[Sidenote: He exhibits his reluctance to the lady, but in vain.]
[Sidenote: He must put his neck into the yoke,]
[Sidenote: And marries Tuesday, January 6]
Cromwell carried the answer to Henry; and it was miserably unwelcome. "I have been ill-handled," he said. "If it were not that she is come so far into England, and for fear of making a ruffle in the world, and _driving her brother into the Emperor and French king's hands, now being together_, I would never have her. But now it is too far gone; wherefore I am sorry."[546] As a last pretext for hesitation, he sent to Anne herself to desire a protest from her that she was free from contracts; a proof of backwardness on the side of the king might, perhaps, provoke a corresponding unwillingness. But the impassive constitution of the lady would have been proof against a stronger hint. The protest was drawn and signed with instant readiness. "Is there no remedy," Henry exclaimed, "but that I must needs, against my will, put my neck into this yoke?" There was none. It was inevitable. The conference at Paris lay before him like a thunder-cloud. The divorce of Catherine and the crimes of Anne Boleyn had already created sufficient scandal in Europe. At such a moment he durst not pass an affront upon the Germans, which might drive them also into a compromise with his other enemies. He gathered up his resolution. As the thing was to be done, it might be done at once; delay would not make the bitter dose less unpalatable; and the day remained fixed for the date of its first postponement--Tuesday, the 6th of January. As he was preparing for the sacrifice, he called Cromwell to him in the chamber of presence: "My lord," he said openly, "if it were not to satisfy the world and my realm, I would not do that I must do this day for none earthly thing."
[Sidenote: His dislike increases to aversion, and his hope of children is frustrated.]
The marriage was solemnized. A last chance remained to the Privy Seal and to the eager prelates who had trembled in the storm on Barham Down, that the affection which could not precede the ceremony might perhaps follow it. But the tide had turned against the Reformers; and their contrivances to stem the current were not of the sort which could be allowed to prosper. Dislike was confirmed into rooted aversion. The instinct with which the king recoiled from Anne settled into a defined resolution. He was personally kind to her. His provocations did not tempt him into discourtesy; but, although she shared his bed, necessity and inclination alike limited the companionship to a form; and Henry lamented to Cromwell, who had been the cause of the calamity, that "surely he would never have any more children for the comfort of the realm."[547]