, arrived, with four-and-twenty of his guards, to conduct him to London. The Earl of Shrewsbury, fearing the effect of this news on the cardinal in his weak condition, requested Cavendish to communicate it to him in the best manner that he could. Cavendish, therefore, told him he brought him good news: the king had sent Sir William Kingston to conduct him to his Royal presence. "Kingston!" cried the cardinal; and clapping his hand on his thigh, gave a great sigh. The Earl of Shrewsbury entered, and told him that he had letters from his friends at Court, who assured him that the king expressed the greatest friendship for him, and was determined to restore him to favour. Then followed Kingston himself, who fell on his knees, and refusing to move from that posture till he had delivered the Royal message, he assured the cardinal of the king's great goodness towards him, and that he had commanded him to obey him in all things. But the cardinal, who was too well acquainted with the real meaning of such things, replied, "Rise, sir; I know what is designed for me. I thank you, sir, for your good news. I am a diseased man, but I will prepare to ride with you tomorrow."
Ruins of Leicester Abbey, the scene of the Death of Cardinal Wolsey.
In a state of great exhaustion, Wolsey set out, and on the third evening reached Leicester Abbey, where the abbot, at the head of a procession of the monks, with lighted torches, received him. He was completely worn out, and being lifted from his mule, said, "I am come, my brethren, to lay my bones amongst you." The monks carried him to his bed, where he swooned repeatedly; and the second morning his servants, who had watched him with anxious affection, saw that he was dying. He called to his bedside Sir William Kingston, and, amongst others, addressed to him these remarkable words:—"Had I but served God as diligently as I have served the king, he would not have given me over in my grey hairs. But this is the just reward that I must receive for my diligent pains and study, not regarding my service to God, but only to my prince. Let me advise you to take care what you put in the king's head, for you can never put it out again. I have often kneeled before him, sometimes three hours together, to persuade him from his will and appetite, but could not prevail. He is a prince of most royal courage, and hath a princely heart; for, rather than miss or want any part of his will, he will endanger one half of his kingdom."
In what the dying cardinal said as to the impossibility of ever putting an idea out of Henry's head that you once put in, no doubt he alluded to his having suggested the idea of the divorce and the marriage of a French princess, which suggestion had thus fatally worked for himself. On the 29th of November, 1530, thus died Thomas, Lord Cardinal Wolsey, one of the most extraordinary characters that was ever raised up and again overthrown by the
