SECT. V.
SECT. V.
The parliament, in the mean time, took vigorous measures in support of religious liberty. Such a spirit was raised in the commons, that they debated freely on the great question of the supremacy of the pope—a question, which, if ever moved before, had been always treated with the utmost distance, and timidity. It was carried however now
against the see of Rome with a very high hand.
In elder times, when parliaments questioned only some exorbitant claim of the pope—his power to raise money in England, or to confer benefices on foreigners; however spirited such inquiries appeared at the time, posterity saw they had been carried on without foresight. A few branches might be lopped off: but as the trunk itself was left standing, it was able, at the returning season, to shoot as vigorously as before.
One would have imagined, that an act so destructive of popery, as the act of supremacy, would, at least, have been retarded by some dissenting voices, among so many, who were friends to the see of Rome in their hearts. But tho it met with opposition, yet it was much less opposed than could have been imagined; and by few persons of consequence. Lee of York, Tunstal of Durham, and Stokesly of London, all papists, and two of them bigoted, acceded to it. Gardiner was even strenuous in its support. "The realm and the church, (said he,
with that subtilty, which was characteristic in him) consist of the same people. And as the king is head of the realm: he must therefore be head of the church."
This act was obtained chiefly by the abilities of the primate, who discovered such a fund of learning, and good sense on the question; and delivered his sentiments in such a flow of natural and easy eloquence, that he silenced opposition, and gave his cause all the lustre, which reason and argument could give.
When the prejudices of men began to cool; and the consequences of this very important act were seriously considered, all sober men of every denomination acknowledged the utility of it. They hoped a more orderly clergy would now succeed; whose manners might be more easily inspected; and whose conduct would be amenable to civil authority. They hoped an end would now be put to those contests between the civil and ecclesiastical powers, which had often cost the nation so dear. They saw a way opened for the redress of many grievances, which could not easily approach the court of
Rome at so remote a distance, and so intrenched in forms. In short, they foresaw a variety of advantages from the simplicity of the government, as it was now established; and from the abolition of that gross absurdity in every political system, an imperium in imperio.
The protestants had still farther cause for rejoicing. They considered this act, as the only thing, which could open a way to reformation. For tho in itself it had no immediate connection either with doctrine, or discipline; yet without it, no step could be taken towards the reformation of either. Besides, they thought the abrogation of the decretals was a great step towards the introduction of the bible; and imagined, they should be able, through so wide a breach, to push out every error, and every corruption of the church.
When this celebrated act passed; another, as a kind of appendage to it, passed also—the act of succession; which settled the crown on the children of the present
queen; declaring Mary, the daughter of Catharine, in effect illegitimate.
This act involved in ruin two excellent men, Fisher bishop of Rochester, and Sir Thomas More. The parliament had declared the denial of the king's supremacy to be high treason: and imposed a testoath to be taken by all people in office; and indeed universally, if required. Fisher refused it; and More, when questioned, talked in very ambiguous language. He might as well have spoken plainly. Henry, impatient of controul, considered his ambiguity as guilt. The primate laboured with every application of his interest, and talents, to preserve these victims of lawless power. With More he had lived on terms of great fa-miliarity; and was prompted to employ even casuistry to save him. "On one hand, said he, you are doubtful as to the point in question. On the other, you are certain, you ought to obey your prince. Let doubt then give way to certainty."—More smiled, and laid his head upon the block.
This was not the only innocent blood, which was shed at this time. That queen, for whose sake Henry had put away a wife, with whom he had lived twenty years, was herself in little more than three, become the object of his aversion; and was condemned to death on the merest surmise. A few unguarded expressions were the utmost, that could be proved against her. She was a lady of a gay and lively temper; and in such dispositions, little, verbal levities are not only consistent with the purest manners; but even sometimes perhaps indicative of them. Henry however wished not to find her innocent; and indiscretion had the force of crime.
Among the many suspicious circumstances, which attended this very mysterious affair, it was not one of the least, that during the discussion of it, the archbishop was directed, by an order from the king, to keep his house at Lambeth. The popish party were universally bent against the queen; and, it was supposed,
were afraid of the primate's interposition, and influence.
Henry however, when it served his purpose, introduced him as an actor in the affair. The life of the queen was not all the king aimed at. Her daughter, the lady Elizabeth, must also be declared illegitimate, to make way for the posterity of his future consort. To this end, he resolved, on the strength of some surmise of a precontract, to be divorced from her, before he put her to death. But tho the earl of Northumberland, who was supposed to be the other party, made the most solemn allegations, that no such contract had ever existed, yet the king was determined she should be found guilty; and the archbishop was to be his instrument. To him, it is said, the queen made a private confession of her crimes; and the comment of history on her confession is, that having been sentenced to be burnt, or beheaded, as the king pleased, she was terrified into a consession to avoid the more rigorous part of the sentence. On the strength however
of this confession, the archbishop passed a sentence of divorce.
Immediately after this sentence, she was beheaded; and the king, void of every idea, not only of feeling, but of decency, the very next day married Jane Seymour. By this precipitancy however he made a better apology for the unfortunate Ann Bolleyn, than the most zealous of her advocates could have done.
When we consider the whole of this black affair—the want of legal evidence to prove any crime—yet a sentence of death passed in consequence of that insufficient proof—a precontract supposed, which was to void the marriage—and yet the crime of adultery still charged—the terrifying mode of the sentence—and above all the king's known attachment to another lady—we are surprized to find a man of the archbishop's character submitting, in any shape, to be an actor in so complicated a scene of barbarism, cruelty, absurdity, and injustice. The confession had certainly all the appearance of being extorted—by both parties the contract was denied on oath—and if both
parties had even confessed it, it is probable, that the archbishop might have found strong arguments to prove, in any other instance, that a consummated marriage was a more inviolable bond, than a precontract; and still more so, if the parties first contracting had given up their mutual vows. The whole, in short, has the appearance of a dishonest submission to a tyrant's passions; and we can apologize for it only as we have done for some other of this prelate's compliances, by supposing that his meekness was violently borne down by the king's impetuosity.
Indeed the plenitude of a king's power was never so thoroughly impressed on the minds of men, as in this reign; tho it took in future reigns, as far as such jargon can do, a more systemized form. The Vox Dei, which was afterwards too freely supposed to issue from the people, was however now supposed to issue solely from the throne. When therefore we find these great condescensions to a prince in men of eminent characters, we must not measure them by the liberal notions of later times; but must make some allowances
for those high ideas of kingly power, which prevailed in those periods, in which they lived.
It is true, we are told, the primate made a spirited application to the king in the queen's favour: but on this apology, it is probable, none of his advocates will be very forward to expatiate. The more innocent he thought her, the more guilty he must think himself.
How far his acting ex officio was an apology, let those define, who think themselves obliged to perform the functions of an office, which requires unlawful deeds.
