Henry Marries Anne Boleyn.
The king, convinced that the pope was trifling with him, no longer hesitated to follow the course which the interests of his people and his own happiness seemed to point out. He determined that Anne Boleyn should be his wife and Queen of England also. It was now that, according to the second hypothesis, the marriage took place. Cranmer states in a letter written on the 17th of June, 1533, that he did not perform the ceremony, that he did not hear of it until a fortnight after, and that it was celebrated ‘much about Saint Paul’s day last[[264]] (25th of January, 1533). Which date must we accept: this, or the 15th of November, given by Hall, Hollinshed, Burnet, and others? Cranmer’s language is not precise enough to settle the question.
Whatever may have been the date of the marriage—November or January—it became the universal topic of conversation in the beginning of 1533; people did not speak of it publicly, but in private, some attacking and others defending it. If the members of the Romish party circulated ridiculous stories and outrageous calumnies against Anne, the members of the national party replied that the purity of her life, her moderation, her chastity, her mildness, her discretion, her noble and exalted parentage, her pleasing manners, and (they added somewhat later) her fitness to give a successor to the crown of England, made her worthy of the royal favor.[[265]] Men may have gone too far in their reproaches as well as in their eulogies.
This important step on the part of Henry VIII. was accompanied with an explosion of murmurs against Clement VII. ‘The pope,’ he said, ‘wanders from the path of the Redeemer, who was obedient in this world to princes. What! must a prince submit to the arrogance of a human being whom God has put under him? Must a king humble himself before that man above whom he stands by the will of God? No! that would be a perversion of the order God has established.’ This is what Henry represented to Francis through Lord Rochford;[[266]] but the words did not touch the King of France, for the emperor was just then making several concessions to him, and the evangelicals of Paris were annoying him. From that hour the cordial feeling between the two monarchs gradually decreased. England turned her eyes more and more towards the Gospel, and France towards Rome. Just at the time when Anne Boleyn was about to reign in the palaces of Whitehall and Windsor, Catherine de Medicis was entering those of St. Germain and Fontainebleau. The contrast between the two nations became daily more distinct and striking: England was advancing towards liberty, and France towards the dragonnades.
Brief Of Excommunication.
The divorce between Rome and Whitehall soon became manifest. A brief of Clement VII. posted in February on the doors of all the churches in Flanders, in the states of the king’s enemy, and as near to England as possible, attracted a great number of readers.[[267]] ‘What shall we do?’ said the pontiff to Henry. ‘Shall we neglect thy soul’s safety?... We exhort thee, our son, under pain of excommunication, to restore Queen Catherine to the royal honors which are due to her, to cohabit with her, and to cease to associate publicly with Anne; and that within a month from the day on which this brief shall be presented to thee. Otherwise, when the said term shall have elapsed, we pronounce thee and the said Anne to be ipso facto excommunicate, and command all men to shun and avoid your presence.’[[268]] It would appear that this document, demanded by the imperialists, had been posted throughout Flanders without the pope’s knowledge.[[269]]
A copy was immediately forwarded to the king by his agents. He was surprised and agitated, but believed at last that it was forged by his enemies.[[270]] How could he imagine that the pope, just at the very time he was showing the king especial marks of his affection,[[271]] would (even conditionally) have anathematized and isolated him in the midst of his people? Henry sent a copy of the document to Benet, his agent at Rome, and desired him to ascertain carefully whether it did really proceed from the pope or not.
Benet presented the document to Clement as a paper forwarded to him by his friends in Flanders. The latter was ‘ashamed and in great perplexity,’ wrote the envoy.[[272]] He then read it again more attentively, stopped at certain passages, and seemed as if he were choking. Having come to the end, he expressed his surprise, and pretended that the copy differed from the original. ‘There is one mistake in particular which almost chokes the pope every time it is mentioned,’ wrote Benet to Cromwell. This mistake was the including of Queen Anne Boleyn in the censure, without giving her previous warning, which (they said) was contrary to all the commandments of God. Accordingly Dr. Benet received orders to bring up this mistake frequently in his audiences with the pope; and he did not fail to do so. At this moment, in which he was about to lose England, the pope was more uneasy at having committed an error of form with regard to Anne Boleyn than with having struck the monarch of a powerful kingdom with an interdict. There is, besides, no doubt that he dictated the unhappy phrase himself.
Benet and his friends took advantage of the pope’s vexation, and even increased it: they communicated the brief to the dignitaries of the Church in Clement’s household, and the latter acknowledged that the document must be offensive to his Majesty of England, and that ‘the pope was much to blame.’[[273]] Benet transmitted the pontiff’s errata to the king, but it was too late: the blow had taken effect. The indignant Henry was about to proceed ostentatiously to the very acts which Rome threatened with her thunders.
Whilst the pope was hesitating, England firmly pursued her emancipation. Parliament met on the 4th of February, and the boldest language was uttered. ‘The people of England, in accord with their king,’ said eloquent speakers, ‘have the right to decide supremely on all things both temporal and spiritual;[[274]] and certainly the English possess intelligence enough for that. And yet, in spite of the prohibitions issued by so many of our princes, we see bulls arriving every moment from Rome to regulate wills, marriages, divorces—everything, in short. We propose that henceforward these matters be decided solely before the national tribunals.’ The law passed. Appeals, instead of being made to Rome, were to be made in the first instance to the bishop, then to the archbishop, and, if the king was interested in the cause, to the Upper Chamber of the ecclesiastical Convocation.