Anger Of Anne Boleyn And The Duke Of Norfolk
The momentous year of 1529 wore out. Parliament rose before Christmas;
Peers and Commons dispersed to their homes; and the chief parties in the
drama were still undetermined what next to do. The Duke of Norfolk was
afraid of Wolsey's return to power. It was less impossible than it seemed.
A parliamentary impeachment, though let fall, ought to have been fatal;
but none knew better than Wolsey by how transitory a link the parties who
br />
had combined for his ruin were really held together. More and Darcy had
little sympathy with the advanced Reformers whose eyes were fixed on
Germany. They agreed in cutting down the temporal encroachments of the
clergy; they agreed in nothing besides. The King had treated Wolsey with
exceptional forbearance. He had left him the Archbishopric of York, with
an income equal in modern money to eight or ten thousand pounds a year,
and had made him large presents besides of money, furniture, and jewels.
Finding himself so leniently dealt with, the Cardinal recovered heart, and
believed evidently that his day was not over. In a letter to Gardiner,
written in January, 1530, he complained as a hardship of having been made
to surrender Winchester and St. Albans. He had not "deserved to lose
them," he said, "and had not expected to lose them on his submission. His
long services deserved at least a pension." The King agreed, or
seemed to agree; for a further grant of 3,000 crowns was allowed him,
charged on the See of Winchester. Anne Boleyn was furious. The Duke of
Norfolk swore that "sooner than suffer Wolsey's return to office he would
eat him up alive." Though he had never seen his diocese, the Cardinal
was making no haste to go thither. He lingered on at Esher, expecting to
be sent for, and it is evident from the alarm of his rivals that there was
real likelihood of it. The Lady Anne so hated him that she quarrelled with
her uncle Norfolk for not having pressed his attainder. Catherine liked
him equally ill, for she regarded him as the cause of her sufferings. He
had been "disevangelised," as Norfolk called it; but Henry missed at every
turn his dexterity and readiness of hand. He had monopolised the whole
business of the realm; the subordinate officials everywhere were his
creatures, and the threads of every branch of administration had centred
in his cabinet; without him there was universal confusion. The French
Court was strongly in his favour. He had himself made the Anglo-French
alliance; and the Anglo-French alliance was still a necessity to Henry, if
he meant to defy the Emperor and retain an influence at Rome. The King
wished, if he could, to keep on terms with the Pope, and Wolsey, if any
one, could keep the Papal Court within limits of moderation.
The situation was thus more critical than ever. Catherine knew not what
to look for. Those among the peers who, like Norfolk, would naturally have
been her friends, and would have preferred that the divorce should never
have been spoken of, yet saw no reason why on a private ground the Emperor
should light up a European war again. They conceived that by protesting he
had done enough for his honour, and that he ought to advise his aunt to
give way. According to Chapuys, attempts were privately made to obtain a
declaration of opinion from the House of Commons before Parliament
rose. He says that the attempts were unsuccessful. It may have been
so.
But Chapuys could not hope that the unwillingness would last. Charles was
determined to stand by Catherine to all extremities. Henry was threatening
to marry his mistress whether the Pope consented or not, professing to
care not a straw, and almost calling the Pope a heretic. The Pope did not
wish to be a party to a scandal, but also would be sorry to see the King
lose all submission and reverence to the See of Rome. For himself, the
Emperor said he could not see how the affair would end, "but he was
certain that Henry would persist, and war would probably come of it." He
directed his brother Ferdinand to avoid irritating the German Lutherans,
as France might probably take part with England. Fresh efforts were
made to persuade Catherine to take the veil. They were as unsuccessful as
before.
The Emperor was now in Italy. He had gone to Bologna for his coronation on
the conclusion of the Peace of Cambray, and the Pope was to be made to
feel the weight of his Imperial presence. Henry used the occasion to send
a deputation to Bologna, composed of the Earl of Wiltshire, Anne's father,
who was personally known to Charles, Dr. Cranmer, then coming into
prominence, and Stokesly, the Bishop of London, who, having been first on
Catherine's side, had been converted. They were directed to lay before the
Emperor the motives for the King's action, to protest against his
interference, and to explain the certain consequences if he persisted in
supporting the Queen.
The Emperor gave a cold answer, and declined to hear the Earl's
instructions, while the Pope, the Earl said, was led by the Emperor, and
dared not displease him. The second act of the drama was now to open, and
Clement was made to strike the first blow. In consequence of the reports
from Catherine and Chapuys that Henry was collecting the opinions of the
canonists of Europe, and intended to act on them if favourable, a brief
was issued on the 7th of March ordering the King to restore Catherine to
her rights, and prohibiting him from making a second marriage while the
suit was undetermined. The divines and lawyers of Catholic Europe were at
the same time threatened with excommunication if they presumed to declare
themselves favourable to the divorce. But though the voice was Clement's,
the hand was the Emperor's. Clement was being dragged along against his
will, and was still "facing both ways" in honest or dishonest
irresolution. While issuing the brief under compulsion, he said precisely
the opposite in his communication with the French Ambassador, the Bishop
of Tarbes. The Ambassador was able to assure his own master that the Pope
would never give sentence in Catherine's favour. In direct contradiction
of the brief, the Bishop wrote "that the Pope had told him more than three
times in secret he would be glad if the marriage between Henry and Anne
was already made, either by dispensation of the English Legate or
otherwise, provided it was not by his authority or in diminution of his
powers of dispensation and limitation of divine law." In England the
Pope had still his own Nuncio--a Nuncio who, as Chapuys declared, was
"heart and soul" with the King. He was the brother of Sir Gregory Casalis,
Henry's agent at Rome, and Henry was said to have promised him a bishopric
as soon as his cause should be won. The Pope could not have been ignorant
of the disposition of his own Minister.
Chapuys reported a mysterious State secret which had reached him through
Catherine's physician. The Smalcaldic League was about to be formed among
the Protestant Princes of Germany. Francis was inviting the King to
support them and to join with himself in encouraging them to dethrone the
Emperor; the King was said to have agreed on the ground that the Pope and
the Emperor had behaved ill to him, and the probability was that both
France and England in the end would become Lutheran.
Had there been nothing else, the Queen's sterility was held a sufficient
ground for the divorce. If she had been barren from the first, the
marriage would have been held invalid at once. Now that the hope of
succession was gone, the Pope, it was said, ought to have ended it.
The King had been busy all the winter carrying out his project of
collecting the opinions of the learned. The Pope's prohibition not having
been issued in England, his own Bishops, the Universities, and the
canonists had declared themselves in favour of the divorce. The assent had
not in all instances been given very willingly. Oxford and Cambridge had
attempted a feeble resistance, and at Oxford the Commissioners had been
pelted with stones. Still, given it had been, and the conservative Peers
and gentry were coming to the same conclusion. The King was known to be
wishing to recall Wolsey. The return of Wolsey to power might imply the
acceptance of the French policy; perhaps the alliance with the
Lutherans--at any rate, war with the Emperor. The Duke of Norfolk and his
friends were English aristocrats, adherents of the old traditions,
dreading and despising German revolutionists; but they believed that the
King and the Emperor could only be drawn together by Charles's consent to
the divorce. The King, Norfolk said to Chapuys, was so much bent on it
that no one but God could turn him. He believed it imperative for the
welfare of the realm that his master should marry again and have male
succession; he would give all that he possessed for an hour's interview
with the Emperor; if his Majesty would but consent to the marriage, the
friendship between him and the King would then be indissoluble; the
divorce was nothing by the side of the larger interests at issue; "the
King," it was rumoured, "had written, or was about to write, to the
Archbishop of Canterbury, that if the Pope persisted in refusing justice,
his own and all Church authority would be at an end in England;" the
nobles and people, provoked and hurt at the advocation of the suit to
Rome, were daily more and more incensed against Churchmen, and would
become Lutherans in the end. The Pope had confessed that the presence
of the Imperial army in Italy left him no liberty. If revolution came, the
Emperor would be the cause of it. The Duke spoke with the indignation of
an Englishman at a rumour that the Emperor had "threatened to use all his
power in the Queen's support." Such menaces, he said, were useless, and
the nation would not endure them. Foreign princes had no authority over
English kings.
Chapuys did not mend matters by saying that the Emperor was not thinking
of employing force, for he did not believe that the King would give
occasion for it. The Emperor's interference, indeed, would be unnecessary,
for the Duke must be aware that if the divorce was proceeded with there
would be a civil war in England. Chapuys was vain of his insight into
things and characters. Like so many of his successors, he mistook the
opinion of a passionate clique of priests and priest-ridden malcontents
for the general sentiment of the nation. They told him, as they told other
Spanish ambassadors after him, that all the world thought as they did.
Fanatics always think so; and the belief that they were right proved in
the end the ruin of the Spanish empire. In the present instance, however,
Chapuys may be pardoned for his error. Norfolk imagined that Wolsey was
scheming for a return to power on the old anti-Imperial lines. Wolsey was
following a more dangerous line of his own. Impatient with the delay in
his restoration, he imagined that by embroiling matters more fatally he
could make his own help indispensable; and he was drifting into what can
only be called treachery--treachery specially dishonourable to him.
Wolsey, the originator of the divorce and the French alliance, had now
become the friend of Catherine and the secret adviser of Chapuys. He had
welcomed, had perhaps advised, the issue of the prohibitory Papal brief.
Copies of it were sent for from Flanders to be shown in England. "The
Queen," wrote Chapuys on the 10th of May, "is now firmer than ever,
and believes the King will not dare make the other marriage; if he does,
which may God prevent, I suspect he will repent and be thankful to return
to his first marriage, if by so doing he could be freed from his second.
This is the opinion of Cardinal Wolsey and of many others. The Cardinal
would have given his archbishopric that this had been done two years ago.
He would have been better revenged on the intrigue which has ruined him."
These words, taken by themselves, prove that Wolsey was now in the
confidence of Catherine's friends, but would not justify further
inference. Another letter which follows leaves no room for doubt.
On the 15th of June Chapuys writes again. "I have a letter from the
Cardinal's physician, in which he tells me that his master, not knowing
exactly the state of the Queen's affairs, cannot give any special advice
upon them; but with fuller information would counsel and direct as if he
was to gain Paradise by it, as on her depended his happiness, honour, and
peace of mind. As things stood he thought that the Pope should proceed to
the weightier censures, and should call in the secular arm; there was want
of nerve in the way in which things were handled." The calling in
the secular arm meant invasion and open war. To advise it was treasonable
in any English subject. There may be circumstances under which treason of
such a kind might be morally defended. No defence, moral or political, can
be made for Wolsey; and it was the more discreditable because at this time
he was professing the utmost devotion to his King, and endeavouring to
secure his confidence. Three different petitions Norfolk discovered him to
have sent in, "desiring as much authority as ever he had." Norfolk no
doubt watched him, and may have learnt enough to suspect what he was
doing. The whispers and the messages through the intriguing physician had
not gone unobserved. The King persisted in his generous confidence, and
could not be persuaded that his old friend could be really
treacherous, but he consented to send him down to his diocese. Wolsey
went, still affecting his old magnificence, with a train of six hundred
knights and gentlemen; but he never reached his cathedral city. Chapuys
heard, to his alarm, that the physician was arrested and was in the Tower.
He congratulated himself that, were all revealed which had passed between
him and Wolsey, nothing could be discovered which would compromise his own
safety. But it was true that Wolsey's physician had betrayed his master,
revealing secrets which he had bound himself never to tell. He had
confessed, so Chapuys learnt, that the Cardinal had advised the Pope to
excommunicate the King, if he did not send away the "Lady" from the court,
hoping thus "to raise the country and obtain the management." Too
evidently the Cardinal had been intriguing, and not honourably, merely for
his own purposes. He might have persuaded himself that the divorce would
be injurious to the country; but after the part which he had played it was
not for him to advise the Pope to strike at his master, whom he had
himself tempted to go so deep with it. The King was convinced at last.
Orders were sent down to arrest him and bring him back to London. He knew
that all was now over with him, and that he would not be again forgiven.
He refused to take food, and died on his way at Leicester Abbey on St.
Andrew's Day. He was buried, it was observed, in the same church where the
body lay of Richard III. One report said that he had starved himself;
another that he had taken poison. Chapuys says "that he died like a good
Christian, protesting that he had done nothing against the King." His
designs had failed, whatever they might have been, and he ended his great
career struggling ineffectually to conjure back into the vase the spirit
which he had himself let loose.