Chapter IV

ANNE BOLEYN’S FATHER BEFORE THE EMPEROR AND THE POPE.
(WINTER OF 1530.)

Before such glorious hopes could be realized, it was necessary to emancipate Great Britain from the yoke of Romish supremacy. This was the end to which all generous monks aspired; but would the king assist them?

[Sidenote: Henry’s Motives.]

Henry VIII. united strength of body with strength of will; both were marked on his manly form. Lively, active, eager, vehement, impatient, and voluptuous,—whatever he was, he was with his whole soul. He was at first all heart for the Church of Rome; he went barefoot on pilgrimages, wrote against Luther, and flattered the pope. But before long he grew tired of Rome, without desiring the Reformation. Profoundly selfish, he cared for himself alone. If the papal domination offended him, evangelical liberty annoyed him. He meant to remain master in his own house,—the only master, and master of all. Even without the divorce, Henry would possibly have separated from Rome. Rather than endure any contradiction, this singular man put to death friends and enemies, bishops and missionaries, ministers of state, and favorites—even his wives. Such was the prince whom the Reformation found King of England.

History would be unjust, however, were it to maintain that passion alone urged him to action. The question of the succession to the throne had for a century filled the country with confusion and blood. This Henry could not forget. Would the struggles of the two Roses be renewed after his death, occasioning, perhaps, the destruction of an ancient monarchy? If Mary, a princess of delicate health, should die, Scotland, France, the party of the White Rose, the Duke of Suffolk, whose wife was Henry’s sister, might drag the kingdom into endless wars. And even if Mary’s days were prolonged, her title to the crown might be disputed, no female sovereign having as yet sat upon the throne. Another train of ideas also occupied the king’s mind. He inquired sincerely whether his marriage with the widow of his brother was lawful. Even before its consummation, he had felt doubts about it. But even his defenders, if there are any, must acknowledge that one circumstance contributed at this time to give unusual force to these scruples. Passion impelled the king to break a holy bond; he loved another woman.

Catholic writers imagine that this guilty motive was the only one. It is a mistake, for the two former indisputably occupied Henry’s mind. As for parliament and people, the king’s love for Anne Boleyn affected them very little. It was the reason of state which made them regard the divorce as just and necessary.[24]

A congress was at that time sitting at Bologna with great pomp.[25] On the 5th of November, Charles V. having arrived from Spain, had entered the city, attended by a magnificent suite, and followed by 20,000 soldiers. He was covered with gold, and shone with grace and majesty. The pope waited for him in front of the church of San Petronio, seated on a throne, and wearing the triple crown. The emperor, master of Italy, which his soldiers had reduced to the last desolation,[26] fell prostrate before the pontiff, but lately his prisoner. The union of these two monarchs, both enemies of Henry VIII., seemed destined to ruin the King of England and thwart his great affair.

[Sidenote: Henry’s Embassy To Rome.]

And yet, not long before, an ambassador from Charles V. had been received at Whitehall: it was Master Eustace Chappuis, who had already discharged a mission to Geneva.[27] He came to solicit aid against the Turks. Henry caught at the chance: he imagined the moment to be favorable, and that he ought to despatch an embassy to the head of the empire and the head of the Church. He sent for the Earl of Wiltshire, Anne Boleyn’s father; Edward Lee, afterwards Archbishop of York; Stokesley, afterwards Bishop of London, and some others. He told them that the emperor desired his alliance, and commissioned them to proceed to Italy, and explain to Charles V. the serious motives that induced him to separate from Catherine. “If he persists in his opposition to the divorce,” continued Henry, “threaten him, but in covert terms. If the threats prove useless, tell him plainly that, in accord with my friends, I will do all I can to restore peace to my troubled conscience.” He added with more calmness,—“I am resolved to fear God rather than man, and to place full reliance on comfort from the Saviour.”[28] Was Henry sincere when he spoke thus? No one can doubt of his sensuality, his scholastic catholicism, and his cruel violence:—must we also believe in his hypocrisy? He was no doubt under a delusion, and deceived himself on the state of his soul.

An important member was added to the deputation. One day when the king was occupied with this affair, Thomas Cranmer appeared at the door of his closet with a manuscript in his hand. Cranmer had a fine understanding, a warm heart, a character perhaps too weak, but extensive learning. Captivated by the Holy Scriptures, he desired to seek for truth nowhere else. He had suggested a new point of view to Henry VIII. “The essential thing,” he said, “is to know what the Word of God teaches on the matter in question.” “Show me that,” exclaimed the king. Cranmer brought him his treatise, in which he proved that the Word of God is above all human jurisdiction, and that it forbids marriage with a brother’s widow. Henry took the work in his hand, read it again and again, and praised its excellence. A bright idea occurred to him. “Are you strong enough to maintain before the Bishop of Rome the propositions laid down in this treatise?” said the king. Cranmer was timid, but convinced and devoted. “Yes,” he made answer, “with God’s grace, and if your Majesty commands it.” “Marry, then,” exclaimed Henry with delight, “I will send you.”[29] Cranmer departed with the others in January, 1530.

[Sidenote: Clement’s Alarm.]

While Henry’s ambassadors were journeying slowly, Charles V., more exasperated than ever against the divorce, endeavored to gain the pope. Clement VII., who was a clever man, and possessed a certain kindly humor, but was at heart cunning, false, and cowardly, amused the puissant emperor with words. When he learned that the King of England was sending an embassy to him, he gave way to the keenest sorrow. What was he to do? which way could he turn? To irritate the emperor was dangerous; to separate England from Rome would be to endure a great loss. Caught between Charles V. and Henry VIII., he groaned aloud; he paced up and down his chamber gesticulating; then suddenly stopping, sank into a chair and burst into tears. Nothing succeeded with him: it was, he thought, as if he had been bewitched. What need was there for the King of England to send him an embassy? Had not Clement told Henry through the Bishop of Tarbes: “I am content the marriage should take place, provided it be without my authorization.”[30] It was of no use: the pope asked him to do without the papacy, and the king would only act with it. He was more popish than the pope.

To add to his misfortunes, Charles began to press the pontiff more seriously, and yielding to his importunities, Clement drew up a brief on the 7th of March, in which he commanded Henry “to receive Catherine with love, and to treat her in all things with the affection of a husband.”[31] But the brief was scarcely written when the arrival of the English embassy was announced. The pope in alarm immediately put the document back into his portfolio, promising himself that it would be long before he published it.

As soon as the English envoys had taken up their quarters at Bologna, the ambassadors of France called to pay their respects. De Gramont, Bishop of Tarbes, was overflowing with politeness, especially to the Earl of Wiltshire. “I have shown much honor to M. de Rochford,” he wrote to his master on the 28th of March. “I went out to meet him. I have visited him often at his lodging. I have fêted him, and offered him my solicitations and services, telling him that such were your orders.”[32] Not thus did Clement VII. act: the arrival of the Earl of Wiltshire and his colleagues was a cause of alarm to him. Yet he must make up his mind to receive them: he appointed the day and the hour for the audience.

Henry VIII. desired that his representatives should appear with great pomp, and accordingly the ambassador and his colleagues went to great expense with that intent.[33] Wiltshire entered first into the audience-hall; being father of Anne Boleyn, he had been appointed by the king as the man in all England most interested in the success of his plans. But Henry had calculated badly: the personal interest which the earl felt in the divorce made him odious both to Charles and Clement. The pope, wearing his pontifical robes, was seated on the throne surrounded by his cardinals. The ambassadors approached, made the customary salutations, and stood before him. The pontiff, wishing to show his kindly feelings towards the envoys of the “_Defender of the Faith_,” put out his slipper according to custom, presenting it graciously to the kisses of those proud Englishmen. The revolt was about to begin. The earl, remaining motionless, refused to kiss his holiness’s slipper. But that was not all; a fine spaniel, with long silky hair, which Wiltshire had brought from England, had followed him to the episcopal palace. When the bishop of Rome put out his foot, the dog did what other dogs would have done under similar circumstances: he flew at the foot, and caught the pope by the great toe.[34] Clement hastily drew it back. The sublime borders on the ridiculous: the ambassadors, bursting with laughter, raised their arms and hid their faces behind their long rich sleeves. “That dog was a _protestant_,” said a reverend father. “Whatever he was,” said an Englishman, “he taught us that a pope’s foot was more meet to be bitten by dogs than kissed by Christian men.” The pope, recovering from his emotion, prepared to listen, and the count, regaining his seriousness, explained to the pontiff that as Holy Scripture forbade a man to marry his brother’s wife, Henry VIII. required him to annul as unlawful his union with Catherine of Aragon. As Clement did not seem convinced, the ambassador skilfully insinuated that the king might possibly declare himself independent of Rome, and place the British church under the direction of a patriarch. “The example,” added the ambassador, “will not fail to be imitated by other kingdoms of Christendom.”[35]

The agitated pope promised not to remove the suit to Rome, provided the king would give up the idea of reforming England. Then, putting on a most gracious air, he proposed to introduce the ambassador to Charles V. This was giving Wiltshire the chance of receiving a harsh rebuff. The earl saw it; but his duty obliging him to confer with the emperor, he accepted the offer.

The father of Anne Boleyn proceeded to an audience with the nephew of Catherine of Aragon. Representatives of two women whose rival causes agitated Europe, these two men could not meet without a collision. True, the earl flattered himself that as it was Charles’s interest to detach Henry from Francis I., that phlegmatic and politic prince would certainly not sacrifice the gravest interests of his reign for a matter of sentiment; but he was deceived. The emperor received him with a calm and reserved air, but unaccompanied by any kindly demonstration. The ambassador skilfully began with speaking of the Turkish war; then ingeniously passing to the condition of the kingdom of England, he pointed out the reasons of state which rendered the divorce necessary. Here Charles stopped him short: “Sir Count, you are not to be trusted in this matter; you are a party to it; let your colleagues speak.” The earl replied with respectful coldness: “Sire, I do not speak here as a father, but as my master’s servant, and I am commissioned to inform you that his conscience condemns a union contrary to the law of God.”[36] He then offered Charles the immediate restitution of Catherine’s dowry. The emperor coldly replied that he would support his aunt in her rights, and then abruptly turning his back on the ambassador, refused to hear him any longer.[37]

Thus did Charles, who had been all his life a crafty politician, place in this matter the cause of justice above the interests of his ambition. Perhaps he might lose an important ally; it mattered not; before everything he would protect a woman unworthily treated. On this occasion we feel more sympathy for Charles than for Henry. The indignant emperor hastily quitted Bologna, on the 22d or 24th of February.

The earl hastened to his friend M. de Gramont, and, relating how he had been treated, proposed that the kings of France and England should unite in the closest bonds. He added, that Henry could not accept Clement as his judge, since he had himself declared that he was ignorant of the law of God.[38] “England,” he said, “will be quiet for three or four months. Sitting in the ballroom, she will watch the dancers, and will form her resolution according as they dance well or ill.”[39] A rule of policy that has often been followed.

[Sidenote: Gramont’s Policy.]

Gramont was prepared to make common cause with Henry against the emperor; but, like his master, he could not make his mind to do without the pope. He strove to induce Clement to join the two kings and abandon Charles; or else—he insinuated in his turn—England would separate from the Romish Church. This was to incur the risk of losing Western Europe, and accordingly the pope answered with much concern: “I will do what you ask.” There was, however, a reserve; namely, that the steps taken overtly by the pope would absolutely decide nothing.

Clement once more received the ambassador of Henry VIII. The earl carried with him the book wherein Cranmer proved that the pope cannot dispense any one from obeying the law of God, and presented it to the pope. The latter took it and glanced over it, his looks showing that a prison could not have been more disagreeable to him than this impertinent volume.[40] The Earl of Wiltshire soon discovered that there was nothing for him to do in Italy. Charles V., usually so reserved, had made the bitterest remarks before his departure. His chancellor, with an air of triumph, enumerated to the English ambassador all the divines of Italy and France who were opposed to the king’s wishes. The pope seemed to be a puppet which the emperor moved as he liked, and the cardinals had but one idea,—that of exalting the Romish power. Wearied and disgusted, the earl departed for France and England with the greater portion of his colleagues.

Cranmer was left behind. Having been sent to show Clement that Holy Scripture is above all Roman pontiffs, and speaks in a language quite opposed to that of the popes, he had asked more than once for an audience at which to discharge his mission. The wily pontiff had replied that he would hear him at Rome, believing he was thus putting him off until the Greek calends. But Clement was deceived; the English doctor, determining to do his duty, refused to depart for London with the rest of the embassy, and repaired to the metropolis of Catholicism.

Footnote 24:

“All indifferent and discreet persons judged that it was right and
necessary.”—Hall, _Chronicles of England_, p. 784.

Footnote 25:

“Congressus iste magna cum pompa fiet.”—_State Papers_, vii. p. 209.
We must not confound this congress with the one held later in this
city. See antea, vol. ii. book ii. chap. xxv. xxvi. xxix.

Footnote 26:

Letter from Sir H. Carew to Henry VIII.: _State Papers_, vii. 225.

Footnote 27:

Antea, vol. i. ch. ix.

Footnote 28:

Instruction to Wiltshire: _State Papers_, vii. p. 230.

Footnote 29:

Foxe, _Acts_, viii. p. 9.

Footnote 30:

Le Grand, _Preuves_, p. 400.

Footnote 31:

“Reginam complectendo, affectione maritali tractet in omnibus.”—Le
Grand, _Preuves_, p. 451.

Footnote 32:

Ibid. p. 399.

Footnote 33:

“Esso Conte habi commissione far una grossa spesa.”—_Lettre de Joachim
de Vaux_, ibid. p. 409.

Footnote 34:

“The spaniel took fast with his mouth the great toe of the
pope.”—Foxe, _Acts_, viii. p. 9.

Footnote 35:

“Che l’altri regni questo imitando.”—Le Grand, _Preuves du Divorce_,
p. 419.

Footnote 36:

Le Grand, _Preuves_, pp. 401, 454.

Footnote 37:

Le Grand, _Preuves_, pp. 401, 454.

Footnote 38:

“He declared himself ignorant of that law.”—_State Papers_, xii. p.
230.

Footnote 39:

Le Grand, _Preuves_, pp. 401, 455.

Footnote 40:

‘A book as welcome to his Holiness as a prison.’—Fuller, _Church
History_, p. 182.