rs, who had come over with the
expectation of seeing the victory in England of the theologians who
were friendly to them, find themselves deceived! They still however
cherished the hope that these resolutions would never be carried out.
Their ground for hope lay in the King's marriage with a German
Protestant princess, which was just then being arranged.

Some years before Anne Boleyn had fallen a victim to a dreadful fate.
How had the King extolled her shortly before his marriage as a mirror
of purity, modesty and maidenliness! hardly two years afterwards he
accused her of adultery under circumstances which, if they were true,
would make her one of the most depraved creatures under the sun. If
we go through the statements that led to her condemnation, it is
difficult to think them complete fictions: they have been upheld quite
recently. If on the other hand we read the letter, so full of high
feeling and inward truthfulness, in which Anne protests her innocence
to the King, we cannot believe in the possibility of the
transgressions for which she had to die. I can add nothing further to
what has been long known, except that the King, soon after her
coronation, in November 1533, already showed a certain discontent with
her.[134] Was it after all not right in the eyes of the jealous
autocrat that his former wife's lady in waiting now as Queen wore the
crown as well as himself? Anne Boleyn too might not be without blame
in her demeanour which was not troubled by any strict rule. Or did it
seem to the King a token of the divine displeasure against this
marriage also, that Anne Boleyn in her second confinement brought a
stillborn son into the world? It has been always said that the lively
interest she took in the progress of the outspoken Protestantism,
whose champions were almost all her personal friends, contributed most
to her fall. For the house from which she sprung she certainly in this
respect went too far. In the midst of religious and political parties,
pursued by suspicion and slander, and in herself too tormented by
jealousy, endangered rather than guarded by the possession of the
highest dignity, she fell into a state of excitement bordering on
madness.

On the day after her execution the King married one of her maids of
honour, the very same who had awakened her jealousy, Jane Seymour. She
indeed brought him the son for whom his soul longed, but she died in
her confinement.

In the rivalry of parties Cromwel