So when we speak of the fall of Wolsey we mean more than his irrevocable loss of power. He had lost his inner strength, and no longer kept his hold upon affairs. He knew that he was sullied and unnerved; that he had sunk from the position of a leader to that of one who tremblingly follows and devises shifty plans that he may still exercise the semblance of his old authority. He knew that in his negotiations about the divorce he staked everything that he had gained, and that the result, whatever it was, would be disastrous to his great designs. If he had succeeded he would have degraded the Papacy; and when Henry had once learned how easy it was for him to get his own way, he would have used his knowledge to the full, and Wolsey would have been powerless to direct him. When Wolsey became the instrument of the king's selfwill, he hoped that a few disappointments would wear out his obstinacy; when he saw Henry's growing resoluteness and complete selfwill he knew that for himself the future was hopeless. Still he had not the magnanimity to resign himself to his disappointment. He clung to power when power had ceased to be useful for his plans. He clung to power, because the habits of office had become to him a second nature. He vainly strove to find satisfaction in the discharge of his episcopal duties; he vainly tried to content himself with the simple affairs of simple men. He had given himself entirely to the material world, and had estranged himself from the spiritual world, which was to him thin and unsubstantial to the last. He could not refrain from casting longing glances behind him, and his last days are pitiable. The words of the dying man are often quoted as showing the misery of those who trust in princes' favour. But they are not merely an echo of a far-off state of things which has passed by for ever. "To serve one's country" may have a loftier and more noble sound than "to serve one's king," but the meaning is not necessarily different. The thought in Wolsey's heart was this--"If I had served the spiritual interests of my country as I have striven to serve its material interests my conscience would be more at rest." For Wolsey was a true patriot, and had noble aims. Much as he might deaden his conscience, he did not extinguish it; and his last judgment of himself expressed the sad conviction that neither his patriotism nor the nobility of his aims had saved him from actions which he could not justify, and which his conscience loudly condemned.