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THE DIVORCE OF CATHERINE OF ARAGON




  THE DIVORCE
  OF
  CATHERINE OF ARAGON


  THE STORY AS TOLD BY THE IMPERIAL AMBASSADORS
  RESIDENT AT THE COURT OF
  HENRY VIII.


  _IN USUM LAICORUM_


  BY
  J. A. FROUDE


  _BEING A SUPPLEMENTARY VOLUME TO THE
  AUTHOR'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND_


  NEW YORK
  CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
  1891

  [_All rights reserved_]



  Copyright, 1891,
  BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.


  _The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A._
  Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.




CONTENTS


                                                                      PAGE

  INTRODUCTION                                                           1


  CHAPTER I.

  Prospects of a disputed succession to the crown--Various
  claimants--Catherine incapable of having further children--
  Irregularity of her marriage with the King--Papal dispensations--
  First mention of the divorce--Situation of the Papacy--Charles
  V.--Policy of Wolsey--Anglo-French alliance--Imperial troops in
  Italy--Appeal of the Pope--Mission of Inigo de Mendoza--The
  Bishop of Tarbes--Legitimacy of the Princess Mary called in
  question--Secret meeting of the Legates' court--Alarms of
  Catherine--Sack of Rome by the Duke of Bourbon--Proposed reform
  of the Papacy--The divorce promoted by Wolsey--Unpopular in
  England---Attempts of the Emperor to gain Wolsey                      21


  CHAPTER II.

  Mission of Wolsey to Paris--Visits Bishop Fisher on the way--
  Anxieties of the Emperor--Letter of the Emperor to Henry VIII.--
  Large offers to Wolsey--Address of the French Cardinals to the
  Pope--Anne Boleyn chosen by Henry to succeed Catherine--Surprise
  and displeasure of Wolsey--Fresh attempts of the Emperor to bribe
  him--Wolsey forced to continue to advocate the divorce--Mission
  of Dr. Knight to Rome--The Pope at Orvieto--The King applies for
  a dispensation to make a second marriage--Language of the
  dispensation demanded--Inferences drawn from it--Alleged intrigue
  between the King and Mary Boleyn                                      41


  CHAPTER III.

  Anxiety of the Pope to satisfy the King--Fears of the Emperor--
  Proposed alternatives--France and England declare war in the
  Pope's defence--Campeggio to be sent to England--The King's
  account of the Pope's conduct--The Pope's distress and alarm--The
  secret decretal--Instructions to Campeggio                            62


  CHAPTER IV.

  Anne Boleyn--Letters to her from the King--The Convent at
  Wilton--The Divorce--The Pope's promises--Arrival of Campeggio
  in England--Reception at the Bridewell Palace--Proposal to
  Catherine to take the veil--Her refusal--Uncertainty of the
  succession--A singular expedient--Alarms of Wolsey--The true
  issue--Speech of the King in the City--Threats of the Emperor--
  Defects in the Bull of Pope Julius--Alleged discovery of a brief
  supplying them--Distress of Clement                                   70


  CHAPTER V.

  Demands of the Imperial Agent at Rome--The alleged Brief--Illness
  of the Pope--Aspirations of Wolsey--The Pope recovers--Imperial
  menaces--Clement between the anvil and the hammer--Appeal of
  Henry to Francis--The trial of the cause to proceed--Instructions
  to Campeggio--Opinion at Rome--Recall of Mendoza--Final interview
  between Mendoza and the King                                          86


  CHAPTER VI.

  The Court at Blackfriars--The point at issue--The Pope's
  competency as judge--Catherine appeals to Rome--Imperial pressure
  upon Clement--The Emperor insists on the Pope's admission of the
  appeal--Henry demands sentence--Interference of Bishop Fisher--
  The Legates refuse to give judgment--The Court broken up--Peace
  of Cambray                                                            99


  CHAPTER VII.

  Call of Parliament--Wolsey to be called to account--Anxiety of
  the Emperor to prevent a quarrel--Mission of Eustace Chapuys--
  Long interview with the King--Alarm of Catherine--Growth of
  Lutheranism--The English clergy--Lord Darcy's Articles against
  Wolsey--Wolsey's fall--Departure of Campeggio--Letter of Henry to
  the Pope--Action of Parliament--Intended reform of the Church--
  Alienation of English feeling from the Papacy                        110


  CHAPTER VIII.

  Hope of Wolsey to return to power--Anger of Anne Boleyn and the
  Duke of Norfolk--Charles V. at Bologna--Issue of a prohibitory
  brief--The Pope secretly on Henry's side--Collection of
  opinions--Norfolk warns Chapuys--State of feeling in England--
  Intrigues of Wolsey--His illness and death                           131


  CHAPTER IX.

  Danger of challenging the Papal dispensing power--The Royal
  family of Spain--Address of the English Peers to the Pope--
  Compromise proposed by the Duke of Norfolk--The English Agents at
  Rome--Arrival of a new Nuncio in England--His interview with the
  King--Chapuys advises the King's excommunication--Position of the
  English clergy--Statute of Provisors--The clergy in a Præmunire--
  Remonstrances of the Nuncio--Despair of Catherine--Her letter to
  the Pope--Henry prepares for war--The introduction of briefs from
  Rome forbidden--Warnings given to the Spanish Ambassador and the
  Nuncio                                                               141


  CHAPTER X.

  State of feeling in England--Clergy and laity--The Clergy in a
  Præmunire--The Royal Supremacy--Hesitation at Rome--Submission of
  the Clergy--The meaning of the new title--More and Fisher--Alarm
  of the Emperor--Appeal of Catherine to him--Unpopularity of Anne
  Boleyn--Threats of excommunication--Determination of Henry--
  Deputation of Peers to Catherine--Catherine's reply--Intolerable
  pretensions of the Emperor--Removal of Catherine from the Court      157


  CHAPTER XI.

  Proposals for the reunion of Christendom--Warning addressed to
  the Pope--Address of the English nobles to Queen Catherine--
  Advances of Clement to Henry--Embarrassments of the Pope and the
  Emperor--Unwillingness of the Pope to decide against the King--
  Business in Parliament--Reform of the English Church--Death of
  Archbishop Warham--Bishop Fisher and Chapuys--Question of
  annates--Papal Briefs--The Pope urged to excommunicate Henry--The
  Pope refuses--Anger of Queen Catherine's Agent                       175


  CHAPTER XII.

  Henry advised to marry without waiting for sentence--Meeting of
  Henry and Francis--Anne Boleyn present at the interview--Value of
  Anne to the French Court--Pressure on the Pope by the Agents of
  the Emperor--Complaints of Catherine--Engagements of Francis--
  Action of Clement--The King conditionally excommunicated--Demand
  for final sentence--Cranmer appointed Archbishop of Canterbury--
  Marriage of Henry and Anne Boleyn--Supposed connivance of the
  Pope--The Nuncio attends Parliament--The Act of Appeals--The
  Emperor entreated to intervene--Chapuys and the King                 192


  CHAPTER XIII.

  The King's claim--The obstinacy of Catherine--The Court at
  Dunstable--Judgment given by Cranmer--Debate in the Spanish
  Council of State--Objections to armed interference--The English
  opposition--Warning given to Chapuys--Chapuys and the Privy
  Council--Conversation with Cromwell--Coronation of Anne Boleyn--
  Discussions at Rome--Bull supra Attentatis--Confusion of the
  Catholic Powers--Libels against Henry--Personal history of
  Cromwell--Birth of Elizabeth--The King's disappointment--Bishop
  Fisher desires the introduction of a Spanish army into England--
  Growth of Lutheranism                                                218


  CHAPTER XIV.

  Interview between the Pope and Francis at Marseilles--Proposed
  compromise--The divorce case to be heard at Cambray--The Emperor
  consents--Catherine refuses--The story of the Nun of Kent--Bishop
  Fisher in the Tower--Imminent breach with the Papacy--Catherine
  and the Princess Mary--Separation of the Princess from her
  mother--Catherine at Kimbolton--Appeals to the Emperor--
  Encouragement of Lutheranism--Last efforts at Rome--Final
  sentence delivered by the Pope--The Pope's authority abolished in
  England                                                              243


  CHAPTER XV.

  The Papal curse--Determined attitude of the Princess Mary--
  Chapuys desires to be heard in Parliament--Interview with the
  King--Permission refused--The Act of Succession--Catherine loses
  the title of Queen--More and Fisher refuse to swear to the
  statute--Prospects of rebellion in Ireland--The Emperor unwilling
  to interfere--Perplexity of the Catholic party--Chapuys before
  the Privy Council--Insists on Catherine's rights--Singular
  defence of the Pope's action--Chapuys's intrigues--Defiant
  attitude of Catherine--Fears for her life--Condition of Europe--
  Prospect of war between France and the Empire--Unwillingness of
  the Emperor to interfere in England--Disappointment of
  Catherine--Visit of Chapuys to Kimbolton                             260


  CHAPTER XVI.

  Prosecution of Lord Dacre--Failure of the Crown--Rebellion in
  Ireland--Lord Thomas Fitzgerald--Delight of the Catholic party--
  Preparations for a rising in England--The Princess Mary--Lord
  Hussey and Lord Darcy--Schemes for insurrection submitted to
  Chapuys--General disaffection among the English Peers--Death of
  Clement VII.--Election of Paul III.--Expectation at Rome that
  Henry would now submit--The expectation disappointed--The Act of
  Supremacy--The Italian conjuror--Reginald Pole--Violence and
  insolence of Anne Boleyn--Spread of Lutheranism--Intended escape
  of the Princess Mary out of England                                  283


  CHAPTER XVII.

  Prospects of civil war--England and Spain--Illness of the
  Princess Mary--Plans for her escape--Spirit of Queen Catherine--
  The Emperor unwilling to interfere--Negotiations for a new treaty
  between Henry and Charles--Debate in the Spanish Council of
  State--The rival alliances--Disappointment of the confederate
  Peers--Advance of Lutheranism in England--Cromwell and Chapuys--
  Catherine and Mary the obstacles to peace--Supposed designs on
  Mary's life                                                          301


  CHAPTER XVIII.

  Negotiations for a treaty--Appeal of Catherine to the Emperor--
  Fresh plans for the escape of Mary--Forbidden by the Emperor--
  The King and his daughter--Suggestion of Dr. Butts--The clergy
  and the Reformation--The Charterhouse monks--More and Fisher in
  the Tower--The Emperor in Africa--The treaty--Rebellion in
  Ireland--Absolution of Lord Thomas Fitzgerald for the murder of
  the Archbishop of Dublin--Treason of Lord Hussey--Fresh debates
  in the Spanish Council--Fisher created cardinal--Trial and
  execution of Fisher and More--Effect in Europe                       318


  CHAPTER XIX.

  Campaign of the Emperor in Africa--Uncertainties at Rome--Policy
  of Francis--English preparations for war--Fresh appeals to the
  Emperor--Delay in the issue of the censures--The Princess Mary--
  Letter of Catherine to the Pope--Disaffection of the English
  Catholics--Libels against Henry--Cromwell and Chapuys--Lord
  Thomas Fitzgerald--Dangerous position of Henry--Death of the Duke
  of Milan--Effect on European policy--Intended Bull of Paul III.--
  Indecision of Charles--Prospect of war with France--Advice of
  Charles to Catherine--Distrust of the Emperor at the Papal
  Court--Warlike resolution of the Pope restrained by the Cardinals    347


  CHAPTER XX.

  Illness of Queen Catherine--Her physicians' report of her
  health---Her last letter to the Emperor--She sends for Chapuys--
  Interview between Chapuys and Henry--Chapuys at Kimbolton--Death
  of Catherine--Examination of the body--Suspicion of poison--
  Chapuys's opinion--Reception of the news at the Court--Message of
  Anne Boleyn to the Princess Mary--Advice of Chapuys--Unpopularity
  of Anne--Court rumours                                               371


  CHAPTER XXI.

  Funeral of Catherine--Miscarriage of Anne--The Princess Mary and
  the Act of Supremacy--Her continued desire to escape--Effect of
  Catherine's death on Spanish policy--Desire of the Emperor to
  recover the English alliance--Chapuys and Cromwell--Conditions of
  the treaty--Efforts of the Emperor to recover Henry to the
  Church--Matrimonial schemes--Likelihood of a separation of the
  King from Anne--Jane Seymour--Anne's conduct--The Imperial
  treaty--Easter at Greenwich--Debate in Council--The French
  Alliance or the Imperial--The alternative advantages--Letter of
  the King to his Ambassador in Spain                                  389


  CHAPTER XXII.

  Easter at Greenwich--French and Imperial factions at the English
  court--Influence of Anne Boleyn--Reports of Anne's conduct
  submitted to the King--Flying rumours--Secret Commission of
  Enquiry--Arrests of various persons--Sir Henry Norris and the
  King--Anne before the Privy Council--Sent to the Tower--Her
  behaviour and admissions--Evidence taken before the Commission--
  Trials of Norris, Weston, Brereton, and Smeton--Letter of
  Weston--Trial of Anne and her brother--Executions--Speech of
  Rochford on the scaffold--Anne sentenced to die--Makes a
  confession to Cranmer--Declared to have not been the King's
  lawful wife--Nature of the confession not known--Execution           412


  CHAPTER XXIII.

  Competition for Henry's hand--Solicitations from France and from
  the Emperor--Overtures from the Pope--Jane Seymour--General
  eagerness for the King's marriage--Conduct of Henry in the
  interval before Anne's execution--Marriage with Jane Seymour--
  Universal satisfaction--The Princess Mary--Proposal for a General
  Council--Neutrality of England in the war between France and the
  Empire                                                               436


  CHAPTER XXIV.

  Expectation that Henry would return to the Roman Communion--Henry
  persists in carrying out the Reformation--The Crown and the
  clergy--Meeting of a new Parliament--Fresh repudiation of the
  Pope's authority--Complications of the succession--Attitude of
  the Princess Mary--Her reluctant submission--The King empowered
  to name his successor by will--Indication of his policy--The
  Pilgrimage of Grace--Cost of the Reformation--The martyrs,
  Catholic and Protestant                                              450


  INDEX                                                                465




THE DIVORCE OF CATHERINE OF ARAGON.




INTRODUCTION.


The mythic element cannot be eliminated out of history. Men who play
leading parts on the world's stage gather about them the admiration of
friends and the animosity of disappointed rivals or political enemies. The
atmosphere becomes charged with legends of what they have said or
done--some inventions, some distortions of facts, but rarely or never
accurate. Their outward acts, being public, cannot be absolutely
misstated; their motives, being known only to themselves, are an open
field for imagination; and as the disposition is to believe evil rather
than good, the portraits drawn may vary indefinitely, according to the
sympathies of the describer, but are seldom too favourable. The more
distinguished a man is the more he is talked about. Stories are current
about him in his own lifetime, guaranteed apparently by the highest
authorities; related, insisted upon; time, place, and circumstance
accurately given--most of them mere malicious lies; yet, if written down,
to reappear in memoirs a hundred years hence, they are likely to pass for
authentic, or at least probable. Even where there is no malice,
imagination will still be active. People believe or disbelieve, repeat or
suppress, according to their own inclinations; and death, which ends the
feuds of unimportant persons, lets loose the tongues over the characters
of the great. Kings are especially sufferers; when alive they hear only
flattery; when they are gone men revenge themselves by drawing hideous
portraits of them, and the more distinguished they may have been the more
minutely their weaknesses are dwelt upon. "C'est un plaisir indicible,"
says Voltaire, "de donner des décrets contre des souverains morts quand on
ne peut en lancer contre eux de leur vivant de peur de perdre ses
oreilles." The dead sovereigns go their way. Their real work for good or
evil lives after them; but they themselves are where the opinions
expressed about their character affect them no more. To Cæsar or Napoleon
it matters nothing what judgment the world passes upon their conduct. It
is of more importance for the ethical value of history that acts which as
they are related appear wicked should be duly condemned, that acts which
are represented as having advanced the welfare of mankind should be duly
honoured, than that the real character of individuals should be correctly
appreciated. To appreciate any single man with complete accuracy is
impossible. To appreciate him even proximately is extremely difficult.
Rulers of kingdoms may have public reasons for what they do, which at the
time may be understood or allowed for. Times change, and new interests
rise. The circumstances no longer exist which would explain their conduct.
The student looks therefore for an explanation in elements which he thinks
he understands--in pride, ambition, fear, avarice, jealousy, or
sensuality; and, settling the question thus to his own satisfaction,
resents or ridicules attempts to look for other motives. So long as his
moral judgment is generally correct, he inflicts no injury, and he suffers
none. Cruelty and lust are proper objects of abhorrence; he learns to
detest them in studying the Tiberius of Tacitus, though the character
described by the great Roman historian may have been a mere creation of
the hatred of the old Roman aristocracy. The manifesto of the Prince of
Orange was a libel against Philip the Second; but the Philip of Protestant
tradition is an embodiment of the persecuting spirit of Catholic Europe
which it would be now useless to disturb. The tendency of history is to
fall into wholesome moral lines whether they be accurate or not, and to
interfere with harmless illusions may cause greater errors than it aspires
to cure. Crowned offenders are arraigned at the tribunal of history for
the crimes which they are alleged to have committed. It may be sometimes
shown that the crimes were not crimes at all, that the sufferers had
deserved their fate, that the severities were useful and essential for
some great and valuable purpose. But the reader sees in the apology for
acts which he had regarded as tyrannical a defence of tyranny itself.
Preoccupied with the received interpretation, he finds deeds excused which
he had learnt to execrate; and in learning something which, even if true,
is of no real moment to him, he suffers in the maiming of his perceptions
of the difference between right and wrong. The whitewashing of the
villains of tradition is, therefore, justly regarded as waste of labour.
If successful, it is of imperfect value; if unsuccessful, it is a misuse
of industry which deserves to be censured. Time is too precious to be
squandered over paradoxes. The dead are gone; the censure of mankind has
written their epitaphs, and so they may be left. Their true award will be
decided elsewhere.

This is the common sense verdict. When the work of a man is done and
ended; when, except indirectly and invisibly, he affects the living world
no more, the book is closed, the sentence is passed, and there he may be
allowed to rest. The case is altered, however, when the dead still live in
their actions, when their principles and the effects of their conduct are
still vigorous and operative, and the movements which they initiated
continue to be fought over. It sometimes happens that mighty revolutions
can be traced to the will and resolution of a single man, and that the
conflict continues when he is gone. The personal character of such a man
becomes then of intrinsic importance as an argument for attack or defence.
The changes introduced by Henry VIII. are still denounced or defended with
renewed violence; the ashes of a conflict which seemed to have been
decided are again blown into a flame; and what manner of man Henry was,
and what the statesmen and churchmen were who stood by him and assisted
him in reshaping the English constitution, becomes a practical question of
our own time. By their fruits ye shall know them. A good tree cannot bear
evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Roman
Catholics argue from the act to the man, and from the man back to the act.
The Reformation, they say, was a rebellion against an authority appointed
by God for the rule of the world; it was a wicked act in itself; the
author or the authors of it were presumably, therefore, themselves wicked;
and the worst interpretation of their conduct is antecedently probable,
because a revolt against the Church of Christ could only have originated
in depraved hearts. Or again, inverting the argument, they say with
sufficient plausibility that the sins and crimes of the King are
acknowledged facts of history; that from so bad a man no good thing could
ever rise; that Henry was a visible servant of the devil, and therefore
the Reformation, of which he was the instrument, was the devil's work. If
the picture drawn of him by his Catholic contemporaries is correct, the
inference is irresistible. That picture, however, was drawn by those whose
faith he wounded and whose interests he touched, and therefore might be
regarded with suspicion. Religious animosity is fertile in calumny,
because it assumes beforehand that every charge is likely to be true in
proportion to its enormity, and Catholic writers were credulous of evil
when laid to the charge of so dangerous an adversary. But the Catholics
have not been Henry's only accusers; all sorts and sects have combined in
the general condemnation. The Anglican High Churchman is as bitter against
him as Reginald Pole himself. He admits and maintains the separation from
Rome which Henry accomplished for him; but he abhors as heartily as Pole
or Lingard the internal principles of the Reformation. He resents the
control of the clergy by the civil power. He demands the restoration of
the spiritual privileges which Henry and his parliaments took away from
them. He aspires to the recovery of ecclesiastical independence. He
therefore with equal triumph points to the blots in Henry's character, and
deepens their shade with every accusation, proved or unproved, which he
can find in contemporary records. With him, too, that a charge was alleged
at the time is evidence sufficient to entitle him to accept it as a fact.

Again, Protestant writers have been no less unsparing from an imprudent
eagerness to detach their cause from a disreputable ally. In Elizabeth's
time it was a point of honour and loyalty to believe in the innocence of
her mother. If Anne Boleyn was condemned on forged or false evidence to
make way for Jane Seymour, what appears so clearly to us must have been
far clearer to Henry and his Council; of all abominable crimes committed
by tyrannical princes there was never one more base or cowardly than
Anne's execution; and in insisting on Anne's guiltlessness they have
condemned the King, his ministers, and his parliaments. Having discovered
him to have murdered his wife, they have found him also to have been a
persecutor of the truth. The Reformation in England was at its outset
political rather than doctrinal. The avarice and tyranny of the Church
officials had galled the limbs of the laity. Their first steps were to
break the chains which fretted them, and to put a final end to the
temporal power of the clergy. Spiritual liberty came later, and came
slowly from the constitution of the English mind. Superstition had been
familiarised by custom, protected by natural reverence, and shielded from
inquiry by the peculiar horror attaching to unbelief. The nation had been
taught from immemorial time that to doubt on the mysteries of faith was
the worst crime which man could commit; and while they were willing to
discover that on their human side the clergy were but brother mortals of
questionable character, they drew a distinction between the Church as a
national institution and the doctrines which it taught. An old creed could
not yield at once. The King did much; he protected individual Lutherans to
the edge of rashness. He gave the nation the English Bible. He made
Latimer a bishop. He took away completely and for ever the power of the
prelates to punish what they called heresy _ex officio_ and on their own
authority; but the zeal of the ultra-Protestants broke loose when the
restraint was taken off; the sense of the country was offended by the
irreverence with which objects and opinions were treated which they
regarded as holy, and Parliament, which had put a bit in the mouth of the
ecclesiastical courts, was driven to a substitute in the Bill of the Six
Articles. The advanced section in popular movements is usually unwise. The
characteristic excellence of the English Reformation is, that throughout
its course it was restrained by the law, and the Six Articles Bill,
tempered as it was in the execution, was a permissible, and perhaps
useful, measure in restraint of intemperance. It was the same in Germany.
Anabaptists continued to be burnt in Saxony and Hesse long after Luther's
revolt; Calvin thought the stake a fitting penalty for doubts upon the
Trinity. John Knox, in Scotland, approved of witch-burning and sending
mass-priests to the gallows. Henry could not disregard the pronounced
feeling of the majority of the English people. He was himself but one of
them, and changed slowly as they changed. Yet Protestant tradition has
assumed that the bloody whip with six strings was an act of arbitrary
ferocity. It considers that the King could, and ought to, have advanced at
once into an understanding of the principle of toleration--toleration of
the new opinions, and a more severe repression of the old. The Puritans
and Evangelicals forgot that he had given them the English Testament. They
forgot that by setting his foot upon the bishops he had opened the pulpits
to themselves, and they classed him among the persecutors, or else joined
in the shallow laughs of the ultramontane Catholics at what they pleased
to call his inconsistency.

Thus from all sides a catena of invective has been wrapped about Henry's
character. The sensible part of the country held its tongue. The speakers
and writers were the passionate and fanatical of both persuasions, and by
them the materials were supplied for the Henry VIII. who has been brought
down to us by history, while the candid and philosophic thinkers of the
last and present centuries have accepted the traditional figure. In their
desire to be impartial they have held the balance equal between Catholics
and Protestants, inclining slightly to the Catholic side, from a wish to
conciliate a respectable body who had been unjustly maligned and
oppressed; while they have lavished invectives upon the early Reformers
violent enough to have satisfied even Pole himself, whose rhetoric has
formed the base of their declamation.

Liberal philosophy would have had a bad time of it in England, perhaps in
all Europe, if there had been no Henry VIII. to take the Pope by the
throat. But one service writers like Macaulay have undoubtedly
accomplished. They have shown that it is entirely impossible to separate
the King from his ministers--to condemn Henry and to spare Cranmer.
Protestant writers, from Burnet to Southey, have tried to save the
reforming bishops and statesmen at Henry's expense. Cranmer, and Latimer,
and Ridley have been described as saints, though their master was a
villain. But the cold impartiality of Macaulay has pointed out
unanswerably that in all Henry's most questionable acts his own ministers
and his prelates were active participants--that his Privy Council, his
parliaments, his judges on the bench, the juries empanelled to try the
victims of his tyranny, were equally his accomplices; some actively
assisting; the rest, if these acts were really criminal, permitting
themselves to be bribed or terrified into acquiescence. The leading men of
all descriptions, the nation itself, through the guilt of its
representatives, were all stained in the same detestable colours. It may
be said, indeed, that they were worse than the King himself. For the King
at least may be pleaded the coarse temptations of a brutal nature; but
what palliation can be urged for the peers and judges who sacrificed Anne
Boleyn, or More, or Fisher, according to the received hypothesis? Not even
the excuse of personal fear of an all-powerful despot. For Henry had no
Janissaries or Prætorians to defend his person or execute his orders. He
had but his hundred yeomen of the guard, not more numerous than the
ordinary followers of a second-rate noble. The Catholic leaders, who were
infuriated at his attacks upon the Church, and would if they could have
introduced foreign armies to dethrone him, insisted on his weakness as an
encouragement to an easy enterprise. Beyond those few yeomen they urged
that he had no protection save in the attachment of the subjects whom he
was alienating. What strange influence was such a king able to exercise
that he could overawe the lords and gentry of England, the learned
professions, the municipal authorities? How was it that he was able to
compel them to be the voluntary instruments of his cruelty? Strangest of
all, he seems to have needed no protection, but rather to have been
personally popular, even among those who disapproved his public policy.
The air was charged with threats of insurrection, but no conspiracy was
ever formed to kill him, like those which so often menaced the life of his
daughter. When the North was in arms in the Pilgrimage of Grace, and a
question rose among the leaders whether in the event of victory the King
was to be deposed, it was found that anyone who proposed to remove him
would be torn in pieces by the people.

Granting that Henry VIII. was, as Dickens said of him, "a spot of blood
and grease" on the page of English history, the contemporary generation of
Englishmen must have been fit subjects of such a sovereign. Every country,
says Carlyle, gets as good a government as it deserves. The England of the
Cromwells and the Cranmers, the Howards and the Fitzwilliams, the
Wriothesleys and the Pagets, seems to have been made of baser materials
than any land of which mankind has preserved a record. Roman Catholics may
fairly plead that out of such a race no spiritual reform is likely to have
arisen which could benefit any human soul. Of all the arguments which can
be alleged for the return of England to the ancient fold, this is surely
the most powerful.

Yet England shows no intention of returning. History may say what it
pleases, yet England remains tenacious of the liberties which were then
won for us, and unconscious of the disgrace attaching to them;
unconscious, also, that the version of the story which it accepts contains
anything which requires explanation. The legislation of Henry VIII., his
Privy Council, and his parliaments is the Magna Charta of the modern
world. The Act of Appeals and the Act of Supremacy asserted the national
independence, and repudiated the interference of foreign bishop, prince,
or potentate within the limits of the English empire. The clergy had held
for many centuries an _imperium in imperio_. Subject themselves to no law
but their own, they had asserted an irresponsible jurisdiction over the
souls and bodies of the people. The Act for the submission of these
persons reduced them to the common condition of subjects under the control
of the law. Popes were no longer allowed to dispense with ordinary
obligations. Clerical privileges were abolished. The spiritual courts,
with their intolerable varieties of iniquity, were swept away, or coerced
within rational limits. The religious houses were suppressed, their
enormous wealth was applied for the defence of the realm, and the worse
than Augean dunghill of abuses was cleared out with resolute hand. These
great results were accomplished in the face of papal curses, in defiance
of superstitious terrors, so despicable when bravely confronted, so
terrible while the spectre of supernatural power was still unexorcised; in
the face, too, of earthly perils which might make stout hearts shake, of
an infuriated priesthood stirring the people into rebellion, of an
exasperated Catholic Europe threatening fire and sword in the name of the
Pope. These were distinguished achievements, not likely to have been done
at all by an infamous prince and infamous ministers; yet done so well that
their work is incorporated in the constitution almost in the form in which
they left it; and this mighty revolution, the greatest and most
far-reaching in modern times, was accomplished without a civil war, by
firmness of hand, by the action of Parliament, and a resolute enforcement
of the law. Nor has the effect of Henry's legislation been confined to
England. Every great country, Catholic or Protestant, has practically
adopted its chief provisions. Popes no longer pretend a power of deposing
princes, absolving subjects from their allegiance, or selling
dispensations for offences against the law of the land. Appeals are no
longer carried from the national courts to the court of the Rota. The
papal treasury is no longer supplied by the plunder of the national
clergy, collected by resident papal officials. Bishops and convocations
have ceased to legislate above and independent of the secular authority,
and clerks who commit crimes bear the same penalties as the profane. The
high quality of the Reformation statutes is guaranteed by their endurance;
and it is hard to suppose that the politicians who conceived and carried
them out were men of base conditions. The question is not of the character
of the King. If nothing was at issue but the merits or demerits of a
single sovereign, he might be left where he lies. The question is of the
characters of the reforming leaders, who, jointly with the King, were the
authors of this tremendous and beneficent revolution. Henry in all that he
did acted with these men and through them. Is it possible to believe that
qualities so opposite as the popular theory requires existed in the same
persons? Is it possible, for instance, that Cranmer, who composed or
translated the prayers in the English Liturgy, was the miserable wretch
which Macaulay or Lingard describes? The era of Elizabeth was the
outspring of the movement which Henry VIII. commenced, and it was the
grandest period in English history. Is it credible that so invigorating a
stream flowed from a polluted fountain?

Before accepting a conclusion so disgraceful--before consigning the men
who achieved so great a victory, and risked and lost their lives in the
battle, to final execration--it is at least permissible to pause. The
difficulty can only be made light of by impatience, by prejudice, or by
want of thought. To me at any rate, who wished to discover what the real
history of the Reformation had been, it seemed so considerable, that,
dismissing the polemical invectives of later writers, I turned to the
accounts of their conduct, which had been left behind by the authors of it
themselves. Among the fortunate anomalies of the situation, Henry departed
from previous custom in holding annual parliaments. At every step which
he took, either in the rearrangement of the realm or in his own domestic
confusions, he took the Lords and Commons into his council, and ventured
nothing without their consent. The preambles of the principal statutes
contain a narrative clear and precise of the motives of everything that he
did--a narrative which at least may have been a true one, which was not
put forward as a defence, but was a mere explanation of acts which on the
surface seemed violent and arbitrary. If the explanation is correct, it
shows us a time of complications and difficulties, which, on the whole,
were successfully encountered. It shows us severe measures severely
executed, but directed to public and necessary purpose, involving no
sycophancy or baseness, no mean subservience to capricious tyranny, but
such as were the natural safeguards during a dangerous convulsion, or
remedies of accidents incidental to hereditary monarchy. The story told is
clear and distinct; pitiless, but not dishonourable. Between the lines can
be read the storm of popular passions, the beating of the national heart
when it was stirred to its inmost depths. We see established institutions
rooted out, idols overthrown, and injured worshippers exasperated to fury;
the air, as was inevitable at such a crisis, full of flying rumours, some
lies, some half lies with fragments of truth attaching to them, bred of
malice or dizzy brains, the materials out of which the popular tradition
has been built. It was no insular revolution. The stake played for was the
liberty of mankind. All Europe was watching England, for England was the
hinge on which the fate of the Reformation turned. Could it be crushed in
England, the Catholics were assured of universal victory, and therefore
tongues and pens were busy everywhere throughout Christendom, Catholic
imagination representing Henry as an incarnate Satan, for which, it must
be admitted, his domestic misadventures gave them tempting opportunities.
So thick fell the showers of calumny, that, bold as he was, he at times
himself winced under it. He complained to Charles V. of the libels
circulated about him in France and Flanders. Charles, too, had suffered in
the same way. He answered, humorously, that "if kings gave occasion to be
spoken about they would be spoken about; kings were not kings of tongues."
Henry VIII. was an easy mark for slander; but if all slanders are to pass
as true which are flung at public men whose policy provides them with an
army of calumniators, the reputation of the best of them is but a spotted
rag. The clergy were the vocal part of Europe. They had the pulpits; they
had the writing of the books and pamphlets. They had cause to hate Henry,
and they hated him with an intensity of passion which could not have been
more savage had he been the devil himself. But there are men whose enmity
is a compliment. They libelled Luther almost as freely as they libelled
the English king. I myself, after reading and weighing all that I could
find forty years ago in prints or manuscripts, concluded that the real
facts of Henry's conduct were to be found in the Statute Book and nowhere
else; that the preambles of the Acts of Parliament did actually represent
the sincere opinion about him of the educated laymen of England, who had
better opportunities of knowing the truth than we can have, and that a
modern Englishman may be allowed to follow their authority without the
imputation of paradox or folly.

With this impression, and with the Statute Book for a guide, I wrote the
opening portion of my "History of England, from the Fall of Wolsey to the
Defeat of the Armada." The published criticisms upon my work were
generally unfavourable. Catholic writers inherited the traditions and the
temper of their forefathers, and believed the catena of their own
historians. Protestants could not believe in a defence of the author of
the Six Articles Bill. Secular reviewers were easily witty at the "model
husband" whom they supposed me to be imposing upon them, and resented the
interference with a version of the story authenticated by great names
among my predecessors. The public, however, took an interest in what I had
to say. The book was read, and continues to be read; at the close of my
life, therefore, I have to go once more over the ground; and as I am still
substantially alone in maintaining an opinion considered heretical by
orthodox historians, I have to decide in what condition I am to leave my
work behind me. In the thirty-five years which have elapsed since those
early volumes appeared large additions have been made to the materials for
the history of the period. The vast collection of manuscripts in the
English Record Office, which then were only partially accessible, have
been sorted, catalogued, and calendared by the industry of my friends Mr.
Brewer and Mr. Gairdner. Private collections in great English houses have
been examined and reported on by the Historical Manuscripts Commission.
Foreign archives at Paris, Simancas, Rome, Venice, Vienna, and Brussels
have been searched to some extent by myself, but in a far larger degree by
able scholars specially appointed for the purpose. In the despatches, thus
made accessible, of the foreign ambassadors resident at Henry's court we
have the invaluable, if not impartial, comments of trained and responsible
politicians who related from day to day the events which were passing
under their eyes. Being Catholics, and representatives of Catholic
powers, they were bitterly hostile to the Reformation--hostile alike on
political grounds and religious--and therefore inclined to believe and
report the worst that could be said both of it and of its authors. But
they wrote before the traditions had become stereotyped; their accounts
are fresh and original; and, being men of the world, and writing in
confidence to their own masters, they were as veracious as their
prejudices would allow them to be. Unconsciously, too, they render another
service of infinite importance. Being in close communication with the
disaffected English peers and clergy, and engaged with them secretly in
promoting rebellion, the ministers of Charles V. reveal with extraordinary
clearness the dangers with which the Government had to deal. They make it
perfectly plain that the Act of Supremacy, with its stern and peremptory
demands, was no more than a legitimate and necessary defence against
organised treason.

It was thus inevitable that much would have to be added to what I had
already published. When a microscope is applied to the petal of a flower
or the wing of an insect, simple outlines and simple surfaces are resolved
into complex organisms with curious and beautiful details. The effect of
these despatches is precisely the same--we see with the eyes, we hear with
the ears, of men who were living parts of the scenes which they describe.
Stories afterwards elaborated into established facts we trace to their
origin in rumours of the hour; we read innumerable anecdotes, some with
the clear stamp of truth on them, many mere creations of passing wit or
malice, no more authentic than the thousands like them which circulate in
modern society, guaranteed by the positive assertions of personal
witnesses, yet visibly recognisable as lies. Through all this the reader
must pick his way and use his own judgment. He knows that many things are
false which are reported about his own eminent contemporaries. He may be
equally certain that lies were told as freely then as now. He will
probably allow his sympathies to guide him. He will accept as fact what
fits in with his creed or his theory. He will share the general
disposition to believe evil, especially about kings and great men. The
exaggerated homage paid to princes, when they are alive, has to be
compensated by suspecting the worst of them as soon as they are gone. But
the perusal of all these documents leaves the broad aspect of the story,
in my opinion, precisely where it was. It is made more interesting by the
greater fulness of particulars; it is made more vivid by the clear view
which they afford of individual persons who before were no more than
names. But I think now, as I thought forty years ago, that through the
confusions and contradictions of a stormy and angry time, the statute-book
remains the safest guide to follow. If there be any difference, it is that
actions which till explained appeared gratuitously cruel, like the
execution of Bishop Fisher, are seen beyond dispute to have been
reasonable and just. Bishop Fisher is proved by the words of the Spanish
Ambassador himself to have invited and pressed the introduction of a
foreign Catholic army into England in the Pope's interest.

Thus I find nothing to withdraw in what I then wrote, and little to alter
save in correcting some small errors of trivial moment; but, on the other
hand, I find much to add; and the question rises in what way I had better
do it, with fair consideration for those who have bought the book as it
stands. To take the work to pieces and introduce the new material into
the text or the notes will impose a necessity of buying a new copy, or of
being left with an inferior one, on the many friends who least deserve to
be so treated. I have concluded, therefore, on writing an additional
volume, where such parts of the story as have had important light thrown
upon them can be told over again in ampler form. The body of the history I
leave as it stands. It contains what I believe to be a true account of the
time, of the immediate causes which brought about the changes of the
sixteenth century, and of the characters and principles of the actors in
them. I have only to fill up certain deficiencies and throw light into
places hitherto left dark. For the rest, I do not pretend to impartiality.
I believe the Reformation to have been the greatest incident in English
history; the root and source of the expansive force which has spread the
Anglo-Saxon race over the globe, and imprinted the English genius and
character on the constitution of mankind. I am unwilling to believe more
evil than I can help of my countrymen who accomplished so beneficent a
work, and in a book written with such convictions the mythical element
cannot be wholly wanting. Even things which immediately surround us,
things which we see and touch, we do not perceive as they are; we perceive
only our own sensations, and our sensations are a combined result of
certain objects and of the faculties which apprehend them. Something of
ourselves must always be intermixed before knowledge can reach us; in
every conclusion which we form, in every conviction which is forced upon
us, there is still a subjective element. It is so in physical science. It
is so in art. It is so in our speculations on our own nature. It is so in
religion. It is so even in pure mathematics. The curved and rectilineal
figures on which we reason are our own creation, and have no existence
exterior to the reasoning mind. Most of all is it so in history, where we
have no direct perceptions to help us, but are dependent on the narratives
of others whose beliefs were necessarily influenced by their personal
dispositions. The first duty of an historian is to be on his guard against
his own sympathies; but he cannot wholly escape their influence. In
judging of the truth of particular statements, the conclusion which he
will form must be based partly upon evidence and partly upon what he
conceives to be likely or unlikely. In a court of justice, where witnesses
can be cross-examined, uncertain elements can in some degree be
eliminated; yet, after all care is taken, judges and juries have been
often blinded by passion and prejudice. When we have nothing before us but
rumours set in circulation, we know not by whom or on what authority, and
we are driven to consider probabilities, the Protestant, who believes the
Reformation to have been a victory of truth over falsehood, cannot come to
the same conclusion as the Catholic, who believes it to have been a curse,
or perhaps to the same conclusion as the indifferent philosopher, who
regards Protestant and Catholic alike with benevolent contempt. For
myself, I can but say that I have discriminated with such faculty as I
possess. I have kept back nothing. I have consciously distorted nothing
which conflicts with my own views. I have accepted what seems sufficiently
proved. I have rejected what I can find no support for save in hearsay or
prejudice. But whether accepting or rejecting, I have endeavoured to
follow the rule that incidents must not be lightly accepted as authentic
which are inconsistent with the universal laws of human nature, and that
to disprove a calumny it is sufficient to show that there is no valid
witness for it.

Finally, I do not allow myself to be tempted into controversy with
particular writers whose views disagree with my own. To contradict in
detail every hostile version of Henry VIII.'s or his ministers' conduct
would be as tedious as it would be irritating and unprofitable. My censors
have been so many that a reply to them all is impossible, and so
distinguished that a selection would be invidious. Those who wish for
invectives against the King, or Cranmer, or Cromwell, can find them
everywhere, from school manuals to the grave works of elaborate
historians. For me, it is enough to tell the story as it presents itself
to my own mind, and to leave what appears to me to be the truth to speak
for itself.

The English nation throughout their long history have borne an honourable
reputation. Luther quotes a saying of Maximilian that there were three
real sovereigns in Europe--the Emperor, the King of France, and the King
of England. The Emperor was a king of kings. If he gave an order to the
princes of the Reich, they obeyed or disobeyed as they pleased. The King
of France was a king of asses. He ordered about his people at his will,
and they obeyed like asses. The King of England was king of a loyal nation
who obeyed him with heart and mind as loyal and faithful subjects. This
was the character borne in the world by the fathers of the generation whom
popular historians represent as having dishonoured themselves by
subserviency to a bloodthirsty tyrant. It is at least possible that
popular historians have been mistaken, and that the subjects of Henry
VIII. were neither much better nor much worse than those who preceded or
came after them.




CHAPTER I.

Prospects of a disputed succession to the crown--Various claimants--
Catherine incapable of having further children--Irregularity of her
marriage with the King--Papal dispensations--First mention of the
divorce--Situation of the Papacy--Charles V.--Policy of Wolsey--
Anglo-French alliance--Imperial troops in Italy--Appeal of the Pope--
Mission of Inigo de Mendoza--The Bishop of Tarbes--Legitimacy of the
Princess Mary called in question--Secret meeting of the Legates' court--
Alarms of Catherine--Sack of Rome by the Duke of Bourbon--Proposed reform
of the Papacy--The divorce promoted by Wolsey--Unpopular in England--
Attempts of the Emperor to gain Wolsey.


In the year 1526 the political prospects of England became seriously
clouded. A disputed succession had led in the previous century to a
desperate civil war. In that year it became known in private circles that
if Henry VIII. was to die the realm would again be left without a certain
heir, and that the strife of the Roses might be renewed on an even more
distracting scale. The sons who had been born to Queen Catherine had died
in childbirth or had died immediately after it. The passionate hope of the
country that she might still produce a male child who would survive had
been constantly disappointed, and now could be entertained no longer. She
was eight years older than her husband. She had "certain diseases" which
made it impossible that she should be again pregnant, and Henry had for
two years ceased to cohabit with her. He had two children still
living--the Princess Mary, Catherine's daughter, then a girl of eleven,
and an illegitimate son born in 1519, the mother being a daughter of Sir
John Blount, and married afterwards to Sir Gilbert Talboys. By
presumptive law the Princess was the next heir; but no woman had ever sat
on the throne of England alone and in her own right, and it was doubtful
whether the nation would submit to a female sovereign. The boy, though
excluded by his birth from the prospect of the crown, was yet brought up
with exceptional care, called a prince by his tutors, and probably
regarded by his father as a possible successor should his sister go the
way of her brothers. In 1525, after the King had deliberately withdrawn
from Catherine, he was created Duke of Richmond--a title of peculiar
significance, since it had been borne by his grandfather, Henry VII.--and
he was granted precedence over the rest of the peerage. Illegitimacy was a
serious, but, it might be thought, was not an absolute, bar. The Conqueror
had been himself a bastard. The Church, by its habits of granting
dispensations for irregular marriages or of dissolving them on pleas of
affinity or consanguinity or other pretext, had confused the distinction
between legitimate and illegitimate. A Church Court had illegitimatised
the children of Edward IV. and Elizabeth Grey, on the ground of one of
Edward's previous connections; yet no one regarded the princes murdered in
the Tower as having been illegitimate in reality; and to prevent disputes
and for an adequate object, the Duke of Richmond, had he grown to manhood,
might, in the absence of other claims, have been recognised by Parliament.
But the Duke was still a child, and might die as Henry's other sons had
died; and other claims there were which, in the face of the bar sinister,
could not fail to be asserted. James V. of Scotland was next in blood,
being the son of Henry's eldest sister, Margaret. There were the Greys,
inheriting from the second sister, Mary. Outside the royal house there
were the still popular representatives of the White Rose, the Marquis of
Exeter, who was Edward IV.'s grandson; the Countess of Salisbury, daughter
of Edward's brother the Duke of Clarence, and sister of the murdered Earl
of Warwick; and Henry's life was the only obstacle between the collision
of these opposing pretensions. James, it was quite certain, would not be
allowed to succeed without a struggle. National rivalry forbade it. Yet it
was no less certain that he would try, and would probably be backed by
France. There was but one escape from convulsions which might easily be
the ruin of the realm. The King was in the flower of his age, and might
naturally look for a Prince of Wales to come after him if he was married
to a woman capable of bearing one. It is neither unnatural nor, under the
circumstances, a matter to be censured if he and others began to reflect
upon the peculiar character of his connection with Catherine of Aragon. It
is not sufficiently remembered that the marriage of a widow with her
husband's brother was then, as it is now, forbidden by the laws of all
civilised countries. Such a marriage at the present day would be held
_ipso facto_ invalid and not a marriage at all. An irregular power was
then held to rest with the successors of St. Peter to dispense, under
certain conditions, with the inhibitory rules. The popes are now
understood to have never rightly possessed such an authority, and
therefore, according to modern law and sentiment, Henry and Catherine
never were husband and wife at all. At the time it was uncertain whether
the dispensing power extended so far as to sanction such a union, and when
the discussion rose upon it the Roman canonists were themselves divided.
Those who maintained the widest view of the papal faculty yet agreed that
such a dispensation could only be granted for urgent cause, such as to
prevent foreign wars or internal seditions, and no such cause was alleged
to have existed when Ferdinand and Henry VII. arranged the marriage
between their children. The dispensation had been granted by Pope Julius
with reluctance, had been acted upon after considerable hesitation, and
was of doubtful validity, since the necessary conditions were absent. The
marriages of kings were determined with little reference to the personal
affection of the parties. Between Henry and Catherine there was probably
as much and as little personal attachment as there usually is in such
cases. He respected and perhaps admired her character; but she was not
beautiful, she was not attractive, while she was as proud and intractable
as her mother Isabella. Their union had been settled by the two fathers to
cement the alliance between England and Spain. Such connections rest on a
different foundation from those which are voluntarily entered into between
private persons. What is made up for political reasons may pardonably be
dissolved when other reasons of a similar kind require it; and when it
became clear that Catherine could never bear another child, that the
penalty threatened in the Levitical law against marriages of this precise
kind had been literally enforced in the death of the male offspring, and
that civil war was imminent in consequence upon the King's death, Henry
may have doubted in good faith whether she had ever been his wife at
all--whether, in fact, the marriage was not of the character which
everyone would now allow to attach to similar unions. Had there been a
Prince of Wales, the question would never have arisen, and Henry, like
other kings, would have borne his fate. But there was no prince, and the
question had risen, and there was no reason why it should not. There was
no trace at the outset of an attachment to another woman. If there had
been, there would be little to condemn; but Anne Boleyn, when it was first
mooted, was no more to the King than any other lady of the court. He
required a wife who could produce a son to secure the succession. The
powers which had allowed an irregular marriage could equally dissolve it,
and the King felt that he had a right to demand a familiar concession
which other sovereigns had often applied for in one form or another, and
rarely in vain.

Thus as early as 1526 certainly, and probably as much as a year before,
Cardinal Wolsey had been feeling his way at Rome for a separation between
Henry and Catherine. On September 7 in that year the Bishop of Bath, who
was English Ambassador at Paris, informed the Cardinal of the arrival
there of a confidential agent of Pope Clement VII. The agent had spoken to
the Bishop on this especial subject, and had informed him that there would
be difficulties about it.[1] The "blessed divorce"--_benedictum divorcium_
the Bishop calls it--had been already under consideration at Rome. The
difficulties were not specified, but the political features of the time
obliged Clement to be circumspect, and it was these that were probably
referred to. Francis I. had been defeated and taken prisoner by the
Imperialists at Pavia. He had been carried to Spain, and had been released
at Henry's intercession, under severe conditions, to which he had
reluctantly consented, and his sons had been left at Madrid as hostages
for the due fulfilment of them. The victorious army, half Spanish, half
German, remained under the Duke of Bourbon to complete the conquest of
Italy; and Charles V., with his already vast dominions and a treasury
which the world believed to be inexhaustibly supplied from the gold mines
of the New World, seemed advancing to universal empire.

France in the preceding centuries had been the hereditary enemy of
England; Spain and Burgundy her hereditary friends. The marriage of
Catherine of Aragon had been a special feature of the established
alliance. She was given first to Prince Arthur, and then to Henry, as a
link in the confederacy which was to hold in check French ambition. Times
were changing. Charles V. had been elected emperor, largely through
English influence; but Charles was threatening to be a more serious danger
to Europe than France had been. The Italian princes were too weak to
resist the conqueror of Pavia. Italy once conquered, the Papacy would
become a dependency of the empire, and, with Charles's German subjects in
open revolt against it, the Church would lose its authority, and the
organisation of the Catholic world would fall into hopeless decrepitude.
So thought Wolsey, the most sharp-sighted of English ministers. He
believed that the maintenance of the Papacy was the best defence of order
and liberty. The only remedy which he could see was a change of partners.
England held the balance between the great rival powers. If the English
alliance could be transferred from the Empire to France, the Emperor could
be held in check, and his supposed ambition neutralised. Wolsey was
utterly mistaken; but the mistake was not an unnatural one. Charles, busy
with his Italian wars, had treated the Lutheran schism with suspicious
forbearance. Notwithstanding his Indian ingots his finances were
disordered. Bourbon's lansquenets had been left to pay themselves by
plunder. They had sacked monasteries, pillaged cathedral plate, and
ravished nuns with irreverent ferocity. The estates of the Church had been
as little spared by them as Lombardy; and to Clement VII. the invasion was
another inroad of barbarians, and Bourbon a second Attila. What Bourbon's
master meant by it, and what he might intend to do, was as uncertain to
Clement as perhaps it was to Charles himself. In the prostrate, degraded,
and desperate condition into which the Church was falling, any resolution
was possible. To the clearest eyes in Europe the Papacy seemed tottering
to its fall, and Charles's hand, if he chose to raise it, might
precipitate the catastrophe. To ask a pope at such a time to give mortal
offence to the Spanish nation by agreeing to the divorce of Catherine of
Aragon was to ask him to sign his death-warrant. No wonder, therefore,
that he found difficulties. Yet it was to France and England that Clement
had to look for help in his extremities. The divorce perhaps had as yet
been no more than a suggestion, a part of a policy which was still in its
infancy. It could wait at any rate for a more convenient season. Meantime
he sent his secretary, Sanga, to Paris to beg aid; and to Henry personally
he made a passionate appeal, imploring him not to desert the Apostolic See
in its hour of extreme need. He apologised for his importunacy, but he
said he hoped that history would not have to record that Italy had been
devastated in the time of Clement VII. to the dishonour of the King and of
Wolsey. If France and England failed him, he would himself be ruined. The
Emperor would be universal monarch. They would open their eyes at last,
but they would open them too late. So piteous was the entreaty that Henry
when he read the Pope's letter burst into tears.[2] Clement had not been
idle. He had brought his own small army into the field to oppose Bourbon;
he joined the Italian League, and prepared to defend himself. He was
called the father of Christendom, yet he was at open war with the most
Catholic king. But Wolsey reasonably considered that unless the Western
powers interfered the end would come.

If England was to act, she could act only in alliance with France. The
change of policy was ill understood, and was not popular among Henry's
subjects. The divorce as yet had not been spoken of. No breath of such a
purpose had gone abroad. But English sentiment was imperial, and could
endure with equanimity even the afflictions of a pope. The King was more
papal than his people; he allowed Wolsey to guide him, and negotiations
were set on foot at once for a special treaty with France, one of the
conditions of which was to be the marriage of the Princess Mary--allotted
like a card in a game--either to Francis or to one of his sons; another
condition being that the English crown should be settled upon her should
Henry die without a legitimate son. Sir John Russell was simultaneously
despatched to Rome with money to help the Pope in paying his troops and
garrisoning the city. The ducats and the "kind words" which accompanied
them "created incredible joy," encouraged his Holiness to reject unjust
conditions which had been offered, and restored him, if for the moment
only, "from death to life."[3] If Russell described correctly what he saw
in passing through Italy, Clement had good cause for anxiety. "The
Swabians and Spaniards," he wrote, "had committed horrible atrocities.
They had burnt houses to the value of two hundred million ducats, with all
the churches, images, and priests that fell into their hands. They had
compelled the priests and monks to violate the nuns. Even where they were
received without opposition they had burned the place; they had not spared
the boys, and they had carried off the girls; and whenever they found the
Sacrament of the Church they had thrown it into a river or into the vilest
place they could find. If God did not punish such cruelty and wickedness,
men would infer that He did not trouble Himself about the affairs of this
world."[4]

The news from Italy gave a fresh impulse to Wolsey's policy and the
Anglo-French Alliance, which was pushed forward in spite of popular
disapproval. The Emperor, unable to pay, and therefore unable to control,
his troops, became himself alarmed. He found himself pressed into a course
which was stimulating the German revolt against the Papacy, and he
professed himself anxious to end the war. Inigo de Mendoza, the Bishop of
Burgos, was despatched to Paris to negotiate for a general pacification.
From Paris he was to proceed to London to assure Henry of the Emperor's
inalienable friendship, and above all things to gain over Wolsey by the
means which experience had shown to be the nearest way to Wolsey's heart.
The great Cardinal was already Charles's pensionary, but the pension was
several years in arrear. Mendoza was to tell him not only that the
arrears should be immediately paid up, but that a second pension should be
secured to him on the revenues of Milan, and that the Emperor would make
him a further grant of 6,000 ducats annually out of the income of Spanish
bishoprics. No means was to be spared to divert the hostility of so
dangerous an enemy.[5]

Wolsey was not to be so easily gained. He had formed large schemes which
he did not mean to part with, and in the matter of pensions Francis I. was
as liberal in promises as Charles. The Pope's prospects were brightening.
Besides the English money, he had improved his finances by creating six
new cardinals, and making 240,000 crowns out of the disposition of these
sacred offices.[6] A French embassy, with the Bishop of Tarbes at its
head, came to England to complete the treaty with Henry in the Pope's
defence. Demands were to be made upon the Emperor; if those demands were
refused, war was to follow, and the cement of the alliance was to be the
marriage of Mary with a French prince. It is likely that other secret
projects were in view also of a similar kind. The marriage of Henry with
Catherine had been intended to secure the continuance of the alliance with
Spain. Royal ladies were the counters with which politicians played; and
probably enough there were thoughts of placing a French princess in
Catherine's place. However this may be, the legality of the King's
marriage with his nominal queen was suddenly and indirectly raised in the
discussion of the terms of the treaty, when the Bishop of Tarbes inquired
whether it was certain that Catherine's daughter was legitimate.

Mr. Brewer, the careful and admirable editor of the "Foreign and Domestic
Calendar of State Papers," doubts whether the Bishop did anything of the
kind. I cannot agree with Mr. Brewer. The Bishop of Tarbes was among the
best-known diplomatists in Europe. He was actively concerned during
subsequent years in the process of the divorce case in London, in Paris,
and at Rome. The expressions which he used on this occasion were publicly
appealed to by Henry in his addresses to the peers and to the country, in
the public pleas which he laid before the English prelates, in the various
repeated defences which he made for his conduct. It is impossible that the
Bishop should have been ignorant of the use which was made of his name,
and impossible equally to suppose that he would have allowed his name to
be used unfairly. The Bishop of Tarbes was unquestionably the first person
to bring the question publicly forward. It is likely enough, however, that
his introduction of so startling a topic had been privately arranged
between himself and Wolsey as a prelude to the further steps which were
immediately to follow. For the divorce had by this time been finally
resolved on as part of a general scheme for the alteration of the balance
of power. The domestic reasons for it were as weighty as ever were alleged
for similar separations. The Pope's hesitation, it might be assumed, would
now be overcome, since he had flung himself for support upon England and
France, and his relations with the Emperor could hardly be worse than they
were.

The outer world, and even the persons principally concerned, were taken
entirely by surprise. For the two years during which it had been under
consideration the secret had been successfully preserved. Not a hint had
reached Catherine herself, and even when the match had been lighted by
the Bishop of Tarbes the full meaning of it does not seem to have occurred
to her. Mendoza, on his arrival in England, had found her disturbed; she
was irritated at the position which had been given to the Duke of
Richmond; she was angry, of course, at the French alliance; she complained
that she was kept in the dark about public affairs; she was exerting
herself to the utmost among the friends of the imperial connection to
arrest Wolsey's policy and maintain the ancient traditions; but of the
divorce she had not heard a word. It was to come upon her like a
thunderstroke.[7]

Before the drama opens a brief description will not be out of place of the
two persons who were to play the principal parts on the stage, as they
were seen a year later by Ludovico Falieri, the Venetian ambassador in
England. Of Catherine his account is brief.

"The Queen is of low stature and rather stout; very good and very
religious; speaks Spanish, French, Flemish, and English; more beloved by
the Islanders than any queen that has ever reigned; about forty-five years
old, and has been in England thirty years. She has had two sons and one
daughter. Both the sons died in infancy. One daughter survives."

On the King, Falieri is more elaborate.

"In the 8th Henry such beauty of mind and body is combined as to surprise
and astonish. Grand stature, suited to his exalted position, showing the
superiority of mind and character; a face like an angel's, so fair it is;
his head bald like Cæsar's, and he wears a beard, which is not the English
custom. He is accomplished in every manly exercise, sits his horse well,
tilts with his lance, throws the quoit, shoots with his bow excellent
well; he is a fine tennis player, and he practises all these gifts with
the greatest industry. Such a prince could not fail to have cultivated
also his character and his intellect. He has been a student from his
childhood; he knows literature, philosophy, and theology; speaks and
writes Spanish, French, and Italian, besides Latin and English. He is
kind, gracious, courteous, liberal, especially to men of learning, whom he
is always ready to help. He appears religious also, generally hears two
masses a day, and on holy days High Mass besides. He is very charitable,
giving away ten thousand gold ducats annually among orphans, widows, and
cripples."[8]

Such was the King, such the Queen, whom fate and the preposterous
pretensions of the Papacy to dispense with the established marriage laws
had irregularly mated, and whose separation was to shake the European
world. Pope Clement complained in subsequent years that the burden of
decision should have been thrown in the first instance upon himself. If
the King had proceeded at the outset to try the question in the English
courts; if a judgment had been given unfavourable to the marriage, and had
he immediately acted upon it, Queen Catherine might have appealed to the
Holy See; but accomplished facts were solid things. Her case might have
been indefinitely protracted by legal technicalities till it died of
itself. It would have been a characteristic method of escape out of the
difficulty, and it was a view which Wolsey himself perhaps at first
entertained. He knew that the Pope was unwilling to take the first step.

On the 17th of May, 1527, after a discussion of the Treaty with France, he
called a meeting of his Legatine court at York Place. Archbishop Warham
sate with him as assessor. The King attended, and the Cardinal, having
stated that a question had arisen on the lawfulness of his marriage,
enquired whether the King, for the sake of public morals and the good of
his own soul, would allow the objections to be examined into. The King
assented, and named a proctor. The Bull of Julius II. was introduced and
considered. Wolsey declared that in a case so intricate the canon lawyers
must be consulted, and he asked for the opinions of the assembled bishops.
The bishops, one only excepted, gave dubious answers. The aged Bishop of
Rochester, reputed the holiest and wisest of them, said decidedly that the
marriage was good, and the Bull which legalised it sufficient.

These proceedings were not followed up, but the secrecy which had hitherto
been observed was no longer possible, and Catherine and her friends learnt
now for the first time the measure which was in contemplation. Mendoza,
writing on the day following the York Place meeting to the Emperor,
informed him, as a fact which he had learnt on reliable authority, that
Wolsey, for a final stroke of wickedness, was scheming to divorce the
Queen. She was so much alarmed that she did not venture herself to speak
of it, but it was certain that the lawyers and bishops had been invited to
sign a declaration that, being his brother's widow, she could not be the
wife of the King. The Pope, she was afraid, might be tempted to take part
against her, or the Cardinal himself might deliver judgment as Papal
Legate. Her one hope was in the Emperor. The cause of the action taken
against her was her fidelity to the Imperial interests. Nothing as yet
had been made formally public, and she begged that the whole matter might
be kept as private as possible.[9]

That the Pope would be willing, if he dared, to gratify Henry at Charles's
expense was only too likely. The German Lutherans and the German Emperor
were at the moment his most dangerous enemies. France and England were the
only Powers who seemed willing to assist him, and a week before the
meeting of Wolsey's court he had experienced in the most terrible form
what the imperial hostility might bring upon him. On the 7th of that same
month of May the army of the Duke of Bourbon had taken Rome by storm. The
city was given up to pillage. Reverend cardinals were dragged through the
streets on mules' backs, dishonoured and mutilated. Convents of nuns were
abandoned to the licentious soldiery. The horrors of the capture may have
been exaggerated, but it is quite certain that to holy things or holy
persons no respect was paid, and that the atrocities which in those days
were usually perpetrated in stormed towns were on this occasion eminently
conspicuous. The unfortunate Pope, shut up in the Castle of St. Angelo,
looked down from its battlements upon scenes so dreadful that it must have
appeared as if the Papacy and the Church itself had been overtaken by the
final judgment. We regard the Spaniards as a nation of bigots, we consider
it impossible that the countrymen of Charles and Philip could have been
animated by any such bitterness against the centre of Catholic
Christendom. Charles himself is not likely to have intended the
humiliation of the Holy See. But Clement had reason for his misgivings,
and Wolsey's policy was not without excuse. Lope de Soria was Charles's
Minister at Genoa, and Lope de Soria's opinions, freely uttered, may have
been shared by many a Catholic besides himself. On the 25th of May, a
fortnight after the storm, he wrote to his master the following noticeable
letter:--

"The sack of Rome must be regarded as a visitation from God, who permits
his servant the Emperor to teach his Vicar on earth and other Christian
princes that their wicked purposes shall be defeated, the unjust wars
which they have raised shall cease, peace be restored to Christendom, the
faith be exalted, and heresy extirpated.... Should the Emperor think that
the Church of God is not what it ought to be, and that the Pope's temporal
power emboldens him to promote war among Christian princes, I cannot but
remind your Majesty that it will not be a sin, but a meritorious action,
to reform the Church; so that the Pope's authority be confined exclusively
to his own spiritual affairs, and temporal affairs to be left to Cæsar,
since by right what is God's belongs to God, and what is Cæsar's to Cæsar.
I have been twenty-eight years in Italy, and I have observed that the
Popes have been the sole cause of all the wars and miseries during that
time. Your Imperial Majesty, as Supreme Lord on earth, is bound to apply a
remedy to that evil."[10]

Heretical English and Germans were not the only persons who could
recognise the fitness of the secular supremacy of princes over popes and
Churches. Such thoughts must have passed through the mind of Charles
himself, and of many more besides him. De Soria's words might have been
dictated by Luther or Thomas Cromwell. Had the Emperor at that moment
placed himself at the head of the Reformation, all later history would
have been different. One statesman at any rate had cause to fear that this
might be what was about to happen. Wolsey was the embodiment of everything
most objectionable and odious to the laity in the ecclesiastical
administration of Europe. To defend the Papacy and to embarrass Charles
was the surest method of protecting himself and his order. The divorce was
an incident in the situation, but not the least important. Catherine
represented the Imperialist interest in England. To put her away was to
make the breach with her countrymen and kindred irreparable. He took upon
himself to assure the King that after the last outrage the Pope would
agree to anything that France and England demanded of him, and would trust
to his allies to bear him harmless. That the divorce was a thing
reasonable in itself to ask for, and certain to be conceded by any pope
who was free to act on his own judgment, was assumed as a matter of
course. Sir Gregory Casalis, the English agent at Rome, was instructed to
obtain access to Clement in St. Angelo, to convey to him the indignation
felt in England at his treatment, and then to insist on the illegality of
the King's relations with Catherine, on the King's own scruples of
conscience, and on the anxiety of his subjects that there should be a male
heir to the crown. The "urgent cause" such as was necessary to be produced
when exceptional actions were required of the popes was the imminence or
even certainty of civil war if no such heir was born.

Catherine meanwhile had again communicated with Mendoza. She had spoken to
her husband, and Henry, since further reticence was impossible, had told
her that they had been living in mortal sin, and that a separation was
necessary. A violent scene had followed, with natural tears and
reproaches.[11] The King endeavoured to console her, but it was not a
matter where consolation could avail. Wolsey advised him to deal with her
gently, till it was seen what the Pope and the King of France would do in
the matter. Wolsey himself was to go immediately to Paris to see Francis,
and consult with him on the measures necessary to be taken in consequence
of the Pope's imprisonment. It was possible that Clement, finding himself
helpless, might become a puppet in the Emperor's hands. Under such
circumstances he could not be trusted by other countries with the
spiritual authority attaching to his office, and schemes were being formed
for some interim arrangement by which France and England were to
constitute themselves into a separate patriarchate, with Wolsey at its
head as Archbishop of Rouen. Mendoza says that this proposal had been
actually made to Wolsey by the French Ambassador.[12] In Spain it was even
believed to be contemplated as a permanent modification of the
ecclesiastical system. The Imperial Councillors at Valladolid told the
Venetian Minister that the Cardinal intended to separate the Churches of
England and France from that of Rome, saying that as the Pope was a
prisoner he was not to be obeyed, and that even if the Emperor released
him, he still would not be free unless his fortresses and territory now in
the Emperor's hands were restored to him.[13] Wolsey had reason for
anxiety, for Catherine and Mendoza were writing to the Emperor insisting
that he should make the Pope revoke Wolsey's Legatine powers.

In spite of efforts to keep secret the intended divorce, it soon became
known throughout England. The Queen was personally popular. The nation
generally detested France, and looked on the Emperor as their hereditary
friend. The reasons for the divorce might influence statesmen, but did not
touch the body of the people. They naturally took the side of an injured
wife, and if Mendoza can be believed (and there is no reason why he should
not be believed), the first impression was decidedly unfavourable to a
project which was regarded as part of the new policy. Mendoza made the
most of the opposition. He told the Emperor that if six or seven thousand
men were landed in Cornwall, forty thousand Englishmen would rise and join
them.[14] He saw Wolsey--he reasoned with him, and when he found reason
ineffectual, he named the bribe which the Emperor was willing to give.
Knowing what Francis was bidding, he baited his hook more liberally. He
spoke of the Papacy: "how the chair was now in the Emperor's hands, and
the Emperor, if Wolsey deserved it, would no doubt promote his elevation."
The glittering temptation was unavailing. The papal chair had been
Wolsey's highest ambition, but he remained unmoved. He said that he had
served the Emperor in the past out of disinterested regard. He still
trusted that the Emperor would replace the Pope and restore the Church.
Mendoza's answer was not reassuring to an English statesman. He said that
both the spiritual and temporal powers were now centred in his master, and
he advised Wolsey, if he desired an arrangement, to extend his journey
from France, go on to Spain, and see the Emperor in person. It was
precisely this _centering_ which those who had charge of English liberties
had a right to resent. Divorce or no divorce, they could not allow a power
possessed of so much authority in the rest of Christendom to be the
servant of a single prince. The divorce was but an illustration of the
situation, and such a Papacy as Mendoza contemplated would reduce England
and all Catholic Europe into fiefs of the Empire.




CHAPTER II.

Mission of Wolsey to Paris--Visits Bishop Fisher on the way--Anxieties of
the Emperor--Letter of the Emperor to Henry VIII.--Large offers to
Wolsey--Address of the French Cardinals to the Pope--Anne Boleyn chosen by
Henry to succeed Catherine--Surprise and displeasure of Wolsey--Fresh
attempts of the Emperor to bribe him--Wolsey forced to continue to
advocate the divorce--Mission of Dr. Knight to Rome--The Pope at Orvieto--
The King applies for a dispensation to make a second marriage--Language of
the dispensation demanded--Inferences drawn from it--Alleged intrigue
between the King and Mary Boleyn.


It was believed at the time--and it was the tradition afterwards--that
Wolsey, in his mission to Paris, intended to replace Catherine by a French
princess, the more surely to commit Francis to the support of Henry in the
divorce, and to strengthen the new alliance. Nothing can be inherently
more likely. The ostensible reason, however, was to do away with any
difficulties which might have been suggested by the objection of the
Bishop of Tarbes to the legitimacy of the Princess Mary. If illegitimate,
she would be no fitting bride for the Duke of Orleans. But she had been
born _bonâ fide parentum_. There was no intention of infringing her
prospective rights or of altering her present position. Her rank and title
were to be secured to her in amplest measure.

The Cardinal went upon his journey with the splendour attaching to his
office and befitting a churchman who was aspiring to be the spiritual
president of the two kingdoms. On his way to the coast he visited two
prelates whose support to his policy was important. Archbishop Warham had
been cold about the divorce, if not openly hostile. Wolsey found him "not
much changed from his first fashion," but admitting that, although it
might be unpleasant to the Queen, truth and justice must prevail. Bishop
Fisher was a more difficult subject. He had spoken in the Legate's court
in Catherine's favour. It was from him, as the King supposed, that
Catherine herself had learnt what was impending over her. Wolsey called at
his palace as he passed through Rochester. He asked the Bishop plainly if
he had been in communication with the Queen. The Bishop, after some
hesitation, confessed that the Queen had sought his advice, and said that
he had declined to give an opinion without the King's command. Before
Wolsey left London, at a last interview at York Place, the King had
directed him to explain "the whole matter" to the Bishop. He went through
the entire history, mentioned the words of the Bishop of Tarbes, and
discussed the question which had risen upon it, on account of which he had
been sent into France. Finally, he described the extreme violence with
which Catherine had received the intelligence.

The Bishop greatly blamed the conduct of the Queen, and said he thought
that if he might speak to her he might bring her to submission. He agreed,
or seemed to agree, that the marriage had been irregular, though he did
not himself think that it could now be broken. Others of the bishops, he
thought, agreed with him; but he was satisfied that the King meant nothing
against the laws of God, and would be fully justified in submitting his
misgivings to the Pope.[15]

Mendoza's and the Queen's letters had meanwhile been despatched to Spain,
to add to the anxieties which were overwhelming the Emperor. Nothing
could have been less welcome at such a juncture than a family quarrel with
his uncle of England, whose friendship he was still hoping to retain. The
bird that he had caged at Rome was no convenient prisoner. The capture of
Rome had not been ordered by himself, though politically he was obliged to
maintain it. The time did not suit for the ambitious Church reforms of
Lope de Soria. Peace would have to be made with the Pope on some moderate
conditions. His own Spain was hardly quieted after the revolt of the
_Comunidades_. Half Germany was in avowed apostasy from the Church of
Rome. The Turks were overrunning Hungary, and sweeping the Mediterranean
with their pirate fleets, and the passionate and restless Francis was
watching his opportunity to revenge Pavia and attack his captor in the Low
Countries and in Italy. The great Emperor was moderate, cautious, prudent
to a fault. In a calmer season he might have been tempted to take the
Church in hand; and none understood better the condition into which it had
fallen. But he was wise enough to know that if a reform of the Papacy was
undertaken at all it must be undertaken with the joint consent of the
other Christian princes, and all his present efforts were directed to
peace. He was Catherine's natural guardian. Her position in England had
been hitherto a political security for Henry's friendship. It was his duty
and his interest to defend her, and he meant to do it; not, however, by
sending roving expeditions to land in Cornwall and raise a civil war; all
means were to be tried before that; to attempt such a thing, he well knew,
would throw Europe into a blaze. The letters found him at Valladolid. He
replied, of course, that he was shocked at a proceeding so unlooked for
and so scandalous, but he charged Mendoza to be moderate and to confine
himself to remonstrance.[16] He wrote himself to Henry--confidentially, as
from friend to friend, and ciphering his letter with his own hand. He was
unable to believe, he said, that Henry could contemplate seriously
bringing his domestic discomforts before the world. Even supposing the
marriage illegitimate--even supposing that the Pope had no power to
dispense in such cases--"it would be better and more honourable to keep
the matter secret, and to work out a remedy." He bade Mendoza remind the
King that to question the dispensing power affected the position of other
princes besides his own; that to touch the legitimacy of his daughter
would increase the difficulties with the succession, and not remove them.
He implored the King "to keep the matter secret, as he would do himself."
Meanwhile, he told Mendoza, for Catherine's comfort, that he had written
to demand a mild brief from the Pope to stop the scandal. He had requested
him, as Catherine had suggested, to revoke Wolsey's powers, or at least to
command that neither he nor any English Court should try the case. If
heard at all it must be heard before his Holiness and the Sacred
College.[17] But he could not part with the hope that he might still bring
Wolsey to his own and the Queen's side. A council of Cardinals was to meet
at Avignon to consider the Pope's captivity. The Cardinal of England was
expected to attend. Charles himself might go to Perpignan. Wolsey might
meet him there, discuss the state of Europe, and settle the King's secret
affair at the same time. Should this be impossible, he charged Mendoza
once more to leave no stone unturned to recover Wolsey's friendship. "In
our name," he said, "you will make him the following offers:--

"1. The payment of all arrears on his several pensions, amounting to 9,000
ducats annually.

"2. Six thousand additional ducats annually until such a time as a
bishoprick or other ecclesiastical endowment of the same revenue becomes
vacant in our kingdom.

"3. The Duke, who is to have Milan, to give him a Marquisate in that
Duchy, with an annual rent of 12,000 ducats, or 15,000 if the smaller sum
be not enough; the said Marquisate to be held by the Cardinal during his
life, and to pass after him to any heir whom he shall appoint."[18]

As if this was not sufficient, the Emperor paid a yet further tribute to
the supposed all-powerful Cardinal. He wrote himself to him as to his
"good friend." He said that if there was anything in his dominions which
the Cardinal wished to possess he had only to name it, as he considered
Wolsey the best friend that he had in the world.[19]

For the ministers of great countries deliberately to sell themselves to
foreign princes was the custom of the age. The measure of public virtue
which such a custom indicates was not exalted; and among the changes
introduced by the Reformation the abolition or suspension of it was not
the least beneficial. Thomas Cromwell, when he came to power, set the
example of refusal, and corruption of public men on a scale so
scandalously enormous was no more heard of. Gold, however, had flowed in
upon Wolsey in such enormous streams and from so many sources that the
Emperor's munificence and attention failed to tempt him. On reaching Paris
he found Francis bent upon war, and willing to promise anything for
Henry's assistance. The belief at the French Court was that the Emperor,
hearing that the Churches of England and France meant to decline from
their obedience to the Roman Communion, would carry the Pope to Spain;
that Clement would probably be poisoned there, and the Apostolic See would
be established permanently in the Peninsula.[20] Wolsey himself wrote
this, and believed it, or desired Henry to believe it, proving the extreme
uncertainty among the best-informed of contemporary politicians as to the
probable issue of the capture of Rome. The French Cardinals drew and sent
an address to the Pope, intimating that as long as he was in confinement
they could accept no act of his as lawful, and would not obey it. Wolsey
signed at the head of them. The Cardinals Salviati, Bourbon, Lorraine, and
the Chancellor Cardinal of Sens, signed after him.[21] The first stroke in
the game had been won by Wolsey. Had the Pope recalled his powers as
legate, an immediate schism might have followed. But a more fatal blow had
been prepared for him by his master in England. Trusting to the Cardinal's
promises that the Pope would make no difficulty about the divorce, Henry
had considered himself at liberty to choose a successor to Catherine. He
had suffered once in having allowed politics to select a wife for him.
This time he intended to be guided by his own inclination. When Elizabeth
afterwards wished to marry Leicester, Lord Sussex said she had better fix
after her own liking; there would be the better chance of the heir that
her realm was looking for. Her father fixed also after his liking in
selecting Elizabeth's mother.

Anne Boleyn was the second daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, a Norfolk knight
of ancient blood, and himself a person of some distinction in the public
service. Lady Boleyn was a Howard, daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. Anne
was born in 1507, and by birth and connection was early introduced into
the court. When a girl she was taken to Paris to be educated. In 1522 she
was brought back to England, became a lady-in-waiting, and, being a witty,
brilliant young woman, attracted and encouraged the attentions of the
fashionable cavaliers of the day. Wyatt, the poet, was among her adorers,
and the young Percy, afterwards Earl of Northumberland. It was alleged
afterwards that between her and Percy there had been a secret marriage
which had been actually consummated. That she had been involved in some
dangerous intrigue or other she herself subsequently confessed. But she
was attractive, she was witty; she drew Henry's fancy, and the fancy
became an ardent passion. Now, for the first time, in Wolsey's absence,
the Lady Anne's name appears in connection with the divorce. On the 16th
of August Mendoza informed Charles, as a matter of general belief, that if
the suit for the divorce was successful the King would marry a daughter of
Master Boleyn, whom the Emperor would remember as once ambassador at the
Imperial court.[22] There is no direct evidence that before Wolsey had
left England the King had seriously thought of Anne at all. Catherine
could have had no suspicion of it, or her jealous indignation would have
made itself heard. The Spanish Ambassador spoke of it as a new feature in
the case.

The Boleyns were Wolsey's enemies, and belonged to the growing faction
most hostile to the Church. The news as it came upon him was utterly
distasteful.[23] Anne in turn hated Wolsey, as he probably knew that she
would, and she compelled him to stoop to the disgrace of suing for her
favour. The inference is reasonable, therefore, that the King took the
step which in the event was to produce such momentous consequences when
the Cardinal was not at hand to dissuade him. He was not encouraged even
by her own family. Her father, as will be seen hereafter, was from the
first opposed to his daughter's advancement. He probably knew her
character too well. But Henry, when he had taken an idea into his head,
was not to be moved from it. The lady was not beautiful: she was rather
short than tall, her complexion was dark, her neck long, her mouth broad,
her figure not particularly good. The fascinating features were her long
flowing brown hair, a pair of effective dark eyes, and a boldness of
character which might have put him on his guard, and did not.

The immediate effect was to cool Wolsey's ardour for the divorce. His
mission in France, which opened so splendidly, eventuated in little. The
French cardinals held no meeting at Avignon. They had signed the address
to Clement, but they had not made the Cardinal of York into their
patriarch. Rouen was not added to his other preferments. Could he but have
proposed a marriage for his sovereign with the Princess of Alençon, all
might have been different, but it had fared with him as it fared with the
Earl of Warwick, whom Henry's grandfather had sent to France to woo a
bride for him, and in his absence married Elizabeth Grey. He perhaps
regretted the munificent offers of the Emperor which he had hastily
rejected, and he returned to England in the autumn to feel the
consequences of the change in his situation. Mr. Brewer labours in vain to
prove that Wolsey was unfavourable to the divorce from the beginning.
Catherine believed that he was the instigator of it. Mendoza was of the
same opinion. Unquestionably he promoted it with all his power, and made
it a part of a great policy. To maintain that he was acting thus against
his conscience and to please the King is more dishonouring to him than to
suppose that he was either the originator or the willing instrument. All,
however, was altered when Anne Boleyn came upon the stage, and she made
haste to make him feel the change. "The Legate has returned from France,"
wrote Mendoza on the 26th of October. He went to visit the King at
Richmond, and sent to ask where he could see him. The King was in his
chamber. It happened that the lady, who seemed to entertain no great
affection for the Cardinal, was in the room with the King, and before the
latter could answer the message she said for him, "Where else is the
Cardinal to come? Tell him he may come here where the King is." The Legate
felt that such treatment boded no good to him, but concealed his
resentment. "The cause," said Mendoza, "is supposed to be that the said
lady bears the Legate a grudge, for other reasons, and because she has
discovered that during his visit to France the Legate proposed to have an
alliance for the King found in that country."[24] Wolsey persuaded Mendoza
that the French marriage had been a fiction, but at once he began to
endeavour to undo his work, and prevent the dissolution of the marriage
with Catherine. He tried to procure an unfavourable opinion from the
English Bishops before legal proceedings were commenced. Mendoza, however,
doubted his stability if the King persisted in his purpose, and advised
that a papal decision on the case should be procured and forwarded as soon
as possible.[25]

The Pope's captivity, however, would destroy the value of any judgment
which he might give while he continued in durance. The Emperor, encouraged
by the intimation that Wolsey was wavering, reverted to his previous hope.
In a special memorandum of measures to be taken, the most important,
notwithstanding the refusal of the previous offers, was still thought to
be to "bribe the Cardinal." He must instantly be paid the arrears of his
pensions out of the revenues of the sees of Palencia and Badajoz. If there
was not money enough in the treasury, a further and larger pension of
twelve or fourteen thousand crowns was to be given to him out of some rich
bishopric in Castile. The Emperor admitted that he had promised the Cortes
to appoint no more foreigners to Spanish sees, but such a promise could
not be held binding, being in violation of the liberties of the Church.
Every one would see that it was for the good of the kingdom.

The renewed offer was doubtless conveyed to Wolsey, but he probably found
that he had gone too deep to retire. If he made such an effort as Mendoza
relates, he must have speedily discovered that it would be useless. He had
encouraged the King in a belief that the divorce would be granted by the
Pope as a matter of course, and the King, having made up his own mind, was
not to be moved from it. If Wolsey now drew back, the certain inference
would be that he had accepted an imperial bribe. There was no recourse,
therefore, but to go on.

While Wolsey had been hesitating, the King had, unknown to him, sent his
secretary, Dr. Knight, to Rome with directions to obtain access if
possible to the Pope, and procure the dispensation which had been already
applied for to enable him to marry a second time without the formalities
of a judgment. Such an expedient would be convenient in many ways. It
would leave Catherine's position unaffected and the legitimacy of the
Princess Mary unimpugned. Knight went. He found that without a passport he
could not even enter the city, still less be allowed an interview. "With
ten thousand crowns he could not bribe his way into St. Angelo." He
contrived, however, to have a letter introduced, which the Pope answered
by telling Knight to wait in some quiet place. He (the Pope) would "there
send him all the King's requests in as ample a form as they were desired."
Knight trusted in a short time "to have in his custody as much, perfect,
sped, and under lead, as his Highness had long time desired."[26]

Knight was too sanguine. The Emperor, finding the Pope's detention as a
prisoner embarrassing, allowed him, on the 9th of December, to escape to
Orvieto, where he was apparently at liberty; but he was only in a larger
cage, all his territories being occupied by Imperial troops, and he
himself watched by the General of the Observants, and warned at his peril
to grant nothing to Catherine's prejudice. Henry's Secretary followed him,
saw him, and obtained something which on examination proved to be
worthless. The negotiations were left again in Wolsey's hands, and were
pressed with all the eagerness of a desperate man.

Pope Clement had ceased to be a free agent. He did not look to the rights
of the case. He would gladly have pleased Henry could he have pleased him
without displeasing Charles. The case itself was peculiar, and opinions
differed on the rights and wrongs of it. The reader must be from time to
time reminded that, as the law of England has stood ever since, a marriage
with a brother's widow was not a marriage. As the law of the Church then
stood, it was not a marriage unless permitted by the Pope; and according
to the same law of England the Pope neither has, nor ever had, any
authority to dispense with the law. Therefore Henry, on the abstract
contention, was in the right. He had married Catherine under an error. The
problem was to untie the knot with as little suffering to either as the
nature of the case permitted. That the negotiations were full of
inconsistencies, evasions, and contradictions, was natural and inevitable.
To cut the knot without untying it was the only direct course, but that
all means were exhausted before the application of so violent a remedy was
rather a credit than a reproach.

The first inconsistency was in the King. He did not regard his marriage as
valid; therefore he thought himself at liberty to marry again; but he did
not wish to illegitimatise his daughter or degrade Catherine. He disputed
the validity of the dispensation of Julius II.; yet he required a
dispensation from Clement which was equally questionable to enable him to
take a second wife. The management of the case having reverted to Wolsey,
fresh instructions were sent to Sir Gregory Casalis, the regular English
agent at the Papal court, to wait on Clement. Casalis was "bid consider
how much the affair concerned the relief of the King's conscience, the
safety of his soul, the preservation of his life, the continuation of his
succession, the welfare and repose of all his subjects now and hereafter."
The Pope at Orvieto was personally accessible. Casalis was to represent to
him the many difficulties which had arisen in connection with the
marriage, and the certainty of civil war in England should the King die
leaving the succession no better provided for. He was, therefore, to
request the Pope to grant a commission to Wolsey to hear the case and to
decide it, and (perhaps as an alternative) to sign a dispensation, a draft
of which Wolsey enclosed. The language of the dispensation was peculiar.
Wolsey explained it by saying that "the King, remembering by the example
of past times what false claims [to the crown] had been put forward, to
avoid all colour or pretext of the same, desired this of the Pope as
absolutely necessary." If these two requests were conceded, Henry
undertook on his part to require the Emperor to set the Pope at liberty,
or to declare war against him if he refused.

A dispensation, which was to evade the real point at issue, yet to convey
to the King a power to take another wife, was a novelty in itself and
likely to be carefully worded. It has given occasion among modern
historians to important inferences disgraceful to everyone concerned. The
sinister meaning supposed to be obvious to modern critics could not have
been concealed from the Pope himself. Here, therefore, follow the words
which have been fastened on as for ever fatal to the intelligence and
character of Henry and his Ministers.

The Pope, after reviewing the later history of England, the distractions
caused by rival claimants of the crown, after admitting the necessity of
guarding against the designs of the ambitious, and empowering Henry to
marry again, was made to address the King in these words:[27]--

"In order to take away all occasion from evil doers, we do in the
plenitude of our power hereby suspend _hâc vice_ all canons forbidding
marriage in the fourth degree, also all canons _de impedimento publicæ
honestatis_ preventing marriage in consequence of clandestine espousals,
further all canons relating to precontracts clandestinely made but not
consummated, also all canons affecting impediments created by affinity
rising _ex illicito coitu_, in any degree even in the first, so far as the
marriage to be contracted by you, the petitioner, can be objected to or in
any wise be impugned by the same. Further, to avoid canonical objections
on the side of the woman by reason of former contract clandestinely made,
or impediment of public honesty or justice arising from such clandestine
contract, or of any affinity contracted in any degree even the first, _ex
illicito coitu_: and in the event that it has proceeded beyond the second
or third degrees of consanguinity, whereby otherwise you, the petitioner,
would not be allowed by the canons to contract marriage, we hereby license
you to take such woman for wife, and suffer you and the woman to marry
free from all ecclesiastical objections and censures."

The explanation given by Wolsey of the wording of this document is that it
was intended to preclude any objections which might be raised to the
prejudice of the offspring of a marriage in itself irregular. It was
therefore made as comprehensive as possible. Dr. Lingard, followed by Mr.
Brewer, and other writers see in it a transparent personal application to
the situation in which Henry intended to place himself in making a wife of
Anne Boleyn. Two years subsequent to the period when this dispensation was
asked for, when the question of the divorce had developed into a battle
between England and the Papacy, and the passions of Catholics and
Reformers were boiling over in recrimination and invective, the King's
plea that he was parting from Catherine out of conscience was met by
stories set floating in society that the King himself had previously
intrigued with the mother and sister of the lady whom he intended to
marry; precisely the same obstacle existed, therefore, to his marriage
with Anne, being further aggravated by incest. No attempt was ever made to
prove these charges; no particulars were given of time or place. No
witnesses were produced, nor other evidence, though to prove them would
have been of infinite importance. Queen Catherine, who if any one must
have known it if the accusation was true, never alludes to Mary Boleyn in
the fiercest of her denunciations. It was heard of only in the
conversation of disaffected priests or secret visitors to the Spanish
Ambassador, and was made public only in the manifesto of Reginald Pole,
which accompanied Paul III.'s Bull for Henry's deposition. Even this
authority, which was not much in itself, is made less by the fact that in
the first draft of "Pole's Book," sent to England to be examined in 1535,
the story is not mentioned. Evidently, therefore, Pole had not then heard
of it or did not believe it. The guilt with the mother is now abandoned as
too monstrous. The guilt with the sister is peremptorily insisted on, and
the words of the dispensation are appealed to as no longer leaving room
for doubt. To what else, it is asked, can such extraordinary expressions
refer unless to some disgraceful personal _liaison_?

The uninstructed who draw inferences of fact from the verbiage of legal
documents will discover often what are called "mare's nests." I will
request the reader to consider what this supposition involves. The
dispensation would have to be copied into the Roman registers, subject to
the inspection of the acutest canon lawyers in the world. If the meaning
is so clear to us, it must have been clear to them. We are, therefore, to
believe that Henry, when demanding to be separated from Catherine, as an
escape from mortal sin, for the relief of his conscience and the surety of
his succession, was gratuitously putting the Pope in possession of a
secret which had only to be published to extinguish him and his plea in an
outburst of scorn and laughter.

There was no need for such an acknowledgment, for the intrigue could not
be proved. It could not be required for the legitimation of the children
that were to be born; for a man of Wolsey's ability must have known that
no dispensation would be held valid that was granted after so preposterous
a confidence. It was as if a man putting in a claim for some great
property, before the case came on for trial privately informed both judge
and jury that it was based on forgery.

We are called on to explain further, why, when all Europe was shaken by
the controversy, no hint is to be found in any public document of a fact
which, if true, would be decisive; and yet more extraordinary, why the
Pope and the Curia, when driven to bay in all the exasperation of a
furious controversy, left a weapon unused which would have assured them an
easy victory. Wolsey was not a fool. Is it conceivable that he would have
composed a document so fatal and have drawn the Pope's pointed attention
to it? My credulity does not extend so far. We cannot prove a negative; we
cannot prove that Henry had not intrigued with Mary Boleyn, or with all
the ladies of his court. But the language of the dispensation cannot be
adduced as an evidence of it, unless King, Pope, and all the interested
world had parted with their senses.

As to the story itself, there is no ground for distinguishing between the
mother and the daughter. When it was first set circulating both were named
together. The mother only has been dropped, lest the improbability should
seem too violent for belief. That Mary Boleyn had been the King's mistress
before or after her own marriage is now asserted as an ascertained fact by
respectable historians--a fact sufficient, can it be proved, to cover with
infamy for ever the English separation from Rome, King, Ministers,
Parliaments, Bishops, and every one concerned with it. The effectiveness
of the weapon commends it to Catholic controversialists. I have only to
repeat that the evidence for the charge is nothing but the floating gossip
of Catholic society, never heard of, never whispered, till the second
stage of the quarrel, when it had developed into a passionate contest;
never even then alleged in a form in which it could be met and answered.
It could not have been hid from Queen Catherine if it was known to
Reginald Pole. We have many letters of Catherine, eloquent on the story of
her wrongs; letters to the Emperor, letters to the Pope; yet no word of
Mary Boleyn. What reason can be given save that it was a legend which grew
out of the temper of the time? Nothing could be more plausible than to
meet the King's plea of conscience with an allegation which made it
ridiculous. But in the public pleadings of a cause which was discussed in
every capital in Europe by the keenest lawyers and diplomatists of the
age, an accusation which, if maintained, would have been absolutely
decisive, is never alluded to in any public document till the question had
passed beyond the stage of discussion. The silence of all responsible
persons is sufficient proof of its nature. It was a mere floating calumny,
born of wind and malice.

Mr. Brewer does indeed imagine that he has discovered what he describes as
a tacit confession on Henry's part. When the Act of Appeals was before the
House of Commons which ended the papal jurisdiction in England, a small
knot of Opposition members used to meet privately to deliberate how to
oppose it. Among these one of the most active was Sir George Throgmorton,
a man who afterwards, with his brother Michael, made himself useful to
Cromwell and played with both parties, but was then against the divorce
and against all the measures which grew out of it. Throgmorton, according
to his own account, had been admitted to an interview with the King and
Cromwell. In 1537, after the Pilgrimage of Grace, while the ashes of the
rebellion were still smouldering, after Michael Throgmorton had betrayed
Cromwell's confidence and gone over to Reginald Pole, Sir George was
reported to have used certain expressions to Sir Thomas Dyngley and to two
other gentlemen, which he was called on by the Council to explain. The
letter to the King in which he replied is still extant. He said that he
had been sent for by the King after a speech on the Act of Appeals, "and
that he saw his Grace's conscience was troubled about having married his
brother's wife." He professed to have said to Dyngley that he had told the
King that if he did marry Queen Anne his conscience would be more troubled
at length, for it was thought he had meddled both with the mother and the
sister; that his Grace said: "Never with the mother," and my Lord Privy
Seal (Cromwell), standing by, said, "nor with the sister neither, so put
that out of your mind." Mr. Brewer construes this into an admission of the
King that Mary Boleyn had been his mistress, and omits, of course, by
inadvertence, that Throgmorton, being asked why he had told this story to
Dyngley, answered that "he spake it only out of vainglory, to show he was
one that durst speak for the Commonwealth." Nothing is more common than
for "vainglorious" men, when admitted to conversations with kings, to make
the most of what they said themselves, and to report not very accurately
what was said to them. Had the conversation been authentic, Throgmorton
would naturally have appealed to Cromwell's recollection. But Mr. Brewer
accepts the version of a confessed boaster as if it was a complete and
trustworthy account of what had actually passed. He does not ask himself
whether if the King or Cromwell had given their version it might not have
borne another complexion. Henry was not a safe person to take liberties
with. Is it likely that if one of his subjects, who was actively opposing
him in Parliament, had taxed him with an enormous crime, he would have
made a confession which Throgmorton had only to repeat in the House of
Commons to ruin him and his cause? Mr. Brewer should have added also that
the authority which he gave for the story was no better than Father Peto,
afterwards Cardinal Peto, as bitter an enemy of the Reformation as Pole
himself. Most serious of all, Mr. Brewer omits to mention that Throgmorton
was submitted afterwards to a severe cross-examination before a Committee
of Council, the effect of which, if he had spoken truly, could only be to
establish the authenticity of a disgraceful charge.[28]

The last evidence alleged is the confession made by Anne Boleyn, after her
condemnation, of some mystery which had invalidated her marriage with the
King and had been made the ground of an Act of Parliament. The confession
was not published, and Catholic opinion concluded, and concludes still,
that it must have been the Mary Boleyn intrigue. Catholic opinion does not
pause to inquire whether Anne could have been said to confess an offence
of the King and her sister. The cross-examination of Throgmorton turns the
conjecture into an absurdity. When asked, in 1537, whom he ever heard say
such a thing, he would have had but to appeal to the proceedings in
Parliament in the year immediately preceding.

Is it likely finally that if Throgmorton's examination proves what Mr.
Brewer thinks it proves, a record of it would have been preserved among
the official State Papers?

If all the stories current about Henry VIII. were to be discussed with as
much detail as I have allowed to this, the world would not contain the
books which should be written. An Irish lawyer told me in my youth to
believe nothing which I heard in that country which had not been sifted in
a court of justice, and only half of that. Legend is as the air
invulnerable, and blows aimed at it, if not "malicious mockery" are waste
of effort. Charges of scandalous immorality are precious to
controversialists, for if they are disproved ever so completely the stain
adheres.




CHAPTER III.

Anxiety of the Pope to satisfy the King--Fears of the Emperor--Proposed
alternatives--France and England declare war in the Pope's defence--
Campeggio to be sent to England--The King's account of the Pope's
conduct--The Pope's distress and alarm--The secret decretal--Instructions
to Campeggio.


The story returns to Orvieto. The dispensation was promised on condition
that it should not be immediately acted on.[29] Catherine having refused
to acquiesce in a private arrangement, Wolsey again pressed the Pope for a
commission to decide the cause in England, and to bind himself at the same
time not to revoke it, but to confirm any judgment which he might himself
give. "There were secret causes," he said, "which could not be committed
to writing which made such a concession imperative: certain diseases in
the Queen defying all remedy, for which, as for other causes, the King
would never again live with her as his wife."

The Pope, smarting from ill-treatment and grateful for the help of France
and England, professed himself earnestly anxious to do what Henry desired.
But he was still virtually a prisoner. He had been obliged by the General
of the Observants, when in St. Angelo, to promise to do nothing "whereby
the King's divorce might be judged in his own dominions." He pleaded for
time. He promised a commission of some kind, but he said he was undone if
action was taken upon it while the Germans and Spaniards remained in
Italy. He saw evident ruin before him, he said, but he professed to be
willing to run the hazard rather than that Wolsey should suspect him of
ingratitude. He implored the Cardinal, _cum suspiriis et lacrymis_, not to
precipitate him for ever, and precipitated he would be if, on receiving
the commission, the Cardinal at once began the process.[30] A fortnight
later Casalis described a long conversation with the Pope and Cardinals on
the course to be pursued. Henry had desired that a second Legate should be
sent from Rome to act with Wolsey. To consent to this would directly
compromise the Papal Court. Clement had no objection to the going forward
with the cause, but he did not wish to be himself responsible. He signed
an imperfect commission not inconsistent with his promise to the General
of the Observants. On this Wolsey might act or, if he preferred it, might
proceed on his own Legatine authority. For himself, instead of engaging to
confirm Wolsey's sentence, he said that no doctor could better resolve the
point at issue than the King himself. If he was resolved, said the Pope,
let him commit his cause to the Legate, marry again, follow up the trial,
and then let a public application be made for a Legate to be sent from the
Consistory. If the Queen was cited first, she would put in no answer, save
to protest against the place and judges. The Imperialists would demand a
prohibition, and then the King could not marry, or, if he did, the
offspring would be illegitimate. They would also demand a commission for
the cause to be heard at Rome, which the Pope would be unable to refuse.
But the King being actually married again, they could not ask for a
prohibition. They could only ask that the cause should be re-examined at
Rome, when the Pope would give sentence and a judgment could be passed
which would satisfy the whole world.[31] This was the Pope's own advice,
but he did not wish it to be known that it had come from himself. Casalis
might select the Legate to England after the first steps had been taken.
Campeggio he thought the fittest, being already an English bishop.[32] At
any rate, the Pope bade Casalis say he would do his best to satisfy the
King, though he knew that the Emperor would never forgive him.

It is not certain what would have followed had Henry acted on the Pope's
suggestion. The judgment which Clement promised might have been in his
favour. Clement evidently wished him to think that it would. But he might,
after all, have found himself required to take Catherine back. Either
alternative was possible. At any rate he did not mean, if he could help
it, to have recourse to violent methods. Charles himself, though he
intended to prevent, if he could, a legal decision against his aunt, had
hinted at the possibility and even desirableness of a private arrangement,
if Catherine would agree. Catherine, unfortunately, would agree to
nothing, but stood resolutely upon her rights, and Charles was forced to
stand by her. Henry was equally obstinate, and the Pope was between the
rock and the whirlpool.

The Pope had promised, however, and had promised with apparent sincerity.
The Papal states remaining occupied by the Imperial troops, Henry carried
out his own part of the engagement by joining France in a declaration of
war against the Emperor. Toison d'or and Clarencieulx appeared before
Charles at Burgos on the 22nd of January, Charles sitting on his throne to
receive their defiance. Toison d'or said that the Emperor had opened
Christendom to the Turks, had imprisoned the Pope, had allowed his armies
to sack Rome and plunder churches and monasteries, had insulted the holy
relics, slain or robbed princes of the Church, cardinals, patriarchs,
archbishops, outraged nunneries and convents, had encouraged Lutheran
heretics in committing these atrocities, &c. For these reasons France
declared open war with the Emperor. The English herald--he was accused
afterwards of having exceeded his instructions--was almost as peremptory.
Henry, in earlier times, had lent Charles large sums of money, which had
not been repaid. Clarencieulx said that, unless the Pope was released and
the debt settled, the King of England must make common cause with his
brother of France. Six weeks' interval was allowed for the Emperor to
consider his answer before hostilities on the side of England should
commence.

The Emperor replied with calmness and dignity. War with France was
inevitable. As to England, he felt like Cicero, when doubting whether he
should quarrel with Cæsar, that it was inconvenient to be in debt to an
enemy. If England attacked him he said he would defend himself, but he
declined to accept the defiance. Mendoza was not recalled from London. At
the end of the six weeks the situation was prolonged by successive truces
till the peace of Cambray. But Henry had kept his word to the Pope.
England appeared by the side of France in the lists as the armed champion
of the Papacy, and the Pope was expected to fulfil his promises without
disguise or subterfuge.

Clement's method of proceeding with the divorce was rejected. The
dispensation and commission which had been amended with a view to it were
rejected also as worthless. Dr. Fox and Stephen Gardiner were despatched
to Orvieto with fuller powers and with a message peremptory and even
menacing. They were again to impress on the Pope the danger of a disputed
succession. They were to hint that, if relief was refused in deference to
the Emperor, England might decline from obedience to the Holy See. The
Pope must, therefore, pass the commission and the dispensation in the form
in which it had been sent from England. If he objected that it was
unusual, they were to announce that the cause was of great moment. The
King would not be defrauded of his expectation through fear of the
Emperor. If he could not obtain justice from the Pope, he would be
compelled to seek it elsewhere.[33]

The language of these instructions shows that the King and Wolsey
understood the Proteus that they were dealing with, and the necessity of
binding his hands if he was not to slip from them. It was not now the
fountain of justice, the august head of Christendom, that they were
addressing, but a shifty old man, clad by circumstances with the robe of
authority, but whose will was the will of the power which happened to be
strongest in Italy. It was not tolerable that the Emperor should dictate
on a question which touched the vital interests of an independent kingdom.

Spanish diplomatists had afterwards to excuse and explain away Clement's
concessions on the ground that they were signed when he was angry at his
imprisonment, had been extorted by threats, and were therefore of no
validity. He struggled hard to avoid committing himself. The unwelcome
documents were recast into various forms. The dispensation was not signed
after all, but in the place of it other briefs were signed of even graver
importance. The Pope yielded to the demand to send a second Legate to try
the cause with Wolsey in England, where it was assumed as a matter of
course that judgment would be given for the King. The Legate chosen was
Campeggio, who was himself, as was said, an English bishop. The Pope also
did express in writing his own opinion on the cause as favourable to the
King's plea. What passed at Orvieto was thus afterwards compendiously
related by Henry in a published statement of his case.

"On his first scruple the King sent to the Bishop of Rome, as Christ's
Vicar, who had the keys of knowledge, to dissolve his doubts. The said
Bishop refused to take any knowledge of it and desired the King to apply
for a commission to be sent into the realm, authorised to determine the
cause, thus pretending that it might no wise be entreated at Rome, but
only within the King's own realm. He delegated his whole powers to
Campeggio and Wolsey, giving them also a special commission in form of a
decretal, wherein he declared the King's marriage null and empowered him
to marry again. In the open commission also he gave them full authority to
give sentence for the King. Secretly he gave them instructions to burn the
commission decretal and not proceed upon it; (but) at the time of sending
the commission he also sent the King a brief, written in his own hand,
admitting the justice of his cause and promising _sanctissime sub verbo
Pontificis_ that he would never advocate it to Rome."[34]

Engagements which he intended to keep or break according to the turns of
the war between Francis and Charles did not press very heavily perhaps on
Clement's conscience, but they were not extorted from him without many
agonies. "He has granted the commission," Casalis wrote. "He is not
unwilling to please the King and Wolsey, but fears the Spaniards more than
ever he did. The Friar-General has forbidden him in the Emperor's name to
grant the King's request. He fears for his life from the Imperialists if
the Emperor knows of it. Before he would grant the brief he said, weeping,
that it would be his utter ruin. The Venetians and Florentines desired his
destruction. His sole hope of life was from the Emperor. He asked me to
swear whether the King would desert him or not. Satisfied on this point,
he granted the brief, saying that he placed himself in the King's arms, as
he would be drawn into perpetual war with the Emperor. Wolsey might
dispose of him and the Papacy as if he were Pope himself."[35]

The Emperor had insisted, at Catherine's desire, that the cause should not
be heard in England. The Pope had agreed that it should be heard in
England. Consent had been wrung from him, but his consent had been given,
and Campeggio was to go and make the best of it. His open commission was
as ample as words could make it. He and Wolsey were to hear the cause and
decide it. The secret "decretal" which he had wept over while he signed it
declared, before the cause was heard, the sentence which was to be given,
and he had pledged his solemn word not to revoke the hearing to Rome. All
that Clement could do was to instruct the Legate before he started to
waste time on his way, and, on his arrival in England, to use his skill to
"accommodate matters," and to persuade the Queen--if he found her
persuadeable--to save him from his embarrassments by taking the veil. This
was a course which Charles himself in his private mind would have
recommended, but was too honourable to advise it. The fatal decretal was
to be seen only by a very few persons, and then, as Henry said, Campeggio
was to burn it. He was instructed also to pass no sentence without first
referring back to Rome, and, if driven to extremity, was to find an excuse
for postponing a decision; very natural conduct on the part of a weak,
frightened mortal--conduct not unlike that of his predecessor, Alexander
III., in the quarrel between Becket and Henry II.--but in both cases
purely human, not such as might have been looked for in a divinely guided
Vicar of Christ.




CHAPTER IV.

Anne Boleyn--Letters to her from the King--The Convent at Wilton--The
Divorce--The Pope's promises--Arrival of Campeggio in England--Reception
at the Bridewell Palace--Proposal to Catherine to take the veil--Her
refusal--Uncertainty of the succession--A singular expedient--Alarms of
Wolsey--The true issue--Speech of the King in the City--Threats of the
Emperor--Defects in the Bull of Pope Julius--Alleged discovery of a brief
supplying them--Distress of Clement.


The marriage with Anne Boleyn was now a fixed idea in Henry's mind. He had
become passionately attached to her, though not perhaps she to him. The
evidence of his feeling remains in a series of letters to her--how
preserved for public inspection no one knows. Some of them were said to
have been stolen by Campeggio. Perhaps they were sold to him; at any rate,
they survive. A critic in the "Edinburgh Review" described them as such as
"might have been written by a pot-boy to his girl." The pot-boy must have
been a singular specimen of his kind. One, at any rate, remains to show
that, though Henry was in love, he did not allow his love to blind him to
his duty as a prince. The lady, though obliged to wait for the full
gratification of her ambition, had been using her influence to advance her
friends, while Wolsey brought upon himself the rebuke of his master by
insufficient care in the distribution of Church patronage. The
correspondence throws an unexpected light upon the King's character.

The Abbess of Wilton had died. The situation was a pleasant one. Among
the sisters who aspired to the vacant office was a certain Eleanor Carey,
a near connection of Anne, and a favourite with her. The appointment
rested virtually with the Crown. The Lady Anne spoke to the King. The King
deputed Wolsey to inquire into the fitness of the various candidates, with
a favourable recommendation of Eleanor Carey's claims. The inquiry was
made, and the result gives us a glimpse into the habits of the devout
recluses in these sacred institutions.[36]

"As for the matter of Wilton," wrote Henry to Anne, "my Lord Cardinal here
had the nuns before him, and examined them in the presence of Master Bell,
who assures me that she whom we would have had Abbess has confessed
herself to have had two children by two different priests, and has since
been kept not long ago by a servant of Lord Broke that was. Wherefore I
would not for all the gold in the world clog your conscience nor mine, to
make her ruler of a house which is of so ungodly demeanour, nor I trust
you would not that, neither for brother nor sister,[37] I should so
distain mine honour or conscience. And as touching the Prioress [Isabella
Jordan] or Dame Eleanor's elder sister, though there is not any evident
cause proved against them, and the Prioress is so old that of many years
she could not be as she was named, yet notwithstanding, to do you pleasure
I have done that neither of them shall have it, but that some other good
and well-disposed woman shall have it, whereby the house shall be better
reformed, whereof I assure you it hath much need, and God much the better
served."

This letter is followed by another to the Cardinal. Wolsey, in whose hands
the King had left the matter, in a second letter which is lost, instead of
looking out for the "good and well-disposed woman," though Isabella
Jordan's reputation was doubtful, yet chose to appoint her, and the King's
observations upon this action of his are worth attending to, as addressed
by such a person as Henry is supposed to have been to a Cardinal
Archbishop and Legate of the Holy See. Many of the letters signed by the
King were the composition of his ministers and secretaries. This to Wolsey
was his own.

"The great affection and love I bear you, causeth me, using the doctrine
of my Master, _quem diligo castigo_, thus plainly as now ensueth to break
to you my mind, ensuring you that neither sinister report, affection to my
own pleasure, interest, nor mediation of any other body beareth part in
this case, wherefore whatsoever I do say, I pray you think it spoken of no
displeasure, but of him that would you as much good both of body and soul
as you would yourself.

"Methinks it is not the right train of a trusty loving friend and servant
when the matter is put by the master's consent into his arbitre and
judgement--especially in a matter wherein his master hath both royalty and
interest, to elect and choose a person who was by him defended. And yet
another thing which displeaseth me more. That is to cloke your offence
made by ignorance of my pleasure, saying that you expressly knew not my
determinate mind in that behalf. Alas, my lord, what can be more evident
or plainer than these words, specially to a wise man--'His Grace careth
not who, but referreth it all to you, so that none of those who either be
or have been spotted with incontinence, like as by report the Prioress
hath been in her youth, have it;' and also in another place in the letter,
'And therefore his Highness thinketh her not meet for that purpose;'
thirdly, in another place in the same letter by these words, 'And though
his Grace speaketh not of it so openly, yet meseemeth his pleasure is that
in no wise the Prioress have it, nor yet Dame Eleanor's eldest sister, for
many considerations the which your Grace can and will best consider.'

"Ah, my Lord, it is a double offence both to do ill and to colour it too;
but with men that have wit it cannot be accepted so. Wherefore, good my
Lord, use no more that way with me, for there is no man living that more
hateth it. These things having been thus committed, either I must have
reserved them _in pectore_, whereby more displeasure might happen to
breed, or else thus soundly and plainly to declare them to you, because I
do think that _cum amico et familiari sincere semper est agendum_, and
especially the master to his best beloved servant and friend, for in so
doing the one shall be more circumspect in his doing, the other shall
declare and show the lothness that is in him to have any occasion to be
displeased with him.

"And as touching the redress of Religion [convent discipline], if it be
observed and continued, undoubtedly it is a gracious act. Notwithstanding,
if all reports be true, _ab imbecillis imbecilla expectantur_. How be it,
Mr. Bell hath informed me that the Prioress's age, personage and manner,
_præ se fert gravitatem_. I pray God it be so indeed, seeing she is
preferred to that room. I understand furthermore, which is greatly to my
comfort, that you have ordered yourself to Godward as religiously and
virtuously as any Prelate or father of Christ's Church can do, where in
so doing and persevering there can be nothing more acceptable to God, more
honour to yourself, nor more desired of your friends, among the which I
reckon myself not the least....

"I pray you, my Lord, think it not that it is upon any displeasure that I
write this unto you. For surely it is for my discharge before God, being
in the room that I am in, and secondly for the great zeal I bear unto you,
not undeserved in your behalf. Wherefore I pray you take it so; and I
assure you, your fault acknowledged, there shall remain in me no spark of
displeasure, trusting hereafter you shall recompense that with a thing
much more acceptable to me. And thus fare you well; advertising you that,
thanked be God, I and all my folk be, and have been since we came to
Ampthill, which was on Saturday last, July 11, in marvellous good health
and clearness of air.

"Written with the hand of him that is, and shall be your loving Sovereign
Lord and friend,--HENRY R."[38]

Campeggio meanwhile was loitering on his way as he had been directed,
pretending illness, pretending difficulties of the road. In sending him at
all the Pope had broken his promise to Charles. He engaged, however, that
no sentence should be given which had not been submitted first to
Charles's approval. The Emperor, anxious to avoid a complete rupture with
England, let the Legate go forward, but he directed Mendoza to inform
Wolsey that he must defend his aunt's honour; her cause was his and he
would hold it as such.[39] Wolsey, though afraid of the consequence of
opposing the divorce to himself and the Church, yet at heart had ceased
to desire it. Mendoza reported that English opinion was still
unfavourable, and that he did not believe that the commission would have
any result. The Pope would interpose delays. Wolsey would allow and
recognise them. Both Legates would agree privately to keep the matter in
suspense. The English Cardinal appeared to be against the Queen, but every
one knew that secretly he was now on her side.[40] Catherine only was
seriously frightened. She had doubtless been informed of the secret
decretal by which the Pope appeared to have prejudged her cause. She
supposed that the Pope meant it, and did not understand how lightly such
engagements sate upon him. The same Clement, when Benvenuto Cellini
reproached him for breaking his word, replied, smiling, that the Pope had
power to bind and to loose. Catherine came before long to know him better
and to understand the bearings of this singular privilege; but as yet she
thought that words meant what they seemed to say. When she heard that
Campeggio was actually coming, she wrote passionately to the Emperor,
flinging herself upon him for protection. Charles calmed her alarm. She
was not, he said, to be condemned without a hearing. The Pope had assured
him that the Legates should determine nothing to her detriment. The case
should be decided at Rome, as she had desired. Campeggio's orders were to
advise that it should be dropped. Apart from his present infatuation, the
King was a good Christian and would act as one. If he persisted, she might
rely on the Pope's protection. She must consent to nothing which would
imply the dissolution of her marriage. If the worst came, the King would
be made conscious of his duties.[41]

In the middle of October the Legate arrived. He had been ill in earnest
from gout and was still suffering. He had to rest two days in Calais
before he could face the Channel. The passage was wild. A deputation of
Peers and Bishops waited to receive him at Dover. Respectful
demonstrations had been prepared at the towns through which he was to
pass, and a state ceremonial was to accompany his entrance into London.
But he was, or pretended to be, too sick to allow himself to be seen. He
was eight days on the road from the coast, and on reaching his destination
he was carried privately in a state barge to the house provided for his
residence. Wolsey called the next morning. The King was absent, but
returned two days later to the Bridewell palace. There Campeggio waited on
him, accompanied by Wolsey. The weather continued to frown. "I wish,"
wrote Gerardo Molza to the Marchioness of Mantua, "that you could have
seen the two Cardinals abreast, one on his mule, the other carried in his
chair, the rain falling fast so that we were all drenched." The King,
simple man, believed that the documents which he held secured him. The
Pope in sending the Legate had acted in the teeth of the Emperor's
prohibition, and no one guessed how the affair had been soothed down. The
farce was well played, and the language used was what Henry expected.
Messer Floriano, one of Campeggio's suit, made a grand oration, setting
out the storming of Rome, the perils of the Church, and the misery of
Italy, with moving eloquence. The crowd was so dense in the hall of
audience that some of the Italians lost their shoes, and had to step back
barefoot to their lodgings through the wet streets.

The Legate was exhausted by the exertion, but he was not allowed to rest,
and the serious part of the business began at once behind the scenes. He
had hoped, as the Emperor said, that the case might be dropped. He found
Henry immoveable. "An angel from heaven," he wrote on the 17th of
October,[42] "would not be able to persuade the King that his marriage was
not invalid. The matter had come to such a pass that it could no longer be
borne with. The Cardinal of York and the whole kingdom insisted that the
question must be settled in some way." One road out of the difficulty
alone presented itself. The Emperor had insisted that the marriage should
not be dissolved by Catherine's consent, objecting reasonably that a
judgment invalidating it would shake other royal marriages besides hers.
But no such judgment would be necessary if Catherine could be induced to
enter "lax religion," to take vows of chastity which, at her age and under
her conditions of health, would be a mere form. The Pope could then allow
Henry to take another wife without offence to any one. The legitimacy of
the Princess would not be touched, and the King undertook that the
succession should be settled upon her if he had no male heir. The Queen in
consenting would lose nothing, for the King had for two years lived apart
from her, and would never return to cohabitation. The Emperor would be
delivered from an obligation infinitely inconvenient to him, and his own
honour and the honour of Spain would be equally untouched.

These arguments were laid before the Queen by both the Legates, and urged
with all their eloquence. In the interests of the realm, in the interests
of Europe, in the interests of the Church, in her own and her daughter's
interest as well, it would have been wiser if she had complied. Perhaps
she would have complied had the King's plea been confined, as at first, to
the political exigencies of the succession. But the open and premature
choice of the lady who was to take her place was an indignity not to be
borne. She had the pride of her race. Her obstinacy was a match for her
husband's. She was shaken for a moment by the impassioned entreaties of
Campeggio, and she did not at once absolutely refuse. The Legate postponed
the opening of his court. He referred to Rome for further instructions,
complaining of the responsibility which was thrown upon him. Being on the
spot he was able to measure the danger of disappointing the King after the
secret commission, the secret decretal, and the Pope's private letter
telling Henry that he was right. Campeggio wrote to Salviati, after his
first interview with Catherine, that he did not yet despair. Something
might be done if the Emperor would advise her to comply. He asked Fisher
to help him, and Fisher seemed not wholly unwilling; but, after a few
days' reflection, Catherine told him that before she would consent she
would be torn limb from limb; she would have an authoritative sentence
from the Pope, and would accept nothing else; nothing should make her
alter her opinion, and if after death she could return to life, she would
die over again rather than change it.[43]

Wolsey was in equal anxiety. He had set the stone rolling, but he could
not stop it. If Clement failed the King now, after all that he had
promised, he might not only bring ruin on Wolsey himself, but might bring
on the overthrow of the temporal power of the Church of England. Catherine
was personally popular; but in the middle classes of the laity, among the
peers and gentlemen of England, the exactions of the Church courts, the
Pope's agents and collectors, the despotic tyranny of the Bishops, had
created a resentment the extent of which none knew better than he. The
entire gigantic system of clerical dominion, of which Wolsey was himself
the pillar and representative, was tottering to its fall. If the King was
driven to bay, the favour of a good-natured people for a suffering woman
would be a poor shelter either for the Church or for him. Campeggio turned
to Wolsey for advice on Catherine's final refusal. The Pope, he said, had
hoped that Wolsey would advise the King to yield. Wolsey had advised. He
told Cavendish that he had gone on his knees to the King, but he could
only say to Campeggio that "the King--fortified and justified by reasons,
writings, and counsels of many learned men who feared God--would never
yield." If he was to find that the Pope had been playing with him, and the
succession was to be left undetermined, "the Church would be ruined and
the realm would be in infinite peril."

How great, how real, was the dread of a disputed succession, appears from
an extraordinary expedient which had suggested itself to Campeggio
himself, and which he declares that some perplexed politicians had
seriously contemplated. "They have thought," he wrote on the 28th of
October, "of marrying the Princess Mary to the King's natural son [the
Duke of Richmond] if it could be done by dispensation from His Holiness."
The Legate said that at first he had himself thought of this as a means
of establishing the succession; but he did not believe it would satisfy
the King's desire.[44] If anything could be more astonishing than a
proposal for the marriage of a brother and sister, it was the reception
which the suggestion met with at Rome. The Pope's secretary replied that
"with regard to the dispensation for marrying the son to the daughter of
the King, if on the succession being so established the King would abandon
the divorce, the Pope would be much more inclined to grant it."[45]

Clement's estimate of the extent of the dispensing power was large. But
the situation was desperate. He had entangled himself in the meshes. He
had promised what he had no intention of performing. He was finding that
he had been trifling with a lion, and that the lion was beginning to rouse
himself. Again and again Wolsey urged the dangers upon him. He wrote on
the 1st of November to Casalis that "the King's honour was touched, having
been so great a benefactor to the Holy See. The Pope would alienate all
faith and devotion to the Apostolic See. The sparks of opposition which
had been extinguished with such care and vigilance would blaze out to the
utmost anger of all, both in England and elsewhere."[46] Clement and his
Cardinals heard, but imperfectly believed. "He tells us," wrote Sanga,
"that if the divorce is not granted the authority of the Apostolic See in
England will be annihilated; he is eager to save it because his own
greatness is bound up with ours." The Curia was incredulous, and thought
that Wolsey was only alarmed for himself. Wolsey, however, was right.
Although opinions might have varied on the merits of the King's request,
people were beginning to ask what value as a supreme judge a pope could
have, who could not decide on a point of canon law.

The excitement was growing. Certain knowledge of what was going on was
confined to the few who had access to the secret correspondence, and they
knew only what was meant for their own eyes. All parties, English and
Imperial alike, distrusted the Pope. He had impartially lied to both, and
could be depended on by neither, except so far as they could influence his
fears. Catherine was still the favourite with the London citizens. She had
been seen accidentally in a gallery of the Palace, and had been
enthusiastically cheered. The King found it necessary to explain himself.
On the 8th of November he summoned the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, the Privy
Council, and a body of Peers, and laid the situation before them from his
own point of view. He spoke of his long friendship with the Emperor, and
of his hope that it would not be broken, and again of his alliance with
France, and of his desire to be at peace with all the world. "He had
wished," he said, "to attach France more closely to him by marrying his
daughter to a French prince, and the French Ambassador, in considering the
proposal, had raised the question of her legitimacy. His own mind had long
misgiven him on the lawfulness of his marriage. M. de Tarbes' words had
added to his uneasiness. The succession to the crown was uncertain; he had
consulted his bishops and lawyers, and they had assured him that he had
been living in mortal sin.... He meant only to do what was right, and he
warned his subjects to be careful of forming hasty judgments on their
Prince's actions."

Apart from the present question the King was extremely popular, and
reports arriving from Spain touched the national pride. There was a talk
of calling Parliament. Mendoza and Catherine again urged Charles to speak
plainly. The Pope must inhibit Parliament from interfering. The Nuncio in
London would present the order, and Parliament, they thought, would
submit.[47] They were mistaking the national temper. Mendoza's letters had
persuaded the Spanish Council that the whole of England was in opposition
to the King. The Spanish Chancellor had said publicly that if the cause
was proceeded with there would be war, and "the King would be dethroned by
his own subjects." The words were reported to Wolsey, and were confirmed
by an English agent, Sylvester Darius, who had been sent to Valladolid on
business connected with the truce.[48] Darius had spoken to the Chancellor
on the probability of England taking active part with France. "Why do you
talk of the King of England?" the Chancellor had answered; "if we wished,
we could expel him from his kingdom in three months. What force had the
King? his own subjects would expel him. He knew how matters were."[49] It
was one thing for a free people to hold independent opinions on the
arrangements of their own royal family. It was another to be threatened
with civil war at the instigation of a foreign sovereign. Wolsey quoted
the dangerous language at a public meeting in London; and a voice
answered, "The Emperor has lost the hearts of a hundred thousand
Englishmen."[50] A fresh firebrand was thrown into the flames immediately
after. The national pride was touched on a side where it was already
sensitive from interest. There were 15,000 Flemish artisans in London.
English workmen had been jealous of their skill, and had long looked
askance at them. The cry rose that they had an army of traitors in their
midst who must be instantly expelled. The Flemings' houses were searched
for arms, and watched by a guard, and the working city population,
traders, shopkeepers, mechanics, apprentices, came over to the King's
side, and remained there.

Meantime the cause itself hung fire. A new feature had been introduced to
enable Campeggio to decline to proceed and the Pope to withdraw decently
from his promises. The original Bull of Pope Julius permitting the
marriage had been found to contain irregularities of form which were
supposed fatal to it. The validity of the objection was not denied, but
was met by the production of a brief alleged to have been found in Spain,
and bearing the same date with the Bull, which exactly met that objection.
No trace of such a brief could be found in the Vatican Register. It had
informalities of its own, and its genuineness was justly suspected, but it
answered the purpose of a new circumstance. A copy only was sent to
England, which was shown by Catherine in triumph to Henry, but the
original was detained. It would be sent to Rome, but not to London;
without it Campeggio could pretend inability to move, and meanwhile he
could refuse to proceed on his commission. Subterfuges which answer for
the moment revenge themselves in the end. Having been once raised, it was
absolutely necessary that a question immediately affecting the succession
should be settled in some way, and many of the peers who had been
hitherto cool began to back the King's demands. An address was drawn up,
having among others the Duke of Norfolk's signature, telling the Pope that
the divorce must be conceded, and complaints were sent through Casalis
against Campeggio's dilatoriness. The King, he was to say, would not
submit to be deluded.

Casalis delivered his message, and describes the effect which it produced.
"The Pope," he wrote, "very angry, laid his hand on my arm and forbade me
to proceed, saying there was but too good ground for complaint, and he was
deluded by his own councillors. He had granted the decretal only to be
shown to the King, and then burnt. Wolsey now wished to divulge it. He saw
what would follow, and would gladly recall what had been done, even with
the loss of one of his fingers."

Casalis replied that Wolsey wished only to show it to a few persons whose
secrecy might be depended on. Was it not demanded for that purpose? Why
had the Pope changed his mind? The Pope, only the more excited, said he
saw the Bull would be the ruin of him, and he would make no more
concessions. Casalis prayed him to consider. Waving his arms violently,
Clement said, "I do consider. I consider the ruin which is hanging over
me. I repent what I have done. If heresies arise, is it my fault? I will
not violate my conscience. Let them, if they like, send the Legate back,
because he will not proceed. They can do as they please, provided they do
not make me responsible."

Did the Pope mean, then, Casalis asked, that the commission should not
proceed? The Pope could not say as much as that; he had told Campeggio, he
said, to dissuade the King and persuade the Queen. "What harm could there
be," Casalis inquired, "in showing the decretal, under oath, to a few of
the Privy Council?"

The Pope said the decretal ought to have been burnt, and refused to
discuss the matter further.[51]




CHAPTER V.

Demands of the Imperial Agent at Rome--The alleged Brief--Illness of the
Pope--Aspirations of Wolsey--The Pope recovers--Imperial menaces--Clement
between the anvil and the hammer--Appeal of Henry to Francis--The trial of
the cause to proceed--Instructions to Campeggio--Opinion at Rome--Recall
of Mendoza--Final interview between Mendoza and the King.


Human pity is due to the unfortunate Pope--Vicar of Christ, supreme judge
in Europe, whose decrees were the inspirations of the Holy Ghost--spinning
like a whipped top under the alternate lashes of the King of England and
the Emperor. He had hoped that his decretal would not be known. It could
not be concealed from Mendoza, who discovered, putting the worst
interpretation upon it, "that the Pope and King had been endeavouring to
intimidate the Queen into retiring into a convent." Finding that he, too,
could put no faith in Clement, the Emperor's representative at Rome now
forced a new promise from him. The proceedings in England were not to be
opened without a fresh direct order from the Pope, and this the Pope was
to be forbidden to give. If the King was obstinate and the Queen demanded
it, Campeggio was to leave England, and, notwithstanding his engagements
to the contrary, Clement was to advocate the cause to Rome. The new brief
was sufficient plea. Without it the Legates could come to no conclusion,
"the whole right of the Queen being based upon its contents." The Emperor
had it in his hands, and by refusing to allow it to be examined, except at
Rome, might prevent them from moving.

There was little doubt that the brief had been forged for the occasion.
The Pope having sent a commission to England, the King considered that he
had a right to the production of documents essential to the case. He
required Catherine to write to Charles to ask for it. Catherine did as he
desired, and the messenger who carried her letter to the Spanish Court was
sworn to carry no private or separate missive from her. Mendoza dared not
write by the same hand himself, lest his despatches should be examined. He
made the messenger, therefore, learn a few words by heart, telling the
Emperor that the Queen's letter was not to be attended to. "We thought,"
he said, "that the man's oath was thus saved."[52] Thus time drifted on.
The new year came, and no progress had been made, though Campeggio had
been three months in England. The Pope, more helpless than dishonest,
continued to assure the King that he would do all that by law could be
required of him, and as much as he could do _ex plenitudine potestatis_.
No peril should prevent him. "If the King thought his resigning the Papacy
would conduce to his purpose, he could be content, for the love he bore
his Highness, rather than fail to do the same."

If the Pope was so well disposed, the King could not see where the
difficulty lay. The Queen had refused his entreaty that she should enter
religion. Why should not the Pope, then, allow the decretal to be put in
execution? But Cardinal Salviati informed Casalis that a sentence given
in virtue of the decretal would have no effect, but would only cause the
Pope's deposition.[53] Visibly and unpleasantly it became now apparent to
Henry to what issues the struggle was tending. He had not expected it.
Wolsey had told him that the Pope would yield; and the Pope had promised
what was asked; but his promises were turning to vapour. Wolsey had said
that the Emperor could not afford to quarrel with him. The King found that
war with the Emperor in earnest was likely enough unless he himself drew
back, and draw back he would not. The poor Pope was as anxious as Henry.
He had spoken of resigning. He was near being spared the trouble. Harassed
beyond his strength, he fell ill, and was expected to die; and before
Wolsey there was now apparently the strange alternative either of utter
disgrace or of himself ascending the chair of St. Peter as Clement's
successor. His election, perhaps, was really among the chances of the
situation. The Cardinals had not forgiven the sack of Rome. A French or
English candidate had a fair prospect of success, and Wolsey could command
the French interest. He had boundless money, and money in the Sacred
College was only not omnipotent. He undertook, if he was chosen, to resign
his enormous English preferments and reside at Rome, and the vacancy of
his three bishoprics and his abbey would pour a cataract of gold into the
Cardinals' purses. The Bulls for English bishoprics had to be paid for on
a scale which startled Wolsey himself. Already archbishop of York, bishop
of Winchester, and abbot of St. Albans, he had just been presented to
Durham. He had paid 8,000 ducats to "expedite" his Bulls for Winchester.
The Cardinals demanded 13,000 ducats for Durham. The ducat was worth five
shillings, and five shillings in 1528 were worth fifty shillings of modern
money. At such a rate were English preferments bled to support the College
of Cardinals; and if all these great benefices were again vacated there
would be a fine harvest to be gathered. For a week or two the splendid
vision suspended even the agitation over the divorce; but the Pope
revived, and the Legates and he had to resume their ungrateful burden.

It was still really uncertain what Clement would do. Weak, impulsive men
often leave their course to fate or chance to decide for them. Casalis,
when he was able to attend to business again, told him in Wolsey's name
that he must take warning from his late danger. "By the wilfully suffering
a thing of such high importance to be unreformed to the doing whereof
Almighty God worked so openly he would incur God's displeasure and peril
his soul." The Imperialists were as anxious as Wolsey, and equally
distrustful. In the Sacred College English gold was an influence not to be
despised, and Henry had more to give than Charles. Micer Mai, the Imperial
agent at Rome, found, as the spring came on, that the Italian Cardinals
were growing cold. Salviati insisted to him that Catherine must go into a
convent. Casalis denounced the new brief as a forgery, and the Sacred
College seemed to be of the same opinion. The fiery Mai complained in the
Pope's presence of the scant courtesy which the Ministers of the Emperor
were meeting with, while the insolent and overbearing were regaled like
the Prodigal Son.[54] The Pope assured him that, come what might, he
would never authorise the divorce; but Mai only partially believed him. At
trying moments Mai was even inclining to take the same view of the Papacy
as Lope de Soria. "At other times," he said, "many things could be got out
of the Pope by sheer intimidation; but now that could not be tried, for he
would fall into despair, and the Imperialists would lose him altogether.
They owed him something for what he had done for them before, otherwise he
would be of opinion that it would be for God's service to reduce them to
their spiritual powers."[55]

Occasionally Mai's temper broke through, and he used language worth
observing. One of the Cardinals had spoken slightingly of the Emperor.

"I did not call on his Holiness," he wrote to Charles, "but sent him a
message, adding that, if ever it came to my notice that the same Cardinal,
or any member of the College, had dared to speak in such an indecent
manner of the Emperor, I took my most solemn oath that I would have him
beheaded or burnt alive within his own apartment. I had this time
refrained out of respect for his Holiness; but should the insult be
repeated I would not hesitate. They might do as they would with their
Bulls and other rogueries--grant or refuse them as they liked; but they
were not to speak evil of princes, or make themselves judges in the
affairs of kingdoms."[56]

This remarkable message was conveyed to the Pope, who seemed rather
pleased than otherwise. Mai, however, observed that the revolt of the
Lutherans was not to be wondered at, and in what they said of Rome he
considered that they were entirely right, except on points of faith.[57]

Cardinals had been roughly handled in the sack of the Holy City at but a
year's distance. The possibility was extremely real. The Imperial
Minister, it appeared, could still command the services of the Spanish
garrisons in the Papal territories if severity was needed, and the members
of the Sacred College had good reason to be uneasy; but King Henry might
reasonably object to the trial of his cause in a country where the
assessors of the supreme judge were liable to summary execution if they
were insubordinate. That Charles could allow his representative to write
in such terms to him proves that he and Mai, and Henry himself, were in
tolerable agreement on Church questions. The Pope knew it; one of his
chief fears was that the Emperor, France, England, and the German Princes,
might come to an understanding to his own disadvantage. Perhaps it might
have been so had not the divorce kept Henry and Charles apart. Campeggio
wrote to Sanga on the 3rd of April that certain advances had been made by
the Lutherans to Henry, in which they promised to relinquish all heresies
on articles of faith, and to believe according to Divine law if he and the
King of France would reduce the ecclesiastical state to the condition of
the Primitive Church, taking from it all its temporalities. He had told
the King this was the Devil dressed in angel's clothing, a mere design
against the property of the Church; and that it had been ruled by councils
and theologians that it was right for the Church to hold temporal
property. The King said those rules had been made by Churchmen
themselves, and now the laity must interfere. He said also that Churchmen
were said to be leading wicked lives, especially about the Court of
Rome.[58]

Growled at on both sides, in terror for himself, in terror for the Church,
the Pope drifted on, hoping for some accident to save him which never
came, and wishing perhaps that his illness had made an end of him.

The Emperor complained of Campeggio as partial to the King because he held
an English bishopric. "If the Pope leaves the succession undetermined,"
insisted Wolsey, on the other side, "no Prince would tolerate such an
injury." "Nothing was done," wrote the Pope's secretary to Campeggio, "and
nothing would be done. The Pope was in great trouble between the English
and Imperial Ambassadors. He wished to please the King, but the King and
Cardinal must not expect him to move till they had forced the Venetians to
restore the Papal territories." Stephen Gardiner, who knew Clement well
and watched him from day to day, said: "He was a man who never resolved
anything unless compelled by some violent affection. He was in great
perplexity, and seemed willing to gratify the King if he could, but when
it came to the point did nothing. He would be glad if the King's cause
could be determined in England by the Legates; and if the Emperor made any
suit against what should be done there, they would serve him as they now
served the King, and put off the time." So matters would go on, "unless
Campeggio would frankly promise to give sentence in the King's favour;
otherwise such delays would be found as the counterfeit Brief had
caused."[59] Sir Francis Bryan, who was also at the Papal court, wrote to
the King that the Pope would do nothing for him, and whoever had told the
King that he would, had not done him the best service. "He was very sorry
to write thus, but the King must not be fed with their flattering
words."[60]

To wait longer on the Pope's action was now seen in England to be useless.
The Pope dared not offend the Emperor further, and the Emperor had
interposed to prohibit future action. Clement had himself several times
suggested that the best way was to decide the case first in England in the
Legate's court, and leave Catherine to appeal; he had promised Charles
that no judgment should be given in England by the Legates; but he had
worn so double a face that no one could say which truly belonged to him.
Gardiner and Bryan were recalled. The King, finding the Pope's
ingratitude, "resolved to dissemble with him, and proceed on the
commission granted to Wolsey and Campeggio."[61] The Cardinal of York
encouraged his brother Legate by assuring him that if the marriage was now
dissolved means would be found to satisfy the Emperor. Catherine would be
left with her state undiminished, would have anything that she desired
"except the person of the King." The Emperor's natural daughter might be
married to the Duke of Richmond, and all would be well.[62]

So Wolsey wrote, but his mind was less easy than he pretended. Unless
Henry was supported actively by the French, he knew that the Pope would
fail him in the end; and Francis had been disappointed in the hope that
Henry would stand actively by him in the war. Without effectual help from
that quarter, Wolsey saw that he was himself undone. The French Ambassador
represented to his Court that Wolsey was sincerely attached to the French
alliance, that the King had only been induced to enterprise the affair by
the assurance which the Cardinal had always given that he had nothing to
fear from the Emperor; Wolsey had advanced the divorce as a "_means to
break off for ever the alliance with the Emperor_"; and Francis, by now
declaring himself, would confer a very great favour on the King, and would
oblige Wolsey as much as if he had made him pope.[63] His master was not
only now concerned for the discharge of his conscience and his desire to
have issue, but the very safety and independence of England was at stake.
He could not have it said that he left the succession to the throne
uncleared for the threats of his enemy.[64]

The Duke of Suffolk was despatched to Paris to bring Francis to the point.
Francis professed the warmest good-will to his brother of England. He
undertook to advise the Pope. He assured Suffolk that if the Emperor
attempted force Henry would find him at his side; but further he would not
pledge himself. The time was past for a Wolsey patriarchate, and Francis,
curiously enough, expressed doubts whether Wolsey was not after all
betraying Henry. "There are some," he said, "which the King my brother
doth trust in that matter that would it should never take effect.
Campeggio told me he did not think the divorce would be brought about, but
should be dissembled well enough. When the Cardinal of England was with
me, as far as I could perceive, he desired the divorce might take place,
for he loved not the Queen; but I advise my brother not to trust any man
too much, and to look to his own matters. The Cardinal has great
intelligence with the Pope, and Campeggio and they are not inclined to
it."[65]

Things could not go on thus for ever. There would have been an excuse for
Clement, if with a consciousness of his high office he had refused to
anticipate a judgment till the case had been heard and considered. But
from the first the right or wrong of the cause itself had been disregarded
as of no moment. Nothing had been thought of but the alternate dangers to
be anticipated from the King or the Emperor. Had the French driven the
Imperialists out of Italy, the divorce would have been granted without
further question. The supreme tribunal in Christendom was transparently
influenced by no motive save interest or fear. Clement, in fact, had
anticipated judgment, though he dared not avow it. He had appointed a
commission, and by the secret decretal had ruled what the decision was to
be. The decretal could not be produced, but, with or without it, the King
insisted that the court should sit. Campeggio had been sent to try the
cause, and try it he should. Notice was given that the suit was to be
heard at the end of June. Wolsey perhaps had chosen a date not far from
the close of term, that the vacation might suspend the process, and give
time for further delay.

Since a trial of some kind could not be avoided, final instructions were
sent from Rome to Campeggio. "If," wrote Sanga to him, "the Pope was not
certain that he remembered the injunctions which he gave him by word of
mouth, and which had been written to him many times, he would be very
anxious. His Holiness had always desired that the cause should be
protracted in order to find some means by which he could satisfy the King
without proceeding to sentence. The citation of the cause to Rome, which
he had so often insisted on, had been deferred, not because it was doubted
whether the matter could be treated with less scandal at Rome than there,
but because His Holiness had ever shrunk from a step which would offend
the King. But, since Campeggio had not been able to prevent the
commencement of the proceedings, His Holiness warned him that the process
must be slow, and that no sentence must in any manner be pronounced. He
would not lack a thousand means and pretexts, if on no other point, at
least upon the brief which had been produced."[66]

According to Casalis the view taken of the general situation at Rome was
this.

"The Pope would not declare openly for the Emperor till he saw how matters
went. He thought the Emperor would come to Italy, and if there was a war
would be victorious, so that it would be for His Holiness's advantage to
obtain his friendship beforehand. If peace was made the Emperor would
dictate terms, and more was to be hoped from his help than from the
French King. The Emperor was the enemy of the Allies, and sought to
recover the honour which he lost by the sack of Rome by making himself
protector of the Pope."[67]

Wolsey's dream was over, and with it the dreams of Lope de Soria and Micer
Mai. The fine project to unite France and England in defence of the Papacy
was proving baseless as the sand on which it was built. Henry VIII. was to
lead the reform of the Church in England. Charles, instead of beheading
cardinals, was to become the champion of the Roman hierarchy. The air was
clearing. The parties in the great game were drifting into their natural
situations. The fate which lay before Wolsey himself, the fate which lay
before the Church of England, of the worst corruptions of which he was
himself the chief protector and example, his own conscience enabled him
too surely to foresee.

Mendoza was recalled, and before leaving had an interview with the King.
"The Emperor," he said, "was obliged to defend his aunt. It was a private
affair, which touched the honour of his family." The King answered that
the Emperor had no right to interfere. He did not meddle himself with the
private affairs of other princes. Mendoza was unable to guess what was
likely to happen. The suit was to go on. If a prohibitory mandate arrived
from the Pope, it was uncertain whether Wolsey would obey it, and it was
doubtful also whether any such mandate would be sent. He suspected Clement
of possible deliberate treachery. He believed that orders had been sent to
the Legate to proceed, and give sentence in virtue of the first
commission. In that case the sentence would certainly be against the
Queen, and not a moment must be lost in pressing an appeal to Rome.[68]




CHAPTER VI.

The Court at Blackfriars--The point at issue--The Pope's competency as
judge--Catherine appeals to Rome--Imperial pressure upon Clement--The
Emperor insists on the Pope's admission of the appeal--Henry demands
sentence--Interference of Bishop Fisher--The Legates refuse to give
judgment--The Court broken up--Peace of Cambray.


The great scene in the hall at the Blackfriars when the cause of Henry
VIII. and Catherine of Aragon was pleaded before Wolsey and Campeggio is
too well known to require further description. To the Legates it was a
splendid farce. They knew that it was to end in nothing. The world
outside, even the parties chiefly concerned, were uncertain what the Pope
intended, and waited for the event to determine their subsequent conduct.
There was more at issue than the immediate question before the Court. The
point really at stake was, whether the interests of the English nation
could be trusted any longer to a judge who was degrading his office by
allowing himself to be influenced by personal fears and interests; who,
when called on to permit sentence to be delivered, by delegates whom he
had himself appointed, yet confessed himself unable, or unwilling, to
decide whether it should be delivered or not. Abstractly Henry's demand
was right. A marriage with a brother's wife was not lawful, and no Papal
dispensation could make it so; but long custom had sanctioned what in
itself was forbidden. The Pope could plead the undisputed usage of
centuries, and if when the case was first submitted to him he had
unequivocally answered that a marriage contracted _bonâ fide_ under his
predecessor's sanction could not be broken, English opinion, it is likely,
would have sustained him, even at the risk of a disputed succession, and
the King himself would have dropped his suit. But the Pope, as a weak
mortal, had wished to please a powerful sovereign. He had entertained the
King's petition; he had hesitated, had professed inability to come to a
conclusion, finally had declared that justice was on the King's side, and
had promised that it should be so declared. If he now drew back, broke his
engagements, and raised new difficulties in the settlement of a doubt
which the long discussion of it had made serious; if he allowed it to be
seen that his change of purpose was due to the menaces of another secular
Prince, was such a judge to be any longer tolerated? Was not the Papacy
itself degenerate, and unfit to exercise any longer the authority which it
had been allowed to assume? This aspect of the matter was not a farce at
all. The Papal supremacy itself was on its trial.

On the 16th of June the King and Queen were cited to appear in court.
Catherine was unprepared. She had been assured by the Emperor that her
cause should not be tried in England. She called on Campeggio to explain.
Campeggio answered that the Pope, having deputed two Legates for the
process, could not revoke their commission without grave consideration. He
exhorted her to pray God to enlighten her to take some good advice,
considering the times. He was not without hope that, at the last
extremity, she would yield and take the vows. But she did not in the least
accede to his hints, and no one could tell what she meant to do.[69] She
soon showed what she meant to do. On the 18th the court sate. Henry
appeared by a proctor, who said for him that he had scruples about the
validity of his marriage, which he required to be resolved. Catherine
attended in person, rose, and delivered a brief protest against the place
of trial and the competency of the judges. Wolsey was an English subject,
Campeggio held an English bishopric. They were not impartial. She demanded
to be heard at Rome, delivered her protest in writing, and withdrew.

It was at once answered for the King that he could not plead in a city
where the Emperor was master. The court adjourned for three days that the
Cardinals might consider. On the 21st they sate again. The scene became
more august. Henry came now himself, and took his place under a canopy at
the Legates' right hand. Catherine attended again, and sate in equal state
at their left. Henry spoke. He said he believed that he had been in mortal
sin. He could bear it no longer, and required judgment. Wolsey replied
that they would do what was just; and then Catherine left her seat,
crossed in front of them, and knelt at her husband's feet. She had been
his lawful wife, she said, for twenty years, and had not deserved to be
repudiated and put to shame. She begged him to remember their daughter, to
remember her own relations, Charles and Ferdinand, who would be gravely
offended. Crowds of women, gathered about the palace gates, had cheered
her as she came in, and bade her care for nothing. If women had to decide
the case, said the French Ambassador, the Queen would win. Their voices
availed nothing. She was told that her protest could not be admitted. She
then left the court, was thrice summoned to come back, and, as she
refused, was pronounced contumacious.

For the King to appear as a suitor at Rome was justly regarded as
impossible. Casalis was directed to tell Clement that, being in the
Emperor's hands, he could not be accepted as a judge in the case, and that
sovereign princes were exempted by prerogative from pleading in courts
outside their own dominions. If he admitted the Queen's appeal, he would
lose the devotion of the King and of England to the See Apostolic, and
would destroy Wolsey for ever.[70] Had the Legates been in earnest there
would have been no time to learn whether the appeal was allowed at Rome or
not; they would have gone on and given sentence under their commission. It
appeared as if this was what they intended to do. The court continued
sitting. Catherine being contumacious, there was nothing left to delay the
conclusion. She was in despair; she believed herself betrayed. Mendoza,
who might have comforted her, was gone. She wrote to him that she was lost
unless the Emperor or the Pope interposed. Even Campeggio seemed to be
ignorant how he was to avoid a decision. Campeggio, the French Ambassador
wrote, was already half conquered. If Francis would send a word to him, he
might gather courage to pass sentence, and Henry would be brought to his
knees in gratitude. The very Pope, perhaps, in his heart would not have
been displeased if the Legates had disobeyed the orders which he had
given, and had proceeded to judgment, as he had often desired that they
might. Micer Mai's accounts to Charles of the shifts of the poor old man,
as the accounts from England reached him, are almost pathetic. Pope,
Cardinals, canon lawyers, Mai regarded as equally feeble, if not as
equally treacherous. One reads with wonder the Spaniard's real estimate of
the persons for whose sake and in whose name Charles and Philip were to
paint Europe red with blood.

"Salviati," said Mai, "who, though a great rogue, has not wit enough to
hide his tricks, showed me the minute of a letter they had written to
Campeggio: a more stupid or rascally composition could not have been
concocted in hell."[71] Campeggio was directed in this letter to reveal to
no one that he had received orders not to give sentence. He was to go on
making delays, which was what "those people desired," because, if he was
to say that he would make no declaration in the affair, the Archbishop of
York would act by himself, the Pope's mandate having been originally
addressed to the two Legates conjointly or to one individually. The letter
had gone on to direct Campeggio, if he could not manage this, to carry on
the proceedings until the final sentence, but not deliver sentence without
first consulting Rome. If possible, he was to keep this part of his
instructions secret, for fear of displeasing the King.

"I lost all patience," Mai continued. "Andrea de Burgo and I went to the
Pope, and told him we had seen the instructions sent to Campeggio, which
were of such a nature that if we were to inform your Majesty of their
contents you would undoubtedly resent the manner in which you were being
treated. We would not do that, but we would speak our minds plainly. The
letter to Campeggio was a breach of faith so often pledged by his Holiness
to your Majesty that the divorce suit should be advocated to Rome. The
violation of such a promise and the writing to Campeggio to go on with
the proceeding was a greater insult and offence to your Majesty than the
commission given to him in the first instance. It was a wonder to see how
lightly his Holiness held promises made in accordance with justice and
reason. An offence of such a kind bore so much on the honour of your
Majesty and the princes of the Imperial family, that your Majesty would
not put up with it. The King would have but to ask Campeggio whether he
would or would not give sentence, and, if he refused, the duty would then
devolve on the other Legate. His Holiness should be careful how he added
fuel to the fire now raging in Christendom."[72]

It was not enough for Mai that the cause should be revoked to Rome. The
English agents said that if an independent sovereign was to be forced to
plead at Rome, the Pope must at least hear the suit in person. He must not
refer it to the Rota. Mai would not hear of this. To the Rota it must go
and nowhere else. The Pope might mean well, but he might die and be
succeeded by a pope of another sort, or the English might regain the
influence they once had, and indeed had still, in the Papal court. They
were great favourites, bribing right and left and spending money
freely.[73] What was a miserable pope to do? Casalis, and Dr. Benet who
had joined him from England, pointed out the inevitable consequences if he
allowed himself to be governed by the Emperor. The Pope replied with
lamentations that none saw that better than he, but he was so placed
between the hammer and the anvil, that, though he wished to please the
King, the whole storm would fall on him. The Emperor would not endure an
insult to his family, and had said that he regarded the cause more than
all his kingdoms. Those were only ornaments of fortune, while this touched
his honour. He would postpone the advocation for a few days, but it could
not be refused. He was in the Emperor's power, and the Emperor could do as
he pleased with him.

The few days' respite meant a hope that news of some decisive act might
arrive meanwhile from England. The King must determine, Casalis and Benet
thought, whether it would be better to suspend the process at his own
request, or to proceed to sentence before the advocation.[74] The Pope,
the Commissioners added, was well disposed to the King, and would not
refuse to shed his blood for him; but in this cause and at this time he
said it was impossible.

While matters were going thus at Rome, the suit in England went forward.
The Cardinals availed themselves of every excuse for delay; but in the
presence of Catherine's determined refusal to recognise the court, delay
became daily more difficult. The King pressed for judgment; formal
obstacles were exhausted, and the Roman Legate must either produce his
last instructions, which he had been ordered not to reveal, or there was
nothing left for him to urge as a reason for further hesitation. It was
not supposed that in the face of a distinct promise the Pope would revoke
the commission. Campeggio and Wolsey were sitting with full powers to hear
and determine. Determine, it seemed, they must; when, at the fifth
session, uncalled on and unlooked for, the Bishop of Rochester rose and
addressed the court. The King, he said, had declared that his only
intention was to have justice done, and to relieve himself of a scruple of
conscience, and had invited the judges and everyone else to throw light
upon a cause which distressed and perplexed him. He [the Bishop], having
given two years' diligent study to the question, felt himself bound in
consequence to declare his opinion, and not risk the damnation of his soul
by withholding it. He undertook, therefore, to declare and demonstrate
that the marriage of the King and Queen could be dissolved by no power,
human or divine, and for that conclusion he was ready to lay down his
life. The Baptist had held it glorious to die in a cause of marriage, when
marriage was not so holy as it had been made by the shedding of Christ's
blood. He was prepared to encounter any peril for the truth, and he ended
by presenting his arguments in a written form.[75]

The Bishop's allusion to the Baptist was neither respectful nor
felicitous. It implied that Henry, who as yet at least had punished no one
for speaking freely, was no better than a Herod. Henry's case was that to
marry a brother's wife was not lawful, and the Baptist was of the same
opinion. The Legates answered quietly that the cause had not been
committed to Fisher, and that it was not for him to pronounce judicially
upon it. Wolsey complained that the Bishop had given him no notice of his
intended interference. They continued to examine witnesses as if nothing
had happened. But Fisher's action was not without effect. He was much
respected. The public was divided on the merits of the general question.
Many still thought the meaning of it to be merely that the King was tired
of an old wife and wanted a young one. Courage is infectious, and comment
grew loud and unfavourable. The popular voice might have been disregarded.
But Campeggio, who had perhaps really wavered, not knowing what Clement
wished him to do, gathered heart from Fisher's demonstration. "We are
hurried on," he wrote to Salviati on the 13th of July, "always faster than
a trot, so that some expect a sentence in ten days.... I will not fail in
my duty or office, nor rashly or willingly give offence to any one. When
giving sentence I will have only God before my eyes and the honour of the
Holy See."[76] A week later Du Bellay said that things were almost as the
King wished, and the end was expected immediately, when Campeggio acted on
the Pope's last verbal instructions at their parting at Rome. He was told
to go on to the last, but must pause at the final extremity. He obeyed.
When nothing was left but to pronounce judgment, he refused to speak it,
and said that he must refer back to the Holy See. Wolsey declined to act
without him, and Campeggio, when pressed, if we can believe his own
account of what he said, answered: "Very well, I vote in favour of the
marriage and the Queen. If my colleague agrees, well and good. If not,
there can be no sentence, for we must both agree."[77]

Wolsey's feelings must be conjectured, for he never revealed them. To the
Commissioners at Rome he wrote: "Such discrepancies and contrariety of
opinion has ensued here that the cause will be long delayed. In a week the
process will have to cease, and two months of vacation ensue. Other
counsels, therefore, are necessary, and it is important to act as if the
advocation was granted. Campeggio unites with me to urge the Pope, if it
must be granted, to qualify the language; for if the King be cited to
appear in person or by proxy, and his prerogative be interfered with, none
of his subjects will tolerate it; or if he appears in Italy it will be at
the head of a formidable army.[78] A citation of the King to Rome on
threat of excommunication is no more tolerable than the whole loss of the
King's dignity. If, therefore, the Pope has granted any such advocation,
it must be revoked. If it arrives here before such a revocation, no
mention of it shall be made, not even to the King."[79]

This was Wolsey's last effort. Before his despatch could reach Rome the
resolution was taken. Had it arrived in time, it would have made no
difference while Micer Mai was able to threaten to behead Cardinals in
their own apartments. The cause was advoked, as it was called--reserved to
be heard in the Rota. The Legates' commission was cancelled. The court at
Blackfriars was dissolved, as Campeggio said, in anger, shame, and
disappointment. He had fulfilled his orders not without some alarm for
himself as he thought of his bishopric of Salisbury.

Catherine, springing from despondency into triumph, imagined that all was
over. The suit, she thought, would be instantly recommenced at Rome, and
the Pope would give judgment in her favour without further form. She was
to learn a harsher lesson, and would have consulted better for her
happiness if she had yielded to the Pope's advice and retired into
seclusion. While the Legates were sitting in London, another conference
was being held at Cambray, to arrange conditions of European peace. France
and the Empire adjusted their quarrels for another interval. The Pope and
the Italian Princes were included--England was included also--and the
divorce, the point of central discord between Henry and the Emperor, was
passed over in silence as too dangerous to be touched.




CHAPTER VII.

Call of Parliament--Wolsey to be called to account--Anxiety of the Emperor
to prevent a quarrel--Mission of Eustace Chapuys--Long interview with the
King--Alarm of Catherine--Growth of Lutheranism--The English clergy--Lord
Darcy's Articles against Wolsey--Wolsey's fall--Departure of Campeggio--
Letter of Henry to the Pope--Action of Parliament--Intended reform of the
Church--Alienation of English feeling from the Papacy.


On the collapse of the commission it was at once announced that the King
would summon a Parliament. For many years Wolsey had governed England as
he pleased. The King was now to take the reins in his own hands. The
long-suffering laity were to make their voices heard, and the great
Cardinal understood too well that he was to be called to account for his
stewardship. The Queen, who could think of nothing but her own wrongs,
conceived that the object must be some fresh violence to herself. She had
requested the Pope to issue a minatory brief forbidding Parliament to
meddle with her. She had mistaken the purpose of its meeting, and she had
mistaken the King's character. Important as the divorce question might be,
a great nation had other things to think of which had waited too long. It
had originated in an ambitious scheme of Wolsey to alter the balance of
power in Europe, and to form a new combination which the English generally
disliked. Had his policy been successful he would have been continued in
office, with various consequences which might or might not have been of
advantage to the country. But he had failed miserably. He had drawn the
King into a quarrel with his hereditary ally. He had entangled him, by
ungrounded assurances, in a network of embarrassments, which had been made
worse by the premature and indecent advancement of the Queen's intended
successor. For this the Cardinal was not responsible. It was the King's
own doing, and he had bitterly to pay for it. But Wolsey had misled his
master into believing that there would be no difficulty. In the last
critical moment he had not stood by him as the King had a right to expect;
and, in the result, Henry found himself summoned to appear as a party
before the Pope, the Pope himself being openly and confessedly a creature
in the hands of the Emperor. No English sovereign had ever before been
placed in a situation so degrading.

Parliament was to meet for other objects--objects which could not be
attained while Wolsey was in power and were themselves of incalculable
consequence. But Anne Boleyn was an embarrassment, and Henry did for the
moment hesitate whether it might not be better to abandon her. He had no
desire to break the unity of Christendom or to disturb the peace of his
own kingdom for the sake of a pretty woman. The Duke of Norfolk, though he
was Anne's uncle, if he did not oppose her intended elevation, did nothing
to encourage it. Her father, Lord Wiltshire, had been against it from the
first. The Peers and the people would be the sufferers from a disputed
succession, but they seemed willing to encounter the risk, or at least
they showed no eagerness for the King's marriage with this particular
person. If Reginald Pole is to be believed, the King did once inform the
Council that he would go no further with it. The Emperor, to make retreat
easy to him, had allowed nothing to be said on the subject at Cambray, and
had instructed the Pope to hold his hand and make no further movement. He
sent a new Ambassador to England, on a mission of _doulceur et amytié_.
Eustace Chapuys, the Minister whom he selected, was not perhaps the best
selection which he could have made, and Lord Paget, who knew him well, has
left an account of him not very favourable. "For Chapuys," he said, "I
never took him for a wise man, but for one that used to speak _cum summâ
licentiâ_ whatsoever came _in buccam_, without respect of honesty or
truth, so it might serve his turn, and of that fashion it is small mastery
to be a wise man. He is a great practicer, with which honest term we cover
tale-telling, lying, dissimuling, and flattering."[80] Chapuys being the
authority for many of the scandals about Henry, this description of him by
a competent observer may be borne in remembrance; but there can be no
question that Charles sent him to England on an embassy of peace, and one
diplomatist is not always perhaps the fairest judge of another of the same
trade. The King's hesitation, if he ever did hesitate, was not of long
duration. He had been treated like a child, tricked, played with, trifled
with, and he was a dangerous person to deal with in so light a fashion.
Chapuys reached London in the beginning of September. On landing he found
the citation to Rome had not been officially notified to the King, as a
morsel too big for him to swallow.[81] The King received him politely,
invited him to dine in the palace, and allowed him afterwards to be
introduced to Catherine, who was still residing at the court. Three days
after he had a long interview with Henry. His commission, he said, was to
smooth all differences between the King and his master. The King responded
with equal graciousness, but turned the conversation upon those
differences themselves. The Emperor, he said, had not used him well. The
advocation to Rome was absurd. He had written himself to the Pope with his
own hand, telling him it was not only expedient but absolutely necessary
that the cause should be tried in England. The Roman territories were
still in the occupation of the Imperial troops. The Pope had committed it
to two of his Cardinals, had solemnly promised that it should not be
revoked, and that he would confirm any sentence which the Legates should
pronounce. These engagements the Emperor had obliged the Pope to break. He
himself had not proceeded upon light grounds. He was a conscientious
prince, he said, who preferred his own salvation to all worldly
advantages, as appeared sufficiently from his conduct in the affair. Had
he been differently situated and not attentive to his conscience, he might
have adopted other measures, which he had not taken and never would
take.[82] Chapuys attempted to defend Clement. "Enough of that pope,"
Henry sharply interrupted. "This is not the first time that he has changed
his mind. I have long known his versatile and fickle nature."[83] The
Pope, he went on, "would never dare pronounce sentence, unless it favoured
the Emperor."

Catherine was eagerly communicative. Chapuys learned from her that the
King had offered that the case should be heard at Cambray--which she had,
of course, refused. She was much alarmed about the Parliament, "the King
having played his cards so well that he would have a majority of votes in
his favour." It was quite certain that he meant to persevere. She
professed outwardly that she was personally attached to the King; yet she
desired Chapuys expressly to caution the Emperor against believing that
his conduct had anything to do with conscience. The idea of separation,
she said, had originated entirely in his own iniquity and malice, and when
the treaty of Cambray was completed, he had announced it to her with the
words: "My peace with the Emperor is made: it will last as long as you
choose."[84]

Chapuys had been charged to ascertain the feeling of the English people.
He found them generally well affected to the Queen. But the Lutheran
heresy was creeping in. The Duke of Suffolk had spoken bitterly of Papal
legates, and Chapuys believed if they had nothing to fear but the Pope's
malediction, there were great numbers who would follow the Duke's advice
and make Popes of the King and Bishops, all to have the divorce case tried
in England.[85] The Queen was afraid of pressing her appeal, fearing that
if the Commons in Parliament heard that the King had been summoned to
Rome, measures injurious to her might easily be proposed and carried.[86]
Even the Duke of Norfolk was not satisfactory. He professed to be devoted
to the Emperor; he said he would willingly have lost a hand so that the
divorce question should never have been raised; but it was an affair of
theology and canon law, and he had not meddled with it. If the Emperor
had remained neutral, instead of interfering, it would have been sooner
settled.[87]

But, for the instant, the interests of the people of England were fixed on
a subject more immediately close to them. The sins of the clergy had at
last found them out. They pretended to be a supernatural order, to hold
the keys of heaven and hell, to be persons too sacred for ordinary
authority to touch. Their vices and their tyranny had made them and their
fantastic assumptions no longer bearable, and all Europe was in revolt
against the scandals of the Church and Churchmen. The ecclesiastical
courts, as the pretended guardians of morality, had the laity at their
mercy; and every offence, real or imaginary, was converted into an
occasion of extortion. The courts were themselves nests of corruption;
while the lives and habits of the order which they represented made
ridiculous their affectations of superiority to common men. Clement's
conduct of the divorce case was only a supreme instance of the methods in
which the clerical tribunals administered what they called justice. An
authority equally oblivious of the common principles of right and wrong
was extended over the private lives and language of every family in
Catholic Christendom. In England the cup was full and the day of reckoning
had arrived. I have related in the first volume of my history of the
period the meeting of the Parliament of 1529, and I have printed there the
Petition of the Commons to the Crown, with the Bishops' reply to it.[88] I
need not repeat what has been written already. A few more words are
needed, however, to explain the animosity which broke out against Wolsey.
The great Cardinal was the living embodiment of the detested
ecclesiastical domination, and a representation in his own person of the
worst abuses complained of. He had been a vigorous Minister, full of large
schemes and high ambitions. He had been conscious of much that was wrong.
He had checked the eagerness of the bench of Bishops to interfere with
opinion, had suppressed many of the most disorderly smaller monasteries,
and had founded colleges out of their revenues. But he had left his own
life unreformed, as an example of avarice and pride. As Legate he had
absorbed the control of the entire ecclesiastical organisation. He had
trampled on the Peers. On himself he had piled benefice upon benefice. He
held three great bishoprics, and, in addition to them, the wealthiest of
the abbeys. York or Durham he had never entered; Winchester he may have
visited in intervals of business; and he resided occasionally at the Manor
of the More, which belonged to St. Albans: but this was all his personal
connection with offices to which duties were attached which he would have
admitted to be sacred, if, perhaps, with a smile. As Legate and Lord
Chancellor he disposed of the whole patronage of the realm. Every priest
or abbot who needed a license had to pay Wolsey for it. His officials were
busy in every diocese. Every will that was to be proved, every marriage
within the forbidden degrees, had to pass under their eyes, and from their
courts streams richer than Pactolus flowed into Wolsey's coffers. Foreign
princes, as we have seen, were eager to pile pensions upon him. His wealth
was known to be enormous. How enormous was now to be revealed. Even his
own son--for a son he had--was charged upon the commonwealth. The worst
iniquity of the times was the appointing children to the cure of souls.
Wolsey's boy was educated at Paris, and held benefices worth 1,500 crowns
a year, or 3,000 pounds of modern English money. A political mistake had
now destroyed his credit. His enemies were encouraged to speak, and the
storm burst upon him.

A list of detailed complaints against him survives which is curious alike
from its contents, the time at which it was drawn up, and the person by
whom it was composed--the old Lord Darcy of Templehurst, the leader
afterwards in the Pilgrimage of Grace. Darcy was an earnest Catholic. He
had fought in his youth under Ferdinand at the conquest of Granada. He was
a dear friend of Ferdinand's daughter, and an earnest supporter, against
Wolsey, of the Imperial alliance. His paper is long and the charges are
thrown together without order. The date is the 1st of July, when the
Legates' court had begun its sittings and was to end, as he might well
suppose, in Catherine's ruin. They express the bitterness of Darcy's
feelings. The briefest epitome is all that can be attempted of an
indictment which extended over the whole of Wolsey's public career. It
commences thus:--

"Hereafter followeth, by protestation, articles against the Cardinal of
York, shewed by me, Thomas Darcy, only to discharge my oath and bounden
duty to God and the King, and of no malice.

"1. All articles that touches God and his Church and his acts against the
same.

"2. All that touches the King's estate, honour and prerogative, and
against his laws.

"3. Lack of justice, and using himself by his authority as Chancellor
faculties legatine and cardinal; what wrongs, exactions he hath used.

"4. All his authorities, legatine and other, purchased of the Pope, and
offices and grants that he hath of the King's grace, special commissions
and instructions sent into every shire; he, and the Cardinal's servants,
to be straitly examined of his unlawful acts."

Following vaguely this distribution, Darcy proceeds with his catalogue of
wrongs. Half the list is of reforms commenced and unfinished, everything
disturbed and nothing set right, to "the ruffling of the good order of the
realm." Of direct offences we find Wolsey unexpectedly accused of having
broken the Præmunire statute by introducing faculties from Rome and
allowing the Pope to levy money in the realm contrary to the King's
prerogative royal, while for himself, by "colour of his powers as Cardinal
legate _a latere_ and faculties spiritual and temporal, he had assembled
marvellous and mighty sums of money." Of bishops, abbots, priors, deans,
&c., he had received (other sums) for promotion spiritual since his entry.
He had appropriated the plate and jewels of the suppressed abbeys. He had
raised the "probate duty" all over the realm, the duty going into his own
coffers. He had laid importable charges on the nobles of the realm. He had
Towered, Fleeted, and put to the walls of Calais a number of the noblemen
of England, and many of them for light causes. He had promoted none but
such as served about the King to bring to pass his purposes, or were of
his council in such things as an honest man would not vouchsafe to be
acquainted with. He had hanged, pressed, and banished more men since he
was in authority than had suffered death by way of justice in all
Christendom besides. He had wasted the King's treasure, &c. He had levied
mighty sums of other houses of religion, some for dread to be pulled down,
and others by his feigned visitations under colour of virtuous
reformation. As Chancellor "he had taken up all the great matters
depending in suit to determine after his discretion, and would suffer no
way to take effect that had been devised by other men." In other times
"the best prelate in the realm was contented with one bishoprick." Darcy
demanded that the duties of bishops should be looked into. They should
hold no temporal offices, nor meddle with temporal affairs. They should
seek no dispensation from the Pope. The tenure of land in England should
be looked into, to find what temporal lands were in spiritual men's hands,
by what titles, for what purposes, and whether it was followed or no. The
King's grace should proceed to determine all reformations, of spiritual
and temporal, within his realm. Never more Legate nor Cardinal should be
in England: these legacies and faculties should be clearly annulled and
made frustrate, and search and enquiry be made what had been levied
thereby. He recommended that at once and without notice Wolsey's papers
and accounts should be seized. "Then matters much unknown would come forth
surely concerning his affairs with Pope, Emperor, the French King, other
Princes, and within the realm."[89]

Many of Darcy's charges are really creditable to Wolsey, many more are
exaggerated; but of the oppressive character of his courts, and of the
immense revenue which he drew from them, no denial was possible. The
special interest of the composition, however, is that it expresses
precisely the temper of the Parliament of 1529. It enables us to
understand how the Chancellorship came to be accepted by Sir Thomas More.
It contains the views of conservative Catholic English statesmen who,
while they had no sympathy with changes of doctrine, were weary of
ecclesiastical domination, who desired to restrict the rights of the Pope
in England within the limits fixed by the laws of the Plantagenets, to
relieve the clergy of their temporal powers and employments, and reduce
them to their spiritual functions. Micer Mai and De Soria had said the
same thing; Charles V., likely enough, shared their opinion, though he
could not see his way towards acting upon it. In England it could be acted
upon, and it was.

There is no occasion to repeat the well-known tale of the fall of Wolsey.
He resigned the seals on the 18th of October; his property was seized and
examined into. The Venetian Ambassador reported that his ordinary income
was found to have been 150,000 crowns, besides pensions, gifts from
foreign princes, and irregular contributions from home. His personal
effects were worth half a million more. He said that it had been all
gathered for the King; if the King was pleased to take it before his end,
the King was welcome to it.

The King was thenceforward his own first minister; the Duke of Norfolk
became President of the Council; Suffolk was Vice-President, and Sir
Thomas More Lord Chancellor. But the King intended to rule with Parliament
to advise and to help him. Catherine told Chapuys, in fear for herself,
that the elections to the Lower House had been influenced to her own
injury. She was mistaken, for the elections had not turned on the divorce.
The object of the meeting of the Legislature was to reform the clergy, and
upon this all parties among the laity were agreed. It may be (though the
Queen could not know it) that exertions were made to counteract or
control the local influences of individual nobles or prelates. If the
object was to secure a real representation of popular feeling, it was
right and necessary to protect the electors against the power of
particular persons. But it is at least clear that this Parliament came up
charged with the grievances of which Darcy's indictment was the epitome.

The Houses met on the 3rd of November, and went at once to business. I can
add nothing to what I have written elsewhere on the acts of the first
session. Wolsey was impeached; the Peers would have attainted him or sent
him to trial for high treason; the Commons were more moderate, listening
to Cromwell, who faced unpopularity by defending gallantly his old patron.
But the King himself did not wish the fallen Cardinal to be pressed too
hard; and it was said that, determined to protect him, he forbade the
attainder. He had determined to pardon him, and an attainder would have
made pardon more difficult. Very interesting accounts of Wolsey's own
behaviour in his calamity are found in the letters of the foreign
Ambassadors. Du Bellay saw him on the 17th of October, the day before he
surrendered the Great Seal, and found him entirely broken. He wept; he
"hoped the French King and Madam would have pity on him." His face had
lost its fire; "he did not desire legateship, seal of office, or power; he
was ready to give up everything, to his shirt, and live in a hermitage, if
the King would not keep him in his displeasure." He wished Francis to
write to Henry in his favour. He had been the chief instrument of the
present amity with France; and such a service ought not to have given a
bad impression of him. Suspicions were abroad that he had received large
presents from the French Court; they were probably true, for he said "he
hoped Madam would not do him an injury if it were spoken of."[90]

Nothing could be more piteous. The poor old man was like a hunted animal;
lately lord of the world, and now "none so poor to do him reverence."
Darcy had raised the question of the Præmunire. The ancient Statute of
Provisors had forbidden the introduction of Bulls from Rome, and the
statute was awake again. He was made to confess that the penalties of
Præmunire--confiscation of goods and imprisonment--had been incurred by
him when he published the Bull which made him Legate, and by the use of
which he had unlawfully vexed the greater number of the prelates of the
realm, and the King's other subjects.

His brother Legate, Campeggio, had remained for some weeks in London after
the dissolution of the court. But England was no place for him in the
hurly-burly which had broken loose. He went, and had to submit to the
indignity of having his luggage searched at Dover. The cause alleged was a
fear that he might be taking with him some of Wolsey's jewels. Tradition
said that he had obtained possession of the letters of the King to Anne
Boleyn, and that it was through him that they reached the Vatican. At any
rate, the locks were forced, the trunks inspected, and nothing of
importance was found in them.[91] Campeggio complained to the King of the
violation of his privilege as ambassador. Henry told him ironically that
he had suffered no wrong: his legateship was gone when the cause was
revoked; he had no other commission: he was an English bishop, and so far,
therefore, an English subject. But a courteous apology was made for the
unnecessary violence which had been used;[92] Campeggio's ruffled plumes
were smoothed, and he wrote to Salviati from Paris with the latest news of
Wolsey, telling him "that the King would not go to extremes, but would act
considerately in the matter, as he was accustomed to do in all his
actions."[93]

Although no mention was made in Parliament of the divorce, the subject, of
course, could not sleep. The question of the succession to the crown
having been made so prominent, it would, and must, sooner or later, come
before the Legislature to be settled, and had already become a topic of
general consideration and anxiety. Mary's legitimacy had been impugned.
Falieri, writing from London and reporting what he heard in society, said
that "by English law females were excluded from the throne." Custom might
say so, for no female had, in fact, ever sat on the throne; but enacted
law or rule there was none: it was only one uncertainty the more. At any
rate, Falieri said that the King had determined to go on with the divorce,
that he might have a legitimate male heir.

Henry's experience of Clement had taught him that he need not fear any
further immediate steps. The advocation of the cause implied of itself a
desire for longer delay, and, with more patience than might have been
looked for in such a disappointment, he had resolved to wait for what the
Pope would do. That an English sovereign should plead before the Rota at
Rome was, of course, preposterous. The suggestion of it was an insult. But
other means might be found. He had himself proposed Cambray as a neutral
spot for a first commission; he really believed that the Pope was at
heart on his side, and therefore did not wish to quarrel with him. When
Campeggio was leaving England the King wrote to Clement more politely than
might have been expected. He did not insist that the English commission
should be renewed.

"We could have wished," he said, "not less for your sake than our own,
that all things had been so expedited as corresponded to our expectation,
not rashly conceived, but according to your promises. As it is, we have to
regard with grief and wonder the incredible confusion which has arisen. If
a Pope can relax Divine laws at his pleasure, surely he has as much power
over human laws. We have been so often deceived by your Holiness's
promises that no dependence can be placed on them. Our dignity has not
been consulted in the treatment which we have met with. If your Holiness
will keep the cause now advoked to Rome in your own hands, until it can be
decided by impartial judges, and in an indifferent place, in a manner
satisfactory to our scruples, we will forget what is past, and repay
kindness by kindness."[94]

As the Pope had professed to be ignorant of the extent of his dispensing
power, the King proposed to submit this part of the question to the canon
lawyers of Europe. The Nuncios, meanwhile, in Paris and London advised
that the Pope and the Emperor should write in a friendly way to the King.
Charles was believed in England to have said "that the King should stick
to his wife in spite of his beard." He had not used such words, and ought
to disclaim them, but he might endeavour to persuade the King to let the
divorce drop.

The Parliament meanwhile had been fiercely busy in cutting down the Church
courts--abolishing or limiting the various forms of extortion by which the
laity had been plundered. The clergy were required to reside upon their
benefices. "Pluralities" were restricted. The business of the session had
been a series of Clergy Discipline Acts. The Bishop of Rochester
especially clamoured over the "want of faith" which such Acts exhibited,
but nothing had been done of which the Pope could complain, nothing of
which, perhaps, he did not secretly approve. Catherine, through her agents
at Rome, demanded instant sentence in her cause. The Pope's inclination
seemed again on Henry's side. He described an interview with the Emperor,
who had urged Catherine's case. He professed to have replied that he must
be cautious when the case was not clear. Many things, he said, made for
the King. All the divines were against the power of the Pope to dispense.
Of the canon lawyers, some were against it; and those who were not against
it considered that the dispensing powers could only be used for a very
urgent cause, as, to prevent the ruin of a kingdom. The Pope's function
was to judge whether such a cause had arisen; but no such inquiry was made
when the dispensation of Julius was granted. The Emperor must not be
surprised if he could do no more for the Queen.[95]

The Emperor himself thought of nothing less than taking his uncle "by the
beard." He wished to be reconciled to him if he could find a way to it.
For one thing, he was in sore need of help against the Turks, and Chapuys
was directed to ascertain if Henry would give him money. Henry's reply was
not encouraging, and sounded ominously, as if his mind was making perilous
progress on the great questions of the day. He said it would be a foolish
thing for him to remit money to the Emperor and help him to maintain three
armies in Italy, which ought to be elsewhere. He had consulted his
Parliament, and had found he could not grant it. The said money might be
turned to other use, and be employed to promote dissension among Christian
princes.[96] At a subsequent interview the conversation was renewed and
took a more general turn. The King spoke of the Court of Rome--the
ambitious magnificence of which, he said, "had been the cause of so many
wars, discords, and heresies." Had the Pope and Cardinals, he said,
observed the precepts of the Gospel and attended to the example of the
Fathers of the Church [several of whom the King mentioned, to Chapuys'
surprise], they would have led a different life, and not have scandalised
Christendom by their acts and manners. So far, Luther had told nothing but
the truth; and had Luther limited himself to inveighing against the vices,
abuses, and errors of the clergy, instead of attacking the Sacraments of
the Church, everyone would have gone with him; he would himself have
written in his favour, and taken pen in hand in his defence. Into the
Church in his own dominions he hoped, little by little, to introduce
reforms and end the scandal.[97]

These expressions were dangerous enough, but there was worse to follow.
"Henry maintained that the only power which Churchmen had over laymen was
absolution from sin"; Chapuys found that he had told the Queen that he was
now waiting for the opinions of the foreign doctors; when he had obtained
these he would forward them to Rome; and should not the Pope, in
conformity with the opinions so expressed, declare the marriage null and
void, he would denounce the Pope as a heretic and marry whom he
pleased.[98]

"The Lady Anne," Chapuys said, "was growing impatient, complaining that
she was wasting her time and youth to no purpose." The House of Commons
had already "clipped the claws" of the clergy, and it was not impossible
that, on the plea of the various and contradictory judgments on the
matter, they and the people might consent to the divorce.

The hope that the King might be held back by national disapproval was thus
seen to be waning. The national pride had been touched by the citation of
an English sovereign to plead before a foreign court. Charles V. feared
that the Pope, alarmed at the prospect of losing England, would "commit
some new folly" which might lead to war.[99] The English Nuncio in fact
informed Chapuys, much to the latter's astonishment, that the Pope had
ordered him to find means to reconcile the King and the Emperor. Chapuys
thought the story most unlikely. The Emperor would never have trusted the
Pope with such a commission, nor was the Pope a promising mediator, seeing
that he was more hated in England than might have been supposed.

There were evident signs now that the country meant to support the King.
The Duke of Norfolk told the Ambassador that unless the Emperor would
permit his master to divorce the Queen and take another wife, there was no
remedy left. The King's scruples of conscience, instead of abating, were
on the increase, owing to the opinions of others who thought as he did,
and no one in the world could turn him.[100] Chapuys thought it more
likely than not that the question would be introduced at once into
Parliament, where he had heard that a majority had been bribed or gained
over to the King's side. With the consent of the Commons he would consider
himself secure all round. Should the Pope pronounce in favour of the
Queen, the English would say that the sentence was unjust, for, besides
the suspicion and ill-will they had towards the Pope and other
ecclesiastical judges, they would allege that in confirming the Bull of
Pope Julius, the Pope and Cardinals would be only influenced by their own
interest "to increase the authority of the Pope, and procure him money by
such dispensations."[101]

At this moment Chapuys feared some precipitate step on Henry's part.
Norfolk, whom he saw frequently, told him that "there was nothing which
the King would not grant the Emperor to obtain his consent, even to
becoming his slave for ever."[102] "The reform of the clergy was partly
owing to the anger of the people at the advocation of the cause to Rome."
"Nearly all the people hated the priests," Chapuys said--an important
testimony from an unwilling witness. Peers and Commons might be brought to
agree that Popes could grant no dispensations in marriages or anything
else, and so save their money. If there was nothing to restrain them but
respect for the Pope, they would not care much for him, and the Holy See
would have no more obedience in England than in Germany. The Duke of
Norfolk talked as menacingly as the rest. He said publicly to the
Ambassador "that the Pope himself had been the first to perceive the
invalidity of the marriage, had written to say that it could not stand,
and would so declare himself, or have it legally declared.... and now,
being in the Emperor's power, the same Pope would have the case tried and
determined only as the Emperor wished."[103]

Under these circumstances Chapuys could only advise that means should be
taken to weaken or defer the action of Parliament. The Cambray proposal
might be revived, or a suggestion made that the cause should be argued
before the Sorbonne at Paris. The Duke of Norfolk could perhaps be gained
over; but, unfortunately, he and Queen Catherine were not on good terms.
The Duke was afraid also--the words show how complicated were the threads
which ruled the situation--that, should the King dismiss the Lady Anne,
the Cardinal would in all probability regain his influence, owing to his
uncommon ability and the King's readiness to restore him to favour.
Everyone perceived the King bore the Cardinal no real ill-will, and should
the King's affection for the lady abate in the least, the Cardinal would
soon find means of settling the divorce in a manner which would cost the
opposite party their lives.[104] In this letter of Chapuys is the first
allusion which I have found to the Mary Boleyn scandal, then beginning to
be heard of in circles opposed to the divorce: "People say," he wrote,
"that it is the King's evil destiny that impels him; for had he, as he
asserts, only attended to the voice of conscience, there would have been
still greater affinity to contend with in this intended marriage than in
that of the Queen his wife."[105] The story is referred to as a fresh
feature of the case, which had not before been heard of.




CHAPTER VIII.

Hope of Wolsey to return to power--Anger of Anne Boleyn and the Duke of
Norfolk--Charles V. at Bologna--Issue of a prohibitory brief--The Pope
secretly on Henry's side--Collection of opinions--Norfolk warns Chapuys--
State of feeling in England--Intrigues of Wolsey--His illness and death.


The momentous year of 1529 wore out. Parliament rose before Christmas;
Peers and Commons dispersed to their homes; and the chief parties in the
drama were still undetermined what next to do. The Duke of Norfolk was
afraid of Wolsey's return to power. It was less impossible than it seemed.
A parliamentary impeachment, though let fall, ought to have been fatal;
but none knew better than Wolsey by how transitory a link the parties who
had combined for his ruin were really held together. More and Darcy had
little sympathy with the advanced Reformers whose eyes were fixed on
Germany. They agreed in cutting down the temporal encroachments of the
clergy; they agreed in nothing besides. The King had treated Wolsey with
exceptional forbearance. He had left him the Archbishopric of York, with
an income equal in modern money to eight or ten thousand pounds a year,
and had made him large presents besides of money, furniture, and jewels.
Finding himself so leniently dealt with, the Cardinal recovered heart, and
believed evidently that his day was not over. In a letter to Gardiner,
written in January, 1530, he complained as a hardship of having been made
to surrender Winchester and St. Albans. He had not "deserved to lose
them," he said, "and had not expected to lose them on his submission. His
long services deserved at least a pension."[106] The King agreed, or
seemed to agree; for a further grant of 3,000 crowns was allowed him,
charged on the See of Winchester. Anne Boleyn was furious. The Duke of
Norfolk swore that "sooner than suffer Wolsey's return to office he would
eat him up alive."[107] Though he had never seen his diocese, the Cardinal
was making no haste to go thither. He lingered on at Esher, expecting to
be sent for, and it is evident from the alarm of his rivals that there was
real likelihood of it. The Lady Anne so hated him that she quarrelled with
her uncle Norfolk for not having pressed his attainder. Catherine liked
him equally ill, for she regarded him as the cause of her sufferings. He
had been "disevangelised," as Norfolk called it; but Henry missed at every
turn his dexterity and readiness of hand. He had monopolised the whole
business of the realm; the subordinate officials everywhere were his
creatures, and the threads of every branch of administration had centred
in his cabinet; without him there was universal confusion. The French
Court was strongly in his favour. He had himself made the Anglo-French
alliance; and the Anglo-French alliance was still a necessity to Henry, if
he meant to defy the Emperor and retain an influence at Rome. The King
wished, if he could, to keep on terms with the Pope, and Wolsey, if any
one, could keep the Papal Court within limits of moderation.

The situation was thus more critical than ever. Catherine knew not what
to look for. Those among the peers who, like Norfolk, would naturally have
been her friends, and would have preferred that the divorce should never
have been spoken of, yet saw no reason why on a private ground the Emperor
should light up a European war again. They conceived that by protesting he
had done enough for his honour, and that he ought to advise his aunt to
give way. According to Chapuys, attempts were privately made to obtain a
declaration of opinion from the House of Commons before Parliament
rose.[108] He says that the attempts were unsuccessful. It may have been
so.

But Chapuys could not hope that the unwillingness would last. Charles was
determined to stand by Catherine to all extremities. Henry was threatening
to marry his mistress whether the Pope consented or not, professing to
care not a straw, and almost calling the Pope a heretic. The Pope did not
wish to be a party to a scandal, but also would be sorry to see the King
lose all submission and reverence to the See of Rome. For himself, the
Emperor said he could not see how the affair would end, "but he was
certain that Henry would persist, and war would probably come of it." He
directed his brother Ferdinand to avoid irritating the German Lutherans,
as France might probably take part with England.[109] Fresh efforts were
made to persuade Catherine to take the veil. They were as unsuccessful as
before.[110]

The Emperor was now in Italy. He had gone to Bologna for his coronation on
the conclusion of the Peace of Cambray, and the Pope was to be made to
feel the weight of his Imperial presence. Henry used the occasion to send
a deputation to Bologna, composed of the Earl of Wiltshire, Anne's father,
who was personally known to Charles, Dr. Cranmer, then coming into
prominence, and Stokesly, the Bishop of London, who, having been first on
Catherine's side, had been converted. They were directed to lay before the
Emperor the motives for the King's action, to protest against his
interference, and to explain the certain consequences if he persisted in
supporting the Queen.

The Emperor gave a cold answer, and declined to hear the Earl's
instructions, while the Pope, the Earl said, was led by the Emperor, and
dared not displease him. The second act of the drama was now to open, and
Clement was made to strike the first blow. In consequence of the reports
from Catherine and Chapuys that Henry was collecting the opinions of the
canonists of Europe, and intended to act on them if favourable, a brief
was issued on the 7th of March ordering the King to restore Catherine to
her rights, and prohibiting him from making a second marriage while the
suit was undetermined. The divines and lawyers of Catholic Europe were at
the same time threatened with excommunication if they presumed to declare
themselves favourable to the divorce. But though the voice was Clement's,
the hand was the Emperor's. Clement was being dragged along against his
will, and was still "facing both ways" in honest or dishonest
irresolution. While issuing the brief under compulsion, he said precisely
the opposite in his communication with the French Ambassador, the Bishop
of Tarbes. The Ambassador was able to assure his own master that the Pope
would never give sentence in Catherine's favour. In direct contradiction
of the brief, the Bishop wrote "that the Pope had told him more than three
times in secret he would be glad if the marriage between Henry and Anne
was already made, either by dispensation of the English Legate or
otherwise, provided it was not by his authority or in diminution of his
powers of dispensation and limitation of divine law."[111] In England the
Pope had still his own Nuncio--a Nuncio who, as Chapuys declared, was
"heart and soul" with the King. He was the brother of Sir Gregory Casalis,
Henry's agent at Rome, and Henry was said to have promised him a bishopric
as soon as his cause should be won. The Pope could not have been ignorant
of the disposition of his own Minister.

Chapuys reported a mysterious State secret which had reached him through
Catherine's physician. The Smalcaldic League was about to be formed among
the Protestant Princes of Germany. Francis was inviting the King to
support them and to join with himself in encouraging them to dethrone the
Emperor; the King was said to have agreed on the ground that the Pope and
the Emperor had behaved ill to him, and the probability was that both
France and England in the end would become Lutheran.

Had there been nothing else, the Queen's sterility was held a sufficient
ground for the divorce. If she had been barren from the first, the
marriage would have been held invalid at once. Now that the hope of
succession was gone, the Pope, it was said, ought to have ended it.[112]

The King had been busy all the winter carrying out his project of
collecting the opinions of the learned. The Pope's prohibition not having
been issued in England, his own Bishops, the Universities, and the
canonists had declared themselves in favour of the divorce. The assent had
not in all instances been given very willingly. Oxford and Cambridge had
attempted a feeble resistance, and at Oxford the Commissioners had been
pelted with stones. Still, given it had been, and the conservative Peers
and gentry were coming to the same conclusion. The King was known to be
wishing to recall Wolsey. The return of Wolsey to power might imply the
acceptance of the French policy; perhaps the alliance with the
Lutherans--at any rate, war with the Emperor. The Duke of Norfolk and his
friends were English aristocrats, adherents of the old traditions,
dreading and despising German revolutionists; but they believed that the
King and the Emperor could only be drawn together by Charles's consent to
the divorce. The King, Norfolk said to Chapuys, was so much bent on it
that no one but God could turn him. He believed it imperative for the
welfare of the realm that his master should marry again and have male
succession; he would give all that he possessed for an hour's interview
with the Emperor; if his Majesty would but consent to the marriage, the
friendship between him and the King would then be indissoluble;[113] the
divorce was nothing by the side of the larger interests at issue; "the
King," it was rumoured, "had written, or was about to write, to the
Archbishop of Canterbury, that if the Pope persisted in refusing justice,
his own and all Church authority would be at an end in England;" the
nobles and people, provoked and hurt at the advocation of the suit to
Rome, were daily more and more incensed against Churchmen, and would
become Lutherans in the end.[114] The Pope had confessed that the presence
of the Imperial army in Italy left him no liberty. If revolution came, the
Emperor would be the cause of it. The Duke spoke with the indignation of
an Englishman at a rumour that the Emperor had "threatened to use all his
power in the Queen's support." Such menaces, he said, were useless, and
the nation would not endure them. Foreign princes had no authority over
English kings.

Chapuys did not mend matters by saying that the Emperor was not thinking
of employing force, for he did not believe that the King would give
occasion for it. The Emperor's interference, indeed, would be unnecessary,
for the Duke must be aware that if the divorce was proceeded with there
would be a civil war in England.[115] Chapuys was vain of his insight into
things and characters. Like so many of his successors, he mistook the
opinion of a passionate clique of priests and priest-ridden malcontents
for the general sentiment of the nation. They told him, as they told other
Spanish ambassadors after him, that all the world thought as they did.
Fanatics always think so; and the belief that they were right proved in
the end the ruin of the Spanish empire. In the present instance, however,
Chapuys may be pardoned for his error. Norfolk imagined that Wolsey was
scheming for a return to power on the old anti-Imperial lines. Wolsey was
following a more dangerous line of his own. Impatient with the delay in
his restoration, he imagined that by embroiling matters more fatally he
could make his own help indispensable; and he was drifting into what can
only be called treachery--treachery specially dishonourable to him.
Wolsey, the originator of the divorce and the French alliance, had now
become the friend of Catherine and the secret adviser of Chapuys. He had
welcomed, had perhaps advised, the issue of the prohibitory Papal brief.
Copies of it were sent for from Flanders to be shown in England. "The
Queen," wrote Chapuys on the 10th of May,[116] "is now firmer than ever,
and believes the King will not dare make the other marriage; if he does,
which may God prevent, I suspect he will repent and be thankful to return
to his first marriage, if by so doing he could be freed from his second.
_This is the opinion of Cardinal Wolsey and of many others._ The Cardinal
would have given his archbishopric that this had been done two years ago.
He would have been better revenged on the intrigue which has ruined him."

These words, taken by themselves, prove that Wolsey was now in the
confidence of Catherine's friends, but would not justify further
inference. Another letter which follows leaves no room for doubt.

On the 15th of June Chapuys writes again.[117] "I have a letter from the
Cardinal's physician, in which he tells me that his master, not knowing
exactly the state of the Queen's affairs, cannot give any special advice
upon them; but with fuller information would counsel and direct as if he
was to gain Paradise by it, as on her depended his happiness, honour, and
peace of mind. As things stood he thought that the Pope should proceed to
the weightier censures, and should call in the secular arm; there was want
of nerve in the way in which things were handled."[118] The calling in
the secular arm meant invasion and open war. To advise it was treasonable
in any English subject. There may be circumstances under which treason of
such a kind might be morally defended. No defence, moral or political, can
be made for Wolsey; and it was the more discreditable because at this time
he was professing the utmost devotion to his King, and endeavouring to
secure his confidence. Three different petitions Norfolk discovered him to
have sent in, "desiring as much authority as ever he had." Norfolk no
doubt watched him, and may have learnt enough to suspect what he was
doing. The whispers and the messages through the intriguing physician had
not gone unobserved. The King persisted in his generous confidence, and
could not be persuaded that his old friend could be really
treacherous,[119] but he consented to send him down to his diocese. Wolsey
went, still affecting his old magnificence, with a train of six hundred
knights and gentlemen; but he never reached his cathedral city. Chapuys
heard, to his alarm, that the physician was arrested and was in the Tower.
He congratulated himself that, were all revealed which had passed between
him and Wolsey, nothing could be discovered which would compromise his own
safety. But it was true that Wolsey's physician had betrayed his master,
revealing secrets which he had bound himself never to tell. He had
confessed, so Chapuys learnt, that the Cardinal had advised the Pope to
excommunicate the King, if he did not send away the "Lady" from the court,
hoping thus "to raise the country and obtain the management."[120] Too
evidently the Cardinal had been intriguing, and not honourably, merely for
his own purposes. He might have persuaded himself that the divorce would
be injurious to the country; but after the part which he had played it was
not for him to advise the Pope to strike at his master, whom he had
himself tempted to go so deep with it. The King was convinced at last.
Orders were sent down to arrest him and bring him back to London. He knew
that all was now over with him, and that he would not be again forgiven.
He refused to take food, and died on his way at Leicester Abbey on St.
Andrew's Day. He was buried, it was observed, in the same church where the
body lay of Richard III. One report said that he had starved himself;
another that he had taken poison. Chapuys says "that he died like a good
Christian, protesting that he had done nothing against the King." His
designs had failed, whatever they might have been, and he ended his great
career struggling ineffectually to conjure back into the vase the spirit
which he had himself let loose.




CHAPTER IX.

Danger of challenging the Papal dispensing power--The Royal family of
Spain--Address of the English Peers to the Pope--Compromise proposed by
the Duke of Norfolk--The English Agents at Rome--Arrival of a new Nuncio
in England--His interview with the King--Chapuys advises the King's
excommunication--Position of the English clergy--Statute of Provisors--The
clergy in a Præmunire--Remonstrances of the Nuncio--Despair of Catherine--
Her letter to the Pope--Henry prepares for war--The introduction of briefs
from Rome forbidden--Warnings given to the Spanish Ambassador and the
Nuncio.


The question whether the Pope had power to license marriages within the
forbidden degrees affected interests immeasurably wider than the domestic
difficulties of Henry VIII. Innumerable connections had been contracted,
in reliance upon Papal dispensations, the issue of which would be
illegitimate if the authority was declared to be insufficient. The Emperor
himself was immediately and personally concerned. Emmanuel of Portugal had
been three times married. His first wife was Isabel, daughter of Ferdinand
and Isabella, Catherine's sister and Charles's aunt. His second wife was
her sister Maria; his third, Charles's sister Eleanor. Charles's own
Empress was the child of the second of these marriages, and they had all
been contracted under dispensations from Rome. A sudden change of the law
or the recognition in a single instance that the Pope's authority in such
matters might be challenged would create universal disturbance; and it was
not for Catherine's sake alone that the Emperor had so peremptorily
resisted Henry's demand. The difficulty would have been evaded had
Catherine agreed to take the vows; and Henry himself, when Catherine
refused, had been so far conscious of the objection that he had hitherto
based his demand on the irregularity of the original Bull of Pope Julius.
Clement had said often that a way could be found if Charles would consent;
but Charles had not consented. In England, the marriage having been once
challenged, a decision of some kind was necessary to avoid a disputed
succession, and larger issues had now to be raised. The Emperor having
dismissed the English Embassy at Bologna with scant courtesy, the Pope, as
we have seen, had fallen back secretly on his old wish that Henry would
take the matter into his own hands, disregard the inhibition, and marry as
he pleased, without throwing the responsibility on himself. Henry,
however, after the assurances which the Pope had given him, was determined
that he should not escape in this way. He had gained or extorted a
favourable opinion from his own learned corporations. Francis had assisted
him to a similar opinion from the University of Paris. Confident in these
authorities, a great body of English peers, spiritual and temporal, now
presented a formal demand to Clement that the King's petition should be
conceded, and intimated that if it was again refused they must seek a
remedy for themselves. Wolsey himself signed, for the petition was drawn
in the summer before his death. Archbishop Warham signed, followed by
bishops, abbots, dukes, earls, and barons. Some, doubtless, had to strain
their consciences, but the act as a whole must be taken as their own. The
King, unless he was supported by the people, had no means of forcing them
or of punishing them if they refused. Norfolk still laboured desperately
to work upon Chapuys. He told him, before the address was despatched,
that, as there seemed no other way of bringing the business to an end, he
would sacrifice the greater part of what he owned in the world if God
would be pleased to take to himself the Queen and his niece also,[121] for
the King would never enjoy peace of mind till he had made another
marriage, for the relief of his conscience and the tranquillity of the
realm, which could only be secured by male posterity to succeed to the
crown.

The King, Norfolk said, could not plead at Rome, which was garrisoned by a
Spanish army, and the Pope would do the Emperor's bidding if it was to
dance in the streets in a clown's coat; the Queen objected to a trial in
England; but could not a neutral place be found with impartial judges?
Might not the Cardinal of Liège be trusted, and the Bishop of Tarbes?

The blunt and honest Norfolk was an indifferent successor to the dexterous
Cardinal. To wish that Catherine and Anne Boleyn were both dead was a
natural, but not a valuable, aspiration. A neutral place of trial was, no
doubt, desirable, and the Cardinal of Liège might be admissible, but de
Tarbes would not do at all. "He had been one of the first," Chapuys
remarked, "to put the fancy in the King's head."[122]

At Rome the diplomatic fencing continued, the Pope secretly longing to
"commit some folly" and to come to terms with Henry, while the Imperial
agents kept their claws fixed upon him. In October Mai reported that
Henry's representatives were insisting that Clement should dissolve the
marriage without legal process, on the ground that the kingdom must have
an heir, and because the King protested that he was living in mortal sin.
If this could not be done, the Pope should at least promise that if the
King married he should not be proceeded against. The Pope seemed too much
inclined to listen;[123] but with Mai at his shoulder, he could not afford
to be valiant. He was made to answer that he had done his best; but he
could not reject the Queen's appeal; the King had not named a proctor to
appear for him, and therefore delay had been unavoidable; the threat of
the Peers in their address that unless the divorce was granted they would
seek a remedy elsewhere, was unworthy of them, and could not have been
sanctioned by the King; he had always wished to comply with the King's
requests when it could be done with justice.[124]

True to his policy of doing nothing and trusting to time, Clement hoped to
tire Henry out by smooth words and hopes indirectly conveyed; but he was
slowly swept on by the tide, and, when forced to act at all, had to act at
Mai's dictation. The Nuncio in England had been too openly on Henry's
side. A change was necessary. John Casalis was recalled. The Baron de
Burgo was sent to succeed him, who was expected to be of sterner material.
Chapuys had ascertained from two legal friends in the House of Commons
that, when the next session opened, the divorce would be brought before
Parliament, and that Parliament would stand by the King; also that M. du
Bellay had come from Paris with promises from Francis to settle matters
with the Pope afterwards, if the King cut the knot and married.[125]
Unless the Emperor gave way, of which there was no hope, or unless the
Pope dared the Emperor's displeasure, to which Clement was as disinclined
as ever, a breach with the Papacy seemed now unavoidable. His Holiness
still hoped, however, that there might be a third alternative.

The new Nuncio reached England in the middle of September. He reported
briefly that at his first interview the King told him that, unless the
cause was committed to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the English
Bishops, he would act for himself, since he knew that the Pope had
promised the Emperor to declare for the Queen. Chapuys supplied the
Emperor with fuller particulars of the interview. The Nuncio had declared
to the King that, in view of the injury likely to ensue to the authority
of the Church, "his Holiness would rather die or resign the Papacy than
that the cause should not be settled to the mutual satisfaction of those
concerned in it." The King, instead of replying graciously, as the Nuncio
expected, had broken into violent abuse of the Pope himself and the whole
Roman Court. The Church, Henry had said, required a thorough reformation,
and the Church should have it. The Pope alone was to blame for the
difficulty in which he found himself. He had sent him a brief from
Orvieto, admitting the divorce to be a necessity, and now he had promised
the Emperor, as he knew from good authority, that judgment should be given
for the Queen. He would not endure such treatment. He would never consent
that the cause should be decided at Rome, or in any place where either
Pope or Emperor had jurisdiction. It was an ancient privilege of England,
"that no cause having its origin in that kingdom should be advoked to
another." If the Pope would not do him justice, he would appeal to his
Parliament, which was about to assemble, and if the Emperor threatened
him with war, he hoped to be able to defend himself. The Nuncio had
deprecated precipitate action. If the King would only do nothing, the
Pope, he said, would pause also, till an amicable settlement could be
arrived at; but the King would promise nothing; "he would act as seemed
best to himself."

Henry being thus peremptory, Chapuys and the Nuncio had to consider what
was to be done. The Pope, before the Nuncio's despatch, had received
private advices from Wolsey, of which the Baron de Burgo had been
informed. The evil, Wolsey had admitted, was too far gone for gentle
treatment: it needed cautery and incision; but they must proceed
cautiously. If the Pope used threats, the King would go at once to
Parliament; there would then be war, in which France would take a part.
Might not a personal interview be brought about between the King and the
Emperor? The Nuncio could not see his way, but was willing to be guided by
Chapuys. Chapuys was for instant action on the Pope's part. Moderation, he
said, was useless. He believed (of course Wolsey had told him so) that, if
the Pope would deliver sentence at Rome immediately, the King would find
no one in the realm, or out of it, to help him in a quarrel against the
Church. The responsibility ought not to be thrown upon the Emperor. The
Pope must speak, and all good Catholics would be at his side.[126] The
Nuncio agreed. The clergy in England were irritated and alarmed, and the
opportunity was favourable. The Nuncio and the Ambassadors decided between
them that the Pope was to be advised to end the cause at once, threaten
the King with excommunication, and let a copy of the brief be in England
before Parliament opened.

Chapuys, well as he thought that he understood England, had something to
learn about it which was to be a disagreeable surprise. He had imagined
that the Pope's authority, when boldly asserted there, had never been
successfully resisted. Tradition remembered Anselm and Becket. It had
forgotten the legislation of the Edwards and of Richard II. According to
Chapuys, the Pope was to issue a brief forbidding Parliament to meddle in
the divorce case. There were laws on the statute book which forbade the
interference of the Pope under any circumstances in the internal affairs
of the English realm. Should the Pope, by bull or brief, by presentation
to offices of the Church or by delegation of his authority, attempt to
exercise direct jurisdiction in England to the prejudice of the rights of
the Crown, all persons who introduced such bulls or briefs, who recognized
the Pope's pretensions or acted on his orders, fell under Præmunire--a
vague but terrible consequence, almost as fatal as a proved charge of
treason. The statutes had been long obsolete. The sword was in its
scabbard. Wolsey had forgotten their existence when he sought and accepted
the position of Legate of the Holy See. Henry had forgotten them when he
applied for a Legatine commission to try his cause in London. The clergy
who had claimed to be independent of the State, to be an _imperium in
imperio_ with the Pope at their head, the officials who had made the name
of a Church court execrated in every county in England--all had forgotten
them. But the Acts themselves were unrepealed, and survived as a monument
of the spirit of a past generation. Doubtless it was known that the Pope
was being urged to violence. Doubtless it was known that large numbers of
the clergy were prepared to stand by him, in terror at the threatened
Reformation. The blow was to be parried by an appeal to the historical
precedents of the realm. These impatient persons were to learn that,
instead of joining in attack upon the King, they would have enough to do
to purchase their pardons for their own offences. The well-tempered steel
sprang to light again bright as ever, and while the Nuncio was dreaming of
excommunication and interdict, he learnt to his astonishment that the
subject coming before Parliament was not the divorce of the Queen, but the
position of the whole spiritualty of the realm.

By recognising Wolsey as Legate from the Holy See the entire clergy were
found to be under Præmunire. On the divorce, perhaps, or on
excommunication arising out of it, there might still have been a
difference of opinion in Parliament; but the Papal authority was now to be
argued there on the lines of the past development of English liberty.
Notice of what was coming was given at the beginning of October by a
proclamation warning all persons of the illegality of introducing briefs
from Rome. The Nuncio rushed to the council chamber; he saw the Dukes of
Norfolk and Suffolk; he asked passionately what was meant? what was the
Pope accused of? what English privileges had he violated? why had he not
been warned beforehand? The two Dukes answered "that they cared nothing
for Pope or Popes in England--not even if St. Peter himself came to life
again. The King was Emperor and Pope in his own dominions. The Pope was
alienating the English people, and, if he wished to recover their
affection, he must deserve it by attending to their petitions."[127]

The Nuncio assumed a bold face and told them they would find themselves
mistaken if they thought they could intimidate the Holy See. He applied to
the King. Henry told him that nothing had been published to the Pope's
injury. He was merely using his prerogative to guard against opposition to
the ordinances which he had made, or was about to make, for the
reformation of the clergy. He had gone promptly to work, lest the Pope
should issue an inhibition. The Nuncio knew not what to make of it. Queen
Catherine was greatly disturbed; she feared the edict was a proof that the
King was not afraid of the Pope after all. On the whole, the Nuncio
considered that an attempt was being made to frighten him, and he sent off
fresh letters advising the Pope to proceed at once to pass sentence.[128]

Henry was, in fact, checkmating them all. With the help of the revived
Statute of Provisors he was able to raise the whole question of the Pope's
authority in England without fresh legislation on present points of
difference. Parliament, which was to have met in October, was prorogued
till January, to mature the intended measures. The King went to Hampton
Court. He sent for the Nuncio to come to him. He told him that by the
citation to Rome the Pope had violated the privileges of sovereign
princes, and had broken the promise which he had given him in writing at
Orvieto. If the Pope showed no more consideration for him, he would have
to show that the Pope's pretension to authority was a usurpation, and very
serious consequences would then follow.

The King, the Nuncio said, spoke with much show of regret and with tears
in his eyes. He added that the present Parliament had been called at the
request of the nation for the restraint of the clergy. They were so hated
throughout the realm, both by nobles and people, that, but for his
protection, they would be utterly destroyed. He should wait to take action
till February, to see whether the Pope would meanwhile change his conduct
towards him.[129]

Norfolk, to whom the Nuncio went next, gave him no comfort; he said that,
"though Queen Catherine was a good woman, her coming to England had been
the curse of the country;" God had shown his displeasure at the marriage
by denying the King a male heir; if the King should die without a son, old
feuds would be reopened and the realm would be plunged into misery. It was
not tolerable that the vital interests of England should be sacrificed to
the Emperor. He advised the Nuncio to use his influence with the Pope.
"The King's severity might then perhaps be modified."

One more direct appeal was made by Henry himself to Clement. "Finding his
just demands neglected, the requests of the King of France unattended to,
and the address of his nobles despised and derided," he perceived, he
said, that the Pope was wholly devoted to the Emperor's will, and
ordained, prorogued and altered to serve the times. He required the Pope,
therefore, to set down in writing his grounds for rejecting his suit. He
demanded once more that the cause should be heard in England before
indifferent judges. "The laws of the realm would not suffer the contrary;
he abhorred contention, but would not brook denial."[130]

Queen Catherine was in despair. The hearing of the cause had again been
postponed at Rome. A party in her favour had been formed in the House of
Commons, but were at a loss what course to follow. If the Pope would give
a decision they would know what to do, but the delay of sentence seemed to
imply that he was himself uncertain where the right really lay. They
questioned Chapuys whether any directions had arrived from Rome on which
to rest their opposition, hoping perhaps that an inhibitory brief had been
issued. Opposition, they feared, would be useless without further action
at the Papal Court.

"The Pope," Chapuys said, "had been so dilatory and so dissembling that he
was not in favour with either side."[131] A change was passing over public
feeling. Every day gave strength to the King's cause. Archbishop Warham,
who had been hitherto for the Queen, was beginning to waver, and even to
think that he might try the suit in his own court.[132] The Queen, the
Nuncio, the Bishop of Rochester, and the friends who remained staunch to
her agreed unanimously that the boldest course would be the wisest.
Immediate sentence at Rome in the Queen's favour was the only remedy.
Gentleness was thrown away. Let the King see that the Pope was really in
earnest, and he would not venture to go further. Catherine herself wrote
to Clement with the passion of a suffering woman. "Delay," she said,
"would be the cause of a new hell upon earth, the remedy for which would
be worse than the worst that had ever yet been tried."[133] She did not
blame the King. The fault was with the wicked counsellors who misled him.
Once delivered out of their hands, he would be as dutiful a son of the
Church as he had ever been.[134]

It is noticeable throughout that each of the two parties assumed that the
Pope's judgment when he gave it must be on its own side. The King demanded
a sentence in favour of the divorce; the Queen and the Emperor a sentence
that the marriage was good. The Pope was to try the cause; but neither
admitted that the right or the wrong was doubtful, or that the Pope must
hear the arguments before he could decide. Doubtless they were justified
in so regarding the Pope's tribunal. The trial would be undertaken, if a
trial there was to be, with a foregone conclusion; but what kind of a
court of justice could the Rota be if it could be so spoken of, and its
master so be addressed?

Most idolatries pass through the same stage. The idol is whipped before he
is finally discarded. The Holy Ghost is still invited to assist the
Cathedral Chapters in the choice of a Bishop, but must choose the person
already named by the Prime Minister under pain of Præmunire. Men should
choose their idols better. Reasonable beings are not fit objects of such
treatment. Much is to be said in favour of stuffed straw or the graven
image, which the scourge itself cannot force to speak. Anne Boleyn was
jubilant. "She is braver than a lion," wrote Chapuys. She said to one of
the Queen's ladies that she wished all the Spaniards in the world were in
the sea. The lady told her such language was disrespectful to her
mistress. She said she cared nothing for the Queen, and would rather see
her hanged than acknowledge her as her mistress.[135] Clement, goaded by
Micer Mai, issued at last a second brief, repeating the terms of the
first, again forbidding the second marriage, and threatening Parliaments,
Bishops, and Divines in England if they dared to interfere. But between a
brief and the execution of it was a long interval. Sentence on the
original cause he would not pass; and in leaving his final decision
doubtful he left opinion free to the rest of the world. The brief was to
be presented by the Nuncio. The Pope accompanied it with a deprecatory,
and not undignified, letter to Henry from himself.[136] Chapuys feared
that "by his loose talk" Clement was secretly encouraging the King. The
brief might bring on a crisis. He did not relish the prospect of remaining
in England "in the boiling vortex likely to be opened." But as the Queen
insisted that he should stay, he pressed unceasingly for "excommunication
and interdict." "The Emperor might then make effectual war with the
English. They would lose their trade with Spain and Flanders, and the
disaffection to the King and Council would be greatly increased."[137]

On the spot and surrounded by an atmosphere of passion, Chapuys was in
favour of war. The Emperor, still unwilling to part with the hereditary
friendship of England, was almost as reluctant as Clement. He had supposed
that Henry was influenced by a passing infatuation, that by supporting
Catherine he would please the greater part of the nation, and ultimately,
perhaps, secure the gratitude of Henry himself. He had not allowed for the
changes which were passing over the mind of the English people. He had not
foreseen the gathering indignation of a proud race jealous of their
liberties when they saw him dictating to the Spiritual Judge of Europe on
a question which touched their own security. But he had gone too far to
draw back. He found himself sustained, not only by Spanish opinion, but by
the part of his subjects about whom he had felt most uneasy. The Italian
universities had for the most part gone with Paris and declared against
the dispensing power. In Germany Henry had been disappointed. The King of
England had been an old antagonist of Luther. Sir Thomas More, as
Chancellor, had been enforcing the heresy laws against Luther's English
proselytes with increased severity. The Lutherans in turn declared
decidedly against Henry's divorce. The Emperor was their feudal sovereign.
They saw no reason for entering into a new quarrel with him on a cause
which, so far as they understood, was none of their own. Henry was
evidently alarmed. Chapuys reported that he was busy building ships,
casting cannon, repairing fortresses, and replenishing the Tower arsenal,
as if conscious that he might have serious work before him. The Emperor
still clung to the belief that he would be afraid to persevere, and
Chapuys himself began to think that the Emperor might be more right than
himself, and that the storm might pass off. No sign, however, appeared of
yielding. The new brief was known to have been issued, and to have been
forwarded to the Nuncio. Not contented with the warning already given by
proclamation, Norfolk on the 13th of January sent for Chapuys to draw his
attention once more to the law. The introduction of briefs from Rome
touching the honour and authority of the Crown was forbidden by Act of
Parliament. It was understood that "certain decretals" had been procured
by the Queen's friends, and were about to be published. The Duke desired
the Ambassador to know that if the Pope came in person to present such
briefs he would be torn in pieces by the people. It was not a new
question. Popes had tried in past times to usurp authority in England. The
King's predecessors had always resisted, and the present King would resist
also. Kings were before Popes. The King was master in his own dominions.
If any such decretal came into the Ambassador's hands, the Duke warned him
not to issue it.[138]

Imperialist officials were more accustomed to dictate to others than to
submit to commands. Chapuys was brave, and, when occasion required, could
be haughty to insolence. He thanked the Duke for giving him the notice.
"He would not argue," he said, "on the authority possessed by Popes over
disobedient kings and kingdoms. It was a notorious fact in full practice
at that very time. His curiosity had not extended so far as the study of
the English statute book, and on such points he must refer the Council to
the Nuncio. For himself he could only say he thought they would have done
better if they had not given occasion for such 'briefs' from the Pope. The
Emperor would not consent to an unreasonable sentence against the King,
for he regarded him as his ally and friend, but he could assure the Duke
that if his master was to direct him to assist the publication of any
Papal brief in England he would unquestionably execute his Majesty's
commands. As to the nation at large, he did not think they would resist
the Pope's decretals. He thought, on the contrary, they would help their
execution with all their power. Truth and justice must reign everywhere,
even among thieves and in hell. The Church of Christ was never so
unprovided with defenders as to be unable to carry the world with her, and
the English would have no right to complain if the Emperor, having
exhausted all means of conciliation, caused justice to take her
course."[139]

Such language could bear but one meaning. Chapuys perhaps intended to
frighten Norfolk. The Duke was suspected to be less staunch in support of
the King than he professed to be in Council. The Duchess was a fiery
partisan of Catherine, and a close intimate of the Ambassador himself. He
thought that he had produced an impression; but Norfolk answered at last
that, "if the King could take another wife he certainly would;" the Pope
had no business to interfere, except in cases of heresy.[140] To the
Nuncio the Duke gave the same warning which he had given to the
Ambassador, drawing special attention to the pains and penalties to which
disobedience would make him liable. The Nuncio answered, like Chapuys,
that at whatever cost he would obey the Pope's orders, and "would die if
necessary for his lord and master."




CHAPTER X.

State of feeling in England--Clergy and laity--The Clergy in a Præmunire--
The Royal Supremacy--Hesitation at Rome--Submission of the Clergy--The
meaning of the new title--More and Fisher--Alarm of the Emperor--Appeal of
Catherine to him--Unpopularity of Anne Boleyn--Threats of
excommunication--Determination of Henry--Deputation of Peers to
Catherine--Catherine's reply--Intolerable pretensions of the Emperor--
Removal of Catherine from the Court.


A struggle was now inevitable between the King and the Pope, and the
result of it would depend on the sentiments of the English nation. Chapuys
and the Nuncio believed the majority of the people to be loyally attached
to the see of Rome. To the Pope as pope the King and Council were willing
to submit; but a pope who was the vassal and mouthpiece of another secular
sovereign, they believed the country would support them in refusing to
acknowledge. Was Chapuys right or was the King? The Parliament about to
open would decide. In the clergy of England the Pope had a ready-made army
completely at his devotion. In asserting their independence of civil
control the clerical order had been conscious that they could not stand
alone, and had attached themselves with special devotion to their
Spiritual Sovereign at Rome. They might complain of annates and
first-fruits and other tributes which they were made to pay; but the
Pope's support they knew to be essential to the maintenance of their
professional privileges; and in any contest which might arise they were
certain to be found on the side of the Holy See. The hero of the
imagination of every English priest was Becket of Canterbury. In theory he
regarded the secular prince as ruling only by delegation from the Supreme
Pontiff, and as liable in case of contumacy to be deposed. In case of
quarrel between the clergy and the State the enormous influence of the
Church was pledged to the order and to its chief at Rome.

The spiritualty were already exasperated by the clipping of their claws in
the last session. From the Bishop of Rochester, who represented clerical
opinion in its most accentuated form, from great ladies, and from a party
of the nobles with whom, as Catherine's friends, he mainly associated,
Chapuys had heard unanimous censures of the King's conduct. These persons
told him that the whole nation agreed with them, and certainly the
opposition of a body so powerful as the clergy was by itself formidable.
Before it came to war, therefore, with the Pontiff, the King had prepared
his measures to disarm the Pontiff's legionaries. To clip their claws was
not enough. Their mouths had to be held with bit and bridle. Parliament,
after repeated prorogations, was opened at last in January. Convocation,
which was called simultaneously, was put formally in possession of a fact
which had appeared on the first rumour of it incredible--that the whole
body of the clergy lay under Præmunire for having recognised Cardinal
Wolsey's legation and the Papal Bull by which it was instituted. It was an
intimation that the old English laws were awake again. The clergy were
subjects of the Crown, not of the Pope, and to impress the fact upon their
minds they learnt that legally their property was forfeited, that they
would obtain their pardon only on paying a fine of a hundred thousand
pounds, and on distinctly acknowledging the King as the Supreme Head of
the Church of England. Chapuys's correspondence explained the motives of
the Government in extorting the confession; and justified the arbitrary
use which was made of the Præmunire. The Pope was being urged to
excommunicate the King and declare him deposed. The clergy, through whom
the Pope would act, were to be forced to admit that they were subjects of
the Crown and were bound to obey the laws of their country. It was in no
idle vanity, no ambitious caprice that Henry VIII. demanded the title
which has been so much debated. It was as a practical assertion of the
unity and independence of the realm. England was to have but one sovereign
supreme within her own limits, with whom no foreign prince, secular or
spiritual, had a right to interfere; and an acknowledgement of their
obligation was demanded in ample form from the order which looked
elsewhere for its superior. The black regiments were to be compelled to
swear allegiance to the proper sovereign.

Clement's mind had always misgiven him that, if he pushed Henry too far,
mischief would befall him. He had refused the last brief till it was
extorted from him.[141] As if Mai had not been pressing and vehement
enough, Catherine had now at Rome a special representative of her own, Dr.
Ortiz, a bitter Catholic theologian with the qualities which belong to
that profession. Mai and Ortiz together, listening to no excuse, drove the
Pope on from day to day, demanding sentence with its inevitable
consequence. The Cardinals were alarmed. One of them told Mai that, in
his opinion, the original dispensation really was void, that Julius had
no faculty to dispense in such a case. The Pope suggested that the affair
might be suspended for two years. It might then, perhaps, drop and be
forgotten. He enquired whether, if the King consented to plead by proxy
before him, the Emperor would agree to _any accommodation_. Should the
case go on, it might last fifteen or twenty years. All the Cardinals, said
Mai, nay, the Pope himself, would like to put off the affair entirely, to
avoid trouble.[142] The Court of Rome had, in fact, discovered at last
that matters were really serious, that Henry would not be played with, and
that the quarrel must be peaceably settled. Mai and Ortiz were furious.
They insisted on immediate action. Delay, they said, would be injurious to
the Queen. Their orders were to urge the Pope to proceed and pass
sentence, whether the parties appeared or not. They hinted that very soon
there would be no more trouble from England; they had been told, and they
believed, that, with the clergy on Catherine's side, a Papal decree would
end the whole business.

Their confidence was shaken and their activity rudely arrested by the news
of the Præmunire and the demand for the submission of the English clergy.
Too well the meaning of it was understood. On Chapuys and the Nuncio it
fell like a thunderbolt. They held an anxious consultation, and they
agreed on the least wise measure which they could possibly have adopted.
The Nuncio, as representing the majesty of the Holy See, determined to go
himself to Convocation, and exhort the Bishops to uphold the Church and
resist the King and the House of Commons. He actually went, and was much
astonished at the reception which he met with. The right reverend body was
so "scandalised" at his intrusion that they entreated him to withdraw,
without giving him time to declare his errand. They told him that, if he
had anything to say, "he must address himself to the Archbishop of
Canterbury, who was not then present." The Nuncio had to withdraw
precipitately. In his vexation he had not even the prudence to depart
quietly, but insisted on thrusting on the Bishop of London the words which
he had meant to speak.[143]

The Bishops and clergy themselves were compelled to submit to the
inevitable. The law under which they suffered had marked an epoch of
successful resistance to Papal usurpation. The revival of it was to mark
another and a greater. They struggled long enough and violently enough to
deprive their resistance of dignity, and then, "swearing they would never
consent," consented. They agreed to pay the hundred thousand pounds as the
price of their pardon. They agreed, in accepting it, to acknowledge the
King as Supreme Head of the English Church, and, to ease their conscience,
they were allowed to introduce as a qualifying phrase, _quantum per legem
Christi licet_. But the law of Christ would avail them little for their
special privileges. It would have to be interpreted by the rejection of
another form which they had desired to substitute and were not allowed.
For "_legem Christi_" they had desired to read "_legem Ecclesiæ_." The
supposed claims of the Church were precisely what they were to be
compelled to disavow.

It was done. The enchantment was gone from them. They had become as other
men, shorn Samsons and no longer dangerous. The Pope might say what he
pleased. The clergy were now the King's servants, and not the Pope's, and
must either support the Crown or become confessed traitors. Thus when the
Brief arrived, the Nuncio was allowed to present it. The King took it with
a smile and passed it on to the Privy Council, talked to him
good-humouredly of indifferent matters, and had never been more polite. In
a light way he told the Nuncio that he knew of his attempt to persuade the
Bishops to agree to nothing to the Pope's prejudice; but his anxiety was
unnecessary; no injury would be done to the Pope, unless the Pope brought
it upon himself. The King's graciousness was but too intelligible. To
Catherine and Chapuys and all their friends the meaning of it was that
Henry had made himself "Pope" in England. The Queen foresaw her own fate
as too sure to follow. She feared "that, since the King was not ashamed of
doing such monstrous things, and there being no one who could or dared
contradict him, he might, one of these days, undertake some further
outrage against her own person."[144]

The blame of the defeat was thrown on the unfortunate Clement. The Pope's
timidity and dissimulation, wrote Chapuys, had produced the effect which
he had all along foretold. It had prejudiced the Queen's interests and his
own authority. Her cause was making no progress. The Pope had promised Mai
that if the King disobeyed his first brief and allowed Anne Boleyn to
remain at court he would excommunicate him, and now all that he had done
had been to issue another conditional brief less strong than the first,
and the Lady was left defiant and with as much authority as ever. The
Queen had begun to think that the Pope had no desire to settle the matter,
and, as Norfolk observed to Chapuys, was glad that the Princes should be
at discord, for fear they might combine to reform the clergy. If the Pope
had directly ordered the King to separate from the Lady Anne, the King
would never have claimed the supremacy[145] which had caused such
universal consternation. The Chancellor [Sir Thomas More] was so horrified
at it, Chapuys said, that he would quit office as soon as possible. The
Bishop of Rochester was sick with grief. He opposed as much as he could;
but they threatened to fling him and his friends into the river, so he had
to yield at last, and had taken to his bed in despair. The Bishops, it was
thought, would now do anything against the Queen which they were ordered,
especially seeing how cold and indifferent the Pope seemed about her fate.
The Nuncio had questioned the King about the nature of his new Papacy. The
King told him that if the Pope showed him proper respect he might retain
his lawful authority, "otherwise he knew what he would himself do."[146]

The last words were explained in another letter in which Chapuys said that
the Lady Anne was supporting the Lutherans. They had been treated to
prison and stake while More had held the seals. On More's retirement they
were now to have an easier time of it. Between them and the King there was
the link of a common enemy in the Pope, and the King was showing a
disposition to protect them. The revival of the Præmunire created
embarrassments of many kinds. The Pope had officials of his own in
England and Ireland, whom he appointed himself, and could not realise the
extent of the change which he had brought on. It is amusing to find him in
the midst of the storm peacefully soliciting Henry for help against the
Turks, and the Nuncio paying friendly visits to the palace. Henry told him
that he had made a final appeal to Rome and was waiting to see the result.
The Pope might excommunicate him if he pleased; he cared nothing for his
excommunication; the Emperor might, no doubt, hurt him; but he was not
sure that the Emperor desired to hurt him, or, if it came to that, he
could defend himself and the realm. Norfolk was equally decided. They
knew, he said, that the Queen and the Emperor were pressing the Pope for
sentence, but it was time lost. If the Pope issued ten thousand
excommunications, no notice would be taken of them. The Archbishop and not
the Pope was the lawful judge in English causes. Chapuys expressed a hope
that a day would come when the King would listen to his true friends
again, etc. "You will see before long," replied the Duke, "that the
Emperor will repent of not having consented to the divorce."[147]

In fact, the Emperor had begun to repent already, or, if not to repent,
yet to be perplexed with the addition which his action had brought upon
him to his many burdens. The Præmunire and the successful establishment of
the authority of the Crown over the clergy had startled all Europe. The
King and Parliament, it had been universally supposed, would yield before
a threat of excommunication. When it appeared that they were as careless
of the Pope's curses as Luther and the Elector of Saxony, the affair wore
another aspect. Even the Imperialist Cardinals in the Consistory came
round to the Pope's own view and wished to let the cause rest for two or
three years. Mai feared that such a course might lead to _Novedades_ or
revolution, but admitted that much might be said for it, especially
considering the difficulties in Germany. He ceased to press the Pope for
immediate sentence, and Dr. Ortiz, Catherine's passionate agent,
complained that he found the Emperor's Ambassador growing cold and less
eager to support his own arguments.[148] Catherine, seeing her clerical
friends prostrated, could but renew her entreaties to her own relations.
Her position was growing daily weaker. The nation, seeing the Pope
confining himself to weak threats and unable or unwilling to declare her
marriage valid, was rapidly concluding that on the main question the King
was right, and that to throw the realm into a convulsion for an
uncertainty was not tolerable. No appeal had as yet been made to
Parliament, but "the King of France," Catherine wrote to Charles, "has
asked the Pope to delay sentence. If this be allowed, the means now
employed by these people to gain the consent of the nation to his second
marriage are such that they will obtain what they desire and accomplish my
ruin at the next session. If the delay be not already granted, I entreat
your Highness not to consent to it. Insist that the Pope shall give
judgment before next October, when Parliament will meet again. Forgive my
importunity. I cannot rest till justice is done to me. For the love of
Heaven let it be done before the time I name. I myself, if it must be so,
shall go to Parliament and declare before its members the justice of my
case."[149]

The harassed Pope was obstinately cautious, and occasionally even turned
upon his persecutors. Mai now urged him to call a General Council and
settle all questions. The word "council" rang painfully in Papal ears. Why
did not the Emperor make war upon the Lutherans? he pettishly asked. Mai
told him the Lutherans were rich and stubborn and strong, and it would be
an endless work. Why not then, said Clement, begin with the Swiss, who
were not so strong? Mai answered that it could not be. The heretics
everywhere made common cause, and the Emperor could not fight them all
single-handed. The Pope sighed, and said he feared there would be little
help from France and England.[150]

In England events moved steadily on, without hesitation, yet without
precipitation. The Bishops were not yet agreed on the divorce. At the
close of the session (March, 1531) Sir Thomas More read in the Upper House
the opinions which had been collected from the Universities at home and
abroad, and a debate ensued upon them.... London and Lincoln were on the
King's side. St. Asaph and Bath were of opinion that Parliament had no
right to interfere. Norfolk cut the argument short by saying that the
documents had been introduced merely to be read. There was no proposal
before the House. More said briefly that the King knew what his opinion
was, and that he need not repeat it. The judgments were sent down to the
House of Commons, where Chapuys persuaded himself that they were heard
with more displeasure than approval. The session ended, and Parliament
was prorogued till the following autumn. The Emperor himself wrote to
More. The letter was forwarded through Chapuys, who wished to deliver it
in person. More declined his visit and declined the letter. If it was
placed in his hand, he said, he must communicate it to the King.
Parliament having risen, there was again a breathing time.[151]

So far as the persons of the two ladies were concerned who were the
central figures in the quarrel, there was little difference of opinion in
England. The Duke of Norfolk, who represented the feelings of the great
body of the nation, thought that the interests of the succession made the
divorce a necessity. The realm could not be left exposed to the risk of
another civil war. He was jealous of the honour and liberties of the
country, and ill liked to see a question which touched them so nearly left
to the pleasure of the Emperor. But Norfolk as much admired Catherine as
he disliked his niece, and there were probably few English statesmen who
did not regret that a public cause should have been tainted by a
love-affair. All the leading men regretted that the King had fastened his
choice upon a person neither liked nor respected. Anne's antecedents were
unfavourable. Her elevation had turned her brain; she had made herself
detested for her insolence and dreaded for her intrigues. Catherine, on
the other hand, was a princess of royal birth and stainless honour. The
Duke observed to the Marquis of Exeter that it was a wonder to see her
courage--nothing seemed to frighten her; "the Devil and no other," he
said, "must have originated so wretched a business." The same view of the
matter was growing at Rome in the Pope and among the Cardinals. The Bishop
of Tarbes, who represented Francis at the Papal Court, warned Clement that
the loss of England might be the loss of France also. If the King of
England, he said, was driven to desperation, the miserable divorce suit
would be the ruin of the world; Francis would and must stand by him if the
Pope proceeded to excommunication. His impatience with his marriage might
be unreasonable, but was no adequate ground for the convulsion of Catholic
Christendom. Clement was at heart of the same opinion. The course which he
wished to follow was to delay indefinitely. A formal suspension would not
be needed. They had only to go on slowly. The King would then most likely
marry, and the cause would drop. Andrea de Burgo, Ferdinand's ambassador,
said that the Emperor was strong enough to settle the matter by himself.
"Not so strong as you think," Clement observed. "Between the Turks and the
Lutherans the Emperor may have trouble enough of his own."[152]

The Pope's unwillingness was well understood in England. He made another
faint effort to save Catherine; he ordered the Nuncio to announce to Henry
that the brief must be obeyed, or "justice would have its course."
Believing that the message would be resented, the Nuncio hesitated to
deliver it, but, encouraged by Chapuys, at last demanded audience and
informed Henry in the Pope's name what he was to expect if he persisted.
Henry shortly answered that the Pope was losing his time. He already knew
what the Nuncio had come to tell him, but, once for all, he would never
accept the Pope as his judge in an affair concerning himself and the
English nation. "The Pope may excommunicate me," he said. "I care not a
fig for his excommunication. Let him do as he wills at Rome. I will do
here as I will.... I take the Pope to be a worthy man on the whole, but
ever since the last war he has been so afraid of the Emperor that he dares
not act against his wishes."[153]

The most obvious resource was to adopt the suggestion already made that
the case should be transferred to Cambray, or to some other spot not open
to objection, where it could be heard with impartiality. Clement himself
was weary of the struggle, and eager to escape from it by any reasonable
means. If Catherine would agree, Charles was unlikely to hesitate; but,
though weary and worn out with disappointments, she was a resolute woman,
and as long as she persisted the Emperor was determined not to desert her.
With small hope of success, but as an experiment which it was thought
desirable to try, a deputation of Peers and Bishops were commissioned to
see Catherine, to ask her to withdraw her demand for an immediate
sentence, and consent that the cause should be tried in a neutral place;
while the Pope, through his Legate in Spain, made a similar proposition to
Charles. The Queen heard that they were coming, and prepared for them by
causing several "masses of the Holy Ghost" to be said, that she might be
enlightened how to answer. The delegates arrived shortly after the masses
were completed, the two Dukes, Lord Exeter, Earls, Barons, Bishops, and
canon lawyers, thirty of them in all. Norfolk spoke for the rest. He said
that the King had been treated with contempt and vituperation by the Pope
on her account; he had been cited to appear personally at Rome--a measure
never before enforced by any pope against an English king. He could not
go; he could not leave his kingdom--nor could the dispute be settled by
the Pope's insistence on it. A fitter place and fitter judges must be
chosen by the mutual consent of the parties, or she would be the cause of
trouble and scandal to them and their posterity. The Duke entreated her to
consider the consequences of refusal--to remember the many good services
which the King had rendered to her father and to the Emperor, and to allow
the constitution of some other court before which the King could plead.

In itself the demand was reasonable. It was impossible for a king of
England to plead before the Pope, in the power, as he was, of the Emperor,
who was himself a party interested in the dispute. A neutral place might
have been easily found. Neutral judges might be less easily procurable;
but none could be less fit than his Holiness. The Queen, however, replied
stoutly as ever that her cause should be judged by the Pope and by no one
else; not that she expected any favour at his hands; so far the Pope had
shown himself so partial to the King that more could not be asked of him;
she, and not the King, had cause to complain of his Holiness; but the Pope
held the place and had the power of God upon earth, and was the image of
eternal truth. To him, and only to him, she remitted her case. If trouble
came, it would be the work of others, not of her. She allowed that in past
times the King had assisted her relations. The Emperor had not denied it,
and was the King's true friend. With a scornful allusion to the Supremum
Caput, she said, the King might be Lord and Master in temporal matters,
but the Pope was the true Sovereign and Vicar of God in matters
spiritual, of which matrimony was one.[154]

The Spanish Legate had succeeded no better with Charles, who returned a
peremptory refusal; but so little confidence had the Emperor in the true
Sovereign and Vicar of God that he insisted not merely that the Pope
_should try the case but should try it in his own presence, lest the
Queen's interests should suffer injury_. The request itself indicated a
disposition on the Pope's part to evade his duty. Charles gave him to
understand, in language sufficiently peremptory, that he intended that
duty to be done.[155]

In this direction there was no hope. Catherine had been even more emphatic
with the deputation. After her reply to Norfolk, the bishops and lawyers
took up the word. She always denied that she had been Prince Arthur's
actual wife. She herself on all occasions courted the subject, and was not
afraid of indelicacy. The Church doctors responded. They said she had
slept with Prince Arthur, and the presumptions were against her. She bade
them go plead their presumptions at Rome, where they would have others
than a woman to answer them. She was astonished, she said, to see so many
great people gathered against a lone lady without friends or counsel.

Among the great persons before her she had still some staunch friends.
Anne Boleyn was detested by them all; and those who, like Norfolk, wished
her, for her own sake, to be less uncompromising could not refuse to
admire the gallant spirit of Isabella's daughter. But, alas! the refusal
to allow the cause to be heard in a free city, before an impartial
tribunal, was equivalent to a consciousness that, unless by a court under
the Emperor's control, an unfavourable judgment was to be looked for. They
could not, any one of them, allow their Sovereign to plead where an
Imperial Minister could threaten the lives of uncompliant Cardinals. But,
unless every knightly feeling had been dead in them, they could not have
refused their sympathy. Had the Pope spoken plainly from the first, most
of the Peers would perhaps have stood by the lady before them with voice
and sword. But the Pope had allowed that the King was in the right. He had
drawn back only under compulsion, and even at that moment was only
prevented by fear from deciding on the King's side. Glad as they might
have been had the question never been raised, they could not submit their
Prince to the indignity of a condemnation by a coerced tribunal--a
tribunal which was to be trusted to proceed only, as it now appeared, in
the Emperor's own presence.

They carried the answer back to their master. "I feared it would be so,"
he said, "knowing as I do the heart and temper of the Queen. We must now
provide in some other way."

Norfolk, who wished well to the Queen, regretted that she had taken a
course so little likely to profit her. "The Emperor's action," he said,
"in causing the King to be cited to Rome was outrageous and unprecedented.
The cause ought to be tried in England, and the Queen had been unwise in
rejecting the advice of the Peers."[156]

The Emperor on reflection reconsidered his own first refusal to allow the
cause to be transferred; to insist on the trial being conducted before
himself was really intolerable, and he drew a more moderate reply; but he
still persisted that the Pope alone should hear the case, and decide it in
the Queen's favour. "The affair," he said, "was of such a nature as to
admit of no solution save the declaring that a marriage contracted with
the authority and license of the Holy See was valid and indissoluble. As
the patron and defender of the Apostolic See he was more in duty bound
than any other Prince to remove and defend all small offences and
disputes." In fact he still advanced a claim of sovereign jurisdiction
which it was impossible for England to allow.[157]

Catherine was well aware that the Pope had been a party to the request for
the removal of her cause, and bitterly she railed at him. Charles sent her
a copy of his own answer. It reassured her, if she had doubted; she saw
that, let Clement struggle how he would, she could be confident that her
nephew would compel him to decide for her. The Pope, she announced, was
responsible for all that had happened by refusing to do her justice. This
last move showed that he was as little disposed to apply the remedy[158]
as he had been. If the cause was removed from Rome, the judges, whoever
they might be, would declare that black was white.[159]

Up to this time Catherine had continued at the Court with her own
apartments, and with the Princess Mary as her companion. She had refused
the only available means of a peaceful arrangement, and was standing out,
avowedly resting on the Emperor's protection. She was not reticent. She
spoke out freely of her wrongs and her expectations. To separate mother
and daughter would have been a needless aggravation had the suit been
between private individuals. But Mary was a public person with her own
rights on the succession. It was found necessary to remove Catherine from
London and to place the Princess out of reach of her influence. Moor Park,
which had been a country-house of Wolsey's, was assigned for the Queen's
residence, while Mary was sent to the palace at Richmond. Catherine was
too proud to resist when resistance would be useless, but she said she
would prefer the Tower.[160] The Nuncio remonstrated. He advised the King
"to recall her to the Court and shut a hundred thousand tongues." The King
replied, "nearly in tears," that he had sent her away because she used
such high words and was always threatening him with the Emperor.[161] Of
Mary, Henry was personally fond. He met her one day in Richmond Park,
spoke affectionately to her, and regretted that he saw her so seldom. She
cannot be where the Lady is, said Chapuys, "because the Lady has declared
that she will not have it, nor hear of her." She would not even allow the
King to speak to Mary without being watched on the occasion just
mentioned. She sent two of her people to report what passed between
them.[162]




CHAPTER XI.

Proposals for the reunion of Christendom--Warning addressed to the Pope--
Address of the English nobles to Queen Catherine--Advances of Clement to
Henry--Embarrassments of the Pope and the Emperor--Unwillingness of the
Pope to decide against the King--Business in Parliament--Reform of the
English Church--Death of Archbishop Warham--Bishop Fisher and Chapuys--
Question of annates--Papal Briefs--The Pope urged to excommunicate Henry--
The Pope refuses--Anger of Queen Catherine's Agent.


The unity of Christendom was not to be broken in pieces without an effort
to preserve it. Charles V. was attempting impossibilities in his own
dominions, labouring for terms on which the Lutheran States might return
to the Church. He had brought the Pope to consent to the "communion in
both kinds," and to the "marriage of priests"--a vast concession, which
had been extorted by Micer Mai in the intervals of the discussions on the
divorce. Efforts which fail are forgotten, but they represent endeavours
at least honourable. Catherine was absorbed in her own grievances. Charles
gave them as much attention as he could spare, but had other things to
think of. As long as he could prevent Clement from taking any fatal step,
he supposed that he had done enough. He had at least done all that he
could, and he had evidently allowed Chapuys to persuade him that Henry's
course would be arrested at the last extremity by his own subjects. He
left Mai to watch the Pope, and Ortiz to urge for sentence; but when the
pressure of his own hand relaxed his agents could effect but little. The
English Parliament was to open again in January. The King's Commissioners
at Rome informed the Consistory that if it was decided finally to try the
cause at Rome they were to take their leave, and the King would
thenceforward regard the Pope as his public enemy.[163] The threat
"produced a great impression." The Pope had no wish to be Henry's enemy in
order to please the Emperor. Mai and Ortiz told him that the English
menaces were but words; he had but to speak and England would submit. The
Pope did not believe it, and became again "lax and procrastinating."[164]

The English nobles made a last effort to move Catherine. Lord Sussex, Sir
William Fitzwilliam, and Lee, Archbishop of York, who had been her warm
supporter, waited on her at Moor Park to urge her, if she would not allow
the case to be tried at Cambray, to permit it to be settled by a
commission of bishops and lawyers. The Pope confessedly was not free to
give his own opinion, and English causes could not be ruled by the
Emperor. If Catherine had consented, it is by no means certain that Anne
Boleyn would have been any more heard of. A love which had waited for five
years could not have been unconquerable; and it was possible and even
probable in the existing state of opinion that some other arrangement
might have been made for the succession. The difficulty rose from
Catherine's determination to force the King before a tribunal where the
national pride would not permit him to plead. The independence of England
was threatened, and those who might have been her friends were disarmed
of their power to help her. Unfortunately for herself, perhaps fortunately
for the English race which was yet to be born, she remained still
inflexible. "The King's plea of conscience," she said, "was not honest. He
was acting on passion, pure and simple; and English judges would say black
was white." Sussex and Fitzwilliam knelt to entreat her to reconsider her
answer. She too knelt and prayed them for God's honour and glory to
persuade the King to return to her, as she was his lawful wife. All
present were in tears, but there was no remedy. Chapuys said that the
coldness and indifference with which the affair was treated at Rome was
paralysing her defenders. The question could not stand in debate for ever,
and, unless the Pope acted promptly and resolutely, he feared that some
strong act was not far distant.[165]

She was destroying her own chance. She persisted in relying on a defence
which was itself fatal to her.

"God knows what I suffer from these people," she wrote to the Emperor,
"enough to kill ten men, much more a shattered woman who has done no harm.
I can do nothing but appeal to God and your Majesty, on whom alone my
remedy depends. For the love of God procure a final sentence from his
Holiness as soon as possible. The utmost diligence is required. May God
forgive him for the many delays which he has granted and which alone are
the cause of my extremity. I am the King's lawful wife, and while I live I
will say no other. The Pope's tardiness makes many on my side waver, and
those who would say the truth dare not. Speak out yourself, that my
friends may not think I am abandoned by all the world."[166]

Well might Catherine despair of Clement. While she was expecting him to
excommunicate her husband, he was instructing his Nuncio to treat that
husband as his most trusted friend. He invited Henry to assist in the
Turkish war; he consulted him about the protection of Savoy from the Swiss
Protestants; he apologised to him for the language which he was obliged to
use on the great matter. Henry, contemptuous and cool, "not showing the
passion which he had shown at other times," replied that the Pope must be
jesting in inviting him, far off as he was, to go to war with the Turk. If
Christendom was in danger he would bear his part with the other Princes.
As to Savoy, the Duke had disregarded the wishes of France and must take
the consequences. For the rest, the message which he had sent through his
Ambassador at Rome was no more than the truth. "If," said he to the
Nuncio, "I ask a thing which I think right, the answer is 'The law
forbids.' If the Emperor ask a thing, law and rules are changed to please
him. The Pope has greatly wronged me. I have no particular animosity
against him. After all, he does not bear me much ill will. The fear of the
Emperor makes him do things which he would not otherwise do. Proceedings
may be taken against me at Rome. I care not. If sentence is given against
me, I know what to do."[167]

The Pope never meant to give sentence if he could help it. Every day
brought Parliament nearer and he drove Mai distracted with his evasions.
"I have said all that I could to his Holiness and the Cardinals without
offending them," he reported to Charles. "Your Majesty may believe me when
I say that these devils are to a man against us. Some take side openly,
being of the French or English faction; others will be easily corrupted,
for every day I hear the English Ambassador receives bills for thousands
of ducats, which are said to go in bribery."[168]

Promises were given in plenty, but no action followed, and Ortiz had the
same story to tell Catherine. "Your Ambassador at Rome," she wrote to her
nephew, "thinks the Pope as cold and indifferent as when the suit began. I
am amazed at his Holiness. How can he allow a suit so scandalous to remain
so long undecided? His conduct cuts me to the soul. You know who has
caused all this mischief. Were the King once free from the snare in which
he has been caught he would confess that God had restored his reason. His
misleaders goad him on like a bull in the arena. Pity that a man so good
and virtuous should be thus deceived. God enlighten his mind!"[169]

To the Emperor himself, perhaps, the problem was growing more difficult
than he expected. He himself at last pressed for sentence, but sentence
was nothing unless followed by excommunication if it was disobeyed, and
the Pope did not choose to use his thunder if there was to be no
thunderbolt to accompany it. The Cardinal Legate in Spain assured him that
the Emperor would employ all his force in the execution of the censures.
The Pope said that he prized that promise as "a word from Heaven." But
though Charles might think the English King was doing what was wrong and
unjust, was it so wrong and so unjust that fire and sword were to be let
loose through Christendom? Chapuys and Catherine were convinced that there
would be no need of such fierce remedies. They might be right, but how if
they were not right? How if England supported the King? The Emperor could
not be certain that even his own subjects would approve of a war for such
an object. Three years later, when the moment for action had arrived, if
action was to be taken at all, it will be seen that the Spanish Council of
State took precisely this view of the matter, and saw no reason for
breaking the peace of Europe for what, after all, was but "a family
quarrel." The Pope was cautious. He knew better than his passionate
advisers how matters really stood. "The Pope may promise," Mai said, "but
as long as the world remains in its troubled state, these people will be
glad of any excuse to prolong the settlement." January came, when the
English Parliament was to meet, and the note was still the same. "The Pope
says," wrote Mai, "that we must not press the English too hard. I have
exhausted all that I could say without a rupture. I told him he was
discrediting the Queen's case and your Majesty's authority. I made him
understand that I should be obliged to apply elsewhere for the justice
that was denied me at Rome. He owns that I am right, but Consistory
follows Consistory and more delays are allowed. We can but press on as we
have always done, and urge your Majesty's displeasure."[170]

If a sentence could not be had, Ortiz insisted on the issue of another
minatory brief. Anne Boleyn must be sent from the court. The King must be
made to confess his errors. The Pope assented; said loudly that he would
do justice; though England and France should revolt from the Holy See in
consequence, a brief should go, and, if it was disobeyed, he would proceed
to excommunicate: "the Kings of England and France were so bound together
that if he lost one he lost both, but he would venture notwithstanding."
But like the Cardinals who condemned Giordano Bruno, Clement was more
afraid of passing judgment than Henry of hearing it passed. The brief was
written and was sent, but it contained nothing but mild
expostulation.[171] All the distractions of the world were laid at the
door of the well-meaning, uncertain, wavering Clement. La Pommeraye, the
French Ambassador in London, said (Chapuys vouches for the words) that
"nothing could have been so easy as to bring all Christian Princes to
agree had not that devil of a Pope embroiled and sown dissension through
Christendom."[172]

In England alone was to be found clear purpose and steadiness of action.
The divorce in England was an important feature in the quarrel with the
Papacy, but it was but a single element in the great stream of
Reformation, and the main anxiety of King and people was not fixed on
Catherine, but on the mighty changes which were rushing forward. When a
Parliament was first summoned, on the fall of Wolsey, the Queen had
assumed that it was called for nothing else but to empower the King to
separate from her. So she thought at the beginning, so she continued to
think. Yet session had followed session, and the Legislature had found
other work to deal with. They had manacled the wrists of her friends, the
clergy; but that was all, and she was to have yet another year of respite.
The "blind passion" which is supposed to have governed Henry's conduct was
singularly deliberate. Seven years had passed since he had ceased
cohabitation with Catherine, and five since he had fallen under the
fascination of the impatient Anne; yet he went on as composedly with
public business as if Anne had never smiled on him, and he was still
content to wait for this particular satisfaction. As long as hope remained
of saving the unity of Christendom without degrading England into a vassal
State of the Empire, Henry did not mean to break it. He had occupied
himself, in concert with the Parliament, with reforming the internal
disorders and checking the audacious usurpations of the National Church.
He had, so far, been enthusiastically supported by the immense majority of
the laity, and was about to make a further advance in the same direction.

The third Session opened on 13th of January, Peers, Prelates, and Commons
being present in full number. By this time a small but active opposition
had been formed in the Lower House to resist measures too violently
anti-clerical. They met occasionally to concert operations at the Queen's
Head by Temple Bar. The Bishops, who had been stunned by the Præmunire,
were recovering heart and intending to show fight. Tunstal of Durham, who
had been reflecting on the Royal Supremacy during the recess, repented of
his consent, and had written his misgivings to the King. The King used the
opportunity to make a remarkable reply.

"People conceive," he said, "that we are minded to separate our Church of
England from the Church of Rome, and you think the consequences ought to
be considered. My Lord, as touching schism, we are informed by virtuous
and learned men that, considering what the Church of Rome is, it is no
schism to separate from her, and adhere to the Word of God. The lives of
Christ and the Pope are very opposite, and therefore to follow the Pope is
to forsake Christ. It is to be trusted the Papacy will shortly vanish
away, if it be not reformed; but, God willing, we shall never separate
from the Universal body of Christian men."[173]

Archbishop Warham also had failed to realise the meaning of his consent to
the Royal Supremacy. He had consecrated the Bishop of St. Asaph on the
receipt of a nomination from Rome before the Bulls had been presented to
the King. He learnt that he was again under a Præmunire. The aged Primate,
fallen on evil times, drew the heads of a defence which he intended to
make, but never did make, in the House of Lords. Archbishops, he said,
were not bound to enquire whether Bishops had exhibited their Bulls or
not. It had not been the custom. If the Archbishop could not give the
spiritualities to one who was pronounced a bishop at Rome till the King
had granted him his temporalities, the spiritual powers of the Archbishops
would depend on the temporal power of the Prince, and would be of little
or no effect, which was against God's law. In consecrating the Bishop of
St. Asaph he had acted as the Pope's Commissary. The act itself was the
Pope's act. The point for which the King contended was one of the Articles
which Henry II. sought to extort at Clarendon, and which he was afterwards
compelled to abandon. The liberties of the Church were guaranteed by
Magna Charta, and the Sovereigns who had violated them, Henry II., Edward
III., Richard II., had come to an ill end. The lay Peers had threatened
that they would defend the matter with their swords. The lay Peers should
remember what befell the knights who slew St. Thomas. The Archbishop said
he would rather be hewn in pieces than confess this Article, for which St.
Thomas died, to be a Præmunire.[174]

Warham was to learn that the spirit of Henry II. was alive again in the
present Henry, and that the Constitutions of Clarendon, then premature,
were to become the law of the land.

Fisher of Rochester had received no summons to attend the present
Parliament; but he sent word to the Imperial Ambassador that he would be
in his place, whether called up or not, that he might defend Catherine
should any measure be introduced which affected her. He begged Chapuys not
to mention his name in his despatches, except in cipher. If they met in
public Chapuys must not speak to him or appear to know him. He on his part
would pass Chapuys without notice till the present tyranny was overpast.
Bishop Fisher was entering upon dangerous courses, which were to lead him
into traitorous efforts to introduce an invading army into England and to
bring his own head to the block. History has only pity for these
unfortunate old men, and does not care to remember that, if they could
have had their way, a bloodier persecution than the Marian would have made
a swift end of the Reformation.

I need not repeat what I have written elsewhere on the acts of this
Session.[175] A few details only deserve further notice. The privilege of
the clergy to commit felony without punishment was at last abolished.
Felonious clerks were thenceforward to suffer like secular criminals. An
accident provided an illustrative example. A priest was executed in London
for chipping the coin, having been first drawn through the streets in the
usual way. Thirty women sued in vain for his pardon. He was hanged in his
habit, without being degraded, against the protest of the Bishop--"a thing
never done before since the Island was Christian."[176] The Constitutions
of Clarendon were to be enforced at last. The Arches court and the
Bishops' courts were reformed on similar lines, their methods and their
charges being brought within reasonable limits. Priests were no longer
allowed to evade the Mortmain Acts by working on death-bed terrors. The
exactions for mortuaries, legacy duties, and probate duties, long a
pleasant source of revenue, were abolished or cut down. The clergy in
their synods had passed what laws they pleased and enforced them with
spiritual terrors. The clergy were informed that they would no longer be
allowed to meet in synod without royal licence, and that their laws would
be revised by laymen. Chapuys wittily observed that the clergy were thus
being made of less account than cordwainers, who could at least enact
their own statutes.

A purpose of larger moment was announced by Henry for future execution.
More's chancellorship had been distinguished by heresy-prosecutions. The
stake in those three years had been more often lighted than under all the
administration of Wolsey. It was as if the Bishops had vented on those
poor victims their irritation at the rude treatment of their privileges.
The King said that the clergy's province was with souls, not with bodies.
They were not in future to arrest men on suspicion, imprison, examine, and
punish at their mere pleasure. There was an outcry, in which the
Chancellor joined. The King suspended his resolution for the moment, but
did not abandon it. He was specially displeased with More, from whom he
had expected better things. He intended to persist. "May God," exclaimed
the orthodox and shocked Chapuys, "send such a remedy as the intensity of
the evil requires."[177] None of Henry's misdeeds shocked Chapuys so
deeply as the tolerating heresy.

The Royal Supremacy had been accepted by Convocation. It was not yet
confirmed by Parliament. Norfolk felt the pulses of the Peers. He called a
meeting at Norfolk House. He described the Pope's conduct. He insisted on
the usual topics--that matrimonial causes were of temporal jurisdiction,
not spiritual; that the King was sovereign in his own dominions, etc.,
etc., and he invited the Peers' opinions. The Peers were cold. Lord Darcy
had spoken freely against the Pope in his indictment of Wolsey. It seemed
his ardour was abating. He said the King and Council must manage matters
without letting loose a cat among the legs of the rest of them.[178] The
meeting generally agreed with Darcy, and was not pressed further. Papal
privilege came before Parliament in a more welcome form when a bill was
introduced to withdraw annates or first fruits of benefices which had been
claimed and paid as a tribute to the Holy See. The imposition was a
grievance. There were no annates in Spain. The Papal collectors were
detested. The House of Commons made no difficulty. The Nuncio complained
to the King. The King told him that it was not he who brought forward
these measures. They were moved by the people, who hated the Pope
marvellously.[179] In the Upper House the Bishops stood by their spiritual
chief this time unanimously. Among the mitred Abbots there was division of
opinion. The abbeys had been the chief sufferers from annates, and had
complained of the exaction for centuries. All the lay Peers, except Lord
Arundel, supported the Government. The bill was passed, but passed
conditionally, leaving power to the Crown to arrange a compromise if the
Pope would agree to treat. For the next year the annates were paid in
full, as usual, to give time for his Holiness to consider himself.[180]

Thus steadily the Parliament moved on. Archbishop Warham, who was dying
broken-hearted, dictated a feeble protest from his bed against all which
had been done by it in derogation of the Pope or in limitation of the
privileges of the Church. More had fought through the session, but,
finding resistance useless, resigned the chancellorship. He saw what was
coming. He could not prevent it. If he retained his office he found that
he must either go against his conscience or increase the displeasure of
the King.[181] He preferred to retire.

In this way, at least in England, the situation was clearing, and parties
and individuals were drifting into definite positions. Montfalconet,[182]
writing to Charles in May, said that he had been in England and had seen
Queen Catherine, who was still clamouring for the Pope's sentence. "Every
one," he continued, speaking for the Catholic party, whom alone he had
seen, "was angry with the Pope, and angry with the Emperor for not
pressing him further. Peers, clergy, laity, all loved the Queen. She was
patient. She thought that if she could but see the King all might yet be
well. Were the sentence once delivered she was satisfied that he would
submit."[183] The French Ambassador in London, on the other hand,
recommended Francis to force the Pope to hold his hand. He told Chapuys
that "France must and would take Henry's part if a rupture came. The
Emperor had no right to throw Europe into confusion for the sake of a
woman. If the King of England wished to marry again, he should do as Louis
XII. had done under the same circumstances--take the woman that he liked
and waste no more time and money."[184]

At Rome the Pope had been fingering his briefs with hesitating heart. The
first, which he had issued under Charles's eye at Bologna, had been
comparatively firm. He had there ordered Henry to take Catherine back
under penalty of excommunication. The last, though so hardly extracted
from him, was meagre and insignificant. The King, when it was presented,
merely laughed at it. "The Pope," he said, "complains that I have sent the
Queen away. If his Holiness considers her as my wife, the right of
punishing her for the rudeness of her behaviour belongs to me and not to
him."[185]

Ortiz, finding it hopeless to expect a decision on the marriage itself
from the Pope, demanded excommunication on the plea of disobedience to the
Bologna brief. He had succeeded, or thought he had succeeded, in bringing
the Pope to the point. The excommunication was drawn up, "but when it was
to be engrossed and sealed the enemy of mankind prevented its completion
in a manner only known to God." Ortiz continued to urge. The document
could be sent secretly to the Emperor, to be used at his discretion. "If
the Emperor thought fit to issue it, bearing, as it did, God's authority,
God in such cases would infallibly send his terrors upon earth and provide
that no ill should come of it."[186] The Pope was less certain that God
would act as Ortiz undertook for him, and continued to offend the Lord by
delay. In vain Catherine's representative railed at him, in vain told him
that he would commit a great sin and offence against God if he did not
excommunicate a King who was, in mortal sin, keeping a mistress at his
Court. The Pope rationally answered that there was no evidence of mortal
sin. "It was the custom in England for Princes to converse intimately with
ladies. He could not prove that, in the present case, there was anything
worse, and the King might allege his conscience as a reason for not
treating the Queen as a husband."[187] Ortiz insisted that the devil had
got hold of the King in the shape of that woman, and unless the Pope
obliged him to put her away, the Pope would be damned. But it was an
absurdity to excommunicate the King and declare him to have forfeited his
crown when the original cause of the quarrel was still undecided. The King
might prove after all to be right, as modern law and custom has in fact
declared him to have been.

Charles himself felt that such a position could not be maintained. Henry
was evidently not frightened. There was no sign that the English people
were turning against him. If a bull of excommunication was issued, Charles
himself would be called on to execute it, and it was necessary to be sure
of his ground.

Ortiz raged on. "I told his Holiness," he wrote, "that if he did not
excommunicate the King I would stand up at the day of judgment and accuse
him before God."[188] Charles was obliged to tell Ortiz that he must be
more moderate. A further difficulty had risen in Rome itself. If the cause
was tried at Rome, was it to be tried before the Cardinals in consistory
or before the court of the Rota? The Cardinals were men of the world.
Micer Mai's opinion was that from the Rota only a judgment could be with
certainty expected in the Queen's favour.[189] "The winds are against us,"
he wrote to Secretary Covos; "what is done one day is undone the next. The
Cardinals will not stir, but quietly pocket the ducats which come from
the Emperor, and the larger sums which come from the English, who are
lavish in spending. The Pope will not break with France. He says he has so
many ties with the Kings of France and England that he must pretend
goodwill to the latter for fear they both break off from the Church, as
they have threatened to do."[190]




CHAPTER XII.

Henry advised to marry without waiting for sentence--Meeting of Henry and
Francis--Anne Boleyn present at the interview--Value of Anne to the French
Court--Pressure on the Pope by the Agents of the Emperor--Complaints of
Catherine--Engagements of Francis--Action of Clement--The King
conditionally excommunicated--Demand for final sentence--Cranmer appointed
Archbishop of Canterbury--Marriage of Henry and Anne Boleyn--Supposed
connivance of the Pope--The Nuncio attends Parliament--The Act of
Appeals--The Emperor entreated to intervene--Chapuys and the King.


The Pope had promised Ortiz that nothing should be said of the intended
excommunication till the brief was complete. He betrayed the secret to the
English Agents, by whom it was conveyed to Henry. The French Ambassador
had advised the King to hesitate no longer, but to marry and end the
controversy. The Pope himself had several times in private expressed the
same wish. But Henry, in love though he is supposed to have been,
determined to see Francis in person before he took a step which could not
be recalled. He desired to know distinctly how far France was prepared to
go along with him in defying the Papal censures. An interview between the
two Kings at such a crisis would also show the world that their alliance
was a practical fact, and that if the Emperor declared war in execution of
the censures he would have France for an enemy as well as England.

The intended meeting was announced at the end of August, and, strange to
say, there was still a belief prevailing that a marriage would come of it
between the King and a French princess, and that Anne would be
disappointed after all. "If it be so," wrote Chapuys, "the Lady Anne is
under a singular delusion, for she writes to her friends that at this
interview all that she has been so long wishing for will be accomplished."
One thing was clear, both to the Imperial Ambassador and the Nuncio, that
the Pope by his long trifling had brought himself into a situation where
he must either have to consent to a judgment against Catherine or
encounter as best he could the combination of two of the most powerful
Princes in Christendom. The least that he could do was to issue an
inhibition against the King's marriage either with Anne or with the
Frenchwoman.

The Pope's danger was real enough, but Anne Boleyn had nothing to fear for
herself. She was to form part of the cortége. She was to go, and to be
received at the French court as Henry's bride-elect, and she was created
Marchioness of Pembroke for the occasion. Queen Catherine believed that
the marriage would be completed at the interview with a publicity which
would make Francis an accomplice. The Emperor was incredulous. Reluctantly
he had been driven to the conclusion that Henry was really in earnest, and
he still thought it impossible that such an outrage as a marriage could be
seriously contemplated while the divorce was still undecided.[191] Yet
contemplated it evidently was. Politically the effect would have been
important, and it is not certain that Francis would not have encouraged a
step which would be taken as an open insult by Charles. The objection, so
Chapuys heard, came from the lady herself, who desired to be married in
state with the usual formalities in London.[192] Invited to the interview,
however, she certainly was by Francis. The French Queen sent her a present
of jewels. The Sieur de Langey came with special compliments from the King
to request her attendance. She had been a useful instrument in dividing
Henry from the Emperor, and his master, De Langey said, desired to thank
her for the inestimable services which she had rendered, and was daily
rendering him. He wished to keep her devoted to his interests. Wolsey
himself had not been more valuable to him. He had not to pay her a pension
of 25,000 crowns, as he had done to the Cardinal. Therefore he meant to
pay her in flattery and in forwarding the divorce at Rome.[193]

In vain Catherine poured out to Clement her wailing cries for
sentence--sentence without a moment's delay. Less than ever could the Pope
be brought to move. He must wait and see what came of the meeting of the
Kings; and whether the Emperor got the better of the Turks. It was the
harder to bear because she had persuaded herself, and had persuaded Ortiz,
that, if the King was once excommunicated, the whole of England would rise
against him for his contumacious disobedience.[194]

The interview which took place in October between the Kings of France and
England was a momentous incident in the struggle, for it did, in fact,
decide Henry to take the final step. The scene itself, the festivities,
the regal reception of Anne, the Nun of Kent and the discovery of the
singular influence which a hysterical impostor had been able to exercise
in the higher circles of English life, have already been described by me,
and I can add nothing to what I have already written. A more particular
account, however, must be given of a French Commission which was
immediately after despatched to Rome. Francis had not completely satisfied
Henry. He had repeated the advice of his Ambassadors. He had encouraged
the King to marry at once. He had reiterated his promises of support if
the Emperor declared war. Even an engagement which Henry had desired to
obtain from him, to unite France with England in a separate communion,
should the Pope proceed to violence, Francis had seemed to give, and had
wished his good brother to believe it. But his language had been less
explicit on this point than on the other.

The Bishop of Tarbes, now Cardinal Grammont, was sent to Rome, with
Cardinal Tournon, direct from the interview, with open instructions to
demand a General Council, to inform the Pope that if he refused the two
Kings would call a Council themselves and invite the Lutheran Princes to
join them, and that, if the Pope excommunicated Henry, he would go to Rome
for absolution so well accompanied that the Pope would be glad to grant
it.[195] If Catherine's friends in Rome were rightly informed, the
Cardinals had brought also a secret Commission, which went the full extent
of Henry's expectation. The Pope was to be required to fulfil at once the
promise which he had given at Orvieto, and to give judgment for the
divorce; "otherwise the Kings of France and England would abrogate the
Papal authority in their several realms." The Pope, confident that the
alternative before him was the loss of the two kingdoms, was preparing to
yield.[196] Henry certainly returned to England with an understanding that
Francis and himself were perfectly united, and would adopt the same
course, whatever that might be. A report went abroad that, relying on
these assurances, he had brought his hesitation to an end, and immediately
after landing made Anne secretly his wife. The rumour was premature, but
the resolution was taken. The Pope, the King said, was making himself the
tool of the Emperor. The Emperor was judge, and not the Pope; and neither
he nor his people would endure it. He would maintain the liberties of his
country, and the Pope, if he tried violence, would find his mistake.[197]

It is not easy to believe that on a point of such vast consequence Henry
could have misunderstood what Francis said, and he considered afterwards
that he had been deliberately deceived; but under any aspect the meeting
was a demonstration against the Papacy. Micer Mai, who watched the Pope
from day to day, declared that his behaviour was enough to drive him out
of his senses. Mai and Ortiz had at last forced another brief out of
him--not a direct excommunication, but an excommunication which was to
follow on further disobedience. They had compelled him to put it in
writing that he might have committed himself before the French Cardinals'
arrival. But when it was written he would not let it out of his hands. He
was to meet the Emperor again at Bologna, and till he had learnt from
Charles's own lips what he was prepared to do, it was unfair and
unreasonable, he said, to require an act which might fatally commit him.
He was not, however, to be allowed to escape. Catherine, when she heard of
the despatch of the Cardinals, again flung herself on her nephew's
protection. She insisted that the Pope should speak out. The French must
not be listened to. There was nothing to be afraid of. "The English
themselves carried no lightning except to strike her."[198] Letters from
Ortiz brought her news of the Pope's continued indecision--an indecision
fatal, as she considered it, to the Church and to herself. Rumours reached
her that the King had actually married, and she poured out her miseries to
Chapuys. "The letters from Rome," she said, "reopen all my wounds. They
show there is no justice for me or my daughter. It is withheld from us for
political considerations. I do not ask His Holiness to declare war--a war
I would rather die than provoke; but I have been appealing to the Vicar of
God for justice for six years, and I cannot have it. I refused the
proposals made to me two years ago by the King and Council. Must I accept
them now? Since then I have received fresh injuries. I am separated from
my lord, and he has married another woman without obtaining a divorce; and
this last act has been done while the suit is still pending, and in
defiance of him who has the power of God upon earth. I cover these lines
with my tears as I write. I confide in you as my friend. Help me to bear
the cross of my tribulation. Write to the Emperor. Bid him insist that
judgment be pronounced. The next Parliament, I am told, will decide if I
and my daughter are to suffer martyrdom. I hope God will accept it as an
act of merit by us, as we shall suffer for the sake of the truth."[199]

Catherine might say, and might mean, that she did not wish to be the cause
of a war. But unless war was to be the alternative of her husband's
submission, the Papal thunders would be as ineffectual as she supposed the
English to be. The Emperor had not decided what he would do. He may still
have clung to the hope that a decision would not be necessary, but he
forced or persuaded the Pope to disregard the danger. The brief was
issued, bearing the date at which it was drawn, and was transmitted to
Flanders as the nearest point to England for publication.

In removing the Queen from his company without waiting for the decision of
his cause, and cohabiting with a certain Anne, Clement told the King that
he was insulting Divine justice and the Papal authority. He had already
warned him, but his monition had not been respected. Again, therefore, he
exhorted him on pain of excommunication to take Catherine back as his
Queen, and put Anne away within a month of the presentation of the present
letter. If the King still disobeyed, the Pope declared both him and Anne
to be, _ipso facto_, excommunicated at the expiration of the term fixed,
and forbade him to divorce himself by his own authority.[200]

It might seem that the end had now come, and that in a month the King, and
the subjects who continued loyal to him, would incur all the consequences
of the Papal censures. But the proceedings of the Court of Rome were
enveloped in formalities. Conditional excommunications affected the
spiritual status of the persons denounced, but went no further. A second
Bull of Excommunication was still requisite, declaring the King deposed
and his subjects absolved from their allegiance, before the secular arm
could be called in; and this last desperate remedy could not decently be
resorted to, with the approval even of the Catholic opinion of Europe,
until it had been decided whether Catherine was really legal queen. The
enthusiastic Ortiz, however, believed that judgment on "the principal
cause" would now be immediately given, and that the victory was won. He
enclosed to the Empress a letter from Catherine to him, "to be preserved
as a relic, since she would one day be canonised." "May God inspire the
King of England," he said, "to acknowledge the error into which the Enemy
of Mankind has led him, and amend his past conduct; otherwise it must
follow that his disobedience to the Pope's injunction and his infidelity
to God once proved, he will be deprived of his kingdom and the execution
of the sentence committed to his Imperial Majesty. This done, all those in
England who fear God will rise in arms, and the King will be punished as
he deserves, the present brief operating as a formal sentence against him.
On the main cause, there being no one in Rome to answer for the opposite
party, sentence cannot long be delayed."[201]

Ortiz was too sanguine, and the vision soon faded. The brief sounded
formidable, but it said no more than had been contained or implied in
another which Clement had issued three years before. He had allowed the
first to be disregarded. He might equally allow the last. Each step which
he had taken had been forced upon him, and his reluctance was not
diminished. Chapuys thought that he had given a brief instead of passing
sentence because he could recall one and could not recall the other; that
"he was playing both with the King and the Emperor;" and in England, as
well as elsewhere, it was thought "that there was some secret intelligence
between him and the King." The Pope and the Emperor had met at Bologna and
Charles's language had been as emphatic as Catherine desired; yet even at
Bologna itself and during the conference Clement had assured the English
Agents that there was still a prospect of compromise. It was even rumoured
that the Emperor would allow the cause to be referred back to England, if
securities could be found to protect the rights of the Princess Mary; nay,
that he had gone so far as to say, "that, if the King made a suitable
marriage, and not a love-marriage, he would bring the Pope and Catherine
to allow the first marriage to be annulled."[202]

In London the talk continued of the removal of the suit from Rome to
Cambray. The Nuncio and the King were observed to be much together and on
improved terms, the Nuncio openly saying that his Holiness wished to be
relieved of the business. It was even considered still possible that the
Pope might concede the dispensation to the King which had been originally
asked for, to marry again without legal process. "If," wrote Chapuys, who
thoroughly distrusted Clement, "the King once gains the point of not being
obliged to appear at Rome, the Pope will have the less shame in granting
the dispensation by absolute power, as it is made out that the King's
right is so evident; and if his Holiness refuses it, the King will be more
his enemy than ever. A sentence is the only sovereign remedy, and the
Queen says the King would not resist, if only from fear of his subjects,
who are not only well disposed to her and to your Majesty, but for the
most part are good Catholics and would not endure excommunication and
interdict. If a tumult arose I know not if the Lady, who is hated by all
the world, would escape with life and jewels. But, unless the Pope takes
care, he will lose his authority here, and his censures will not be
regarded."[203]

It was true that Anne was ill liked in England, and the King, in choosing
her, was testing the question of his marriage in the least popular form
which it could have assumed. The Venetian Ambassador mentions that one
evening "seven or eight thousand women went out of London to seize
Boleyn's daughter," who was supping at a villa on the river, the King not
being with her. Many men were among them in women's clothes. Henry,
however, showed no sign of change of purpose. He had presented her to the
French Court as his intended Queen. And on such a matter he was not to be
moved by the personal objections of his subjects. The month allowed in the
brief went by. She was still at the court, and the continued negotiations
with the Nuncio convinced Catherine's friends that there was mischief at
work behind the scenes. Their uneasiness was increased by the selection
which was now made of a successor to Archbishop Warham.

Thomas Cranmer had been Lord Wiltshire's private chaplain, and had at one
time been his daughter's tutor. He had attended her father on his Embassy
to the Emperor, had been active in collecting opinions on the Continent
favourable to the divorce, and had been resident ambassador at the
Imperial court. He had been much in Germany. He was personally acquainted
with Luther. He had even married, and, though he could not produce his
wife openly, the connection was well known. Protestant priests in taking
wives were asserting only their natural liberty. Luther had married, and
had married a nun. An example laudable at Wittenberg could not be
censurable in London by those who held Luther excused. The German clergy
had released themselves from their vows, as an improvement on the
concubinage which had long and generally prevailed. Wolsey had a son and
was not ashamed of him, even charging his education on English benefices.
Clerical marriages were forbidden only by the Church law, which Parliament
had never been invited to sanction, and though Cranmer could not introduce
a wife into society he was at least as fit for archi-episcopal rank as the
great Cardinal. He was a man of high natural gifts, and ardent to replace
superstition and corruption by purer teaching. The English Liturgy
survives to tell us what Cranmer was. His nomination to the Primacy took
the world by surprise, for as yet he had held no higher preferment than an
archdeaconry; but the reorganisation of the Church was to begin;
Parliament was to meet again in February, and the King needed all the help
that he could find in the House of Lords. The Bishops were still but half
conquered. A man of intellect and learning was required at the head of
them. "King Henry loved a man," it was said. He knew Cranmer and valued
him. The appointment was made known in the first month of the new year.
Before the new Primate could be installed a Bull of Confirmation was still
legally necessary from Rome. The King was in haste. The annates due on the
vacancy of the see of Canterbury were despatched at once, the King himself
advancing the money and taking no advantage of the late Act. Such unusual
precipitancy raised suspicions that something more was contemplated in
which Cranmer's help would be needed.

The knot had, in fact, been cut which Henry had been so long struggling to
untie. The Lady Anne had aspired to being the central figure of a grand
ceremony. Her nuptials were to be attended with the pomp and splendour of
a royal marriage. Public feeling was in too critical a condition to permit
what might have been resented; and, lest the prize should escape her after
all, she had brought down her pride to agree to a private service. When it
was performed, and by whom, was never known. The date usually received was
"on or before the 25th of January." Chapuys says that Cranmer himself
officiated in the presence of the lady's father, mother and brother, two
other friends of the lady, and a Canterbury priest.[204] But Chapuys was
relating only the story current at the time in society. Nothing authentic
has been ascertained.... The fact that the marriage had taken place was
concealed till the divorce could be pronounced by a Court protected by Act
of Parliament, and perhaps with the hope that the announcement could be
softened by the news that the nation might hope for an heir.

Dispatch was thus necessary with Cranmer's Bulls. He himself spoke without
reserve on the right of the King to remarry, "being ready to maintain it
with his life." Chapuys and the Nuncio both wrote to request the Pope not
to be in a hurry with the confirmation of so dangerous a person.[205] The
Pope seemed determined to justify the suspicions entertained of him by his
eagerness to meet Henry's wishes. It is certain that the warning had
reached him.[206] He sent the Bulls with all the speed he could. He knew,
perhaps, what they were needed for.

Henry meanwhile was preparing to meet the Parliament, when the secret
would have to be communicated to the world. The modern reader will
conceive that no other subject could have occupied his mind. The relative
importance of things varies with the distance from which we view them. He
was King of England first. His domestic anxieties held still the second
place. Before the opening, as the matter of greatest consequence, a draft
Act was prepared to carry out the object which in the last year he had
failed in securing--"an Act to restrain bishops from citing or arresting
any of the King's subjects to appear before them, unless the bishop or his
commissary was free from private grudge against the accused, unless there
were three, or at least two, credible witnesses, and a copy of the libel
had in all cases been delivered to the accused, with the names of the
accusers." Such an Act was needed. It was not to shield what was still
regarded as impiety, for Frith was burned a few months later for a denial
of the Real Presence, which Luther himself called heresy. It was to check
the arbitrary and indiscriminate tyranny of a sour, exasperated party, who
were pursuing everyone with fire and sword who presumed to oppose them.
More, writing to Erasmus, said he had purposely stated in his epitaph that
he had been hard upon the heretics. He so hated that folk that, unless
they repented, he preferred their enmity, so mischievous were they to the
world.[207]

The spirit of More was alive and dangerous. To Catholic minds there could
be no surer evidence that the King was given over to the Evil One than
leniency to heretics. They were the more disturbed to see how close the
intimacy had grown between him and the Pope's representative. The Nuncio
was constantly closeted with Henry or the Council. When Chapuys
remonstrated, he said "he was a poor gentleman, living on his salary, and
could not do otherwise." "The Pope had advised him to neglect no
opportunity of promoting the welfare of religion." "Practices," Chapuys
ascertained, were still going forward, and the Nuncio was at the bottom
of them. The Nuncio assured him that he had exhorted the King to take
Catherine back. The King had replied that he would not, and that
reconciliation was impossible. Yet the secret communications did not
cease, and the astonishment and alarm increased when the Nuncio consented
to accompany the King to the opening of Parliament. He was conducted in
state in the Royal barge from Greenwich. Henry sate on the throne, the
Nuncio had a chair on his right, and the French Ambassador on his left.
The object was to show the nation how little was really meant by the
threat of excommunication, to intimidate the Bishops, and to make the
clergy understand the extent of favour which they could expect from the
Nuncio's master. The Nuncio's appearance was not limited to a single
occasion. During the progress of the Session he attended the debates in
the House of Commons. Norfolk gave him notice of the days on which the
Pope would not be directly mentioned, that he might be present without
scandal. The Duke admitted a wish for the world to see that the King and
the Court of Rome understood each other. "By this presumption," said
Chapuys, "they expect to make their profit as regards the people and the
prelates who have hitherto supported the Holy See, who now, for the above
reason, dare not speak, fearing to go against the Pope."[208]

The world wondered and was satisfied. The Opposition was paralysed. The
Bishop of Rochester complained to the Nuncio, and received nothing but
regrets and promises which were not observed. Again, a council was held
of Peers, Bishops, and lawyers to consider the divorce, when it was agreed
at last that the cause might be tried in the Archbishop of Canterbury's
court, and that the arrival of the Bulls would be accepted as a sign of
the Pope's tacit connivance. Chapuys had failed to stop them. "The Queen,"
he said, "was thunderstruck, and complained bitterly of his Holiness. He
had left her to languish for three and a half years since her appeal, and,
instead of giving sentence, had now devised a scheme to prolong her misery
and bastardise her daughter. She knew the King's character. If sentence
was once given there would be no scandal. The King would obey, or, if he
did not, which she thought impossible, she would die happy, knowing that
the Pope had declared for her. Her own mind would be at rest, and the
Princess would not lose her right. The Pope was entirely mistaken if he
thought that he would induce the King to modify his action against the
Church. The Lady and her father, who were staunch Lutherans, were urging
him on. The sentence alone would make him pause. He dared not disobey, and
if the people rose the Lady would find a rough handling." This, Chapuys
said, was the Queen's opinion, which she had commanded him to communicate
to the Emperor. For himself, he could only repeat his request that the
Bulls for Canterbury should be delayed till the sentence was ready for
delivery. If the Pope knew Cranmer's reputation as a heretic, he would be
in no haste to confirm him.[209]

Clement knew well enough what Cranmer was, and the Bulls had been
despatched promptly before the Emperor could interfere. The King
meanwhile had committed himself, and now went straight forward. He allowed
his marriage to be known. Lord Wiltshire had withdrawn his opposition to
it.[210] Lord Rochfort, Anne's brother, was sent at the beginning of March
to Paris, to say that the King had acted on the advice given him by his
good brother at their last interview. He had taken a wife for the
establishment of his realm in the hope of having male issue. He trusted,
therefore, that Francis would remember his promise. In citing him to Rome
the Pope had violated the rights of sovereign Princes. It touched them
all, and, if allowed, would give the Pope universal authority. The time
was passed when such pretensions could be tolerated.[211]

At home he prepared for the worst. The fleet was further increased, new
ships were put on the stocks; the yeomanry were armed, drilled, and
equipped, and England rang with sounds of preparation for war; while in
Parliament the famous Act was introduced which was to form the
constitutional basis of national independence, and to end for ever the
Papal jurisdiction in England. From the time that Convocation had
acknowledged the King to be the Head of the Church the question of appeals
to Rome had been virtually before the country. It was now to be settled,
and English lawsuits were henceforth to be heard and decided within the
limits of the empire. The Sibyl's pages were being rent out one by one.
The Præmunire had been revived, and the Pope's claim of independent right
to interfere by bull or brief in English affairs had been struck rudely
down. Tribute in the shape of annates went next; the appellate
jurisdiction was now to follow. Little would then be left save spiritual
precedence, and this might not be of long continuance. There had been
words enough. The time had come to act. On the introduction of the Act of
Appeals the King spoke out to Chapuys as if the spirit of the Plantagenets
was awake in him. "He said a thousand things in disparagement of the Pope,
complaining of the authority and power he unduly assumed over the kingdoms
of Christendom. He professed to have seen a book from the Papal library,
in which it was maintained that all Christian princes were only
feudatories of the Pope. He himself, he said, intended to put a remedy to
such inordinate ambition, and repair the errors of Henry II. and John, who
had been tricked into making England tributary to the Holy See." "The
Emperor," he said, "not only demanded justice, but would have justice done
in his own way, and according to his own caprice. For himself, he thought
of resuming to the Crown the lands of the clergy, which his predecessors
had alienated without right." Chapuys advised him to wait for a General
Council before he tried such high measures. "But the King could not be
persuaded" that a council was needed for such a purpose.[212]

The Act of Appeals touched too many interests to be passed without
opposition. Private persons as well as princes had appealed to the Roman
law-courts, and suits pending or determined there might be reopened at
home and produce confusion unless provided for. However complacent the
Pope might appear, it could not be supposed that he would bear patiently
the open renunciation of his authority. Excommunication was half perceived
to be a spectre; but spectres had not wholly lost their terrors. With an
excommunication pronounced in earnest might come interdict and stoppage of
trade, perhaps war and rebellion at home; and one of the members for
London said that if the King would refer the question between himself and
the Queen to a General Council, the City of London would give him two
hundred thousand pounds. The arrival of Cranmer's Bulls, while the Act was
still under discussion, moderated the alarm. The Pope evidently was in no
warlike humour. At the bottom of his heart he had throughout been in
Henry's favour; he hoped probably that a time might come when he could say
so, and that all this hostile legislation would then be repealed. When the
excitement was at its hottest, and it was known at Rome, not only that the
last brief had been defied, but that the King was about to marry the lady,
the Pope had borne the news with singular calmness. After all, he said to
the Count de Cifuentes, if the marriage is completed, we have only to
think of a remedy. The remedy, Cifuentes said, was for the Pope to do
justice; the King had been encouraged in his rash course by the toleration
with which he had been treated and the constant delays. Clement answered
that he would certainly do justice; but if the marriage was "a fact
accomplished," he wished to know what the Emperor meant to do. Cifuentes
told him that his Holiness must do his part first, and then the Emperor
would "act as became a powerful and wise Prince."[213]

The Pope had heard this language before. The Emperor was afraid of going
to war with England, and the Pope knew it. The alternative, therefore, was
either to make some concession to Henry or to let him go on as he pleased,
bringing the Holy See into contempt by exposing its weakness: and either
course would be equally dispiriting to the Queen and his own friends in
England. "Everybody," wrote Chapuys, "cries murder on the Pope for his
delays, and for not detaining the Archbishop's Bulls, till the definitive
sentence had been given. He was warned of the danger of granting them.
There is not a lord in the Court of either side who does not say publicly
his Holiness will betray the Emperor. The Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk
speak of it with more assurance, saying they know it well and could give
good evidence of it."[214]

The Act of Appeals, though strongly resisted in the House of Commons for
fear of the consequences, was evidently to pass; and it was now understood
that, as soon as it became law, Cranmer was to try the divorce suit and to
give final judgment. The Pope's extraordinary conduct had paralysed
opposition. The clergy, like some wild animal hardly broken in, were made
to parade their docility and to approve beforehand the Archbishop's
intended action. It was to be done in haste, for Anne was _enceinte_. The
members of the Synod were allowed scant time, even to eat their dinners;
they were so harassed that no one opened his mouth to contradict, except
the Bishop of Rochester, and Rochester had no weight, being alone against
all the rest. So docile was the assembly and so imperious the King that
the Queen and all her supporters now regarded her cause as lost.[215]
Ortiz wrote from Rome to Charles that, "though he was bound to believe the
contrary, he feared the Pope had sent, or might send, absolution to the
King." Something might be done underhand to revoke the last brief,
although the Pope knew what an evil thing it would be, and how ignominious
to the Holy See.[216]

The reforming party in England laughed at the expected interdict. The
Pope, they said, would not dare to try it, or, if he did, Christian
princes would not trouble themselves about him. The King said,
significantly, to the Nuncio that he was only defending himself: "if the
Pope gave him occasion to reconsider the matter, he might undo what was
being aimed at his authority."[217]

The Bill passed more rapidly through its later stages. The Papal
jurisdiction was ended. Anyone who introduced Briefs of Excommunication or
Interdict into the realm was declared guilty of high treason. The Bishop
of Rochester, becoming violent, was committed to friendly custody under
charge of Gardiner, now Bishop of Winchester. Appeals to the Pope on any
matter, secular or spiritual, were forbidden thenceforward, and the Act
was made retrospective, applying to suits already in progress. All was
thus over. The Archbishop's sentence was known beforehand, and Anne Boleyn
was to be crowned at Whitsuntide. Force was now the only remedy, and the
constitutional opposition converted itself into conspiracy, to continue in
that form till the end of the century. The King was convinced that the
strength and energy of the country was with him. When told that there
would be an invasion, he said that the English could never be conquered as
long as they held together. Chapuys was convinced equally that they would
not hold together. The clergy, and a section of the peers with whom he
chiefly associated, spoke all in one tone, and he supposed that the
language which they used to him represented a universal opinion.
Thenceforward he and his English friends began to urge on the Emperor the
necessity of armed intervention, and assured him that he had only to
declare himself to find the whole nation at his back.

"Englishmen, high and low," Chapuys wrote, "desire your Majesty to send an
army to destroy the venomous influence of the Lady and her adherents, and
reform the realm. Forgive my boldness, but your Majesty ought not to
hesitate. When this accursed Anne has her foot in the stirrup she will do
the Queen and the Princess all the hurt she can. She boasts that she will
have the Princess in her own train; one day, perhaps, she will poison her,
or will marry her to some varlet, while the realm itself will be made over
to heresy. A conquest would be perfectly easy. The King has no trained
army. All of the higher ranks and all the nobles are for your Majesty,
except the Duke of Norfolk and two or three besides. Let the Pope call in
the secular arm, stop the trade, encourage the Scots, send to sea a few
ships, and the thing will be over. No injustice will be done, and, without
this, England will be estranged from the Holy Faith and will become
Lutheran. The King points the way and lends them wings, and the
Archbishop of Canterbury does worse. There is no danger of French
interference. France will wait to see the issue, and will give you no more
trouble if this King receives his due. Again forgive me, but pity for the
Queen and Princess obliges me to speak plainly."[218]

The King could hardly be ignorant of the communications between the
disaffected nobles and the Imperial Ambassador, but no outward sign
appeared that he was aware of them. Lord Mountjoy, however, was sent with
a guard to watch Catherine's residence, and, the decisive Act being passed
through Parliament, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with Lord Exeter and
the Earl of Oxford, repaired to her once more to invite her, since she
must see that further resistance was useless, to withdraw her appeal, and
to tell her that, on her compliance, every arrangement should be made for
her state and comfort, with an establishment suited to her rank. Chapuys
demanded an audience of the King to remonstrate, and a remarkable
conversation ensued. The Ambassador said he had heard of the proceedings
in Convocation and in Parliament. It was his duty to speak. If the King
had no regard for men whom he despised, he hoped that he would have
respect to God. "God and his conscience," Henry answered calmly, "were on
perfectly good terms." Chapuys expressed a doubt, and the King assured him
that he was entirely sincere. Chapuys said he could not believe that at a
time when Europe was distracted with heresies the King of England would
set so evil an example. The King rejoined that, if the world found his new
marriage strange, he himself found it more strange that Pope Julius
should have granted a dispensation for his marriage with his brother's
wife. He must have an heir to succeed him in his realm. The Emperor had no
right to prevent him. The Ambassador spoke of the Princess. To provide a
husband for the Princess would be the fittest means to secure the
succession. Henry said he would have children of his own, and Chapuys
ventured on more dangerous ground than he was aware of by hinting that he
could not be sure of that. "Am I not a man," the King said sharply, "am I
not a man like others? Am I not a man?" Thrice repeating the words. "But,"
he added, "I will not let you into my secrets." The Ambassador enquired
whether he intended to remain on friendly terms with the Emperor. The King
asked him with a frown what he meant by that. On his replying that the
Emperor's friendship depended on the treatment of the Queen, the King said
coldly that the Emperor had no right to interfere with the laws and
constitution of England.

Chapuys persisted.

The Emperor, he said, did not wish to meddle with his laws, unless they
personally affected the Queen. The King wanted to force her to abandon her
appeal, and it was not to be expected that she would submit to statutes
which had been carried by compulsion.

The King grew impatient. The statutes, he said, had been passed in
Parliament, and the Queen as a subject must obey them.

The Ambassador retorted that new laws could not be retrospective; and, as
to the Queen being a subject, if she was his wife she was his subject; if
she was not his wife, she was not his subject.

This was true, and Henry was to be made to feel the dilemma. He contented
himself, however, with saying that she must have patience, and obey the
laws of the realm. The Emperor had injured him by hindering his marriage
and preventing him from having male succession. The Queen was no more his
wife than she was Chapuys's. He would do as he pleased, and if the Emperor
made war on him he would fight.

Chapuys inquired whether, if an interdict was issued, and the Spaniards
and Flemings resident in England obeyed it, his statutes would apply to
them.

The King did not answer; but, turning to someone present, he said: "You
have heard the Ambassador hint at excommunication. It is not I that am
excommunicated, but the Emperor, who has kept me so long in mortal sin.
That is an excommunication which the Pope cannot take off."[219]

To the lords who carried the message to Catherine she replied as she had
always done--that Queen she was, and she would never call herself by any
other name. As to her establishment, she wanted nothing but a confessor, a
doctor, and a couple of maids. If that was too much, she would go about
the world and beg alms for the love of God.

"The King," Chapuys said, "was naturally kind and generous," but the "Lady
Anne had so perverted him that he did not seem the same man." Unless the
Emperor acted in earnest, she would make an end of Catherine, as she had
done of Wolsey, whom she did not hate with half as much intensity. "All
seems like a dream," he said. "Her own party do not know whether to laugh
or cry at it. Every day people ask me when I am going away. As long as I
remain here it will be always thought your Majesty has consented to the
marriage."




CHAPTER XIII.

The King's claim--The obstinacy of Catherine--The Court at Dunstable--
Judgment given by Cranmer--Debate in the Spanish Council of State--
Objections to armed interference--The English opposition--Warning given to
Chapuys--Chapuys and the Privy Council--Conversation with Cromwell--
Coronation of Anne Boleyn--Discussions at Rome--Bull _supra Attentatis_--
Confusion of the Catholic Powers--Libels against Henry--Personal history
of Cromwell--Birth of Elizabeth--The King's disappointment--Bishop Fisher
desires the introduction of a Spanish army into England--Growth of
Lutheranism.


If circumstances can be imagined to justify the use of the dispensing
power claimed and exercised by the Papacy, Henry VIII. had been entitled
to demand assistance from Clement VII. in the situation in which he had
found himself with Catherine of Aragon. He had been committed when little
more than a boy, for political reasons, to a marriage of dubious legality.
In the prime of his life he found himself fastened to a woman eight years
older than himself; the children whom she had borne to him all dead,
except one daughter; his wife past the age when she could hope to be again
a mother; the kingdom with the certainty of civil war before it should the
King die without a male heir. In hereditary monarchies, where the
sovereign is the centre of the State, the interests of the nation have to
be considered in the arrangements of his family. Henry had been married
irregularly to Catherine to strengthen the alliance between England and
Spain. When, as a result, a disputed succession and a renewal of the civil
wars was seen to be inevitable, the King had a distinct right to ask to be
relieved of the connection by the same irregular methods. The _causa
urgentissima_, for which the dispensing power was allowed, was present in
the highest degree, and that power ought to have been made use of. That it
was not made use of was due to a control exerted upon the Pope by the
Emperor, whose pride had been offended; and that such an influence could
be employed for such a purpose vitiated the tribunal which had been
trusted with a peculiar and exceptional authority. The Pope had not
concealed his conviction that the demand was legitimate in itself, or
that, in refusing, he was yielding to intimidation, and the inevitable
consequences had followed. Royal persons who receive from birth and
station remarkable favours of fortune occasionally have to submit to
inconveniences attaching to their rank; and, when the occasion rises, they
generally meet with little ceremony. At the outset the utmost efforts had
been made to spare Catherine's feelings. Both the King and the Pope
desired to avoid a judgment on the validity of her marriage. An heir to
the crown was needed, and from her there was no hope of further issue. If
at the beginning she had been found incapable of bearing a child, the
marriage would have been dissolved of itself. Essentially the condition
was the same. Technical difficulties could be disposed of by a Papal
dispensation. She would have remained queen, her honour unaffected, the
legitimacy of Mary unimpugned, the relations between the Holy See and the
Crown and Church of England undisturbed. The obstinacy of Catherine
herself, the Emperor's determination to support her, and the Pope's
cowardice, prevented a reasonable arrangement; and thus the right of the
Pope himself to the spiritual sovereignty of Europe came necessarily under
question, when it implied the subjugation of independent princes to
another power by which the Court of Rome was dominated.

Such a question once raised could have but one answer from the English
nation. Every resource had been tried to the extreme limit of forbearance,
and all had failed before the indomitable will of a single woman. A
request admitted to be just had been met by excommunication and threats of
force. With entire fitness, the King and Parliament had replied by
withdrawing their recognition of a corrupt tribunal, and determining
thenceforward to try and to judge their own suits in their own courts.

Thus, on the 10th of May, Cranmer, with three Bishops as assessors, sate
at Dunstable under the Royal licence to hear the cause which had so long
been the talk of Europe, and Catherine, who was at Ampthill, was cited to
appear. She consulted Chapuys on the answer which she was to make. Chapuys
advised her not to notice the summons. "Nothing done by such a Court could
prejudice her," he said, "unless she renounced her appeal to Rome." As she
made no plea, judgment was promptly given.[220] The divorce was complete
so far as English law could decide it, and it was doubtful to the last
whether the Pope was not at heart a consenting party. The sentence had
been, of course, anticipated. On the 27th of April Chapuys informed the
Emperor how matters then stood.

"Had his Holiness done as he was advised, and inserted a clause in the
Archbishop's Bulls forbidding the Archbishop to meddle in the case, he
would have prevented much mischief. He chose to take his own way, and thus
the English repeat what they have said all along: that in the end the Pope
would deceive your Majesty.... The thing now to be done is to force from
the Pope a quick and sudden decision of the case, so as to silence those
who affirm that he is only procrastinating till he can decide in favour of
the King, or who think that your Majesty will then acquiesce and that
there will be no danger of war.... I have often tried to ascertain from
the Queen what alternative she is looking to, seeing that gentleness
produces no effect. I have found her hitherto so scrupulous in her
profession of respect and affection for the King that she thinks she will
be damned eternally if she takes a step which may lead to war. Latterly,
however, she has let me know that she would like to see some other remedy
tried, though she refers everything to me."[221]

The proceedings at Dunstable may have added to Catherine's growing
willingness for the "other remedy." She was no longer an English subject
in the eye of the law, and might hold herself free to act as she pleased.
Simultaneously, however, a consultation was going forward about her and
her affairs in the Spanish Cabinet which was not promising for Chapuys's
views. The Spanish Ambassador in London, it was said, was urging for war
with England. The history of the divorce case was briefly stated. The
delay of judgment had been caused by the King's protest that he could not
appear at Rome. That point had been decided against the King. The Pope
had promised the Emperor that he would proceed at once to sentence, but
had not done it. Brief on brief had been presented to the King, ordering
him to separate from Anne Boleyn _pendente lite_, but the King had paid no
attention to them--had married the Lady and divorced the Queen. The
Emperor was the Queen's nearest relation. What was he to do? There were
three expedients before him: legal process, force, and law and force
combined. The first was the best; but the King and the realm would refuse
the tribunal, and _the Pope always had been, and still was, very cold and
indifferent in the matter, and most tolerant to the English King_. Open
force, in the existing state of Christendom, was dangerous. To begin an
aggression was always a questionable step. Although the King had married
"Anne de Bulans," he had used no violence against the Queen, or done
anything to justify an armed attack upon him. The question was "a private
one," and the Emperor must consider what he owed to the public welfare.
Should the third course be adopted, the Pope would have to pronounce
judgment and call in the secular arm. All Christian princes would then be
bound to help him, and the Emperor, as the first among them, would have to
place himself at the head of the enterprise. "But would it not be better
and more convenient to avoid, for the present, harsh measures, which might
bring on war and injure trade, and insist only on further censures and a
sentence of deposition against the King? Should the Pope require to know
beforehand what the Emperor would do to enforce the execution, it would be
enough to tell the Pope that he must do his part first; any further
engagement would imply that the sentence on the principal cause had been
decided beforehand. Finally, it would have to be determined whether the
Queen was to remain in England or to leave it."

These were the questions before the Cabinet. A Privy Councillor, perhaps
Granvelle (the name is not mentioned), gave his own opinion, which was
seemingly adopted.

_All_ these ways were to be tried. The Pope must proceed with the suit.
Force must be suspended for the present, _the cause being a personal one,
and having already begun when peace was made at Cambray_. The Pope must
conclude the principal matter, or at least insist on the revocation of
what had been done since the suit commenced, and then, perhaps, force
would not be required at all. The advice of the Consulta on the answer to
be given to the Pope, should he require to know the Emperor's intentions,
was exactly right. Nothing more need be said than that the Emperor would
not forget the obligations which devolved on him, as an obedient son of
the Church. The Queen, meanwhile, must remain in England. If she came
away, a rupture would be inevitable.

The speaker advised further that a special embassy should be sent to
England to remonstrate with the King.

This, however, if unsuccessful, it was felt would lead to war; and
opposite to the words the Emperor himself wrote on the margin an emphatic
_No_.[222]

The mention of the peace of Cambray is important. The divorce had reached
an acute stage before the peace was concluded. It had not been spoken of
there, and the Emperor was diplomatically precluded from producing it as a
fresh injury. Both he and the Council were evidently unwilling to act. The
Pope knew their reluctance, and did not mean, if he could help it, to
flourish his spiritual weapons without a sword to support them.

The King wrote to inform Charles of his marriage. "In the face of the
Scotch pretensions to the succession," he said, "other heirs of his body
were required for the security of the Crown. The thing was done, and the
Pope must make the best of it." This was precisely what the Pope was
inclined to do. Cifuentes thought that, though he seemed troubled, "he was
really pleased."[223] "He said positively that, if he was to declare the
King of England deprived of his crown, the Emperor must bind himself to
see the sentence executed."[224] Charles had no intention of binding
himself, nor would his Cabinet advise him to bind himself. The time was
passed when Most Catholic Princes could put armies in motion to execute
the decrees of the Bishop of Rome. The theory might linger, but the facts
were changed. Philip II. tried the experiment half a century later, but it
did not answer to him. A fresh order of things had risen in Europe, and
passionate Catholics could not understand it. Dr. Ortiz shrieked that "the
King, by his marriage, was guilty of heresy and schism;" the Emperor ought
to use the opportunity, without waiting for further declarations from the
Pope, and unsheath the sword which God had placed in his hands.[225]
English Peers and Prelates, impatient of the rising strength of the
Commons and of the growth of Lutheranism, besieged Chapuys with entreaties
for an Imperial force to be landed. They told him that Richard III. was
not so hated by the people as Henry; but that, without help from abroad,
they dared not declare themselves.[226] Why could they not dare? The King
had no janissaries about his throne. Why could they not stand up in the
House of Lords and refuse to sanction the measures which they disapproved?
Why, except that they were _not_ the people. Numbers might still be on
their side, but the daring, the intellect, the fighting-strength of
England was against them, and the fresh air of dawning freedom chilled
their blood. The modern creed is that majorities have a right to rule. If,
out of every hundred men, four-fifths will vote on one side, but will not
fight without help from the sword of the stranger; and the remaining fifth
will both vote and fight--fight domestic cowards and foreign foes
combined--which has the right to rule? The theory may be imperfect; but it
is easy to foresee which will rule in fact. The marriage with Anne was
formally communicated in the House of Lords. There were some murmurs. The
King rose from the throne and said it had been necessary for the welfare
of the realm. Peers and Commons acquiesced, and no more was said. The
coronation of the new Queen was fixed for the 19th of May.

If the great men who had been so eager with Chapuys were poltroons,
Chapuys himself was none. Rumours were flying that the Emperor was coming
to waste England, destroy the Royal family, and place a foreign Prince on
the throne. The Ambassador addressed a letter to Henry, saying that he
held powers to take action for the preservation of the Queen's rights; and
he gave him notice that he intended to enter immediately on the duties of
his office.[227] Henry showed no displeasure at so bold a communication,
but sent Thomas Cromwell to him, who was now fast rising into consequence,
to remind him that, large as was the latitude allowed to Ambassadors, he
must not violate the rights of the Crown, and to warn him to be careful.
He was then summoned before the Privy Council. Norfolk had previously
cautioned him against introducing briefs or letters from the Pope, telling
him that if he did he would be torn in pieces by the people. The Council
demanded to see the powers which he said that he possessed. He produced
directions which he had received to watch over the Queen's rights, and he
then remarked on the several briefs by which the King was virtually
excommunicated. Lord Wiltshire told him that if any subject had so acted
he would have found himself in the Tower. The King wished him well; but if
he wore two faces, and meddled with what did not concern him, he might
fall into trouble.

Chapuys replied that the Council were like the eels of Melun, which cried
out before they were skinned. He had done nothing, so far. He had not
presented any "Apostolic letters." As to two faces, the Earl meant, he
supposed, that he was about to act as the Queen's Proctor as well as
Ambassador; he was not a lawyer; he had no such ambition. Then, speaking
in Latin, because part of the Council did not understand French, he dwelt
on the old friendship between the Emperor and the King. He said that the
part which the Emperor had taken about the divorce was as much for the
sake of the King and the realm as for the sake of the Queen, although the
Queen and Princess were as a mother and a sister to him. He went through
the case; he said their statutes were void in themselves, and, even if
valid, could not be retrospective. The Archbishop had been just sworn to
the Pope. He had broken his oath, and was under excommunication,[228] and
was, therefore, disqualified to act. He reminded the Council of the Wars
of the Roses, and told them they were sharpening the thorns for fresh
struggles.

Doctor Foxe (the King's Almoner, afterwards bishop) replied that the King
could not live with his brother's wife without sin, and therefore left
her. It was a fact accomplished, and no longer to be argued. To challenge
the action of the Archbishop was to challenge the law of the land, and was
not to be allowed. The Pope had no authority in England, spiritual or
temporal. The introduction of bulls or briefs from Rome was unlawful, and
could not be sheltered behind immunities of ambassadors. Chapuys was the
representative of the Emperor, not of the Pope, and Foxe cautioned him
against creating disturbances in the realm.

To this Chapuys quietly answered that he would do his duty, let the
consequences be what they might. Being again warned, he said he would wait
for two or three days, within which he looked for a satisfactory reply
from the King.

In leaving the council-room, he said, in imperious fashion, as if he was
addressing a set of criminals, that reports were current about the Emperor
which he desired to notice. Some declared that he had consented to the
marriage with the Lady Anne. Others that he meant to make war. Both
allegations alike were false and malicious. So far from wishing to injure
England, the Emperor wished to help and support it, and could not believe
that he would ever be obliged to act otherwise; and as to consenting to
the divorce, if the Pope declared for it he would submit to the Pope's
judgment; otherwise the world would not turn him from the path which he
meant to follow. He was acting as the King's best friend, as the King
would acknowledge if he could forget his passion for the Lady and consider
seriously his relations with the Emperor. He begged the Council,
therefore, to prevent such rumours from being circulated if they did not
wish Chapuys to contradict them himself.

The Ambassador was keeping within the truth when he said that Charles was
not meditating war. Chapuys's instructions when first sent to England had
been not to make matters worse than they were, not to threaten war, nor to
imply in any way that there was danger of war.[229] He had himself,
however, insisted that there was no alternative. He had encouraged
Catherine's friends with hope of eventual help, and continued to convey to
the Emperor their passionate wish that "his Majesty's hand would soon
reach England," before "the accursed woman" made an end of the Queen and
of them--to tell him that, were his forces once on land, they might raise
as many men as they pleased, and the London citizens would stand by, "keep
the enlistment money," and wait to see which party won. As long, however,
as his master was undecided he would not, he said, take measures which
would do no good, and only lead to inconvenience. He had merely given the
Council "a piece of his mind," and had said what no one else would say,
for fear of Lady Anne.

The answer to his letter which he expected from the King did not arrive,
but instead of it an invitation to dinner from the Duke of Norfolk, which
he refused lest his consent should be misconstrued. Ultimately, however,
Cromwell came to him with the King's permission. Cromwell, strange to say,
had been a strong advocate for the Imperial alliance, in opposition to the
French, and with Cromwell the Ambassador's relations were more easy than
with the Duke. Their conversations were intimate and confidential. Chapuys
professed a hope that the King's affection for the Lady would pass off,
and promised, for himself, to pour no more oil on the fire till he
received fresh orders. If they wished for peace, however, he said they
must be careful of their behaviour to the Queen, and he complained of the
removal of her arms from her barge in the river. Such petty acts of
persecution ought to be avoided. The removal of the arms was the work of
some too zealous friend of Anne. Cromwell had not heard of it, and said
that the King would be greatly displeased. Meanwhile he trusted that
Spanish notions of honour would not interfere with a friendship so useful
to both countries. If it came to war, England would not be found an easy
conquest. He defended the King's action. The Pope would not do him
justice, so he had slapped the Pope in the face. No doubt he had been
influenced by love for the Lady. Neither the King himself, nor all the
Preachers in the world, would convince him that love had nothing to do
with it. But the King was well read in the canon law, and if his
conscience was satisfied it was enough.

As Cromwell was so frank, Chapuys asked him when and where the marriage
with Anne had been concluded. Cromwell either would not or could not tell
him, saying merely that Norfolk had not been present at the ceremony, but
others of the Council had, and there was no doubt that it had really taken
place.

So matters stood in England, every one waiting to learn how the Emperor
would act. Anne Boleyn was duly crowned at Whitsuntide--a splendid
official pageant compensating for the secrecy of her marriage. The streets
were thronged with curious spectators, but there was no enthusiasm. The
procession was like a funeral. The Pope was about to meet the King of
France at Nice. Norfolk was commissioned to attend the interview, and, as
Henry still hoped that the Duke would bring back an acquiescence in his
wishes from Clement, Chapuys saw him before his departure. The Duke said
the peace of the world now depended on the Emperor. He repeated that his
niece's marriage had been no work of his. Her father and he had always
been against it, and, but for them, it would have happened a year before.
She had been furious with both of them. She was now _enceinte_, and had
told her father and himself and Suffolk that she was in better plight than
they wished her to be. To attempt to persuade the King to take Catherine
back either by threat or argument would be labour thrown away, such "were
his scruples of conscience and his despair of having male succession by
her."

At Cromwell's intercession, the Bishop of Rochester was now released from
confinement, and politics were quiet, till the effect was seen of the Nice
conference. Anxious consultations were held at Rome before the Pope set
out. The Cardinals met in consistory. Henry's belief had been that Francis
was prepared to stand by him to the uttermost, and would carry Clement
with him. He was now to find, either that he had been misled or had
wilfully deceived himself. Cardinal Tournon, who was supposed to have
carried an ultimatum from the meeting at Calais, had required the Pope to
suspend the process against Henry:[230] if the Pope replied that the
offence was too great, and that he must deprive him, Francis did not say
that he would risk excommunication himself by taking an open part, but had
directed the Cardinal to urge the removal of the suit to a neutral place,
as had been often proposed. The Pope told the Count de Cifuentes that this
suggestion had been already discussed with the Emperor, and that the
Emperor had not entirely disapproved;[231] but the cunning and treacherous
Clement had formed a plan of his own by which he thought he could save
England and punish Henry. Francis being less firm than he had feared, he
thought that, by working on French ambition, he could detach Francis
completely from his English ally. The French were known to be eager to
recover Calais. What if Calais could be offered them as a bait? They might
turn their coats as they had so often done before.[232] Cunning and
weakness generally go together. It was an ingenious proposal, and throws a
new light on Clement's character. Nothing came of it, for the Emperor,
with a view to the safety of Flanders and the eventual recovery of the
English alliance, declined to sanction a change of ownership on his own
frontier. Finding no encouragement, Clement relapsed into his usual
attitude. The Imperialists continued to press for the delivery of
sentence before the Pope should leave Rome. The Pope continued to insist
on knowing the Emperor's intentions.

A Spanish lawyer, Rodrigo Davalos, had been sent to Rome to dissuade the
Pope from the Nice interview, and to quicken the action of the Rota.

"Queen Catherine's suit," he said, "had been carried on as if it were that
of the poorest woman in the world. Since Cifuentes and he had been there
the process had been pushed on, but the Advocates and Proctors had not
received a real. Their hands required anointing to make them stick to
their business. The Cardinals were at sixes and sevens, and refused to
pull together, do what Davalos would."[233]

Davalos, being a skilful manipulator and going the right way to work,
pressed the process forward in the Rota without telling the Pope what he
was doing, since Clement would have stopped it had he not been kept in
ignorance. But, "God helping, no excuse was left." The forms were all
concluded, and nothing remained but to pass the long-talked-of sentence.
The Pope was so "importuned" by the French and English Ambassadors to
suspend it till after the meeting at Nice that Davalos could not say
whether he would get it, after all; but he told the Pope that further
hesitation would be regarded by the Emperor as an outrage, and would raise
suspicion through the whole world. The Pope promised, but where goodwill
was wanting trifles were obstacles. Davalos confessed that he had no faith
in his promise. He feared the Pope must have issued some secret brief,
which stood in his way.[234]

Clement, however, was driven on in spite of himself. Judgment on the
principal cause could not be wrung from him. Cardinal Salviati was of
opinion that they would never give it till the Emperor would promise that
it should be executed.[235] But a Brief _super Attentatis_, which was said
to be an equivalent, Clement was required to sign, and did sign--a Bull on
which Charles could act if occasion served, the Pope himself swearing
great oaths that Henry had used him ill, and that he would bribe Francis
to forsake him by the promise of Calais.[236]

One more touch must be added to complete the comedy of distraction. A
proposal of the Spanish Council to send a special embassy to London to
remonstrate with the King had been definitely rejected by the Emperor. It
was revived by Chapuys, with whom it had probably originated. He imagined
that the most distinguished representatives of the Spanish nation might
appear at the English Court and protest against the ill-usage of the
daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella. If the King refused them satisfaction,
they might demand to be heard in Parliament. The King would then be placed
in the wrong before his own people. The nobles of Aragon and Castile would
offer their persons and their property to maintain the Queen's right; and
Chapuys said, "_Not a Spaniard would hesitate if they were privately
assured first that they would not be taken at their word_."[237]

Leaving the Catholic Powers in confusion and uncertainty, we return to
England. Catherine had rejected every proposal which had been made to
her. There could not be two queens in the same country, and, after Anne's
coronation, a deputation waited upon her to intimate that her style must
be changed. She must now consent to be termed Princess Dowager, when an
establishment would be provided for her as the widow of the King's
brother. Her magnificent refusal is well known to history. Cromwell spoke
with unbounded admiration of it. Yet it was inconvenient, and increased
the difficulty of providing for her, since she declined to accept any
grants which might be made to her under the new title, or to be attended
by any person who did not treat her and address her as queen. It would
have been better if she had required to be allowed to return to Castile;
but both the Spanish Council and the Emperor had decided that she must
remain in England. The Princess had been allowed to rejoin her. The mother
and daughter had made short expeditions together, and had been received
with so much enthusiasm that it was found necessary again to part them.
Stories were current of insulting messages which Catherine had received
from the Lady Anne, false probably, and meant only to create exasperation.
The popular feeling was warmly in her favour. She was personally liked as
much as Anne was hated; and the King himself was not spared. As a specimen
of the licence of language, "a Mrs. Amadas, witch and prophetess, was
indicted for having said that 'the Lady Anne should be burned, for she was
a harlot. Master Norris (Sir Henry Norris, Equerry to Henry) was bawd
between her and the King. The King had kept both the mother and the
daughter, and Lord Wiltshire was bawd to his wife and to his two
daughters.'"[238] In July the news arrived from Rome of the Brief _de
Attentatis_, and with it the unpleasant intelligence that Francis could
not be depended on, and that the hopes expected from the meeting at Nice
would not be realised. The disappointment was concealed from Anne, for
fear of endangering the expected child. Norfolk, who had waited in Paris
to proceed in the French King's train, was ordered to return to England.
Henry was not afraid, but he was discovering that he had nothing to rely
upon but himself and the nation. The terms on which France and the Empire
stood towards each other were so critical that he did not expect the
Emperor to quarrel with England if he could help it. Chapuys seemed
studiously to seek Cromwell. Of Cromwell's fidelity to himself Henry was
too well assured to feel uneasy about their intimacy, and therefore they
met often and as freely exchanged their thoughts. Chapuys found Cromwell
"a man of sense, well versed in affairs of State, and able to judge
soundly," with not too good an opinion of the Lady Anne, who returned his
dislike. Anne was French; Cromwell was Imperialist beyond all the rest of
the Council.

"I told him," wrote the Ambassador to Charles, after one of these
conversations, "I often regretted your Majesty had not known him in
Wolsey's time. He would have been a greater man than the Cardinal, and the
King's affairs would have gone much better. He seemed pleased, so I
continued. Now was the time for him to do his master better service than
ever man did before. Sentence had been given in Rome against the King, and
there was no further hope that your Majesty and the Pope would agree to
the divorce. I presumed that the King being so reasonable, virtuous, and
humane a prince, would not persist longer and blemish the many gifts which
God had bestowed on him. I prayed him to move the King. He could do more
with him than any other man. He was not in the Council when the accursed
business was first mooted. The Queen trusted him, and, when reinstated,
would not forget his service. Cromwell took what I said in good part. He
assured me that all the Council desired your Majesty's friendship. He
would do his best, and hoped that things would turn out well. If I can
believe what he says there is still a hope that the King may change. I
will set the net again and try if I can catch him; but one cannot be too
cautious. The King is disturbed by what has passed at Rome. He fears the
Pope will seduce the French King from him."[239]

"Who was this Cromwell that had grown to such importance?" Granvelle had
asked. "He is the son," replied Chapuys, "of a farrier in Chelsea, who is
buried in the parish church there. His uncle, father of Richard Cromwell,
was cook to the Archbishop of Canterbury. This Thomas Cromwell was wild in
his youth, and had to leave the country. He went to Flanders and to Rome.
Returning thence he married the daughter of a wool merchant, and worked at
his father-in-law's business. After that he became a solicitor. Wolsey,
finding him diligent and a man of ability for good or ill, took him into
service and employed him in the suppression of religious houses. When
Wolsey fell he behaved extremely well. The King took him into his secret
Council. Now he is above everyone, except the Lady, and is supposed to
have more credit than ever the Cardinal had. He is hospitable and liberal,
speaks English well, and Latin, French, and Italian tolerably."[240]

The intimacy increased. Cromwell, though Imperial in politics and no
admirer of Anne Boleyn, was notoriously Henry's chief adviser in the
reform of the clergy; but to this aspect of him Chapuys had no objection.
Neither the Ambassador nor Charles, nor any secular statesman in Europe,
was blind to the enormities of Churchmen or disposed to lift a finger for
them, if reform did not take the shape of Lutheranism. Charles himself had
said that, if Henry had no objects beyond the correction of the
spiritualty, he would rather aid than obstruct him. Between Chapuys and
Cromwell there was thus common ground; and Cromwell's hint that the King
might perhaps reconsider his position may not have been wholly groundless.

The action of the Rota, pressed through by Davalos, had taken Henry by
surprise. He had not expected that the Pope would give a distinct judgment
against him. He had been equally disappointed in the support which he
expected from Francis. That he should now hesitate for an instant was
natural and inevitable; but the irresolution, if real, did not last.
Norfolk wrote to the King from Paris "to care nothing for the Pope:" there
were men "enough at his side in England to defend his right with the
sword."[241] Henry appealed to a General Council, when a Council could be
held which should be more than a Papal delegacy. The revenues of the
English sees which were occupied by Campeggio and Ghinucci he
sequestrated, as a sign of the abandonment of a detestable system.

His own mind, meanwhile, was fastened on the approaching confinement of
Anne. With the birth of a male heir to the Crown he knew that his
difficulties would vanish. Nurses and doctors had assured him of a son,
and the event was expected both by him and by others with passionate
expectation. A Prince of Wales would quiet the national uncertainty. It
would be the answer of Heaven to Pope and Emperor, and a Divine sanction
of his revolt. There is danger in interpreting Providence before the
event. If the anticipation is disappointed the weight of the sentence may
be thrown into the opposing scale.

To the bitter "mortification of the King and the Lady, to the reproach of
physicians, astrologers, sorcerers, and sorceresses who affirmed that the
child would be a male,"[242] to the delight of Chapuys and the perplexity
of a large section of the English people who were waiting for Providence
to speak, on the 7th of September the girl who was afterwards to be Queen
Elizabeth was brought into the world.

This was the worst blow which Henry had received. He was less given to
superstition than most of his subjects, but there had been too much of
appeals to Heaven through the whole of the controversy. The need of a male
heir had been paraded before Christendom as the ground of his action. He
had already discovered that Anne was not what his blindness to her faults
had allowed him to believe; he was fond of the Princess Mary, and Anne had
threatened to make a waiting-maid of her. The new Queen had made herself
detested in the Court by her insolence; there had been "lover's
quarrels,"[243] from which Catherine's friends had gathered hopes, and
much must have passed behind the scenes of which no record survives. A
lady of the bed-chamber had heard Henry say he would "rather beg from
door to door than forsake her;"[244] on the other hand, Anne acknowledged
afterwards that his love had not been returned, and she could hardly have
failed to let him see it. Could she be the mother of a prince she was
safe, but on this she might well think her security depended. All Henry's
male children, except the Duke of Richmond, had died at the birth or in
infancy; and words which she let fall to her sister-in-law, Lady Rochford,
implied a suspicion that the fault was in the King.[245] It is not without
significance that in the subsequent indictment of Sir Henry Norris it was
alleged that on the 6th of October, 1533, less than a month after Anne's
confinement, she solicited Norris to have criminal intercourse with her,
and that on the 12th the act was committed. But to this subject I shall
return hereafter.

Anyway, the King made the best of his misfortune. If the first adventure
had failed, a second might be more successful. The unwelcome daughter was
christened amidst general indifference, without either bonfires or
rejoicings. She was proclaimed Princess, and the title was taken away from
her sister Mary. Chapuys, after what Cromwell had said to him, trusted
naturally that the King's mind would be affected by his disappointment.
They met again. Chapuys urged that it would be easier to set things
straight than at an earlier stage. The King, being of a proud temper,
would have felt humiliated if he had been baffled. He might now listen to
reason. It was said of Englishmen that when they had made a mistake they
were more ready to confess it than other people; and, so far from losing
in public esteem, he would only gain, if he now admitted that he had been
wrong. The Emperor would send an embassy requesting him affectionately to
take Catherine back; his compliance would thus lose all appearance of
compulsion. The expectation was reasonable. Cromwell, however, had to tell
him in earnest language that it could not be; and the Catholic party in
England, who had hoped as Chapuys hoped, and found themselves only further
embittered by the exclusion of Mary from the succession, became desperate
in turn. From this period their incipient treason developed into definite
conspiracy, the leader among the disaffected and the most influential from
his reputed piety and learning being Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, whose
subsequent punishment has been the text for so many eloquent invectives.
Writing on the 27th of September to the Emperor, Chapuys says: "The good
Bishop of Rochester has sent to me to notify that the arms of the Pope
against these obstinate men are softer than lead, and that your Majesty
must set your hand to it, in which you will do a work as agreeable to God
as a war against the Turk."[246] This was not all. The Bishop had gone on
to advise a measure which would lead immediately and intentionally to a
revival of the Wars of the Roses. "If matters come to a rupture, the
Bishop said it would be well for your Majesty to attach to yourself the
son of the Princess Mary's governess [the Countess of Salisbury, mother
of Reginald Pole], daughter of the Duke of Clarence, to whom, according to
the opinion of many, the kingdom would belong. He is now studying at
Padua. On account of the pretensions which he and his brother would have
to the crown, the Queen would like to bestow the Princess on him in
marriage, and the Princess would not refuse. He and his brothers have many
kinsmen and allies, of whose services your Majesty might make use and gain
the greater part of the realm."[247]

The Bishop of Rochester might plead a higher allegiance as an excuse for
conspiring to dethrone his Sovereign. But those who play such desperate
games stake their lives upon the issue, and if they fail must pay the
forfeit. The Bishop was not the only person who thus advised Chapuys.
Rebellion and invasion became the settled thought of the King's opponents,
and Catherine was expected to lend her countenance. The Regent's Council
at Brussels, bolder than the Spanish, were for immediate war. A German
force might be thrown across the Channel. The Flemish nobles might
hesitate, but would allow ships to carry an army to Scotland. The army
might then march south; Catherine would join it, and appear in the
field.[248] Catherine herself bade Chapuys charge the Pope in her name to
proceed to the execution of the sentence[249] "in the most rigorous terms
of justice possible;" the King, she said, would then be brought to reason
when he felt the bit. She did not advocate violence in words, though what
she did advocate implied violence and made it inevitable. Fisher was
prepared for any extremity. "The good and holy Bishop of Rochester,"
Chapuys repeated, "would like your Majesty to take active measures
immediately, as I wrote in my last, which advice he has sent to me again
lately to repeat.[250] Without this they fear disorder. The smallest force
would suffice."

Knowing Charles's unwillingness, the Ambassador added a further
incitement. Among the preachers, he said, there was one who spread worse
errors than Luther. The Prelates all desired to have him punished, but the
Archbishop of Canterbury held him up, the King would not listen to them;
and, were it not that he feared the people, would long since have
professed Lutheranism himself.[251]




CHAPTER XIV.

Interview between the Pope and Francis at Marseilles--Proposed
compromise--The divorce case to be heard at Cambray--The Emperor
consents--Catherine refuses--The story of the Nun of Kent--Bishop Fisher
in the Tower--Imminent breach with the Papacy--Catherine and the Princess
Mary--Separation of the Princess from her mother--Catherine at Kimbolton--
Appeals to the Emperor--Encouragement of Lutheranism--Last efforts of
Rome--Final sentence delivered by the Pope--The Pope's authority abolished
in England.


The Pope's last brief had been sufficiently definite to enable the Emperor
to act upon it if Henry still disobeyed. English scruples, however,
required a judgment on the divorce itself before force was openly tried.
Clement went, as he had intended, to France in October, and met the French
King at Marseilles. Norfolk, as has been said, was not allowed to be
present; but Gardiner and Bonner attended as inferior agents to watch the
proceedings. Cifuentes followed the Papal Court for Charles, and the
English Nuncio, who had been at last recalled, was present also. The main
result of the interview was the marriage of the Duke of Orleans to the
Pope's niece, Catherine de' Medici, a guarantee that Francis was not to
follow England into schism but was to remain Catholic. The engagements
with which he had tempted Henry into committing himself were thus
abandoned, and the honour which had been saved at Pavia was touched, if it
was not lost. It had strength enough, however, to lead him still to exert
himself to bring Clement to reason. The bribe of Calais was not tried
upon him, having been emphatically negatived by the Emperor. The
Chancellor of France presented in Henry's name a formal complaint of the
Pope's conduct. It was insisted that when he commissioned Campeggio to go
to England, he had formally promised not to revoke the cause to Rome, and
this promise he had violated. The Pope's answer was curious. He admitted
the promise, but he said it was conditional on Queen Catherine's consent,
_though this clause was not inserted in the commission lest it might
suggest to her to complain_.[252] The answer was allowed to pass. Other
objections were similarly set aside, and then the Cardinal de Tarbes,
professing to speak in Henry's name, proposed that the Pope should appoint
another commission to hear the cause at Cambray, himself nominating the
judges. If the Pope would comply he was authorised to say that the King
would obey, and, pending the trial, would separate from Anne and recall
Catherine to the court. Cifuentes had again urged the Pope to declare
Henry deprived. The Pope had refused on the ground that, unless the
Emperor would bind himself to execute the sentence in arms, the Holy See
would lose reputation.[253] He had, therefore, a fair excuse for listening
to the French suggestion. The Cardinals deliberated, and thought it ought
to be accepted. If the King would really part with Anne the cause might be
even heard in England itself, and no better course could be thought of.
The proposal was referred, through the Papal Nuncio, to the Emperor, and
the Emperor wrote on the margin of the Nuncio's despatch to him that he
could give no answer till he had communicated with Catherine, but that he
would write and recommend her to follow the course pointed out by his
Holiness.[254]

The Spanish party suspected a trick. They thought that there might be an
appearance of compliance with the Pope's brief. Catherine might be allowed
a room in the Palace till the cause was removed from Rome. It was all but
gained in the Rota; if referred back in the manner proposed, it would be
delayed by appeals and other expedients till it became interminable. Their
alternative was instant excommunication. But the Pope had the same answer.
How could he do that? He did not know that the Emperor would take up arms.
Were he to issue the censures, and were no effect to follow, the Apostolic
See would be discredited. De Tarbes was asked to produce his commission
from Henry to make suggestions in his name. It was found when examined to
be insufficient. Henry himself, when he learnt what had been done,
"changed colour, crushed the letter in his hands, and exclaimed that the
King of France had betrayed him."[255] But he had certainly made some
concession or other. The time allowed in the last brief had run out. The
French Cardinals did not relinquish their efforts. They demanded a
suspension of six months, till Henry and Francis could meet again and
arrange something which the Pope could accept. The Pope, false himself,
suspected every one to be as false as he was. He suspected that a private
arrangement was being made between Henry and the Emperor, and Cifuentes
himself could not or would not relieve his misgivings. In the midst of
the uncertainty a courier came in from England with an appeal _ad futurum
Concilium_--when a council could be held that was above suspicion. The
word "council" always drove Clement distracted. He complained to Francis,
and Francis, provoked at finding his efforts paralysed, said angrily that,
were it not for his present need of the King of England's friendship lest
others should forestall him there, he would play him a trick that he
should remember. The suspension of the censures for an indefinite time was
granted, however, after a debate in the Consistory. The English Council,
when the proposal for the hearing of the cause at Cambray was submitted to
them, hesitated over their answer. They told Chapuys that such a
compromise as the Pope offered might once have been entertained, but
nothing now would induce the King to sacrifice the interests of his
new-born daughter; "all the Ambassadors in the world would not move him,
nor even the Pope himself, if he came to visit him."[256]

Nevertheless, so anxious were all parties now at the last moment to find
some conditions or other to prevent the division of Christendom that the
Cardinal de Tarbes's proposition, or something like it, might have been
accepted. The Emperor, however, had made his consent contingent on
Catherine's acquiescence, and Catherine herself refused--refused
resolutely, absolutely, and finally. Charles had written to her as he had
promised. Chapuys sent her down the letter with a draft of the terms
proposed, and he himself strongly exhorted her to agree. He asked for a
distinct "Yes" or "No," and Catherine answered "No." Her cause should be
heard in Rome, she said, and nowhere but in Rome; the removal to Cambray
meant only delay, and from delay she had suffered long enough; should Anne
Boleyn have a son meanwhile, the King would be more obstinate than ever.
The Pope must be required to end the cause himself and to end it quickly.
The Emperor knew her determination and might have spared his
application.[257] She wrote to Chapuys "that, sentence once pronounced,
the King, for all his bravado and obstinacy, would listen to reason, and
war would be unnecessary." "On that point," the Ambassador said, "she
would not find a single person to agree with her."[258]

Catherine had pictured to herself a final triumph, and she could not part
with the single hope which had cheered her through her long trial. If any
chance of accommodation remained after her peremptory answer, it was
dispelled by the discovery of the treason connected with the Nun of Kent.
The story of Elizabeth Barton has been told by me elsewhere. Here it is
enough to say that from the beginning of the divorce suit a hysterical
woman, professing to have received Divine revelations, had denounced the
King's conduct in private and public, and had influenced the judgment of
peers, bishops, statesmen, and privy councillors. She had been treated at
first as a foolish enthusiast, but her prophecies had been circulated by
an organisation of itinerant friars, and had been made use of to feed the
disaffection which had shown itself in the overtures to Chapuys. The
effect which she had produced had been recently discovered. She had been
arrested, had made a large confession, and had implicated several of the
greatest names in the realm. She had written more than once to the Pope.
She had influenced Warham. She had affected the failing intellect of
Wolsey. The Bishop of Rochester, the Marquis and Marchioness of Exeter,
had admitted her to intimate confidence. Even Sir Thomas More had at one
time half believed that she was inspired. Catherine, providentially, as
Chapuys thought, had declined to see her, but was acquainted with all that
passed between her and the Exeters.

When brought before the Council she was treated _comme une grosse
dame_--as a person of consideration. The occasion was of peculiar
solemnity, and great persons were in attendance from all parts of the
realm. The Chancellor, in the Nun's presence, gave a history of her
proceedings. He spoke of the loyalty and fidelity which had been generally
shown by the nation during the trying controversy. The King had married a
second wife to secure the succession and provide for the tranquillity of
the realm. The woman before them had instigated the Pope to censure him,
and had endeavoured to bring about a rebellion to deprive him of his
throne. The audience, who had listened quietly so far, at the word
"rebellion" broke out into cries of "To the stake! to the stake!" The Nun
showed no alarm, but admitted quietly that what the Chancellor said was
true. She had acknowledged much, but more lay behind, and Chapuys
confessed himself alarmed at what she might still reveal. Cromwell
observed to him that "God must have directed the sense and wit of the
Queen to keep clear of the woman." But Catherine's confessor had been
among the most intimate of her confederates; and to be aware of treason
and not reveal it was an act of treason in itself. Sir Thomas More cleared
himself. Fisher, the guiltiest of all, was sent to the Tower for
misprision.

The Pope's final sentence was now a certainty. Francis had cleared his
conscience by advocating the compromise. Nothing more could be done, he
said, unless Cranmer's judgment was revoked. He chose to forget that the
compromise had been rejected by Catherine herself. He complained that as
fast as he studied to gain the Pope the English studied to lose him. He
had devised a plan, and the English spoilt it. He regretted that he had
ever meddled in the matter. The Pope could not help himself; but must now
excommunicate the King and call on Christendom to support him.[259]

Henry could no longer doubt that he was in serious danger. To the risk of
invasion from abroad, disaffection at home had to be added. How far it
extended he did not yet know. All along, however, he had been preparing
for what the future might bring. The fleet was in high order; the
fortifications at Dover and Calais had been repaired; if the worst came he
meant to be ready for it; the stoppage of trade might be serious; it was
to this that Catherine looked as her most effective weapon; but English
commerce was as important to Spain and Flanders as the Flemish woollens to
the London citizens, and the leading merchants on both sides came to an
understanding that an Interdict would be disregarded. The Lutherans had
the courage of their opinions and could be depended on to fight. The laws
against heretics were allowed to sleep. Their numbers increased, and the
French Ambassador observed to Chapuys that they would not easily be
eradicated. Many who were orthodox in the faith were bitter against Rome
and Romanism. The Duke of Norfolk was the loudest of them all. Flanders
could not live, he said, to a deputation of alarmed citizens, without the
English trade; and as to the Pope, the Pope was a wretch and a bastard, a
liar and a bad man; he would stake wife and children and his own person to
be revenged on him.[260] An order of Council came out that the Pope
henceforward was to be styled only Bishop of Rome. Chapuys could not
understand it. The Duke, he thought, was strangely changed; he had once
professed to be a staunch Catholic. Norfolk had not changed. The peculiar
Anglican theory was beginning to show itself that a Church might still be
Catholic though it ceased to be Papal.

Irritated though he was at his last failure, Francis did not wholly
abandon his efforts. A successful invasion of England by the Emperor would
be dangerous or even fatal to France. He wrote to Anne. He sent his letter
by the hands of her old friend, Du Bellay, and she was so pleased that she
kissed him when he presented it. Du Bellay sought out Chapuys. "Could
nothing be done," he asked, "to prevent England from breaking with the
Papacy? Better England, France, and the Empire had spent a hundred
thousand crowns than allow a rupture. The Emperor had done his duty in
supporting his aunt; might he not now yield a little to avoid worse?"
Chapuys could give him no hope. The treatment of Catherine alone would
force the Emperor to take further measures.

That Catherine, so far, had no personal ill-usage to complain of had been
admitted by the Spanish Council, and alleged as an argument against
interference by force in her favour. Chapuys conceived, and probably
hoped, that this objection was being removed.

What to do with her was not the least of the perplexities in which Henry
had involved himself. By the public law of Christendom, a marriage with a
brother's widow was illegal. By the law as it has stood ever since in
England, the Pope of Rome neither has, nor ever had, a right to dispense
in such cases. She was not, therefore, Henry's queen. She deserved the
most indulgent consideration; her anger and her resistance were legitimate
and natural; but the fact remained. She had refused all compromise. She
had insisted on a decision, and an English Court had given judgment
against her. If she was queen, Elizabeth was a bastard, and her insistance
upon her title was an invitation to civil war. She was not standing alone.
The Princess Mary, on her father's marriage with Anne, had written him a
letter, which he had praised as greatly to her credit; but either Anne's
insolence or her mother's persuasion had taken her back to Catherine's
side. Her conduct may and does deserve the highest moral admiration; but
the fidelity of the child to her mother was the assertion of a right to be
next in succession to the crown. There was no longer a doubt that a
dangerous movement was on foot for an insurrection, supported from abroad.
If Catherine escaped with Mary to the Continent, war would instantly
follow. If there was a rebellion at home, their friends intended to
release them, and to use their names in the field. It was found necessary
again to part them. The danger would be diminished if they were separated;
together they confirmed each other's resolution. Catherine was sent to
Kimbolton with a reduced household--her confessor, her doctor, her own
personal servants and attendants--who had orders to call her Princess, but
obeyed as little as they pleased. Mary was attached to the establishment
of her baby sister Elizabeth under charge of Anne Boleyn's aunt, Mrs.
Shelton.

History with a universal voice condemns the King's conduct as cruel and
unnatural. It was not cruel in the sense of being wanton; it was not
unnatural in the sense that he had no feeling. He was in a dilemma,
through his own actions, from which he could not otherwise extricate
himself. Catherine was not his wife, and he knew it; he had been misled by
Wolsey into the expectation that the Pope would relieve him; he had been
trifled with and played upon; he was now threatened with excommunication
and deposition. Half his subjects, and those the boldest and most
determined, had rallied to his side; his cause had become the occasion of
a great and beneficent revolution, and incidental difficulties had to be
dealt with as they rose. Catherine he had long ceased to love, if love had
ever existed between them, but he respected her character and admired her
indomitable courage. For his daughter he had a real affection, as appeared
in a slight incident which occurred shortly after her removal. Elizabeth
was at Hatfield, and Mary, whose pride Anne had threatened to humble, was
with her. Mrs. Shelton's orders were to box Mary's ears if she presumed to
call herself Princess. The King knew nothing of these instructions. He had
found his daughter always dutiful except when under her mother's
influence, and one day he rode down to Hatfield to see her. The Lady Anne,
finding that he had gone without her knowledge, "considering the King's
easiness and lightness, if anyone dared to call it so," and afraid of the
effect which a meeting with his daughter might have upon him, sent some
one in pursuit to prevent him from seeing or speaking with her. The King
submitted to his imperious mistress, saw Anne's child, but did not see
Mary. She had heard of his arrival, and as he was mounting his horse to
ride back she showed herself on the leads, kneeling as if to ask his
blessing. The King saw her, bowed, lifted his bonnet, and silently went
his way.[261]

The French Ambassador met him afterwards in London. The King said he had
not spoken to his daughter on account of her Spanish obstinacy. The
Ambassador saying something in her favour, "tears rushed into the King's
eyes, and he praised her many virtues and accomplishments." "The Lady,"
said Chapuys, "is aware of the King's affection for his daughter, and
therefore never ceases to plot against her." The Earl of Northumberland,
once Anne's lover, told him that she meant to poison the Princess. Chapuys
had thought it might be better if she avoided irritating her father; he
advised her to protect herself by a secret protest, and to let her title
drop on condition that she might live with her mother. Lady Anne, however,
it was thought, would only be more malicious, and a show of yielding would
discourage her friends. Another plan was to carry her off abroad; but war
would then be inevitable, and Chapuys could not venture to recommend such
an attempt without the Emperor's express consent.[262]

Catherine also was, or professed to be, in fear of foul play. Kimbolton
was a small but not inconvenient residence. It was represented as a
prison. The King was supposed to be eager for her death; and in the
animosity of the time he, or at least his mistress, was thought capable of
any atrocity. The Queen was out of health in reality, having shown signs
of dropsy, and the physicians thought her life uncertain. She would eat
nothing which her new servants provided; the little food she took was
prepared by her chamberwoman, and her own room was used as a kitchen.[263]
Charles had intimated that, if she was ill-used, he might be driven to
interfere; and every evil rumour that was current was treasured up to
exasperate him into action. No words, Chapuys said in a letter to the
Emperor, could describe the grief which the King's conduct to the Queen
and Princess was creating in the English people. They complained bitterly
of the Emperor's inaction. They waited only for the arrival of a single
ship of war to rise _en masse_; and, if they had but a leader to take
command, they said, they would do the work themselves. They reminded him
of Warwick, who dethroned the King's grandfather, and Henry VII., who
dethroned Richard. Some even said the Emperor's right to the throne was
better than the present King's; for Edward's children were illegitimate,
and the Emperor was descended from the House of Lancaster. If the Emperor
would not move, at least he might stop the Flanders trade, and rebellion
would then be certain. There was not the least hope that the King would
submit. The accursed Anne had so bewitched him that he dared not oppose
her. The longer the Emperor delayed, the worse things would grow from the
rapid spread of Lutheranism.[264]

Wise sovereigns, under the strongest provocation, are slow to encourage
mutiny in neighbouring kingdoms. Charles had to check the overzeal of his
Ambassador, and to tell him that "the present was no time for vigorous
action or movement of any kind." Chapuys promised for the future "to
persuade the Queen to patience, and to do nothing which might lead to the
inconvenience" which the Emperor pointed out.[265] His impatient English
friends whom he called "the people" were still obliged to submit in
patience, while the King went on upon his way in the great business of the
realm, amidst the "impress of shipwrights," the "daily cast of cannon,"
and foreign mart of implements for war. An embassy was sent to Germany to
treat for an alliance with the Smalcaldic League. A book was issued, with
the authority of the Privy Council, on the authority of kings and priests,
showing that bishops and priests were equal, and that princes must rule
them both. The Scotch Ambassador told Chapuys that if such a book had been
published in his country the author of it would have been burnt.[266]
Parliament met to pass the Bill, of which Henry had introduced a draft in
the previous session, to restrict the Bishops' powers of punishing
heretics. Dr. Nixe, the old bishop of Norwich, had lately burnt Thomas
Bilney on his own authority, without waiting for the King's writ. Henry
had the Bishop arrested, tried him before a lay judge, confiscated his
property, and imprisoned him in the Tower. Parliament made such exploits
as that of Dr. Nixe impossible for the future.

Act followed Act on the same lines. The Pope's Bulls were dispensed with
on appointments to vacant sees. The King's nomination was to suffice. The
tributes to Rome, which had been levied hitherto in infinite variety of
form, were to be swept finally away, and with them an Act was introduced
of final separation from the Papacy. Were it only in defiance of the Pope,
Chapuys said, such measures impending would matter little, for the motive
was understood; but the Preachers were teaching Lutheranism in the
pulpits, drawing crowds to hear them, and, unless the root could be torn
out, the realm would be lost.

Before the closing stroke was dealt in England the last scene of the
tragi-comedy had to be played out in Rome itself. On the Pope's return
from Marseilles the thunderbolt was expected to fall. The faithful Du
Bellay rushed off to arrest the uplifted arm. He found Clement wrangling
as before with Cifuentes, and Cifuentes, in despair, considering that, if
justice would not move the Pope, other means would have to be found. The
English Acts of Parliament were not frightening Clement. To them he had
become used. But he knew by this time for certain that, if he deprived
Henry, the Emperor would do nothing. Why, said he, in quiet irony, to the
Emperor's Minister, does not your master proceed on the Brief _de
Attentatis_? It would be as useful to him as the sentence which he asks
for. By that the King has forfeited his throne. Cifuentes had to tell him,
what he himself was equally aware of, that it was not so held in England.
Until the main cause had been decided it was uncertain whether the
marriage with Anne Boleyn might not be lawful after all.[267] In one of
his varying moods the Pope had said at Marseilles that, if Henry had sent
a proctor to plead for him at Rome, sentence would have been given in his
favour.[268] It was doubtful whether even the Emperor was really
determined, so ambiguous had been his answers when he was asked if he
would execute the Bull. Du Bellay arrived in the midst of the suspense. He
had brought an earnest message from Francis, praying that judgment might
be stayed. As this was the last effort to prevent the separation of
England the particulars have a certain interest.

In an interview with the Pope Du Bellay said that when he left London he
believed that the rupture was inevitable. His own sovereign, however, had
sent him to represent to the Holy See that the King of England was on the
eve of forming a treaty with the Lutheran Princes. The King of France did
not pretend to an opinion on the right or wrong of his brother of
England's case; but he wished to warn his Holiness that means ought to be
found to prevent such an injury to the Church.

The Pope answered that he had thought long and painfully on what he ought
to do, and had delayed sentence as long as he was able. The Queen was
angry and accused him of having been the cause of all that had happened.
If the King of France had any further proposal to offer he was ready to
hear it. If not, the sentence must be pronounced.

Cifuentes, finding Clement again hesitating, pointed out to him the
violent acts which were being done in England, the encouragement of
heresy, the cruel treatment of the Queen and Princess, and the risk to the
Queen's life if nothing was done to help her. Clement sent for Du Bellay
again and inquired more particularly if he had brought no practical
suggestion with him. Du Bellay could only say that he had himself brought
none; but he trusted that the Pope might devise something, as, without it,
not England only but other countries would be irretrievably lost to the
Holy See. The Pope said he could think of nothing; and in his account of
what had passed to Cifuentes he declared that he had told Du Bellay that
he meant to proceed.

Cifuentes was not satisfied. He saw that the Pope was still reluctant. He
knew that there were intrigues among the Cardinals. He said that Henry was
only making use of France to intimidate him. He asserted, with the
deluding confidence which blinded the whole Catholic party, that the
revolt of England was the act of the King and not of the people. He was
certain, he said, that, although the Bishop pretended that he had no
expedient to propose, he had one which he dared not disclose. He could not
bring the Pope to a resolution. A further delay of six weeks was granted.
Messengers were despatched to England, and English Commissioners were sent
in answer. They had no concessions to offer, nor were any concessions
expected of them. They lingered on the way. The six weeks expired and they
had not arrived. The Spanish party in the Consistory were peremptory. They
satisfied the Pope's last scruples by assuring him, vaguely, that he might
rely upon the Emperor, and on March 23, with an outburst of general
enthusiasm, the Bull was issued which declared valid the marriage of Henry
and Catherine, the King to be excommunicated if he disobeyed, and to have
forfeited the allegiance of his subjects.

The secular arm was not yet called in, and, before Charles could be
required to move, one more step would still be needed. But essentially,
and on the main cause of the trouble, the Pope had at last spoken, and
spoken finally.[269] The passionate and devout Ortiz poured out on the
occasion the emotions of grateful Catholicity. "The Emperor," he wrote,
"had won the greatest of his victories--a victory over Hell. There had
been difficulties even to the last. Campeggio had opposed, but at last had
yielded to the truth. The Pope repented of his delay, but now feared he
had committed a great sin in hesitating so long. The holy martyr, the
Queen of England, had been saved. The Cardinals in past years had been
bribed by the French King; by the influence of the Holy Spirit they had
all decided in the Queen's favour. Their conscience told them they could
not vote against her."[270]

In England the news of the decision had not been waited for. Two days
after the issue of the Bull, the Act abolishing the Pope's authority was
read the last time in the House of Lords, to the regret, said Chapuys, of
a minority of good men, who could not carry the House along with them.




CHAPTER XV.

The Papal curse--Determined attitude of the Princess Mary--Chapuys desires
to be heard in Parliament--Interview with the King--Permission refused--
The Act of Succession--Catherine loses the title of Queen--More and Fisher
refuse to swear to the statute--Prospects of rebellion in Ireland--The
Emperor unwilling to interfere--Perplexity of the Catholic party--Chapuys
before the Privy Council--Insists on Catherine's rights--Singular defence
of the Pope's action--Chapuys's intrigues--Defiant attitude of Catherine--
Fears for her life--Condition of Europe--Prospect of war between France
and the Empire--Unwillingness of the Emperor to interfere in England--
Disappointment of Catherine--Visit of Chapuys to Kimbolton.


Pretenders to supernatural powers usually confine the display of their
skill to the presence of friends and believers. The exercise of such
powers to silence opponents or to convince incredulity may be alleged to
have existed in the past, or may be foretold as to happen in the future;
in the actual present prudent men are cautious of experiments which, if
they fail, bring them only into ridicule. Excommunication had real terrors
when a frightened world was willing to execute its penalties--when the
object of the censure was cut off from the services of religion and was
regarded as a pariah and an outlaw. The Princes of Europe had real cause
to fear the curse of the Pope when their own subjects might withdraw their
obedience and the Christian Powers were ready to take arms to coerce them.
But Clement knew that his own thunders would find no such support, and he
lacked the confidence of Dr. Ortiz that Heaven, if men failed, would
avenge its own wrongs. He had not been permitted even to invite the
Emperor formally to enforce the sentence which he had been compelled to
pronounce. Protestant Germany had been left unpunished in its heresy. The
curse had passed harmless over Luther and Luther's supporters. In England
he was assured that his authority was still believed in, and that the King
would be brought to judgment by his subjects. But there were no outward
signs of it. His Bulls could no longer be introduced there. His clergy
might at heart be loyal to him; but they had submitted to the Crown and
the Parliament. His name was struck out of the service-books, and the
business of life went on as if he had never spoken; the business of life,
and also the business of the Government: for, the Pope being disposed of,
the vital question of the succession to the Crown had still to be formally
arranged.

Since the Emperor would not act Chapuys had been feeling his way with the
Scotch. If James chose to assert himself, the Ambassador had promised him
the Emperor's support. "He might marry the Princess Mary, and the Emperor
would welcome the union of the crowns of Scotland and England."[271] Had
Mary submitted to her father, her claim to a place in the line of
inheritance would not have been taken from her, for she had been born
_bonâ fide parentum_ and in no reasonable sense could be held
illegitimate. But she had remained immoveable. In small things as well as
great she had been unnecessarily irritating. Her wardrobe had required
replenishing, and she had refused to receive anything which was not given
to her as Princess. Anne Boleyn accused her aunt of being too lenient,
Mrs. Shelton having refused to make herself the instrument of Anne's
violence. Chapuys feared the "accursed Lady" might be tempted into a more
detestable course. But, any way, the nation had broken with the Pope, and
Mary could not be left with the prospect of succeeding to the crown while
she denied the competency of the English Parliament and the English courts
of justice. A bill, therefore, was introduced to make the necessary
provisions, establishing the succession in the child, and future children,
of Anne.

Catherine could not yet believe that Parliament would assent. Parliament,
she thought, had never yet heard the truth. She directed Chapuys to apply
for permission to appear at the bar of the House of Lords and speak for
her and the Princess.

After the failure of the Nuncio with Convocation Chapuys had little hope
that he would be listened to; but Catherine insisted on his making the
attempt, since a refusal, she thought, would be construed into an
admission of her right.

The Ambassador wrote to the Council. They desired to know what he proposed
to say, and he was allowed a private interview with the Duke of Norfolk.
He told the Duke that he wished merely to give a history of the divorce
case and would say nothing to irritate. The Duke said he would speak to
the King; but the Emperor, considering all that the King had done for him,
had not treated him well; they would sooner he had gone to war at once
than crossed and thwarted them at so many turns. Chapuys protested that
war had never been thought of, and it was arranged that he should see the
King and himself present his request. Before he entered the presence
Norfolk warned him to be careful of his words, as he was to speak on
matters so odious and unpleasing that all the sugars and sauces in the
world could not make them palatable. The King, however, was gracious.
Chapuys boldly entered on the treatment of the Queen and Princess. He had
heard, he said, that the subject was to be laid before Parliament, and he
desired to present his remonstrances to the Lords and Commons themselves.

The King replied civilly that, as Chapuys must be aware, his first
marriage had been judicially declared null; the Lady Catherine, therefore,
could not any longer be called queen, nor the Lady Mary his legitimate
daughter. As to Chapuys's request, it was not the custom in England for
strangers to speak in Parliament.

Chapuys urged that the Archbishop's sentence was worth no more than the
Bishop of Bath's sentence illegitimatising the children of Edward IV.
Parliament would, no doubt, vote as the King pleased; but, as to custom,
no such occasion had ever arisen before, and Parliament was not competent
to decide questions which belonged only to spiritual judges. The Princess
was indisputably legitimate, as at the time of her birth no doubt existed
on the lawfulness of her mother's marriage.

This was a sound argument, and Henry seemed to admit the force of it. But
he said that neither pope nor princes had a right to interfere with the
laws and institutions of England. Secular judges were perfectly well able
to deal with matrimonial causes. The Princess Elizabeth was next in
succession till a son was born to him. That son he soon hoped to have. In
short, he declined to allow Chapuys to make a speech in the House of
Lords; so Chapuys dropped the subject, and interceded for permission to
the Princess Mary to reside with her mother. He said frankly that, if harm
came to her while in the charge of her present governess, the world would
not be satisfied. Of course he knew that for all the gold in the world the
King would not injure his daughter; but, even if she died of an ordinary
illness, suspicions would be entertained of foul play. With real courage
Chapuys reminded Henry that the knights who killed Becket had been
encouraged by the knowledge that the king was displeased with him. The
enemies of the Princess, perceiving that she was out of favour, and aware
of the hatred[272] felt for her by the Lady Anne, might be similarly
tempted to make away with her while she was in Mrs. Shelton's charge.

If Chapuys really used this language (and the account of it is his own),
Henry VIII. was more forbearing than history has represented him. He
turned the subject, and complained, as Norfolk had done, of the Emperor's
ingratitude. Chapuys said he had nothing to fear from the Emperor, unless
he gave occasion for it. He smiled sardonically, and replied that, if he
had been vindictive, there had been occasions when he could have revenged
himself. It was enough, however, if the world knew how injured he had
been. He then closed the conversation, dismissed his visitor, and told him
he must be satisfied with the patience with which he had been heard.[273]

The Bill for the settlement of the crown was thus discussed without
Chapuys's assistance. The terms of it and the reasons for it are familiar
to all readers of English history. The King's efforts to obtain an heir
male had, so far, only complicated an already dangerous problem. Though
the marriage with Catherine had been set aside in an English court, the
right of such a Court to pronounce upon it was not yet familiar to the
nation generally. The Pope had given an opposite sentence: many of the
peers and commons, the Duke of Norfolk among them, though reconciled to
the divorce, had not yet made up their minds to schism;[274] and Mary had
still many friends who were otherwise loyal to her father. But, after the
experience of the last century, Englishmen of all persuasions were
frightened at the prospect of a disputed succession, which only a
peremptory Act of Parliament could effectively dispose of. The Bill,
therefore, passed at last with little opposition. Cranmer's judgment was
confirmed as against the Pope's. The marriage with Catherine was declared
null, the marriage with Anne valid, and Anne's children the lawful heirs
of the crown. The Act alone was not enough. The disclosures brought to
light in the affair of the Nun of Kent, the disaffection then revealed,
and the rank of the persons implicated in it, necessitated further
precautions. Any doubt which might have existed on the extent and
character of the conspiracy is removed for ever by the Spanish
Ambassador's letters. The Pope was threatening to absolve English subjects
from their allegiance; how far he might be able to influence their minds
had as yet to be seen; a Commission, therefore, was appointed to require
and receive the oaths of all persons whom there was reason to suspect,
that they would maintain the succession as determined in the Act.

The sentence from Rome had not arrived when the Bill became law, and no
action was taken upon it till the terms in which Clement had spoken were
specifically known. Catherine, however, seemed to think that the further
she could provoke Henry to harsh measures, the nearer would be her own
deliverance. She had always persuaded herself that judgment once given at
Rome for her, the King would yield. The Act of Succession was thus
specially galling, and with the same violent unwisdom which she had shown
from the first, and against the direct advice of Chapuys, she had decided
that the time was come for Mary "to show her teeth to the King."[275]

It was not for her to expose her daughter to perils which she professed to
believe were threatening the lives of both of them. But Mary obeyed her
but too well. While the Succession Bill was before the two Houses, Anne,
probably at Henry's instance, went to Hatfield to invite her to receive
her as Queen, promising, if she complied, that she should be treated
better than she had ever been. Mary's answer was that she knew no Queen
but her mother; if the King's mistress, so she designated Anne, would
intercede with her father for her she would be grateful. The Lady, Chapuys
heard, had said in a rage that she would put down that proud Spanish blood
and do her worst with her. Nor was this all. The determined girl refused
to be included in Elizabeth's household, or pay her the respect attaching
to her birth. Elizabeth soon after being removed from Hatfield to the
More, Mary declined to go with her, and obliged the gentlemen in
attendance to place her by force in Mrs. Shelton's litter. The Ambassador
felt the folly of such ineffectual resistance. Never, he said, would he
have advised her to run such a risk of exasperating the King, while the
Lady Anne was never ceasing day or night to injure her. His own advice had
been that when violence was threatened she should yield; but he had been
overruled by Catherine.[276]

Chapuys's intercourse with the Court was now restricted. He was received
when he applied for a formal interview; but for his information on what
was passing there, he was left to secret friends or to his diplomatic
colleagues. He asked the French Ambassador how the King took the Pope's
sentence. The ambassador said the King did not care in the least, which
Chapuys was unable to believe. The action of the Parliament alarmed and
shocked him. Among the hardest blows was the taking from the Bishops the
powers of punishing heretics--a violation, as it appeared to him, of
common right and the constitution of the realm. The sharp treatment of
Bishop Nixe he regarded as an outrage and a crime. The Easter preachers
were ordered to denounce the Pope in their sermons. Chapuys shuddered at
their language. "They surpassed themselves in the abominations which they
uttered." Worse than sermons followed. On the arrival of the "sentence,"
the Commission began its work in requiring the oath to the Succession Act.
Those whose names had been compromised in the revelation of the Nun were
naturally the first to be put to the test. Fisher, who had been found
guilty of misprision of treason, had so far been left unpunished. It is
uncertain whether the Government was aware of his communications with
Chapuys, but enough was known to justify suspicion. The oath was offered
him. He refused to take it, and he was committed to the Tower in earnest.
He had been sentenced to imprisonment before, but had been so far left at
liberty. Sir Thomas More might have been let alone, for there was no fear
that he would lend himself to active treason. He, too, however, was
required to swear, and declined, and followed Fisher to the same place.
The Pope had declared war against the King, and his adherents had become
the King's enemies. Chapuys himself was suspected. His encouragement of
disaffection could not have been wholly concealed. He believed that his
despatches had been opened in Calais, and that Cromwell had read them.
There had been a Scotch war. As the Emperor was disinclined to stir,
Chapuys had looked on James as a possibly useful instrument in disturbing
Henry's peace. A Scottish Commission was in London to arrange a treaty,
"as they had found England too strong for them alone." The Ambassador,
more eager than ever, tried his best to dissuade the Chief Commissioner
from agreeing to terms, pointing out the condition of the kingdom and the
advantage to Scotland in joining in an attack on the King. The Scotchman
listened, and promised to be secret. Chapuys assured him of the Emperor's
gratitude,[277] and, though the treaty was concluded, he consoled the
Ambassador by saying "that the peace would not prevent his master from
waging war on the English. Pleas in plenty could easily be found."[278]

Ireland was a yet more promising field of operations. On the first rumour
of the divorce the Earl of Desmond had offered his services to the
Emperor. Chapuys discovered a more promising champion of the Church in
Lord Thomas Fitzgerald, whom he described as "a youth of high promise."
If the Pope would send the censures to Dublin, he undertook that Lord
Thomas would publish them, and would be found a useful friend.

Again, in spite of refusal, he urged the Emperor to take action himself.
Harm, he said, would befall the Queen and Princess, if there was longer
delay; Mrs. Shelton had told Mary that she would lose her head if she
persisted in disobedience; the people loved them well, but were afraid to
move without support. The Lutherans were increasing, and would soon be
dangerously strong. The present was the time to act. The King thought he
could hold the recusants down by obliging them to swear to his statute;
but if the chance was allowed, they would show their real minds.[279]

One difficulty remained in the way of action. The Pope, though he had
given judgment, had not yet called in the secular arm which was supposed
to be necessary as a preliminary, and all parties, save Catherine and her
passionate advisers, were unwilling that a step should be taken from which
there would be no returning. The Emperor did not wish it. Francis,
irritated at the refusal to listen to Du Bellay, told the Pope that he was
throwing England away. "The Pope," wrote the Cardinal of Jaen to Secretary
Covos, "is restive. If we push him too hard he may go over to the
enemy."[280] Charles ordered Cifuentes to keep strictly to his
instructions. The evident hesitation amused and encouraged the English
Cabinet. "Which Pope do you mean?" said the Duke of Norfolk to the Scotch
Ambassador, who had spoken of Clement as an arbiter on some point in
dispute, "the Pope of Rome or the Pope of Lambeth?" Henry, finding Francis
had not wholly deserted him, "praised God" at a public dinner for having
given him so good a brother in the King of France.

Under these circumstances, the Catholic party in England were alarmed and
perplexed. Catherine had been undeceived at last in her expectation that
the King would submit when the Pope had spoken. She informed Chapuys that
she now _saw it was necessary to use stronger remedies_. What these
remedies should be Chapuys said she dared not write, lest her letters
should be intercepted. She was aware, too, that the Emperor knew best what
should be done. Something must be tried, however, and speedily; for the
King was acting vigorously, and to wait would be to be lost. A startling
difference of opinion also was beginning to show itself even among the
Queen's friends. Some might turn round, Chapuys said, as they feared the
Emperor, in _helping her, would set up again the Pope's authority, which
they called tyrannical_. It was the alarm at this which enabled the King
to hold his subjects together.[281]

Though Mary had "shown her teeth" at her mother's bidding, she had not
provoked her father to further severities. He asked Mrs. Shelton if her
pride was subdued. Mrs. Shelton saying there were no signs of it, he
ordered that she should be more kindly treated; and he sent her a message
that, if she was obedient, he would find some royal marriage for her. She
answered that God had not so blinded her that she should confess that her
father and mother had lived in adultery. The words, perhaps, lost nothing
in the repeating; but the King said, and said rightly, that it was her
mother's influence. Catherine had persuaded her that his kindness was
treachery, and that there was a purpose to poison her.[282]

A serious question, however, had risen about the Statute of Succession.
The oath had been universally taken by everyone to whom it had been
offered save More and Fisher. The reason for demanding it was the
notorious intention of the Catholic party to take arms in Catherine's and
Mary's interests. Were others to be sworn, and were the two ladies chiefly
concerned to be exempted? Catherine, in ceasing to be queen, might be held
to have recovered her rights as a foreigner. But she had remained in
England by her own wish, and at the desire of the Emperor, to assist in
fighting out the battle. Mary was undoubtedly a subject, and Catherine and
she had both intimated that if the oath was demanded of them they would
not take it. The Peers and Bishops were called together to consider the
matter, and, as Catherine was a Spanish Princess, Chapuys was invited to
attend.

The council-room was thronged. The Ambassador was introduced, and a copy
of the statute was placed before him. He was informed that English
subjects generally had voluntarily sworn to obey it. Two ladies only,
Madam Catherine and Madam Mary, had declined, and the pains and penalties
were pointed out to him which they might incur if they persisted.

Chapuys had been refused an opportunity of speaking his opinion in
Parliament. It was now spontaneously offered him. He might, if he had
pleased, have denounced the hardship of compelling the Queen and her
daughter to assent personally to a statute which took their rights from
them. The preamble declared the King's marriage with Catherine to have
been invalid, and in swearing to the Act of Succession she would be
abandoning her entire plea. There was no intention, however, of forcing
the oath upon the mother. Mary was the person aimed at; and Mary might
have been spared also, if she had not "shewn her teeth" so plainly.
Chapuys, however, spoke out boldly on the whole question. The King, he
said, could not deprive the Princess of her place as heir to the crown,
nor was the English Parliament competent to decide as to the validity of a
marriage. The preamble of the statute was a lie. He would have proved it
had he been permitted to speak there. People had sworn because they were
afraid, and did not wish to be martyrs; and the oath being imposed by
force, they knew that it could be no more binding than the oaths which he
had lately taken to the Pope had bound the Archbishop of Canterbury. For a
general answer, he produced the Pope's sentence. The obstinacy which they
complained of, he said, was in them, and not in the ladies. He could not
persuade the ladies to swear; if he could, he would not, unless under
orders from the Emperor; and he warned the Council that if they tried
further violence they must be prepared to find the Emperor and Ferdinand
their open enemies; the Emperor regarded the Queen as his mother, and the
Princess as his sister; and, though he allowed that he was speaking
without instructions, he intimated distinctly that the Emperor would not
fail to protect them, and protect the cause of the Church, which had been
intertwined with theirs.

Chapuys was bold, bolder perhaps than the Council had expected. The Bishop
of Durham rose after a short pause. He had been Catherine's advocate,
and, as Chapuys said, was one of the most learned and honest prelates in
the realm. But he, too, had come to see that the cause now at issue was
the independence of England. He said that the statute had been well
considered. It had been passed for the quiet of the realm, and must be
obeyed. On Chapuys rejoining that the quiet of the realm required the
King's return to his wife, Tunstall mentioned the promises which had been
made at the beginning of the suit, and produced the decretal which the
Pope had given at Orvieto, declaring the marriage with Catherine invalid.
Chapuys, in his answer, admitted, unconsciously, the justice of the
English plea. He said the decretal had been issued when the Pope had just
escaped from St. Angelo, and was angry and exasperated against the
Emperor. As to other promises, he might or might not have made them. If he
said he would give judgment in the King's favour, he might have meant
merely such a judgment as would be good for the King; or perhaps he was
doing as criminal judges often did--holding out hopes to prisoners to
tempt confessions from them. Such practices were legitimate and laudable.

The English argument was that a judge such as Chapuys described was not to
be trusted with English suits. Henry himself could not have put the case
more effectively. The Bishop of London spoke, and the Archbishop of York,
and then Sampson (the Dean of the Chapel Royal), who affirmed bluntly that
the Pope had no inherent rights over England. Man had given him his
authority, and man might take it from him. Chapuys replied that the King
had found it established when he came to the throne, and had himself
recognised it in referring his cause to the Pope. Cranmer was present,
but took no direct part. He brought out, however, the true issue, by
suggesting, through Tunstall, that the Pope had incapacitated himself by
submitting to be controlled by the Emperor. This was the point of the
matter. To allow an English suit to be decided by Charles V. was to make
England a vassal state of the Empire. To this Chapuys had no valid answer,
for none could be given; and he discreetly turned the argument by
reflecting on the unfitness of Cranmer also.

So far the laymen on the Council had left the discussion to the Bishops,
and the Ambassador thought that he had the best of it. The Duke of
Norfolk, he imagined, thought so too; for the Duke rose after the taunts
at the Archbishop. The King's second marriage, he said, was a _fait
accompli_, and to argue further over it was loss of time. They had passed
their statute, and he, for one, would maintain it to the last drop of his
blood. To refuse obedience was high treason; and, the fact being so, the
ladies must submit to the law. The King himself could not disobey an Act
which concerned the tranquillity of the realm.

Chapuys would not yield. He said their laws were like the laws of
Mahomet--laws of the sword--being so far worse, that Mahomet did not make
his subjects swear to them. Not with entire honesty--for he knew now that
Catherine had consented to the use of force--he added, that they could
have small confidence in their own strength if they were afraid of two
poor weak women, who had neither means nor will to trouble them.

The Council said that they would report to the King, and so the
conversation ended. Chapuys spoke afterwards privately to Cromwell. He
renewed his warning that, if violence was used, there would be real
danger. Cromwell said he would do his best. But there was a general fear
that something harsh would be tried at the instigation of the "accursed
Concubine." Probably the question would be submitted to Parliament, or as
some thought the Queen and Princess would be sent to the Tower.[283]
Conceiving extremities to be close, Chapuys asked the Scotch Ambassador
whether, if a mandate came from the Pope against England, the Scots would
obey it. Certainly they would obey it, was the answer, though they might
pretend to regret the necessity.

Violence such as Chapuys anticipated was not in contemplation. The opinion
of Europe would have been outraged, if there had been no more genuine
reason for moderation. An appeal was tried on Catherine herself. The
Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Durham, both of whom had been her
friends, went down to her to explain the nature of the statute and
persuade her to obedience. Two accounts remain of the interview--that of
the Bishops, and another supplied to Chapuys by the Queen's friends. The
Bishops said that she was in great choler and agony, interrupted them with
violent speeches, declared that she was the King's lawful wife, that
between her and Prince Arthur there had been never more than a formal
connection. The Pope had declared for her. The Archbishop of Canterbury
was a shadow. The Acts of Parliament did not concern her.[284] Chapuys's
story is not very different, though two elderly prelates, once her staunch
supporters, could hardly have been as brutal as he describes. After
various rough speeches, he said that the Bishops not only referred to the
penalties of the statute (they themselves admitted this) but told her that
if she persisted she might be put to death. She had answered that if any
of them had a warrant to execute her they might do it at once. She begged
only that the ceremony should be public, in the face of the people, and
that she might not be murdered in her room.[285]

The mission had been rather to advise than to exact, and special demands
were rather made on Catherine's side than the King's. Not only she would
not swear herself to the statute, but she insisted that her household
should be exempted also. She required a confessor, chaplains, physician,
men-servants, as many women as the King would allow, and they were to take
no oath save to the King and to her. Henry made less difficulty than might
have been looked for--less than he would have been entitled to make had he
known to what purpose these attendants would be used. The oath was for his
native subjects; it was not exacted from herself, or by implication from
her confessor, who was a Spaniard, or from her foreign servants.[286] If
she would be reasonable he said that some of her requests might be
granted. She might order her household as she pleased, if they would swear
fidelity to him, and to herself as Princess Dowager. But he could not
allow them to be sworn to her as Queen.

Chapuys's business was to make the worst of the story to the Emperor. The
Court was at Richmond. Chapuys went thither, presented a complaint to the
Council, and demanded an interview with the King. Henry would not see him,
but sent him a message that he would inquire into what had passed, and
would send him an answer. Chapuys, who had been for two years urging war
in vain, exaggerated the new injuries. Others, and perhaps he himself,
really believed the Queen's life to be in danger. "Every one," he wrote,
after describing what had taken place, "fears that mischief will now
befall her; the concubine has said she will never rest till she is put out
of the way. It is monstrous and almost incredible, yet such is the King's
obstinacy, and the wickedness of this accursed woman, that everything may
be apprehended."[287] Anne, it is likely, was really dangerous. The King,
so far as can be outwardly traced, was making the best of an unpleasant
situation. The Council promised Chapuys that his remonstrances should be
attended to. The Queen was left to herself, with no more petty
persecutions, to manage her household in her own way. They might swear or
not swear as pleased themselves and her; and with passionate loyalty they
remained devoted to her service, assisting her in the conduct of a
correspondence which every day became more dangerous.

The European sky meanwhile was blackening with coming storms. Francis had
not forgotten Pavia, and as little could allow England to be conquered by
Charles as Charles could allow France to be bribed by the promise of
Calais. His Agents continued busy at Rome keeping a hand on the Pope; a
fresh interview was proposed between the French King and Henry, who was to
meet him at Calais again in the summer; and an aggressive Anglo-French
alliance was a possibility which the Emperor had still to fear. He had
small confidence in the representations of Chapuys, and had brought
himself to hope that by smooth measures Henry might still be recovered. A
joint embassy might be sent to England from himself and the Pope to
remonstrate on the schism. If nothing else came of it, their own position
would be set right before the world and in the eyes of English opinion.
Clement, however, now made difficulties, and had no desire to help Charles
out of his embarrassments. Charles had forced a judgment out of him
without promising to execute it. Charles might now realise the
inconvenience of having driven him on against his own inclination.
Cifuentes had again received instructions to delay the issue of the Brief
of Execution, or the calling in the secular arm. The Pope felt that he had
been made use of and had been cheated, and was naturally resentful.
Cifuentes made his proposal. Clement, "with the placid manner which he
generally showed when a subject was disagreeable to him,... said that the
embassy might go if the Emperor wished.... It would not be of the
slightest use ... but it might do no harm. He must, of course, however,
first consult the King of France." Cifuentes not liking the mention of
France, the Pope went on maliciously to say that, if he had not gone to
Marseilles, France would certainly have broken with the Church, as England
had done, and would have set up a Patriarchate of its own. Indeed he was
afraid it might yet come to that. The King of France had told him how he
had been pressed to consent, and had made a merit of refusing. Cifuentes
could but remark on the singular character of the King of France's
religious convictions.[288]

The embassy was not sent to England, and the Pope kept back his invocation
of the secular arm till a Prince could be found who would act. No one
would be the first to move, and the meeting of the two Kings at Calais was
indefinitely postponed. Francis complained of Henry's arbitrary manner,
"speaking to me at times as if I were his subject." The explanation given
to the world of the abandonment of the interview was that Henry found it
inconvenient to leave the realm. A letter of Chapuys explains where the
special inconvenience lay. The Lady Anne would be Regent in his absence,
and could not be trusted in her present humour. "I have received word from
a trustworthy source," he wrote on the 23d of June to the Emperor, "that
the concubine has said more than once, and with great assurance, that the
moment the King crosses the Channel to the interview, and she is left
Regent, she will put the Princess to death by sword or otherwise. Her
brother, Lord Rochford, telling her she would offend the King, she
answered she cared not if she did. She would do it if she was burnt or
flayed alive afterwards. The Princess knows her danger, but it gives her
no concern. She puts her trust in God."

Imperfect credit must be given to stories set current by malicious
credulity. But the existence of such stories shows the reputation which
Anne had earned for herself, and which in part she deserves. Chapuys
reiterated his warnings.

"Pardon my importunity," he continued, "but, unless your Majesty looks
promptly to it, things will be past remedy. Lutheranism spreads fast, and
the King calculates that it will make the people stand by him and will
gain the Germans. So long as danger is not feared from without, Parliament
will agree to all that he wishes. Were your Majesty even to overlook all
that he has done, he would persist in the same way. Good Catholics are of
opinion that the readiest way to bridle France and Germany is to begin in
England. It can be done with ease. The people only wait for your Majesty
to give the signal."[289]

The inaction of the Emperor was incomprehensible to Catherine's friends.
To herself it was distracting. She had fed upon the hope that when the
Pope had given judgment her trial would be at an end; that the voice of
Catholic Europe would compel the King to submit. The Roman lightning had
flashed, but the thunderbolt had not fallen. The English laity, long
waiting in suspense, had begun to think, as Chapuys feared they would,
that the Pope was the shadow, and Cranmer the substance. Cut off from the
world, she thought she was forsaken, or that the Emperor's care for her
would not carry him to the point of interference. If no voice was raised
in her favour in her own Spain, the Spanish Ambassador might at least show
that her countrymen had not forgotten her. She sent pressing messages to
Chapuys, begging him to visit her; and Chapuys, impatient himself of his
master's hesitating policy, resolved to go. He applied for permission to
the Council. It was refused. But the Council could not forbid his making a
summer pilgrimage to our Lady of Walsingham, and the road lay near
Kimbolton. He wrote to Cromwell that, leave or no leave, he was going into
Norfolk, and meant to call there. The porters might refuse him entrance if
they pleased. He gave him fair notice. It should not be said that he had
acted underhand.

It was the middle of July. Making as much display as possible, with a
retinue of sixty horse, and accompanied by a party of Spaniards resident
in London, the Ambassador rode ostentatiously through the City, and
started on the great North Road. Spending a night on the way, he arrived
on the second evening within a few miles of Catherine's residence. At this
point he was overtaken by two gentlemen of the household, with an
intimation that he would not be admitted. He demanded to see their orders,
and, the orders not being produced, he said that, being so near the end of
his journey, he did not mean to turn back. He would have persisted, but a
message came to him from the Queen herself, or from one of her people, to
say that she could not receive him; he could proceed to Walsingham if he
pleased, but he must not approach within bowshot of the Castle. Some
peremptory command must have reached her. A second secret message
followed, that, although she had not dared to say so, she was grateful for
his visit; and, though he must not come on himself, a party of his suite
might show themselves before the gates.

Thus the next morning, under the bright July sky, a picturesque Spanish
cavalcade was seen parading under the windows of Kimbolton, "to the great
consolation of the ladies of the household, who spoke to them from the
battlements; and with astonishment and joy among the peasantry, as if the
Messiah had actually come." The Walsingham pilgrimage was abandoned, lest
it should be thought to have been the real object of the journey; and
Chapuys, with polite irony, sent the King word that he had relinquished it
in deference to his Majesty's wishes. He returned to London by another
road, to make a wider impression upon the people.

"The Emperor," he said, in relating his expedition, "would now see how
matters stood. The Queen might be almost called the King's prisoner. The
house," he said, "was well kept and well found, though there were
complaints of shortness of provisions. She had five or six servants, and
as many ladies-in-waiting, besides the men whom she looked on as her
guards."[290]




CHAPTER XVI.

Prosecution of Lord Dacre--Failure of the Crown--Rebellion in Ireland--
Lord Thomas Fitzgerald--Delight of the Catholic party--Preparations for a
rising in England--The Princess Mary--Lord Hussey and Lord Darcy--Schemes
for insurrection submitted to Chapuys--General disaffection among the
English Peers--Death of Clement VII.--Election of Paul III.--Expectation
at Rome that Henry would now submit--The expectation disappointed--The Act
of Supremacy--The Italian conjuror--Reginald Pole--Violence and insolence
of Anne Boleyn--Spread of Lutheranism--Intended escape of the Princess
Mary out of England.


The English Peers are supposed to have been the servile instruments of
Henry VIII.'s tyrannies and caprices, to have been ready to divorce or
murder a wife, or to execute a bishop, as it might please the King to
command. They were about to show that there were limits to their
obedience, and that when they saw occasion they could assert their
independence. Lord Dacre of Naworth was one of the most powerful of the
northern nobles. He had distinguished himself as a supporter of Queen
Catherine, and was particularly detested by the Lady Anne. His name
appears prominently in the lists supplied to Chapuys of those who could be
counted upon in the event of a rising. The Government had good reason,
therefore, to watch him with anxiety. As Warden of the Marches he had been
in constant contact with the Scots, and a Scotch invasion in execution of
the Papal censures had been part of Chapuys's scheme. Dacre was suspected
of underhand dealings with the Scots. He had been indicted at Carlisle
for treason in June, and had been sent to London for trial. He was brought
to the bar before the Peers, assisted by the twelve Judges. An escape of a
prisoner was rare when the Crown prosecuted; the Privy Council prepared
the evidence, drew up their case, and in bringing a man to the bar made
themselves responsible for the charge; failure, therefore, was equivalent
to a vote of censure. The prosecution of Dacre had been set on foot by
Cromwell, who had perhaps been informed of particulars of his conduct
which it was undesirable to bring forward. The Peers looked on Cromwell as
another Wolsey--as another intruding commoner who was taking liberties
with the ancient blood. The Lady Anne was supposed to have borne malice
against Dacre. The Lady Anne was to be made to know that there were limits
to her power. Dacre spoke for seven hours to a sympathetic court; he was
unanimously acquitted, and the City of London celebrated his escape with
bonfires and illuminations. The Court had received a sharp rebuff.
Norfolk, who sate as High Steward, had to accept a verdict of which he
alone disapproved.[291] At Rome the acquittal was regarded as perhaps the
beginning of some commotion with which God was preparing to punish the
King of England.[292]

More serious news arrived from Ireland. While the English Catholics were
muttering discontent and waiting for foreign help, Lord Thomas Fitzgerald,
"the youth of promise" whom Chapuys had recommended to Charles's notice,
had broken into open rebellion, and had forsworn his allegiance to Henry
as an excommunicated sovereign. Fitzgerald was a ferocious savage, but his
crimes were committed in the name of religion. In my history of this
rebellion I connected it with the sacred cause of More and Fisher, and was
severely rebuked for my alleged unfairness. The fresh particulars here to
be mentioned prove that I was entirely right, that the rising in Ireland
was encouraged by the same means, was part of the same conspiracy, that it
was regarded at Rome and by the Papal party everywhere as the first blow
struck in a holy war.

It commenced with the murder of the Archbishop of Dublin, a feeble old
man, who was dragged out of his bed and slaughtered by Fitzgerald's own
hand. It spread rapidly through the English Pale, and Chapuys recorded its
progress with delight. The English had been caught unprepared.
Skeffington, the Deputy, was a fool. Ireland, in Chapuys's opinion, was
practically recovered to the Holy See, and with the smallest assistance
from the Emperor and the Pope the heretics and all their works would be
made an end of there.[293]

A fortnight later he wrote still more enthusiastically. Kildare's son was
absolute master of the island. He had driven the King to ask for terms; he
had refused to listen, and was then everywhere expelling the English or
else killing them.

The pleasure felt by all worthy people, Chapuys said, was incredible. Such
a turn of events was a good beginning for a settlement in England, and the
Catholic party desired his Majesty most passionately not to lose the
opportunity. On all sides the Ambassador was besieged with entreaties. "An
excellent nobleman had met him by appointment in the country, and had
assured him solemnly that the least move on the Emperor's part would end
the matter." The Irish example had "fired all their hearts. They were
longing to follow it."

As this intelligence might fail to rouse Charles, the Ambassador again
added as a further reason for haste that the Queen and Princess were in
danger of losing their lives. Cromwell had been heard to say that their
deaths would end all quarrels. Lord Wiltshire had said the same, and the
fear was that when Parliament reassembled the ladies might be brought to
trial under the statute.[294]

If Cromwell and Lord Wiltshire used the words ascribed to them, no evil
purpose need have been implied or intended. Catherine was a confirmed
invalid; the Princess Mary had just been attacked with an alarming
illness. Chapuys had dissuaded Mary at last from making fresh quarrels
with her governess; she had submitted to the indignities of her situation
with reluctant patience, and had followed unresistingly in the various
removals of Elizabeth's establishment. The irritation, however, had told
on her health, and at the time of Chapuys's conversation with the
"excellent nobleman" her life was supposed to be in danger from ordinary
causes. That Anne wished her dead was natural enough; Anne had recently
been again disappointed, and had disappointed the King in the central wish
of his heart. She had said she was _enceinte_, but the signs had passed
off. It was rumoured that Henry's feelings were cooling towards her. He
had answered, so Court scandal said, to some imperious message of hers
that she ought to be satisfied with what he had done for her; were things
to begin again he would not do as much. Report said also that there were
_nouvelles amours_; but, as the alleged object of the King's attention was
a lady devoted to Queen Catherine, the _amour_ was probably innocent. The
Ambassador built little upon this; Anne's will to injure the Princess he
knew to be boundless, and he believed her power over Henry still to be
great. Mary herself had sent him word that she had discovered practices
for her destruction.

Any peril to which she might be exposed would approach her, as Chapuys was
obliged to confess, from one side only. He ascertained that "when certain
members of the Council had advised harsh measures to please the Lady
Anne," the King had told them that he would never consent, and no one at
the Court--neither the Lady nor any other person--dared speak against the
Princess. "The King loved her," so Cromwell said, "a hundred times more
than his latest born." The notion that the statute was to be enforced
against her life was a chimera of malice. In her illness he showed the
deepest anxiety; he sent his own physician to attend on her, and he sent
for her mother's physician from Kimbolton. Chapuys admitted that he was
naturally kind--"d'aymable et cordiale nature"--that his daughter's death
would be a serious blow to himself, however welcome to Anne and to
politicians, and that, beyond his natural feeling, he was conscious that,
occurring under the present circumstances, it would be a stain on his
reputation.

More than once Henry had interfered for Mary's protection. He had perhaps
heard of what Anne had threatened to do to her on his proposed journey to
Calais. She had been the occasion, at any rate, of sharp differences
between them. He had resented, when he discovered it, the manner in which
she had been dragged to the More, and had allowed her, when staying there,
to be publicly visited by the ladies and gentlemen of the court, to the
Lady's great annoyance. Nay, Mary had been permitted to refuse to leave
her room when Anne had sent for her, and the strictest orders had been
given through Cromwell that anyone who treated her disrespectfully should
be severely punished.[295]

True as all this might be, however, Chapuys's feelings towards the King
were not altered, his fears diminished, or his desire less eager to bring
about a rebellion and a revolution. Lord Thomas Fitzgerald's performances
in Ireland were spurring into energy the disaffected in England. The
nobleman to whom Chapuys had referred was Lord Hussey of Lincolnshire, who
had been Chamberlain to the Princess Mary when she had an establishment of
her own as next in succession to the crown. Lord Hussey was a dear friend
of her mother's. Having opened the ground he again visited the Ambassador
"in utmost secrecy." He told him that he and all the honest men in the
realm were much discouraged by the Emperor's delay to set things straight,
as it was a thing which could so easily be done. The lives of the Queen
and Princess were undoubtedly threatened; their cause was God's cause,
which the Emperor was bound to uphold, and the English people looked to
him as their natural sovereign. Chapuys replied that if the Emperor was to
do as Lord Hussey desired, he feared that an invasion of England would
cause much hurt and suffering to many innocent people. Lord Hussey was
reputed a wise man. Chapuys asked him what would he do himself if he were
in the Emperor's place. Lord Hussey answered that the state of England was
as well known to Chapuys as to himself. Almost everyone was looking for
help to the Emperor. There was no fear of his injuring the people; their
indignation was so great that there would be no resistance. The war would
be over as soon as it was begun. The details, he said, Lord Darcy would
explain better than he could do. The Emperor should first issue a
declaration. The people would then take arms, and would be joined by the
nobles and the clergy.

Fisher had used the same language. Fisher was in the Tower, and no longer
accessible. Lord Darcy of Templehurst has been already seen in drawing the
indictment against Wolsey. He was an old crusader; he had served under
Ferdinand and Isabella, was a Spaniard in sympathy, and was able, as he
represented, to bring eight thousand men into the field from the northern
counties. On Lord Hussey's recommendation Chapuys sent a confidential
servant to Darcy, who professed himself as zealous as his friend. Darcy
said that he was as loyal as any man, but things were going on so
outrageously, especially in matters of religion, that he, for one, could
not bear it longer. In the north there were six hundred lords and
gentlemen who thought as he did. Measures were about to be taken in
Parliament to favour the Lutherans. He was going himself into Yorkshire,
where he intended to commence an opposition. If the Emperor would help him
he would take the field behind the crucifix, and would raise the banner of
Castile. Measures might be concerted with the Scots; a Scotch army might
cross the border as soon as he had himself taken arms; an Imperial
squadron should appear simultaneously at the mouth of the Thames, and a
battalion of soldiers from Flanders should be landed at Hull, with arms
and money for the poorer gentlemen. He and the northern lords would supply
their own forces. Many of the other Peers, he said, entirely agreed with
him. He named especially Lord Derby and Lord Dacre.[296]

This letter is of extreme importance, as explaining the laws which it was
found necessary to pass in the ensuing Parliament. A deeply rooted and
most dangerous conspiracy was actively forming--how dangerous the
Pilgrimage of Grace afterwards proved--in which Darcy and Hussey were the
principal leaders. The Government was well served. The King and Cromwell
knew more than it was prudent to publish. The rebellion meditated was the
more formidable because it was sanctified by the name of religion, with
the avowed purpose of executing the Papal Brief. Fitzgerald's rising in
Ireland was but the first dropping of a storm designed to be universal.
Half the Peers who surrounded Henry's person, and voted in Parliament for
the reforming statutes, were at heart leagued with his enemies. He had a
right to impose a test of loyalty on them, and force them to declare
whether they were his subjects or the Pope's.

For a moment it seemed as if the peril might pass over. It became known in
England in October that Clement VII. had ended his pontificate, and that
Cardinal Farnese reigned in his stead as Paul III. On Clement's death the
King, according to Chapuys, had counted on a schism in the Church, and was
disappointed at the facility with which the election had been carried
through; but Farnese had been on Henry's side in the divorce case, and the
impression in the English Council was that the quarrel with Rome would
now be composed. The Duke of Norfolk, who had been the loudest in his
denunciations of Clement, was of the opinion that the King, as a Catholic
Prince, would submit to his successor. Even Cromwell laid the blame of the
rupture on Clement personally, and when he heard that he was gone,
exclaimed that "the Great Devil was dead." Henry knew better than his
Minister that "the Great Devil" was not this or that pontiff, but the
Papacy itself. He had liberated his kingdom; he did not mean to lead it
back into bondage. "Let no man," he said to Norfolk, "try to persuade me
to such a step. I shall account no more of the Pope than of any priest in
my realm."[297] Farnese undoubtedly expected that Henry would make
advances to him, and was prepared to meet them; he told Casalis that he
had taken a legal opinion as to whether his predecessor's judgment in the
divorce case could be reopened, and a decision given in the King's favour;
the lawyers had assured him that there would be no difficulty, and the
Pope evidently wished the King to believe that he might now have his way
if he would place himself in the Pope's hands. Henry, however, was too
wary to be caught. He must have deeds, not words, he said. If the Pope was
sincere he would revoke his predecessor's sentence of his own accord.
Francis, by whose influence Farnese had been elected, tried to bring Henry
to submission, but to no purpose. The King was no longer to be moved by
vague phrases like those to which he had once trusted to his cost.
Surrounded by treachery though he knew himself to be, he looked no longer
for palliatives and compromises, and went straight on upon his way. The
House of Commons was with him, growing in heartiness at each succeeding
session. The Peers and clergy might conspire in secret. In public, as
estates of the realm, they were too cowardly to oppose.

Parliament met in November. The other Acts which were passed by it this
year are relatively unimportant, and may be read elsewhere. The great
business of the session, which has left its mark on history, was to pass
the Act of Supremacy, detailing and explaining the meaning of the title
which Convocation two years previously had conferred upon the King.
Unentangled any longer with saving clauses, the sovereign authority under
the law in all causes, ecclesiastical and civil, was declared to rest
thenceforward in the Crown, and the last vestiges of Roman jurisdiction in
England were swept off and disappeared. No laws, no injunctions, no
fancied rights over the consciences of English subjects were to be pleaded
further as a rule to their conduct which had not been sanctioned by Crown
and Parliament. No clergy, English or foreign, were to exercise
thenceforward any power not delegated to them and limited under the law of
the land, except what could not be taken from them--their special
privilege of administering the sacraments. Double loyalty to the Crown and
to the Papacy was thenceforward impossible. The Pope had attempted to
depose the King. The Act of Supremacy was England's answer.

But to enact a law was not enough. With Ireland in insurrection, with half
the nobles and more than half the clergy, regular and secular, in England
inviting a Spanish invasion, the King and Commons, who were in earnest in
carrying through the reforms which they had begun, were obliged to take
larger measures to distinguish their friends from their enemies. If the
Catholics had the immense majority to which they pretended, the
Constitution gave them the power of legitimate opposition. If they were
professing with their lips and sustaining with their votes a course of
policy which they were plotting secretly to overthrow, it was fair and
right to compel them to show their true colours. Therefore the Parliament
further enacted that to deny the royal supremacy--in other words, to
maintain the right of the Pope to declare the King deprived--should be
high treason, and the Act was so interpreted that persons who were open to
suspicion might be interrogated, and that a refusal to answer should be
accepted as an acknowledgment of guilt. In quiet times such a measure
would be unnecessary, and therefore tyrannical. _Facta arguantur dicta
impune sint._ In the face of Chapuys's correspondence it will hardly be
maintained that the reforming Government of Henry VIII. was in no danger.
The Statute of Supremacy must be judged by the reality of the peril which
it was designed to meet. If the Reformation was a crime, the laws by which
it defended itself were criminal along with it. If the Reformation was the
dawning of a new and brilliant era for Imperial England, if it was the
opening of a fountain from which the English genius has flowed out over
the wide surface of the entire globe, the men who watched over its early
trials and enabled the movement to advance, undishonoured and undisfigured
by civil war, deserve rather to be respected for their resolution than
reviled as arbitrary despots. To try the actions of statesmen in a time of
high national peril by the canons of an age of tranquillity is the highest
form of historical injustice.

The naked truth--and nakedness is not always indecent--was something of
this kind. A marriage with a brother's wife was forbidden by the universal
law of Christendom. Kings, dukes, and other great men who disposed as they
pleased of the hands of their sons and daughters, found it often
desirable, for political or domestic reasons, to form connections which
the law prohibited, and therefore they maintained an Italian conjuror who
professed to be able for a consideration to turn wrong into right. To
marriages so arranged it was absurd to attach the same obligations as
belonged to unions legitimately contracted. If, as often happened, such
marriages turned out ill, the same conjuror who could make could unmake.
This function, also, he was repeatedly called on to exercise, and, for a
consideration also, he was usually compliant. The King of England had been
married as a boy to Catherine of Aragon, carrying out an arrangement
between their respective fathers. The marriage had failed in the most
important object for which royal marriages are formed: there was no male
heir to the crown, nor any prospect of one. Henry, therefore, as any other
prince in Europe would have done, applied to the Italian for assistance.
The conjuror was willing, confessing that the case was one where his
abilities might properly be employed. But another of his supporters
interfered, and forced him to refuse. The King of England had always paid
his share for the conjuror's maintenance. He was violently deprived of a
concession which it was admitted that he had a right to claim. But for the
conjuror's pretensions to make the unlawful lawful he would not have been
in the situation in which he found himself. What could be more natural
than that, finding himself thus treated, he should begin to doubt whether
the conjuror, after all, had the power of making wrong into right?
whether the marriage had not been wrong from the beginning? And, when the
magical artist began to curse, as his habit was when doubts were thrown on
his being the Vicar of the Almighty, what could be more natural also than
to throw him and his tackle out of window?

The passing of the Act increased the anxiety about the position of the
Princess Mary. In the opinion of most reasonable persons her claim to the
succession was superior to that of Elizabeth, and, if she had submitted to
her father, it would probably have been allowed and established. In the
eyes of the disaffected, however, she was already, by Clement's sentence,
the legitimate possessor of the throne. Reginald Pole, Lady Salisbury's
son and grandson of the Duke of Clarence, was still abroad. Henry had
endeavoured to gain him over, but had not succeeded. He was of the blood
of the White Rose, and, with his brother, had gone by instinct into
opposition. His birth, in those days of loyalty to race, gave him
influence in England, and Catherine, as has been seen, had fixed upon him
as Mary's husband. He had been brought already under Charles's notice as
likely to be of use in the intended rebellion. The Queen, wrote Chapuys to
the Emperor, knew no one to whom she would better like her daughter to be
married; many right-minded people held that the light to the crown lay in
the family of the Duke of Clarence, Edward's children having been
illegitimate; if the Emperor would send an army across with Lord Reginald
attached to it everyone would declare for him; his younger brother
Geoffrey was a constant visitor to himself; once more he insisted that
nothing could be more easy than the conquest of the whole kingdom.[298]

The object with Chapuys was now to carry Mary abroad, partly that she
might be married to Pole, partly for her own security. Notwithstanding the
King's evident care for her health and good treatment he could not look
into the details of her daily life, and Anne was growing daily more
dangerous. Both Catherine and the Princess had still many friends among
the ladies of the Court. To one of these, young and beautiful--and,
therefore, certainly not the plain Jane Seymour--the King was supposed to
have paid attentions. Like another lady who had been mentioned previously,
she was devoted to Catherine's interests, and obviously not, therefore, a
pretender to Henry's personal affections. Anne had affected to be jealous,
and under other aspects had reason for uneasiness. She had demanded this
lady's dismissal from the court, and had been so violent that "the King
had left her in displeasure, complaining of her importunacy and
vexatiousness." The restoration of Mary to favour was a constant alarm to
Anne, and she had a party of her own which had been raised by her
patronage, depended on her influence, and was ready to execute her
pleasure. Thus the petty annoyances of which both Catherine and her
daughter complained were not discontinued. The household at Kimbolton was
reduced; a confidential maid who had been useful in the Queen's
correspondence was discovered and dismissed. Mary was left under the
control of Mrs. Shelton, who dared not openly displease Anne. It was Anne
that Chapuys blamed.

Anne hated the Princess. The King had a real love for her. In her illness
he had been studiously kind. When told it had been caused by mental
trouble he said, with a sigh, "that it was pity her obstinacy should
prevent him from treating her as he wished and as she deserved. The case
was the harder, as he knew that her conduct had been dictated by her
mother, and he was therefore obliged to keep them separate."[299]

The Privy Councillors appear to have remonstrated with Anne on her
behaviour to Mary. Passionate scenes, at any rate, had occurred between
her and Henry's principal Ministers. She spoke to her uncle, the Duke of
Norfolk, in terms "which would not be used to a dog." Norfolk left the
room in indignation, muttering that she was a "_grande putaine_." The
malcontents increased daily and became bolder in word and action. Lord
Northumberland, Anne's early lover, of whom Darcy had been doubtful,
professed now to be so disgusted with the malice and arrogance of the Lady
that he, too, looked to the Emperor's coming as the only remedy. Lord
Sandys, Henry's chamberlain, withdrew to his house, pretending sickness,
and sent Chapuys a message that the Emperor had the hearts of the English
people, and, at the least motion which the Emperor might make, the realm
would be in confusion.[300] The news from Fitzgerald was less
satisfactory. His resources were failing, and he wanted help, but he was
still standing out. England, however, was more and more sure; the northern
counties were unanimous, in the south and west the Marquis of Exeter and
the Poles were superior to any force which could be brought against them;
the spread of Lutheranism was creating more exasperation than even the
divorce. Moderate men had hoped for an arrangement with the new Pope.
Instead of it, the heretical preachers were more violent than ever, and
the King was believed to have encouraged them. Dr. Brown, an Augustinian
friar, and General of the Mendicant Order, who, as some believed, had
married the King and Anne, had dared to maintain in a sermon "that the
Bishops and all others who did not burn the Bulls which they had received
from the Pope, and obtain others from the King, deserved to be punished.
Their authority was derived from the King alone. Their sacred chrism would
avail them nothing while they obeyed the Idol of Rome, who was a limb of
the Devil."

"Language so abominable," said Chapuys, in reporting it, "must have been
prompted by the King, or else by Cromwell, who made the said monk his
right hand in all things unlawful;" Cromwell and Cranmer being of Luther's
opinion that there was no difference between priests and bishops, save
what the letters patent of the Crown might constitute. "Cromwell," Chapuys
said, "had been feeling his way with some of the Bench on the subject." At
a meeting of Council he had asked Gardiner and others whether the King
could not make and unmake bishops at his pleasure. They were obliged to
answer that he could, to save their benefices.[301]

Outrages so flagrant had shocked beyond longer endurance the Conservative
mind of England. Darcy, at the beginning of the new year (a year which, as
he hoped, was to witness an end to them), sent Chapuys a present of a
sword, as an indication that the time was come for sword-play.[302] Let
the Emperor send but a little money; let a proclamation be drawn in his
name that the nation was in arms for the cause of God and the Queen, the
comfort of the people, and the restoration of order and justice, and a
hundred thousand men would rush to the field. The present was the
propitious moment. If action was longer delayed it might be too late.[303]

To the enthusiastic and the eager the cause which touches themselves the
nearest seems always the most important in the world. Charles V. had
struggled long to escape the duty which the Pope and destiny appeared to
be combining to thrust upon him. With Germany unsettled, with the Turks in
Hungary, with Barbarossa's corsair-fleet commanding the Mediterranean and
harassing the Spanish coast, with another French war visibly ahead, and a
renewed invasion of Italy, Charles was in no condition to add Henry to the
number of his enemies. Chapuys and Darcy, Fisher and Reginald Pole allowed
passion to persuade them that the English King was Antichrist in person,
the centre of all the disorder which disturbed the world. All else could
wait, but the Emperor must first strike down Antichrist and then the rest
would be easy. Charles was wiser than they, and could better estimate the
danger of what he was called on to undertake; but he could not shut his
ears entirely to entreaties so reiterated. Before anything could be done,
however, means would have to be taken to secure the persons of the Queen
and Princess--of the Princess especially, as she would be in most danger.
So far he had discouraged her escape when it had been proposed to him,
since, were she once in his hands, he had thought that war could no longer
be avoided. He now allowed Chapuys to try what he could do to get her out
of the country, and meanwhile to report more particularly on the landing
of an invading force.

The escape itself presented no great difficulty. The Princess was
generally at the Palace at Greenwich. Her friends would let her out at
night; an armed barge could be waiting off the walls, and a Flemish
man-of-war might be ready at the Nore, of size sufficient to beat off
boats that might be sent in pursuit. Should she be removed elsewhere the
enterprise would not be so easy. In the event of an insurrection while she
was still in the realm, Chapuys said the first step of the Lords would be
to get possession of her mother and Mary. If they failed, the King would
send them to the Tower: but in the Tower they would be out of danger, as
the Constable, Sir William Kingston, was their friend. In any case he did
not believe that hurt would be done them, the King feeling that, if war
did break out, they would be useful as mediators, like the wife and mother
of Coriolanus.




CHAPTER XVII.

Prospects of civil war--England and Spain--Illness of the Princess Mary--
Plans for her escape--Spirit of Queen Catherine--The Emperor unwilling to
interfere--Negotiations for a new treaty between Henry and Charles--Debate
in the Spanish Council of State--The rival alliances--Disappointment of
the confederate Peers--Advance of Lutheranism in England--Cromwell and
Chapuys--Catherine and Mary the obstacles to peace--Supposed designs on
Mary's life.


England, to all appearance, was now on the eve of a bloody and desperate
war. The conspirators were confident of success; but conspirators
associate exclusively with persons of their own opinions, and therefore
seldom judge accurately of the strength of their opponents. Chapuys and
his friends had been equally confident about Ireland. Fitzgerald was now a
fugitive, and the insurrection was burning down; yet the struggle before
Henry would have been at least as severe as had been encountered by his
grandfather Edward, and the country itself would have been torn to pieces;
one notable difference only there was in the situation--that the factions
of the Roses had begun the battle of themselves, without waiting for help
from abroad; the reactionaries under Henry VIII., confessedly, were afraid
to stir without the avowed support of the Emperor; and Charles, when the
question came seriously before him, could not have failed to ask himself
why, if they were as strong as they pretended, and the King's party as
weak as they said it was, they endured what they could easily prevent.

These reflections naturally presented themselves both to the Emperor and
to the Spanish Council when they had to decide on the part which they
would take. If what Chapuys represented as a mere demonstration should
turn into serious war, England and France would then unite in earnest;
they would combine with Germany; and Europe would be shaken with a
convulsion of which it was impossible to foresee the end. The decision was
momentous, and Charles paused before coming to a resolution. Weeks passed,
and Chapuys could have no positive answer, save that he was to give
general encouragement to the Queen's friends, and let them know that the
Emperor valued their fidelity. Weary of his hesitation, and hoping to
quicken his resolution, Catherine sent Chapuys word that the Princess was
to be forced to swear to the Act of Supremacy, and that, on her refusal,
she was to be executed or imprisoned for life. Catherine wrote what she,
perhaps, believed, but could not know. But the suspense was trying, and
the worst was naturally looked for. News came that English sailors had
been burnt by the Inquisition at Seville as heretics. Cromwell observed to
Chapuys that "he had heard the Emperor was going to make a conquest of the
realm." The Ambassador had the coolness to assure him that he was
dreaming; and that such an enterprise had never been thought of. Cromwell
knew better. He had learnt, for one thing, of the plans for Mary's escape.
He knew what that would mean, and he had, perhaps, prevented it. The
project had been abandoned for the moment. Instead of escaping, she had
shown symptoms of the same dangerous illness by which she had been
attacked before. There was the utmost alarm, and, as a pregnant evidence
of the condition of men's minds, the physicians refused to prescribe for
her, lest, if she died, they should be suspected of having poisoned her.
The King's physician declined. Queen Catherine's physician
declined--unless others were called in to assist--and the unfortunate girl
was left without medical help, in imminent likelihood of death, because
every one felt that her dying at such a time would be set down to foul
play. The King sent for Chapuys and begged that he would select a doctor,
or two doctors, of eminence to act with his own. Chapuys, with polite
irony, replied that it was not for him to make a selection; the King must
be better acquainted than he could be with the reputation of the London
physicians; and the Emperor would be displeased if he showed distrust of
his Majesty's care for his child. Cromwell, who was present, desired that
if the Princess grew worse Chapuys would allow one of his own people to be
with her. Henry continued to express his grief at her sufferings. Some
members of the Council "had not been ashamed to say" that as men could
find no means of reconciling the King with the Emperor, God might open a
door by taking the Princess to himself. It was a very natural thought.
Clement had said the same about Catherine. But the aspiration would have
been better left unexpressed.[304] Chapuys's suspicions were not removed.
He perceived the King's anxiety to be unfeigned; but he detested him too
sincerely to believe that in anything he could mean well. The Princess
recovered. Catherine took advantage of the attack to entreat again that
her daughter might be under her own charge. It was cruel to be obliged to
refuse.

Chapuys presented the Queen's request. The King, he said, heard him
patiently and graciously, and, instead of the usual answer that he knew
best how to provide for his daughter, replied, gently, that he would do
his utmost for the health of the Princess, and, since her mother's
physician would not assist, he would find others. But to let Chapuys
understand that he was not ignorant of his secret dealings, he said he
could not forget what was due to his own honour. The Princess might be
carried out of the kingdom, or might herself escape. She could easily do
it if she was left in her mother's charge. He had perceived some
indications, he added significantly, that the Emperor wished to have her
in his hands.

Ambassadors have a privilege of lying. Chapuys boldly declared that there
was no probability of the Emperor attempting to carry off the Princess.
The controversy had lasted five years, and there had been no indication of
any such purpose. The King said that it was Catherine who had made the
Princess so obstinate. Daughters owed some obedience to their mothers, but
their first duty was to the father. This Chapuys did not dispute, but
proposed as an alternative that she should reside with her old governess,
Lady Salisbury. The King said the Countess was a foolish woman, and of no
experience.[305]

The difficulty was very great. To refuse so natural a request was to
appear hard and unfeeling; yet to allow Catherine and Mary to be together
was to furnish a head to the disaffection, of the extent of which the King
was perfectly aware. He knew Catherine, and his words about her are a key
to much of their relations to one another. "She was of such high
courage," he said, "that, with her daughter at her side, she might raise
an army and take the field against him with as much spirit as her mother
Isabella."[306]

Catherine of Aragon had qualities with which history has not credited her.
She was no patient, suffering saint, but a bold and daring woman, capable,
if the opportunity was offered her, of making Henry repent of what he had
done. But would the opportunity ever come? Charles was still silent.
Chapuys continued to feed the fire with promises. Granvelle, Charles's
Minister, might be more persuasive than himself. To Granvelle the
Ambassador wrote "that the Concubine had bribed some one to pretend a
revelation from God that she was not to conceive children while the Queen
and the Princess were alive. The Concubine had sent the man with the
message to the King, and never ceased [Wolsey had called Anne 'the night
crow'] to exclaim that the ladies were rebels and traitresses, and
deserved to die."[307]

Norfolk, irritated at Anne's insolence to him, withdrew from court in
ill-humour. He complained to Reginald Pole's brother, Lord Montague, that
his advice was not attended to, and that his niece was intolerable. The
Marquis of Exeter regretted to Chapuys that the chance had not been
allowed him so far to shed his blood for the Queen and Princess. "Let the
movement begin, and he would not be the last to join." Mary,
notwithstanding the precautions taken to keep her safe, had not parted
with her hope of escape. If she could not be with her mother she thought
the Emperor might, perhaps, intercede with the King to remove her from
under Mrs. Shelton's charge. The King might be brought to consent; and
then, Chapuys said, with a pinnace and two ships in the river, she might
still be carried off when again at Greenwich, as he could find means to
get her out of the house at any hour of the night.[308]

At length the suspense was at an end, and the long-waited-for decision of
the Emperor arrived. He had considered, he said, the communications of
Lord Darcy and Lord Sandys; he admitted that the disorders of England
required a remedy; but an armed interference was at the present time
impossible.[309] It was a poor consolation to the English Peers and
clergy; and there was worse behind. Not only the Emperor did not mean to
declare war against Henry, but, spite of Catherine, spite of
excommunication, spite of heresy, he intended, if possible, to renew the
old alliance between England and the House of Burgundy. Politics are the
religion of princes, and if they are wise the peace of the world weighs
more with them than orthodoxy and family contentions. Honour, pride,
Catholic obligations recommended a desperate stroke. Prudence and a higher
duty commanded Charles to abstain. Sir John Wallop, the English
representative at Paris, was a sincere friend of Queen Catherine, but was
unwilling, for her sake, to see her plunge into an insurrectionary
whirlpool. Viscount Hannart, a Flemish nobleman with English connections,
was Charles's Minister at the same Court. Together they discussed the
situation of their respective countries. Both agreed that a war between
Henry and the Emperor would be a calamity to mankind; while in alliance
they might hold in check the impatient ambition of France. Wallop
suggested that they might agree by mutual consent to suspend their
differences on the divorce; might let the divorce pass in silence for
future settlement, and be again friends.

The proposal was submitted to the Spanish Council of State. The objections
to it were the wrongs done, and still being done, to the Queen and
Princess in the face of the Pope's sentence, and the obligations of the
Emperor to see that sentence enforced. An arrangement between the Emperor
and the King of England on the terms suggested would be ill received in
Christendom, would dispirit the two ladies, and their friends in England
who had hitherto supported the claims of the Princess Mary to the
succession; while it might, further, encourage other princes to divorce
their wives on similar grounds. In favour of a treaty, on the other hand,
were the notorious designs of the French King. France was relying on the
support of England. If nothing was done to compose the existing
differences the King of England might be driven to desperate courses. The
Faith of the Church would suffer. The General Council, so anxiously looked
for, would be unable to meet. The French King would be encouraged to go to
war. Both he and the King of England would support the German schism, and
the lives of the Princess and her mother would probably be sacrificed. A
provisional agreement might modify the King of England's action, the
Church might be saved, the ladies' lives be secured, and doubt and
distrust be introduced between England and France. The Emperor could then
deal with the Turks, and other difficulties could be tided over till a
Council could meet and settle everything.[310]

Chapuys had written so confidently on the strength of the insurrectionary
party that it was doubted whether choice between the alternative courses
might not better be left for him to decide. Charles, who could better
estimate the value of the promises of disaffected subjects, determined
otherwise. The Ambassador, therefore, was informed that war would be
inconvenient. Lord Darcy's sword must remain in the scabbard, and an
attempt be made for reconciliation on the lines suggested by Sir John
Wallop. Meanwhile, directions were given to the Inquisitors at Seville to
be less precipitate in their dealings with English seamen.

From the first it had been Cromwell's hope and conviction that an open
quarrel would be escaped. The French party in the English Council--Anne
Boleyn, her family, and friends--had been urging the alliance with France,
and a general attack on Charles's scattered dominions. Cromwell, though a
Protestant in religion, distrusted an associate who, when England was once
committed, might make his own terms and leave Henry to his fate. In
politics Cromwell had been consistently Imperialist. He had already
persuaded the King to allow the Princess to move nearer to Kimbolton,
where her mother's physician could have charge of her. He sent thanks to
Charles in the King's name for his interference with the Holy Office. He
left nothing undone to soften the friction and prepare for a
reconciliation. Catherine and Mary he perceived to be the only obstacle to
a return to active friendship. If the broken health of one, and the acute
illness of the other, should have a fatal termination, as a politician he
could not but feel that it would be an obstacle happily removed.

Chapuys's intrigue with the confederate Peers had been continued to the
latest moment. All arrangements had been made for their security when the
rising should break out. Darcy himself was daily looking for the signal,
and begged only for timely notice of the issue of the Emperor's manifesto
to escape to his castle in the north.[311] The Ambassador had now to trim
his sails on the other tack. The Emperor was ready to allow the execution
of Clement's sentence to stand over till the General Council, without
prejudice to the rights of parties, provided an engagement was made for
the respectful treatment of the Queen and Princess, and a promise given
that their friends should be unmolested. To Catherine the disappointment
was hard to bear. The talk of a treaty was the death-knell of the hopes on
which she had been feeding. A close and confidential intercourse was
established between Chapuys and Cromwell to discuss the preliminary
conditions, Chapuys, ill liking his work, desiring to fail, and on the
watch for any point on which to raise a suspicion.

The Princess was the first difficulty. Cromwell had promised that she
should be moved to her mother's neighbourhood. She had been sent no nearer
than Ampthill. Cromwell said that he would do what he could, but the
subject was disagreeable to the King, and he could say no more. He entered
at once, however, on the King's desire to be again on good terms with the
Emperor. The King had instructed him to discuss the whole situation with
Chapuys, and it would be unfortunate, he said, if the interests of two
women were allowed to interfere with weighty matters of State. The Queen
had been more than once seriously ill, and her life was not likely to be
prolonged. The Princess was not likely to live either; and it did not
appear that either in Spain or France there was much anxiety for material
alteration in their present position. Meanwhile, the French were
passionately importuning the King to join in a war against the Emperor.
Cromwell said that he had been himself opposed to it, and the present
moment, when the Emperor was engaged with the Turks, was the last which
the King would choose for such a purpose. The object to be arrived at was
the pacification of Christendom and the general union of all the leading
Powers. The King desired it as much as he, and had, so far, prevented war
from being declared by France.

It was true that the peace of the world was of more importance than the
complaints of Catherine and Mary. Catherine had rejected a compromise when
the Emperor himself recommended it, and Mary had defied her father and had
defied Parliament at her mother's bidding. There were limits to the
sacrifices which they were entitled to demand. Chapuys protested against
Cromwell's impression that the European Powers were indifferent. The
strongest interest was felt in their fate, he said, and many
inconveniences would follow should harm befall them. The world would
certainly believe that they had met with foul play. The Emperor would be
charged with having caused it by neglecting to execute the Pope's
sentence, and it would be said also that, but for the expectations which
the Emperor had held out to them of defending their cause, they would
themselves have conformed to the King's wishes; they would then have been
treated with due regard and have escaped their present miseries. Cromwell
undertook that the utmost care and vigilance should be observed that hurt
should not befall them. The Princess, he said, he loved as much as Chapuys
himself could love her, and nothing that he could do for them should be
neglected; but the Ambassador and the Emperor's other agents were like
hawks who soared high to stoop more swiftly on their prey. Their object
was to have the Princess declared next in succession to the crown, and
that was impossible owing to the late statutes.

Chapuys reported what had passed to his master, but scarcely concealed his
contempt for the business in which he was engaged. "I cannot tell," he
wrote, "what sort of a treaty could be made with this King as long as he
refuses to restore the Queen and Princess, or repair the hurts of the
Church and the Faith, which grow worse every day. No later than Sunday
last a preacher raised a question whether the body of Christ was
contained, or not, in the consecrated wafer. Your Majesty may consider
whither such propositions are tending."[312]

A still more important conversation followed a few days later. It can
hardly be doubted, in the face of Chapuys's repeated declaration that both
Catherine and her daughter were in personal danger, that Anne Boleyn felt
her position always precarious as long as they were alive, and refused to
acknowledge her marriage. She perhaps felt that it would go hard with
herself in the event of a successful insurrection. She had urged, as far
as she dared, that they should be tried under the statute; but Henry would
not allow such a proposal to be so much as named to him. Other means,
however, might be found to make away with them, and Sir Arthur Darcy,
Lord Darcy's son, thought they would be safer in the King's hands in the
Tower than in their present residence. "The devil of a Concubine would
never rest till she had gained her object."

The air was thick with these rumours when Chapuys and Cromwell again met.
The overtures had been commenced by the Emperor. Cromwell said the King
had given him a statement in writing that he was willing to renew his old
friendship with the Emperor and make a new treaty with him, if proper
safeguards could be provided for his honour and reputation; but it was to
be understood distinctly that he would not permit the divorce question to
be reopened; he would rather forfeit his crown and his life than consent
to it, or place himself in subjection to any foreign authority; this was
his firm resolution, which he desired Chapuys to make known to the
Emperor.

The Spanish Ministry had been willing that the Pope's sentence should be
revised by a General Council. Why, Chapuys asked, might not the King
consent also to refer the case to the Council? The King knew that he was
right. He had once been willing--why should he now refuse? A Council, it
had been said, would be called by the Pope, and would be composed of
clergy who were not his friends; but Chapuys would undertake that there
should be no unfair dealing. Were the Pope and clergy to intend harm, all
the Princes of Christendom would interfere. The Emperor would recommend
nothing to which the King would not be willing to subscribe. The
favourable verdict of a Council would restore peace in England, and would
acquit the Emperor's conscience. The Emperor, as matters stood, was bound
to execute the sentence which had been delivered, and could not hold back
longer without a hope of the King's submission.

Cromwell admitted the reasonableness of Chapuys's suggestion. The Emperor
was showing by the advances which he had commenced that he desired a
reconciliation. A Council controlled by the princes of Europe might
perhaps be a useful instrument. Cromwell promised an answer in two days.

Then, after a pause, he returned to the subject of which he had spoken
before:--In a matter of so much consequence to the world as the good
intelligence of himself and the King of England, he said that the Emperor
ought not to hesitate on account of the Queen and the Princess. They were
but mortal. If the Princess was to die, her death would be no great
misfortune, when the result of it would be the union and friendship of the
two Princes.[313] He begged Chapuys to think it over when alone and at
leisure. He then went on to inquire (for Chapuys had not informed him that
the Emperor had already made up his mind to an arrangement) whether the
ladies' business might not be passed over silently in the new treaty, and
be left in suspense for the King's life. A General Council might meet to
consider the other disorders of Christendom, or a congress might be held,
previously appointed jointly by the King and the Emperor, when the ladies'
rights might be arranged without mystery. Then once more, and, as Chapuys
thought, with marked emphasis, he asked again what harm need be feared if
the Princess were to die. The world might mutter, but why should it be
resented by the Emperor?[314]

Chapuys says that he replied that he would not dwell on the trouble which
might arise if the Princess suddenly died in a manner so suspicious. God
forbid that such a thing should be! How could the Emperor submit to the
reproach of having consented to the death of his cousin, and sold her for
the sake of a peace?

Chapuys professed to believe, and evidently wished the Emperor to believe,
that Cromwell was seriously proposing that the Princess Mary should be
made away with. A single version of a secret conversation is an
insufficient evidence of an intended monstrous crime. We do not know in
what language it was carried on. Cromwell spoke no language but English
with exactness, and Chapuys understood English imperfectly. The recent and
alarming illness of the Princess, occasioned by restraint, fear, and
irritation, had made her condition a constant subject of Chapuys's
complaints, and Cromwell may have been thinking and speaking only of her
dying under the natural consequences of prolonged confinement. Chapuys's
unvarying object was to impress on the Emperor that her life was in
danger. But Cromwell he admitted had been uniformly friendly to Mary, and,
had foul play been really contemplated, the Emperor's Ambassador was the
last person to whom the intention would have been communicated.

The conversation did not end with Chapuys's answer. Cromwell went on, he
said (still dwelling on points most likely to wound Charles), to rage
against popes and cardinals, saying that he hoped the race would soon be
extinct, and that the world would be rid of their abomination and tyranny.
Then he spoke again of France, and of the pressure laid on Henry to join
with the French in a war. Always, he said, he had dissuaded his master
from expeditions on the Continent. He had himself refused a large pension
which the French Government had offered him, and he intended at the next
Parliament to introduce a Bill prohibiting English Ministers from taking
pensions from foreign princes on pain of death.

Men who have been proposing to commit murders do not lightly turn to
topics of less perilous interest.

Some days passed before Chapuys saw Cromwell again; but he continued to
learn from him the various intrigues which were going on. Until the King
was sure of his ground with Charles, the French faction at the court
continued their correspondence with Francis. The price of an Anglo-French
alliance was to be a promise from the French King to support Henry in his
quarrel with Rome at the expected Council, and Chapuys advised his master
not to show too much eagerness for the treaty, as he would make the King
more intractable.

The Emperor's way of remedying the affairs of England could not be better
conceived, he said, provided the English Government met him with an honest
response, provided they would forward the meeting of the Council, and
treat the Queen and Princess better, who were in great personal danger.
This, however, he believed they would never do. The Queen had instructed
him to complain to the Emperor that her daughter was still left in the
hands of her enemies, and that if she was to die it would be attributed to
the manner in which she had been dealt with; the Queen, however, was
satisfied that the danger would disappear if the King and the Emperor came
to an understanding; and, if she could be assured that matters would be
conducted as the Emperor proposed, he would be able to persuade her to
approve of the whole plan.

Chapuys never repeated his suspicion that danger threatened Mary from
Cromwell, and, if he had really believed it, he would hardly have failed
to make further mention of so dark a suggestion. He was not scrupulous
about truth: diplomatists with strong personal convictions seldom are. He
had assured the King that a thought had never been entertained of an armed
interference in England, while his letters for many months had been full
of schemes for insurrection and invasion. He was eager for the work to
begin. He was incredulous of any other remedy, and, if he dared, would
have forced the Emperor's hand. He depended for his information of what
passed at the court upon Anne Boleyn's bitterest enemies, and he put the
worst interpretation upon every story which was brought to him. Cromwell,
he said, had spoken like Caiaphas. It is hardly credible that Cromwell
would have ventured to insult the Emperor with a supposition that he would
make himself an accomplice in a crime. But though I think it more likely
that Chapuys misunderstood or misrepresented Cromwell than that he
accurately recorded his words, yet it is certain that there were members
of Henry's Council who did seriously desire to try and to execute both
Mary and her mother. Both of them were actively dangerous. Their friends
were engaged in a conspiracy for open rebellion in their names, and,
under the Tudor princes, nearness of blood or station to the Crown was
rather a danger than a protection. Royal pretenders were not gently dealt
with, even when no immediate peril was feared from them. Henry VII. had
nothing to fear from the Earl of Warwick, yet Warwick lay in a bloody
grave. Mary herself executed her cousin Jane Grey, and was hardly
prevented from executing her sister Elizabeth. Elizabeth, in turn,
imprisoned Catherine Grey, and let her die as Chapuys feared that Mary was
now about to die. The dread of another war of succession lay like a
nightmare on the generations which carried with them an ever-present
memory of the Wars of the Roses.




CHAPTER XVIII.

Negotiations for a treaty--Appeal of Catherine to the Emperor--Fresh plans
for the escape of Mary--Forbidden by the Emperor--The King and his
daughter--Suggestion of Dr. Butts--The clergy and the Reformation--The
Charterhouse monks--More and Fisher in the Tower--The Emperor in Africa--
The treaty--Rebellion in Ireland--Absolution of Lord Thomas Fitzgerald for
the murder of the Archbishop of Dublin--Treason of Lord Hussey--Fresh
debates in the Spanish Council--Fisher created cardinal--Trial and
execution of Fisher and More--Effect in Europe.


More than a year had now passed since Clement had delivered judgment on
the divorce case. So far the discharge had been ineffective, and the Brief
of Execution, the direct command to the Catholic Powers to dethrone Henry
and to his subjects to renounce their allegiance, was still withheld. The
advances which the new Pope had made to England having met with no
response, Paul III. was ready to strike the final blow, but his hand had
been held by Charles, who was now hoping by a treaty to recover the
English alliance. Catherine had consented, but consented reluctantly, to
an experiment from which she expected nothing. Chapuys himself did not
wish it to succeed, and was unwilling to part with the expectations which
he had built on Darcy's promises. The Spanish Council, in recommending the
course which the Emperor had taken, had foreseen the dispiritment which it
might produce among the Queen's friends, and the injury to the Holy See by
the disregard of a sentence which Charles had himself insisted on. The
treaty made no progress. The sacrifice appeared to be fruitless, and
Catherine appealed to Charles once more in her old tone. She would be
wanting in her duty to herself, she said, and she would offend God, if she
did not seek the help of those who alone could give her effectual
assistance. She must again press upon his Majesty the increasing perils to
the Catholic Faith and the injury to the English realm which his neglect
to act was producing. The sentence of Clement had been powerless. She
entreated him with all her energy as a Christian woman to hesitate no
longer. Her daughter had been ill, and had not yet recovered. Had her
health been strong, the treatment which she received would destroy it,
and, if she died, there would be a double sin. The Emperor need not care
for herself. She was accustomed to suffering and could bear anything. But
she must let him know that she was as poor as Job, and was expecting a
time when she would have to beg alms for the love of God.[315]

Mary was scarcely in so bad a case as her mother represented. Her spirit
had got the better of her illness, and she was again alert and active. The
King had supplied her with money and had sent her various kind messages,
but she was still eager to escape out of the realm, and Charles had again
given a qualified consent to the attempt being made if it was sure of
success. With Mary in his hands, he could deal with Henry to better
advantage. A favourable opportunity presented itself. Three Spanish ships
were lying in the Lower Pool; Mary was still at Greenwich, and their crews
were at her disposition. Chapuys asked if she was ready. She was not only
ready but eager. She could leave the palace at night with the help of
confederates, be carried on board, and disappear down the river.

Accident, or perhaps a whispered warning, deranged her plans. By a sudden
order she was removed from Greenwich to Eltham. The alteration of
residence was not accompanied with signs of suspicion. She was treated
with marked respect. A State litter of some splendour was provided for
her. The governess, Mrs. Shelton, however, was continued at her side, and
the odious presence redoubled her wish to fly. Before she left Greenwich
she sent a message to Chapuys imploring his advice and his assistance. She
begged him for the love of God to contrive fresh means for removing her
from the country. The enterprise, he thought, would be now dangerous, but
not impossible, and success would be a glorious triumph. The Princess had
told him that in her present lodging she could not be taken away at night,
but she might walk in the day in fine weather, and might be surprised and
carried off as if against her consent. The river would not be many miles
distant, and, if she could be fallen in with when alone, there might be
less difficulty than even at Greenwich, because she could be put on board
below Gravesend.[316]

As a ship would be required from Flanders, Chapuys communicated directly
with Granvelle. He was conscious that, if he was himself in England when
the enterprise was attempted, his own share in it would be suspected and
it might go hard with him. He proposed, therefore, under some excuse of
business in the Low Countries, to cross over previously.

It would be a splendid _coup_, he said, and, considering how much the
Princess wished it and her remarkable prudence and courage, the thing
could, no doubt, be managed. Could she be once seized and on horseback,
and if there was a galley at hand and a large ship or two, there would be
no real difficulty. The country-people would help her, and the parties
sent in pursuit would be in no hurry.[317]

Either the difficulties proved greater than were expected, or Charles was
still hoping for the treaty, and would not risk an experiment which would
spoil the chances of an accommodation. Once more he altered his mind and
forbade the venture, and Chapuys had to take up again a negotiation from
which he had no expectation of good. He met Cromwell from time to time,
his master's pleasure being to preserve peace on tolerable terms; and the
Ambassador continued to propose the reference of the divorce case to the
General Council, on which Cromwell had seemed not unwilling to listen to
him. If Henry could be tempted by vague promises to submit his conduct to
a Council called by the Pope, he would be again in the meshes out of which
he had cut his way. The cunning Ambassador urged on Cromwell the honour
which the King would gain if a Council confirmed what he had done; and
when Cromwell answered that a Council under the Emperor's influence might
rather give an adverse sentence, he said that, if it was so, the King
would have shown by a voluntary submission that his motives had been pure,
and might have perfect confidence in the Emperor's fairness. Cromwell said
he would consult the King; but the real difficulty lay in the pretensions
of the Princess. Cromwell was well served; he probably knew, as well as
Chapuys, of the intended rape at Eltham, and all that it would involve.
"Would to God"--he broke out impatiently, and did not finish the sentence;
but Chapuys thought he saw what the finish would have been.[318] Henry may
be credited with some forbearance towards his troublesome daughter. She
defied his laws. Her supporters were trying to take his crown from him,
and she herself was attempting to escape abroad and levy war upon him. Few
of his predecessors would have hesitated to take ruder methods with so
unmalleable a piece of metal. She herself believed that escape was her
only chance of life. She was in the power of persons who, she had been
told, meant to poison her, while no means were neglected to exasperate the
King's mind against her. He, on his side, was told that she was incurably
obstinate, while everything was concealed that might make him more
favourably disposed towards her. In the midst of public business with
which he was overwhelmed, he could not know what was passing inside the
walls at Eltham. He discovered occasionally that he had been deceived. He
complained to Cromwell "that he had found much good in his daughter of
which he had not been properly informed." But if there was a conspiracy
against Mary, there was also a conspiracy against himself, in a quarter
where it could have been least expected.

Dr. Butts, the King's physician, whose portrait by Holbein is so familiar
to us, was one of the most devoted friends of Queen Catherine. During
Mary's illness, Dr. Butts had affected to be afraid of the responsibility
of attending upon her. He had consented afterwards, though with apparent
reluctance, and had met in consultation Catherine's doctor, who had also
allowed himself to be persuaded. Henry sent Butts down to Eltham with his
own horses. The Royal physician found his patient better than he expected,
and, instead of talking over her disorders, he talked of the condition of
the realm with his brother practitioner. "The Doctor is a very clever
man," wrote Chapuys, reporting the account of the conversation which he
received from the Queen's physician, "and is intimate with the nobles and
the Council. He says that there are but two ways of assisting the Queen
and Princess and of setting right the affairs of the realm: one would be
if it pleased God to visit the King with some little malady."[319] "The
second method was force, of which, he said, the King and his Ministers
were in marvellous fear. If it came to a war, he thought the King would be
specially careful of the Queen and Princess, meaning to use them, should
things turn to the worst, as mediators for peace. But if neither of these
means were made use of, he really believed they were in danger of their
lives. He considered it was lucky for the King that the Emperor did not
know how easy the enterprise of England would be; and the present, he
said, was the right time for it."

His private physician, it is to be remembered, was necessarily, of all
Henry's servants, the most trusted by him; and the doctor was not
contented with indirect suggestions, for he himself sent a secret message
to Chapuys that twenty great peers and a hundred knights were ready, they
and their vassals, to venture fortune and life, with the smallest
assistance from the Emperor, to rise and make a revolution.[320]

Dr. Butts with his _petite maladie_ was a "giant traitor," though, happily
for himself, he was left undiscovered. Human sympathies run so inevitably
on the side of the sufferers in history, that we forget that something
also is due to those whom they forced into dealing hardly with them.
Catherine and the faithful Catholics who conspired and lost their lives
for her cause and the Pope's, are in no danger of losing the favourable
judgment of the world; the tyranny and cruelty of Henry VIII. will
probably remain for ever a subject of eloquent denunciation; but there is
an _altera pars_--another view of the story, which we may be permitted
without offence to recognise. Henry was, on the whole, right; the general
cause for which he was contending was a good cause. His victory opened the
fountains of English national life, won for England spiritual freedom, and
behind spiritual freedom her political liberties. His defeat would have
kindled the martyr-fires in every English town, and would have burnt out
of the country thousands of poor men and women as noble as Catherine
herself. He had stained the purity of his action by intermingling with it
a weak passion for a foolish and bad woman, and bitterly he had to suffer
for his mistake; but the revolt against, and the overthrow of,
ecclesiastical despotism were precious services, which ought to be
remembered to his honour; and, when the good doctor to whom he trusted his
life, out of compassion for an unfortunate lady was, perhaps, willing to
administer a doubtful potion to him, or to aid in inviting a Catholic
army into England to extinguish the light that was dawning there, only
those who are Catholics first and Englishmen afterwards will say that it
was well done on the doctor's part.

The temper of the nation was growing dangerous, and the forces on both
sides were ranging themselves for the battle. Bishop Fisher has been seen
sounding on the same string. He, with More, had now been for many months
in the Tower, and his communications with Chapuys having been cut off, he
had been unable to continue his solicitations; but the Ambassador had
undertaken for the whole of the clergy on the instant that the Emperor
should declare himself. The growth of Lutheranism had touched their hearts
with pious indignation; their hatred of heresy was almost the sole
distinction which they had preserved belonging to their sacred calling.
The regular orders were the most worthless; the smaller monasteries were
nests of depravity; the purpose of their existence was to sing souls out
of purgatory, and the efficacy of their musical petitionings being no
longer believed in, the King had concluded that monks and nuns could be
better employed, and that the wealth which maintained them could be turned
to better purpose--to the purpose especially of the defence of the realm
against them and their machinations. The monks everywhere were the active
missionaries of treason. They writhed under the Act of Supremacy. Their
hope of continuance depended on the restoration of the Papal authority.
When they were discovered to be at once useless and treacherous, it was
not unjust to take their lands from them and apply the money for which
those lands could be sold, to the fleet and the fortresses on the coast.

In this, the greatest of his reforms, Cromwell had been the King's chief
adviser. He had been employed under Wolsey in the first suppression of the
most corrupt of the smaller houses. In the course of his work he had
gained an insight into the scandalous habits of their occupants, which
convinced him of the impolicy and uselessness of attempting to prolong
their existence. Institutions however ancient, organizations however
profoundly sacred, cannot outlive the recognition that the evil which they
produce is constant and the advantage visionary.

That the monastic system was doomed had become generally felt; that the
victims of the intended overthrow should be impatient of their fate was no
more than natural. The magnitude of the design, the interests which were
threatened, the imagined sanctity attaching to property devoted to the
Church, gave an opportunity for outcry against sacrilege. The entire body
of monks became in their various orders an army of insurrectionary
preachers, well supplied with money, terrifying the weak, encouraging the
strong, and appealing to the superstitions so powerful with a people like
the English, who were tenacious of their habits and associations.

The Abbots and Priors had sworn to the supremacy, but had sworn
reluctantly, with secret reservations to save their consciences. With the
prospect of an Imperial deliverer to appear among them, they were
recovering courage to defy their excommunicated enemy. Those who retained
the most of the original spirit of their religion were the first to
recover heart for resistance. The monks of the London Charterhouse, who
were exceptions to the general corruption, and were men of piety and
character, came forward to repudiate their oaths and to dare the law to
punish them. Their tragical story is familiar to all readers of English
history. Chapuys adds a few particulars. Their Prior, Haughton, had
consented to the Act of Supremacy; but his conscience told him that in
doing so he had committed perjury. He went voluntarily, with three of the
brotherhood, to Cromwell, and retracted his oath, declaring that the King
in calling himself Head of the Church was usurping the Pope's authority.
They had not been sent for; their house was in no immediate danger; and
there was no intention of meddling with them. Their act was a gratuitous
defiance; and under the circumstances of the country was an act of war.
The effect, if not the purpose, was, and must have been, to encourage a
spirit which would explode in rebellion. Cromwell warned them of their
danger, and advised them to keep their scruples to themselves. They said
they would rather encounter a hundred thousand deaths. They were called
before a Council of Peers. The Knights of the Garter were holding their
annual Chapter, and the attendance was large. The Duke of Norfolk
presided, having returned to the Court, and the proceedings were unusually
solemn. The monks were required to withdraw their declaration; they were
told that the statute was not to be disputed. They persisted. They were
allowed a night to reflect, and they spent it on their knees in prayer. In
the morning they were recalled; their courage held, and they were
sentenced to die, with another friar who had spoken and written to similar
purpose.

They had thrown down a challenge to the Government; the challenge was
accepted, and the execution marked the importance of the occasion. They
were not a handful of insignificant priests, they were the advanced guard
of insurrection; and to allow them to triumph was to admit defeat. They
were conducted through the streets by an armed force. The Duke of Norfolk,
the Duke of Richmond, Henry's illegitimate son, Lord Wiltshire, and Lord
Rochford attended at the scaffold. Sir Henry Norris was also there,
masked, with forty of the Royal Guard on horseback. At the scaffold they
were again offered a chance of life; again they refused, and died
gallantly. The struggle had begun for the Crown of England. In claiming
the supremacy for the Pope, these men had abjured their allegiance to the
King whom the Pope had excommunicated. Conscience was nothing--motive was
nothing. Conscience was not allowed as a plea when a Lutheran was
threatened with the stake. In all civil conflicts high motives are to be
found on both sides, and in earnest times words are not used without
meaning. The Statute of Supremacy was Henry's defence against an attempt
to deprive him of his crown and deprive the kingdom of its independence.
To disobey the law was treason; and the penalty of treason was death.[321]

Chapuys in telling the story urged it as a proof to Charles that there was
no hope of the King's repentance. It was now expected that More and
Fisher, and perhaps the Queen and Princess, would be called on also to
acknowledge the supremacy, and, if they refused, would suffer the same
fate. The King's Ministers, Chapuys said, were known to have often
reproached the King, and to have told him it was a shame for him and the
kingdom not to punish them as traitors. Anne Boleyn was fiercer and
haughtier than ever she was.[322] Sir Thomas More was under the same
impression that Anne had been instigator of the severities. She would take
his head from him, he said, and then added, prophetically, that her own
would follow. The presence of her father and brother and her favourite
Norris at the execution of the Carthusians confirmed the impression. The
action of the Government had grounds more sufficient than a woman's
urgency. More and Fisher received notice that they would be examined on
the statute, and were allowed six weeks to prepare their answer. Chapuys
did not believe that any danger threatened Catherine, or threatened her
household. She herself, however, anticipated the worst, and only hoped
that her own fate might rouse the Emperor at last.

The Emperor was not to be roused. He was preparing for his great
expedition to Tunis to root out the corsairs, and had other work on hand.
In vain Chapuys had tried to make him believe that Cromwell meditated the
destruction of the Princess Mary; in vain Chapuys had told him that words
were useless, and that "cautery was the only remedy"--that the English
Peers were panting for encouragement to take arms. He had no confidence in
insurgent subjects who could not use the constitutional methods which they
possessed to do anything for themselves. He saw Henry crushing down
resistance with the relentless severity of the law. He replied to
Chapuys's entreaties that, although he could not in conscience abandon his
aunt and cousin, yet the Ambassador must temporise. He had changed his
mind about Mary's escape: he said it was dangerous, unadvisable, and not
to be thought of.[323] The present was not the proper moment. He wrote a
cautious letter to the King, which he forwarded for Chapuys to deliver.
In spite of Charterhouse monks and Lutheran preachers, the Ambassador was
to take up again the negotiations for the treaty.

Thus Cromwell and he recommenced their secret meetings. A country-house
was selected for the purpose, where their interviews would be unobserved.
Chapuys had recommended that Henry should assist in calling a General
Council. Cromwell undertook that Henry would consent, provided the Council
was not held in Italy, or in the Pope's or the Emperor's dominions, and
provided that the divorce should not be among the questions submitted to
it. The Emperor, he said, had done enough for his honour, and might now
leave the matter to the King's conscience. With respect to the Queen and
Princess, the King had already written to Sir John Wallop, who was to lay
his letters before the Spanish Ambassador in Paris. The King had said
that, although the Emperor, in forsaking a loyal friend for the sake of a
woman, had not acted well with him, yet he was willing to forget and
forgive. If the Emperor would advise the ladies to submit to the judgment
of the Universities of Europe, which had been sanctioned by the English
estates of the realm, and was as good as a decree of a Council, they would
have nothing to complain of.[324] Chapuys observed that such a letter
ought to have been shown to himself before it was sent; but that was of no
moment. The King of France, Cromwell went on, would bring the Turk, and
the Devil, too, into Christendom to recover Milan; the King and the
Emperor ought to draw together to hold France in check; and yet, to give
Chapuys a hint that he knew what he had been doing, he said he had heard,
though he did not believe it, that the Emperor and the King of the Romans
had thought of invading England, in a belief that they would make an easy
conquest of it. They would find the enterprise more costly than they
expected, and, even if they did conquer England, they could not keep it.
Chapuys, wishing to learn how much had been discovered, asked what
Cromwell meant. Cromwell told him the exact truth. The scheme had been to
stop the trade between England and Flanders. A rebellion was expected to
follow, which, Cromwell admitted, was not unlikely; and then, in great
detail and with a quiet air of certainty, he referred to the solicitations
continually made to the Emperor to send across an army.

Leaving Chapuys to wonder at his sources of information, so accurate,
Cromwell spoke of an approaching conference at Calais, which was to be
held at the request of the French King. He did not think anything would
come of it. He had himself declined to be present, but one of the
proposals to be made would be an offer of the Duke of Angoulême for the
young Princess Elizabeth. The Council, he said, had meantime been
reviewing the old treaty for the marriage of the Emperor to the Princess
Mary, and the King had spoken in the warmest terms of the Emperor. Perhaps
as a substitute for the French connection, and provided the divorce was
not called in question again, he thought that the Princess Elizabeth might
be betrothed to Philip, and a marriage could be found out of the realm for
the Princess Mary with the Emperor's consent and approbation. The King, in
this case, would give her the greatest and richest dower that was ever
given to any Queen or Empress.[325]

Chapuys observed that the divorce must be disposed of before fresh
marriages could be thought of. Cromwell wished him to speak himself to the
King. Chapuys politely declined to take so delicate a negotiation out of
Cromwell's hands. For himself, he had not yet abandoned hope of a
different issue. Lord Darcy was still eager as ever, and wished to
communicate directly with the Emperor. From Ireland, too, the news were
less discouraging. The insurrection had burnt down, but was still
unsubdued. Lord Thomas found one of his difficulties to lie in the
incompleteness of the Papal censures. The formal Bull of Deposition was
still unpublished. The young chief had written to the Pope to say that,
but for this deficiency, he would have driven the English out of the
island, and to beg that it might be immediately supplied. He had himself,
too, perhaps, been in fault. The murder of an archbishop who had not been
directly excommunicated was an irregularity and possibly a crime. He
prayed that the Pope would send him absolution. Paul as he read the letter
showed much pleasure. He excused his hesitation as having risen from a
hope that the King of England would repent. For the future he said he
would do his duty; and at once sent Lord Thomas the required pardon for an
act which had been really meritorious.[326]

The absolution may have benefited Lord Thomas's soul. It did not save him
from the gallows.

Again Cromwell and Chapuys met. Again the discussion returned to the
insoluble problem. The Spanish Council of State had half recommended that
the divorce should be passed over, as it had been at Cambray. Chapuys
laboured to entangle Henry in an engagement that it should be submitted
to the intended General Council. The argument took the usual form.
Cromwell said that the King could not revoke what he had done, without
disgrace. Chapuys answered that it was the only way to avoid disgrace, and
the most honourable course which he could adopt. The King ought not to be
satisfied in such a matter with the laws and constitutions of his own
country. If he would yield on this single point, the taking away the
property of the clergy might in some degree be confirmed. The ground
alleged for it being the defence of the realm, there would be less
occasion for such measures in future; the Emperor would allow the King to
make his submission in any form that he might choose, and everything
should be made as smooth as Henry could desire.

Cromwell, according to Chapuys, admitted the soundness of the argument,
but he said that it was neither in his power, nor in any man's power, to
persuade the King, who would hazard all rather than yield. Even the
present Pope, he said, had, when Cardinal, written an autograph letter to
the King, telling him that he had a right to ask for a divorce, and that
Clement had done him great wrong.

The less reason then, Chapuys neatly observed, for refusing to lay the
matter before a General Council.

The Ambassador went through his work dutifully, though expecting nothing
from it, and his reports of what passed with the English Ministers ended
generally with a recommendation of what he thought the wiser course. Lord
Hussey, he said, had sent to him to say that he could remain no longer in
a country where all ranks and classes were being driven into heresy; and
would, therefore, cross the Channel to see the Emperor in person, to urge
his own opinion and learn the Emperor's decision from his own lips. If
the answer was unfavourable he would tell his friends, that they might not
be deceived in their expectations. They would then act for
themselves.[327]

It is likely that Chapuys had been instructed to reserve the concessions
which Charles was prepared to make till it was certain that, without them,
the treaty would fail. France meanwhile was outbidding the Emperor, and
the King was using, without disguise, the offers of each Power to alarm
the other. Cromwell at the next meeting told Chapuys that Francis was
ready to support the divorce unreservedly if Henry would assist him in
taking Milan. The French, he said, should have a sharp answer, could
confidence be felt in the Emperor's overtures. A sharp struggle was going
on in the Council between the French and Imperial factions. Himself
sincerely anxious for the success of the negotiation in which he was
engaged, Cromwell said he had fallen into worse disgrace with Anne Boleyn
than he had ever been. Anne had never liked him. She had told him recently
"she would like to see his head off his shoulders."[328] She was equally
angry with the Duke of Norfolk, who had been too frank in the terms in
which he had spoken of her. If she discovered his interviews with Chapuys
she would do them both some ill turn.

The King himself agreed with Cromwell in preferring the Emperor to
Francis, but he would not part company with France till he was assured
that Charles no longer meant his harm. Charles, it will be remembered, had
himself written to Henry, and the letter had by this time arrived. Chapuys
feared that, if he presented it at a public audience, the Court would
conclude that the Emperor was reconciled, and had abandoned the Queen and
Princess, so he applied for a private reception. The King granted it, read
the letter, spoke graciously of the expedition against the Turks, and then
significantly of his own armaments and the new fortifications at Dover and
Calais. He believed (as Chapuys had heard from the Princess Mary) that, if
he could tide over the present summer, the winter would then protect him,
and that in another year he would be strong enough to fear no one. Seeing
that he said nothing of the treaty, Chapuys began upon it, and said that
the Emperor was anxious to come to terms with him, so far as honour and
conscience would allow. Henry showed not the least eagerness. He replied
with entire frankness that France was going to war for Milan. Large offers
had been made to him, which, so far, he had not accepted; but he might be
induced to listen, unless he could be better assured of the Emperor's
intention.[329]

It was evident that Henry could neither be cajoled nor frightened. Should
Charles then give up the point for which he was contending? Once more the
Imperial Privy Council sat to consider what was to be done. It had become
clear that no treaty could be made with Henry unless the Emperor would
distinctly consent that the divorce should not be spoken of. The old
objections were again weighed--the injuries to the Queen and to the Holy
See, the Emperor's obligations, the bad effect on Christendom and on
England which a composition on such terms would produce, the encouragement
to other Princes to act as Henry had done--stubborn facts of the case
which could not be evaded. On the other hand were the dangerous attitude
of Francis, the obstinacy of Henry, the possibility that France and
England might unite, and the inability of the Emperor to encounter their
coalition. Both Francis and Henry were powerful Princes, and a quarrel
would not benefit the Queen and her daughter if the Emperor was powerless
to help them. The divorce was the difficulty. Should the Emperor insist on
a promise that it should be submitted to a General Council? It might be
advisable, under certain circumstances, to create disturbances in England
and Ireland, so as to force the King into an alliance on the Emperor's
terms. But if Henry could be induced to suspend or modify his attacks on
the Faith and the Church, to break his connection with France and withdraw
from his negotiations with the Germans, if securities could be taken that
the Queen and Princess should not be compelled to sign or promise anything
without the Emperor's consent, the evident sense of the Spanish Council of
State was that the proceedings against the King should be suspended,
perhaps for his life, and that no stipulations should be insisted on,
either for the King's return to the Church or for his consent to the
meeting of the General Council. God might perhaps work on the King's
conscience without threat of force or violence; and the Emperor, before
starting on his expedition to Tunis, might tell the English Ambassador
that he wished to be the King's friend, and would not go to war with any
Christian Prince unless he was compelled. The Queen's consent would, of
course, be necessary; she and the Princess would be more miserable than
ever if they were made to believe that there was no help for them.[330]
But their consent, if there was no alternative, might be assumed when a
refusal would be useless.

If the willingness to make concessions was the measure of the respective
anxieties for an agreement between the two countries, Spain was more eager
than England, for the Emperor was willing to yield the point on which he
had broken the unity of Christendom and content himself with words, while
Henry would yield nothing, except the French alliance, for which he had
cared little from the time that France had refused to follow him into
schism.

An alliance of the Emperor with an excommunicated sovereign in the face of
a sentence which he had himself insisted on, and with a Bull of Deposition
ready for launching, would be an insult to the Holy See more dangerous to
it than the revolt of a single kingdom. The treaty might, however, have
been completed on the terms which Wallop and the Imperial Ambassador had
agreed on at Paris, and which the Imperial Council had not rejected. The
Pope saw the peril, struck in, and made it impossible. In the trial and
execution of the Carthusians Henry had shown to Europe that he was himself
in earnest. The blood of martyrs was the seed of the Church, and Paul
calculated rightly that he could not injure the King of England more
effectually than by driving him to fresh severities and thus provoking an
insurrection. No other explanation can be given for his having chosen this
particular moment for an act which must and would produce the desired
consequence. Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More had been allowed six weeks
to consider whether they would acknowledge the Statute of Supremacy. More
was respected by every one, except the Lutherans, whom he confessed that
he hated; Fisher was regarded as a saint by the Catholic part of England;
and the King, who was dependent after all on the support of his subjects
and could not wish to shock or alienate them, would probably have pressed
them no further, unless challenged by some fresh provocation. Fisher had
waded deep into treason, but, if the King knew it, there was no evidence
which could be produced. Before the six weeks were expired the Court and
the world were astonished to hear that Paul had created the Bishop of
Rochester a cardinal, and that the hat was already on the way. Casalis,
who foresaw the consequences, had protested against the appointment, both
to the Pope and the Consistory. Paul pretended to be frightened. He begged
Casalis to excuse him to the King. He professed, what it was impossible to
believe, that he had intended to pay England a compliment. A general
Council was to meet. He wished England to be represented there by a
Prelate whom he understood to be distinguished for learning and sanctity.
The Roman Pontiffs have had a chequered reputation, but the weakest of
them has never been suspected of a want of worldly acuteness. The
condition of England was as well understood at Rome as it was understood
by Chapuys, and, with Dr. Ortiz at his ear, Paul must have been acquainted
with the disposition of every peer and prelate in the realm. Fisher's name
had been familiar through the seven years' controversy as of the one
English Bishop who had been constant in resistance to every step of
Henry's policy. Paul, who had just absolved Silken Thomas for the
Archbishop of Dublin's murder, had little to learn about the conspiracy,
or about Fisher's share in it. The excuse was an insolence more affronting
than the act itself. It was impossible for the King to acknowledge himself
defied and defeated. He said briefly that he would send Fisher's head to
Rome, for the hat to be fitted on it. Sir Thomas More, as Fisher's dearest
friend, connected with him in opposition to the Reformation and sharing
his imprisonment for the same actions, was involved along with him in the
fatal effects of the Pope's cunning or the Pope's idiotcy. The six weeks
ran out. The Bishop and the ex-Chancellor were called again before the
Council, refused to acknowledge the supremacy, and were committed for
trial.

The French and English Commissioners had met and parted at Calais. Nothing
had been concluded there, as Cromwell said with pleasure to Chapuys,
prejudicial to the Emperor; but as to submitting the King's conduct to a
Council, Cromwell reiterated that it was not to be thought of. Were there
no other reason, the hatred borne to him by all the English _prestraylle_
for having pulled down the tyranny of the Church and tried to reform them,
would be cause sufficient. The Council would be composed of clergy. More
than this, and under the provocation of the fresh insult, Cromwell said
that neither the King nor his subjects would recognise any Council
convoked by the Pope. A Council convoked by the Emperor they would
acknowledge, but a Papal Council never. They intended to make the Church
of England a true and singular mirror to all Christendom.[331]

Paul can hardly have deliberately contemplated the results of what he had
done. He probably calculated, either that Henry would not dare to go to
extremities with a person of so holy a reputation as Bishop Fisher, or
that the threat of it would force Fisher's and the Queen's friends into
the field in time to save him. They had boasted that the whole country
was with them, and the Pope had taken them at their word. Yet his own mind
misgave him. The Nuncio at Paris was directed to beg Francis to intercede.
Francis said he would do his best, but feared the "hat" would prove the
Bishop's death. Henry, Francis said, was not always easy to deal with. He
almost treated him as a subject. He was the strangest man in the world. He
feared he could do no good with him.[332] There was not the least
likelihood that the King would allow the interposition either of Francis
or of any one. The crime created by the Act of Supremacy was the denial by
word or act of the King's sovereignty, ecclesiastical or civil, and the
object was to check and punish seditious speaking or preaching. As the Act
was first drafted, to speak at all against the supremacy brought an
offender under the penalties. The House of Commons was unwilling to make
mere language into high treason, and a strong attempt was made to
introduce the word "maliciously." Men might deny that the King was Head of
the Church in ignorance or inadvertence; and an innocent opinion was not a
proper subject for severity. But persons who had exposed themselves to
suspicion might be questioned, and their answers interpreted by collateral
evidence, to prove disloyal intention. Chapuys's letters leave no doubt of
Fisher's real disloyalty. But his desire to bring in an Imperial army was
shared by half the Peers, and, if proof of it could be produced, their
guilty consciences might drive them into open rebellion. It was
ascertained that Fisher and More had communicated with each other in the
Tower on the answers which they were to give. But other points had risen
for which Fisher was not prepared. Among the papers found in his study
were letters in an unknown hand addressed to Queen Catherine, which
apparently the Bishop was to have forwarded to her, but had been prevented
by his arrest. They formed part of a correspondence between the Queen and
some Foreign Prince, carried on through a reverend father spoken of as E.
R. ... alluding to things which "no mortal man was to know besides those
whom it behoved," and to another letter which E. R. had received of the
Bishop himself. Fisher was asked who wrote these letters: "Who was E. R.?
Who was the Prince?" What those things were which no mortal was to know?
If trifles, why the secrecy, and from whom were they to be concealed? What
were the letters which had been received from the Bishop himself to be
sent oversea? The letters found contained also a request to know whether
Catherine wished the writer to proceed to other Princes in Germany and
solicit them; and again a promise that the writer would maintain her cause
among good men there, and would let her know what he could succeed in
bringing to pass with the Princes.

The Bishop was asked whether, saving his faith and allegiance, he ought to
have assisted a man who was engaged in such enterprises, and why he
concealed a matter which he knew to be intended against the King; how the
letter came into his hands, who sent it, who brought it. If the Bishop
refused to answer or equivocated, he was to understand that the King knew
the truth, for he had proof in his hands. The writer was crafty and subtle
and had promised to spend his labour with the Princes that they should
take in hand to defend the Lady Catherine's cause.

The King held the key to the whole mystery. The mine had been undermined.
The intended rebellion was no secret to Henry or to Cromwell. Catherine, a
divorced wife, and a Spanish princess, owed no allegiance in England. But
Fisher was an English subject, and conscience is no excuse for treason,
until the treason succeeds.

Fisher answered warily, but certainly untruly, that he could not recollect
the name either of the Prince who wrote the letter which had been
discovered or of the messenger who brought it. It was probably some German
prince, but, as God might help him, he could not say which, unless it was
Ferdinand, King of Hungary. E. R. was not himself, nor did he ever consent
that the writer should attempt anything with the German Princes against
the King.

He had been careful. He had desired Chapuys from the beginning that his
name should not be mentioned, except in cipher. He had perhaps abstained
from directly advising an application to Ferdinand, who could not act
without the Emperor's sanction. His messages to Charles through his
Ambassador even Fisher could scarcely have had the hardiness to deny; but
these messages, if known, were not alleged. The Anglo-Imperial alliance
was on the anvil, and the question was not put to him.[333]

Of Fisher's malice, however, as the law construed it, there was no doubt.
He persisted in his refusal to acknowledge the supremacy of the Crown.
Five days after his examination he was tried at Westminster Hall, and in
the week following he was executed on Tower Hill. He died bravely in a
cause which he believed to be right. To the last he might have saved
himself by submission, but he never wavered. He knew that he could do
better service to the Queen and the Catholic Church by his death than by
his life. Cromwell told Chapuys that "the Bishop of Rome was the cause of
his punishment, for having made a Cardinal of the King's worst enemy." He
was "greatly pitied of the people." The pity would have been less had his
real conduct been revealed.

A nobler victim followed. In the lists of those who were prepared to take
arms against the King there is no mention of the name of Sir Thomas More;
but he had been Fisher's intimate friend and companion, and he could
hardly have been ignorant of a conspiracy with which Fisher had been so
closely concerned; while malice might be inferred without injustice from
an acquaintance with dangerous purposes which he had not revealed. He paid
the penalty of the society to which he had attached himself. He, even more
than the Bishop of Rochester, was the chief of the party most opposed to
the Reformation. He had distinguished himself as Chancellor by his zeal
against the Lutherans, and, if that party had won the day, they would have
gone to work as they did afterwards when Mary became Queen. No one knew
better than More the need in which the Church stood of the surgeon's hand;
no one saw clearer the fox's face under the monk's cowl: but, like other
moderate reformers, he detested impatient enthusiasts who spoilt their
cause by extravagance. He felt towards the Protestantism which was
spreading in England as Burke felt towards the Convention and the Jacobin
Club, and while More lived and defied the statute the vast middle party in
the nation which was yet undecided found encouragement in opposition from
his example. His execution has been uniformly condemned by historians as
an act of wanton tyranny. It was not wanton, and it was not an act of
tyranny. It was an inevitable and painful incident of an infinitely
blessed revolution.

The received accounts of his trial are confirmed with slight additions by
a paper of news from England which was sent to the Imperial Court.

More was charged with having deprived the King of the title of "Supreme
Head of the Church," which had been granted to him by the last Parliament.
He replied that, when questioned by the King's Secretary what he thought
of the statute, he had answered that, being a dead man to the world, he
cared nothing for such things, and he could not be condemned for silence.
The King's Attorney said that all good subjects were bound to answer
without dissimulation or reserve, and silence was the same as speech.
Silence, More objected, was generally taken to mean consent. Whatever his
thoughts might be, he had never uttered them.

He was charged with having exchanged letters with the Bishop of Rochester
in the Tower on the replies which they were to give on their examination.
Each had said that the statute was a sword with two edges, one of which
slew the body, the other the soul. As they had used the same words it was
clear that they were confederated.

More replied that he had answered as his conscience dictated, and had
advised the Bishop to do the same. He did not believe that he had ever
said or done anything maliciously against the statute.

The jury consulted only for a quarter of an hour and returned a verdict of
"guilty." Sentence passed as a matter of course, and then More spoke out.
As he was condemned, he said he would now declare his opinion. He had
studied the question for seven years, and was satisfied that no temporal
lord could be head of the spiritualty. For each bishop on the side of the
Royal Supremacy he could produce a hundred saints. For their Parliament he
had the Councils of a thousand years. For one kingdom he had all the other
Christian Powers. The Bishops had broken their vows; the Parliament had no
authority to make laws against the unity of Christendom, and had capitally
sinned in making them. His crime had been his opposition to the second
marriage of the King. He had faith, however, that, as St. Paul persecuted
St. Stephen, yet both were now in Paradise, so he and his judges, although
at variance in this world, would meet in charity hereafter.[334]

The end came quickly. The trial was on the 1st of July; on the 6th the
head fell of one of the most interesting men that England ever produced.
Had the supremacy been a question of opinion, had there been no conspiracy
to restore by arms the Papal tyranny, no clergy and nobles entreating the
landing of an army like that which wasted Flanders at the command of the
Duke of Alva, no Irish nobles murdering Archbishops and receiving Papal
absolution for it, to have sent Sir Thomas More to the scaffold for
believing the Pope to be master of England would have been a barbarous
murder, deserving the execration which has been poured upon it. An age
which has no such perils to alarm its slumbers forgets the enemies which
threatened to waste the country with fire and sword, and admires only the
virtues which remain fresh for all time; we, too, if exposed to similar
possibilities might be no more merciful than our forefathers.

The execution of Fisher and More was the King's answer to Papal thunders
and domestic conspirators, and the effect was electric. Darcy again
appealed to Chapuys, praying that the final sentence should be instantly
issued. He did not wish to wait any longer for Imperial aid. The Pope
having spoken, the country would now rise of itself. The clergy would
furnish all the money needed for a beginning, and a way might be found to
seize the gold in the treasury. Time pressed. They must get to work at
once. If they loitered longer the modern preachers and prelates would
corrupt the people, and all would be lost.[335] Cifuentes wrote from Rome
to the Emperor that the Bishop of Paris was on his way there with
proposals from Francis for an arrangement with England which would be
fatal to the Queen, the Church, and the morals of Christendom. He begged
to be allowed to press the Pope to hold in readiness a brief deposing
Henry; a brief which, if once issued, could not be recalled.[336]




CHAPTER XIX.

Campaign of the Emperor in Africa--Uncertainties at Rome--Policy of
Francis--English preparations for war--Fresh appeals to the Emperor--Delay
in the issue of the censures--The Princess Mary--Letter of Catherine to
the Pope--Disaffection of the English Catholics--Libels against Henry,
Cromwell, and Chapuys--Lord Thomas Fitzgerald--Dangerous position of
Henry--Death of the Duke of Milan--Effect on European policy--Intended
Bull of Paul III.--Indecision of Charles--Prospect of war with France--
Advice of Charles to Catherine--Distrust of the Emperor at the Papal
Court--Warlike resolution of the Pope restrained by the Cardinals.


Cifuentes had been misinformed when he feared that Francis was again about
to interpose in Henry's behalf at Rome. The conference at Calais had
broken up without definite results. The policy of France was to draw Henry
off from his treaty with the Emperor; Henry preferred to play the two
great Catholic Powers one against the other, and commit himself to
neither; and Francis, knowing the indignation which Fisher's execution
would produce at Rome, was turning his thoughts on other means of
accomplishing his purpose. The Emperor's African campaign was splendidly
successful--too successful to be satisfactory at the Vatican. The Pope, as
the head of Christendom, was bound to express pleasure at the defeat of
the Infidels, but he feared that Charles, victorious by land and sea,
might give him trouble in his own dominions.[337] A settled purpose,
however, remained to punish the English King, and Henry had need to be
careful. The French faction in the Council wished him to proceed at once
to extremities with the Princess, which would effectually end the hopes of
an Imperial alliance. Anne Boleyn was continually telling the King that
the Queen and Princess were his greatest danger. "They deserved death more
than those who had been lately executed, since they were the cause of all
the mischief."[338] Chapuys found himself no longer able to communicate
with Mary, from the increased precaution in guarding her. It was alleged
that there was a fear of her being carried off by the French.

The Imperial party at Rome, not knowing what to do or to advise, drew a
curious memorandum for Charles's consideration. The Emperor, they said,
had been informed when the divorce case was being tried at Rome, _that
England was a fief of the Church of Rome_, and as the King had defied the
Apostolic See, he deserved to be deprived of his crown. The Emperor had
not approved of a step so severe. But the King had now beheaded the Bishop
of Rochester, whom the Pope had made a cardinal. On the news of the
execution the Pope and Cardinals had moved that he should be deprived at
once and without more delay for this and for his other crimes. Against
taking such action was the danger to the Queen of which they were greatly
afraid, and also the sense that if, after sentence, the crown of England
devolved on the Holy See, injury might be done to the prospects of the
Princess. It might be contrived that the Pope in depriving the King might
assign the crown to his daughter, or the Pope in consistory might declare
secretly that they were acting in favour of the Princess and without
prejudice to her claim. To this, however, there was the objection that
the King might hear of it through some of the Cardinals. Something at any
rate had to be done. All courses were dangerous. The Emperor was requested
to decide.[339]

A new ingredient was now to be thrown into the political cauldron. So far
from wishing to reconcile England with the Papacy, the Pope informed
Cifuentes that Francis was now ready and willing to help the Apostolic See
in the execution of the sentence against the King of England. Francis
thought that the Emperor ought to begin, since the affair was his personal
concern; but when the first step was taken Francis himself would be at the
Pope's disposition. The meaning of this, in the opinion of Cifuentes, was
merely to entangle the Emperor in a war with England, and so to leave him.
The Pope himself thought so too. Francis had been heard to say that when
the Emperor had opened the campaign he would come next and do what was
most for his own interest. The Pope, however, said, as Clement had said
before him, that, if Charles and Francis would only act together against
England, the "execution" could be managed satisfactorily. Cifuentes
replied that he had no commission to enter into that question. He reported
what had passed to his master, and said that he would be in no haste to
urge the Pope to further measures.[340]

Henry had expected nothing better from France. He had dared the Pope to do
his worst. He stood alone, with no protection save in the jealousy of the
rival Powers, and had nothing to trust to save his own ability to defend
his country and his crown. His chief anxiety was for the security of the
sea. A successful stoppage of trade would, as Cromwell admitted, lead to
confusion and insurrection. Ship after ship was built and launched in the
Thames. The busy note of preparation rang over the realm. The clergy, Lord
Darcy had said, were to furnish money for the rising. The King was taking
precautions to shorten their resources, and turn their revenues to the
protection of the realm. Cromwell's visitors were out over England
examining into the condition of the religious houses, exposing their
abuses and sequestrating their estates. These dishonoured institutions had
been found to be "very stews of unnatural crime" through the length and
breadth of England. Their means of mischief were taken away from such
worthless and treacherous communities. Crown officials were left in
charge, and their final fate was reserved for Parliament.

Henry, meanwhile, confident in his subjects, and taking lightly the
dangers which threatened him, went on progress along the Welsh borders,
hunting, visiting, showing himself everywhere, and received with apparent
enthusiasm. The behaviour of the people perplexed Chapuys. "I am told," he
wrote, "that in the districts where he has been, a good part of the
peasantry, after hearing the Court preachers, are abused into the belief
that he was inspired by God to separate himself from his brother's wife.
They are but idiots. They will return soon enough to the truth when there
are any signs of change." They would not return, nor were they the fools
he thought them. The clergy, Chapuys himself confessed it, had made
themselves detested by the English commons for their loose lives and the
tyranny of the ecclesiastical courts. The monasteries, too many of them,
were nests of infamy and fraud, and the King whom the Catholic world
called Antichrist appeared as a deliverer from an odious despotism.

At Rome there was still uncertainty. The Imperial memorandum explains the
cause of the hesitation. The Emperor was engaged in Africa, and could
decide nothing till his return. The great Powers were divided on the
partition of the bear's skin, while the bear was still unstricken. Why,
asked the impatient English Catholics, did not the Pope strike and make an
end of him when even Francis, who had so long stayed his hand, was now
urging him to proceed? Francis was probably as insincere as Cifuentes
believed him to be. But the mere hope of help from such a quarter gave
fresh life to the wearied Catherine and her agents.

"The Pope," wrote Dr. Ortiz to the Emperor, "has committed the deprivation
of the King of England and the adjudication of the realm to the Apostolic
See as a fief of the Church to Cardinals Campeggio, Simoneta, and Cesis.
The delay in granting the executorials in the principal cause is
wonderful. Although the deposition of the King was spoken of so hotly in
the Consistory, and they wrote about it to all the Princes, they will only
proceed with delay and with a monition to the King to be intimated in
neighbouring countries. This is needless. His heresy, schism, and other
crimes are notorious. He may be deprived without the delay of a monition.
If it is pressed, it is to be feared it will be on the side of France. It
is a wonderful revenge which the King of France has taken on the King of
England, to favour him until he has fallen into schism and heresy, and
then to forsake him in it, to delude him as far as the gallows, and to
leave him to hang. The blood of the saints whom that King has martyred
calls to God for justice."[341]

Catherine, sick with hope deferred and tired of the Emperor's hesitation,
was catching at the new straw which was floating by her. Ortiz must have
kept her informed of the French overtures at the Vatican. She prayed the
Regent Mary to use her influence with the French Queen. Now was the time
for Francis to show himself a true friend of his brother of England, and
assist in delivering him from a state of sin.[342]

Strange rumours were current in France and in England to explain the delay
of the censures. The Pope had confessed himself alarmed at the
completeness of Charles's success at Tunis. It was thought that the
Emperor, fresh from his victories, might act on the advice of men like
Lope de Soria, take his Holiness himself in hand and abolish the Temporal
Power; that the Pope knew it, and therefore feared to make matters worse
by provoking England further.[343]

Pope and Princes might watch each other in distrust at a safe distance;
but to the English conspirators the long pause was life or death. Delays
are usually fatal with intended rebellion. The only safety is in immediate
action. Enthusiasm cools, and secrets are betrayed. Fisher's fate was a
fresh spur to them to move, but it also proved that the Government knew
too much and did not mean to flinch.

Chapuys tried Granvelle again. "Every man of position here," he said, "is
in despair at the Pope's inaction. If something is not done promptly there
will be no hope for the ladies, or for religion either, which is going
daily to destruction. Things are come to such a pass that at some places
men even preach against the Sacrament. The Emperor is bound to interfere.
What he has done in Africa he can do in England with far more ease and
with incomparably more political advantage."[344]

Granvelle could but answer that Henry was a monster, and that God would
undoubtedly punish him; but that for himself he was so busy that he could
scarcely breathe, and that the Emperor continued to hope for some peaceful
arrangement.

Cifuentes meanwhile kept his hand on Paul. His task was difficult, for his
orders were to prevent the issue of the executorials for fear France
should act upon them, while Catholic Christendom would be shaken to its
base if it became known that it was the Emperor who was preventing the
Holy See from avenging itself. Even with the Pope Cifuentes could not be
candid, and Ortiz, working on Paul's jealousy and unable to comprehend the
obstacle, had persuaded his Holiness to draw up "the brief of execution"
and furnish a copy to himself.[345]

"In the matter of the executory letters," Cifuentes wrote to Charles, "I
have strictly followed your Majesty's instructions. They have been kept
back for a year and a half without the least appearance that the delay
proceeded from us, but, on the contrary, as if we were disappointed that
they were not drawn when asked for. Besides his Holiness's wish to wait
for the result of the offers of France, another circumstance has served
your Majesty's purpose. There were certain clauses to which I could not
consent, in the draft shown to me, as detrimental to the right of the
Queen and Princess and to your Majesty's preëminence.

"Now that all hope has vanished of the return of the King of England to
obedience, Dr. Ortiz, not knowing that you wished the execution to be
delayed, has taken out the executory letters and almost despatched them
while I was absent at Perugia. The letters are ready, nothing being wanted
but the Pope's seal. I have detained them for a few days, pretending that
I must examine the wording. They will remain in my possession till you
inform me of your pleasure."[346]

The issue of the Pope's censures either in the form of a letter of
execution or of a Bull of Deposition was to be the signal of the English
rising, with or without the Emperor. Darcy and his friends were ready and
resolved to begin. But without the Pope's direct sanction the movement
would lose its inspiration. The Irish rebellion had collapsed for the want
of it. Lord Thomas Fitzgerald had surrendered and was a prisoner in the
Tower.

It was not the part of a child, however great her imagined wrongs,
deliberately to promote an insurrection against her father. Henry II.'s
sons had done it, but times were changed. The Princess Mary was determined
to justify such of Henry's Council as had recommended the harshest
measures against her. She wrote a letter to Chapuys which, if intercepted,
might have made it difficult for the King to save her.

"The condition of things," she said, "is worse than wretched. The realm
will fall to ruin unless his Majesty, for the service of God, the welfare
of Christendom, the honour of the King my father, and compassion for the
afflicted souls in this country, will take pity on us and apply the
remedy. This I hope and feel assured that he will do if he is rightly
informed of what is taking place. In the midst of his occupations in
Africa he will have been unable to realise our condition. The whole truth
cannot be conveyed in letters. I would, therefore, have you despatch one
of your own people to inform him of everything, and to supplicate him on
the part of the Queen my mother, and myself for the honour of God and for
other respects to attend to and provide for us. In so acting he will
accomplish a service most agreeable to Almighty God. Nor will he win less
fame and glory to himself than he has achieved in the conquest of Tunis or
in all his African expedition."[347]

Catherine simultaneously addressed herself to the Pope in a letter
equally characteristic. The "brief of execution" was the natural close of
her process, which, after judgment in her favour, she was entitled to
demand. The Pope wished her to apply for it, that it might appear to be
granted at her instance and not on his own impulse.

"Most Holy and Blessed Father," she wrote, "I kiss your Holiness's hands.
My letters have been filled with complaints and importunities, and have
been more calculated to give you pain than pleasure. I have therefore for
some time ceased from writing to your Holiness, although my conscience has
reproached me for my silence. One only satisfaction I have in thinking of
the present state of things: I thank unceasingly our Lord Jesus Christ for
having appointed a vicar like your Holiness, of whom so much good is
spoken at a time when Christendom is in so great a strait. God in His
mercy has preserved you for this hour. Once more, therefore, as an
obedient child of the Holy See, I do entreat you to bear this realm in
special mind, to remember the King, my lord and husband, and my daughter.
Your Holiness knows, and all Christendom knows, what things are done here,
what great offence is given to God, what scandal to the world, what
reproach is thrown upon your Holiness. If a remedy be not applied shortly
there will be no end to ruined souls and martyred saints. The good will be
firm and will suffer. The lukewarm will fail if they find none to help
them, and the rest will stray out of the way like sheep that have lost
their shepherd. I place these facts before your Holiness because I know
not any one on whose conscience the deaths of these holy and good men and
the perdition of so many souls ought to weigh more heavily than on yours,
inasmuch as your Holiness neglects to encounter these evils which the
Devil, as we see, has sown among us.

"I write frankly to your Holiness, for the discharge of my own soul, as to
one who, I hope, can feel with me and my daughter for the martyrdoms of
these admirable persons. I have a mournful pleasure in expecting that we
shall follow them in the manner of their torments. And so I end, waiting
for the remedy from God and from your Holiness. May it come speedily. If
not, the time will be past. Our Lord preserve your Holiness's
person."[348]

On the same day and by the same messenger she wrote to Charles,
congratulating him on his African victory, and imploring him, now that he
was at liberty, to urge the Pope into activity. In other words, she was
desiring him to carry fire and sword through England, when if she herself
six years before would have allowed the Pope's predecessor to guide her
and had retired into "religion," there would have been no divorce, no
schism, no martyrs, no dangers of a European convulsion on her account.
Catherine, as other persons have done, had allowed herself to be governed
by her own wounded pride, and called it conscience.

Chapuys conveyed the Queen's arguments both to Charles and to Granvelle.
He again assured them that the Princess and her mother were in real danger
of death. If the Emperor continued to hesitate, he said, after his
splendid victories in Africa, there would be general despair. The
opportunity would be gone, and an enterprise now easy would then be
difficult, if not impossible.

Now was the time. The execution of More and Fisher, the suppression of the
monasteries, the spoliation of the Church, had filled clerical and
aristocratic England with fear and fury. The harvest had failed; and the
failure was interpreted as a judgment from Heaven on the King's conduct.
So sure Chapuys felt that the Emperor would now move that he sent positive
assurances to Catherine that his master would not return to Spain till he
had restored her to her rights. Even the Bishop of Tarbes, who was again
in London, believed that Henry was lost at last. The whole nation, he
said, Peers and commons, and even the King's own servants, were devoted to
the Princess and her mother, and would join any prince who would take up
their cause. The discontent was universal, partly because the Princess was
regarded as the right heir to the crown, partly for fear of war and the
ruin of trade. The autumn had been wet: half the corn was still in the
fields. Queen Anne was universally execrated, and even the King was losing
his love for her. If war was declared, the entire country would rise.[349]

The Pope, it has been seen, had thought of declaring Mary to be Queen in
her father's place. Such a step, if ventured, would inevitably be fatal to
her. Her friends in England wished to see her married to some foreign
prince--if possible, to the Dauphin--that she might be safe and out of the
way. The Princess herself, and even the Emperor, were supposed to desire
the match with the Dauphin, because in such an alliance the disputes with
France might be forgotten, and Charles and the French king might unite to
coerce Henry into obedience.

The wildest charges against Henry were now printed and circulated in
Germany and the Low Countries. Cromwell complained to Chapuys. "Worse," he
said, "could not be said against Jew or Devil." Chapuys replied ironically
that he was sorry such things should be published. The Emperor would do
his best to stop them, but in the general disorder tongues could not be
controlled.

So critical the situation had become in these autumn months that Cromwell,
of course with the King's consent, was obliged to take the unusual step of
interfering with the election of the Lord Mayor of London, alleging that,
with the State in so much peril, it was of the utmost consequence to have
a well-disposed man of influence and experience at the head of the City.

"Cromwell came to me this morning," Chapuys wrote to his master on the
13th of October; "he said the King was informed that the Emperor intended
to attack him in the Pope's name (he called his Holiness, 'bishop of
Rome,' but begged my pardon while he did so,) and that a Legate or Bishop
was coming to Flanders to stir the fire. The King could not believe that
the Emperor had any such real intention after the friendship which he had
shown him, especially when there was no cause. In breaking with the Pope
he had done nothing contrary to the law of God, and religion was nowhere
better regulated and reformed than it was now in England. The King would
send a special embassy to the Emperor, if I thought it would be favourably
received. I said I could not advise so great a Prince. I believed that, if
the object of such an embassy was one which your Majesty could grant in
honour and conscience, it would not only be well received but would be
successful. Otherwise, I could neither recommend nor dissuade."[350]

By the same hand which carried this despatch Chapuys forwarded the letters
of Catherine and Mary, adding another of his own to Granvelle, in which he
said that "if the Emperor wished to give peace and union to Christendom,
he must begin in England. It would be easy, for everyone was irritated.
The King's treasure would pay for all, and would help, besides, for the
enterprise against the Turk. It was time to punish him for his folly and
impiety."[351]

Charles seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion. He had already
written from Messina, on his return from Tunis, both to Chapuys and to his
Ambassador in Paris, that, as long as Henry retained his concubine,
persisted in his divorce, and refused to recognise the Princess as his
heir, he could not honourably treat with him.[352] The Pope, when
Catherine's letter reached him, was fuming with fresh anger at the fate of
the Irish rebellion. Lord Thomas, spite of Papal absolution and blessing,
was a prisoner in the Tower. He had surrendered to his uncle, Lord Leonard
Grey, under some promise of pardon. He had been carried before the King.
For a few days he was left at liberty, and might have been forgiven, if he
would have made a satisfactory submission; but he calculated that "a new
world" was not far off, and that he might hold out in safety. Such a wild
cat required stricter keeping. The Tower gates closed on him, and soon
after he paid for the Archbishop's life with his own.

Ortiz, when he heard that Fitzgerald was imprisoned, said that the choice
lay before him to die a martyr or else to be perverted. God, he hoped,
would permit the first. The spirit of one of the murdered Carthusians had
appeared to the brotherhood and informed them of the glorious crown which
had been bestowed on Fisher.[353]

In this exalted humour Catherine's letter found Paul and the Roman clergy.
The Pope had already informed Cifuentes that he meant to proceed to
"deprivation." The letters of execution had been so drawn or re-drawn as
to involve the forfeiture of Henry's throne,[354] and Ortiz considered
that Providence had so ordered it that the Pope was now acting _motu
proprio_ and not at the Queen's solicitation. Cifuentes was of opinion,
however, that Paul meant to wait for the Queen's demand, that the
responsibility might be hers. Chapuys's courier was ordered to deliver
Catherine's letter into the Pope's own hands. Cifuentes took the liberty
of detaining it till the Emperor's pleasure was known. But no one any
longer doubted that the time was come. France and England were no longer
united, and the word for action was to be spoken at last.

At no period of his reign had Henry been in greater danger. At home the
public mind was unsettled. A large and powerful faction of peers and
clergy were prepared for revolt, and abroad he had no longer an ally.
England seemed on the eve of a conflict the issue of which no one could
foresee. At this moment Providence, or the good luck which had so long
befriended him, interposed to save the King and save the Reformation.

Sforza, Duke of Milan and husband of Christina of Denmark, died childless
on the 24th of October. Milan was the special subject of difference
between France and the Empire. The dispute had been suspended while the
Duke was alive. His death reopened the question, and the war long looked
for for the Milan succession became inevitable and immediately imminent.

The entire face of things was now changed. Francis had, perhaps, never
seriously meant to join in executing the Papal sentence against England;
but he had intended to encourage the Emperor to try, that he might fish
himself afterwards in the troubled waters, and probably snatch at Calais.
He now required Henry for a friend again, and the old difficulties and the
old jealousies were revived in the usual form. Both the great Catholic
Powers desired the suspension of the censures. The Emperor was again
unwilling to act as the Pope's champion while he was uncertain of the
French King. Francis wished to recover his position as Henry's defender.
The Pope was an Italian prince as well as sovereign of the Church, and his
secular interest was thought to be more French than Imperial.

No sooner was Sforza gone than the Cardinal Du Bellay and the Bishop of
Mâcon were despatched from Paris to see and talk with Paul. They found him
still too absorbed in the English question to attend to anything besides.
He was in the high exalted mood of Gregory VII., imagining that he was
about to reassert the ancient Papal prerogative, and again dispose of
kingdoms.

The Pope, wrote the French Commissioners, having heard that there was
famine and plague in England, had made up his mind to act, and was
incredibly excited. The sentence was prepared and was to issue
unexpectedly like a bolt out of the blue sky. They enclosed a copy of it,
and waited for instructions from Francis as to the line which they were to
take. To set things straight again would, they said, be almost impossible;
but they would do their best to prevent extremities, and to show the King
of England that they had endeavoured to serve him. Nothing like the
sentence which Paul had constructed had been ever seen before. Some
articles had been inserted to force Francis to choose between the Pope and
the King. They were malicious, unjust, and _terriblement enormes_.[355]

The new Hildebrand, applying to himself the words of Jeremiah, "Behold, I
have set thee over nations and kingdoms, that thou mayest root out and
destroy," had proceeded to root out Henry. He had cursed him; he cursed
his abettors. His body when he died was to lie unburied and his soul lie
in hell for ever. His subjects were ordered to renounce their allegiance,
and were to fall under interdict if they continued to obey him. No true
son of the Church was to hold intercourse or alliance with him or his
adherents, under pain of sharing his damnation; and the Princes of Europe
and the Peers and commons of England were required, on their allegiance to
the Holy See, to expel him from the throne.[356]

This was the "remedy" for which Catherine had been so long entreating, out
of affection for her misguided lord, whose soul she wished to save. The
love which she professed was a love which her lord could have dispensed
with.

The Papal Nuncio reported from Paris the attitude which France intended
to assume. He had been speaking with the Admiral Philip de Chabot about
England. The Admiral had admitted that the King had doubtless done violent
things, and that the Pope had a right to notice them. France did not wish
to defend him against the Pope, but, if he was attacked by the Emperor,
would certainly take his part. The Nuncio said that he had pointed out
that the King of England had God for an enemy; that he was, therefore,
going to total ruin; and that the Pope had hoped to find in Francis a
champion of the Church. The Admiral said that, of course, England ought to
return to the faith: the Pope could deal with him hereafter; but France
must take care of her own interests.[357]

Charles, too, was uneasy and undecided. Until the Milan question had been
reopened the French had spoken as if they would no longer stand between
Henry and retribution, but he was now assured that they would return to
their old attitude. They had stood by Henry through the long controversy
of the divorce. Even when Fisher was sent to the scaffold they had not
broken their connection with him. The King, he knew, was frightened, and
would yield, if France was firm; but, unless the Pope had a promise from
the French King under his own hand to assist in executing the censures,
the Pope would find himself disappointed; and the fear was that Francis
would draw the Emperor into a war with England and then leave him to make
his own bargain.[358]

Kings whose thrones and lives are threatened cannot afford to be lenient.
Surrounded by traitors, uncertain of France, with the danger in which he
stood immeasurably increased by the attitude of Catherine and her
daughter, the King, so the Marchioness of Exeter reported to Chapuys, had
been heard to say that they must bend or break. The anxiety which they
were causing was not to be endured any longer. Parliament was about to
meet, and their situation would have then to be considered.[359]

The Marchioness entreated him to let the Emperor know of this, and tell
him that, if he waited longer, he would be too late to save them. Chapuys
took care that these alarming news should lose nothing in the relating.
Again, after a fortnight, Lady Exeter came to him, disguised, to renew the
warning. The "she-devil of a Concubine," she said, was thinking of nothing
save of how to get the ladies despatched. The Concubine ruled the Council,
and the King was afraid to contradict her. The fear was, as Chapuys said,
that he would make the Parliament a joint party with him in his cruelties,
and that, losing hope of pardon from the Emperor, they would be more
determined to defend themselves.[360]

The danger, if danger there was, to Catherine and Mary, was Chapuys's own
creation. It was he who had encouraged them in defying the King, that they
might form a visible rallying-point to the rebellion. Charles was more
rational than the Ambassador, and less credulous of Henry's wickedness. "I
cannot believe what you tell me," he replied to his Ambassador's
frightful story. "The King cannot be so unnatural as to put to death his
own wife and daughter. The threats you speak of can only be designed to
terrify them. They must not give way, if it can be avoided; but, if they
are really in danger, and there is no alternative, you may tell them from
me that they must yield. A submission so made cannot prejudice their
rights. They can protest that they are acting under compulsion, in fear
for their lives. I will take care that their protestation is duly ratified
by their proctors at Rome."[361] Chapuys was a politician, and obeyed his
orders. But that either Catherine or her daughter should give way was the
last wish either of him or of Ortiz, or any of the fanatical enthusiasts.
Martyrs were the seed of the Church. If Mary abandoned her claim to the
succession, her name could no longer be used as a battle-cry. The object
was a revolution which would shake Henry from his throne. On the scaffold,
as a victim to her fidelity to her mother and to the Holy See, she would
give an impulse to the insurrection which nothing could resist.

The croaks of the raven were each day louder. Lady Exeter declared that
the King had said that the Princess should be an example that no one
should disobey the law. There was a prophecy of him that at the beginning
of his reign he would be gentle as a lamb, and at the end worse than a
lion. That prophecy he meant to fulfil.[362]

Ortiz, who had his information from Catherine herself, said that she was
preparing to die as the Bishop of Rochester and the others had died. She
regretted only that her life had not been as holy as theirs. The
"kitchen-wench"--as Ortiz named Anne--had often said of the Princess that
either Mary would be her death or she would be Mary's, and that she would
take care that Mary did not laugh at her after she was gone.[363]

Stories flying at such a time were half of them the creation of rage and
panic, imperfectly believed by those who related them, and reported to
feed a fire which it was so hard to kindle; but they show the spirit of
which the air was full. At Rome there was still distrust. Francis had
shown the copy of the intended sentence to the different Ambassadors at
Paris. He had said that the Pope was claiming a position for the Apostolic
See which could not be allowed, and must be careful what he did.[364] Paul
agreed with the Emperor that, before the sentence was delivered, pledges
to assist must be exacted from Francis, but had thought that he might
calculate with sufficient certainty on the hereditary enmity between
France and England. Cifuentes told him that he must judge of the future by
the past. The French were hankering after Italy, and other things were
nothing in comparison. The Pope hinted that the Emperor was said to be
treating privately with Henry. Cifuentes could give a flat denial to this,
for the treaty had been dropped. If the Emperor, however, resolved to
undertake the execution Francis was not to be allowed to hear of it, as he
would use the knowledge to set Henry on his guard.[365]

Chapuys was a master of the art of conveying false impressions while
speaking literal truth.

Francis, who, in spite of Cifuentes, learnt what was being projected at
Rome, warned Henry that the Emperor was about to invade England. He even
said that the Emperor had promised that, if he would not interfere, the
English crown might be secured to a French prince by a marriage with Mary.
Cromwell questioned Chapuys on such "strange news." Lying cost Chapuys
nothing. The story was true, but he replied that it was wild nonsense. Not
only had the Emperor never said such a thing, but he had never even
thought of anything to the King's prejudice, and had always been
solicitous for the honour and tranquillity of England. The Emperor wished
to increase, not diminish, the power of the King, and even for the sake of
the Queen and Princess he would not wish the King to be expelled, knowing
the love they bore him. Cromwell said he had always told the King that the
Emperor would attempt nothing against him unless he was forced. Chapuys
agreed: so far, he said, from promoting hostilities against the King, the
Emperor, ever since the sentence on the divorce, had held back the
execution, and, if further measures were taken, they would be taken by the
Pope and Cardinals, not by the Emperor.[366]

In this last intimation Chapuys was more correct than he was perhaps aware
of.

The Pope, sick of the irresolutions and mutual animosities of the great
Catholic Powers, had determined to act for himself. Catherine's friends
had his ear. They at all events knew their own minds. On the 10th of
December he called a consistory, said that he had suffered enough in the
English cause, and would bear it no more. He required the opinions of the
Cardinals on the issue of the executorial brief. The scene is described
by Du Bellay, who was one of them, and was present. The Cardinals, who had
been debating and disagreeing for seven years, were still in favour of
further delays. They all felt that a brief or bull deposing the King was a
step from which there would be no retreat. The Great Powers, they were
well aware, would resent the Pope's assumption of an authority so
arrogant. All but one of them said that before the executory letters were
published a monition must first be sent to the King. The language of the
letters, besides, was too comprehensive. The King's subjects and the
King's allies were included in the censures, and, not being in fault,
ought not to suffer. Voices, too, were heard to say that kings were
privileged persons, and ought not to be treated with disrespect.

The Pope, before dissatisfied with their objections, now in high anger at
the last suggestion, declared that he would spare neither emperors, nor
kings, nor princes. God had placed him over them all; the Papal authority
was not diminished--it was greater than ever, and would be greater still
when there was a pope who dared to act without faction or cowardice. He
reproached the Cardinals with embroiling a clear matter. The brief, he
maintained, was a good brief, faulty perhaps in style, but right in
substance, and approved it was to be, and at once.

It hit all round--hit the English people who continued loyal to their
sovereign, hit the Continental Powers who had treaties with Henry which
they had not broken. The Cardinals thought the Pope would spoil
everything. Campeggio said such a Bull touched the French King, and must
not appear. The Archbishop of Capua went with the Pope: "Issue at once,"
he said, "or the King will be sending protests, as he did in Clement's
time." The Pope spoke in great anger, but to no purpose. The majority of
the Cardinals was against him, and the Bull was allowed to sleep till a
more favourable time. "It is long," said Du Bellay, "since there has been
a Pope less loved by the College, the Romans, and the world."[367]




CHAPTER XX.

Illness of Queen Catherine--Her physician's report of her health--Her last
letter to the Emperor--She sends for Chapuys--Interview between Chapuys
and Henry--Chapuys at Kimbolton--Death of Catherine--Examination of the
body--Suspicion of poison--Chapuys's opinion--Reception of the news at the
Court--Message of Anne Boleyn to the Princess Mary--Advice of Chapuys--
Unpopularity of Anne--Court rumours.


While the Pope was held back by the Cardinals, and the Great Powers were
watching each other, afraid to move, the knot was about to be cut, so far
as it affected the fortunes of Catherine of Aragon, in a manner not
unnatural and, by Cromwell and many others, not unforeseen. The agitation
and anxieties of the protracted conflict had shattered her health. Severe
attacks of illness had more than once caused fear for her life, and a few
months previously her recovery had been thought unlikely, if not
impossible. Cromwell had spoken of her death to Chapuys as a contingency
which would be useful to the peace of Europe, and which he thought would
not be wholly unwelcome to her nephew. Politicians in the sixteenth
century were not scrupulous, and Chapuys may perhaps have honestly thought
that such language suggested a darker purpose. But Cromwell had always
been Catherine's friend within the limits permitted by his duty to the
King and the Reformation. The words which Chapuys attributed to him were
capable of an innocent interpretation; and it is in the highest degree
unlikely that he, of all men, was contemplating a crime of which the
danger would far outweigh the advantage, and which would probably
anticipate for a few weeks or months only a natural end, or that, if he
had seriously entertained such an intention, he would have made a
confidant of the Spanish Ambassador. Catherine had been wrought during the
autumn months into a state of the highest excitement. Her letters to the
Pope had been the outpourings of a heart driven near to breaking; and if
Chapuys gave her Charles's last message, if she was told that it was the
Emperor's pleasure that she and her daughter must submit, should
extremities be threatened against them, she must have felt a bitter
conviction that the remedy which she had prayed for would never be
applied, and that the struggle would end in an arrangement in which she
would herself be sacrificed.

The life at Kimbolton was like the life at an ordinary well-appointed
English country-house. The establishment was moderate, but the castle was
in good condition and well-furnished; everything was provided which was
required for personal comfort; the Queen had her own servants, her
confessor, her physician, and two or three ladies-in-waiting; if she had
not more state about her it was by her own choice, for, as has been seen,
she had made her recognition as queen the condition of her accepting a
more adequate establishment. Bodily hardships she had none to suffer, but
she had a chronic disorder of long standing, which had been aggravated by
the high-strung expectations of the last half-dozen years. Sir John
Wallop, the English ambassador at Paris, had been always "her good
servant;" Lady Wallop was her _creatura_ and was passionately attached to
her. From the Wallops the Nuncio at the French Court heard in the middle
of December that she could not live more than six months. They had learnt
the "secret" of her illness from her own physician, and their evident
grief convinced him that they were speaking the truth. Francis also was
aware of her condition; the end was known to be near, and it was thought
in Court circles that when she was gone "the King would leave his present
queen and return to the obedience of the Church."[368]

The disorder from which Catherine was suffering had been mentioned by
Cromwell to Chapuys. The Ambassador asked to be allowed to visit her.
Cromwell said that he might send a servant at once to Kimbolton, to
ascertain her condition, and that he would ask the King's permission for
himself to follow. The alarming symptoms passed off for the moment; she
rallied from the attack, and on the 13th of December she was able to write
to Ortiz, to tell him of the comfort and encouragement which she had
received from his letters, and from the near prospect of the Pope's
action. In that alone lay the remedy for the sufferings of herself and her
daughter and "all the good." The Devil, she said, was but half-tied, and
slackness would let him loose. She could not and dared not speak more
clearly; Ortiz was a wise man, and would understand.[369]

On the same day she wrote her last letter to the Emperor. The handwriting,
once bold and powerful, had grown feeble and tremulous, and the
imperfectly legible lines convey only that she expected something to be
done at the approaching parliament which would be a world's scandal and
her own and her daughter's destruction.[370]

Finding herself a little better, she desired Chapuys to speak to Cromwell
about change of air for her, and to ask for a supply of money to pay the
servants' wages. Money was a gratuitous difficulty: she had refused to
take anything which was addressed to her as princess dowager, and the
allowance was in arrears. She had some confidence in Cromwell, and
Charles, too, believed, in spite of Chapuys's stories, that Cromwell meant
well to Catherine, and wished to help her. He wrote himself to Cromwell to
say that his loyal service would not be forgotten.[371]

Chapuys heard no more from Kimbolton for a fortnight, and was hoping that
the attack had gone off like those which had preceded it; on the 29th,
however, there came a letter to him from the Spanish physician, saying
that she was again very ill, and wished to see him. Chapuys went to
Cromwell immediately. Cromwell assured him that no objection would be
raised, but that, before he set out, the King desired to speak with him.
He hurried to Greenwich, where the Court was staying, and found Henry more
than usually gracious, but apparently absorbed in politics. He walked up
and down the room with his arm around the Ambassador's neck, complained
that Charles had not written to him, and that he did not know what to look
for at his hands. The French, he said, were making advances to him, and
had become so pressing, since the death of the Duke of Milan, that he
would be forced to listen to them, unless he could be satisfied of the
Emperor's intentions. He was not to be deluded into a position where he
would lose the friendship of both of them. Francis was burning for war.
For himself he meant honourably, and would be perfectly open with Chapuys:
he was an Englishman, he did not say one thing when he meant another. Why
had not the Emperor let him know distinctly whether he would treat with
him or not?

Chapuys hinted a fear that he had been playing with the Emperor only to
extort better terms from France. A war for Milan there might possibly be,
but the Emperor after his African successes was stronger than he had ever
been, and had nothing to fear.

All that might be very well, Henry said, but if he was to throw his sword
into the scale the case might be different. Hitherto, however, he had
rejected the French overtures, and did not mean to join France in an
Italian campaign if the Emperor did not force him. As to the threats
against himself, English commerce would of course suffer severely if the
trade was stopped with the Low Countries, but he could make shift
elsewhere; he did not conceal his suspicions that the Emperor meant him
ill, or his opinion that he had been treated unfairly in the past.[372]

Chapuys enquired what he wished the Emperor to do. To abstain, the King
replied, from encouraging the Princess and her mother in rebellion, and to
require the revocation of the sentence which had been given on the
divorce. The Emperor could not do that, Chapuys rejoined, even if he
wished to do it. The King said he knew the Pope had called on the Emperor
to execute the sentence; he did not believe, however, that Madame, as he
called Catherine, had long to live, and, when she was gone, the Emperor
would have no further excuse for interfering in English affairs. Chapuys
replied that the Queen's death would make no difference. The sentence had
been a necessity. The King ended the conversation by telling him that he
might go to see her, if he liked; but she was _in extremis_, and he would
hardly find her alive. At the Princess's request, Chapuys asked if she
also might go to her mother. At first Henry refused, but said, after a
moment, he would think about it, and added, as Chapuys afterwards
recollected, a few words of kindness to Catherine herself.

Unfeeling and brutal, the world exclaims. More feeling may have been
shown, perhaps, than Chapuys cared to note. But kings whose thrones are
menaced with invasion and rebellion have not much leisure for personal
emotions. Affection for Catherine Henry had none, however, and a pretence
of it would have been affectation. She had harassed him for seven years;
she had urged the Pope to take his crown from him; she had done her worst
to stir his subjects into insurrection, and bring a Spanish fleet and army
into English waters and upon English soil. Respect her courage he did, but
love for her, if in such a marriage love had ever existed, must have long
disappeared, and he did not make a show of a regret which it was
impossible for him to feel. He perhaps considered that he had done more
than enough in resisting the advice of his Council to take stronger
measures.

After despatching the letter describing the interview at Greenwich, the
Ambassador started with his suite for Kimbolton, and with a gentleman of
Cromwell's household in attendance. Immediately on his arrival Catherine
sent for him to her bedside, and desired that this gentleman should be
present also, to hear what passed between them. She thanked Chapuys for
coming. She said, if God was to take her, it would be a consolation to her
to die in his arms and not like a wild animal. She said she had been taken
seriously ill at the end of November with pain in the stomach and nausea;
a second and worse attack of the same kind had followed on Christmas Day;
she could eat nothing, and believed that she was sinking. Chapuys
encouraged her--expressed his hopes for her recovery--said that he was
commissioned to tell her that she might choose a residence for herself at
any one of the royal manors, that the King would give her money, and was
sorry to hear of her illness. He himself entreated her to keep up her
spirits, as on her recovery and life the peace of Christendom depended.
The visit excited her, she was soon exhausted, and they then left her to
rest. After an interval she sent for the Ambassador again, and talked for
two hours with him alone. She had brightened up; the next morning she was
better; he remained four days at Kimbolton, which were spent in private
conversation. She was the same Catherine which she had always
been--courageous, resolute, and inflexible to the end. She spoke
incessantly of the Emperor, and of her own and her daughter's situation.
She struck perpetually on the old note: the delay of the "remedy" which
was causing infinite evil, and destroying the souls and bodies of all
honest and worthy people.

Chapuys explained to her how the Emperor had been circumstanced, and how
impossible it had been for him to do more than had been done. He
comforted her, however, with dilating on the Pope's indignation at the
execution of Fisher, and his determination to act in earnest at last. He
told her how Francis, who had been the chief difficulty, was now becoming
alienated from the King, and satisfied her that the delay had not been
caused by forgetfulness of herself and the Princess. With these happier
prospects held out to her she recovered her spirits and appeared to be
recovering her health. At the end of the four days she was sleeping
soundly, enjoying her food, laughing and exchanging Castilian jokes with a
Spaniard whom Chapuys had brought with him. She was so much better, so
happy, and so contented, that the Ambassador ceased to be alarmed about
her. He thought it would be imprudent to abuse the King's permission by
remaining longer unnecessarily. The physician made no objection to his
going, and promised to let him know if there was again a change for the
worse; but this person evidently no longer believed that there was any
immediate danger, for his last words to Chapuys were to ask him to arrange
for her removal from Kimbolton to some better air. Catherine, when the
Ambassador took leave, charged him to write to the Emperor, to Granvelle,
and to Secretary Covos, and entreat them, for God's sake, to make an end
one way or the other, for the uncertainty was ruining the realm and would
be her own and her daughter's destruction.

This was on the night of Tuesday, the 4th of January. Chapuys was to leave
the next morning. Before departing he ascertained that she had again slept
well, and he rode off without disturbing her. Through the Wednesday and
Thursday she continued to improve, and on the Thursday afternoon she was
cheerful, sate up, asked for a comb and dressed her hair. That midnight,
however, she became suddenly restless, begged for the sacrament, and
became impatient for morning when it could be administered. Her confessor,
Father Ateca (who had come with her from Spain, held the see of Llandaff,
and had been left undisturbed through all the changes of the late years),
offered to anticipate the canonical hour, but she would not allow him. At
dawn on Friday she communicated, prayed God to pardon the King for the
wrongs which had been inflicted upon her, and received extreme unction;
she gave a few directions for the disposition of her personal property,
and then waited for the end. At two o'clock in the afternoon she passed
peacefully away (Friday, Jan. 7, 1536).

A strange circumstance followed. The body was to be embalmed. There were
in the house three persons who, according to Chapuys, had often performed
such operations, neither of them, however, being surgeons by profession.
These men, eight hours after the death, opened the stomach in the usual
way, but without the presence either of the confessor or the physician.
Chapuys says that these persons were acting by the King's command,[373]
but there is nothing to indicate that the confessor and physician might
not have been present at the operation had they thought it necessary.
Chapuys had previously asked the physician if the Queen could have been
poisoned. The physician said that he feared so, as she had not been well
since she had taken some Welsh ale; if there had been poison, however, it
must have been very subtle, as he had observed no symptom which indicated
it; when the body was opened they would know.[374] The physician had thus
looked forward to an examination, and had he really entertained suspicions
he would certainly have made an effort to attend. If he was prohibited, or
if the operation had been hurried through without his knowledge, it is not
conceivable that, after he had left England and returned to his own
country, he would not have made known a charge so serious to the world.
This he never did. It is equally remarkable that on removing from
Kimbolton he was allowed to attend upon the Princess Mary--a thing
impossible to understand if he had any mystery of the kind to communicate
to her, or if the Government had any fear of what he might say. When the
operation was over, however, one of the men went to the Father Ateca and
told him in confession, as if in fear of his life, that the body and
intestines were natural and healthy, but that the heart was black. They
had washed it, he said; they had divided it, but it remained black and was
black throughout. On this evidence the physician concluded that the Queen,
beyond doubt, had died of poison.[375]

A reader who has not predetermined to believe the worst of Henry VIII.
will probably conclude differently. The world did not believe Catherine to
have been murdered, for among the many slanders which the embittered
Catholics then and afterwards heaped upon Henry, they did not charge him
with this. Chapuys, however, believed, or affected to believe, that by
some one or other murdered she had been. It was a terrible business, he
wrote. The Princess would die of grief, or else the Concubine would kill
her. Even if the Queen and Princess had taken the Emperor's advice and
submitted, the Concubine, he thought, under colour of the reconciliation
which would have followed, would have made away with them the more
fearlessly, because there would then be less suspicion. He had not been
afraid of the King. The danger was from the Concubine, who had sworn to
take their lives and would never have rested till it was done. The King
and his Mistress, however, had taken a shorter road. They were afraid of
the issue of the brief of execution. With Catherine dead the process at
Rome would drop, the chief party to the suit being gone. Further action
would have to be taken by the Pope on his own account, and no longer upon
hers, and the Pope would probably hesitate; while, as soon as the mother
was out of the way, there would be less difficulty in working upon the
daughter, whom, being a subject, they would be able to constrain.[376]

It was true that the threatened Papal brief, being a part and consequence
of the original suit, would have to be dropped or recalled. Henry could
not be punished for not taking back his wife when the wife was dead. To
that extent her end was convenient, and thus a motive may be suggested for
making away with her. It was convenient also, as was frankly avowed, in
removing the principal obstacle to the reconciliation of Henry and the
Emperor; but, surely, on the condition that the death was natural. Had
Charles allowed Chapuys to persuade him that his aunt had been murdered,
reconciliation would have been made impossible for ever, and Henry would
have received the just reward of an abominable crime. Chapuys's object
from the beginning had been to drive the Emperor into war with England,
and if motive may be conjectured for the murder of Catherine, motive also
can be found for Chapuys's accusations, which no other evidence, direct or
indirect, exists to support.

If there had been foul play there would have been an affectation of
sorrow. There was none at all. When the news arrived Anne Boleyn and her
friends showed unmixed pleasure. The King (Chapuys is again the only
witness and he was reporting from hearsay) thanked God there was now no
fear of war; when the French knew that there was no longer any quarrel
between him and the Emperor, he could do as he pleased with them. Chapuys
says these were his first words on receiving the tidings that Catherine
was gone--words not unnatural if the death was innocent, but scarcely
credible if she had been removed by assassination.

The effect was of general relief at the passing away of a great danger. It
was thought that the Pope would now drop the proceedings against the King,
and Cromwell said that perhaps before long they would have a Legate among
them. Even Chapuys, on consideration, reflected that he might have spoken
too confidently about the manner of Catherine's end. Her death, he
imagined, had been brought about partly by poison and partly by
despondency. Had he reflected further he might have asked himself how
poison could have been administered at all, as the Queen took nothing
which had not been prepared by her own servants, who would all have died
for her.

Undoubtedly, however, the King breathed more freely when she was gone.
There was no longer a woman who claimed to be his wife, and whose presence
in the kingdom was a reflection on the legitimacy of his second daughter.
On the Sunday following, the small Elizabeth was carried to church with
special ceremony. In the evening there was a dance in the hall of the
palace, and the King appeared in the middle of it with the child in his
arms. All allowance must be made for the bitterness with which Chapuys
described the scene. He was fresh from Catherine's bedside. He had
witnessed her sufferings; he had listened to the story of her wrongs from
her own lips. He had talked hopefully with her of the future, and had
encouraged her to expect a grand and immediate redress; and now she was
dead, worn out with sorrow, if with nothing worse, an object at least to
make the dullest heart pity her, while of pity there was no sign. What was
to be done? He himself had no doubt at all. The enemy was off his guard
and now was the moment to strike.

Anne Boleyn sent a message to Mary that she was ready, on her submission,
to be her friend and a second mother to her. Mary replied that she would
obey her father in everything, saving her honour and conscience, but that
it was useless to ask her to abjure the Pope. She was told that the King
himself would use his authority and command her to submit. She consulted
Chapuys on the answer which she was to give should such a command be sent.
He advised her to be resolute but cautious. She must ask to be left in
peace to pray for her mother's soul; she must say that she was a poor
orphan, without experience or knowledge; the King must allow her time to
consider. He himself despatched a courier to the Regent of the Netherlands
with plans for her escape out of England. The Pope, he said, must issue
his Bull without a day's delay, and in it, for the sake of Catherine's
honour, it must be stated that she died queen. Instant preparations must
be made for the execution of the sentence. Meanwhile he recommended the
Emperor to send some great person to remonstrate against the Princess's
treatment and to speak out boldly and severely. The late Queen, he wrote,
used to say that the King and his advisers were like sheep to those who
appeared like wolves, and lions to those who were afraid of them. Mildness
at such a moment would be the ruin of Christendom. If the Emperor
hesitated longer, those who showed no sorrow at the mother's death would
take courage to make an end with the daughter. There would be no need of
poison. Grief and hard usage would be enough.[377]

The King with some hesitation had consented to Chapuys's request that
Catherine's physician should be allowed to attend the Princess. The
presence of this man would necessarily be a protection, and either Anne's
influence was less supreme than the Ambassador had feared or her sinister
designs were a malicious invention. It is unlikely, however, that warnings
so persistently repeated and so long continued should have been wholly
without foundation, and, if the inner secrets of the Court could be laid
open, it might be found that the Princess had been the subject of many an
altercation between Anne and the King. Even Chapuys always acknowledged
that it was from her, and not from Henry, that the danger was to be
feared. He had spoken warmly of Mary, had shown affection for her when her
behaviour threatened his own safety. He admired the force of character
which she was showing, and had silenced peremptorily the Ministers who
recommended severity. But if he was her father, he was also King of
England. If he was to go through with his policy towards the Church, the
undisguised antagonism of a child whom three quarters of his subjects
looked on as his legitimate successor, was embarrassing and even perilous.
Had Anne Boleyn produced the Prince so much talked of all would then have
been easy. He would not then be preferring a younger daughter to an elder.
Both would yield to a brother with whom all England would be satisfied,
and Mary would cease to have claims which the Emperor would feel bound to
advocate. The whole nation were longing for a prince; but the male heir,
for which the King had plunged into such a sea of troubles, was still
withheld. He had interpreted the deaths of the sons whom Catherine had
borne him into a judgment of Heaven upon his first marriage; the same
disappointment might appear to a superstitious fancy to be equally a
condemnation of the second. Anne Boleyn's conduct during the last two
years had not recommended her either to the country or perhaps to her
husband. Setting aside the graver charges afterwards brought against her,
it is evident that she had thrown herself fiercely into the political
struggles of the time. To the Catholic she was a _diablesse_, a tigress,
the author of all the mischief which was befalling them and the realm. By
the prudent and the moderate she was almost equally disliked; the nation
generally, and even Reformers like Cromwell and Cranmer, were Imperialist;
Anne Boleyn was passionately French. Personally she had made herself
disliked by her haughty and arrogant manners. She had been received as
Queen, after her marriage was announced, with coldness, if not with
hostility. Had she been gracious and modest she might have partially
overcome the prejudice against her. But she had been carried away by the
vanity of her elevation; she had insulted the great English nobles; she
had spoken to the Duke of Norfolk "as if he was a dog;" she had threatened
to take off Cromwell's head. Such manners and such language could not have
made Henry's difficulties less, or been pleasing to a sovereign whose
authority depended on the goodwill of his people. He had fallen in love
with an unworthy woman, as men will do, even the wisest; yet in his first
affection he had not been blind to her faults, and, even before his
marriage, had been heard to say that, if it was to be done again, he would
not have committed himself so far. He had persisted, perhaps, as much from
pride, and because he would not submit to the dictation of the Emperor, as
from any real attachment. Qualities that he could respect she had none.
Catherine was gone; from that connection he was at last free, even in the
eyes of the Roman Curia; but whether he was or was not married lawfully to
Anne, was a doubtful point in the mind of many a loyal Englishman; and, to
the best of his own friends, to the Emperor, and to all Europe, his
separation from a woman whom the Catholic world called his concubine, and
a marriage with some other lady which would be open to no suspicion and
might result in the much desired prince, would have been welcomed as a
peace-offering. She had done nothing to reconcile the nation to her. She
had left nothing undone to exasperate it. She was believed, justly or
unjustly, to have endeavoured to destroy the Princess Mary. She was
credited by remorseful compassion with having been the cause of her
mother's death. The isolation and danger of England was all laid to her
account. She was again _enceinte_. If a prince was born, all faults would
be forgotten; but she had miscarried once since the birth of Elizabeth,
and a second misfortune might be dangerous. She had failed in her
attempts to conciliate Mary, who, but for an accident, would have made
good her escape out of England. When the preparations were almost complete
the Princess had been again removed to another house, from which it was
found impossible to carry her away. But Chapuys mentions that, glad as
Anne appeared at the Queen's death, she was less at ease than she
pretended. Lord and Lady Exeter had brought him a Court rumour of words
said to have been uttered by the King, that "he had been drawn into the
marriage by witchcraft; God had shown his displeasure by denying him male
children by her, and therefore he might take another wife."

Lord and Lady Exeter were not trustworthy authorities--on this occasion
even Chapuys did not believe them--but stories of the kind were in the
wind. It was notorious that everything was not well between the King and
Lady Anne. A curious light is thrown on the state of Anne's mind by a
letter which she wrote to her aunt, Mrs. Shelton, after Mary's rejection
of her advances. Mrs. Shelton left it lying open on a table. Mary found
it, copied it, and replaced it, and the transcript, in Mary's handwriting,
is now at Vienna.

     "MRS. SHELTON,--My pleasure is that you seek to go no further to move
     the Lady Mary towards the King's grace, other than as he himself
     directed in his own words to her. What I have done myself has been
     more for charity than because the King or I care what course she
     takes, or whether she will change or not change her purpose. When I
     shall have a son, as soon I look to have, I know what then will come
     to her. Remembering the word of God, that we should do good to our
     enemies, I have wished to give her notice before the time, because by
     my daily experience I know the wisdom of the King to be such that he
     will not value her repentance or the cessation of her madness and
     unnatural obstinacy when she has no longer power to choose. She would
     acknowledge her errors and evil conscience by the law of God and the
     King if blind affection had not so sealed her eyes that she will not
     see but what she pleases.

     "Mrs. Shelton, I beseech you, trouble not yourself to turn her from
     any of her wilful ways, for to me she can do neither good nor ill. Do
     your own duty towards her, following the King's commandment, as I am
     assured that you do and will do, and you shall find me your good
     lady, whatever comes.

     "Your good Mistress,

     "ANNE R."




CHAPTER XXI.

Funeral of Catherine--Miscarriage of Anne--The Princess Mary and the Act
of Supremacy--Her continued desire to escape--Effect of Catherine's death
on Spanish policy--Desire of the Emperor to recover the English alliance--
Chapuys and Cromwell--Conditions of the treaty--Efforts of the Emperor to
recover Henry to the Church--Matrimonial schemes--Likelihood of a
separation of the King from Anne--Jane Seymour--Anne's conduct--The
Imperial treaty--Easter at Greenwich--Debate in Council--The French
alliance or the Imperial--The alternative advantages--Letter of the King
to his Ambassador in Spain.


Catherine was buried with some state in Peterborough Cathedral, on the
29th of January. In the ceremonial she was described as the widow of
Prince Arthur, not as the Queen of England, and the Spanish Ambassador,
therefore, declined to be present. On the same day Anne Boleyn again
miscarried, and this time of a male infant. She laid the blame of her
misfortune on the Duke of Norfolk. The King had been thrown from his
horse; Norfolk, she said, had alarmed her, by telling her of the accident
too suddenly. This Chapuys maliciously said that the King knew to be
untrue, having been informed she had heard the news with much composure.
The disappointment worked upon his mind; he said he saw plainly God would
give him no male children by that woman; he went once to her bedside,
spoke a few cold words, and left her with an intimation that he would
speak to her again when she was recovered. Some concluded that there was
a defect in her constitution; others whispered that she had been irritated
at attentions which the King had been paying to Jane Seymour, who in
earlier days had been a lady-in-waiting to Catherine. Anne herself,
according to a not very credible story of Chapuys's, was little disturbed;
her ladies were lamenting; she consoled them by saying that it was all for
the best; the child that had been lost had been conceived in the Queen's
lifetime, and the legitimacy of it might have been doubtful; no
uncertainty would attach to the next.[378] It is not likely that Anne felt
uncertain on such a point, or would have avowed it if she had. She might
have reasons of her own for her hopes of another chance. Henry seemed to
have no hope at all; he sent Chapuys a message through Cromwell that
Mary's situation was now changed; her train should be increased, and her
treatment improved--subject, however, of course, to her submission.

Mary had made up her mind, under Chapuys's advice, that if a prince was
born, she would acknowledge the Act of Supremacy and the Act of Succession
with a secret protest, as the Emperor had recommended her. She had no
intention, however, of parting with her pretensions, and alienating her
friends, as long as there was no brother whose claims she could not
dispute. Chapuys had imagined, and Mary had believed, that the Emperor
would have resented the alleged poisoning of Catherine; that, instead of
her death removing the danger of war, as Henry supposed, war had now
become more certain than ever. With this impression, the Princess still
kept her mind fixed on escaping out of the country, and continued to press
Chapuys to take her away. She had infinite courage; a Flemish ship was
hovering about the mouth of the Thames ready to come up, on receiving
notice, within two or three miles of Gravesend. The house to which she had
been removed was forty miles from the place where she would have to
embark; it was inconvenient for the intended enterprise, and was, perhaps,
guarded, though she did not know it. She thought, however, that, if
Chapuys would send her something to drug her women with, she could make
her way into the garden, and the gate could be broken open. "She was so
eager," Chapuys said, "that, if he had told her to cross the Channel in a
sieve, she would venture it;" the distance from Gravesend was the
difficulty: the Flemish shipmaster was afraid to go higher up the river: a
forty miles' ride would require relays of horses, and the country through
which she had to pass was thickly inhabited. Means, however, might be
found to take her down in a boat, and if she was once out of England, and
under the Emperor's protection, Chapuys was convinced that the King would
no longer kick against the pricks.

Mary herself was less satisfied on this point. Happy as she would be to
find herself out of personal danger, she feared her father might still
persist in his heresies, and bring more souls to perdition; "she would,
therefore, prefer infinitely," she said, "the general and total remedy so
necessary for God's service." She wished Chapuys to send another messenger
to the Emperor, to stir him up to activity. But Chapuys, desperate of
rousing Charles by mere entreaties, encouraged her flight out of the
country as the surest means of bringing Henry to a reckoning. The
difficulty would not be very great; the King had shown an inclination to
be more gentle with her; Mrs. Shelton had orders to admit her mother's
physician to her at any time that he pleased; and others of the household
at Kimbolton were to be transferred to her service; these relaxations
would make the enterprise much easier, and Chapuys was disposed to let it
be tried. The Emperor's consent, however, was of course a preliminary
condition, and his latest instructions had been unfavourable. The
Ambassador, therefore, referred the matter once more to Charles's
judgment, adding only, with a view to his own safety, that, should the
escape be carried out, his own share in it would immediately be suspected;
and the King, who had no fear of anyone in the world, would undoubtedly
kill him. He could be of no use in the execution of the plot, and would,
therefore, make an excuse to cross to Flanders before the attempt was
made.[379]

Chapuys's precipitancy had been disappointed before, and was to be
disappointed again; he had worked hard to persuade Charles that Catherine
had been murdered; Charles, by the manner in which he received the
intelligence, showed that his Minister's representations had not convinced
him. In sending word to the Empress that the Queen was dead, the Emperor
said that accounts differed as to her last illness: some saying that it
was caused by an affection of the stomach, which had lasted for some days;
others that she had drunk something suspected to have contained poison. He
did not himself say that he believed her to have been poisoned, nor did he
wish it to be repeated as coming from him. The Princess, he heard, was
inconsolable; he hoped God would have pity on her. He had gone into
mourning, and had ordered the Spanish Court to do the same.[380]

In Spain there was an obvious consciousness that nothing had been done of
which notice could be taken. Had there been a belief that a Spanish
princess had been made away with in England, as the consummation of a
protracted persecution, so proud a people would indisputably have demanded
satisfaction. The effect was exactly the opposite. Articles had been drawn
by the Spanish Council for a treaty with France as a settlement of the
dispute about Milan. One of the conditions was the stipulation to which
Cromwell had referred in a conversation with Chapuys, that France was to
undertake the execution of the Papal sentence and the reduction of England
to the Church. The Queen being dead, the Emperor's Council recommended
that this article should now be withdrawn, and the recovery of the King be
left to negotiation.[381] Instead of seeing in Catherine's death an
occasion for violence, they found in it a fresh motive for a peaceful
arrangement.

It was assumed that if the Princess escaped, and if Henry did not then
submit, war would be the immediate consequence. The Emperor, always
disinclined towards the "remedy" which his Ambassador had so long urged
upon him, acted as Cromwell expected. The adventurous flight to Gravesend
had to be abandoned, and he decided that Mary must remain quiet. In
protecting Catherine while alive he had so far behaved like a gentleman
and a man of honour. He was her nearest relation, and it was impossible
for him to allow her to be pushed aside without an effort to prevent it.
But as a statesman he had felt throughout that a wrong to his relation, or
even a wrong to the Holy See, in the degraded condition of the Papacy, was
no sufficient cause for adding to the confusions of Christendom. He had
rather approved than condemned the internal reforms in the Church of
England: and, after taking time to reflect and perhaps inquire more
particularly into the circumstances of Catherine's end, he behaved
precisely as he would have done if he was satisfied that her death was
natural: he gave Chapuys to understand, in a letter from Naples,[382]
that, if a fresh opening presented itself, he must take up again the
abandoned treaty; and the secret interviews recommenced between the
Ambassador and the English Chief Secretary.

These instructions must have arrived a week after the plans had been
completed for Mary's escape, and Chapuys had to swallow his disappointment
and obey with such heart as he could command. The first approaches were
wary on both sides. Cromwell said that he had no commission to treat
directly; and that, as the previous negotiations had been allowed to drop,
the first overtures must now come from the Emperor; the Queen being gone,
however, the ground of difference was removed, and the restoration of the
old alliance was of high importance to Christendom; the King and the
Emperor united could dictate peace to the world; France was on the eve of
invading Italy, and had invited the King to make a simultaneous attack
upon Flanders; a party in the Council wished him to consent; the King,
however, preferred the friendship of the Emperor, and, Catherine being no
longer alive, there was nothing to keep them asunder.

Chapuys, who never liked the proposal of a treaty at all, listened coldly;
he said he had heard language of that kind before, and wished for
something more precise; Cromwell replied that he had been speaking merely
his own opinion; he had no authority and, therefore, could not enter into
details; if there was to be a reconciliation, he repeated that the Emperor
must make the advances.

The Emperor, Chapuys rejoined, would probably make four conditions: the
King must be reconciled to the Church as well as to himself; the Princess
must be restored to her rank and be declared legitimate; the King must
assist in the war with the Turks, and the league must be offensive as well
as defensive.

Cromwell's answer was more encouraging than Chapuys perhaps desired. The
fourth article, he said, would be accepted at once, and on the third the
King would do what he could; no great objection would be made to the
second; the door was open. Reconciliation with Rome would be difficult,
but even that was not impossible. If the Emperor would write under his own
hand to the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, and to the Duke of Richmond, who
in mind and body singularly resembled his father, much might be done.

A confidential Minister would not have ventured so far without knowing
Henry's private views, and such large concessions were a measure of the
decline of Anne Boleyn's influence. As regarded the Princess Mary, Chapuys
had found that there was a real disposition to be more kind to her, for
the King had sent her a crucifix which had belonged to her mother,
containing a piece of the true cross, which Catherine had desired that
she should have,[383] and had otherwise showed signs of a father's
affection.

The Emperor himself now appears upon the scene, and the eagerness which he
displayed for a reconciliation showed how little he had really seen to
blame in Henry's conduct. So long as Catherine lived he was bound in
honour to insist on her acknowledgment as queen; but she was gone, and he
was willing to say no more about her. He saw that the intellect and energy
of England were running upon the German lines. Chapuys, and perhaps other
correspondents more trustworthy, had assured him that, if things went on
as they were going, the hold of the Catholic Church on the English people
would soon be lost. The King himself, if he wished it, might not be able
to check the torrent, and the opinion of his vassals and his own imperious
disposition might carry him to the extreme lengths of Luther. The Emperor
was eager to rescue Henry before it was too late from the influences under
which his quarrel with the Pope had plunged him. He praised Chapuys's
dexterity; he was pleased with what Cromwell had said, and proceeded
himself to take up the points of the proposals.

"The withdrawal of the King from the Church of Rome," he said, "was a
matter of great importance. His pride might stand in the way of his
turning back: he might be ashamed of showing a want of resolution before
the world and before his subjects, and he was obstinate in his own
opinions." Charles, therefore, directed Chapuys to lay before him such
considerations as were likely to affect his judgment, the peril to his
soul, the division and confusion sure to arise in his realm, and the
evident danger should the Pope go on to the execution of the sentence and
call in the assistance of the Princes of Christendom. Under the most
favourable aspect, both he and his supporters would be held in continual
anxiety; and, though he might be able to maintain what he had begun as
long as he himself lived, he could not do it without great difficulty, and
would inevitably leave an inheritance of calamity to those who came after
him. Chapuys was to advise him, therefore, to take timely measures for the
security of the realm, and either refer his differences with the Pope to a
General Council, or trust to Charles himself to negotiate for him with the
Holy See, which he might assure himself that Charles would do on
honourable and favourable terms. The chief objections likely to be raised
by Henry would be the Pope's sentence in the divorce case, the interests
of his country in the annates question, and other claims upon the realm
which the Pope pretended. The first could be disposed of in the
arrangement to be made for the Princess; the annates could be moderated,
and a limit fixed for the Pope's other demands; as to the supreme
authority over the Church of England, Chapuys might persuade the King that
the relative positions of the Crown and the Holy See might be determined
to his own honour, and the profit and welfare of the realm.[384] The
Emperor, indeed, was obliged to add he could give no pledge to the
prejudice of the Church without the Pope's consent, but Chapuys might
promise that he would use his utmost exertions to bring about a reasonable
composition. Charles evidently did not intend to allow the pretensions of
the Papacy to stand in the way of the settlement of Europe. If the
Ambassador saw that a reconciliation with Rome was hopeless, sooner than
lose the treaty the Emperor was ready to consent to leave that point out
in order to carry the others, provided the King did not require him
directly to countenance what he had done. As to the Princess, care would
have to be taken not to compromise the honour of the late Queen, or the
legitimacy and rights of her daughter. If her father would not consent to
recognise formally her claim on the succession, that too might be left in
suspense till the King's death; and Charles was willing to undertake that,
as long as Henry lived, no action was to be taken against him, and none
permitted to be taken on the part of any one, not even of the Pope, to
punish him for his treatment of Catherine--not though her end had been
hastened, as some suspected, by sinister means. A marriage could be
arranged for Mary between the King and the Emperor; and, should the King
himself decide to abandon the Concubine and marry again in a fit and
convenient manner, Chapuys was to offer no opposition, and the Emperor
said that he would not object to help him in conformity with the
treaty.[385]

It was obvious to everyone that, if Henry separated from Anne, an
immediate marriage with some other person would follow. Charles was
already weighing the possibility, and when the event occurred it will be
seen that he lost not a moment in endeavouring to secure Henry's hand for
another of his own relations. Princes and statesmen are not scrupulous in
arranging their political alliances, but, considering all that had
happened and all that was about to happen, the readiness of Charles V. to
bestow a second kinswoman on the husband of Queen Catherine may be taken
to prove that his opinion of Henry's character was less unfavourable than
that which is generally given by historians.

Cromwell had been premature in allowing a prospect of the restoration of
the Papal authority in England. Charles, in his eagerness to smooth
matters, had suggested that a way might be found to leave the King the
reality of the supremacy, while the form was left to the Pope. But no such
arrangement was really possible, and Henry had gone on with his
legislative measures against the Church as if no treaty was under
consideration. Parliament had met again, and had passed an Act for the
suppression of the smaller monasteries. That the Emperor should be suing
to him for an alliance while he was excommunicated by the Pope, and was
deliberately pursuing a policy which was exasperating his own clergy, was
peculiarly agreeable to Henry, and he enjoyed the triumph which it gave
him; a still greater triumph would be another marriage into the Imperial
family; and a wish that he should form some connection, the legality of
which could not be disputed, was widely entertained and freely uttered
among his own subjects. Chapuys, before Charles's letter could have
reached him, had been active in encouraging the idea. He had spoken to
Mary about it, and Mary had been so delighted at the prospect of her
father's separation from Anne, that she said she would rejoice at it,
though it cost her the succession.[386] That the King was likely to part
with Anne was the general talk of London. Chapuys called on Cromwell,
alluded to the rumour which had reached him, and intimated how much
mischief would be avoided if the King could make up his mind to take
another wife, against whom no objection could be brought. Cromwell said
that he had never himself been in favour of the marriage with Anne, but,
seeing the King bent on it, he had assisted him to the best of his power;
he believed, however, that, the thing having been done, the King would
abide by it; he might pay attentions to other ladies, but they meant
nothing.

Cromwell's manner seemed peculiar, and Chapuys observed him more closely.
The Secretary was leaning against a window, turning away his face as if to
conceal a smile. There had been a report that some French princess was
being thought of, and perhaps Chapuys made some allusion to it; for
Cromwell said that Chapuys might assure himself that, if the King did take
another wife, he would not look for her in France.

The smile might have had a meaning which Chapuys could not suspect. The
Secretary was by this time acquainted with circumstances in Anne's conduct
which might throw another aspect on the situation, but the moment had not
come to reveal them. It is likely enough that the King had been harassed
and uncertain. The air was thick with stories claiming to be authentic.
Lady Exeter had told Chapuys that the King had sent a purse and a letter
to Jane Seymour, of whom Anne had been jealous. Jane Seymour had returned
the letter unopened and the money along with it, and had prayed the bearer
to say to the King that he must keep his presents till she made some
honourable marriage.

Lady Exeter and her friends made their own comments. Anne's enemies, it
was said, were encouraging the intimacy with Jane, and had told the lady
to impress upon the King that the nation detested his connection with Anne
and that no one believed it lawful; as if it was likely that a woman in
the position in which Jane Seymour was supposed to stand could have spoken
to him on such a subject, or would have recommended herself to Henry, if
she did. At the same time it is possible and even probable that Henry,
observing her quiet, modest and upright character, may have contrasted her
with the lady to whom he had bound himself, may have wished that he could
change one for the other, and may even have thought of doing it; but that,
as Cromwell said, he had felt that he must make no more changes, and must
abide by the destiny which he had imposed on himself.[387]

For, in fact, it was not open to Henry to raise the question of the
lawfulness of his marriage with Anne, or to avail himself of it if raised
by others. He had committed himself far too deeply, and the Parliament had
been committed along with him, to the measures by which the marriage was
legalised. Yet Anne's ascendancy was visibly drawing to an end, and clouds
of a darker character were gathering over her head. In the early days of
her married life outrageous libels had been freely circulated, both
against her and against the King. Henry had been called a devil. The Duke
of Norfolk had spoken of his niece as a _grande putaine_. To check these
effusive utterances the severest penalties had been threatened by
proclamation against all who dared to defame the Queen's character, and no
one had ventured to whisper a word against her. But her conduct had been
watched; light words, light actions had been observed and carefully
noted. Her overbearing manner had left her without a friend save her own
immediate connections and personal allies. "Men's mouths had been shut
when they knew what ought not to have been concealed."[388] A long
catalogue of misdeeds had been registered, with dates and particulars,
treasured up for use by the ladies of the household, as soon as it should
become safe to speak; and if her conduct had been really as abandoned as
it was afterwards alleged to have been, the growing alienation of the King
may be easily understood. It was impossible for any woman to have worn a
mask so long and never to have given her husband occasion for
dissatisfaction. Incidents must have occurred in the details of daily
life, if not to rouse his suspicions, yet to have let him see that the
woman for whom he had fought so fierce a battle had never been worth what
she had cost him.

Anne Boleyn's fortunes, however, like Catherine's, were but an episode in
the affairs of England and of Christendom, and the treaty with the Emperor
was earnestly proceeded with as if nothing was the matter. The great
concerns of nations are of more consequence to contemporary statesmen than
the tragedies or comedies of royal households. Events rush on; the public
interests which are all-absorbing while they last are superseded or
forgotten; the personal interests remain, and the modern reader thinks
that incidents which most affect himself must have been equally absorbing
to every one at the time when they occurred. The mistake is natural, but
it is a mistake notwithstanding. The great question of the hour was the
alternative alliance with the Empire or with France, and the result to be
expected from the separation of England from Rome.

The Emperor wrote, as Cromwell had suggested, to the three Dukes. Chapuys
paid Cromwell a visit at his country-house in the middle of April, to
discuss again the four conditions. Cromwell had laid them before the King,
and had to report his answer. The reconciliation with Rome was declared
impossible. Henry said that the injuries to England by the Pope's sentence
had been too great, and the statutes too recent to be repealed. The Pope
himself was now making overtures, and was disposed to gratify the King as
much as possible. Something, therefore, might be done in the future, but
for the present the question could not be entertained. Cromwell offered to
show the Ambassador the Pope's letters, if he wished to see them. Chapuys
observed sarcastically that, after all that had passed, the King ought to
be highly gratified at finding his friendship solicited by the Pope and
the Emperor, the two parties whom he had most offended. It might be hoped
that, having enjoyed his triumph, the King would now recollect that
something was due to the peace of Christendom. Cromwell did not attempt a
repartee, and let the observation pass. He said, however, that he hoped
much from time. On the other points, all consideration would be shown for
the Princess, but the King could not consent to make her the subject of an
article in the treaty; no difficulty would be made about assistance in the
Turkish war; as to France, the Council were now unanimous in recommending
the Imperial alliance, and had represented their views to the King. The
King was pausing over his resolution, severely blaming the course which
Francis was pursuing, but less willing to break with France than Cromwell
had himself expected. Francis, Cromwell said, had stood by the King as a
friend in the worst of his difficulties, and the King did not like to
quarrel with him; he, however, intended to speak to Chapuys himself.

The Court was keeping Easter at Greenwich, and thither the Ambassador
repaired. Easter Sunday falling on the 16th of April, the Chapter of the
Garter was to be held there, and the assembly was large and splendid. Anne
Boleyn was present in state as Queen, with her brother Lord Rochford, the
demeanour of both of them undisturbed by signs of approaching storm. When
Chapuys presented himself, Rochford paid him particular attention. The
Ambassador had been long absent from the Court circle. Cromwell told him
that the King would be pleased if he would now pay his respects to Anne,
which he had never hitherto done, adding that, if he objected, it would
not be insisted on. Chapuys excused himself. For various reasons, he said,
he thought it not desirable. Cromwell said that his answer would be taken
in good part, and hoped that the rest of their business would run
smoothly.

Henry himself passed by as Cromwell was speaking to Chapuys. He bowed,
took off his cap, and motioned to the Ambassador to replace his own. He
then inquired after his health, asked how the Emperor was, how things were
going in Italy--in short, was particularly courteous.

Service followed in the chapel. Rochford conducted Chapuys thither, and,
as his sister was to be present and an encounter could not be avoided,
people were curious to see how she and the Ambassador would behave to each
other. Anne was "affable" enough, and curtseyed low as she swept past.

After mass the King and several members of the Council dined in Anne's
apartments. As it was presumed that Chapuys would not desire to form one
of the party, he was entertained by the household. Anne asked why he had
not been invited. The King said there was reason for it.

Dinner over, Henry led Chapuys into his private cabinet, Cromwell
following with the Chancellor Audeley. No one else was present at the
beginning of the conference. The King drew the Ambassador apart into a
window, when Chapuys again produced at length his four points. The King
listened patiently as Chapuys expatiated on the action of the French,
remarking only that Milan and Burgundy belonged to France and not to the
Emperor. The observation showed Chapuys that things were not yet as he
could have wished. He inquired whether, if the treaty was made, England
would be prepared to assist the Emperor should France attack the Duke of
Gueldres. Henry answered that he would do his part better than others had
done their parts with him; he then called up Cromwell and Audeley, and
made Chapuys repeat what he had said. This done, Chapuys withdrew to
another part of the room, and fell into conversation with Sir Edward
Seymour, who had since entered. He left Henry talking earnestly with the
two Ministers, and between him and them Chapuys observed that there was a
strong difference of opinion. The King's voice rose high. Cromwell, after
a time, left him, and, saying that he was thirsty, seated himself on a
chest out of the King's sight and asked for water. The King then rejoined
the Ambassador, and told him that his communications were of such
importance that he must have them in writing. Chapuys objected that this
was unusual. He had no order to write anything, and dared not go beyond
his instructions. Henry was civil, but persisted, saying that he could
give no definite answer till he had the Emperor's offer in black and white
before him. Generally, however, he said that his quarrel with Rome did not
concern the Emperor. If he wished to treat with the Pope, he could do it
without the Emperor's interposition; the Princess was his daughter, and
would be used according to her deserts; a subvention for the Turkish war
might be thought of when the alliance with Charles was renewed. Finally he
said that he would not refuse his friendship to those who sought it in
becoming terms, but he _was not a child, to be whipped first and then
caressed and invited back again and called sweet names_. He drummed with
his finger on his knees as he spoke. He insisted that he had been injured
and expected an acknowledgment that he had been injured. The overtures, he
repeated, must come from the Emperor. The Emperor must write him a letter
requesting him to forget and forgive the past, and no more should then be
said about it; but such a letter he must and would have. Chapuys
restrained his temper. He said it was unreasonable to expect the Emperor
to humiliate himself. Henry only grew more excited, called Charles
ungrateful, declared that but for himself he would never have been on the
Imperial throne, or even have recovered his authority in Spain when the
commons had revolted; and, in return, the Emperor had stirred up Pope
Clement to deprive him of his kingdom.

Chapuys said it was not the Emperor's doing. The Pope had done it himself,
at the solicitation of other parties.

So the conference ended, and not satisfactorily. Henry was not a child to
be whipped and caressed. Charles wanted him now, because he was
threatened by France; and he, of his own judgment, preferred the Imperial
alliance, like the rest of his countrymen; but Charles had coerced the
Pope into refusing a concession which the Pope had admitted to be just,
and the King knew better than his Council that the way to secure the
Emperor's friendship was not to appear too eager for it.

The sharpness with which the King had spoken disappointed and even
surprised Cromwell, who, when the audience was over, could hardly speak
for vexation. His impression apparently was that the French faction had
still too much influence with the King, and the French faction was the
faction of Anne. He recovered his spirits when Chapuys informed him of the
concessions which the Emperor was prepared to make, and said that he still
hoped for "a good result."

The next morning, Wednesday, 19th of April, the Privy Council met again in
full number. They sate for three hours. The future of England, the future
of Europe, appeared to them at that moment to be hanging on the King's
resolution. They went in a body to him and represented on their knees that
they believed the Imperial alliance essential to the safety of the
country, and they implored him not to reject a hand so unexpectedly held
out to him on a mere point of honour. Henry, doubtless, felt as they did.
Since his quarrel with Charles he had hardly known a quiet hour; he had
been threatened with war, ruin of trade, interdict, and internal
rebellion. On a return to the old friendship the sullen clergy, the angry
Peers, would be compelled into submission, for the friend on whom they
most depended would have deserted them; the traders would no longer be in
alarm for their ventures; the Pope and his menaces would become a
laughingstock, and in the divorce controversy the right would be tacitly
allowed to have been with the King, since it was to be passed over without
being mentioned. Immense advantages. But the imperious pride of Henry
insisted on the form as well as the substance--on extorting a definite
confession in words as well as a practical acknowledgment. All the
troubles which had fallen on him--the quarrel with the Papacy, the
obstinate resistance of Catherine and Mary, the threats of invasion, and
insurrection--he looked upon as Charles's work. It was true that the
offered friendship was important to England, but England's friendship was
important to the Emperor, and the Emperor must ask for it. He told the
kneeling Councillors that he would sooner lose his crown than admit, even
by implication, that he had given Charles cause to complain of him. He was
willing to take the Emperor's hand, but he would not seek or sue for it.
The Emperor himself must write to him.

Cromwell, in describing what had passed to Chapuys, said that he was sorry
that things had gone no better, but that he was not discouraged. The King
had directed him to thank Chapuys for his exertions, and, for himself, he
trusted that the Ambassador would persevere. If the Emperor would send
even a letter of credit the King would be satisfied. In all his private
conversations, although he had taken the responsibility on himself, he had
acted under the King's instructions. The Ambassador asked him, if this was
so, what could have caused the change. He answered that kings had humours
and peculiarities of their own, unknown to ordinary mortals. In spite of
what had passed, the King was writing at that moment to Francis, to
require him to desist from his enterprise against Italy.

Chapuys replied that he would endeavour to obtain the letter from the
Emperor which the King demanded. He wrote to Charles, giving a full and
perhaps accurate account of all that had passed; but he ended with advice
of his own which showed how well Henry had understood Chapuys's own
character, and the slippery ground on which he was standing. Chapuys had
disliked the treaty with England from the beginning. He told his master
that Henry's real purpose was to make him force out of the Pope a
revocation of the sentence on the divorce. He recommended the Emperor once
more to leave Henry to reap the fruit of his obstinacy, to come to terms
with France, and allow the Pope to issue the Bull of Deposition--with a
proviso that neither he nor Francis would regard any child as legitimate
whom the King might have, either by the Concubine or by any other woman
whom he might marry during the Concubine's life, unless by a dispensation
from the Pope, which was not likely to be asked for. He did not venture to
hope that the Emperor would agree, but such a course, he said, would bring
the King to his senses, and force would be unnecessary.[389]

To Granvelle the Ambassador wrote more briefly to the same purpose. "God
knew," he said, "how he had worked to bring the King to a right road; but
he had found him unspeakably obstinate. The King seemed determined to
compel the Emperor to acknowledge that Clement's sentence had been given
under pressure from himself. Cromwell had behaved like an honest man, and
had taken to his bed for sorrow. Cromwell knew how necessary the
Emperor's friendship was to the King, but God or the Devil was preventing
it."[390]

Henry gave his own version of the story to the English Ministers at
Charles's court.

"The Emperor's Ambassador," he said, "has been with us at Greenwich with
offers to renew the alliance, the conditions being that he would allow the
Emperor to reconcile us with the Pope, that we will declare our daughter
Mary legitimate and give her a place in the succession, that we will help
him against the Turks, and declare war against France should France invade
Milan.

"Our answer was that the breach of amity came first from the Emperor
himself. We gave him the Imperial crown when it lay with us to dispose of.
We lent him money in his difficulties, etc. In return he has shown us
nothing but ingratitude, stirring the Bishop of Rome to do us injury. If
he will by express writing desire us to forget his unkind doings, or will
declare that what we consider unkindness has been wrongly imputed to him,
we will gladly embrace his overtures; but as we have sustained the wrong
we will not be suitors for reconciliation. As to the Bishop of Rome, we
have not proceeded on such slight grounds as we would revoke or alter any
part of our doings, having laid our foundation on the Law of God, nature,
and honesty, and established our work thereupon with the consent of the
Estates of the Realm in open and high court of Parliament. A proposal has
been made to us by the Bishop himself which we have not yet embraced, nor
would it be expedient that a reconciliation should be compassed by any
other means. We should not think the Emperor earnestly desired a
reconciliation with us, if he desired us to alter anything for the
satisfaction of the Bishop of Rome, our enemy.

"As to our daughter Mary, if she will submit to the laws we will
acknowledge and use her as our daughter; but we will not be directed or
pressed therein. It is as meet for us to order things here without search
for foreign advice as for the Emperor to determine his affairs without our
counsel. About the Turks, we can come to no certain resolution; but if a
reconciliation of the affairs of Christendom ensue, we will not fail to do
our duty. Before we can treat of aid against the French King the amity
with the Emperor must first be renewed."[391]




CHAPTER XXII.

Easter at Greenwich--French and Imperial factions at the English court--
Influence of Anne Boleyn--Reports of Anne's conduct submitted to the
King--Flying rumours--Secret Commission of Inquiry--Arrests of various
persons--Sir Henry Norris and the King--Anne before the Privy Council--
Sent to the Tower--Her behaviour and admissions--Evidence taken before the
Commission--Trials of Norris, Weston, Brereton, and Smeton--Letter of
Weston--Trial of Anne and her brother--Executions--Speech of Rochford on
the scaffold--Anne sentenced to die--Makes a confession to Cranmer--
Declared to have not been the King's lawful wife--Nature of the confession
not known--Execution.


At the moment when the King was bearing himself so proudly at the most
important crisis of his reign, orthodox historians require us to believe
that he was secretly contriving to rid himself of Anne Boleyn by a foul
and false accusation, that he might proceed immediately to a new marriage
with another lady. Men who are meditating enormous crimes have usually
neither leisure nor attention for public business. It is as certain as
anything in history can be certain that to startle Europe with a domestic
scandal while mighty issues were at stake on which the fate of England
depended was the last subject with which England's King was likely to have
been occupied. He was assuming an attitude of haughty independence, where
he would need all his strength and all the confidence of his subjects. To
conspire at such a moment against the honour and life of a miserable and
innocent woman would have occurred to no one who was not a maniac. Rumour
had been busy spreading stories that he was weary of Anne and meant to
part with her; but a few days previously he had dissolved the Parliament
which for seven years had been described as the complacent instrument of
his will. He could not be equally assured of the temper of another,
hastily elected, in the uneasy condition of the public mind; and, without
a Parliament, he could take no action which would affect the succession.
However discontented he might be with his present Queen, the dissolution
of Parliament is a conclusive proof that at the time of Chapuys's visit to
Greenwich he was not contemplating a matrimonial convulsion. Probably, in
spite of all the stories set flowing into Chapuys's long ears by the
ladies of the household, he had resolved to bear his fortune, bad as it
was, and was absolutely ignorant of the revelation which was about to
break upon him. Husbands are proverbially the last to know of their wives'
infidelities; and the danger of bringing charges which could not be
substantiated against a woman in Anne's position would necessarily keep
every lip shut till the evidence could be safely brought forward. Cromwell
appears to have been in possession of important information for many
weeks. The exposure, however, might still have been delayed, but for the
unfavourable answer of the King to the Emperor's advances, which had so
much distressed the advocates of a renewal of the amity. France was now
going to war, and making large offers for the English alliance. Henry,
though his affection for Anne had cooled, still resented the treatment
which he had received from Charles, and had a fair opportunity of
revenging himself. The wisest of his Ministers were against Continental
adventures, and wished him earnestly to accept the return of a friendship
the loss of which had cost the country so dear. But the French faction at
the court, Anne and her relations, and the hot-tempered young men who
surrounded him, were still able to work upon his wounded pride. Could they
plunge the country into war at the side of Francis, they would recover
their ascendancy. Any day might see some fatal step taken which could not
be recovered. Both Anne and Rochford were bold, able, and unscrupulous,
and Cromwell, with a secret in his hand which would destroy them, saw that
the time was come to use it.

That it was not accident which connected the outburst of the storm on
Anne's head with the political negotiations is certain from Cromwell's own
words. He told Chapuys that it was the disappointment which he had felt at
the King's reply to him on the Wednesday after Easter that had led him to
apply the match to the train.[392]

A casual incident came to his assistance. A Privy Councillor, whose name
is not mentioned, having remarked sharply on the light behaviour of a
sister who was attached to the court, the young lady admitted her
offence, but said it was nothing in comparison with the conduct of the
Queen. She bade her brother examine Mark Smeton, a groom of the chamber
and a favourite musician.[393] The Privy Councillor related what he had
heard to two friends of the King, of whom Cromwell must have been one. The
case was so serious that they agreed that the King must be informed. They
told him. He started, changed colour, thanked them, and directed an
inquiry to be held in strict secrecy. The ladies of the bedchamber were
cross-questioned. Lady Worcester[394] was "the first accuser." "Nan
Cobham" and a maid gave other evidence; but "Lady Worcester was the first
ground."[395]

Nothing was allowed to transpire to disturb the festivities at Greenwich.
On St. George's Day, April 23, the Queen and her brother received an
intimation that they were in less favour than usual. The Chapter of the
Garter was held. An order was vacant; Anne asked that it should be given
to Lord Rochford, and the request was refused; it was conferred on her
cousin, Sir Nicholas Carew, to her great vexation. In this, however, there
was nothing to alarm her. The next day, the 24th, a secret committee was
appointed to receive depositions, consisting of the Chancellor, the
Judges, Cromwell, and other members of Council; and by this time whispers
were abroad that something was wrong, for Chapuys, writing on the 29th of
April, said that "it would not be Carew's fault if Anne was not out of the
saddle before long, as he had heard that he was daily conspiring against
her and trying to persuade Mistress Seymour and her friends to work her
ruin. Four days ago [i. e. on April 25] Carew and other gentlemen sent
word to the Princess to take courage, as the King was tired of the
Concubine and would not endure her long."[396] Geoffrey Pole, Reginald's
brother, a loose-tongued gentleman, told Chapuys that the Bishop of London
(Stokesley) had been lately asked whether the King could dismiss the
Concubine; the Bishop had declined to give an opinion till the King asked
for it, and even then would not speak till he knew the King's intention.
The Bishop, Chapuys said, was one of the promoters of the first divorce,
and was now penitent, the Concubine and all her family being accursed
Lutherans.[397]

Such stories were but surmise and legend. I insert them to omit nothing
which may be construed into an indication of conspiracy. The Commission
meanwhile was collecting facts which grew more serious every day. On
Thursday, the 27th, Sir William Brereton, a gentleman of the King's Privy
Chamber, was privately sent to the Tower, and on the 30th was followed
thither by the musician Smeton. The next morning, the 1st of May, High
Festival was held at Greenwich. A tournament formed a part of the
ceremony, with the Court in attendance. Anne sate in a gallery as Queen of
the day, while her knights broke lances for her, caring nothing for flying
scandal, and unsuspecting the abyss which was opening under her feet. Sir
Henry Norris and Lord Rochford were in the lists as defender and
challenger, when, suddenly, the King rose; the pageant was broken up in
confusion; Henry mounted his horse and, followed by a small train, rode
off for London, taking Norris with him. Sir Henry Norris was one of
Henry's most intimate personal friends. He was his equerry, and often
slept in his room or in an adjoining closet. The inquiries of the
Commission had not yet implicated him as a principal, but it had appeared
that circumstances were known to him which he ought to have revealed. The
King promised to forgive him if he would tell the truth, but the truth was
more than he could dare to reveal. On the following day he, too, was sent
to the Tower, having been first examined before the Commissioners, to
whom--perhaps misled by some similar hope of pardon held out to him by Sir
William Fitzwilliam--he confessed more than it was possible to pardon, and
then withdrew what he had acknowledged.[398] So far, Smeton only had
confessed to "any actual thing," and it was thought the King's honour
would be touched if the guilt of the rest was not proved more clearly.

Anne had been left at Greenwich. On the next morning she was brought
before the Council there, her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, presiding. She
was informed that she was charged with adultery with various persons. Her
answers, such as they were, the Duke set aside as irrelevant. She
complained afterwards that she had been "cruelly handled" by the Council.
It was difficult not to be what she would consider cruel. She, too, was
conducted up the river to the Tower, where she found that to Smeton and
Brereton and Norris another gentleman of the household, Sir Francis
Weston, had now been added. A small incident is mentioned which preserves
a lost practice of the age. "On the evening of the day on which the
Concubine was sent to the Tower, the Duke of Richmond went to his father
to ask his blessing, according to the English custom. The King said, in
tears, that he, and his sister the Princess, ought to thank God for having
escaped the hands of that woman, who had planned to poison them."[399]

Chapuys made haste to inform the Emperor of the welcome catastrophe. The
Emperor, he said, would recollect the expressions which he had reported as
used by Cromwell regarding the possible separation of the King and the
Concubine. Both he and the Princess had been ever since anxious that such
a separation should be brought about. What they had desired had come to
pass better than any one could have hoped, to the great disgrace of the
Concubine, who, by the judgment of God, had been brought in full daylight
from Greenwich to the Tower, in charge of the Duke of Norfolk and two
chamberlains. Report said it was for continued adultery with a
spinet-player belonging to her household. The player had been committed to
the Tower also, and, after him, Sir H. Norris, the most familiar and
private companion of the King, for not having revealed the matter.[400]

Fresh news poured in as Chapuys was writing. Before closing his despatch
he was able to add that Sir Francis Weston and Lord Rochford were arrested
also. The startling story flew from lip to lip, gathering volume as it
went. Swift couriers carried it to Paris. Viscount Hannaert, the Imperial
Ambassador there,[401] wrote to Granvelle that Anne had been surprised in
bed with the King's organist.[402] In the course of the investigation,
witnesses had come forward to say that nine years previously a marriage
had been made and consummated between Anne and Percy, Earl of
Northumberland. Percy, however, swore, and received the sacrament upon it,
before the Duke of Norfolk and the Archbishops of Canterbury and York,
that no contract or promise of marriage of any kind had passed between
them.[403] Anne's attendants in the Tower had been ordered to note what
she might say. She denied that she was guilty, sometimes with hysterical
passion, sometimes with a flighty levity; but not, so far as her words are
recorded, with the clearness of conscious innocence. She admitted that
with Norris, Weston, and Smeton she had spoken foolishly of their love for
herself, and of what might happen were the King to die. Smeton, on his
second examination, confessed that he had on three several occasions
committed adultery with the Queen. Norris repudiated his admissions to Sir
William Fitzwilliam--what they were is unknown--and offered to maintain
his own innocence and the Queen's with sword and lance. Weston and
Brereton persisted in absolute denial.

Meanwhile the Commission continued to take evidence. A more imposing list
of men than those who composed it could not have been collected in
England. The members of it were the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk,
the Duke of Suffolk, Lord Wiltshire, Anne's and Rochford's father, the
Earls of Oxford, Westmoreland, and Sussex, Lord Sandys, Thomas Cromwell,
Sir William Fitzwilliam, the Lord High Admiral, Sir William Paulet, Lord
Treasurer, and nine judges of the courts at Westminster. Before these
persons the witnesses were examined and their depositions written down.
"The confessions," Cromwell wrote afterwards to Gardiner, "were so
abominable that a great part of them were not given in evidence, but were
clearly kept secret."[404]

The alleged offences had been committed in two counties. The Grand Juries
of Kent and Middlesex returned true bills on the case presented to them.
On the 7th of May writs were sent out for a new Parliament, to be chosen
and to meet immediately. The particular charges had been submitted to the
Grand Juries with time, place, and circumstance. The details have been
related by me elsewhere.[405] In general the indictment was that for a
period of more than two years, from within a few weeks after the birth of
Elizabeth to the November immediately preceding, the Queen had repeatedly
committed acts of adultery with Sir Henry Norris, Sir William Brereton,
Sir Francis Weston, Mark Smeton, and her brother Lord Rochford. In every
case the instigation and soliciting were alleged to have been on the
Queen's side. The particulars were set out circumstantially, the time at
which the solicitations were made, how long an interval elapsed between
the solicitation and the act, and when and where the several acts were
committed. Finally it was said that the Queen had promised to marry some
one of these traitors whenever the King depart this life, affirming that
she would never love the King in her heart.

Of all these details evidence of some kind must have been produced before
the Commission, and it was to this that Cromwell referred in his letter to
Gardiner. The accused gentlemen were all of them in situations of trust
and confidence at the court, with easy access to the Queen's person, and,
if their guilt was real, the familiarity to which they were admitted
through their offices was a special aggravation of their offences.

In a court so jealous, and so divided, many eyes were on the watch and
many tongues were busy. None knew who might be implicated, or how far the
Queen's guilt had extended. Suspicion fell on her cousin, Sir Francis
Bryan, who was sharply examined by Cromwell. Suspicion fell also on Anne's
old lover, Sir Thomas Wyatt, Surrey's friend, to whom a letter survives,
written on the occasion by his father, Sir Henry. The old man told his son
he was sorry that he was too ill to do his duty to his King in that
dangerous time when the King had suffered by false traitors. He prayed God
long to give _him_ grace, to be with him and about him that had found out
the matter, and the false traitors to be punished to the example of
others.[406]

Cranmer had been much attached to Anne. The Catholic party being so bitter
against her, she had made herself the patroness of the Protestant
preachers, and had protected them against persecution. The Archbishop had
regarded her as an instrument of Providence, and when the news reached him
of the arrest and the occasion of it he was thunderstruck. He wrote an
anxious and beautiful letter to the King, expressing a warm belief and
hope that the Queen would be able to clear herself. Before he could send
it he was invited to meet the Council in the Star Chamber. On his return
he added a postscript that he was very sorry such faults could be proved
by the Queen as he heard of their relation.[407]

On Friday, the 12th of May, the four commoners were brought up for trial.
The Court sat in Westminster Hall, Lord Wiltshire being on the bench with
the rest. Their guilt, if proved, of course involved the guilt of his
daughter. The prisoners were brought to the bar and the indictment was
read. Smeton pleaded guilty of adultery, but not guilty of the inferential
charge of compassing the death of the King. The other three held to their
denial. Weston was married. His mother and his young wife appeared in
court, "oppressed with grief," to petition for him, offering "rents and
goods" for his deliverance;[408] but it could not avail. The jury found
against them all, and they were sentenced to die. Two letters to Lord and
Lady Lisle from a friend in London convey something of the popular
feeling.

     "John Husee to Lady Lisle.

     May 13.

     "Madam, I think verily if all the books and chronicles were totally
     revolved and to the uttermost persecuted and tried, which against
     women hath been penned, contrived, and written since Adam and Eve,
     those same were, I think, verily nothing in comparison of that which
     hath been done and committed by Anne the Queen, which though I
     presume be not all things as it is now rumoured, yet that which hath
     been by her confessed, and other offenders with her, by her own
     alluring, procurement, and instigation, is so abominable and
     detestable, that I am ashamed that any good woman should give ear
     thereunto. I pray God give her grace to repent while she now liveth.
     I think not the contrary but she and all they shall suffer."[409]


     "To Lord Lisle.

     Same date.

     "Here are so many tales I cannot tell what to write. Some say young
     Weston shall scape, and some that none shall die but the Queen and
     her brother; others, that Wyatt and Mr. Page are as like to suffer as
     the rest. If any escape, it will be young Weston, for whom
     importunate suit is made."

Great interest was felt in Sir F. Weston. The appearance of his wife and
mother in court had created general compassion for him. He was young,
rich, accomplished. He was well known in Paris, had been much liked there.
M. d'Intevelle, who had been his friend, hurried over to save him, and the
Bishop of Tarbes, the resident Ambassador, earnestly interceded. Money, if
money could be of use, was ready to be lavished. But like Norris, Weston
had been distinguished by Henry with peculiar favour; and if he had
betrayed the confidence that was placed in him he had nothing to plead
which would entitle him to special mercy. A letter has been preserved,
written by Weston to his family after his sentence, inclosing an inventory
of his debts, which he desired might be paid. If any one can believe,
after reading it, that the writer was about to die for a crime of which
he knew that he was innocent, I shall not attempt to reason with such a
person.

     "Father, mother, and wife,

     "I shall humbly desire you, for the salvation of my soul, to
     discharge me of this bill, and forgive me all the offences that I
     have done unto you, and in especial to my wife, which I desire for
     the love of God to forgive me and to pray for me; for I believe
     prayer will do me good. God's blessing have my children and mine.

     "By me, a great offender to God."[410]

On Sunday the 14th a report of the proceedings up to that moment was sent
by Cromwell to Sir John Wallop and Gardiner at Paris. The story, he said,
was now notorious to every one, but he must inform them further how the
truth had been discovered and how the King had proceeded. The Queen's
incontinent living was so rank and common that the ladies of the Privy
Chamber could not conceal it. It came to the ears of some of the Council,
who told his Majesty, though with great fear, as the case enforced.
Certain persons of the household and others who had been about the Queen's
person were examined; and the matter appeared so evident that, besides the
crime, there brake out a certain conspiracy of the King's death, which
extended so far that they that had the examination of it quaked at the
danger his Grace was in, and on their knees gave God laud and praise that
he had preserved him so long from it. Certain men were committed to the
Tower, Mark and Norris, and the Queen's brother. Then she herself was
apprehended; after her, Sir Francis Weston and Brereton. Norris, Weston,
Brereton, and Mark were already condemned to death, having been arraigned
at Westminster on the past Friday. The queen and her brother were to be
arraigned the next day. He wrote no particulars. The things were so
abominable that the like was never heard.[411]

Anne Boleyn was already condemned by implication. The guilt of her
paramours was her own. She herself was next brought to the bar, with her
brother, to be tried by the Peers. The court was held at the Tower.
Norfolk presided as High Steward. Lord Wiltshire was willing to sit, but
the tragedy was terrible enough without further aggravation, and the world
was spared the spectacle of a father taking part in the conviction of his
own children on a charge so hideous. The Earl of Northumberland did sit,
though ill from anxiety and agitation. Twenty-five other Peers took their
places also.

The account of the proceedings is preserved in outline in the official
record; a further detailed description was furnished by Chapuys to the
Emperor, containing new and curious particulars.

On Monday the 15th of May, Chapuys wrote, the Concubine and her brother
were condemned for treason by the principal nobles of England. The Duke of
Norfolk passed sentence, and Chapuys was told that the Earl of Wiltshire
was ready to assist at the trial, as he had done at that of the rest. The
_putaine_ and her brother were not taken to Westminster, as the others had
been, but were brought to the bar at the Tower. No secret was made of it,
however, for over two thousand persons were present. The principal charge
against her was that she had cohabited with her brother and the other
accomplices, that a promise had passed between her and Norris that she
would marry him after the King's decease--a proof that they had desired
his death; that she had exchanged medals with Norris, implying that they
were leagued together; that she had poisoned the late Queen, and intended
to poison the Princess.[412] To most of these charges she returned an
absolute denial; others she answered plausibly, but confessed having given
money to Weston and to other gentlemen. She was likewise charged, and the
brother also, with having ridiculed the King, showing in many ways she had
no love for him, and was tired of her life with him. The brother was
accused of having had connection with his sister. No proof of his guilt
was produced, except that of having been once alone with her for many
hours, and other small follies. He replied so well that many who were
present were betting two to one he would be acquitted.

Another charge against him was that the Concubine had told his wife that
the King was unequal to his duties.[413] This was not read out in court;
it was given to Rochford in writing, with a direction not to make it
public, but to say merely yes or no. To the great annoyance of Cromwell
and others, who did not wish suspicions to be created which might
prejudice the King's issue, Rochford read it aloud.[414]

He was accused also of having used words implying a doubt whether Anne's
daughter was the King's, to which he made no answer.

The brother and sister were tried separately and did not see each other.
The Concubine was sentenced to be burnt alive or beheaded, at the King's
pleasure. When she heard her fate she received it calmly, saying that she
was ready to die, but was sorry that others who were innocent and loyal
should suffer on her account. She begged for a short respite, to dispose
her conscience. The brother said that, since die he must, he would no
longer plead "not guilty," but would confess that he deserved death, and
requested only that his debts might be paid out of his property.[415]

Two days after the trial of the Queen and Rochford, the five gentlemen
suffered on Tower Hill. The Concubine, wrote Chapuys, saw them executed
from the windows of the Tower, to enhance her misery. The Lord Rochford
declared himself innocent of everything with which he was charged,
although he confessed that he had deserved death for having contaminated
himself with the new sects of religion, and for having infected many
others. For this he said that God had justly punished him. He prayed all
the world to keep clear of heresy, and his words would cause the recovery
and conversion of innumerable souls.[416] This is a good instance of
Chapuys's manner, and is a warning against an easy acceptance of his
various stories. It is false that Rochford declared himself innocent of
the adultery. It is false that he said that he deserved death for heresy.
He said nothing--not a word--about heresy. What he did say is correctly
given in Wriothesley's Chronicle, which confirms the report sent from
London to the Regent of the Netherlands.[417] The Spanish writer says that
his address was "_muy bien Catolica_," but it will be seen that he
carefully avoided a denial of the crime for which he suffered.

"Masters all, I am come hither not to preach a sermon, but to die, as the
law hath found me, and to the law I submit me, desiring you all, and
specially my masters of the Court, that you will trust in God specially,
and not in the vanities of the world; for if I had so done I think I had
been alive as ye be now. Also I desire you to help to the setting forth of
the true Word of God; I have been diligent to read it and set it forth
truly; but if I had been as diligent to observe it and done and lived
thereafter as I was to read it and set it forth, I had not come hereto.
Wherefore I beseech you all to be workers and live thereafter, and not to
read it and live not thereafter. As for my offences, it cannot avail you
to hear them that I die here for; but I beseech God that I may be an
example to you all, and that all you may beware by me, and heartily I
require you all to pray for me and to forgive me if I have offended you,
and I forgive you all, and God save the king."[418]

Of the other four, Smeton and Brereton admitted the justice of their
sentence, Brereton adding that, if he had to die a thousand deaths, he
deserved them all. Norris was almost silent. Weston lamented in general
terms the wickedness of his past life. From not one of the five came the
indignant repudiation of a false accusation which might have been surely
looked for from innocent men, and especially to be looked for when the
Queen's honour was compromised along with theirs.

A Protestant spectator of the execution, a follower of Sir H. Norris, and
a friend and schoolfellow of Brereton, said that at first he and all other
friends of the Gospel had been unable to believe that the Queen had
behaved so abominably. "As he might be saved before God, he could not
believe it, till he heard them speak at their death; but in a manner all
confessed but Mr. Norris, who said almost nothing at all."[419]

Dying men hesitate to leave the world with a lie on their lips. It appears
to me, therefore, that these five gentlemen did not deny their guilt,
because they knew that they were guilty. The unfortunate Anne was still
alive; and while there was life there was hope. A direct confession on
their part would have been a confession for her as well as themselves, and
they did not make it; but, if they were really innocent, that they should
have suffered as they did without an effort to clear themselves or her is
one more inexplicable mystery in this extraordinary story.

Something even more strange was to follow.

At her trial Anne had been "unmoved as a stone, and had carried herself as
if she was receiving some great honour." She had been allowed a chair, and
had bowed to the Peers as she took her seat. She said little, "but her
face spoke more than words, and no one to look on her would have thought
her guilty." "She protested that she had not misconducted herself." When
Norfolk delivered sentence her face did not change. She said merely that
she would not dispute the judgment, but appealed to God.[420] Smeton had
repeated his own confession on the scaffold. She turned pale when she was
told of it. "Did he not acquit me of the infamy he has laid on me?" she
said. "Alas, I fear his soul will suffer for it!"[421]

But she had asked for time to prepare her conscience and for spiritual
help; she called herself a Lutheran, and on the Tuesday, the day after her
trial, Cranmer went to the Tower to hear her confession. She then told the
Archbishop something which, if true, invalidated her marriage with the
King; if she had not been his wife, her intrigues were not technically
treason, and Cranmer perhaps gave her hope that this confession might save
her, for she said afterwards to Sir William Kingston that she expected to
be spared and would retire into a nunnery.[422] The confession, whatever
it might be, was produced on the following day by the Archbishop sitting
judicially at Lambeth,[423] and was there considered by three
ecclesiastical lawyers, who gave as their opinion that she had never been
the King's lawful wife, and this opinion was confirmed by the Chancellor,
the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl of Oxford, and a committee of bishops. The
confession itself belonged to the secrets which Cromwell described as "too
abominable to be made known," and was never published. The judgment of the
Archbishop itself was ratified on the 28th of June by the two Houses of
Convocation. It was laid before Parliament and was made the basis of a new
arrangement of the succession. But the Statute merely says "that God, from
whom no secret things could be hid, had caused to be brought to light
evident and open knowledge of certain impediments unknown at the making of
the previous Act, and since that time confessed by the Lady Anne before
the Archbishop of Canterbury, sitting judicially for the same, whereby it
appeared that the marriage was never good nor consonant to the laws."

Conjecture was, of course, busy over so singular a mystery. Some said that
the Archbishop had declared Elizabeth to have been Norris's bastard, and
not the daughter of the King. Others revived the story of Henry's supposed
intrigue with Anne's sister, Mary, and Chapuys added a story which even he
did not affect to believe, agreeable as it must have been to him. "Many
think," he said, "that the Concubine had become so audacious in vice,
because most of the new bishops had persuaded her that she need not go to
confession; and that, according to the new sect, it was lawful to seek aid
elsewhere, even from her own relations, when her husband was not able to
satisfy her."[424] The Wriothesley Chronicle says positively that, on the
17th of May, in the afternoon, at a solemn court kept at Lambeth by the
Archbishop of Canterbury and the doctors of the law, the King was divorced
from his wife, Queen Anne; and there at the same court was a privy
contract approved that she had made to the Earl of Northumberland, afore
the King's time, and so she was discharged, and was never lawful Queen of
England.[425]

There are difficulties in accepting either of these conjectures. Chapuys,
like Dr. Lingard after him, decided naturally for the hypothesis most
disgraceful to the King. The Mary Boleyn story, authoritatively confirmed,
at once covered Henry's divorce process with shame, and established the
superior claim of Mary to the succession.[426] But in the Act of
Parliament the cause is described as something unknown in 1533, when the
first Statute was passed: and the alleged intrigue had then been the
common subject of talk in Catholic circles and among the Opposition
members of Parliament. The Act says that the cause was a fact confessed
by the Lady Anne. The Lady Anne might confess her own sins, but her
confession of the sins of others was not a confession at all, and could
have carried no validity unless supported by other evidence. Chapuys's
assertion requires us to suppose that Henry, being informed of Anne's
allegation, consented to the establishment of his own disgrace by making
it the subject of a legal investigation; that he thus himself allowed a
crime to be substantiated against him which covered him with infamy, and
which no other attempt was ever made to prove. How did Chapuys know that
this was the cause of the divorce of Anne? If it was communicated to
Parliament, it must have become the common property of the realm, and have
been no longer open to question. If it was not communicated, but was
accepted by Parliament, itself on the authority of the Council, who were
Chapuys's informants, and how did they know? Under Chapuys's hypothesis
the conduct of King, Council, Parliament, and Convocation becomes
gratuitous folly--folly to which there was no temptation and for which
there was no necessity. The King had only to deny the truth of the story,
and nothing further would have been made of it. The real evidence for the
_liaison_ with Mary Boleyn is the ineradicable conviction of a certain
class of minds that the most probable interpretation of every act of Henry
is that which most combines stupidity and wickedness. To argue such a
matter is useless. Those who believe without reason cannot be convinced by
reason.

The Northumberland explanation is less improbable, but to this also there
are many objections. Northumberland himself had denied on oath, a few days
before, that any contract had ever passed between Anne and himself. If he
was found to have perjured himself, he would have been punished, or, at
least, disgraced; yet, a few months later, in the Pilgrimage of Grace, he
had the King's confidence, and deserved it by signal loyalty. The Norris
story is the least unlikely. The first act of criminality with Anne
mentioned in the indictment was stated to have been committed with Norris
four weeks after the birth of Elizabeth, and the intimacy may have been
earlier; while the mystery observed about it may be better accounted for,
since, if it had been avowed, Elizabeth's recognition as the King's
daughter would have made ever after impossible, and the King did believe
that she was really his own daughter.

But here, again, there is no evidence. The explanation likeliest of all is
that it was something different from each of these--one of the confessions
which had been kept back as "too abominable." It is idle to speculate on
the antecedents of such a woman as Anne Boleyn.

If she had expected that her confession would save her, she was mistaken.
To marry a king after a previous unacknowledged intrigue was in those days
constructive treason, since it tainted the blood royal.[427] The tragedy
was wound up on Friday, the 19th of May; the scene was the green in front
of the Tower. Foreigners were not admitted, but the London citizens had
collected in great numbers, and the scaffold had been built high that
everyone might see. The Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, the young Duke
of Richmond--then himself sick to death--Cromwell, and other members of
the Council, were present by the King's order. Throughout the previous day
Anne had persisted in declaring her innocence. In the evening she had been
hysterical, had talked and made jokes. The people would call her "Queen
Anne _sans tête_," she said, and "laughed heartily." In the morning at
nine o'clock she was led out by Sir William Kingston, followed by four of
her ladies. She looked often over her shoulder, and on the fatal platform
was much "amazed and exhausted."

When the time came for her to speak, she raised her eyes to heaven and
said, "Masters, I submit me to the law, as the law has judged me, and as
for my offences, I accuse no man. God knoweth them. I remit them to God,
beseeching him to have mercy on my soul. I beseech Jesu save my sovereign
and master, the King, the most godly, noble, and gentle Prince there
is."[428] She then laid her head on the block and so ended; she, too,
dying without at the last denying the crime for which she suffered. Of the
six who were executed not one made a protestation of innocence. If
innocent they were, no similar instance can be found in the history of
mankind.




CHAPTER XXIII.

Competition for Henry's hand--Solicitations from France and from the
Emperor--Overtures from the Pope--Jane Seymour--General eagerness for the
King's marriage--Conduct of Henry in the interval before Anne's
execution--Marriage with Jane Seymour--Universal satisfaction--The
Princess Mary--Proposal for a General Council--Neutrality of England in
the war between France and the Empire.


Human nature is said to be the same in all ages and countries. Manners, if
it be so, signally vary. Among us, when a wife dies, some decent interval
is allowed before her successor is spoken of. The execution for adultery
of a Queen about whom all Europe had been so long and so keenly agitated
might have been expected to be followed by a pause. No pause, however,
ensued after the fall of Anne Boleyn. If Henry had been the most
interesting and popular of contemporary princes, there could not have been
greater anxiety to secure his vacant hand. Had he been the most pious of
Churchmen, the Pope could not have made greater haste to approach him with
offers of friendship. There was no waiting even for the result of the
trial. No sooner was it known that Anne had been committed to the Tower
for adultery than the result was anticipated as a certainty. It was
assumed as a matter of course that the King would instantly look for
another wife, and Francis and the Emperor lost not a moment in trying each
to be beforehand with the other. M. d'Inteville had come over to
intercede for Sir Francis Weston, but he brought a commission to treat for
a marriage between Henry and a French princess. To this overture the King
replied at once that it could not be, and, according to Chapuys, added
ungraciously, and perhaps with disgust, that he had experienced already
the effects of French education.[429] The words, perhaps, were used to
Cromwell, and not to the French Ambassador; but Chapuys was hardly less
surprised when Cromwell, in reporting them, coolly added that the King
could not marry out of the realm, because, if a French princess
misconducted herself, they could not punish her as they had punished the
last.[430] The Ambassador did not understand irony, and was naturally
startled, for he had received instructions to make a similar application
on behalf of his own master. Charles was eager to secure the prize, and,
anticipating Anne's fate, he despatched a courier to Chapuys on hearing of
her arrest, with orders to seize the opportunity. "If Hannaert's news be
true," he wrote on the 15th of May, the day of the trial at Westminster,
"the King, now that God has permitted this woman's damnable life to be
discovered, may be more inclined to treat with us, and there may be a
better foundation for an arrangement in favour of the Princess. But you
must use all your skill to prevent a marriage with France. The King should
rather choose one of his own subjects, either the lady for whom he has
already shown a preference or some other."

So far Charles had written when Chapuys's messenger arrived with later
news. "George has just come," the Emperor then continued, "and I have
heard from him what has passed about the Concubine. It is supposed that
she and the partners of her guilt will be executed, and that the King,
being of amorous complexion and anxious, as he has always pretended, for a
male heir, will now marry immediately. Overtures will certainly be made to
him from France. You will endeavour, either as of yourself or through
Cromwell, to arrange a match for him with the Infanta of Portugal, my
niece, who has a settlement by will of 400,000 ducats. Simultaneously you
will propose another marriage between the Princess Mary and the Infant of
Portugal, Don Louis, my brother-in-law. You will point out that these
alliances will remove past unpleasantness, and will unite myself, the
King, and our respective countries. You will show the advantage that will
accrue to the realm of England should a Prince be the result, and we may
reasonably hope that it will be so, the Infanta being young and well
nurtured. If you find the King disinclined to this marriage, you may
propose my niece, the Duchess Dowager of Milan, a beautiful young lady
with a good dowry."[431]

On the same 15th of May Granvelle, no less eager, wrote to Chapuys also.
"M. l'Ambassadeur, my good brother and friend, I have received your
letters and have heard what your messenger had to tell me. You have done
well to keep us informed about the Concubine. It is indeed fine music and
food for laughter.[432] God is revealing the iniquity of those from whom
so much mischief has risen. We must make our profit of it, and manage
matters as the Emperor directs. Use all your diligence and dexterity.
Immense advantage will follow, public and private. You will yourself not
fail of your reward for your true and faithful services."[433]

So anxious was Charles for fresh matrimonial arrangements with Henry, that
he wrote again to the same purpose three days later--a strange wish if he
believed Catherine to have been murdered, or her successor to be on the
eve of execution because the King was tired of her. To Charles and
Granvelle, as to Chapuys himself, the unfortunate Anne was the English
Messalina. The Emperor and all the contemporary world saw in her nothing
but a wicked woman at last detected and brought to justice.[434]

What came of these advances will be presently seen; but, before
proceeding, a glance must be given at the receipt of the intelligence of
Anne's fall at the Holy See. This also was _chose de rire_. Chapuys had
sent to Rome in the past winter a story that Henry had said Anne Boleyn
had bewitched him. The Pope had taken it literally, and had supposed that
when the witch was removed the enchantment would end. He sent for Sir
Gregory Casalis on the 17th of May, and informed him of what he had heard
from England. He said that he had always recognised the many and great
qualities of the King; and those qualities he did not doubt would now
show themselves, as he had been relieved from his unfortunate marriage.
Let the King reattach himself to Holy Church and take the Pope for an
ally; they could then give the law both to the Emperor and to the King of
France, and the entire glory of restoring peace to Christendom would
attach to Henry himself. The King, he said, had no cause to regard him as
an enemy; for he had always endeavored to be his friend. In the
matrimonial cause he had remonstrated in private with his predecessor. At
Bologna he had argued for four hours with the Emperor, trying to persuade
him that the King ought not to be interfered with.[435] Never had he
desired to offend the King, although so many violent acts had been done in
England against the Holy See. He had made the Bishop of Rochester a
cardinal solely with a view to the General Council, and because the Bishop
had written a learned book against Luther. On the Bishop's execution, he
had been compelled to say and do certain things, but he had never intended
to give effect to them.

If the Pope had thought the King to have been right in his divorce suit,
it was not easy to understand why he had excommunicated him and tried to
deprive him of his crown because he had disobeyed a judgment thus
confessed to have been unjust. Casalis asked him if he was to communicate
what he had said to the King. The Pope, after reflecting a little, said
that Casalis might communicate it as of himself; that he might tell the
King that the Pope was well-disposed towards him, and that he might
expect every favour from the Pope. Casalis wrote in consequence that on
the least hint that the King desired a reconciliation, a Nuncio would be
sent to England to do everything that could be found possible; after the
many injuries which he had received, opinion at Rome would not permit the
Pope to make advances until he was assured that they would be well
received; but some one would be sent in Casalis's name bringing
credentials from his Holiness.

Never since the world began was a dastardly assassination, if Anne Boleyn
was an innocent woman, rewarded with so universal a solicitation for the
friendship of the assassin. In England the effect was the same. Except by
the Lutherans, Anne had been universally hated, and the king was regarded
with the respectful compassion due to a man who had been cruelly injured.
The late marriage had been tolerated out of hope for the birth of the
Prince who was so passionately longed for. Even before the discovery of
Anne's conduct, a considerable party, with the Princess Mary among them,
had desired to see the King separated from her and married to some other
respectable woman. Jane Seymour had been talked about as a steady friend
of Catherine, and, when Catherine was gone, of the Princess. The King had
paid her attentions which, if Chapuys's stories were literally true--as
probably they were not--had been of a marked kind. In all respects she was
the opposite of Anne. She had plain features, pale complexion, a low
figure--in short, had no personal beauty, or any pretensions to it, with
nothing in her appearance to recommend her, except her youth. She was
about twenty-five years of age. She was not witty either, or brilliant;
but she was modest, quiet, with a strong understanding and rectitude of
principle, and, so far as her age and her opportunities allowed, she had
taken Mary's part at the court. Perhaps this had recommended her to Henry.
Whether he had himself ever seriously thought of dismissing Anne and
inviting Jane Seymour to take her place is very dubious; nor has anyone a
right to suppose that under such conditions Jane Seymour would have
regarded such a proposal as anything but an insult. How soon after the
detection of Anne's crime the intention was formed is equally
uncertain.[436] Every person at home and abroad regarded it as obvious
that he must marry some one, and marry at once. He himself professed to be
unwilling, "unless he was constrained by his subjects."

In Chapuys's letters, truth and lies are so intermixed that all his
personal stories must be received with distrust. Invariably, however, he
believed and reported the most scandalous rumours which he could hear.
Everybody, he said, rejoiced at the execution of the _putaine_; but there
were some who spoke variously of the King. He had heard, from good
authority, that in a conversation which passed between Mistress Seymour
and the King before the arrest of the Concubine, the lady urged him to
restore the Princess to the court. The King told her she was a fool; she
ought to be thinking more of the children which they might expect of their
own, than of the elevation of the other. The lady replied that in
soliciting for the Princess, she was consulting for the good of the King,
of herself, of her children should she have any, and of all the realm,
as, without it, the English nation would never be satisfied. Such a
conversation is not in itself likely to have been carried on _before_
Anne's arrest, and certainly not where it could be overheard by others;
especially as Chapuys admitted that the King said publicly he would not
marry anyone unless the Parliament invited him. One would like to know
what the trustworthy authority might have been. Unfortunately for the
veracity of his informant, he went on with an account of the King's
personal behaviour, the accuracy of which can be tested.

"People," he said, "had found it strange that the King, after having
received such ignominy, should have gone about at such a time banqueting
with ladies, sometimes remaining after midnight, and returning by the
river, accompanied by music and the singers of his chamber. He supped
lately," the Ambassador continued, "with several ladies at the house of
the Bishop of Carlisle, and showed extravagant joy." The Bishop came the
next morning to tell Chapuys of the visit, and added a story of the King
having said that he had written a tragedy on Anne's conduct which he
offered the Bishop to read.[437] Of John Kite, the Bishop of Carlisle,
little is known, save that Sir William Kingston said he used to play
"penny gleek" with him. But it happens that a letter exists, written on
the same day as Chapuys's, which describes Henry's conduct at precisely
the same period.

John Husee, the friend and agent of Lord Lisle, was in London on some
errand from his employer. His business required him to speak to the King,
and he said that he had been unable to obtain admittance, the King having
remained in strict seclusion from the day of Anne's arrest to her
execution. "His Grace," Husee wrote, "came not abroad this fortnight,
except it was in the garden or in his boat, when it may become no man to
interrupt him. Now that this matter is past I hope to see him."[438]

Chapuys was very clever; he may be believed, with limitations, when
writing on business or describing conversations of his own with particular
persons; but so malicious was he, and so careless in his matters of fact
or probability, that he cannot be believed at all when reporting
scandalous anecdotes which reached him from his "trustworthy authorities."

It is, however, true that, before the fortnight had expired, the King had
resolved to do what the Council recommended--marry Jane Seymour, and marry
her promptly, to close further solicitation from foreign Powers. There is
no sign that she had herself sought so questionable an elevation. A
powerful party in the State wished her to accept a position which could
have few attractions, and she seems to have acquiesced without difficulty.
Francis and Charles were offering their respective Princesses; the
readiest way to answer them without offence was to place the so much
coveted hand out of the reach of either. On the 20th of May, the morning
after Anne was beheaded, Jane Seymour was brought secretly by water to the
palace at Westminster, and was then and there formally betrothed to the
King. The marriage followed a few days later. On Ascension Day, the 25th
of May, the King, in rejecting the offered match from Francis, said that
he was not then actually married. On the 29th or 30th, Jane was formally
introduced as Queen.

Chapuys was disappointed in his expectation of popular displeasure. Not a
murmur was heard to break the expression of universal satisfaction. The
new Queen was a general favourite; everyone knew that she was a friend of
the Princess Mary, and everyone desired to see Mary replaced in her
rights. Fortunately for the Princess, the attempt at escape had never been
carried out. She had remained quietly watching the overthrow of her enemy,
and trusting the care of her fortunes to Cromwell, who, she knew, had
always been her advocate. She had avoided writing to him to intercede for
her, because, as she said, "I perceived that nobody dared speak for me as
long as that woman lived who is now gone, whom God in his mercy
forgive!"[439] The time had now come for her to be received back into
favour. Submission of some kind it would be necessary for her to make; and
the form in which it was to be done was the difficulty. The King could not
replace in the line of the succession a daughter who was openly defying
the law. Cromwell drew for Mary a sketch of a letter which he thought
would be sufficient. It was to acknowledge that she had offended her
father, to beg his blessing and his forgiveness, and to promise obedience
for the future, to congratulate him on his marriage, and to ask permission
to wait on the new Queen. He showed the draft to Chapuys, for the Princess
to transcribe and send. Chapuys objected that the surrender was too
absolute. Cromwell said that he might alter it if he pleased, and a saving
clause was introduced, not too conspicuous. She was to promise to submit
in all things "under God." In this form, apparently, the letter was
despatched, and was said to have given great satisfaction both to Henry
and the new Queen. Now it was thought that Mary would be restored to her
rank as Princess. She would be excluded from the succession only if a son
or daughter should be born of the new marriage; but this did not alarm
Chapuys, for "according to the opinion of many," he said, "there was no
fear of any issue of either sex."

On Ascension Day, the Ambassador had been admitted to an audience, the
first since the unprosperous discussion at Greenwich. The subject of the
treaty with the Emperor had been renewed under more promising auspices.
The King had been gracious. Chapuys had told him that the Emperor desired
to explain and justify the actions of which the King had complained; but
before entering on a topic which might renew unpleasant feelings, he said
that the Emperor had instructed him to consult the King's wishes; and he
undertook to conform to them. The King listened with evident satisfaction;
and a long talk followed, in the course of which the Ambassador introduced
the various proposals which the Emperor had made for fresh matrimonial
connections. The King said that Chapuys was a bringer of good news; his
own desire was to see a union of all Christian princes; if the Emperor was
in earnest, he hoped that he would furnish the Ambassador with the
necessary powers to negotiate, or would send a plenipotentiary for that
particular purpose.

The offer of the Infanta of Portugal for the King himself was, of course,
declined, the choice being already made; but Cromwell said afterwards that
Don Luis might perhaps be accepted for the Princess, the position of the
Princess being the chief point on which the stability of all other
arrangements must depend. As to the "General Council," it was not to be
supposed that the King wanted to set up "a God of his own," or to
separate himself from the rest of Christendom. He was as anxious as any
one for a Council, but it must be a Council called by the Emperor as chief
of Christian Europe. It is to be observed that Henry, as Head of the
Church of England, took upon himself the entire ordering of what was or
was not to be. Even the form of consulting the clergy was not so much as
thought of. Chapuys could not answer for as much indifference on the
Emperor's part. The Council, he thought, must be left in the Pope's hand
at the outset. The Council itself, when it assembled, could do as it
pleased. He suggested, however, that Cromwell should put in writing his
conception of the manner in which a Council could be called by the
Emperor, which Cromwell promised to do.

All things were thus appearing to run smooth. Four days later, when the
marriage with Jane Seymour had been completed, Chapuys saw Henry again.
The King asked him if he had heard further from the Emperor. Chapuys was
able to assent. Charles's eager letters had come in by successive posts,
and one had just arrived in which he had expressed his grief and
astonishment at the conduct of Anne Boleyn, had described how he had
spoken to his own Council about the woman's horrible ingratitude, and had
himself offered thanks to God for having discovered the conspiracy, and
saved the King from so great a danger. Henry made graceful
acknowledgments, replied most politely on the offer of the Infanta, for
which he said he was infinitely obliged to the Emperor, and conducted the
Ambassador into another room to introduce him to the Queen.

Chapuys was all courtesy. At Henry's desire he kissed and congratulated
Jane. The Emperor, he said, would be delighted that the King had found so
good and virtuous a wife. He assured her that the whole nation was united
in rejoicing at her marriage. He recommended the Princess to her care, and
hoped that she would have the honourable name of peacemaker.

The King answered for her that this was her nature. She would not for the
world that he went to war.

Chapuys was aware that Henry was not going to war on the side of
Francis--that danger had passed; but that he would not go to war at all
was not precisely what Chapuys wished to hear. What Charles wanted was
Henry's active help against the French. The fourth condition of the
proposed treaty was an alliance offensive and defensive. Henry merely said
he would mediate, and, if France would not agree to reasonable terms, he
would then declare for the Emperor.[440]

The Emperor, like many other persons, had attributed the whole of Henry's
conduct to the attractions of Anne Boleyn. He had supposed that after his
eyes had been opened he would abandon all that he had done, make his peace
with the Pope, and return to his old friends with renewed heartiness. He
was surprised and disappointed. Mediation would do no good at all, he
said. If the King would join him against France, the Emperor would
undertake to make no peace without including him, and would take security
for the honour and welfare of the realm. But he declined to quarrel with
the Pope to please the King; and if the King would not return to the
obedience of the Holy See or submit his differences with the Pope to the
Emperor and the Council, he said that he could make no treaty at all with
him. He directed Chapuys, however, to continue to discuss the matter in a
friendly way, to gain time till it could be seen how events would
turn.[441]

How events did turn is sufficiently well known. The war broke out--the
French invaded Italy; the Emperor, unable to expel them, turned upon
Provence, where he failed miserably with the loss of the greater part of
his army.

Henry took no part. The state of Europe was considered at length before
the English Council. Chapuys was heard, and the French Ambassador was
heard; and the result was a declaration of neutrality--the only honourable
and prudent course where the choice lay between two faithless friends who,
if the King had committed himself to either, would have made up their own
quarrels at England's expense.




CHAPTER XXIV.

Expectation that Henry would return to the Roman Communion--Henry persists
in carrying out the Reformation--The Crown and the clergy--Meeting of a
new Parliament--Fresh repudiation of the Pope's authority--Complications
of the succession--Attitude of the Princess Mary--Her reluctant
submission--The King empowered to name his successor by will--Indication
of his policy--The Pilgrimage of Grace--Cost of the Reformation--The
martyrs, Catholic and Protestant.


Whether Henry, on the exposure of the character of the woman for whom, in
the world's union, he had quarrelled with Rome and broken the union of
Christendom, would now reverse his course and return to the communion of
the Apostolic See, was the question on which all minds were exercising
themselves. The Pope and the European Powers were confident, believing the
reports which had reached them of the discontent in England. Cranmer
feared it, as he almost confessed in the letter which he wrote to the King
when he first heard of the arrest of Anne. She had been conspicuously
Lutheran; her family and her party were Lutheran, and the disgrace might
naturally extend to the cause which they represented. The King was to show
that he had not, as he said himself, "proceeded on such light grounds."
The divorce had been the spark which kindled the mine; but the explosive
force was in the temper of the English nation. The English nation was
weary of a tribunal which sold its decrees for money, or allowed itself to
be used as a tool by the Continental Sovereigns. It was weary of the
iniquities of its own Church Courts, which had plundered rich and poor at
their arbitrary pleasure--of a clergy which, protected by the immunities
which Becket had won for them, and restrained by no laws save those which
they themselves allowed, had made their lives a scandal and their
profession an offence. The property which had been granted them in pious
confidence for holy uses was squandered in luxurious self-indulgence; and
they had replied to the reforms which were forced upon them by disloyalty
and treason. They had been coerced into obedience; they had been brought
under the control of the law, punished for their crimes in spite of their
sacred calling under which they had claimed exemption, and been driven
into the position of ordinary citizens. Their prelates were no longer able
to seize and burn _ex officio_ obnoxious preachers, or imprison or ruin
under the name of heretics rash persons who dared to speak the truth of
them.

In exasperation at the invasion of these time-honoured privileges, they
denounced as sacrilege the statutes which had been required to restrain
them. They had conspired to provoke the Pope to excommunicate their
Sovereign, and solicited the Catholic Powers to invade their country and
put the Reformers down with fire and sword. The King, who had been the
instrument of their beneficent humiliation, did not intend either to
submit the internal interests of the country to the authority of a foreign
bishop, or to allow the black regiments at home to recover the power which
they had so long abused.

Cromwell's commissioners were still busy on the visitation of the
religious houses. Each day brought in fresh reports of their condition.
These communities, supposed to be special servants of God, had become
special servants of the Devil. The eagerness with which the Pope solicited
Henry's return, the assurance that he had always been his friend--had
always maintained that Henry was right in the divorce case, when he had a
Bull ready in his desk taking his crown from him--was in itself sufficient
evidence of the fitness of such a ruler to be the Supreme Judge in
Christendom. Just as little could the Emperor be trusted, whose
affectations of friendship were qualified by secret reservations. The King
had undertaken a great and beneficent work in his own realm and meant to
go through with it. The Pope might do as he pleased. The Continental
Princes might quarrel or make peace, hold their Councils, settle as they
liked their own affairs, in their own way; England was sufficient for
herself. He had called his people under arms; he had fortified the coasts;
he had regenerated the navy. The nation, or the nobler part of it, he
believed to be loyal to himself--to approve what he had done and to be
ready to stand by him. He was not afraid of attack from abroad. If there
was a rebellious spirit at home, if the clergy were mutinous because the
bit was in their mouths, if the Peers of the old blood were alarmed at the
growth of religious liberty and were discontented because they could no
longer deal with it in the old way, the King was convinced that he was
acting for the true interests of the country, that Parliament would uphold
him, and that he could control both the ecclesiastics and the nobles. The
world should see that the reforms which he had introduced into England
were not the paltry accidents of a domestic scandal, but the first steps
of a revolution deliberately resolved on and sternly carried out which was
to free the island for ever from the usurped authority of an Italian
Prelate, and from the poisonous influences within the realm of a corrupt
and demoralising superstition.

The call of Parliament after Anne's execution was the strongest evidence
of confidence in his people which Henry had yet given. He had much to
acknowledge and much to ask. He had to confess that, although he had been
right in demanding a separation from his brother's wife, he had fatally
mistaken the character of the woman whom he had chosen to take her place.
The succession which he had hoped to establish he had made more intricate
than before. He had now three children, all technically illegitimate. The
Duke of Richmond was the son of the only mistress with whom he was ever
known to have been really connected. The Duke was now eighteen years old.
He had been educated as a Prince, but had no position recognised by the
law. Elizabeth's mother had acknowledged to having committed herself
before her marriage with the King, and many persons doubted whether
Elizabeth was the King's true daughter. Mary's claim was justly considered
as the best, for, though her mother's marriage had been declared illegal,
she had been born _bonâ fide parentum_. What Parliament would do in such
extraordinary circumstances could not be foreseen with any certainty, and
the elections had to be made with precipitancy and without time for
preparation. The writs were issued on the 7th of May. The meeting was to
be on the 8th of June. The Crown could influence or control the elections
at some particular places. At Canterbury Cromwell named the
representatives who were to be chosen,[442] as, till the Reform Bill of
1832, they continued to be named by the patrons of boroughs. Yet it would
be absurd to argue from single instances that the Crown could do what it
pleased. Even with leisure to take precautions and with the utmost
exercise of its powers, it could only affect the returns, in the great
majority of the constituencies, through the Peers and landowners, and the
leading citizens in the corporations. With only four weeks to act in, a
Queen to try and execute, and a King to marry in the interval, no
ingenuity and no industry could have sufficed to secure a House of Commons
whose subserviency could be counted on, if subserviency was what the King
required. It is clear only that, so far as concerned the general opinion
of the country, the condemnation of Anne Boleyn had rather strengthened
than impaired his popularity. As Queen she had been feared and disliked.
Her punishment was regarded as a creditable act of justice, and the King
was compassionated as a sufferer from abominable ingratitude.

Little is known in detail of the proceedings of this Parliament. The Acts
remain: the debates are lost. The principal difficulties with which it had
to deal concerned Anne's trial and the disposition of the inheritance of
the Crown. On the matter of real importance, on the resolution of King and
Legislature to go forward with the Reformation, all doubts were promptly
dispelled. An Act was passed without opposition reasserting the extinction
of the Pope's authority, and another taking away the protection of
sanctuary from felonious priests. The succession was a harder problem. Day
after day it had been debated in the Council. Lord Sussex had proposed
that, as all the children of the King were illegitimate, the male should
be preferred to the female and the crown be settled on the Duke of
Richmond.[443] Richmond was personally liked. He resembled his father in
appearance and character, and the King himself was supposed to favour this
solution. With the outer world the favourite was the Princess Mary. Both
she and her mother were respected for a misfortune which was not due to
faults of theirs, and the Princess was the more endeared by the danger to
which she was believed to have been exposed through the machinations of
Anne. The new Queen was her strongest advocate, and the King's affection
for her had not been diminished even when she had tried him the most. He
could not have been ignorant of her correspondence with Chapuys: he
probably knew that she had wished to escape out of the realm, and that the
Pope, who was now suing to him, had meant to bestow his own crown upon
her. But her qualities were like his own, tough and unmalleable, and in
the midst of his anger he had admired her resolution. Every one expected
that she would be restored to her rank after Anne's death. The King had
apparently been satisfied with her letter to him. Cromwell was her friend,
and Chapuys, who had qualified her submission, was triumphant and
confident. He was led to expect that an Act would be introduced declaring
her the next heir--nay, he had thought that such an Act had been passed.
Unfortunately for him the question of her acknowledgment of the Act of
Supremacy was necessarily revived. Had she or had she not accepted it? The
Act had been imposed, with the Statute of Treasons attached, as a test of
loyalty to the Reformation. It was impossible to place her nearest to the
throne as long as she refused obedience to a law essential to the
national independence. To refuse was to confess of a purpose of undoing
her father's work, should he die and the crown descend to her. She had
supposed that "she was out of her trouble" while she had saved her
conscience by the reservation in her submission. Chapuys found her again
"in extreme perplexity and anger." The reservation had been observed. The
Duke of Norfolk, Lord Sussex, a Bishop, and other Privy Councillors, had
come with a message to her, like those which had been so often carried
ineffectually to her mother, to represent the necessity of obedience.
Chapuys said that she had confounded them with her wise answers, and that,
when they could not meet her arguments, they "told her that, if she was
their daughter, they would knock her head against the wall till it was as
soft as a baked apple." In passing through Mary and through Chapuys the
words, perhaps, received some metaphorical additions. It is likely enough,
however, that Norfolk, who was supporting her claims with all his power,
was irritated at the revival of the old difficulties which he had hoped
were removed. The Princess "in her extreme necessity" wrote for advice to
the Ambassador. The Emperor was no longer in a condition to threaten, and
to secure Mary's place as next in the succession was of too vital
importance to the Imperialists to permit them to encourage her in scruples
of conscience. Chapuys answered frankly that, if the King persisted, she
must do what he required. The Emperor had distinctly said so. Her life was
precious, she must hide her real feelings till a time came for the redress
of the disorders of the realm. Nothing was demanded of her expressly
against God or the Articles of Faith, and God looked to intentions rather
than acts.

Mary still hesitated. She had the Tudor obstinacy, and she tried her will
against her father's. The King was extremely angry. He had believed that
she had given way and that the troubles which had distracted his family
were at last over. He had been exceptionally well-disposed towards her. He
had probably decided to be governed by the wishes of the people and to
appoint her by statute presumptive heir, and she seemed determined to make
it impossible for him. He suspected that she was being secretly
encouraged. To defend her conduct, as Cromwell ventured to do, provoked
him the more, for he felt, truly, that to give way was to abandon the
field. Lady Hussey was sent to the Tower; Lord Exeter and Sir William
Fitzwilliam were suspended from attendance on the Council; and even
Cromwell, for four or five days, counted himself a lost man. Jane Seymour
interceded in vain. To refuse to acknowledge the supremacy was treason,
and had been made treason for ample reason. Mary, as the first subject in
the realm, could not be allowed to deny it. Henry sent for the Judges, to
consider what was to be done, and the Court was once more in terror. The
Judges advised that a strict form of submission should be drawn, and that
the Princess should be required to sign it. If she persisted in her
refusal, she would then be liable to the law. The difficulty was overcome,
or evaded, in a manner characteristic of the system to which Mary so
passionately adhered. Chapuys drew a secret protest that, in submitting,
she was yielding only to force. Thus guarded, he assured her that her
consent would not be binding, that the Pope would not only refrain from
blaming her, but would highly approve. She was still unsatisfied, till she
made him promise to write to the Imperial Ambassador at Rome to procure a
secret absolution from the Pope for the full satisfaction of her
conscience. Thus protected, she disdainfully set her name to the paper
prepared by the Judges, without condescending to read it, and the marked
contempt, in Chapuys's opinion, would serve as an excuse for her in the
future.[444]

While the crisis lasted the Council were in permanent session. Timid Peers
were alarmed at the King's peremptoriness, and said that it might cost him
his throne. The secret process by which Mary had been brought to yield may
have been conjectured, and her resistance was not forgotten, but she had
signed what was demanded, and it was enough. In the Court there was
universal delight. Chapuys congratulated Cromwell, and Cromwell led him to
believe that the crown would be settled as he wished. The King and Queen
drove down to Richmond to pay the Princess a visit. Henry gave her a
handsome present of money and said that now she might have anything that
she pleased. The Queen gave her a diamond. She was to return to the court
and resume her old station. One cloud only remained. If it was generally
understood that the heir presumptive in her heart detested the measures in
which she had formally acquiesced, the country could no longer be expected
to support a policy which would be reversed on the King's death. Mary's
conduct left little doubt of her real feelings, and therefore it was not
held to be safe to give her by statute the position which her friends
desired for her. The facility with which the Pope could dispense with
inconvenient obligations rendered a verbal acquiescence an imperfect
safeguard. Parliament, therefore, did not, after all, entail the crown
upon her, in the event of the King's present marriage being unfruitful,
but left her to deserve it and empowered the King to name his own
successor.

Chapuys, however, was able to console himself with the reflection that the
Bastard, as he called Elizabeth, was now out of the question. The Duke of
Richmond was ill--sinking under the same weakness of constitution which
had been so fatal in the Tudor family and of which he, in fact, died a few
weeks later. The prevailing opinion was that the King could never have
another child. Mary's prospects, therefore, were tolerably "secure. I must
admit," Chapuys wrote on the 8th of July, "that her treatment improves
every day. She never had so much liberty as now, or was served with so
much state even by the little Bastard's waiting-women. She will want
nothing in future but the name of Princess of Wales,[445] and that is of
no consequence, for all the rest she will have more abundantly than
before."

Mary, in fact, now wanted nothing save the Pope's pardon for having
abjured his authority. Chapuys had undertaken that it would be easily
granted. The Emperor had himself asked for it, yet not only could not
Cifuentes obtain the absolution, but he did not so much as dare to speak
to Paul on the subject. The absolution for the murder of an Archbishop of
Dublin had been bestowed cheerfully and instantly on Fitzgerald. Mary was
left with perjury on her conscience, and no relief could be had. There
appeared to be some technical difficulty. "Unless she retracted and
abjured in the presence of the persons before whom she took the oath, it
was said that the Pope's absolution would be of no use to her." There was,
perhaps, another objection. Cifuentes imperfectly trusted Paul. He feared
that if he pressed the request the secret would be betrayed and that
Mary's life would be in danger.[446]

Time, perhaps, and reflection alleviated Mary's remorse and enabled her to
dispense with the Papal anodyne, while Cromwell further comforted the
Ambassador in August by telling him that the King felt he was growing old,
that he was hopeless of further offspring, and was thinking seriously of
making Mary his heir after all.[447]

Age the King could not contend with, but for the rest he had carried his
policy through. The first act of the Reformation was closing, and he was
left in command of the situation. The curtain was to rise again with the
Lincolnshire and Yorkshire rebellion, to be followed by the treason of the
Poles. But there is no occasion to tell a story over again which I can
tell no better than I have done already, nor does it belong to the subject
of the present volume. The Pilgrimage of Grace was the outbreak of the
conspiracy encouraged by Chapuys to punish Henry, and to stop the progress
of the Reformation; Chapuys's successors in the time of Elizabeth followed
his example; and with them all the result was the same--the ruin of the
cause which with such weapons they were trying to maintain, and the deaths
on the scaffold of the victims of visionary hopes and promises which were
never to be made good.

All the great persons whom Chapuys names as willing to engage in the
enterprise--the Peers, the Knights, who, with the least help from the
Emperor, would hurl the King from his throne, Lord Darcy and Lord Hussey,
the Bishop of Rochester, as later on, the Marquis of Exeter, Lord
Montague, and his mother--sank one after another into bloody graves. They
mistook their imaginations for facts, their passions for arguments, and
the vain talk of an unscrupulous Ambassador for solid ground on which to
venture into treason. In their dreams they saw the phantom of the Emperor
coming over with an army to help them. Excited as they had been, they
could not part with their hopes. They knew that they were powerful in
numbers. Their preparations had been made, and many thousands of clergy
and gentlemen and yeomen had been kindled into crusading enthusiasm. The
flame burst out sporadically and at intervals, without certain plan or
purpose, at a time when the Emperor could not help them, even if he had
ever seriously intended it, and thus the conflagration, which at first
blazed through all the northern counties, was extinguished before it
turned to civil war. The common people who had been concerned in it
suffered but lightly. But the roots had penetrated deep; the conspiracy
was of long standing; the intention of the leaders was to carry out the
Papal censures, and put down what was called heresy. The rising was really
formidable, for the loyalty of many of the great nobles was not above
suspicion, and, if not promptly dealt with, it might have enveloped the
whole island. Those who rise in arms against Governments must take the
consequences of failure, and the leaders who had been the active spirits
in the sedition were inexorably punished. In my History of the time I have
understated the number of those who were executed. Care was taken to
select only those who had been definitely prominent. Nearly three hundred
were hanged in all--in batches of twenty-five or thirty, in each of the
great northern cities; and, to emphasize the example and to show that the
sacerdotal habit would no longer protect treason, the orders were to
select particularly the priests and friars who had been engaged. The
rising was undertaken in the name of religion. The clergy had been the
most eager of the instigators. Chapuys had told the Emperor that of all
Henry's subjects the clergy were the most disaffected, and the most
willing to supply money for an invasion. They were therefore legitimately
picked out for retribution, and in Lincoln, York, Hull, Doncaster,
Newcastle, and Carlisle, the didactic spectacle was witnessed of some
scores of reverend persons swinging for the crows to eat in the sacred
dress of their order. A severe lesson was required to teach a
superstitious world that the clerical immunities existed no longer and
that priests who broke the law would suffer like common mortals; but it
must be clearly understood that, if these men could have had their way,
the hundreds who suffered would have been thousands, and the victims would
have been the poor men who were looking for a purer faith in the pages of
the New Testament.

When we consider the rivers of blood which were shed elsewhere before the
Protestant cause could establish itself, the real wonder is the small cost
in human life of the mighty revolution successfully accomplished by Henry.
With him, indeed, Chapuys must share the honour. The Catholics, if they
had pleased, might have pressed their objections and their remonstrances
in Parliament; and a nation as disposed for compromise as the English
might have mutilated the inevitable changes. Chapuys's counsels tempted
them into more dangerous and less pardonable roads. By encouraging them in
secret conspiracies he made them a menace to the peace of the realm. He
brought Fisher to the block. He forced the Government to pass the Act of
Supremacy as a defence against treason, and was thus the cause also of the
execution of Sir Thomas More and the Charterhouse Monks.

To Chapuys, perhaps, and to his faithful imitators later in the
century--De Quadra and Mendoza--the country owes the completeness of the
success of the Reformation. It was a battle fought out gallantly between
two principles--a crisis in the eternal struggle between the old and the
new. The Catholics may boast legitimately of their martyrs. But the
Protestants have a martyrology longer far and no less honourable, and
those who continue to believe that the victory won in England in the
sixteenth century was a victory of right over wrong, have no need to blush
for the actions of the brave men who, in the pulpit or in the Council
Chamber, on the scaffold or at the stake, won for mankind the spiritual
liberty which is now the law of the world.




Footnotes:

[1] _Calendar of State Papers, Hen. VIII., Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv.
Introduction, p. 223.

[2] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic, Hen. VIII._, vol. iv. p. 1112.--Hen.
VIII. to Clement VII., Oct. 23, 1526.--_Ib._ p. 1145. Giberto to Gambara,
Dec. 20, 1526.--_Ib._ p. 1207.

[3] Giberto, Bishop of Verona, to Wolsey, Feb. 10, 1527.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv. pp. 1282-3.

[4] Giberto, Bishop of Verona, to Wolsey, Feb. 10, 1527.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, April 26, 1527, vol. iv. p. 1386.

[5] Inigo de Mendoza to the Emperor, Jan. 19, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. iii. pt. 2, p. 24.

[6] Alonzo Sanchez to Charles V., May 7, 1527.--_Ib._ p. 176.

[7] Mendoza to Charles V., March 18, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iii.
part 2, p. 110.

[8] Report from England, Nov. 10, 1531.--_Venetian Calendar._ Falieri
arrived in England in 1528, and the general parts of the Report cover the
intervening period.

[9] Inigo de Mendoza to Charles V., May 18, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. iii. part 2, p. 193.

[10] Lope de Soria to Charles V., May 25, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iii. part 2, p. 209.

[11] Mendoza to Charles V., July 13, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. ii.
part 2, p. 276.

[12] _Ib._ vol. iii. part 2, p. 273.

[13] Andrea Navagero to the Signory, July 17, 1527.--_Venetian Calendar._

[14] Mendoza to Charles V., July 17, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar._

[15] Wolsey to Henry VIII., July 5.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. part 2. Bishop Fisher to Paul, _ibid._, p. 1471.

[16] Charles V. to Inigo de Mendoza, July 29.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 1500.

[17] _Ibid._

[18] Charles V. to Mendoza, Sept. 30, 1527.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 1569.

[19] The Emperor to the Cardinal of York, Aug. 31, 1527.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iii. part 2, p. 357.

[20] Wolsey to Henry VIII., Aug. --, 1527.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2.

[21] The Cardinals of France to Clement VII., Sept. 16, 1527.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iii. part 2, p. 383.

[22] Mendoza to Charles V., Aug. 16, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iii.
part 2, p. 327.

[23] The date of Henry's resolution to marry Anne is of some consequence,
since the general assumption is that it was the origin of the divorce.
Rumour, of course, said so afterwards, but there is no evidence for it.
The early love-letters written by the King to her are assigned by Mr.
Brewer to the midsummer of 1527. But they are undated, and therefore the
period assigned to them is conjecture merely.

[24] Mendoza to Charles V., Oct. 26, 1527.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iii.
part 2, p. 432.

[25] _Ibid._

[26] Knight to Henry VIII., Dec. 4.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. part 2, pp. 1633-4.

[27] I follow Mr. Brewer's translation.

[28] 1. When he says, "It is thought," let him be examined whom he ever
heard say any such thing of the King. 2. Where, when, and why he spoke
those words to Sir Wm. Essex and Sir Wm. Barentyne. 3. Whether he
communicated the matter to any other. 5, 6. Whether he thought the words
true and why. 7, 8. Whether he did not think the words very slanderous to
any man's good name. 10, 15. Whether he thinks such reports conducive to
the peace of the Commonwealth, or fitting for a true subject to
spread.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, 1537, p. 333.

[29] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 1672.

[30] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 1672.

[31] Casalis to Wolsey, January 13, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 1694.

[32] Three foreigners held English sees, not one of which either of them
had probably ever visited. Campeggio was Bishop of Salisbury; Ghinucci,
the auditor of the Rota, was Bishop of Worcester; and Catherine's Spanish
confessor, who had come with her to England, was Bishop of Llandaff.

[33] Wolsey to Gardiner and Fox, February --, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 1740.

[34] Embassy to the German Princes, January 5, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. vii. p. 10.

[35] Casalis to Peter Vannes, April, 1538.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 1842.

[36] Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn, June or July, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 1960.

[37] Eleanor Carey was the sister of Mary Boleyn's husband.

[38] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv., Introduction, pp. 388-9.

[39] The Emperor to Mendoza, July 5, 1528.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iii.
part 2, p. 728.

[40] Mendoza to the Emperor, September 18, 1528.--_Ibid._ vol. iii. part
2, p. 788.

[41] Charles V. to Queen Catherine, September 1, 1528.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iii. part 2, p. 779.

[42] Campeggio to Salviati and to Sanga, October 17, 1528.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, pp. 2099-2102.

[43] Campeggio to Salviati, October 26, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 2108.

[44] Campeggio to Sanga, Oct. 28.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol.
vi. part 2, p. 2113.

[45] Sanga to Campeggio, Dec. --, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. vi. part 2, p. 2210.

[46] Wolsey to Casalis, Nov. 1, 1528.--_Ib._ vol. iv. part 2, p. 2120.

[47] Catherine to Charles V., Nov. 24, 1528.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iii. part 2, p. 855.

[48] Mendoza to Charles V., Dec. 2, 1528.--_Ib._ p. 862. Jan. 16,
1529.--_ib._ p. 878.

[49] Sylvester Darius to Wolsey, Nov. 25, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. pt. 2, p. 2126.

[50] Du Bellay to Montmorency, Dec. 9, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. pt. 2, p. 2177.

[51] John Casalis to Wolsey, Dec. 17, 1528.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 2186.

[52] Mendoza to Charles V., Feb. 4, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iii.
part 2.

[53] Knight and Benet to Wolsey, Jan. 8, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. part 3, p. 2262.

[54] Mai to Charles V., April 3, 1529,--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iii. part
2, p. 973.

[55] Micer Mai to the Emperor, May 11, 1529.--_Ibid._ vol. iv. part 1, p.
20.

[56] In Spanish the words are even more emphatically contemptuous: "Y que
ennoramala que se curasen de sus bulas y de sus bellaquerias, si las
querian dar ó no dar, y que no pongan lengua en los reyes y querir ser
jueces de la subjeccion de los reynos."

[57] Micer Mai to the Emperor, June 5, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 60.

[58] Campeggio to Sanga, April 3, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. p. 2379.

[59] Gardiner to Henry VIII., April 21.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. p. 2415.

[60] Bryan to Henry VIII.--_Ibid._ p. 2418.

[61] Wolsey to Gardiner, May 5, 1529.--_Ibid._ p. 2442.

[62] Campeggio to Salviati, May 12, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, p. 2451.

[63] Du Bellay to Montmorency, May 22, 1529.--_Ibid._ vol. iv. p. 2469.

[64] _Ibid._ May 28, 1529, p. 2476-7.

[65] The Duke of Suffolk to Henry VIII., June 4, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2491.

[66] Sanga to Campeggio, May 29, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. p. 2479.

[67] Casalis to Wolsey, June 13, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
pp. 2507-8.

[68] Mendoza to Charles V., June 17, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 96.

[69] Campeggio to Salviati, June 16, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2509.

[70] Wolsey to Casalis, June 22, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. p. 2526.

[71] "La mas necia y bellaca carta que se pudiera hacer en el Infierno."

[72] Mai to Charles V., August 4, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part
1, page 155 (abridged).

[73] Same to the same, August 28.--_Ibid._ p. 182.

[74] Benet, Casalis, and Vannes to Henry VIII.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. pp. 2567-8.

[75] Campeggio to Salviati, June 29, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2538.

[76] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2581.

[77] Mai to Charles V., Sept. 3, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part
1, p. 195.

[78] This was not an idle boast. A united army of French and English might
easily have marched across the Alps; and nothing would have pleased
Francis better than to have led such an army, with his brother of England
at his side, to drive out the Emperor.

[79] Wolsey to Benet, etc., July 27.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. p. 2591.

[80] Paget to Petre.--_State Papers, Henry VIII._, vol. x. p. 466.

[81] Chapuys to the Regent Margaret, Sept. 18, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. iv. part 1, p. 214.

[82] Chapuys to Charles V., Sept. 2.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. part 2,
p. 225.

[83] _Ibid._ p. 229.

[84] Chapuys to Charles V., Sept. 2, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. vi.
part 1, pp. 236-7.

[85] _Ibid._ p. 236.

[86] _Ibid._ p. 274.

[87] Chapuys to Charles V., Sept. 2, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. vi.
part 1, p. 294.

[88] The transcripts of these documents were furnished to me by the late
Sir Francis Palgrave, who was then Keeper of the Records.

[89] Cardinal Wolsey and Lord Darcy, July 1, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. pp. 2548-62.

[90] Du Bellay to Montmorency, Oct. 17, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. pt. 3, p. 2675.

[91] Chapuys to the Emperor, Oct. 25, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
pt. 1, p. 304.

[92] Hen. VIII. to Campeggio, Oct. 22, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2677.

[93] To Salviati, Nov. 5.--_Ibid._ p. 2702.

[94] Hen. VIII. to Clement VII.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol.
iv. p. 2660.

[95] Casalis to Henry VIII., Dec. 26, 1529.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2722.

[96] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 6, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 344.

[97] _Ibid._

[98] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 6, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 351.

[99] Charles V. to Ferdinand, Jan. 11, 1530.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2742.

[100] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 9, 1529--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 359.

[101] _Ibid._ p. 361.

[102] _Ibid._ p. 366.

[103] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 9, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 367.

[104] _Ibid._ p. 368.

[105] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 9, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 369.

[106] Wolsey to Gardiner, Jan. 1530.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. iv. p. 2763.

[107] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 6, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
pp. 449-50.

[108] Chapuys to Charles V. Jan. 31, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
p. 387.

[109] Charles V. to Ferdinand, Jan. 11, 1530.--_Ibid._ vol. iv. part 1,
pp. 405-6.

[110] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 6, 1530.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol, iv. p. 2780.

[111] Bishop of Tarbes to Francis I., from Bologna, March 27,
1530.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 2826.

[112] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 31, 1529.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 394.

[113] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 12, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 417.

[114] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 20, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 436.

[115] _Ibid._ April 23, 1530, p. 511.

[116] Chapuys to Charles V., April 23, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 533.

[117] _Ibid._ p. 600.

[118] "J'ay reçeu lettres du medicin du Cardinal, par lesquelles il
m'advertit que son maystre pour non sçavoir en quelles termes sont les
affaires de la Reyne, il ne scauroit particulierement quel conseil donner
et que estant informe, il y vouldroit donner conseil et addresse comme ce
estoit pour gagner paradis. Car de la depend son bien, honneur et repoz,
et qu'il lui semble pour maintenant que l'on debvroyt proceder a plus
grandes censures et a la _invocation du bras seculier_. Car maintenant il
n'y a nul nerf."

[119] T. Arundel to Wolsey, Oct. 16, 1530.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 3013.

[120] Chapuys to Charles V., Nov. 27, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 3035.

[121] Anne Boleyn.

[122] Chapuys to Charles V., July 11, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 630.

[123] Mai to Charles V., Oct. 2 and Oct. 10, 1530.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. pp. 3002, 3009.

[124] Answer of the Pope, Sept. 27, 1530.--_Ibid._ p. 2291.

[125] Chapuys to Charles V., Sept. 4, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 707.

[126] Chapuys to Charles, Sept. 20, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 726.

[127] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 1, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 734.

[128] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 1, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 734.

[129] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 15, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 759.

[130] Henry VIII. to Clement VII., Dec. 6, 1530.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. iv. p. 3055.

[131] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 21, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 853.

[132] _Ibid._

[133] Catherine to the Pope, Dec. 17, 1530.--_Ibid._ p. 855.

[134] Catherine to the Pope, December 17, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iv. part 1, p. 855.

[135] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 1, 1531.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 10.

[136] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 12.

[137] Chapuys to Charles, Dec. 21, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 854.

[138] Chapuys to Charles V., January 13, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iv. part 2, p. 22.

[139] Chapuys to Charles V., January 13, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iv. part 2, p. 23.

[140] _Ibid._ p. 26.

[141] Muxetula to Charles V., Jan. 12, 1531.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 18.

[142] Mai to Covos, Feb. 13, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2,
p. 59.

[143] Chapuys to the Emperor, Jan. 23, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 39.

[144] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 14, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 63.

[145] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 21, 1530.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 69; and _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 49. There
are a few verbal differences between the two versions.

[146] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 21, 1530.--_Ibid._

[147] Chapuys to Charles V., March 22, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 94. _Ibid._--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 68.

[148] Micer Mai to Covos, March 28, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 105. Ortiz to the Archbishop of Santiago, April 11,
1531.--_Ibid._ p. 116.

[149] Queen Catherine to the Emperor, April 5, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. iv. part 1, p. 112.

[150] Micer Mai to Charles V., April 21, 1531.--_Ibid._ p. 130.

[151] Chapuys to Charles V., April 2, 1531.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 83.

[152] Micer Mai to Charles V., May 25, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 165.

[153] Chapuys to Charles V., June 6, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 170.

[154] Chapuys to Charles V., June 6, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 172.

[155] Answer to the Papal Legate respecting the Cause of England, July,
1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 203.

[156] Chapuys to Charles V., June 24, 1531.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. pp. 144-5.

[157] The Emperor's Answer to the Legate, July 26, 1531.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 218.

[158] Catherine's phrase for the excommunication of her husband.

[159] Queen Catherine to Charles V., July 28.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iv. part 2, p. 220.

[160] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 239.

[161] Chapuys to Charles V., January 4, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 335.

[162] Chapuys to Charles V., October 1, 1531---_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
part 2, p. 256.

[163] Mai to Covos, Oct. 24, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2,
p. 276.

[164] _Ibid._

[165] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 16, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 263.

[166] Catherine to Charles V., Nov. 6, 1531.--_Ib._ p. 279. I must remind
the reader that I have to compress the substance both of this and many
other letters.

[167] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 4, 1531.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 320.

[168] Mai to Charles V., Dec. 12.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 1, p.
328.

[169] Catherine to Charles V., Dec. 15, 1531.--_Ib._ p. 331.

[170] Mai to the Emperor, Jan. 15, 1532--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part
1, p. 360.

[171] Clement VII. to Henry VIII., Jan. 25, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 358.

[172] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 1, p. 368.

[173] Henry VIII. to the Bishop of Durham, Feb. 24, 1532.
Compressed.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 387.

[174] Archbishop Warham, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v.
p. 541.

[175] _History of England_, vol. i. p. 322, etc.

[176] Carlo Capello to the Signory, July 10, 1532.--_Venetian Calendar_,
vol. iv. p. 342.

[177] Chapuys to Charles V., May 13, 1532.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 446.

[178] "Le Roy et son Conseil sçavoient bien qu'il y en avoient à faire
sans vouloir mestre le chat entre les jambes dautres." Chapuys to the
Emperor, Feb. 14, 1532.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 1, p. 384;
_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 381.

[179] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 28, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 392.

[180] An address purporting to have been presented by Convocation on this
occasion, not only complaining of the annates, but inviting a complete
separation from the See of Rome, was perhaps no more than a draft
submitted to the already sorely humiliated body, and not accepted by
it.--_History of England_, vol. i. p. 332-3. The French Ambassador says
distinctly that the clergy agreed to nothing, but their refusal was
treated as of no consequence.

[181] Chapuys to Charles V., May 22, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 476.

[182] Maître d'hôtel to the Emperor, and Governor of Brescia.

[183] Montfalconet to Charles V., May, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 479.

[184] Chapuys to the Emperor, April 16, 1532.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iv. part 1, p. 425. In 1499 Louis XII. repudiated his first wife, Jeanne
de France, and married Anne of Brittany, widow of Charles VIII.

[185] _Spanish Calendar_, vol iv. part 1, p. 447.

[186] Ortiz to Charles V., May, 1532.--_Ibid._ p. 438.

[187] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 539.

[188] Ortiz to Charles V., July 28, 1532.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 486.

[189] Ortiz to Charles V., July 28, 1532.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 414.

[190] Ortiz to Charles V., July 28, 1532.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 469.

[191] Charles V. to Mary of Hungary, Nov. 7, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 642.

[192] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 1, 1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. v. p. 592.

[193] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 1, p. 512.

[194] Ortiz to the Emperor, Sept. 30, 1532.--_Ib._ p. 533.

[195] Instructions to Cardinal Grammont and Tournon, Nov. 13,
1532.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 648.

[196] Chapuys to Charles V., Nov. 10.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. v. p. 644.

[197] _Ibid._ p. 667.

[198] To the Emperor, Nov. 11.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 1, p.
554.

[199] Queen Catherine to Chapuys, Nov. 22, 1532.--_Compressed Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iv. part 1, p. 291. The editor dates this letter Nov.
1531. He has mistaken the year. No report had gone abroad that the King
was married to Anne before his return from France.

[200] Clement VII. to Henry VIII., Nov. 15, 1532; second date, Dec.
23.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. v. p. 650.

[201] Ortiz to the Empress, Jan. 19, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, pp. 579-80.

[202] Carlo Capello to the Signory, March 15, 1533.--_Venetian Calendar_,
vol. iv. p. 389.

[203] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 9, 1533, vol. vi. p. 62. The same letter
will be found in the _Spanish Calendar_, with some differences in the
translation. The original French is in parts obscure.

[204] Chapuys to the Emperor, Feb. 23, 1533. _Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 1, p. 609.

[205] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 65.

[206] Ghinucci and Lee to Henry VIII., March 11, 1533.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 100.

[207] More to Erasmus.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 144.

[208] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 15.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. vi. p. 73. _Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 600.

[209] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 9, 1533. Compressed.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, pp. 592-600.

[210] Chapuys here mentions this very curious fact: "The Earl of
Wiltshire," he wrote on Feb. 15, "has never declared himself up to this
moment. On the contrary, he has hitherto, as the Duke of Norfolk has
frequently told me, tried to dissuade the King rather than otherwise from
the marriage."--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 602.

[211] Henry VIII. to Francis I., March 11, 1533.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 103.

[212] Chapuys to Charles V., March 11, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 619.

[213] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, April 21, 1533, vol. iv. p. 171.

[214] Chapuys to Charles V., March 31.--_Ibid._ vol. vi. p. 128.

[215] Chapuys to Charles V., March 31.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. vi. p. 128.

[216] Dr. Ortiz to Charles V., April 14, 1533.--_Ibid._ pp. 159-60.

[217] Chapuys to Charles V., March 31, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 626.

[218] Chapuys to Charles V., April 10, 1533. Compressed.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. pp. 149-51. _Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 630.

[219] Chapuys to Charles V., April 16, 1533.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 163, etc., abridged. Also _Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iv. part 2, p. 635.

[220] I have related elsewhere the story of the Dunstable trial, and do
not repeat it.--_History of England_, vol. i, pp. 417-423.

[221] Chapuys to Charles V., April 27, 1533. Abridged.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iv, part 2, p. 648.

[222] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, pp. 650-658.

[223] The Count de Cifuentes to Charles V., May 7, 1533.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. pp. 203-4.

[224] _Ibid._, May 10.

[225] Ortiz to Charles V., May 3, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part
2, p. 659.

[226] Chapuys to Charles V., May 18, 1533.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vi. pp. 225-6.

[227] Chapuys to Henry VIII., May 5, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 668.

[228] Cranmer had sworn the usual oath, but with a reservation that his
first duty was to his Sovereign and the laws of his country.

[229] Chapuys to Charles V., May 26, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 687.

[230] Chapuys to Charles V., May 29, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 699.

[231] Cifuentes to Charles V., May 29, 1533.--_Ibid._ p. 702.

[232] The Cardinal of Jaen to Charles V., June 16, 1533.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 709.

[233] Davalos to Charles V., June 30 and July 5, 1533.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, pp. 725-728.

[234] _Ibid._

[235] Davalos to Charles V., June 30 and July 5, 1533.--_Spanish
Calendar_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 749.

[236] _Ibid._ p. 734.

[237] Chapuys to Charles V., June 28, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, pp. 718-20.

[238] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 399.

[239] Chapuys to Charles V., Aug. 3, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, pp. 759-60.

[240] Chapuys to Granvelle, Nov. 21, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. 9, p. 289.

[241] Chapuys to Charles V., Aug. 23, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 777.

[242] Chapuys to Charles V., Sept. 10, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 789.

[243] _Ibid._ p. 788.

[244] Chapuys to Charles V., Nov. 3, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 842.

[245] The King's infirmities were not a secret. In 1533, upon Elizabeth's
birth, a Señor de Gambaro, who was an intimate friend of the Duke of
Norfolk, wrote at Rome for Cifuentes a curious account of the situation
and prospects of things in England. Among other observations he says: "The
[expected] child will be weak, owing to his father's condition." Avisos de
las Cosas de Inglaterra dados por Sr. de Gambaro en Roma.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 683.

[246] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 486. _Spanish
Calendar_, vol. vi. part 2, p. 813.

[247] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 486. _Spanish
Calendar_, vol. vi. part 2, p. 813.

[248] News from Flanders.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vi. p.
493.

[249] _I. e._ the calling in the secular arm, which had not been actually
done in the Brief _de Attentatis_.

[250] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 10, 1533.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 511.

[251] _Ibid._

[252] Cifuentes to Charles V., Oct. 23, 1533.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 534.

[253] _Ibid._

[254] The Papal Nuncio to Charles V., Oct. 22.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
iv. part 2, p. 830.

[255] Chapuys to Charles V., Nov. 3, 1533.--_Ibid._ pp. 839-41.

[256] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 6, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 871.

[257] Chapuys to Charles V., Nov. 20, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 859. Catherine to Charles V., Nov. 21.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 578.

[258] Chapuys to Charles V., Nov. 24, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 864.

[259] Gardiner to Henry VIII., Nov. 1533.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vi. p. 571.

[260] Chapuys to Charles, Dec. 9, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv. part
2, p. 875.

[261] Chapuys to Charles, Jan. 17, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vii. p. 31.

[262] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 11, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 31.

[263] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 17, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vii. pp. 31-33.

[264] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 16, 1533.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. iv.
part 2, p. 883.

[265] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 32.

[266] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 3, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
1.

[267] Cifuentes to Charles V., Jan. 23, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 17.

[268] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 28, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 24.

[269] Cifuentes to Charles V., March 24.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
84.

[270] Ortiz to Charles V., March 24, 1534.--_Ibid._ vol. v. p. 89.

[271] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 21, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 53-54.

[272] _Haine novercule._

[273] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 26, 1534. Abridged.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. v. p. 59, etc.

[274] Chapuys to Charles V., March 7, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 73.

[275] Chapuys to Charles V., March 30.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 96.

[276] Chapuys to Charles V., 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 96.

[277] Chapuys to Charles V., April 22, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 126, 127.

[278] _Ibid._ May 14, p. 151.

[279] Chapuys to Charles V., April 14, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 125-31.

[280] _Ibid._ May 21, 1534, p. 167.

[281] Chapuys to Charles V., May 14, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 153, 154.

[282] Chapuys to Charles V., May 14, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 153, 154.

[283] Chapuys to Charles V., May 19, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 155-66.

[284] Lee and Tunstall to Henry VIII., May 21, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. vii. p. 270.

[285] Chapuys to Charles V., May 29, 1534,--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
169.

[286] Thus much was certainly meant by the King's words: "He could not
allow any of his native subjects to refuse to take the oath."--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. vii. p. 272.

[287] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 172.

[288] Cifuentes to Charles V., June 6, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 174 et seq.

[289] Chapuys to Charles V., June 23, 1534. Abridged.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. v. pp. 198-99.

[290] Chapuys to Charles V., July 27, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 219-20.

[291] Chapuys to Charles V., July 27, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vii. p. 389.

[292] Cifuentes to Charles V., Aug. 1, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 229.

[293] Chapuys to Charles V., Aug. 11, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 243-4.

[294] Chapuys to Charles V., Aug. 29, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, p. 250.

[295] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 24, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 294 et seq.

[296] Chapuys to Charles V., Sept. 30, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vii. p. 466; _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 608.

[297] Chapuys to Charles V., Oct. 13, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 279.

[298] Chapuys to Charles V., Nov. 3, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. vii. p. 519.

[299] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 19, 1534.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 343.

[300] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 14, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 14.

[301] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 28, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 38.

[302] "Veuillant denoter par icelle, puisque n'a moyen de m'envoyer dire
securement, que la saison sera propice pour jouer des cousteaulx."--
_Ibid._ Jan. 1, p. 1; and _MS. Vienna_.

[303] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 28, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 38.

[304] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 9, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. pp. 68-72.

[305] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 25, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 100.

[306] "Car estant la Royne si haultain de coeur, luy venant en fantasye,
a l'appuy de la faveur de la Princesse, elle se pourroit mettre au champs
et assembler force des gents et luy faire la guerre aussy hardiment que
fit la Royne sa mere." Chapuys à l'Empereur, Mar. 23, 1535.--_MS. Vienna._

[307] Chapuys to Granvelle, March 23, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 432; and _MS. Vienna_.

[308] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 25, 1534.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 105.

[309] _Spanish Calendar_, Feb. 26, 1535, vol. v. p. 402.

[310] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, Feb. 26, 1535, vol. viii. p. 106.

[311] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. pp. 421-22.

[312] Chapuys to Charles V., March 7, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
pp. 413-422.

[313] "Il me dit que vostre Majesté ne se debvoit arrester pour empescher
ung si inestimable bien que produiroit en toute la Chresteaneté l'union et
la bonne intelligence dentre vostre Majesté et le Roi son maistre pour
l'affaire des Royne et Princesse qui n'estoient que mortelles; et que ne
seroit grande dommage de la morte de la dicte Princesse au pris du bien
que sortiroit de la dicte union et intelligence; en quoy il me prioit
vouloir considerer quand seroy seul et desoccupé." Chapuys to Charles V.,
March 23, 1535.--_MS. Vienna_; and _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 426.
This and other of Chapuys's most important letters I transcribed myself at
Vienna.

[314] "Me repliequant de nouveaulx quel dommage ou danger seroyt que la
dicte Princesse feust morte oyres que le peuple en murmurast, et quelle
raison auroit vostre Majesté en fayre cas."

[315] Queen Catherine to Charles V., April 8.--_MS. Vienna_; _Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 197.

[316] Chapuys to Charles V., April 4, 1535.--_MS. Vienna_; _Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 193.

[317] Chapuys to Granvelle, April 5, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 194 and _MS. Vienna_.

[318] Chapuys to Charles V., April 17, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 209.

[319] "Le premier estoit si Dieu vouloit visiter le Roy de quelque petite
maladie." The word _petite_ implied perhaps in Chapuys's mind that Dr.
Butts contemplated a disorder of which he could control the dimensions,
and the word, if he used it, is at least as suspicious as Cromwell's
language about Mary.

[320] "Affirmant pour tout certain qu'il y avoit une xx des principaulx
Seigneurs d'Angleterre et plus de cent Chevaliers tout disposés et prests
à employer personnes, biens, armes, et subjects, ayant le moindre
assistance de vostre Majesté." Chapuys to Charles V., April 25,
1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 222; and _MS.
Vienna_.

[321] Chapuys to Charles V., May 5, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
452.

[322] _Ibid._

[323] Charles V. to Chapuys, May 10, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
459.

[324] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 459.

[325] Chapuys to Charles V., May 8, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
457.

[326] Dr. Ortiz to Charles V., May 27, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 462.

[327] Chapuys to Charles V., May 23, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 280; _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 465.

[328] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 484.

[329] Chapuys to Charles V., June 5, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
483.

[330] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 486.

[331] Chapuys to Charles V., June 30, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 500.

[332] The Bishop of Faenza to M. Ambrogio, June 6, 1535.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. viii. p. 320.

[333] Examination of Fisher in the Tower, June 12, 1535.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. viii. pp. 331 et seq.

[334] News from England, July 1, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p.
507.

[335] Chapuys to Charles V., July 11, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 512.

[336] Cifuentes to Charles V., July 16, 1535.--_Ibid._ p. 515.

[337] _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 532.

[338] Chapuys to Charles V., July 25, 1535.--_Ibid._ vol. v. p. 518.

[339] Memorandum on the Affairs of England.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 522.

[340] _Ibid._ p. 535.

[341] Ortiz to the Empress, Sept. 1, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 84.

[342] "Cuando se viese con la Señora Reyna su hermana despues de dadas mis
afectuosas encomiendas rogarle de mi parte quisiese tener mencion de my
con el Christianisimo Rey su marido y hacer quanto pudiese ser, que el sea
buen amigo al Rey mi Señor procurando de quitarle del pecado, en que
esta." Catherine to the Regent Mary, Aug. 8, 1535.--_MS. Vienna._

[343] Chapuys to Charles V., Sept. 25, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. ix. pp. 140-141.

[344] Chapuys to Granvelle, Sept. 25, 1535.--_Vienna MS._; _Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 141.

[345] The executory brief was not identical with the Bull of Deposition.
The first was the final act of Catherine's process, a declaration that
Henry, having disobeyed the sentence on the divorce delivered by Clement
VII., was excommunicated, and an invitation to the Catholic Powers to
execute the judgment by force. The second involved a claim for the Holy
See on England as a fief of the Church--an intimation that the King of
England had forfeited his crown and that his subjects' allegiance had
reverted to their Supreme Lord. The Pope and Consistory preferred the
complete judgment, as more satisfactory to themselves. The Catholic Powers
objected to it for the same reason. The practical effect would be the
same.

[346] Cifuentes to Charles V., Oct. 8, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
p. 547.

[347] "Et luy supplier de la part de la Reyne, ma mère, et myenne en
l'honneur de Dieu et pour aultres respects que dessus vouloit entendre et
pourvoyr aux affaires dycy. En quoy fera tres agréable service a Dieu, et
n'en acquerra moins de gloire qu'en la conqueste de Tunis et de toute
l'affaire d'Afrique." _De la Princesse de l'Angleterre à l'Ambassadeur_,
October, 1535.--_MS. Vienna_; _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. p. 559.

[348] Queen Catherine to the Pope, October 10, 1535.--_MS. Vienna._

[349] The Bishop of Tarbes to the Bailly of Troyes, October,
1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 187.

[350] Chapuys to Charles V., October 13, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 196.

[351] Chapuys to Granvelle, October 13, 1535.--_Ibid._ p. 199.

[352] _Ibid._ pp. 225, 228.

[353] _Spanish Calendar_, October 24, 1535, vol. v. p. 559.

[354] Ortiz to the Emperor, November 4, 1535.--_Ibid._ vol. v. p. 565.

[355] Du Bellay and the Bishop of Mâcon to Francis I., November 12,
1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 273.

[356] Froude's _History of England_, vol. ii. p. 386.

[357] Bishop of Faenza to M. Ambrogio, November 15, 1535.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 276.

[358] Charles V. to Cifuentes, November, 1535.--_Ibid._ vol. ix. p. 277.

[359] "Tout a cest instant la Marquise de Exeter m'a envoyé dire que le
Roy a dernierement dit à ses plus privés conseillers qu'il ne voulloit
plus demeurer en les fascheuses crainctes et grevements qu'il avoit de
long temps eus à cause des Royne et Princesse; et qu'il y regardassent à
ce prochain Parlement l'en faire quiete, jurant bien et tres obstinement
qu'il n'actendoit plus longuement de y pourvoir." Chapuys to Charles V.,
Nov. 6, 1535.--_MS. Vienna._

[360] "Afin que par ce moyen, perdant l'espoir de la clemence et
misericorde de Vostre Majeste toute-fois fussent plus determinez a se
defendre." Chapuys à l'Empereur.--_MS. Vienna_, Nov. 23.

[361] The Emperor to Chapuys.--_MS. Vienna._

[362] Chapuys to Granvelle, Nov. 21, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 290.

[363] Ortiz to the Empress, Nov. 22, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. ix. pp. 293-4.

[364] Bishop of Faenza to M. Ambrogio, Dec. 9.--_Ibid._ vol. ix. p. 317.

[365] Cifuentes to Charles V., Nov. 30, 1535.--_Ibid._ vol. ix. p. 303.

[366] Chapuys to Charles V., Dec. 18, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 333.

[367] Cardinal du Bellay to the Cardinals of Lorraine and Tournon, Dec.
22, 1535.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. ix. pp. 341-43.

[368] The Bishop of Faenza to M. Ambrogio, Dec. 13, 1535.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. ix. p. 326.

[369] Queen Catherine to Dr. Ortiz, Dec. 13, 1535.--_Ibid._ vol. ix. p.
325.

[370] Queen Catherine to Charles V., Dec. 13, 1535.--_MS. Vienna._

[371] The Emperor to Thomas Cromwell, Dec. 13, 1535.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. ix. p. 588.

[372] "Et que vostre Ma{té} luy avoit usé de la plus grande ingratitude
que l'on scauroit dire, solicitant à l'appetit d'une femme tant de choses
contre luy, que luy avoit faict innumerables maux et fascheries, et de
telle importance, que vostre Ma{té} par menasses et force avoit faict
donner la sentence contre luy, comme le mesme Pape l'avoit confessé."
Chapuys a l'Empereur, Dec. 30, 1535.--_MS. Vienna_; _Spanish Calendar_,
vol. v. p. 595.

[373] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 21, 1536.--_MS. Vienna_; _Spanish
Calendar_, vol. v. part 2, p. 18.

[374] "Je demanday par plusieurs fois au médecin s'il y avoit quelque
soubçon de venin. Il me dict qu'il s'en doubtoit, car depuys qu'elle avoit
beu d'une cervise de Galles elle n'avoit fait bien; et qu'il failloit que
ne fust poison terminé et artificeux, car il ne veoit les signes de simple
et pur venin." Chapuys à l'Empereur, Jan. 9, 1536.--_MS. Vienna_;
_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 22.

[375] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 9 and Jan. 21, 1536.--_MS. Vienna_;
_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. part 2, pp. 2-10.

[376] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 21, 1536.--_MS. Vienna_; _Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 47.

[377] Chapuys to Charles V., Jan. 21 and Jan. 29.--_Spanish Calendar_,
vol. v. part 2, pp. 10-26.

[378] "L'on m'a dicte que la Concubine consoloit ses demoiselles qui
pleuroient, leur disant que c'estoit pour le mieulx, car elle en seroit
tant plus tost enceinte, et que le fils qu'elle pourterait ne seroit
dubieulx comme fust este icelle, estant concen du vivant de la Royne."
Chapuys to Granvelle, Feb. 25, 1536.--_MS. Vienna_; _Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 135.

[379] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb, 17, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 116.

[380] Charles V. to the Emperor, Feb. 1, 1536.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
v. part 2, p. 33.

[381] Report of the Privy Council of Spain, Feb. 26, 1536.--_Ibid._ p. 60.

[382] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 224.

[383] Chapuys to Charles V., Feb. 25, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. pp. 131 et seq.

[384] "Et aussy quant à l'auctorité de l'Eglise Anglicane l'on pourroit
persuader au Roy que la chose se appoineteroit à son honnneur, proufit, et
bien du royaulme."

[385] _I. e._ as part of it. Charles V. to Chapuys, March 28, 1536.--_MS.
Vienna_; _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. pp. 224 et seq.;
_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. part 2, pp. 71 et seq. There are some
differences in the translations in the two Calendars. When I refer to the
MS. at Vienna I use copies made there by myself.

[386] Chapuys to Charles V., April 1, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 243.

[387] Chapuys to Charles V., April 1, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 242.

[388] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, June 2, 1536, vol. x. pp. 428 et
seq.

[389] Chapuys to Charles V., April 21, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. pp. 287 et seq.; _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. part 2,
pp. 85 et seq.

[390] April 21.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic._

[391] Henry VIII. to Pate, April 25, 1536. Abridged.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 306.

[392] "Et que a luy avoit este l'auctorite de descouvrir et parachever les
affairs de la dicte Concubine, en quoy il avoit eu une merveilleuse pene;
et que sur le desplesir et courroux qu'il avoit eu sur le reponse que le
Roy son maistre m'avoit donné le tiers jour de Pasques il se mit a
fantasier et conspirer le dict affaire," etc. Chapuys to Charles V., June
6, 1536.--_MS. Vienna_; _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. part 2, p. 137. From
the word "conspirer" it has been inferred that the accusation of Anne and
her accomplices was a conspiracy of Cromwell's, got up in haste for an
immediate political purpose. Cromwell must have been marvellously rapid,
since within four days he was able to produce a case to lay before a
Special Commission composed of the highest persons in the realm assisted
by the Judges, involving the Queen and a still powerful faction at the
court. We are to believe, too, that he had the inconceivable folly to
acknowledge it to Chapuys, the most dangerous person to whom such a secret
could be communicated. Cromwell was not an idiot, and it is impossible
that in so short a time such an accumulation of evidence could have been
invented and prepared so skilfully as to deceive the Judges.

[393] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, June 2, vol. x. p. 428.

[394] Daughter of Sir Anthony Brown, Master of the Horse.

[395] John Husee to Lady Lisle, May 24, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 397.

[396] Chapuys to Charles V., April 29.--_Spanish Calendar_, p. 105.

[397] _Ibid._

[398] _History of England_, vol. ii. p. 454.

[399] Chapuys to Charles V., May 19, 1536.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
part 2, p. 125.

[400] Chapuys to Charles V., May 2, 1536.--_MSS. Vienna_; _Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 330; _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. part 2,
p. 107.

[401] In transcribing the MS. twenty years ago at Vienna I mistook the
name for Howard, which it much resembled in the handwriting of the time. I
am reminded correctly that there was no Viscount Howard in the English
Peerage.

[402] "Le Visconte Hannaert a escript au Sr de Granvelle que au mesme
instant il avoit entendu de bon lieu que la concubine du dict Roy avoit
esté surprise couchée avec l'organiste du dict Roy."

[403] The Earl of Northumberland to Cromwell, May 13, 1536.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 356.

[404] Cromwell to Gardiner, July 5, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. xi. p. 17.

[405] _History of England_, vol. ii. p. 470.

[406] Sir Henry Wyatt to Thomas Wyatt, May 7, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 345. "Him" refers to Cromwell.

[407] _History of England_, vol. ii. pp. 459-462.

[408] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 430.

[409] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 357.

[410] Autograph letter of Sir Francis Weston, May 3, 1536.--_Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 358.

[411] Cromwell to Wallop and Gardiner, May 14, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign
and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 359.

[412] "Qu'elle avoit faict empoissoner la fene Royne et machyné de faire
de mesme à la Princesse." Chapuys was not present, but was writing from
report, and was not always trustworthy. No trace is found of these
accusations in the Record, but they may have been mentioned in the
pleadings.

[413] "Que le Roy n'estoit habille en cas de copuler avec femme, et qu'il
n'avoit ni vertu ni puissance." Historians, to make their narrative
coherent, assume an intimate acquaintance with the motives for each man's
or woman's actions. Facts may be difficult to ascertain, but motives,
which cannot be ascertained at all unless when acknowledged, they are able
to discern by intuition. They have satisfied themselves that the charges
against Anne Boleyn were invented because the King wished to marry Jane
Seymour. I pretend to no intuition myself. I do not profess to be wise
beyond what I find written. In this instance I hazard a conjecture--a
conjecture merely--which occurred to me long ago as an explanation of some
of the disasters of Henry's marriages, and which the words, alleged to
have been used by Anne to Lady Rochford, tend, _pro tanto_, to confirm.

Henry was already showing signs of the disorder which eventually killed
him. Infirmities in his constitution made it doubtful, both to others and
to himself, whether healthy children, or any children at all, would in
future be born to him. It is possible--I do not say more--that Anne,
feeling that her own precarious position could only be made secure if she
became the mother of a prince, had turned for assistance in despair at her
disappointments to the gentlemen by whom she was surrounded. As an
hypothesis, this is less intolerable than to suppose her another
Messalina. In every instance of alleged offence the solicitation is said
to have proceeded from herself, and to have been only yielded to after an
interval of time.

[414] "Au grand despit de Cromwell et d'aucungs autres qui ne vouldroient
en cest endroit s'engendroit suspicion qui pourroit prejudiquer à la
lignée que le dict Roy pretend avoir."--_MSS. Vienna._

[415] Chapuys to Charles V., May 19, 1536.--_MSS. Vienna_; _Spanish
Calendar_, vol. v. part 2, pp. 122 et seq. In one or two instances my
translation will be found to differ slightly from that of S{r} Gayangas.

[416] Chapuys to Charles V., May 19.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. part 2,
p. 128.

[417] _History of England_, vol. ii. p. 483.

[418] _Wriothesley's Chronicle_ (Camden Society's Publications), vol. i.
p. 39.

[419] Constantine's Memorial.--_Archæologia_, vol. xxiii. pp. 63-66.

[420] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, June 2, vol. x. p. 430.

[421] _Ibid._ p. 431.

[422] Kingston to Cromwell, May 16, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 371.

[423] 28 Hen. VIII. cap. 7.

[424] Chapuys to Granvelle, May 19, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 380.

[425] _Wriothesley's Chronicle_, vol. i. pp. 40, 41.

[426] Chapuys's words are worth preserving. He was mistaken in his account
of the Statute. It did not declare Mary legitimate, and it left Henry
power to name his own successor should his marriage with Jane Seymour
prove unfruitful. So great an error shows the looseness with which he
welcomed any story which fell in with his wishes. He says: "Le statut
declairant la Princesse legitime heretiere, la fille de la Concubine, a
esté revoqué, et elle declairé bastarde, non point comme fille de M.
Norris, comme se pouvoit plus honnestement dire, mais pour avoir esté la
marriage entre la dicte Concubine et le dict Roy illegitime à cause qu'il
avoit cogneu charnellement la soeur de la dicte Concubine: pour laquelle
cause l'Archevesque de Canterburi, ung ou deux jours avant que la dicte
Concubine fut executée, donna et prefera la sentence de divorce, de quoy,
comme sçavez trop mieulx, n'estoit grand besoign, puisque l'epée et la
mort les auroit prochainement et absolument divorcés: et puisque aussy le
vouloient faire, le pretext eust esté plus honneste d'alleguer qu'elle
avoit este mairée à aultre encores vivant. Mais Dieu a voulu descouvrir
plus grande abomination, qui est plus que inexcusable actendu qu'il ne
peut alleguer ignorance neque juris neque facti. Dieu veuille que telle
soit la fin de toutes ses folies!" Chapuys à Granvelle, July 8,
1536.--_MS. Vienna._

[427] This was distinctly laid down in the case of Catherine Howard.

[428] _Wriothesley's Chronicle_, pp. 41, 42.

[429] "Le Roy respondit qu'il avoit trop experimenté en la dicte
Concubine, que c'estoit de la nourriture de France." Chapuys à l'Empereur,
June 6.--_MS. Vienna._

[430] "Me dict qu'icelluy Baily de Troyes et l'autre Ambassadeur avoient
proposé le mariage de l'aisnée fille de France avec ce Roy, mais que
c'estoit peine perdue. Car ce Roy ne se marieroit oncques hors de sou
royaulme, et, luy demandant raison pourquoy, il m'en dit avec assez mine
assurance que se venant à mesfaire de son corps une Reine estrangere qui
fut de grand sang et parentage, l'on ne pourroit chastier et s'en faire
quitte comme il avoit fait de la derniere," Chapuys à l'Empereur.--_MS.
Vienna_, June 6.

[431] Charles V. to Chapuys, May 15, 1536.--_MS. Vienna_; _Calendar,
Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. p. 370.

[432] "Qui à la verité est une musique de hault genre et digne de rire."

[433] _MS. Vienna._

[434] Chapuys to Granvelle, May 19, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 380.

[435] "In causâ matrimonii et in consistoriis et publice et privatim apud
Clementem VII. se omnia quæ potuit pro vestrâ Majestate egisse: et Bononiæ
Imperatori per horas quatuor accurate persuadere conatum fuisse, non esse
Majestatem vestram per illam causam impugnandam." Sir Gregory Casalis to
Henry VIII., May 27, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. x. pp.
406 _et seq._

[436] Cromwell, writing to Gardiner to inform him of the marriage, said
that "the nobles and Council upon their knees had moved him to it." If
their entreaty had been no more than a farce, Cromwell would hardly have
mentioned it so naturally in a private letter to a brother Privy
Councillor.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, vol. xi. p. 16.

[437] Chapuys to Charles V., May 19, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 378.

[438] John Husee to Lord Lisle, May 19.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. x. p. 385.

[439] The Princess Mary to Cromwell, May 26, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic._

[440] Chapuys to Charles V., June 6.--_Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_,
vol. x. p. 440; _Spanish Calendar_, vol. v. pp. 137 et seq.

[441] Charles V. to Chapuys, June 30, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 511.

[442] _Calendar, Foreign and Domestic_, June 6, 1536, vol. x. p. 389.

[443] Chapuys to Charles V., June 6, 1536.--_Calendar, Foreign and
Domestic_, vol. x. p. 441.

[444] Chapuys to Charles V., July 1, 1536.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
part 2, pp. 184 et seq.

[445] Chapuys to Charles V., July 8, 1536.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol. v.
part 2, p. 221. In using the words, "Princess of Wales," Chapuys adds a
curious fact, if fact it be--"Nowhere that I know of," he says, "is the
title of Princess given to a King's daughter as long as there is hope of
male descent. It was the Cardinal of York who, for some whim or other of
his own, broke through the rule and caused Henry's daughter by Catherine
to be called 'Princess of Wales.'"

[446] Cifuentes to Charles V., August 4, 1536.--_Spanish Calendar_, vol.
v. part 2, p. 221.

[447] Chapuys to Charles V., August 12, 1536.




INDEX.


  Abbots, mitred:
    division of opinion on the Annates Bill, 187.

  "Advocation" of a cause to Rome, 108.

  Alençon, Princesse d':
    Wolsey's alleged desire of Henry VIII.'s marriage with, 49 _sq._

  Amadas, Mrs., 235.

  Annates Bill, 187.

  Appeals, Act of, 58, 209.

  Arches Court, the, reformation of, 185.

  Arthur, Prince (Henry VIII.'s brother):
    question of the consummation of his marriage with Catherine, 171.

  Ateca, Father (Bishop of Llandaff), Catherine's confessor, 379.

  Audeley, Chancellor, 405.


  Barentyne, Sir William, 60.

  Barton, Elizabeth. See _Nun of Kent_.

  Bath, Bishop of (English ambassador at Paris), on the initial stages of
        the divorce of Henry VIII., 25.

  Becket, Archbishop (Canterbury), the hero of the English clergy, 158.

  Bellay du (French ambassador to England):
    on Wolsey's position towards the divorce, 94;
    on the Blackfriars Legatine court, 107;
    account of Wolsey after his fall, 121;
    mission from Francis to Anne Boleyn, 250;
    special mission to Clement, 256;
    the Pope's reply, 257 _sqq._;
    mission to the Pope in regard to Milan, 362;
    description of the debate in Consistory on the Bull of Deposition, 369.

  Benet, Dr., English agent at Rome, 104.

  Bishop's courts, the, reformation of, 185.

  Bishops, English:
    their qualified acceptance of the Royal Supremacy, 161;
    their official opinions on the divorce question, 166;
    unanimous against the Annates Bill, 187.

  Bilney, Thomas, burnt as a heretic, by a bishop's order, 255.

  Blackfriars, the trial of the divorce cause before the Legatine court
        at, 49;
    the Papal supremacy on its trial there, 100.

  Boleyn, Sir Thomas (Anne Boleyn's father; afterwards Earl of Wiltshire):
    opposed to his daughter's advancement, 48.
    See also _Wiltshire, Earl of_.

  Boleyn, Lady, 47;
    the charge of her being unduly intimate with Henry VIII., 55, 57.

  Boleyn, Anne:
    account of her family and her early life, 47;
    alleged amour with Henry Percy, _ib._;
    hatred of Wolsey, 48;
    her personal appearance, _ib._;
    attempt to influence Henry in appointing an Abbess, 71;
    annoyance at Wolsey's getting a pension after his fall, 132;
    pleasure at the signs of Henry's breach with the Papacy, 152;
    said (by Chapuys) to be favouring the Lutherans, 163;
    unpopularity arising from her insolence and her intrigues, 167;
    objects to the Princess Mary being near her father, 174;
    created Marchioness of Pembroke, 193;
    compliments paid her by the French king, 194;
    present at the interview between Henry and Francis, 195;
    continued unpopularity, 201;
    agrees to a private marriage, 203;
    a staunch Lutheran, 207;
    announcement of her being _enceinte_, 211;
    her coronation, 230;
    gives birth to a daughter, 238;
    Bill establishing the succession in her offspring by Henry, 262;
    attempts to force Princess Mary to acknowledge her as Queen, 266;
    alleged threats against Mary, 262, 266, 269, 279;
    suspected evil intentions against Catherine, 277;
    meets a rebuff in the acquittal of Lord Dacre, 284;
    violence and insolence to the King through jealousy, 296;
    and to his principal Ministers, 297;
    urges Henry to bring Catherine and Mary to trial under the Succession
          Act, 312;
    joy at Catherine's death, 382;
    friendly message to Mary, 383;
    Anne's continued unpopularity, 385;
    letter to Mrs. Shelton about Mary, 387;
    a second miscarriage, 388;
    a long catalogue of misdeeds charged against her, 402;
    Easter (1536) at Greenwich, 404;
    inquiry into infidelities charged against her, 415;
    charged before the Council with adultery, 417;
    sent to the Tower, _ib._;
    alleged to have planned the poisoning of the Princess Mary and the
          Duke of Richmond, 418;
    denial of the charge of adultery, 419;
    charged with having been herself the solicitor to adultery, 420;
    her trial: the indictment, 426;
    a reason suggested for her infidelities, 426 _n._;
    her trial, 480 _sqq._;
    her confession to Cranmer, invalidating her marriage with Henry, 431;
    her marriage declared null, 431;
    her dying speech, 435;
    execution, _ib._

  Boleyn, Mary:
    Henry VIII.'s alleged intimacy with, 55 _sqq._;
    Chapuys's reference to it, 130.

  Bourbon, Cardinal, 46.

  Bourbon, Duke of:
    his treatment of Italy after the battle of Pavia, 27;
    sack of Rome by (1527), 35.

  Brereton, Sir William (paramour of Anne Boleyn), 416, 419;
    execution, 420.

  Brewer, Mr.:
    his translation and interpretation of Wolsey's suggested Papal
          dispensation for Henry VIII.'s second marriage, 54 _sq._;
    his views on the alleged intrigue between Henry and Mary Boleyn, 58.

  Bribery of ministers, a common custom, 45.

  Brief of Execution:
    its issue still delayed by Paul III., 318;
    differences between it and the Bull of Deposition, 353 _n._

  Brown, Dr. (Augustinian friar):
    denounces the authority of the Pope in England, 298.

  Bryan, Sir Francis:
    his opinion of Clement VII.'s intentions towards Henry VIII., 93;
    suspected of intriguing with Anne, 421.

  Bulls for English bishoprics, enormous cost of, 89.

  Burgo, Andrea de, 103, 168.

  Burgo, Baron de:
    appointed to succeed Casalis as Nuncio in England, 144;
    Chapuys's account of his first interview with Henry, 145;
    protest against the revival of the statute of Præmunire, 148;
    Henry's reply, 149;
    report of an interview with Henry at Hampton Court, and with
          Norfolk, 150;
    reply to Norfolk's caution against introducing Papal briefs, 156;
    his attempted appeal to Convocation, 160;
    presents Clement's brief to Henry, 162;
    account of Henry's reception of the threat of excommunication, 169;
    secret communications with Henry, 205;
    accompanies the King in state to the opening of Parliament, 206.

  Butts, Dr. (Henry's physician):
    Chapuys's account of his treachery, 323.


  Calais, Conference at, 339, 347.

  Cambrai:
    suggested as neutral ground for the trial of the divorce cause, 124,
          129, 169, 176, 200.

  Cambrai, Peace of, 66, 109, 112, 114, 134, 223.

  Campeggio, Bishop (Salisbury), 64, 92;
    chosen by the Pope as special Legate to England, 67 _sq._, 74;
    reception in England, 76;
    his reports thence, 78;
    his consultation with Wolsey, 79;
    suggestion to marry the Princess Mary to the Duke of Richmond, _ib._;
    dilatoriness, 84;
    account of Lutheran proposals to Henry, 91;
    his advice to Catherine at Blackfriars, 100;
    effect upon him of Bishop Fisher's denunciation of the divorce, 107;
    indignity offered to him on his leaving England, 122;
    Henry's reply to his complaint, _ib._;
    revenues of his see sequestrated, 238.

  Canonists, Henry VIII.'s consultation of, and the results, 136.

  Capello, Carlo (Venetian ambassador to London):
    his account of Anne Boleyn's unpopularity, 201.

  Carew, Sir Nicholas, 415.

  Carey, Eleanor:
    Henry VIII.'s refusal to appoint her Abbess of Wilton, 71.

  Casalis, Sir Gregory, English agent at Rome, 37;
    on a special mission to the Pope at Orvieto, 53;
    his report, 63;
    on the Pope's position, 68;
    account of his interview with Clement to complain of dilatoriness, 84;
    after the Pope's recovery from illness, 89;
    _résumé_ of the Pope's position towards the Emperor, 96;
    protests to the Pope against Fisher being made Cardinal, 338.

  Casalis, John (Papal Nuncio in England):
    his statement that the Pope desired to reconcile the King and the
          Emperor, 127;
    the Nuncio "heart and soul" with the King, 135.

  Catherine of Aragon:
    death of her male children by Henry, 21;
    irregularity of her marriage, 23;
    her character, 24;
    description of her by Falieri, 32;
    first discovery of the proposal for a divorce, 34;
    a scene with her husband, 38;
    endeavours to obtain the revocation of Wolsey's Legatine powers, 39;
    no suspicion for some time of Anne Boleyn, 48;
    believed that Wolsey was the instigator of the divorce, 49;
    her ignorance of any intrigue between Henry and either Lady Boleyn or
          her daughter Mary, 58;
    Catherine refuses to acquiesce in a private arrangement of the
          divorce, 62;
    stands resolutely upon her rights, 64;
    objects to the case being tried in England, 75;
    the arguments of the Legates to her, 77;
    the Queen remains still firm, 78;
    her popularity, 79, 81;
    the Brief amending defects in Julius' dispensation, 83, 86;
    Catherine refuses to embrace a conventual life, 87;
    protest against the trial at Blackfriars, 101;
    appeal to Henry there, _ib._;
    Catherine pronounced contumacious, 102;
    her joy at the advocation of the cause to Rome, 108;
    objection to the summoning of Parliament, 110;
    first interview with Chapuys, 113 _sq._;
    demands from Rome instant sentence in her cause, 125;
    dislike of Wolsey up to his death, 132;
    fresh efforts to persuade her to take the veil, 133;
    the suggestion of a neutral place for the trial, 143;
    alarm at the enforcement of Præmunire, 149;
    a party formed in her favour in the House of Commons, 151;
    letter of Catherine to Clement, 151;
    sends a special representative to Rome, 159;
    reception of the news that Henry had declared himself "Pope" in
          England, 162;
    distrust of Clement's intentions, 163;
    renewed appeal to the Emperor, 165;
    causes of her popularity, 167;
    her answer to a delegation of Peers and Bishops urging a neutral
          place of trial, 170;
    sneer at the "Supremum Caput," 171;
    question of the consummation of her marriage with Prince Arthur, 171;
    Catherine separated from her daughter, and sent to Moor Park, 174;
    English nobles make another effort to move Catherine, 176;
    her reply, 177;
    annoyed at the Pope's delays, 179;
    her opinion on the probable result of the meeting of Henry and
          Francis, 193;
    complaints to Charles, 197;
    the proposal that Cranmer should try the cause in the Archbishop's
          court, 207;
    Catherine pressed by English peers to withdraw her appeal, after the
          passing of the Act of Appeals, 214;
    her reply, 216;
    _résumé_ of her position in regard to Henry, 217 _sq._;
    summoned, refuses to appear before Cranmer's court at Dunstable, 220;
    her rejection of the demand that she be styled and endowed as
          "Princess Dowager," 234;
    allowed to have the Princess Mary with her, 234;
    said to have desired a marriage between the Princess and Reginald
          Pole, 241, 295;
    absolute refusal of the renewed Cambrai proposition, 246;
    sent to Kimbolton, and separated again from her daughter, 252;
    fear of foul play, 254;
    insistence that Chapuys should appeal to Parliament for her, 262;
    refusal to take the Succession oath, 271;
    two accounts of her interview with Tunstal and Lee on the subject,
          275 _sq._;
    suspected evil intentions of Anne against her, 277;
    disquiet at the Emperor's inaction, 280;
    obliged to refuse to receive Chapuys at Kimbolton, 281;
    her household reduced by Anne, 296;
    endeavours to quicken the Emperor's resolution, 392;
    anxiety caused by her daughter's second illness, 304;
    the Emperor's refusal to interfere the death-knell of her hopes, 309;
    another appeal to Charles, 319;
    appeal to the Pope to "apply a remedy," 356;
    a similar appeal to Charles, 357;
    what the "remedy" was, 362;
    Catherine's expectation of "martyrdom," 366;
    seized with fatal illness, 372;
    her last letters, 373;
    interviews with Chapuys, 377;
    her death, 379;
    suspicion that she was poisoned, 379 _sqq._;
    her burial as "widow of Prince Arthur," 389.

  Catholic party in England:
    incipient treason develops into definite conspiracy, 240;
    notorious intention to take arms in behalf of Catherine and Mary, 271;
    all their leaders sank into bloody graves, 461.

  Cellini, Benvenuto, anecdote of Clement VII., 75.

  Chabot, Admiral Philip de, 364.

  Chapuys, Eustace (Imperial ambassador to England):
    his character, 112;
    his reception in England, _ib._;
    interview with Henry, 113;
    and with Catherine, 114;
    report on the feeling of the people, _ib._;
    report of Henry's refusal to aid Charles with money against the
          Turks, 126;
    and of Henry's attack on the Pope and Cardinals, _ib._;
    on Henry's firm determination to marry again, 127;
    on English popular hatred of the priests, 128;
    suggestion of reference to the Sorbonne, 129;
    on Norfolk's dread of Wolsey's return to office, 132;
    statement that the Commons were sounded on the divorce, 133;
    report of Norfolk's opinion of probable results of refusing the
          divorce, 136 _sq._;
    Chapuys's mistaken estimate of English feeling, 137;
    on Wolsey's communications with Catherine, 138;
    and his desire to "call in the secular arm," 139;
    secrets obtained from Wolsey's physician, 140;
    his account of De Burgo's (Nuncio) first interview with Henry
          (1530), 145;
    advice to the Nuncio, 146;
    on Anne Boleyn's jubilance, 152;
    dislike of his position in England, 153;
    reply to Norfolk's statement of the superiority in England of the
          King's to the Pope's authority, 155;
    astounded by the enforcement of Præmunire against the English
          clergy, 160;
    blames Clement's timidity and dissimulation, 162;
    his account of Henry's treatment of the Pope's attempts at friendly
          negotiations, 178;
    report of Henry's denunciation of Papal claims in England, 209;
    desires the Emperor to make war on England, 213;
    interview with Henry after the passing of the Act of Appeals, 214;
    report on Cranmer's judgment, 221;
    bold action, and consequent discussion with the Council, 226;
    proposes a special Spanish embassy to London, 233;
    his high opinion of Thomas Cromwell, 236;
    attempt to combine Scotland and England through a marriage between
          James and the Princess Mary, 261;
    interview with Henry as to Catherine's appeal to Parliament, 263;
    his intrigues with Scotland and with Ireland against the peace of
          England, 268 _sq._, 275;
    speech to the English Council against the Succession oath, 272 _sq._;
    presses his views on Cromwell, 275;
    account of Tunstal's and Lee's interview with Catherine on the
          Succession oath, 276;
    expresses fears for the safety of Catherine's life, 277;
    his pilgrimage to our Lady of Walsingham (taking Kimbolton on the
          way), 281 _sq._;
    delight at the Irish rebellion, 285;
    renewed fears for the safety of Catherine and Mary, 286;
    negotiations for insurrection with Lords Hussey and Darcy, 288 _sq._;
    reversal of his revolutionary tactics, 309;
    fresh negotiations with Cromwell, 309 _sqq._;
    belief that Cromwell desired to have the Princess Mary made away
          with, 314;
    presses on Cromwell the appeal to a General Council, 321;
    letter to Charles emphasizing Catherine's appeals for the "remedy,"
          357;
    belief that time and circumstances were propitious, 358;
    reception of Cromwell's protest against the Emperor's supposed
          intended attack on Henry, 359;
    interviews with the Marchioness of Exeter, 365;
    interview with Henry before visiting Catherine in her mortal
          illness, 374;
    visit to Catherine, 377;
    suspicious as to her having been poisoned, 379 _sqq._;
    advice to Mary in regard to Anne Boleyn, 383;
    another plan for Mary's escape, 391;
    resumes negotiations with Cromwell for a treaty between Charles and
          Henry, 394;
    expectations of Henry's separation from Anne, 400;
    continued negotiations for the treaty, 403;
    account of the Easter (1536) at Greenwich, 404;
    Henry insists on a letter from Charles, 406, 408;
    Chapuys's report to Charles, 409;
    report to the Emperor of Anne Boleyn's downfall, 418;
    false account of Rochford's dying speech, 428;
    his explanation of Anne's mysterious confession to Cranmer, 432;
    reports about Jane Seymour, 442;
    the negotiations for a treaty again taken up, 446;
    introduced to Henry's new Queen, 448;
    advises Mary to take the Succession oath with a secret protest, 457;
    on the title "Princess of Wales," 459 _n._;
    difficulty with Rome about absolution for Mary's "protest," 460;
    the success of the Reformation indirectly owing to Chapuys, 463.

  Charles V. (Emperor):
    his position in regard to Europe in 1526, 26;
    his relations to the Church, 43;
    letter to Henry VIII. on his desired divorce, 44;
    letter to Wolsey, 45;
    persistent efforts to bribe Wolsey, 50;
    allows the Pope to escape from captivity, 52;
    suggests a private arrangement between Henry and Catherine, 64;
    declaration of war by France and England against Charles, 65;
    his reply, _ib._;
    instructions to Mendoza on the Legatine Commission, 74;
    letter to Catherine, 75;
    suggestion that she should take the veil, 77;
    becomes the champion of the Roman hierarchy, 97;
    seeks Henry's aid against the Turks, 126;
    determination to stand by Catherine, 133;
    fear of exciting the German Lutherans, _ib._;
    his coronation at Bologna, 134;
    reply to the English deputies, _ib._;
    personal interest in the question of papal dispensations--his affinity
          to his wife, 141;
    unconscious of the changes passing over the mind of the English
          people, 154;
    perplexed by Henry's enforcement of Præmunire, 164;
    letter to Sir T. More, 167;
    insistence that only the Pope should be the judge in Henry's case, 171;
    slight modification in his demand, 173;
    efforts to effect reunion of the Lutherans with the Church, 175;
    his position towards England after Cranmer's judgment, 222 _sqq._;
    his nearness to the succession to the English Crown, 254;
    dread of an Anglo-French alliance, 278;
    suggests a joint embassy to England from the Pope and himself, _ib._;
    causes of his hesitation to accede to the wishes of the reactionists
          in England, 299, 302;
    ultimate refusal, 306, 308;
    proposed treaty between Charles and Henry, 307;
    letter to Henry relating to the proposed treaty, 335;
    his successful campaign in Africa, 347;
    memorandum of the Spanish Council of State, 348;
    apparent change of feeling towards Henry, 360;
    modifications of policy after the death of Duke Sforza (Milan), 364;
    Charles's treatment of Chapuys's alarms about Henry's intentions
          towards Catherine and Mary, 366;
    reception of the news of Catherine's death, 392;
    resumption of negotiations for the abandoned treaty, 394;
    eagerness for reconciliation with Henry, 396;
    his proposal, 397;
    anticipated remarriage of Henry, 398;
    reply to Cromwell's suggestions on the treaty, 403;
    proposes the Infanta of Portugal as a wife for Henry, and the Infant
          (Don Louis) as a husband for Princess Mary, 438;
    an alternative proposal, _ib._;
    disappointed with Henry's conduct after his new marriage, 448;
    signally defeated by the French in Provence, 449.

  Charterhouse monks:
    their retractation of their Supremacy oath, 327;
    executed for treason, 328.

  Church reform in the Parliament of 1529, 115 _sqq._, 127 _sq._

  Cifuentes, Count de (Imperial ambassador to Rome), 210, 224, 231, 256
        _sqq._, 270, 278, 346 _sq._, 353, 460.

  Clarencieulx (English herald), 65.

  Clarendon, Constitutions of, 184 _sq._

  Clement VII., Pope:
    his political position when the divorce was first mooted, 25;
    Charles V.'s inroads on Italy, 27;
    the Pope's appeal for help to Henry VIII., _ib._;
    financial difficulties and the method of relieving them, 30;
    a witness of the sack of Rome (1527), 35;
    his captivity, 38, 44;
    Dr. Knight's mission to, from Henry VIII, 51;
    the Pope's escape to Orvieto, 52;
    his desire to please Henry, 62;
    his suggestion of a compromise, 63;
    concessions to Henry, 67;
    consent that the cause should be heard in England, 68;
    the secret "decretal," 69;
    alleged contingent assent to the proposal to marry Princess Mary to
          Duke of Richmond, 80;
    perplexities in regard to the secret "decretal," 84;
    fresh pressure from the Emperor, 86;
    the brief of Julius II., 87;
    serious illness of Clement, 88;
    expresses determination not to grant the divorce, 90;
    _résumé_ of his halting conduct in the cause, 99;
    between the hammer and the anvil, 105;
    veers towards Henry's side, 125;
    desirous to reconcile Henry and the Emperor, 127;
    his prohibitory brief against Henry's second marriage, 134;
    the hand of the Emperor therein, _ib._;
    his desire that Henry should solve the difficulty, by marriage, 142;
    his reply to the English mission after the failure at Blackfriars, 144;
    issues a second brief forbidding Henry's second marriage, 153;
    continued desire of a compromise, 160;
    treatment of the appeal to a General Council, 166;
    reasons for his delay in the divorce case, 168 _sq._;
    brought by Micer Mai to consent to communion in both kinds and to the
          marriage of priests, 175;
    attempts friendly negotiations with Henry, 178;
    Clement's distrust as to the statements about English popular
          sentiment, 180;
    he sends Henry another expostulating brief, 181, 189;
    Ortiz's attempt to extract a sentence of excommunication, 189;
    Clement's privately expressed wish that Henry would marry without
          waiting for sentence, 192;
    another brief prepared against Henry, 196;
    continued indecision, 197;
    conditional excommunication of Henry, 198;
    reception of the news of Henry's marriage, 210;
    preparation for the interview with Francis at Nice, 231;
    Clement signs the brief _Super Attentatis_, 233;
    interview with Francis at Marseilles, 243;
    treatment of the French suggestion that Henry's case should be heard
          at Cambrai, 244;
    subject to a cross-fire of influences, 256 _sqq._;
    the sentence delivered: the marriage of Henry and Catherine declared
          valid, 259;
    threat to absolve English subjects from their allegiance, 265;
    the Brief of Execution (calling in the secular arm) held back, 278;
    Clement's death, 290.

  Clergy Discipline Acts, 125.

  Clergy (English):
    their state, and the popular feeling towards them, 115;
    their sentiments on the contest between Henry and the Pope, 157;
    unanimous censure of the King, 158;
    the clergy under Præmunire, _ib._;
    felonious clerks punished like secular criminals, 185;
    traitor priests executed in their clerical habits, 185, 462;
    indignation of the clergy at the statutes passed in restraint of their
          privileges, 451.

  Commission to investigate charges against Anne Boleyn, the, 420;
    the evidence before them, 421.

  Commons, Petition of the (1529), 115.

  Comunidades, the revolt of the, 43.

  Conspiracy connected with the Nun of Kent, 195, 247, 265.

  Convocation:
    De Burgo's futile appeal to, 160;
    acceptance of Royal Supremacy, 186;
    alleged address against annates, 187 _n._

  Covos, Secretary, 269.

  Cranmer, Thomas (afterwards Archbishop):
    one of the English deputies at the coronation of Charles V., 134;
    his marriage as a priest, 202;
    made Archbishop of Canterbury, 203;
    the proposal that he should try the divorce cause, 207;
    gives judgment for the divorce, 220;
    his qualified oath to the Pope, 227;
    his high regard for Anne, 421;
    his alarm for the political results of Anne's guilt, 450.

  Cromwell, Thomas:
    his relations with Chapuys, 229, 235, 240;
    sketch of his career, 236;
    eager for the reform of the clergy, 237;
    alleged desire of the deaths of Catherine and Mary, 286;
    his discovery of the Emperor's intentions in regard to Princes Mary,
          302;
    on the illness of the Princess, 303;
    his political principles, 308;
    in negotiation again with Chapuys, 309, 321, 330, 333;
    professed anxiety for Catherine's and Mary's safety, 311;
    Anne Boleyn's enmity to him, 334;
    statement of English objection to a Papal General Council, 339;
    interferes with the election of the Lord Mayor, 359;
    treatment of Chapuys's advances for resuming negotiations of the
          abandoned treaty, 394;
    contingent acceptance of the Emperor's proposals, 395;
    sounded by Chapuys as to Henry's possible separation from Anne, 400;
    negotiations continued, 403;
    his knowledge of Anne's infidelities, 413;
    informs the King, 415;
    report of the proceedings against Anne, 424;
    the commission of investigation of monastic establishments, 452;
    influence over some parliamentary elections, 454;
    a strong friend of Princess Mary, 455;
    her refusal of the Succession oath brings on Cromwell the King's
          displeasure, 457;
    expresses his belief that Mary will be declared his heir by the King,
          460.


  Dacre of Naworth, Lord:
    tried for treason, and acquitted, 284.

  Darcy of Templehurst, Lord:
    his charges against Wolsey, 117 _sqq._;
    opinions on the Royal Supremacy, 186;
    scheme proposed by him to Chapuys for an insurrection against Henry,
          289;
    intimates to Chapuys that the time of action has arrived, 298;
    eager for insurrection, 332, 346;
    comes to a violent end, 461.

  Darcy, Sir Arthur (Lord Darcy's son), 312.

  Darius, Sylvester, English agent at Valladolid, 82.

  Davalos, Rodrigo (Spanish lawyer):
    his special method of expediting the divorce suit at Rome, 232.

  Deceased husband's brother, marriage with, 24, 52.

  Deposition, the Bull of:
    not identical with the Brief of Execution, 353 _n._

  Desmond, Earl of:
    offers his services to the Emperor against Henry, 269.

  Dispensing power, the Papal claim of, in matrimonial matters, 24, 33;
    various views of canon lawyers, 125;
    how it affected various Royal families, 141;
    a Cardinal's opinion of the alleged power, 160.

  Dublin, Archbishop of, slaughtered by Lord Thomas Fitzgerald, 285.

  Dunstable, Cranmer's court at, 220.

  Durham, Wolsey bishop of, 89.

  Dyngley, Sir Thomas, 59.


  Ecclesiastical Courts:
    their tyranny over the laity, 115.

  Edward IV.:
    his children by Elizabeth Grey declared by a Church court to be
          illegitimate, 22.

  Elections, parliamentary, limited extent of Crown influence over,
        453 _sq._

  Elizabeth, Princess: proposal for her marriage with the Duke of
        Angoulême, 331.

  Emmanuel, King (Portugal):
    married successively to two sisters and their niece, 141.

  English people:
    their sentiments on the contest between Henry and the Pope, 157, 167;
    wearied of the tyranny of Rome, and of the iniquities of Church courts
          and the clergy, 451.

  Esher, Wolsey's residence at, 132.

  Essex, Sir William, 60.

  Europe, general interest of, in the English Reformation movement, 13.

  Exeter, Marchioness of, 365 _sq._, 400.

  Exeter, Marquis of (grandson of Edward IV.:
    a possible claimant to succeed Henry VIII.), 23, 214, 457, 461.


  Falieri, Ludovico (Venetian ambassador to England):
    his descriptions of Queen Catherine and Henry VIII., 32;
    on female succession to the English crown, 123.

  Ferdinand (King of Hungary, and King of the Romans:
    Charles V.'s brother), 133, 342.

  Fisher, Bishop (Rochester):
    his first views about the divorce, 42;
    his emphatic denunciation of it, 106;
    objection to the Clergy Discipline Acts, 125;
    staunch in favour of Catherine, 151;
    his opposition to the Royal Supremacy overcome by threats, 163;
    determination to defend Catherine in Parliament, 184;
    committed to the custody of Bishop Gardiner, 212;
    released, 231;
    becomes leader of the Catholic conspiracy, 241;
    sent to the Tower, 249;
    again sent to the Tower for refusing to take the Succession oath, 268;
    created Cardinal, 338;
    committed for trial, 339;
    incriminating letters found on him, 341;
    trial and execution, 343.

  Fitzgerald, Lord Thomas:
    in negotiation with Chapuys, 269;
    in open rebellion against Henry, 285;
    want of means, 297;
    defeat, 301;
    receives the Pope's absolution for the murder of the Archbishop of
          Dublin, 332;
    a prisoner in the Tower, 355;
    executed, 361.

  Fitzwilliam, Sir William, 176, 417, 419, 457.

  Flemish artisans in London, 83.

  Floriano, Messer:
    his speech on Campeggio's arrival in London, 76.

  Foxe, Dr. (afterwards Bishop):
    his mission from Henry to Clement, 66;
    his reply to Chapuys's defence of his action for Catherine, 227.

  Francis I. (France), defeat and capture of, at Pavia, 25;
    his belief that Charles intended to transfer the Apostolic See to
          Spain, 46;
    doubts Wolsey's honesty in regard to Henry VIII., 95;
    negotiations with the Smalcaldic League against Charles V., 135;
    promise to arrange with the Pope if Henry cut the knot and married,
          144;
    desires the Pope to delay sentence, 165;
    his compliments and presents to Anne Boleyn, 194;
    meeting with Henry, 195;
    encourages Henry to marry and break with the Pope, _ib._;
    fails to keep his apparent promise to Henry, 231;
    abandons Henry, 243;
    letter to Anne Boleyn, 250;
    last efforts at Rome, 256 _sq._;
    influence on him of the remembrance of Pavia, 278;
    desire to set up a Patriarchate of France, 279;
    promotes the election of Farnese (Paul III.), 291;
    anxious desire to take Milan, 331, 334;
    dubious position on the question of the Papal deposition of Henry, 349;
    fresh aspirations towards Milan, 362;
    policy towards the Bull of Deposition, 364;
    successful invasion of Italy, 449;
    defeats Charles in Provence, _ib._


  Gardiner, Stephen, 66, 92, 131, 212, 424.

  General Council:
    suggested appeal to, for the settlement of difficulties, 166, 312,
          320, 339;
    demanded of the Pope by France and England, 195.

  Ghinucci, Bishop (Worcester), 64;
    revenues of his see sequestrated, 238.

  Granvelle (Spanish Minister), 353, 409, 419, 438.

  Grey, Lord Leonard, 360.

  Greys, the family of, possible claimants to succeed Henry VIII., 23.

  Gueldres, Duke of, 405.


  Hannaert, Viscount (Charles's ambassador at Paris):
    promotes a treaty between Charles and Henry, 307;
    his report on Anne's infidelity, 419.

  Haughton, Prior (Charterhouse), executed for treason, 328.

  Henry VIII.:
    effect of religious prejudice in estimating his character: on
          Catholics, 4;
    High Churchmen, 5;
    Protestants, _ib._;
    his ministers and prelates must share in whatever was questionable
          in his acts, 8;
    his personal popularity, 9;
    permanent character of his legislation, 10;
    its benefits extended beyond England, 11;
    all his laws were submitted to his Parliament, 13;
    calumnies and libels against Henry in his lifetime, 14;
    recent discovery of unpublished materials for his history, 15;
    nature and especial value of these, 16 _sq._

  Henry VIII.:
    prospects (in 1526) of a disputed succession through the lack of an
          heir, 21;
    primary reason for his ceasing to cohabit with Catherine, _ib._;
    irregularity of his marriage, 23;
    first mention of the divorce, 25;
    receives an appeal for help from Clement VII., 27;
    sends the Pope money, 28;
    the first public expression of a doubt as to Princess Mary's
          legitimacy, 31;
    Falieri's description of Henry, 32;
    the King before the Legatine court, 34;
    unpopularity of the divorce, 39;
    receives a letter from Charles urging him not to make the divorce
          question public, 44;
    Henry determines to choose a successor to Catherine, 47;
    attracted to Anne Boleyn, _ib._;
    endeavors to obtain from the Pope a dispensation to marry a second
          time, 51;
    _résumé_ of Henry's position, 52 _sq._;
    examination of the charge that Henry's connection with Anne was
          incestuous, 55 _sqq._;
    the Pope's advice that he should marry again and then proceed with the
          trial, 63;
    Henry joins with France in declaring war against Charles, 65;
    his statement of his case as laid before Clement at Orvieto, 67;
    Henry's letter to Anne Boleyn, 70;
    the Abbess of Wilton, 71;
    Henry's letter of complaint to Wolsey about the appointment of an
          unfitting person, 72;
    Campeggio's prearranged delays, 74;
    speech in the City, 81;
    resolves to let the trial proceed before Campeggio and Wolsey, 93;
    Henry's address to the Legates at Blackfriars, 101;
    refuses to accept Clement, the Emperor's prisoner, as judge of his
          cause, 102;
    his momentary inclination to abandon Anne, 111;
    reception of Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador, 112;
    interpretation of the advocation of his case to Rome, 123;
    denunciation of the Pope and Cardinals, 126;
    approves of the _reforming_ side of Lutheranism, _ib._;
    consults foreign doctors on his cause, 127, 134, 136;
    continued liking for Wolsey, 129;
    a brief from Clement forbidding his marriage, 134;
    Henry invited by Francis to join the Smalcaldic League, 135;
    desire to recall Wolsey, 136;
    sends him down to his diocese, 139;
    the suggestion of a neutral place for the trial, 143;
    Henry again denounces the Pope and all his Court, 145;
    emphatically refuses to allow his cause to be tried at Rome, _ib._;
    revival of the Præmunire, 147;
    a step towards the break with the Papacy, 149;
    Henry's direct appeal to the Pope, 150;
    Clement's second brief against Henry's second marriage, 153;
    a struggle with the Pope inevitable, 157;
    clipping the claws of the clergy, 158;
    Henry declared Supreme Head of the Church of England, 159;
    receives the Papal brief forbidding his second marriage, 162;
    reply to the Nuncio's questions as to the nature of his new Papacy,
          163;
    and to the Pope's appeal for aid against the Turks, 164, 178;
    disregards the Pope's threat of excommunication, 169;
    rejects the Pope's efforts at friendly negotiations, 178;
    alleged bribery by Henry's ambassador at Rome, 179;
    deliberateness of Henry's conduct of his policy, 182;
    his reply to Bishop Tunstal's letter against schism, 183;
    steps towards the toleration of heresy, 186;
    displeasure with More, _ib._;
    Annates Bill, 187;
    French advice to Henry to marry without waiting for sentence, 192;
    meeting with Francis, 193 _sqq._;
    the immediate outcome thereof, 195 _sq._;
    rumour of his secret marriage with Anne, 196;
    again threatened with excommunication, 198;
    Henry appoints Cranmer to Canterbury, 203;
    privately married to Anne Boleyn, _ib._;
    his law in restraint of the powers of bishops, 205;
    courteous conduct towards the Nuncio, 206;
    allows his marriage to be known, 208;
    preparations for possible war, _ib._;
    appeals to Rome forbidden, 209;
    _résumé_ of Henry's position (in regard to the divorce) towards the
          Pope, 218 _sq._;
    Cranmer's judgment, 220;
    Henry informs the Emperor of his marriage, 224;
    the formal announcement in the House of Lords, 225;
    discovers that he had been misled by Francis, 231, 235, 245;
    disappointment at the birth of a daughter, 238;
    order that the Pope was only to be styled "Bishop of Rome," 230;
    difficulty in disposing of Catherine, 251;
    Henry's fears of an insurrection, _ib._;
    the King's nomination to bishoprics sufficient, without requiring
          Papal Bulls, 256;
    the Papal sentence, 259;
    passage of the Act abolishing the Pope's authority in England, _ib._;
    refusal of Chapuys's demand to speak in Parliament for Catherine, 263;
    enforces the oath to the Succession Act, 267;
    orders more kindly treatment of Princess Mary, 271;
    the question of demanding the Succession oath from Catherine and Mary,
          271 _sqq._;
    the King modifies the demand, 276;
    another meeting with Francis arranged, but postponed, 279;
    cooling of his feelings for Anne, 286;
    reported _nouvelles amours_, 287, 296;
    interference on behalf of Mary, 287;
    refuses to acknowledge any special authority in any Pope, 291;
    prospects of civil war, 301;
    anxiety for Mary in her second illness, 303;
    refuses Chapuys's request that she should be again placed under her
          mother's care, 304;
    his high opinion of Catherine's courage, 305;
    desire to be on good terms with Charles, 310;
    letters to Sir John Wallop for the Spanish Ambassador in Paris, 330;
    receives a letter from Charles, 335;
    threat in regard to "Cardinal" Fisher, 339;
    jealousy of the rival Powers, 350;
    enthusiastic reception during his progress to the Welsh borders, _ib._;
    slanders against him on the Continent, 359;
    interference in the election of Lord Mayor, _ib._;
    a period of danger for Henry, 361;
    opinion that Catherine and Mary must "bend or break," 365;
    interview with Chapuys during Catherine's mortal illness, 375;
    effect of Catherine's death, 382;
    rejoicings in the Palace, 383;
    Henry's treatment of Mary, 384;
    beginning of his dissatisfaction with Anne, 387;
    disappointment at her second miscarriage, 389;
    present from him to Mary of her mother's crucifix, 395;
    speculation on his remarriage, 398;
    rumours about Henry's partiality to Jane Seymour, 400;
    his legal position towards Anne Boleyn, 401;
    refuses the Emperor's proposal of reconciliation with Rome, 403;
    reception of Chapuys at Greenwich (Easter, 1536), 404 _sqq._;
    Henry's determined position towards Charles, 406 _sqq._;
    his report on the affair to his ambassador to the Emperor, 410;
    dissolution of Parliament, 413;
    informed of Anne's infidelities, orders an inquiry, 415;
    the trials resulting, 422 _sqq._;
    the trial of Anne, 425;
    the mystery of Anne's confession to Cranmer, 430 _sqq._;
    the Lambeth sentence, 431;
    Anne's execution: high personages present by the King's command, 435;
    competition from the Continent for his hand, 436;
    overtures for reconciliation from Rome, 440 _sq._;
    Jane Seymour, 441;
    speedy marriage with her, 444;
    Mary restored to favor, 445;
    Henry's declaration of neutrality in the war between Francis and
          Charles, 449;
    his return to the Roman communion expected by the Catholics, 450;
    determination to carry out the Reformation, 452;
    his difficult position towards the new Parliament, 453;
    his popularity strengthened by the condemnation of Anne, 454;
    strength of his affection for Mary, 455;
    his anger at her again refusing to take the Succession oath, 457;
    joy at her acquiescence, 458;
    hopeless of further offspring, 460;
    close of the first Act of the Reformation, 460 _sqq._

  Husee, John:
    his letter on Anne Boleyn to Lord and Lady Lisle, 422;
    on Henry's seclusion after Anne Boleyn's execution, 444.

  Hussey, Lady, 457.

  Hussey, Lord, 288, 334, 461.


  Illegitimacy, treatment of, by the Church of Rome, 22.

  Inteville, M. d':
    his compound mission to England, 423, 437.

  Ireland, rebellion in:
    proofs that it was part of a Papal holy war, 285.

  Italian conjuror, the, 294.

  Italian League, the, 28.


  Jaen, Cardinal of, 269.

  James V. of Scotland, a possible claimant to succeed Henry VIII., 23.

  Jordan, Isabella (Prioress of Wilton), 71.

  Julius II., Pope:
    his dispensation for Henry VIII.'s first marriage, 53;
    defects in his Bull of dispensation to Henry, 83;
    alleged brief correcting these, 83, 87;
    a Roman opinion of the nullity of his dispensation, 160.


  Kimbolton, Catherine's residence at, 252.

  Kingston, Sir W. (Constable of the Tower), 300, 431, 435, 443.

  Kite, Bishop (Carlisle), 443.

  Knight, Dr. (secretary to Henry VIII.):
    his special mission to Rome, 51.


  Laity, English middle class:
    their feelings towards Queen Catherine and towards the Church, 79.

  Lambeth sentence, the:
     the nullity of Henry's marriage with Anne Boleyn, 431 _sq._

  Langey, Sieur de:
    special envoy to Anne Boleyn from Francis, 194.

  Lee, Archbishop (York), 176.

  Legatine Commission, the (Campeggio's), 67 _sqq._, 74, 76.

  Legatine court, Wolsey's, 34.

  Legend, invulnerability of, 61.

  Legends, historic, 1 _sqq._

  Liberty, spiritual, of the world, won by Henry's work in the
        Reformation, 463.

  Liège, Cardinal of:
    suggested as a judge in the divorce cause, 144.

  Lincolnshire rebellion, 460.

  Lingard, Dr.:
    his interpretation of Wolsey's suggested Papal dispensation for
          Henry VIII.'s second marriage, 55.

  Llandaff, Queen Catherine's confessor Bishop of, 64.

  Lorraine, Cardinal, 46.

  Louis XII.:
    his method of settling a matrimonial difficulty, 188.

  Luther, Henry VIII.'s partial sympathy with, 126.

  Lutheran advances to Henry VIII., 91.

  Lutheranism:
    its rapid spread in England, 255, 280, 297.

  Lutherans, German:
    their tacit encouragement by Charles V., 27, 35;
    his fear of exciting them, 133;
    decidedly opposed to Henry's divorce, 154.


  Mai, Micer:
    Imperial agent at Rome, 89;
    resentment of a slight put upon the Emperor, 90;
    assent to Lutheran political objections to Rome, 91;
    his opinion of the Pope and his councillors, 103;
    and of Salviati's instructions to Campeggio, _ib._;
    reports on the mission from Henry to Clement, 143;
    suggestion of a General Council to settle difficulties, 166;
    obtains from Clement concessions as to reunion of Lutherans, 175;
    distracted with the Pope's evasions, 179;
    charges English ambassador with bribery, 179, 191.

  Manor of the More, Wolsey's residence at, 116.

  Martyrology:
    the Protestant longer and no less honourable than the Catholic, 463.

  Mary, Princess:
    proposed marriage of, with Francis I. or with one of his sons, 29;
    suggested proposal to marry her to her father's natural son (Duke of
          Richmond), 79;
    separated from her mother, 174;
    her father's love of her, _ib._;
    the Emperor's desire to protect her rights, 200;
    allowed again to live with her mother, 234;
    deprived of the title of "Princess," 240;
    letter to her father after his marriage with Anne, 254;
    attached to the establishment of her sister Elizabeth, 252;
    anecdotes of the King's affection for her, 252 _sq._;
    her determined attitude, 261, 266;
    "shows her teeth" against the Succession oath, 271 _sq._;
    has an alarming illness, 286;
    belief that her life is threatened, 287;
    project to convey her out of England, 300;
    another serious illness, 302;
    consternation of the physicians, 303;
    reality of her personal danger, 317;
    fresh plans for her escape, 319;
    removed from Greenwich to Eltham, 320;
    further plans, _ib._;
    petition to the Emperor to "apply the remedy," 355;
    her friends desire to have her married to the Dauphin, 358;
    reply to Anne Boleyn's friendly message after Catherine's death, 383;
    discovery of a letter about her from Anne to Mrs. Shelton, 388;
    proposal to take the Succession oath with a mental reservation, 390;
    another plan of escape, 391;
    rejoiced at the prospect of her father's separation from Anne, 399;
    received back into her father's favor, 445;
    question of her marriage, 446;
    her popularity increased in consequence of the machinations of Anne,
          455;
    the question of the Succession oath revived, 456;
    by Chapuys's advice she submits (with a secret protest), 457;
    delight of the King and Queen, 458;
    her real feelings not disguised, _ib._;
    unable to obtain a Papal absolution for the "secret protest" connected
          with her oath, 460.

  Maximilian, Emperor:
    his high opinion of the English people, 20.

  Medici, Catherine de' (niece of Clement VII.), marriage of, with the
        Duke of Orleans, 243.

  "Melun, the eels of" (proverb), 226.

  Mendoza, Inigo de (Bishop of Burgos), mission of, from Spain to France
        and England, 29, 32, 34, 38;
    offers Wolsey the bribe of the Papacy, 39;
    instructed to offer other bribes to win Wolsey's friendship to the
          Emperor, 45;
    his first mention of Anne Boleyn, 48;
    his belief that Wolsey was the instigator of the divorce, 49;
    reports to Charles on the Legatine Commission, 75;
    mistaken estimate of English national opinion, 82;
    recalled: his farewell interview with Henry, 97.

  Milan:
    the question of succession reopened, 362;
    treaty prepared by Spain for settlement of the dispute, 393.

  Molza, Gerardo:
    his account of Campeggio's reception in England, 76.

  Monastic orders:
    their depraved condition, 325;
    preachers of insurrection, 326;
    the "very stews of unnatural crime," 350;
    continued proofs of their iniquitous condition, 452.

  Money, comparative value of, in Henry VIII.'s time, 89, 117.

  Montague, Lord, 305, 461.

  Montfalconet (Charles's maître d'hôtel):
    his report to Charles on Catherine's desire for a sentence, 188.

  Moor Park:
    Catherine's residence at, 174.

  More, Sir Thomas:
    made Lord Chancellor, 120;
    lack of sympathy with advanced Reformers, 131;
    enforces heresy laws against Lutherans, 154;
    horrified at the King's claim to Supremacy over the Church, he resigns
          the Chancellorship, 163;
    statement before the Lords of the opinions of Universities on the
          divorce, 166;
    his chancellorship distinguished for heresy-prosecutions, 186;
    resigns his office, 188;
    sent to the Tower for refusing to take the Succession oath, 268;
    his prophecy in regard to Anne Boleyn's fate, 329;
    committed for trial, 339;
    sketch of his position, 343;
    trial, 344;
    execution, 345.

  Mortmain Acts:
    measures to prevent their evasion, 185.

  Mountjoy, Lord, 214.

  Mythic element, the, influence of, in history, 1.


  Nixe, Bishop (Norwich):
    imprisoned for burning a heretic, 255 _sq._

  Norfolk, Duke of (uncle of Anne Boleyn), joins in an appeal to the Pope
        to concede the divorce, 84;
    opposed to Anne's marriage with the King, 111;
    sentiments about the divorce, 114;
    made President of the Council, 120;
    his opinion on the absolute need of the divorce (1529), 128;
    condemnation of the Pope's position in the matter, 129;
    suspicions of Wolsey's possible return to power, 129, 131 _sq._;
    his statement to Chapuys of the necessity of Henry having made
          succession, 136;
    suggests the Cardinal of Liège and the Bishop of Tarbes as judges in
          the divorce cause, 143;
    cautions Chapuys against introducing Papal briefs into England, 154;
    firm stand against the threat of excommunication, 164;
    admiration of Catherine and dislike of Anne Boleyn, 167;
    heads a deputation of Peers and Bishops to Catherine, 170;
    consultation with Peers on restraint of Papal jurisdiction, 186;
    his courtesies to the Papal Nuncio, 206;
    interview with Chapuys before attending the meeting of the Pope and
          King Francis at Nice, 230;
    denunciation of Rome and Romanism, 250;
    expected that Henry would submit to the successor of Clement in the
          Papacy, 291;
    withdrawal from Court, 305;
    present at the execution of Charterhouse monks, 328.

  Norris, Sir Henry, 255;
    present at the execution of Charterhouse monks, 328;
    a paramour of Anne Boleyn, 416 _sq._, 418, 419;
    execution, 429.

  Northumberland, Earl of (Henry Percy), alleged secret marriage of, with
        Anne Boleyn, 47;
    disgust at Anne's arrogance, 297.

  Nun of Kent;
    disclosures connected with, 195, 265;
    the effect of the "revelations," 247.


  Observants, the General of the, Charles V.'s guardian of the Pope, 52,
        62, 68.

  Orleans, Duke of:
    marriage with Catherine de' Medici, 243.

  Ortiz, Dr., Catherine's special representative at Rome, 159, 165, 176,
        178 _sq._, 181, 189, 194, 199, 259, 261, 351 _sqq._, 361, 367, 373.

  Orvieto, imprisonment of Clement VII. at, 52, 62.

  Oxford, Earl of, 214.


  Paget, Lord:
    his description of Chapuys's character, 112.

  Papal curse, inefficiency of, in modern days, 260.

  Paris, University of:
    decision in favor of the divorce, 142.

  Parliaments, annual, introduced by Henry, 13.

  Parliament summoned after the failure of the Blackfriars court, 110;
    object of the meeting, 120;
    impeachment of Wolsey, 121;
    reform of Church courts, and Clergy Discipline Acts, 125;
    effect of Clement's delays on, 151;
    treatment (session 1531) of the Universities' opinions on the divorce,
          166;
    third session (Jan. 1532): formation of an Opposition against violent
          anti-clerical measures, 182;
    measures passed in restraint of clerical claims, 185;
    the Opposition (Peers and Prelates) appeal to Chapuys for armed
          intervention by the Emperor, 225;
    the Act of Supremacy, 292;
    dissolution, 413;
    a new Parliament speedily summoned after Anne's execution, 453;
    no account left of the debates in this Parliament, 454;
    the new Act of Succession, 455.

  Patriarchate, a new, proposed, with Wolsey as its head, 38.

  Paul III. (Farnese):
    elected Pope as successor to Clement VII., 290;
    favourably disposed towards Henry, 291;
    restrained by Charles from issuing the Brief of Execution, 318;
    acknowledgment (when Cardinal) of Henry's right to a divorce, 333;
    prevents the treaty between Charles and Henry, 337;
    creates Fisher a Cardinal, 338;
    exasperation at the news of the execution of Fisher, 348;
    difficulties of desired retaliation, 349;
    delay in issuing the censures, 351;
    reasons therefor, 352;
    desire that Catherine should apply for the Brief of Execution, 356;
    thinks of declaring Mary Queen in place of her "deposed" father, 358;
    annoyance at the failure of Fitzgerald's rebellion, 360;
    thinks himself a new Hildebrand, 362;
    summary of his Bull against Henry, 363;
    delay in its issue, 367;
    a warm debate in Consistory, 368 _sqq._;
    professes kindly feelings to Henry after Catherine's death, 403;
    reception of the news of Anne's fall, 439;
    overtures for reconciliation, 440 _sq._;
    eager solicitations to Henry to return to the Roman communion, 454.

  Paulet, Sir William, 420.

  Pavia, political results of the defeat of Francis I. at, 25 _sqq._

  Peers, English:
    their petition to Clement to grant Henry's petition, 142.

  "Penny Gleek," 443.

  Percy, Henry (Earl of Northumberland):
    his statement that Anne Boleyn meant to poison the Princess Mary, 253;
    swears that there was never contract of marriage between him and Anne,
          419.

  Petition of the Commons (1529), 115.

  Peto, Cardinal, 60.

  Pilgrimage of Grace, the, 59, 460.

  Pole, Geoffrey (brother of Reginald), 295, 416.

  Pole, Reginald:
    his manifesto accompanying Paul III.'s Bull deposing Henry VIII., 56;
    his statement of Henry's desire to break with Anne Boleyn, 111;
    suggested marriage with Princess Mary, 241, 295.

  Pommeraye, La (French ambassador in London):
    his denunciation of "that devil of a Pope," 181;
    recommendation that Henry should follow Louis XII.'s example, 188, 192.

  Præmunire, 118, 147;
    proclamation for its enforcement, 148;
    embarrassments caused by its revival, 164.

  Prejudice, influence of, in judging historical characters, 2 _sqq._

  Provisors, the Statute of, 122;
    its revival, 149.


  Reformation, English:
    at first political rather than doctrinal, 6;
    its characteristic excellence, 7.

  Reunion of Christendom, Charles V.'s efforts for, 175.

  Richmond, Duke of (_cr._ 1525), natural son of Henry VIII., 22, 395;
    present at the execution of Charterhouse monks, 328;
    educated as a Prince, but his position not recognized by the law, 453;
    his popularity and resemblance to his father, 455;
    Surrey's proposal that the Crown should be settled on him, 455;
    his death, 459.

  Rochford, Lord (Anne Boleyn's brother):
    mission to Paris to announce his sister's marriage, 208;
    present at the execution of Charterhouse monks, 328;
    specially attentive to Chapuys, 404;
    refused the Garter, 415;
    takes part in the tournament (1536), 416;
    arrested, 418;
    charged with incest with his sister, 420;
    his trial, 426 _sq._;
    Chapuys's account of his dying speech, 428;
    the real speech, _ib._

  Rome, sack of, by the Duke of Bourbon, 35.

  Royal Supremacy, meaning of, 159;
    accepted by Convocation, 186.

  Russell, Sir John, sent with money to Clement VII., 28.


  St. Albans, Wolsey abbot of, 89, 116.

  St. John the Baptist and Herod, Bishop Fisher's allusion to, in the
        matter of the divorce, 106.

  Salisbury, Countess of, 23, 241, 461.

  Salviati, Cardinal, 46, 88, 103, 233.

  Sampson, Dean (of the Chapel Royal):
    speech against the Pope's claims over England, 274.

  Sanctuary:
    felonious clerks deprived of the right of, 454.

  Sandys, Lord (Henry's chamberlain), 297.

  Sanga (Clement VII.'s secretary), 27, 80, 96.

  Sens, Cardinal (Chancellor), 46.

  Seymour, Sir Edward, 405.

  Seymour, Jane:
    first association of her name with Henry, 400;
    her marriage, 444;
    great popularity, 445;
    kindness to Mary, 455, 458.

  Sforza, Duke of Milan, death of, 362.

  Shelton Mrs. (Anne Boleyn's aunt), 252, 262, 267, 269 _sq._, 320, 387,
        392.

  Six Articles Bill, the, 7.

  Smalcaldic League, the, 135, 255.

  Smeton, Mark (paramour of Anne Boleyn), 415, 416, 419;
    execution, 429.

  Sorbonne, the:
    suggested reference of the divorce cause to, 129.

  Soria, Lope de (Minister of Charles V. at Genoa), his letter on the
        sack of Rome, 36, 43.

  Spain:
    the Cabinet's discussion of Catherine's position after Cranmer's
          judgment, 221 _sqq._;
    their decision, 223;
    debates on proposed treaty between Charles and Henry, 307, 335.

  Spaniards, the:
    their atrocities in Italy, 29, 35.

  Statute Book, the:
    its historic aspect, 13.

  Stokesley, Bishop (London), 134, 416.

  Succession to the English throne, danger of a disputed, 21, 79, 123;
    various possible claimants if Henry VIII. had no heir, 23.

  Succession, Act of, 264;
    the oath to it enforced, 267;
    debate in Council as to its enforcement on Catherine and Mary, 271
          _sqq._;
    (after Anne's death) the discussion of, 454 _sq._

  Suffolk, Duke of:
    his mission from Henry to France, 94;
    Chapuys's report on his sentiments about the divorce, 114;
    made Vice-President of the Council, 120.

  Supremacy, Act of (explaining in detail the meaning of the Royal
        Supremacy), 292 _sq._;
    enforced, 327 _sqq._

  Sussex, Lord:
    one of a deputation of nobles to Catherine at Moor Park, 176;
    proposes to Parliament (after Anne's execution) that the Duke of
          Richmond should have the succession to the Crown, 455.


  Tarbes, Bishop of (afterwards Cardinal Grammont):
    his mission to England from France, 30;
    the first publicly to question the legitimacy of the Princess Mary,
          31, 81;
    (ambassador to Clement VII.) his statement of Clement's real opinion
          on the divorce, 134;
    suggested by Duke of Norfolk as a judge in the divorce cause, 143;
    caution to Clement as to the consequences of his losing England, 168;
    mission to Rome to demand a General Council, 195;
    a proposal to Clement apparently in Henry's name, 244.

  Talboys, Sir Gilbert:
    married the mother of Henry VIII.'s illegitimate son, 22.

  Throgmorton, Sir George:
    his statements about Henry VIII., Lady Boleyn and her daughters, 59
          _sqq._

  Throgmorton, Michael, 59.

  Toison d'or (French herald), 65.

  Tournon, Cardinal:
    his special mission to Rome to demand a General Council, 195, 231.

  Treasons, the Statute of, 456.

  Tunstal, Bishop (Durham):
    his letter to Henry on the Royal Supremacy, 182;
    speech in favor of the Succession Act, 273 _sq._;
    mission to Catherine on the subject, 275.


  Wallop, Sir John (English representative at Paris), 306, 373, 424.

  Warham, Archbishop (Canterbury), assessor to Wolsey as Legate, 34;
    doubtful as to the divorce, 42;
    afterwards in favour of it, 142;
    his halting opinions 151;
    protest against the Royal Supremacy, 183;
    dying protest against the anti-papal legislation, 187.

  Weston, Sir Francis, paramour of Anne Boleyn, 417 _sqq._, 422 _sq._;
    execution, 429.

  Wilton, the state of the convent at, 71;
    Henry VIII.'s letters on the appointment of its Abbess, 72.

  Wiltshire, Earl of (Sir Thomas Boleyn, Anne Boleyn's father), 111, 134;
    one of the English deputies at the coronation of Charles V., 134;
    withdraws his opposition to his daughter's marriage with the King, 208;
    present at the execution of the Charterhouse monks, 328.

  Winchester, Wolsey bishop of, 89, 116.

  Wolsey, Cardinal:
    his first efforts to promote the divorce of Henry, 25;
    eager to maintain the Papacy, 26;
    his desire of an Anglo-French alliance, 29;
    a pensionary of the Emperor, _ib._;
    brings the question of divorce before his Legatine court, 34;
    his policy after the Sack of Rome, 37;
    the proposal to make Wolsey Archbishop of Rouen and Patriarch, 38;
    refuses the Emperor's offered bribe of the Papacy, 39;
    mission to Paris, 41;
    interview with Bishop Fisher, 42;
    further bribes offered him by Charles, 45;
    signs the French Cardinals' protest against the Pope's captivity, 46;
    distrust at the King's selection of Anne Boleyn, 49;
    at first endeavors to check the divorce, 50;
    sends a draft dispensation for the Pope's signature, 53;
    the wording thereof, 54;
    consultations with Campeggio, 79;
    the secret decretal, 84, 88;
    chances of Wolsey's election to the Papacy, 88;
    his boundless wealth, _ib._;
    letter to Campeggio on Catherine's position, 93;
    in doubt about the progress of his French policy, 94;
    foresight of coming events, 97;
    the Legatine court at Blackfriars, 99;
    delays, 105;
    effect of Bishop Fisher's interposition, 106;
    Campeggio refuses to pass sentence, 107;
    despatch to the Commissioners at Rome, _ib._;
    causes of the animosity that broke out against him, 116;
    the manifold sources of his wealth, _ib._;
    his son, 117;
    Lord Darcy's list of complaints against him, _ib._;
    details of his fall, 120 _sqq._;
    hopes of return to power, 131;
    obliged to resign the sees of Winchester and St. Albans, 132;
    allowed a grant by way of pension, _ib._;
    becomes the friend of Catherine and the secret adviser of Chapuys, 138;
    starts to visit his diocese, 139;
    his death at Leicester Abbey, 140.

  Worcester, Lady, the first accuser of Anne, 415.

  Wriothesley Chronicle, the, 428, 432.

  Wyatt, Sir Henry, 421.

  Wyatt, Sir Thomas (the poet), one of the lovers of Anne Boleyn, 47, 421.


  York, Archbishop (Lee):
    mission, with Tunstal, to Catherine about the Succession Act, 275.

  York, Wolsey archbishop of, 89, 116.

  Yorkshire rebellion, 460.




Transcriber's Notes:

Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.

Superscripted letters are shown in {brackets}.

The following misprints have been corrected:
  "communiated" corrected to "communicated" (page 37)
  "thoughout" corrected to "throughout" (page 39)
  "resource" corrected to "recourse" (page 51)
  "againt" corrected to "against" (page 84)
  "been" corrected to "be" (page 291)
  "as sure" corrected to "assure" (page 302)
  "longed" corrected to "longer" (page 451)
  "nuanimons" corrected to "unanimous" (index)
  "Cramer" corrected to "Cranmer" (index)
  "Winton" corrected to "Wilton" (index)

Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in
spelling and hyphenation usage have been retained.

Punctuation has been corrected without note.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Divorce of Catherine of Aragon, by J.A. Froude