This is incontrovertible evidence of Anne's direct involvement in the gathering of learned materials on the Divorce and Supremacy. It is also striking that, to judge from the actual language of the passage in Hawkins's letter, Anne had described the required books in Latin as
de
potestate Papae.
5
Cranmer, it would seem, had done his tutoring well.
* * *
But his lessons had stopped early in 1532, when he had been sent on his Embassy to the Emperor Charles V. Bearing in mind later events, he seems a bizarre choice for such a mission. But, with his calm good manners, his outward reasonableness, and his careful reserve, he won golden opinions. This is the more surprising considering the range of his secret contacts: not only did Cranmer have formal dealings with the Emperor and his ministers, he was at the same time in semi-clandestine communication with some of the German reformers. And, most clandestine of all, he got married.
Cranmer had of course been married before. But that was before he joined the priesthood. His re-marriage now represented an extraordinary flouting of one of the basic rules of the clerical estate: even Henry, with all his future theological wanderings, was to remain committed to the necessity of clerical celibacy till the end.
6
What drove Cranmer? Lust certainly, I suppose, and perhaps love. But the consequences were at least as important as the causes. Cranmer now had a personal investment, of the deepest sort, in the further progress of Reform. Similarly, the experience of his own frailty gave him a most untypical understanding, for a cleric, of the demands of human sexuality. This meant that he not only agreed with the
theological
arguments behind Henry's determination to end his first marriage (which, as we have seen, he did on first principles), he also sympathised with the
psychological
imperatives which drove the King ever onward on his extraordinary marital journey. Cranmer seems even to have sympathised with Anne.
Meanwhile, his marriage had to be a guilty secret which profoundly conditioned his behaviour over the next few months.
For his recall – the news of which was brought by Hawkins – came as no surprise. His friends in England (that is, the Boleyns and Cromwell) had already given him advance warning of Henry's intention to nominate him as Archbishop of Canterbury. According to Cranmer's enemies, the appointment was the result of a cynical deal between Cranmer and the King. 'Give me the Archbishopric of Canterbury', Cranmer is supposed to have promised Henry, 'and I will give you licence to live in adultery.' In fact, the opposite seems to have been the case and, far from grasping at the appointment, no man has said
nolo episcopari
(I am unwilling to be made a bishop) more fervently than Cranmer.
7
And it is easy to see why. To be a married priest was awkward enough; to be an archbishop with a wife was unthinkable. Moreover, Cranmer could become archbishop only by acknowledging, with the most solemn oaths, the authority of the Pope, which he had already rejected on grounds that were both conscientious and intellectual. These barriers between himself and Canterbury were unavoidable; instead he would have to slither over them by an unlovely combination of hypocrisy and perjury. For a man who valued his integrity it was not a happy prospect.
No wonder he made his journey home from Mantua, where Hawkins finally caught up with him, last as long as possible. Twenty years later, when his world had collapsed in ruins and he was on trial for his life, the memory of those days was still vivid. 'I protest before you all', he told his judges, 'there was never man who came more unwillingly to a bishopric, than I did to that: in so much that when King Henry did send for me in post, that I should come over, I prolonged my journey by seven weeks at the least, thinking that he should be forgetful of me in the meantime.'
8
There was little chance of that, since Anne and Henry were counting the days to his arrival. But (as Cranmer intended) the weeks went by with no news of him. Nothing had been heard from the man himself, of course. Still worse, there had also been silence from Hawkins. Justifiably, Hawkins was 'right pensive' when he imagined what Henry's reaction might be and wisely he excused himself at length. The reason, he explained in his despatch of 21 November, was 'that in all my journey I never met with post, nor courier, or any other man of England', whom he could trust to carry letters home.
9
By early December, Henry and Anne were thoroughly alarmed. They had now been sleeping together for almost a month; Anne may even have had intimations of pregnancy. Something must be done! As they tended to do at such moments, they turned to Cromwell. And Cromwell turned to the faithful Vaughan, who was sent to track down Cranmer and hurry him home.
Cromwell despatched Vaughan on Sunday, 1 December. He embarked at Dover at 10 a.m. on the Monday and made landfall at 10 p.m. at Whitesand Bay (that is, the modern Wissant) to the east of Boulogne. The weather was atrocious, with heavy snow that froze immediately it touched the ground. The result was that he 'could not get a horse for any money, the roads being so dangerous'. Not to be defeated, he walked the twelve miles to Boulogne, 'not [e]scaping more falls than I have fingers'. At Boulogne he took post-horses. But riding proved even more dangerous than walking. He and his horse fell near Abbéville and the injury to his leg 'was scantly eased by an application put on at Amiens'. The accident and its treatment cost him half a day. Nevertheless he arrived at Paris on the morning of the 5th.
But still there was silence about the whereabouts of his quarry. He 'has heard nothing of the man during his journey', Vaughan informed Cromwell in deliberately obscure language. 'A post who came from Lyon today had met with no such person.' On the 6th, Vaughan set out for Lyon himself.
10
The bad weather continued, with 'the ways', he told Cromwell, 'being so perilous by the frost that I never expected to come home without a broken leg'. Nevertheless he arrived at Lyon only three days later and was rewarded with the information he wanted. 'I met an Englishman who had come from Mr Cranmer, who is ten leagues off, and is expected here.' 'The news', he added with nice understatement, 'will please the King.'
Vaughan was writing, he explained, at night. Early the next morning he would ride towards Cranmer. And, he swore, 'I will conduct him in safety, or die by the way.' It was a boast we should believe. But even Vaughan had to acknowledge that his youthful energy was up against a formidable obstacle in Cranmer himself: 'Mr Cranmer is disposed to make only small journeys', he reported. Nevertheless, 'I trust by Christmas we shall be in England'.
11
It would be the best present that Henry and Anne could receive.
In fact, Cranmer managed to drag things out a fortnight further at least and it was not till the end of the second week of the New Year that he arrived at Greenwich, where Henry and Anne were spending the holidays. And it was there, amid the festivities (a hostile reporter claims that the audience took place at a bear-baiting), that Henry informed him formally of his decision to appoint him archbishop. Cranmer, who had been considering his position for the two months of his homeward journey, at first tried to refuse. When he was pressed by Henry, he invoked his conscientious scruples about taking an oath to the Papacy. And on this he proved immovable. The King consulted a panel of legal experts, led by Dr Oliver, who came up with a solution.
12
Cranmer would enter a 'protestation' or disclaimer. This would assert that (as Cranmer himself put it): 'I did not acknowledge [the Pope's] authority any further than as it agreed with the express word of God, and that it might be lawful for me at all times to speak against him, and so to impugn his errors, when time and occasion should serve me'. The protestation would apply to two sets of oaths: to those which Cranmer's proctor would swear in Rome to secure his Bulls of appointment; and to those which Cranmer himself would, in the fullness of time, make at his consecration.
The procedures were explained to Cranmer thus: 'I might do it by way of protestation, and so one [his proctor] to be sent to Rome, who might take the oath and do everything in my name'. Cranmer's response had been to declare he was not his brother's keeper: 'Which, when I understood, I said he [his proctor] should do it
super animam suam
[on his own conscience]'.
13
Cranmer, as he himself realised, had enough to do to look after his own.
* * *
Agreement on all this was not reached till 24 or 25 January. By a curious co-incidence, Henry's most effective agent in Rome, Dr Edmund Bonner, arrived home at the same time for further instructions. Bonner came from the same stable as Gardiner. Like Gardiner, to whom he was junior by about three years, he was a bright young canon lawyer, who had been recruited by Wolsey. He remained in the Cardinal's service after his fall and accompanied him on his fatal journey to the north. And it was from Wolsey's Household at Scrooby in Nottinghamshire on 4 September 1530 that he wrote to his fellow Wolseyian, Thomas Cromwell, in London. Cromwell, he reminded him, 'willing to make me a good Italian [had] promised unto me, long ago, the
Triumphs of Petrarch
in the Italian tongue'. Would he please send it now, by Dr Augustine's servant? And would he also supply other such works, especially 'the book called
Cortegiano
in Italian'? This last was Baldassare Castiglione's classic account of how to navigate the treacherous waters of the Renaissance Court. Bonner evidently learned more than the language from it and he made a seamless transition to the royal service.
14
On Bonner's return from Italy Henry was at York Place. Bonner had an audience on the morning of 25 January 1533, and he found the King in an excellent mood – or, as he put it in full
Cortegiano
mode to his colleague in the Roman Embassy, Dr William Benet, 'I repaired to his Grace, which, being a Prince of most virtue, honour and goodness, gave me most gracious and benign audience'.
Henry had, as we shall see, good reason to be cheerful that morning.
Bonner reported to Benet that Henry was delighted with the signs of a softening in the Pope's position – for so the King chose to interpret recent developments. In return, the King promised to resume his accustomed loyalty to the Holy See. But first the Pope must back up his words with corresponding deeds. What would most please the King at the moment, Benet was to inform the Pope, was for the formalities of 'my Lord Elect of Canterbury, Mr Doctor Cranmer', to 'be . . . favourably handled, especially concerning the Annates, and charges of his Bulls'. If not, the suspension of Annates, 'which is in communication greatly and only stayed by the King's goodness', would be implemented forthwith. That was the stick. The carrot, as Bonner reported it, was equally clear: 'the good and favourable handling of this man shall stay, as me thinketh, many things, and cause diverse, and the King especially, to take it in good part'.
15
Clement, in other words, was being offered a deal. There was also the further inducement, as Chapuys quickly discovered, that Henry was prepared to pay Cranmer's fees at the Papal Court upfront. Was there, the ambassador himself now wondered anxiously, 'some secret intelligence between the Pope and this King'? Certainly Henry was giving every impression that such an agreement had been reached: 'I know very well', Chapuys reported, 'that the King boasts of having gained the Pope to his side, or at least talks of having done so to the Gentlemen of his Privy Chamber.'
16
From this moment, Cranmer's appointment was considered to be in the bag and the following day, 26 January, at about 3 p.m., after Henry had returned to Greenwich, 'Thomas Cranmer, elect of Canterbury', appeared as second in order of precedence of the witnesses of the investiture of Sir Thomas Audley with the office of Lord Chancellor.
17
* * *
And indeed the signs, both in Rome and England, were that Clement was eager to grasp the proffered hand of friendship. Whether he would have been quite so eager if he had known of Henry's previous engagement, before he met Bonner on the 25th, is another matter.
For, earlier that day, Anne and Henry had been married for the second time. This marriage, like the first, was 'secret'. Unlike the first, however, the news leaked. Within the month, Chapuys was confidentially informed that the marriage had taken place. And the celebrant, naturally, was assumed to be Cranmer. But Cranmer hotly denied the charge. Far from having solemnised the marriage, he told Nicholas Hawkins, his friend and successor as ambassador at the Imperial Court: 'I myself knew not thereof a fortnight after it was done'.
18
But if not Cranmer, who? Chapuys was informed two years later that the marriage was performed by an Augustinian friar, who was rewarded by being made head of his Order. The friar in question has been convincingly identified as George Brown, later Archbishop of Dublin. But a more likely candidate still is Dr Rowland Lee, who became Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield in 1534.
19
Lee figures as celebrant in the account of the marriage given by Nicholas Harpsfield in his
Treatise on the Pretended Divorce between Henry
VIII and Catherine of Aragon
. The
Treatise
was written in the reign of Catherine's daughter Mary, and is a compendium of recusant tradition. It is, of course, bitterly hostile to Anne and Henry and, other things being equal, I would be inclined to discount its evidence. Harpsfield's account also contains one assertion which can be verified independently and which, at first sight, seems to be wrong.
Harpsfield claims that the marriage ceremony took place 'at Whitehall', as York Place soon became known. But the manuscript itinerary of Henry VIII in the Public Record Office shows the King to have remained at Greenwich for the whole of January 1533. However, on closer examination, it becomes clear that the compilers of the itinerary had failed to notice Bonner's letter to Benet. This shows, incontrovertibly, that Henry
was
at York Place overnight on Friday/Saturday, 24/25 January. It was, it is true, a brief visit. The King had not left Greenwich till late enough on the 24th to have signed a warrant before his departure, and he was back there soon enough on the 25th to sign another. But, brief though the visit was, it gave quite enough time for one of the most momentous acts of his life – and of Anne's.
20