Such is Mr. Turner's opinion at page 163. But when he comes to discourse of the meeting of the sovereigns at Ardre, with its gaudy pageantry, and ruinous expense, his tone is much altered:

"In their days, grand displays of visible sumptuousness operated to excite those feelings of reverence which it is the interest of society that its official dignities should receive, in order that our civil obedience may be the spontaneous habit of our sympathies (?) rather than an extorted tribute to coercive power. In former times, pomp created an impression which awed turbulence into respect, and promoted the peace of society, by the admiration which followed the rank and power that could display it. In Henry's days, parade was necessary to obtain the reverence, without which the public subordination would have rested only on caprice or calculation; and therefore showy pomp may have been then as beneficial as it would now be ludicrous."―pp. 181-2.

We leave to Mr. Turner the task of reconciling these two passages. On the foreign transactions of Henry's reign we have very few remarks to offer. The policy of Wolsey, which is of course censured by our historian, was, in principle, precisely the same as that which has been pursued by the wisest of our monarchs and statesmen down to the present day. The great political maxim of England-to maintain the balance of Europe-was never more strictly and religiously adhered to than during the cardinal's administration. As to the duplicity and tortuous manoeuvres with which Wolsey is charged, they were rendered necessary by the systematic insincerity of those with whom he had to deal. We shall not be guilty of the solemn coxcombry of ascribing extraordinary deceit and hypocrisy to that age, nor declaiming against the mischievous principles of Machiavelli; for we are rather inclined to imagine that the statesmen of that period, Wolsey among the rest, had quite as ample a share of sincerity and good faith as those of the present; although perhaps the experience of ages may have furnished the latter with a more artificial veil for their "politic handling."

Mr. Turner takes great credit to himself for what he deems an important discovery relative to the Duke of Bourbon. In his preface, he says, "It has not been known before to our neighbours any more than to ourselves, as far as the writer has hitherto observed, that this personage, so famed as the Connetable de Bourbon, swore allegiance to Henry the Eighth, and engaged to make him king of France, and invaded it for that purpose." It is an ungrateful task to destroy so pleasing an illusion; but we are bound to state that Herbert made the discovery long ago. His words (Kennett, v. 2, p. 61,) are, "Bourbon (having given oath to acknowledge Henry the Eighth King of France) advanceth towards Provence, June 24, (on the Emperor's part M. de Beaurain attending him; and on our king's, Richard Pace;")-and even Hall says, that the duke was sworn to the king of England." The main fact then appears never to have been a secret. The details of the negociation Mr. Turner has been enabled to give us from the interesting collection of despatches and correspondence in the British Museum, from which he has drawn largely, and enriched his volume with copious extracts. And in this respect he is entitled to our warmest thanks, for having thus brought to light,

after so long a slumber, documents so extremely valuable. It is here that we recognize the assiduity and searching spirit of the historian of the Anglo-Saxons. The documents in question, it is true, present no new leading facts; but they furnish what is almost more interesting to the philosophic mind, a sort of political memoirs, in which the secret springs of great and small events are displayed to view, and princes and statesmen are exhibited in their natural proportions, and in the midst of their diplomatic machinery. It is much to be desired that the whole of these papers should be published unmutilated.

With respect to the chimerical project of gaining the crown of France for Henry, it is perfectly incomprehensible how any one in his senses can suppose, that either Bourbon was sincere when he offered his services to that end, or that the Emperor Charles would have tamely witnessed, much less that he would have assisted in the aggrandizement of the British monarch. Both Bourbon and Charles knew their own interests too well. They knew the vanity of Henry, and held out this lure to him, in order to gain his aid in furthering their ambitious views. Wolsey no doubt saw through their plans, and therefore refused them the means of utterly crushing Francis, and raising Charles to undisputed pre-eminence in Europe. For this wise conduct, the cardinal is bitterly reproached by Mr. Turner, as having frustrated the measures which would have raised Henry to the throne of France. And yet, with astonishing inconsistency, the historian afterwards lauds Henry to the skies, for his forbearance towards Francis" but that when his enemy was at his feet, and his crown offered to him by one whose talents had the power of commanding victory, when sufficiently supported, he should evince such a selfcorrecting equanimity of mind, as to renounce the tempting objects of inviting ambition, and leave France to its independence and social comforts unmolested and unenvied, entitles him to our moral applause, and lifts him to a great superiority over the restless spirits, whose lust of conquest and dominion have so often shaken the unoffending world." pp. 332-3. This is by no means an unusual strain with the author, when speaking of the king. In another place (p.314) he exclaims," Happily for mankind, Henry had none of the inhuman qualities, the fierce spirit and persevering insensibility of a great and active conqueror. He took no pleasure in causing or contemplating fields of human slaughter, &c. He had not therefore that stern induration of temper, which must have predominated in an Edward the Third, an Henry the Fifth, a Hannibal, an Alexander, a Cæsar, and a Buonaparte (!!!) In all such persons, the heart could not have had its due moral sensibility, nor the spirit any lasting sympathy for its kind." God defend us from such sensibilities, and bloodthirsty sympathies, as those of Henry the Eighth.

That Mr. Turner should persuade any rational being to agree with him in his inferences, is not much to be dreaded. That he should have persuaded himself of the truth of what he advances, almost staggers belief. It must, however, be acknowledged, that, even in indifferent matters, his credulity far exceeds the ordinary measure allotted to mankind. In this spirit of gullibility he informs us, (p. 245,) that Rencé undermined the wall of Aronna, and blew it up; "but it previously fell down into the very space it had quitted, and

to his surprise and discomfiture remained standing and solid." And at page 678, he gravely states, that "Francis was so affected by the news of Henry's death, as to survive him only two months." The uncharitable world imagines that Francis died of a much less romantic malady than grief.*

Connected with the foreign policy of Henry's reign, the following document is given by Mr. Turner, from the manuscripts in the British Museum. It contains instructions to the new embassy, sent to Francis on his liberation from captivity, to sound the disposition of the French king and his mother, respecting the conditions of the peace of Madrid; and is an admirable specimen of the diplomacy of the times. The ingenious and delicate turn of these minute directions, gives us no small insight into that dexterous handling of Wolsey, which enabled him for so many years to govern the most arbitrary of monarchs, and to influence the destinies of Europe.

Finding them not to be to the French king's contentment, then to say of themselves soberly, and in manner of stupefaction and marvel, that these be great and high conditions, the like whereof have not been heard of, and such as were even here thought were either never agreed to, or being agreed to, should never be performed. By the which they shall soon perceive, whether the French king, his mother or council, shall open themselves to them.

"Then to suggest, that this be the way to bring him (Charles) to the monarchy of christendom-at which point they shall infer what damage the crown of France may and is likely to stand in, by the said conditions. So always ordering their words, that the same may seem rather to be a demonstration of their own reason and opinion, chanced in conference, than spoken of purpose, till such time as they shall assuredly perceive, that the French king, &c. be averse to the said appointment.

"They may recount the great regions, countries, and dominions, the emperor hath. The realms of Naples and Sicily-Milan, Genoathe country of Este, and others his possessions in Italy, which with his crown, be not unlike to bring unto him the whole monarchy and dominion of Italy; also the whole country of Germany, being the greatest part of christendom; and having on the lower parts Artois, Flanders, Zealand, Holland, Brabant, Hainhault, and other provinces, besides the duchy of Burgundy, now to be given up, and his inherited realms of Castile, Arragon, Granada, Asturia, Perpignan, and Roussillon.

"At which point, not perceiving an express determination in them to observe the said conditions, the ambassadors shall by way of a question, to the French king, or to the lady, say, Be ye minded: is it your very intent to observe the said condition, or think ye

The origin of the malady to which Francis ultimately fell a victim, is thus related by Garnier, in his History of France. "Il etoit devenu amoureux d'une simple bourgeoise de Paris, que les mémoires du tems ne désignent point autrement que sous le nom de la belle Ferronniere. Le maritransporté de jalousie et content d'exposer sa vie, pourvu qu'il parvint à se venger, alla puiser dans les lieux de prostitution le venin dont il infecta sa femme, et qu'elle ne tarda pas de communiquer à son amant. Le mari se mit sur la champ entre les mains des médecins et guérit: la femme mourut; et le roi, malgré la vigeur de son tempérament, resta long-tems désespéré." Eight years after, the disease broke out afresh, and brought him to the grave.

yourselves, in conscience, honour, law and reason, astringed and bound so to do?

6

"Whereunto they shall suffer them to make answer; the said Sir Thomas Cheyney demanding, nevertheless of Dr. Taylor, what he thinketh thereon by such learning as he hath in the law?'

"Whereunto the said Dr. Taylor, ensuing the truth, may answer of what final effects in conscience or law, is a promise, bond, or convention, made in captivity, to him to whom he is a prisoner. This, his answer, he shall in good manner extend most to the purpose, enforcing and encouraging thereby the residue present, to show the more openly and frankly their opinion. It shall then appear whether the said French king, or the residue, be minded or not to hear a device upon the ways how they may be delivered of the said conditions.

"In which device, suffering the overtures by these provocations to proceed as much as may be on the French part, and using a temperance and moderation, as though they would rather counsel-they may say, that it is not to be doubted but the Pope's holiness the Venetians, the Florentines, with other powers of Italy, and semblably the Swyzzers, and divers others, all whom the French king shall utterly lose for ever, if he once bring the emperor unto his height.

"In all and singular the premises, the said ambassadors must use good circumspection, so as in anywise in speaking or disclosing things that may sound against the emperor, they be well assured to contain themselves within their limits.

"And first, to know perfectly the intent and disposition of the said king and lady, and others of his court, and how their minds be inclined to an observance of the said conditions, which it is verily supposed they shall be right loth to perform, if they may find any good comfort or refuge for the recovery of the said hostages. And as they shall perceive the intentions of the French king, so they may, by dexterity, be more open or close, as the case may require. But so that they provoke the French to be more plain with them, and with a better confidence to disclose the secret of their intentions in the premises. And if they find them fervent and earnest not to perform, they shall proceed the more plainly; always answering and giving counsel, and not proposing otherwise than by the introductions, and giving occasions as aforesaid."

The instruction to Sir Thomas Cheyney to demand of Dr. Taylor, in the presence of Francis and his mother, "what he thinketh thereon, by such learning as he has in the law," is an exquisite stroke.

The tragical fate of the unfortunate Anne Boleyn is an event tco prominent in the history of Henry's reign, to be passed over by Mr. Turner in silence; although we can readily imagine, that he would willingly have suppressed, if possible, the affecting detail of her virtues and her wrongs. The necessity of stating the facts connected with this painful subject, has embarrassed our historian to the last degree; and finding it impossible to extricate himself, he has endeavoured to entangle his readers in the same labyrinth of perplexities. In one place he dwells upon the beauties of Anne's person and mind, and the strength of that virtue which could for six years resist the seductive importunities of a royal lover. In another, he all but FEB. 1827.

Q

pronounces her guilty of charges, the absurdity of which can only be equalled by their atrocity; confessing at the same time that there was not one particle of conclusive evidence against her. In others, again, he mystifies the question of guilt and innocence by so many hints and inuendoes, puerile reflections, affected mawkish sentiments, such a throng of cumbrous words, and inflated sentences, that the reader is bewildered in his endeavour to discover the author's real opinion on the subject. The cause of this mystification is to be found in that religions bias, under the influence of which he commenced his history, and which has perverted his judgment from the beginning to the end. Anne Boleyn had been assailed with the most disgusting and rancorous abuse by the popish writers; therefore it was necessary that she should be vindicated. But then she was sent to the scaffold by Henry; therefore it was necessary, for the sake of Henry's character, that she should be condemned. Hence the confusion worse confounded of this part of Mr. Turner's history.

We have given below in a note* the most interesting of the letters

"Mine own sweet heart-This will be to advertise you of the great longness that I find here since your departing; for I assure you, me thinketh the time longer since your departing now last, than I was wont to do a whole fortnight. I think your kindness and my fervency of love causeth it, for otherwise I would not have thought it possible that for so little a while it should have grieved me: But now that I am coming towards you methinketh my pains be half relieved; and also I am right well comforted, insomuch that my book maketh substantially for my matter. In toking whereof I have spent above four hours this day, which hath caused me now to write the shorter letter to you at this time, because of some pain in my head; wishing myself specially one evening in my sweethearts arms. Written with the hands of him that was is and shall be yours by his will. H. T."

The allusion to astronomy in the next reminds us of the style of his royal successor, James I.

"My mistress and friend-I and my heart place themselves in your hands, praying you let them be recommended to your favor, and that your affection for them may not be diminished by your absence. It would be a great pity to increase their pain because the absence gives them enough, and more than 1 could have thought. It brings to my mind this point of astronomy, as the days are longer when the sun is farthest off, and yet its heat is then more fervid, so it is with our love. We are placed at a distance by your absence and yet it keeps it's fervor at least on my side; I hope that yours resembles it, for I assure you that on my part the weariness from the absence is already too great for me; and when I think of the augmentation of it which I must endure, it becomes intolerable to me, but for the firm hope which I have of your indissoluble affection for me. To call this sometimes to your recollection, and seeing that I cannot be personally in your presence, I send you the nearest thing to it which I am able, my picture set in bracelets, with the device which you already know, wishing to be in their place wherever you shall please. This is from the hand of your loyal servant and friend -H.T."

What a contrast to the rest of his character is presented in the humble expressions of the next letter!

"To my mistress-Fecause the time seems to me to have been very long since I have heard of your good health and you, my great affection for you persuades me to send to you the bearer of this, to be better assured of your health and wishes. And as since my parting with you, I am told that the opinion in which I left you is entirely changed, and that you will not come to court, neither with my lady your mother nor otherwise: If this report be true I cannot enough wonder at it, as I am certain that I never committed a fault towards you, and it is but a small return for the great love I bear you, to keep from me both the conversation and the person of that woman whom I most esteem in the world. If you love me with as good an affection as I hope for, I am sure that the separation of our persons must be a little unpleasing to you. Tho, indeed, this belongs not so much to the mistress as to the servant. Think truly that your absence exceedingly grieves me, tho I hope it is not your wish that it should