On the 9th of March, the doctors, professors, and masters having met after vespers in the priory hall, the vice-chancellor said: ‘It has appeared to us as most certain, most in accord with Holy Scripture, and most conformable to the opinions of commentators, that it is contrary to divine and natural law for a man to marry the widow of his brother dying childless.’[[48]] Thus the Scriptures were really, if not explicitly, declared by the university of Cambridge to be the supreme and only rule of Christians, and the contrary decisions of Rome were held to be not binding. The Word of God was avenged of the long contempt it had endured, and, after having been put below the pope’s word, was now restored to its lawful place. In this matter Cambridge was right.
The King’s Letter To Oxford.
It was necessary to try Oxford next. Here the opposition was stronger, and the popish party looked forward to a victory. Longland, Bishop of Lincoln and chancellor of the university, was commissioned by Henry to undertake the matter; Doctor Bell, and afterwards Edward Fox, the chief almoner, being joined with him. The king, uneasy at the results of the negotiation, and wishing for a favorable decision at any cost, gave Longland a letter for the university, through every word of which an undisguised despotism was visible. ‘We will and command you,’ he said, ‘that ye, not leaning to wilful and sinister opinions of your own several minds, considering that we be your sovereign liege lord, and totally giving your affections to the true overtures of divine learning in this behalf, do show and declare your true and just learning in the said cause.... And we, for your so doing, shall be to you and to our university there so good and gracious a lord for the same, as ye shall perceive it well done in your well fortune to come. And in case you do not uprightly handle yourselves herein, we shall so quickly and sharply look to your unnatural misdemeanor herein, that it shall not be to your quietness and ease hereafter.... Accommodate yourselves to the mere truth; assuring you that those who do shall be esteemed and set forth, and the contrary neglected and little set by.... We doubt not that your resolution shall be our high contentation and pleasure.’
This royal missive caused a great commotion in the university. Some slavishly bent their heads, for the king spoke rod in hand. Others declared themselves convinced by the political reasons, and said that Henry must have an heir whose right to the throne could not be disputed. And, lastly, some were convinced that Holy Scripture was favorable to the royal cause. All men of age and learning, as well as all who had either capacity or ambition, declared in favor of the divorce. Nevertheless a formidable opposition soon showed itself.
The younger members of the Senate were enthusiastic for Catherine, the Church, and the pope. Their theological education was imperfect; they could not go to the bottom of the question, but they judged by the heart. To see a Catholic lady oppressed, to see Rome despised, inflamed their anger; and, if the elder members maintained that their view was the more reasonable, the younger ones believed theirs to be the more noble. Unhappily, when the choice lies between the useful and the generous, the useful commonly triumphs. Still, the young doctors were not prepared to yield. They said—and they were not wrong—that religion and morality ought not to be sacrificed to reasons of state, or to the passions of princes. And, seeing the spectre of Reform hidden behind that of the divorce, they regarded themselves as called upon to save the Church. ‘Alas!’ said the royal delegates, the Bishop of Lincoln and Dr. Bell, ‘alas! we are in continual perplexity, and we cannot foresee with any certainty what will be the issue of this business.’[[49]]
They agreed with the heads of houses that, in order to prepare the university, three public disputations should be solemnly held in the divinity schools. By this means they hoped to gain time. ‘Such disputations,’ they said, ‘are a very honorable means of amusing the multitude until we are sure of the consent of the majority.’[[50]] The discussions took place, and the younger masters, arranging each day what was to be done or said, gave utterance to all the warmth of their feelings.
When the news of these animated discussions reached Henry, his displeasure broke out, and those immediately around him fanned his indignation. ‘A great part of the youth of our university,’ said the king, ‘with contentious and factious manners, daily combine together.’... The courtiers, instead of moderating, excited his anger. Every day, they told him, these young men, regardless of their duty towards their sovereign, and not conforming to the opinions of the most virtuous and learned men of the university, meet together to deliberate and oppose his majesty’s views. ‘Hath it ever been seen,’ exclaimed the king, ‘that such a number of right small learning should stay their seniors in so weighty a cause?’[[51]] Henry, in exasperation, wrote to the heads of the houses: ‘Non est bonum irritare crabrones.’ It is not good to stir a hornet’s nest. This threat excited the younger party still more: if the term ‘hornet’ amused some, it irritated others. In hot weather, the hornet (the king) chases the weaker insects; but the noise he makes in flying forewarns them, and the little ones escape him. Henry could not hide his vexation; he feared lest the little flies should prove stronger than the big hornet. He was uneasy in his castle of Windsor; and the insolent opposition of Oxford pursued him wherever he turned his steps—on the terrace, in the wide park, and even in the royal chapel. ‘What!’ he exclaimed, ‘shall this university dare show itself more unkind and wilful than all other universities, abroad or at home?’[[52]] Cambridge had recognized the king’s right, and Oxford refused.
Wishing to end the matter, Henry summoned the High-Almoner Fox to Windsor, and ordered him to repeat at Oxford the victory he had gained at Cambridge. He then dictated to his secretary a letter to the recalcitrants: ‘We cannot a little marvel that you, neither having respect to our estate,—being your prince and sovereign lord,—nor yet remembering such benefits as we have always showed unto you, have hitherto refused the accomplishment of our desire. Permit no longer the private suffrages of light and wilful heads to prevail over the learned. By your diligence redeem the errors and delays past.
‘Given under our signet, at our castle of Windsor.’[[53]]
Fox was entrusted with this letter.