The King had appointed Sir Thomas More to replace Wolsey as Lord Chancellor.
Anne had heard much about More’s probity as a lawyer, and his outstanding scholarship. She had met him on several occasions, for Henry prized him as a friend. He was an upright man, but a dangerous one, for when More spoke, the whole world listened. His opinions were heeded and respected, because he held them without fear or favor.
Henry had for some time been earnestly persuading Sir Thomas to agree that his marriage was invalid.
“If he agrees to support me, it will add great weight to my case,” he had told Anne. “Even the Pope will listen.”
But always, after seeing More, Henry came back dejected. “I still cannot induce him to agree with me,” he lamented, as they walked through the gardens, cloaked and gloved against the November chill. The fact that he was sad rather than angry was a measure of his love for More.
“What did you say to him?” Anne asked, more sharply than she had intended.
“I told him I did not wish him to do or utter anything that went against his conscience; I said he must first look to God, and after God to me.”
And this was meant to be inducement!
“At least he has accepted the chancellorship,” Henry went on. “He didn’t want it, but I told him I needed men like him.”
Anne could not agree. “Is it wise to appoint a man who is opposed to you in the most important matter of all?” she asked.
“Darling, fear not. Thomas and I have agreed that I will leave him out of my Great Matter, and he will not interfere. And I have made it clear to him that, because of that, his power as chancellor will be limited. Your uncle of Norfolk, as President of the Council, will be in overall charge, and my lord of Suffolk will be his deputy.”
That at least was good news. And above them all would be—herself! She had the King’s ear, so Norfolk and Suffolk would have no influence except what it pleased her to allow them. With this in mind, she found it possible to put on a smiling face when Henry invited Sir Thomas More to dine with them in his privy chamber to celebrate his friend’s advancement. More greeted her very affably, considering that he had long been a friend of the Queen and must have sat at this same table with Katherine and Henry on several occasions. If he was discountenanced to find Anne here, he did not show it. At dinner he displayed a merry wit, and such a wise and learned grasp of affairs that she could see why he drew people to him and was universally liked and admired.
Anne wanted to know where this great man stood in relation to the cause of religious reform. “Sir Thomas, have you ever read William Tyndale’s translation of the Bible?” she asked.
“I have, Mistress Anne,” he said. Turning to Henry he added, “Your Grace knows that Bishop Tunstall gave me permission to read heretical books.”
“You are the one man I would trust to do so,” Henry smiled. “Thomas is hot on heresy,” he told Anne.
“Tyndale’s Bible is not heresy, sir,” Anne declared. “It puts forth the truth for ordinary people to read in their own tongue.”
“I’m afraid that’s not quite the case,” More said gently. “Tyndale did not scruple to change the text to conceal the truth. It pains me to say it, Mistress Anne, but he and that firebrand, Robert Barnes, are constantly pouring out abuse against the Church, the Sacraments, and the Mass. And if they are allowed to continue, and books like theirs are made freely available, heresy will spread unchecked, make no mistake, and confusion and misery will overwhelm this kingdom. We are seeing the greatest attack on the Church that England has ever known.”
She supposed she should have anticipated such an answer. It was no secret that More held conservative views. “But would you not agree that everyone should have the right to read the Scriptures—properly translated, of course—in English?” she persisted.
“I’m afraid not. Mistress Anne, would you have the word of God interpreted by ignorant folk?”
“I would rather a simple ploughman could read it and make up his own mind than see the Church continue to manipulate the Bible to its own ends.”
“My companion here has become a theologian,” Henry jested.
Anne simmered. She would not be patronized!
“And a very good one,” More said kindly. “They could do with such rhetoric in Rome.”
“I spoke from the heart,” Anne said, her voice like steel. “These are things that matter to many people.”
“Indeed they do,” More replied, “but it is perhaps better to leave such matters to those who understand them best. His Grace here is greatly learned in theology. He would never let anyone fall into heresy.”
“Am I a heretic, then, for wanting the Bible to be read in English?”
“Darling, Thomas did not mean that,” Henry pacified her.
Oh, but he did, she thought. It was no secret that he loathed heretics. He would burn them all if he could.
“Not at all,” More smiled, but his eyes had grown cold. “Yet you should know that it is heresy to read the Scriptures in English.”
“It is,” Henry agreed, “and I mean to stamp out heresy in my realm.”
“In that your Grace will have my full support,” More said.
Anne subsided. The men had taken over the conversation. There was no point in her saying anything. But she would have her moment. She might have made an enemy of More this day—she was not deceived by his friendly manner—but she would triumph in the end. And to do that, it was all the more important that Henry make her his Queen—and soon.
—
Whitehall Palace was crawling with a great army of workmen, but Henry insisted on moving in at the beginning of November, in time for him to open Parliament. Some of the magnificent apartments he had assigned to Anne were already habitable—he had been visiting the palace almost daily and harrying the builders—and she was able to occupy them, with her mother there to deflect any gossip.
Many more ladies and servants had been engaged to attend her. Anne had felt obliged to ask George’s wife to serve her, and was surprised when she accepted. From now on, she resolved, she would watch Jane for any signs of loose behavior, but there were none. Jane was just her usual withdrawn self, especially when George was visiting. You could feel the animosity between them.
From the grooms and ushers who now served her, Anne selected men she could trust to be her eyes and ears at court. Out of livery, they could mingle unobtrusively in the throng of courtiers and servants, listen to gossip, engage in outwardly idle conversation, and keep her informed of things she ought to know.