History of the Reformation in the Sixteenth Century
Chapter 219 : [807] Fatis agimur, fatis oedendum. Erasm. Epp. p. 1032.Wolsey noted this movement of

[807] Fatis agimur, fatis oedendum. Erasm. Epp. p. 1032.

Wolsey noted this movement of his master's, and resolved to make a strenuous effort to reconcile Clement and Henry; his own safety was at stake. He wrote to the pope, to Campeggio, to Da Casale, to all Italy.

He declared that if he was ruined, the popedom would be ruined too, so far at least as England was concerned: "I would obtain the _decretal_ bull with my own blood, if possible,"[808] he added. "a.s.sure the holy father on my life that no mortal eye shall see it." Finally, he ordered the chief-almoner to write to Gardiner: "If Campeggio does not come, _you shall never return_ to England;"[809] an infallible means of stimulating the secretary's zeal.

[808] Ut vel proprio sanguine id vellemus posse a S. D. N. impetrare.

Burnet, Records, ii. p. 19.

[809] Neither should Gardiner ever return. Strype, i. p. 167.

[Sidenote: CLEMENT GRANTS ALL THE BULLS.]

This was the last effort of Henry VIII. Bourbon and the Prince of Orange had not employed more zeal a year before in scaling the walls of Rome. Wolsey's fire had inflamed his agents; they argued, entreated, stormed, and threatened. The alarmed cardinals and theologians, a.s.sembling at the pope's call, discussed the matter, mixing political interests with the affairs of the church.[810] At last they understood what Wolsey now communicated to them. "Henry is the most energetic defender of the faith," they said. "It is only by acceding to his demand that we can preserve the kingdom of England to the popedom. The army of Charles is in full flight, and that of Francis triumphs." The last of these arguments decided the question; the pope suddenly felt a great sympathy for Wolsey and for the English Church; the emperor was beaten; therefore he was wrong. Clement granted everything.

[810] Negotia ecclesiastica politicis rationibus interpolantes. Sand.

p. 27.

First, Campeggio was desired to go to London. The pontiff knew that he might reckon on his intelligence and inflexible adhesion to the interests of the hierarchy; even the cardinal's gout was of use, for it might help to innumerable delays. Next, on the 8th of June, the pope, then at Viterbo, gave a new commission, by which he conferred on Wolsey and Campeggio the power to declare null and void the marriage between Henry and Catherine, with liberty for the king and queen to form new matrimonial ties.[811] A few days later he signed the famous _decretal_ by which he himself annulled the marriage between Henry and Catherine; but instead of intrusting it to Gardiner, he gave it to Campeggio, with orders not to let it go out of his hands. Clement was not sure of the course of events: if Charles should decidedly lose his power, the bull would be published in the face of Christendom; if he should recover it, the bull would be burnt.[812] In fact the flames did actually consume some time afterwards this decree which Clement had wetted with his tears as he put his name to it. Finally, on the 23rd of July, the pope signed a valid _engagement_, by which he declared beforehand that all retractation of these acts should be _null and void_.[813] Campeggio and Gardiner departed. Charles's defeat was as complete at Rome as at Naples; the justice of his cause had vanished with his army.

[811] Ad alia vota commigrandi. Herbert, p. 262.

[812] State Papers, vol. vii. p. 78. Dr. Lingard acknowledges the existence of this bull and the order to burn it.

[813] Si (quod absit) aliquid contra praemissa faciamus, illud pro ca.s.so, irrito, inani et vacuo omnino haberi volumus. (Herbert, p.

250.) If (which, however, let it not happen) we should do anything contrary to this despatch, we wish it to be regarded as useless, invalid, worthless, and altogether void.

[Sidenote: JOY IN ENGLAND.]

Nothing, therefore, was wanting to Henry's desires. He had Campeggio, the commission, the decretal bull of divorce signed by the pope, and the engagement giving an irrevocable value to all these acts. Wolsey was conqueror,--the conqueror of Clement!... He had often wished to mount the restive courser of the popedom and to guide it at his will, but each time the unruly steed had thrown him from the saddle. Now he was firm in his seat, and held the horse in hand. Thanks to Charles's reverses, he was master at Rome. The popedom, whether it was pleased or not, must take the road he had chosen, and before which it had so long recoiled. The king's joy was unbounded, and equalled only by Wolsey's. The cardinal, in the fulness of his heart, wis.h.i.+ng to show his grat.i.tude to the officers of the Roman court, made them presents of carpets, horses, and vessels of gold.[814] All near Henry felt the effects of his good humour. Anne smiled; the court indulged in amus.e.m.e.nts; the _great affair_ was about to be accomplished; the New Testament to be delivered to the flames. The union between England and the popedom appeared confirmed for ever, and the victory which Rome seemed about to gain in the British isles might secure her triumph in the west. Vain omens! far different were the events in the womb of the future.

[814] Num illi, aulaea, vas aureum aut equi maxime probentur. Burnet, Records, i. p. xv.

BOOK XX.

THE TWO DIVORCES.

CHAPTER I.

Progress of the Reformation--The two Divorces--Entreaties to Anne Boleyn--The Letters in the Vatican--Henry to Anne--Henry's Second Letter--Third--Fourth--Wolsey's Alarm--His fruitless Proceedings--He turns--The Sweating Sickness--Henry's Fears--New Letters to Anne--Anne falls sick; her Peace--Henry writes to her--Wolsey's Terror--Campeggio does not arrive--All dissemble at Court.

While England seemed binding herself to the court of Rome, the general course of the church and of the world gave stronger presage every day of the approaching emanc.i.p.ation of Christendom. The respect which for so many centuries had hedged in the Roman Pontiff was everywhere shaken; the Reform, already firmly established in several states of Germany and Switzerland, was extending in France, the Low Countries, and Hungary, and beginning in Sweden, Denmark, and Scotland. The South of Europe appeared indeed submissive to the Romish church; but Spain, at heart, cared little for the pontifical infallibility; and even Italy began to inquire whether the papal dominion was not an obstacle to her prosperity. England, notwithstanding appearances, was also going to throw off the yoke of the bishops of the Tiber, and many faithful voices might already be heard demanding that the word of G.o.d should be acknowledged the supreme authority in the church.

[Sidenote: TWO SORTS OF TEACHING.]

The conquest of Christian Britain by the papacy occupied all the seventh century, as we have seen. The sixteenth was the counterpart of the seventh. The struggle which England then had to sustain, in order to free herself from the power that had enslaved her during nine hundred years, was full of sudden changes; like those of the times of Augustine and Oswy. This struggle indeed took place in each of the countries where the church was reformed; but nowhere can it be traced in all its diverse phases so distinctly as in Great Britain. The positive work of the Reformation--that which consisted in recovering the truth and life so long lost--was nearly the same everywhere; but as regards the negative work--the struggle with the popedom--we might almost say that other nations committed to England the task by which they were all to profit. An unenlightened piety may perhaps look upon the relations of the court of London with the court of Rome, at the period of the Reformation, as void of interest to the faith; but history will not think the same. It has been too often forgotten that the main point in this contest was not the divorce (which was only the occasion), but the contest itself and its important consequences. The divorce of Henry Tudor and Catherine of Aragon is a secondary event; but the divorce of England and the popedom is a primary event, one of the great evolutions of history, a creative act (so to speak) which still exercises a normal influence over the destinies of mankind. And accordingly everything connected with it is full of instruction for us. Already a great number of pious men had attached themselves to the authority of G.o.d; but the king, and with him that part of the nation, strangers to the evangelical faith, clung to Rome, which Henry had so valiantly defended. The word of G.o.d had spiritually separated England from the papacy; the _great matter_ separated it materially. There is a close relations.h.i.+p between these two divorces, which gives extreme importance to the process between Henry and Catherine. When a great revolution is to be effected in the bosom of a people (we have the Reformation particularly in view), G.o.d instructs the minority by the Holy Scriptures, and the majority by the dispensations of the divine government. Facts undertake to push forward those whom the more spiritual voice of the word leaves behind. England, profiting by this great teaching of facts, has thought it her duty ever since to avoid all contact with a power that had deceived her; she has thought that popery could not have the dominion over a people without infringing on its vitality, and that it was only by emanc.i.p.ating themselves from this priestly dictators.h.i.+p that modern nations could advance safely in the paths of liberty, order, and greatness.

[Sidenote: ANNE'S HESITATION.]

For more than a year, as Henry's complaints testify, Anne continued deaf to his homage. The despairing king saw that he must set other springs to work, and taking Lord Rochford aside, he unfolded his plans to him. The ambitious father promised to do all in his power to influence his daughter. "The divorce is a settled thing," he said to her; "you have no control over it. The only question is, whether it shall be you or another who shall give an heir to the crown. Bear in mind that terrible revolutions threaten England, if the king has no son." Thus did every thing combine to weaken Anne's resolution. The voice of her father, the interests of her country, the king's love, and doubtless some secret ambition, influenced her to grasp the proffered sceptre. These thoughts haunted her in society, in solitude, and even in her dreams. At one time she imagined herself on the throne, distributing to the people her charities and the word of G.o.d; at another, in some obscure exile, leading a useless life, in tears and ignominy. When, in the sports of her imagination, the crown of England appeared all glittering before her, she at first rejected it; but afterwards that regal ornament seemed so beautiful, and the power it conferred so enviable, that she repelled it less energetically.

Anne still refused, however, to give the so ardently solicited a.s.sent.

Henry, vexed by her hesitation, wrote to her frequently, and almost always in French. As the court of Rome makes use of these letters, which are kept in the Vatican, to abuse the Reformation, we think it our duty to quote them. The theft committed by a cardinal has preserved them for us; and we shall see that, far from supporting the calumnies that have been spread abroad, they tend, on the contrary, to refute them. We are far from approving their contents as a whole; but we cannot deny to the young lady, to whom they are addressed, the possession of n.o.ble and generous sentiments.

Henry, unable to support the anguish caused by Anne's refusal, wrote to her, as it is generally supposed, in May 1528:[815]

"By revolving in my mind the contents of your last letters, I have put myself into great agony, not knowing how to interpret them, whether to my disadvantage, as I understand some pa.s.sages, or not, as I conclude from others. I beseech you earnestly to let me know your real mind as to the love between us two. It is needful for me to obtain this answer of you, having been for a whole year wounded with the dart of love, and not yet a.s.sured whether I shall succeed in finding a place in your heart and affection. This uncertainty has hindered me of late from declaring you my mistress, lest it should prove that you only entertain for me an ordinary regard. But if you please to do the duty of a true and loyal mistress, I promise you that not only the name shall be given to you, but also that I will take you for my mistress, casting off all others that are in compet.i.tion with you, out of my thoughts and affection, and serving you only. I beg you to give an entire answer to this my rude letter, that I may know on what and how far I may depend. But if it does not please you to answer me in writing, let me know some place where I may have it by word of mouth, and I will go thither with all my heart. No more for fear of tiring you. Written by the hand of him who would willingly remain yours,

"H. REX."

[815] Vatican Letters. Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 114. The date in the text is that a.s.signed by the editor; we are inclined to place it somewhat earlier.

[Sidenote: HENRY'S SECOND LETTER.]

Such were the affectionate, and we may add (if we think of the time and the man) the respectful terms employed by Henry in writing to Anne Boleyn. The latter, without making any promises, betrayed some little affection for the king, and added to her reply an emblematical jewel, representing "a solitary damsel in a boat tossed by the tempest,"

wis.h.i.+ng thus to make the prince understand the dangers to which his love exposed her. Henry was ravished and immediately replied:--

"For a present so valuable, that nothing could be more (considering the whole of it,) I return you my most hearty thanks, not only on account of the costly diamond, and the s.h.i.+p in which the solitary damsel is tossed about, but chiefly for the fine interpretation, and the too humble submission which your goodness hath made to me. Your favour I will always seek to preserve, and this is my firm intention and hope, according to the matter, _aut illic aut nullibi_.

"The demonstrations of your affections are such, the fine thoughts of your letter so cordially expressed, that they oblige me for ever to honour, love, and serve you sincerely.

I beseech you to continue in the same firm and constant purpose, and a.s.suring you that, on my part, I will not only make you a suitable return, but outdo you, so great is the loyalty of the heart that desires to please you. I desire, also, that if, at any time before this, I have in any way offended you, that you would give me the same absolution that you ask, a.s.suring you, that hereafter my heart shall be dedicated to you alone. I wish my person were so too. G.o.d can do it, if he pleases, _to whom I pray once a-day_ for that end, hoping that at length _my prayers will be heard_. I wish the time may be short, but I shall think it long till we see one another. Written by the hand of that secretary, who in heart, body, and will, is

"Your loyal and most faithful Servant,

"H. T. REX."[816]

[816] Pamphleteer, No. 43, p. 115. After the signature comes the following device:

_Nulle autre que [Ill.u.s.tration: initials AB inside heart shape] ne cherche H. T._

[Sidenote: HENRY'S THIRD AND FOURTH LETTERS.]

Henry was a pa.s.sionate lover, and history is not called upon to vindicate that cruel prince; but in the preceding letter we cannot discover the language of a seducer. It is impossible to imagine the king praying to G.o.d _once a-day_, for anything but a lawful union.

These daily prayers seem to present the matter in a different light from that which Romanist writers have imagined.

Henry thought himself more advanced than he really was. Anne then shrank back; embarra.s.sed by the position she held at court, she begged for one less elevated. The king submitted, although very vexed at first:

"Nevertheless that it belongeth not to a gentleman," he wrote to her, "to put his _mistress_ in the situation of a _servant_, yet, by following your wishes, I would willingly concede it, if by that means you are less uncomfortable in the place you shall choose than in that where you have been placed by me. I thank you most cordially that you are pleased still to bear me in your remembrance.