The definitive sentence which had passed in England, it may easily be supposed, occasioned much clamour at Rome, where menaces of excommunication, in a very lofty tone, were thrown out. In return, the king and the primate joined in an appeal to a general council; a theme, then very popular; both among protestants, and papists. This appeal they notified to the pope, who was then at Marseilles. It was intrusted to the care of Bonner, afterwards the celebrated bishop of London; who executed his commission with his usual vehemence. The incensed pope, on the other hand, equally impetuous, talked of throwing the minister head-long into a cauldron of molten lead: on which Bonner, alarmed at the idea, precipitately retired.

Francis I was, at this time, joined in bonds of strictest amity with England. The part which Henry had taken in the affairs of Europe, after the fatal battle of Pavia, had rivetted the generous heart of the French monarch to him with more than political friendship. Francis had seen, with real concern, the progress of the breach between Henry and the See of Rome; and had resolved to take this opportunity of an interview with the pope, to endeavour to repay his obligations to the king of England, by bringing his disagreeable difference with the pontiff, if possible, to an accommodation. He made the attempt: but found the pope full of resentment; and it was with the utmost difficulty, that he at length prevailed on him to promise, that Henry might still expect a favourable sentence from the conclave, if he would make his submission before a short day, which was appointed. But this was only half the obstacle. Henry was as lofty as the pope; and could as ill brook submission, as the other could bear controul.

There happened to be in the French king's retinue at Marseilles, a churchman of very eminent abilities, Bellay bishop of Bayonne. An accidental circumstance had just thrown the eyes of all men upon him. The night before the pope made his public entrance, it was discovered, that the president of the parliament, who had been appointed to receive him with a Latin oration, had unluckily chosen a subject, which would certainly give the pontiff offence: and yet there was no time for a new composition. In this article of extremity, when the whole business of the ceremonial was deranged, Bellay offered his service to speak extempore; and did it with such uncommon propriety and elegance, that he was marked, from that time, as a man of the first genius in France.

This person the French king made choice of to persuade Henry into the agreement, he had just made with the pope. The bishop knew mankind, and could adapt himself to their foibles. Henry was well tinctured with the erudition of those times; and affected greatly the character of being a patron of learning. Bellay knew him thoroughly; and drawing the discourse from business to letters, would often put him in mind of the great reputation he had in Europe for learning; and how much the whole catholic cause was indebted to his pen. By artfully insinuating these topics, he at length engaged Henry to accept the accommodation, which Francis had made for him; and to send a courier with his submission to Rome.

This treaty with the pope was not transacted so secretly, but in part it transpired, and gave the first alarm to the protestant party; whom it intirely convinced of the fickleness of the king's temper, and of the slender grounds they had for the certainty even of a bare toleration. None was more distressed than the archbishop: but with his usual calmness, and caution he held his peace; and trusted for the protection of religion to that Almighty Hand, which had begun the reformation of it.

In this suspence the minds of men remained many weeks; and they whose principles waited on every change, began already to waver; and to talk publicly of the precipitancy of the late innovations, which ran the risk of throwing the kingdom into such a serment, as could not easily be allayed.

At length the long expected courier arrived from Rome; and produced a new agitation in the minds of men. All was now declared to be over; and such a breach made with the pope, as could never again be healed.

The account of the matter was this. Contrary winds had detained the courier, it seems, beyond his day. The bishop of Bayonne, (who, after all his services in England, had himself undertaken a voyage to Rome to negotiate with the pope) pressed his holiness to make some allowance for the uncertainty and danger of winds, and seas; especially as it was then in the depth of winter: and to suspend a definitive sentence for one week only. But the emperor's influence, and the pope's own irascible temper prevailed for hastier measures. Nay even the usual forms of business were accelerated; and after a shorter hearing than, in such a case, was commonly allowed, a definitive sentence was passed, confirming the king's marriage with Catharine; and declaring him excommunicated, if he did not put away his present queen.

Two days after the definitive sentence had passed, the king's submission arrived. The pope stood aghast: but it was now too late: the sentence could not be reviewed; the cardinals of the opposition holding firm to the established rules of the conclave.—If any event could authorize man to point out the immediate finger of God, this certainly might.

Many historians have entertained doubts of the king's sincerity in this business: and it is certain the parliament, at this time, was beginning to take measures not very agreeable to the popish interest. But however this may be reconciled, it is difficult to say, what Henry's meaning could be, if it was not pure. He had already felt his own strength; and was under no necessity either to amuse, or temporize: nor was duplicity, among those faults, which are commonly laid to his charge.

While affairs with the court of Rome were thus depending, the emissaries of the popish party allowed themselves unbridled licence in England. We are amazed that such a prince as Henry could bear to be told in his own chapel, That unless he restored religion, dogs should lick his blood, as they had licked the blood of Ahab. But there was a grossness in the manners of those times, which we must carry along with us in all our inquiries into them. The actions of men were perhaps more restrained, than they are now: their tongues were certainly more licentious; and Henry, who had no idea of delicacy himself, was less offended, than might be imagined, at the gross indelicacy of others.

But of all the efforts of the popish clergy, at this time, the delusions of the maid of Kent were the most extraordinary. This enthusiast, falling into artful hands, was managed in such a way, as to draw the attention of the whole kingdom. Her prophecies were uttered in very free languages and she poured the vengeance of heaven, with a very liberal hand, on the king, and his abettors. Her impostures were at length detected; and she suffered death, with her accomplices.