The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [110]
Still, Cranmer looked back at me unblinkingly. Really, there were times when he annoyed me.
“Keep her as a mistress. Mistresses are allowed by the True Church; wives are not.”
“Does that not strike you as hypocritical, Your Grace?” Again, the quiet question.
Now I lost all patience. “God’s blood! Are you a Reformer? Do you intend to turn on me after you are in office? To become a Protestant Becket? Because if you have such intentions, my dear Thomas, I warn you: you will not succeed. I will not tolerate betrayal. So speak now—declare yourself. Do not practise the hypocrisy of which you are so intolerant in others.”
A long pause-too long. Then: “I am your man.”
“Good.” The cloying fragrance was still in the air. I wanted to get away from it. “Come. Let us sit over here, in the morning light.” I led him to a sunny window-seat. “It is complicated,” I began.
“Do not condescend to me, Your Grace.”
He was right; that was what I had been doing. I began again. “Our goal is that you replace the Pope as the highest spiritual authority in England. Thus, a decision made by you cannot be appealed over your head to the Pope. To do that, we must sever certain connections with Rome. Parliament is doing just that.”
“How? By what authority?”
“By its own authority. By what authority, after all, did Rome first assert her jurisdiction here in England? By her own. Yes! This whole intricate structure of the Church that you see in England-the cathedrals, the abbeys, the parish priests, the wandering, preaching friars, the monasteries—all rest on such a flimsy base of authority. Rome’s say-so! Which Parliament will now examine and repudiate.”
“With what specific laws?”
Ah! His mind now quickened to the legal, canonical subtleties of the issue. Good. Let him lose himself there. I smiled. “Two.” He looked surprised. “Only two. The first: the Act Forbidding Appeals to Rome. The second: an act providing for the nomination and consecration of bishops without consulting Rome first. I have not thought of a name for this one yet-something innocuous, I hope.”
“I see. Rome will not have the power to name the clergy in England, nor to pass judgment on its subsequent actions. Rome will be impotent.”
Why must he use that word? “Just so.”
“Why should Parliament agree to pass such laws?” he asked blandly.
“Because I have lulled them into believing the laws are as innocuous as their titles. I have gone to great lengths to paint a picture of myself hand-in-glove with Clement. Would such a loyal son do anything to harm his spiritual father? Of course not. These laws are but trifling mae window-seat and rubbed his forehead. “You are making a mistake,” he said, with great sadness.
Now I must listen to yet another “warning.” I was beginning to accept it as one of the occupational hazards of kingship. I sighed and waited.
“To use Parliament thus is to grant them a power you will regret. If they have the power to confer a right, they also have the power to take it away. Should they decide to do so later, and by your own will the Pope is divested of moral, ecclesiastical, and legal authority in England, to whom will you turn for support? You are making Parliament King in England. I fear that, Your Grace. You are taking away a distant, inconsistent, but morally based ruling partner and replacing it with a nearby secular one.”
Was that all? “I can manage Parliament,” I scoffed. “It is a child in my hands.”
“Children grow up, Your Grace. And when your son is but a child, Parliament will be his elder brother. Who will rule then?”
“I do not intend to let Parliament grow out