QUEEN CATHERINE DESCENDS FROM THE THRONE, AND QUEEN ANNE BOLEYN ASCENDS
IT.
(NOVEMBER 1532 TO JULY 1553.)
Cranmer was on the archiepiscopal throne: if Anne Boleyn were now to
take her seat on the royal throne by the side of Henry, it was the
pope’s opinion that everything would be lost. Clement recurred once more
to his favorite suggestion of bigamy, already advised by him in 1528 and
1530. True, this suggestion could not be acceptable either to Henry or
to Charles V., but that made it all the better in the eyes of the
pontiff: he would then have the appearance of assenting to the king’s
plans without running the least risk of seeing them realized. ‘Rather
than do what his Majesty asks,’ he said to one of the English envoys, ‘I
would prefer granting him the necessary dispensation to have two wives:
that would be a smaller scandal.’[258]
[Sidenote: Tenacity Of The Pope.]
The tenacity with which the pope advised Henry again and again to commit
the crime of bigamy has not prevented the most illustrious advocates of
catholicism from exclaiming that ‘to have two wives at once is a mystery
of iniquity, of which there is no example in Christendom.’[259] A
singular assertion after a cardinal and then a pope had on several
occasions advised what they called ‘a mystery of iniquity.’ Again, for
the third time, the king refused a remedy that was worse than the
disease.
The pope wished at any price to prevent Rome from losing England; and
turning to the other side, he resolved to try to gain over Charles V.
and prevail upon him not to oppose the divorce. In order to succeed,
Clement determined to undertake a journey to Bologna in the worst season
of the year. He started on the 18th of November with six cardinals and a
certain number of attendants, and took twenty days to reach that city by
way of Perugia. Most of his officers had done everything to dissuade him
from this painful expedition, but in vain. The rain fell in torrents;
the rivers were swollen and unfordable; the roads muddy and broken up;
the mules sank of fatigue one after another; the couriers who preceded
him solicited the pope to travel on foot: and at last his Holiness’s
favorite mule broke its leg. It mattered not: he must oppose the
Reformation of England: the poor pontiff, already sick, had but this one
idea. But the discomforts of the journey increased; the pope often
arrived at inns where there was no bed, and had to sleep among the
straw.[260] At last he reached Bologna on the 7th of December, but in
such a plight that, notwithstanding his love for ceremonies, he entered
the city furtively.
Another disappointment awaited him. The Cardinal of Ancona died, the
most influential member of the Sacred College, and on whom Clement
relied to gain over the emperor, who greatly respected him. But this did
not cool the pontiff’s zeal: ‘I am thoroughly decided to please the king
in this great matter,’[261] he said to Henry’s envoys, and added: ‘To
have universal concord between all the princes of Christendom, I would
give a joint of my hand.’[262] In fact Clement set to work and went so
far as to tell Charles that, according to the theologians, the pope had
no right to grant a dispensation for a marriage between brother and
sister; but the emperor was immovable. The pope then proposed a truce of
three or four years between Henry, Francis, and Charles, during which he
would convoke a general council, to whom he would remit the whole
affair. Francis informed Henry that all this was nothing but a
trick.[263]
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
The king took immediate advantage of this law to inquire of Convocation
whether the pope could authorize a man to marry his brother’s widow. Out
of sixty-six present, and one hundred and ninety-seven who voted by
proxy, there were only nineteen in the Upper House who voted against the
king. The opposition was stronger in the Lower House; but even this
agreed with the other house in declaring that Pope Julius II. had
exceeded his authority in giving Henry a dispensation, and that the
marriage, was consequently null from the very first.
[Sidenote: Cranmer’s Letter.]
Nothing remained now but to proceed to the divorce. On the 11th of
April, two days before Easter, Cranmer, as archbishop, wrote a letter to
the king, in which he set forth, that desiring to fill the office of
Archbishop of Canterbury, ‘according to the laws of God and Holy Church,
for the relief of the grievances and infirmities of the people, God’s
subjects and yours in spiritual causes,’[275] he prayed his Majesty’s
favor for that office.[276] Cranmer did not decline the royal
intervention, but he avoided confounding spiritual with temporal
affairs.[277]
Henry, who was doubtless waiting impatiently for this letter, was
alarmed as he read the words ‘according to the laws of God and Holy
Church.’ God and the Church.... Well! but what of the king and the royal
supremacy? The primate seemed to assert the right of acting _proprio
motu_, and, while asking the king’s favor, to be doing a simple act of
courtesy.... Did the Church of England claim to take the pontiff’s place
and station, and leave the king aside?... That was not what Henry meant.
Tired of the pretensions of the Pope of Rome, would he suffer a pope on
a small scale at his side? He intended to be master in his own
kingdom—master of everything. The letter must be modified, and this
Henry intimated to Cranmer.
That day or the next after the one on which this letter had been written
there was a great festival at court in honor of Anne Boleyn. ‘Queen Anne
that evening went in state to her closet openly as queen,’ says Hall. It
was probably during this festival that the king, taking the prelate
aside, desired him to suppress the unwelcome passage. The idea suggested
by an eminent historian, that Cranmer sent both the letters together to
Henry that he might choose which he would prefer, seems to me
inadmissible. Cranmer, as it would appear, submitted, waiting for better
days. On returning to Lambeth, he recopied his letter, omitting the
words which had been pointed out. Not content with asking the king’s
_favor_, he desired his _license_, his authorization to proceed. He
dated his second letter the same day, and sent it to his master, who was
satisfied with it.[278]
This alone did not satisfy Henry: in his reply to the archbishop, he
marked still more strongly his intention not to have in England a
primate independent of the crown: ‘Ye, therefore, duly recognizing that
it becometh you not, being our subject, to enterprise any part of your
said office _without our license obtained so to do_.... In consideration
of these things, albeit we, being your king and sovereign, do recognize
no superior upon earth but only God; yet, because ye be under us, by
God’s calling and ours, the most principal minister of our spiritual
jurisdiction, we will not refuse your humble request.’
This language was clear. Henry VIII. did not, however, claim the
arbitrary authority to which the pope pretended: human and divine laws
were to be the supreme rule in England; but he, the king, was to be
their chief interpreter. Cranmer must understand that. ‘To these laws
we, as a Christian king,’ wrote Henry, ‘have always heretofore
submitted, and shall ever most obediently submit ourselves.’ The
ecclesiastical system which Henry VIII. established in England in 1533
was not a free Church in a free State, and there is no reason to be
surprised at it.
Cranmer, having received the royal license, set out for Mortloke manor
to prepare the act which, for six years, had kept England and the
continent in suspense. Taking the Bishops of Lincoln and Winchester and
some lawyers with him, he proceeded quietly and without ostentation to
the priory of Dunstable, five miles from Ampthill, where Queen Catherine
was staying. He wished to avoid the notoriety of a trial held in London.
[Sidenote: Ecclesiastical Court.]
The ecclesiastical court being duly formed, Henry and Catherine were
summoned to appear before it on the 10th of May. The king was present by
attorney; but the queen replied: ‘My cause is before the pope; I accept
no other judge.’ A fresh summons was immediately made out for the 12th
of May, and, as the queen appeared neither in person nor by any of her
servants, she was pronounced contumacious,[279] and the trial went
forward. The king was informed every night of each day’s proceedings,
and he was often in great anxiety. Some unexpected event, an appeal from
Catherine, the sudden intervention of the pope or of the emperor might
stop everything. His courtiers were on the watch for news. Anne said
nothing, but her heart beat quick; and the ambitious Cromwell, whose
fortunes depended on the success of the matter, was sometimes in great
alarm. Cranmer rested on the declarations of Scripture, and showed much
equity and uprightness during the trial.[280] ‘I have willingly injured
no human being,’ he said. But he knew the queen had numerous partisans;
they would conjure her, perhaps, to appear before her judges. There
would then be a great stir, and the voice of the people would be
heard.[281] The archbishop could hardly restrain his emotion as he
thought of this. He must indeed expect an inflexible resistance on the
part of the queen; but, in the midst of all the agitation around her,
she alone remained calm and resolute. Her hand had grasped the pope’s
robe, and nothing could make her let it go. ‘I am the king’s lawful
wife,’ she repeated; ‘I am Queen of England. My daughter is the king’s
child: I place her in her father’s hands.’
On Wednesday the 23d of May, the primate, attended by all the
archiepiscopal court, proceeded to the church of St. Peter’s priory at
Dunstable, in order to deliver the final judgment of divorce. A few
persons attracted by curiosity were present; but, although Dunstable was
near Ampthill, all of Catherine’s household kept themselves respectfully
aloof from an act which was to deal their mistress such a grievous blow.
The primate, after reciting the decisions of the several universities,
provincial councils, and other premises, continued: ‘Therefore we,
Thomas, archbishop, primate, and legate, having first called upon the
name of Christ, and having God altogether before our eyes, do pronounce
and declare that the marriage between our sovereign lord King Henry and
the most serene Lady Catherine, widow of his brother, having been
contracted contrary to the law of God, is null and void; and therefore
we sentence that it is not lawful for the said most illustrious Prince
Henry and the said most serene Lady Catherine to remain in the said
pretended marriage.’[282] The act, drawn up very carefully by two
notaries, was immediately sent to the king.
The divorce was pronounced, and Henry was free. Many persons gave way to
feelings of alarm: they thought that all Europe would combine against
England. ‘The pope will excommunicate the English,’ said some; ‘and then
the emperor will destroy them.’ But, on the other hand, the majority of
the nation desired to have done with a subject which had been agitating
their minds during the last seven years. England, getting out of a
labyrinth from which she had never expected to find an issue, began to
breathe again.
Catherine’s marriage was declared to be null: it only remained now to
recognize Anne Boleyn’s. On the 28th of May, an archiepiscopal court
held at Lambeth, in the primate’s palace, officially declared that Henry
and Anne had been lawfully wedded, and the king had now no thought but
how to seal his union by the pomp of a coronation. It would certainly
have been preferable had the new queen taken her seat quietly on the
throne; but slanderous reports made it necessary for the king to present
his wife to the people in all the splendor of royalty.
[Sidenote: Anne Presented To The People.]
At three o’clock in the afternoon of Thursday before Whitsuntide, a
magnificent procession started from Greenwich. Fifty barges, adorned
with rich banners, conveyed the representatives of the different city
companies, and the metropolis joyfully hailed a union that promised to
inaugurate a future of light and faith: it was almost a religious
festival. On the banner of the Fishmongers was the inscription, _All
worship belongs to God alone_; on that of the Haberdashers, _My trust is
in God only_; on that of the Grocers, _God gives grace_; and on that of
the Goldsmiths, _To God alone be all the glory_. The city of London thus
asserted, in the presence of the immense crowd, the principles of the
Reformation. The lord mayor’s barge immediately preceded the galley, all
hung with cloth of gold, in which Anne was seated. Near it floated
another gay barge, on which a little mountain was contrived, planted
with red and white roses, in the midst of which sat a number of young
maidens singing to the accompaniment of sweet music. A hundred richly
ornamented barques, carrying the nobility of England, brought up the
magnificent procession, and a countless number of boats and skiffs
covered the river. The moment Anne set her foot on shore at the Tower, a
thousand trumpets sounded points of triumph, and all the guns of the
fortress fired such a peal as had seldom been heard before.[283]
Henry, who liked the sound of cannon, met Anne at the gate and kissed
her, and the new queen entered in triumph that vast fortress from which,
three years later, she was to issue, by order of the same prince, to
mount, an innocent victim, the cruel scaffold. She smiled courteously on
all around; and yet, seized with a sudden emotion, she sometimes
trembled, as if, instead of the joyous flowers on which she trod with
light and graceful foot, she saw a deep gulf yawning beneath her.
The king and queen passed the whole of the next day (Friday) at the
Tower. On Saturday Anne left it for Westminster.[284] The streets were
gay with banners, and the houses were hung with velvet and cloth of
gold. All the orders of the State and Church, the ambassadors of France
and Venice, and the officers of the court, opened the procession. The
queen was carried in a magnificent litter covered with white cloth shot
with gold, her head, which she held modestly inclined, being encircled
with a wreath of precious stones. The people who crowded the streets
were full of enthusiasm, and seemed to triumph more than she did
herself.
The next day, Whit-Sunday, she proceeded for the coronation to the
ancient abbey of Westminster, where the bishops and the court had been
summoned to meet her. She took her seat in a rich chair, whence she
presently descended to the high altar and knelt down. After the
prescribed prayers she rose, and the archbishop placed the crown of St.
Edward upon her head. She then took the sacrament and retired; the Earl
of Wiltshire, her father, trembling with emotion, took her right hand
... he was at the pinnacle of happiness, and yet he was uneasy. Alas! a
caprice of the man who had raised his daughter to the throne might be
sufficient to hurl her from it! Anne herself, in the midst of all these
pomps, greater than any ever seen before at the coronation of an English
queen, could not entirely forget the princess whose place she had now
taken. Might not she be rejected in her turn?... In such a thought there
was enough to make her shudder.
[Sidenote: Feelings Of The New Queen.]
Anne did not find in her marriage with Henry the happiness she had
dreamt, and a cloud was often seen passing across those features once so
radiant. The idol to which this young woman had sacrificed
everything—the splendor of a throne—did not satisfy her longings for
happiness: she looked within herself, and found once more, as queen,
that attraction towards the doctrine of the Gospel which she had felt in
the society of Margaret of Valois, and which, amid her ambitious
pursuits, had been almost extinguished in her heart. She discovered that
for those who have everything, as well as for those who have nothing,
there is only one single good—God himself. She did not probably give
herself up entirely to Him, for her best impressions were often
fugitive; but she took advantage of her power to assist those who she
knew were devoted to the Gospel. She petitioned for the pardon of John
Lambert, who was still in prison, and that faithful confessor of Jesus
Christ settled in London, where he began to teach children Latin and
Greek, without however neglecting the defence of truth.[285]
Two women had for some time attracted the eyes of all England—the one
who was ascending the throne, and the other who was descending from it.
Nothing awakens the sympathy of generous souls more than misfortune, and
particularly innocence in misfortune; and accordingly Catherine’s fate
will always excite a lively interest, even in the ranks of
protestantism. We must not forget, however, that Catherine’s cause was
that of the old times and of the Roman papacy, and that Anne’s cause was
identified with that light, liberty, and new life which have
distinguished modern times. It is true, Catherine died in disgrace, but
in peace, surrounded by her women, her officers, her faithful servants;
while the youthful Anne, separated from her friends, alone on a
scaffold, praying God to bless the prince who put her to death, had her
head cruelly cut off by the hangman’s sword. If on the one side there
was innocence and divorce, on the other there was innocence and
martyrdom.
The king, who had informed Catherine through Lord Mountjoy of the
archiepiscopal sentence, officially communicated his divorce and
marriage to the various crowned heads of Europe, and particularly to the
King of France, the emperor, and the pope. The latter on the 11th of
July annulled the sentence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, declared the
king’s marriage with Anne Boleyn unlawful, and threatened to
excommunicate both, unless they separated before the end of September.
Henry angrily commanded his theologians to demonstrate that the bull was
a nullity, recalled his ambassador, the Duke of Norfolk, and said that
the moment was come for all monarchs and all Christian people to
withdraw from under the yoke of the Bishop of Rome. ‘The pope and his
cardinals,’ he wrote to Francis I., ‘pretend to have princes, who are
free persons, at their beck and commandment. Sire, you and I and all the
princes of Christendom must unite for the preservation of our rights,
liberties, and privileges; we must alienate the greatest part of
Christendom from the see of Rome.’[286]
But Henry had scholastic prejudices, which made him fall into the
strangest contradictions. While he was employing his diplomacy to
isolate the pope, he still prayed him to declare the nullity of his
marriage with Catherine.[287] It is not at the court of this prince that
we must look for the real Reformation: we must go in search of it
elsewhere.
Footnote 258:
‘Multo, minus scandalosum fuisset, dispensare cum Majestate vestra
super duabus uxoribus.’—Record Office MS.
Footnote 259:
Bossuet, _Hist. des Variations_, liv. vi.
Footnote 260:
‘Compelled to lie in the straw.’—_State Papers_ (Henry VIII.), part
vii. p. 394.
Footnote 261:
‘Utterly resolve to do pleasure to your Highness.’—Benet to Henry
VIII., _State Papers_, pp. 401, 402.
Footnote 262:
‘He would it had cost him a joint of his hand.’—Ibid.
Footnote 263:
‘Your Grace should give no credence thereto, for it is but
dissimulation.—Ibid. p. 422.
Footnote 264:
Cranmer, _Remains_, p. 246.
Footnote 265:
‘The purity of her life, her constant virginity.’—Burnet, _Records_,
iii. p. 64; see, also, Wyatt, _Memoirs of Anne Boleyn_, p. 437.
Footnote 266:
Henry’s instructions to the Earl of Rochford are written in French,
probably that they might be shown to Francis.—_State papers_, vii. pp.
429-431.
Footnote 267:
_State Papers_, vii. p. 421. A note mentions that the document cannot
be found. It is evidently the brief given by Le Grand, _Preuves du
Divorce_, p. 558.
Footnote 268:
‘Te et ipsam Annam, excommunicationis pœna, innodatos declaramus.’—Le
Grand, _Preuves_, p. 567.
Footnote 269:
‘Granted by the pope at the suits of the imperials.’—_State Papers_,
vii. p. 454.
Footnote 270:
‘He can hardly believe it to be true rather than to be
counterfeited.’—Ibid. p. 421.
Footnote 271:
‘In derogation both of justice and the affection lately shown by his
Holiness unto us.’—Ibid.
Footnote 272:
Ibid.
Footnote 273:
_State Papers_, vii. p. 454.
Footnote 274:
Statute against appeals, 24 Henry VIII. cap. 12; Collyers, _Ch.
History_, ii.
Footnote 275:
Wilkins, _Concilia Mag. Britanniæ_, iii. pp. 756-759. Rymer, Fœdera,
vi. p. 179.
Footnote 276:
_State Papers_ (Henry VIII.), i. p. 390.
Footnote 277:
‘Your sufferance and grants.’—_State Papers_ (Henry VIII.), i. p. 390.
Footnote 278:
The two letters are in the State Paper Office; they are in Cranmer’s
handwriting, and appear to have been read, both of them, by the king.
Our hypothesis touching these letters differs from that of Mr. Froude
(_Hist. England_, i. p. 440). _State Papers_ (Henry VIII.), i. pp.
390, 391.
Footnote 279:
‘Vere et manifeste contumacem.’—_State Papers_ (Henry VIII.) i. p.
394.
Footnote 280:
‘My lord of Canterbury handleth himself very uprightly.’—Ibid. p. 395.
Footnote 281:
‘A great bruit and voice of the people.’—Cranmer, _Remains_, p. 342.
Footnote 282:
‘Non licere in eodem prætenso matrimonio remanere.’—Wilkins,
_Concilia_, iii. p. 759; Rymer, _Fœdera_, vi. p. 182.
Footnote 283:
Cranmer, _Remains_, p. 245.
Footnote 284:
Mr. Froude says that Anne went to the Tower on the 19th of May, and
that she quitted it for Westminster on the 31st, so that she resided
there for eleven days (_History of England_, i. pp. 450, 451). That
appears hardly probable, and is in contradiction to Cranmer’s
narrative, where we read: ‘Her grace came to the Tower on Thursday at
night.... Friday all day the king and queen tarried there.... The next
day, which was Saturday, the knights rid before the queen’s grace
towards Westminster.’—_Letters_, p. 245.
Footnote 285:
‘Lambert delivered ... by the coming of Queen Anne.’—Foxe, _Acts_, v.
p. 225.
Footnote 286:
‘To the clear alienation of a great part of Christendom from that
see.’—_State Papers_, vii. p. 477.
Footnote 287:
‘That the matrimony was and is naught.’—Ibid. p. 498.