1823.] 
only guessed at in doubt: for the 
¥rench of these letters is neither the 
French of the age in which they were 
written, nor indeed of any other pe- 
riod; it must be designated, par ex- 
cellence, Henry the Eighth’s French. 
Nor was this the only difficulty: there 
is scarcely a grammatical sentence,— 
one of complete sense in itself,—nor a 
properly-spelt line, throughout _ the 
series. They are not only (as the 
royal writer himself admits,) very 
rude, but, in verity, most barbarous 
specimens of the intelligence of a most 
barbarous man. How he could have 
been the learned author of the Defence 
of the Faith, it were difficult to esta- 
blish upon the merits of these pages. 
The only internal evidence afforded 
by these letters themselves, of the 
precise date at which they were writ- 
ten, lies in Henry’s mention of Wal- 
tham, and the sweating sickness,—a 
distemper of which other curious 
properties have been told, besides 
its compliment of feminine abhor- 
rence; for it is said, that it was con- 
fined to Englishmen, and extended, 
by sympathy of relationship, to mem- 
bers of the same family, however one 
of the sufferers happened to be sepa- 
rated, during its prevalence, from the 
other in a distant part. Thus, at the 
very time one brother took to his bed 
in England, the other fell ill in Paris; 
and, if the cousin in the Isle of Ely 
died, the corresponding kin was sure 
not to recover in Jamaica. But we 
Know that Henry was at Waltham in 
September 1529; he fell in love with 
Anne the year before; and was there 
supposed to have been determined, 
by Cranmer’s bold advice, to use the 
power he possessed, and do his own 
pleasure. The rude dismission of 
Campechio, the Pope’s legate,—and 
Wolsey’s degradation, and subsequent 
impeachment, — followed the inter- 
views of the visit. 
It was said the lovers were privately 
married at Calais in 1531, during 
Henry’s pompous visit to I’rancis the 
First; but the ceremony was not pro- 
claimed in this country until 1533. 
LETYER I. 
My mistress and love,—My heart 
and I transmit themselves into your 
hands; beseeching you to keep and 
recommend them to your good graces, 
that absence may not lessen your 
affection for them: to increase their 
Translation of Henry the Eighth’s Love- Letters. 
! 
109 
pains were, indeed, a pity, as absence 
is pain enough. The more I love, I 
have thought, to make ourselves pre= 
Sent to you a point of philosophy; 
which is, that the longer the days, the 
more distant the sun, and yet the 
warmer: so is it with our love; 
absence distances us, and nevertheless 
preserves the warmth of our wishes. 
With a hope that yours are equally 
as warm as mine, I assure ye the dis- 
tress of separation is too great; and, 
when I think of the added burthens 
to it which I must of necessity bear, 
the thought were intolerable, but for 
the strong reliance which I place in 
your indissoluble affection for me. To 
remind you of it at any time, as I 
cannot personally present myself to 
ye, I send ye what next most perti- 
nent I at present can; which is my 
picture set in bracelets, with all 
known device. Wishing myself in 
their place, when it shall please ye, 
this is from the hand of 
# + 
LETTER Il. 
To my Mistress.—The time has 
seemed so long since I heard of you, 
and your health, that the great affec- 
tion I bear you persuades me to send 
the bearer to ye, the better to assure 
myself of that health, and your wishes. 
Since my departure, I have been ap- 
prised that the opinions in which I 
left you have altogether changed, and 
that you do nvt choose to come to 
court, neither with madam your mo- 
ther, nor otherwise ; a representation 
which, if true, I cannot enough won- 
der at, as I am satisfied I never have 
been faulty towards ye. It does seem 
to me to be a very poor return for the 
great love I bear ye, to distance me 
from the society and person of the 
woman in the world I most ¢steem. 
If you loved me with the kind will I 
hope for, [ am sure our separation 
would concern ye; although it may 
not altogether so much affect the 
mistress as her humble servant. Think 
then, my mistress, and think well, 
how grievous is your absence to me, 
and I will hope it happens not of your 
inclination. If, in truth, I had to un- 
derstand, that voluntarily you desired 
it, 1 know not what I should do with 
myself, if not publicly to proclaim my 
sorrows, and so by degrees lessen 
their extreme folly. In want of time, 
I make an end of this rude letter, be- 
sceching ye to give faith to the gut 
or 
‘ 
