We can hardly imagine the atrocious Henry VIII. ever to have been worthy of such commendation. After being married for seventeen years to his devoted Catharine, this prince of hypocrites is all at once troubled with most grievous qualms of conscience. For seven years he had been flirting with the pretty Anne Boleyn; even from the momentous time when he had noticed her dancing at the festivals attending the celebrated occasion of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. But not until 1527 did this conscience-troubled king declare publicly his very serious doubts as to the validity of his marriage with Catharine, who had been previously married to his elder brother Arthur. His pretended scruples were now confided to Cardinal Wolsey, who advised the king to sue for a divorce. This welcome advice the royal hypocrite most sanctimoniously declared to be most bitter for him to follow, but nevertheless, for his conscience’ sake, he was ready to make this enormous sacrifice.
The famous divorce court at Blackfriars was not held until June 18, 1529. But the conscience-stricken, atrocious dissembler meanwhile used his utmost influence in church and state to force priests and people to confirm his royal pretended scruples; and earls, bishops, cardinals, and popes, were called upon to confirm and applaud his most holy zeal, in thus sacrificing his supposed heart’s ease for the ease of his terribly burdened conscience. Meanwhile, the poor, neglected, faithful wife was openly and shamelessly discarded for the smiles of the new beauty, who had ensnared the fancy of this most atrocious of religious humbugs.
To allay somewhat the fretful anxieties consequent upon the long delay required to bring right-minded men to second his infamous designs, the royal author found solace in his literary occupations, hurling anathemas against the undaunted Luther, ostensibly in defence of that Church whose Pope he wished to influence in favor of his own guilty schemes; but soon this apparently zealous defender of the Romish Church was uncloaked, and he defied even the Pope himself, who dared to denounce his infamous divorce.
We cannot give in detail these stirring but disgraceful scenes. Poor Catharine, a stranger in a strange land, having lost both father and mother, had none to defend her against the calumnies which her inhuman husband sought to fasten upon her, but which her blameless life rendered utterly harmless.
King Henry VIII. had taken very good care to make very specious excuses for the divorce. As six children had been born and none had lived beyond infancy, except the Princess Mary, he declared that he found proof of the wrath of God in these bereavements, because he had married his brother’s widow. And this prince of dissemblers declared in a great meeting of his nobles, councillors, and judges, whom he had assembled in the great chamber of his palace at Bridewell, that, “As touching the queen, if it be adjudged by the law of God that she is my lawful wife, there was never anything more acceptable to me in my life, both for the discharge of my conscience and also for her sake; for I assure you all that, apart from her noble parentage, she is a woman of great virtue, gentleness, and humility. Of all good qualities appertaining to nobility, she is without comparison; and if I were to marry again, presuming the marriage to be good, I would choose her before all other women.” And yet this same ostentatious pattern of perfection and hypocritical religious cant afterwards beheaded the illustrious Sir Thomas More, because he would not sanction the infamous repudiation of the faithful Catharine. And this same pretended Defender of the Church, even though the Pope was hurling from the Vatican his spiritual thunders of excommunication for the sin of renouncing the devoted and blameless Queen Catharine, defiantly married Anne Boleyn, even before the divorce had been fully consummated.
In 1529 Queen Catharine was summoned into court to meet her public sentence. When the crier called, “Henry, king of England, come into court,” he answered from his royal seat of state, in loud tones, “Here,” and thereupon proceeded to make known his many troubles regarding his tender conscience and religious scruples, which so sore distressed his royal mind; ending in a panegyric upon the many virtues of his beloved wife, Catharine, from whom none other cause than his afflicted conscience would ever have forced him to consent to part.
After this arch-traitor to all domestic faithfulness had thus relieved his burdened heart, the crier summoned, “Catharine, queen of England.” Taking no notice of the surrounding legates, the sorrowful queen rose with graceful dignity, and, followed by her ladies, she went round about the court, even to where the king sat, and kneeling at his feet she thus pathetically addressed him, with quaint foreign accent and persuasive voice: “Sir, I beseech you, for the love of God, let me have some justice. Take some pity on me, a poor stranger in your dominions; I have no counsellor in this land, and, as you are the head of justice in your realm, I flee to you. Alas! I take God to witness that for these twenty years I have been to you a true, humble, and obedient wife. And if our children have died, it has not been for the want of a mother’s love or care. The king, your father, was accounted a second Solomon for wisdom, and my father, Ferdinand, was deemed one of the wisest kings of Spain; and they had counsellors as wise as those of these days, and they all, verily, thought our marriage good and lawful. Therefore I marvel greatly at the inventions now brought against me. If you have found any dishonor in my conduct, then am I content to depart; but if none there be, then I beseech you thus humbly to let me remain in my proper state.”
The queen then rose up in tears, and making a low obeisance to the king, she walked out of court; nor would she return, even though the crier again called her name. Nor would she ever more attend these evil councils, but waited in patient silence the coming of her dread doom. Nor did she display any enmity to the boastful Anne Boleyn, who did most indecently declare her growing power over the fickle fancies of the cruel king. Save only on one occasion, did Queen Catharine give to her intimation that she was aware of her ambitious views. The queen was once playing cards with Anne Boleyn, when she thus addressed her: “My lady Anne, you have the good hap ever to stop at a king; but you are like others, you will have all or none.”
At length, as Queen Catharine would not again appear in court, although several times summoned by the loud voice of the crier, King Henry, in his rage, sent Cardinal Wolsey and others to the queen, to have a private interview with her. Catharine was engaged with her ladies in needlework at the time, to while away her tedious hours, for the cruel king had removed the Princess Mary from her mother, nor would any tears avail the lonely, neglected wife, though she wrote most tender letters to the king begging him to let her behold her child. As the prelates entered the apartment where Queen Catharine and her ladies were occupied with their embroidery, the queen rose to meet them, having a skein of white silk around her neck, and apologizing for the manner of their unceremonious reception. “You see,” said Catharine, pointing to the skein of silk, “our humble employment with my maids; and yet, save these, I have no other counsellors in England, and those in Spain on whom I could rely are far away.”
“If it please your Grace,” replied Wolsey, “we would speak with you alone.”