ion,
interdict, and the Nun of Kent, towards the object which his country's
interests, as well as his own, required.

It would have been well if his private behaviour as a man had been as
unobjectionable as his conduct as a sovereign. Hitherto he had remained
under the same roof with Queen Catherine, but with that indelicacy which
was the singular blemish on his character, he had maintained her rival in
the same household with the state of a princess,[333] and needlessly
wounded feelings which he was bound to have spared to the utmost which his
duty permitted. The circumstances of the case, if they were known to us,
though they could never excuse such a proceeding, might perhaps partially
palliate it. Catherine was harsh and offensive, and it was by her own
determination, and not by Henry's desire, that she was unprovided with an
establishment elsewhere. There lay, moreover, as I have said, behind the
scenes a whole drama of contention and bitterness, which now is happily
concealed from us; but which being concealed, leaves us without the clue to
these painful doings. Indelicate, however, the position given to Anne
Boleyn could not but be; and, if it was indelicate in Henry to grant such a
position, what shall we say of the lady who consented, in the presence of
her sovereign and mistress, to wear such ignominious splendour?

But in these most offensive relations there was henceforth to be a change.
In June, 1531, two months after the prorogation of parliament, a deputation
of the privy council went to the apartments of Catherine at Greenwich, and
laying before her the papers which had been read by Sir Thomas More to the
two Houses, demanded formally, whether, for the sake of the country, and
for the quiet of the king's conscience, she would withdraw her appeal to
Rome, and submit to an arbitration in the kingdom. It was, probably, but an
official request, proposed without expectation that she would yield. After
rejecting a similar entreaty from the pope himself, she was not likely,
inflexible as she had ever been, to yield when the pope had admitted her
appeal, and the emperor, victorious through Europe, had promised her
support. She refused, of course, like herself, proudly, resolutely,
gallantly, and not without the scorn which she was entitled to feel. The
nation had no claims upon her, and "for the king's conscience," she
answered, "I pray God send his Grace good quiet therein, and tell him I say
I am his lawful wi