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Title: The History of Mary I, Queen of England

Author: J. M. Stone

Release date: March 29, 2018 [eBook #56875]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HISTORY
OF MARY I, QUEEN OF ENGLAND ***

THE HISTORY
OF

MARY I., QUEEN OF ENGLAND

THE PRINCESS MARY.
From the original portrait in the Gallery of the University, Oxford.

THE HISTORY OF

MARY I.

QUEEN OF ENGLAND

AS FOUND IN THE

PUBLIC RECORDS, DESPATCHES OF AMBASSADORS
IN ORIGINAL PRIVATE LETTERS, AND OTHER
CONTEMPORARY DOCUMENTS

BY

J. M. STONE

LONDON
SANDS & CO.
12 BURLEIGH STREET, STRAND, W.C.
1901

PREFACE.
At a time when prejudiced historical verdicts are being largely revised,
and when it is universally admitted that history must be studied on broader
and more discriminating lines than heretofore, the restatement of the case
for our first Queen Regnant scarcely needs an apology.
Two books, one The Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary, with an
Introductory Memoir by Sir Frederick Madden, some time Keeper of the
Manuscripts in the British Museum, and the other, The Life of Jane Dormer,
Duchess of Feria, edited by the Rev. Joseph Stevenson, from the original
manuscript in the possession of Lord Dormer, first revealed Queen Mary to
me as an attractive and sympathetic personality. Subsequent diligent
examination of documents relating to her life and reign, scattered about the
various archives of Europe, has not belied that impression, but has further
shown that more interest attaches to her dire struggle with the difficulties
which beset her than has generally been supposed.
This material has proved to be extremely rich and abundant, especially as
regards the archives of Venice, Austria, Belgium and England. The valuable
papers formerly at Brussels have, it is true, disappeared, but fortunately we
are provided with transcripts of them in the Record Office. And where the
despatches of ambassadors, those of Giustinian, Chapuys, Renard, Michiel,
de Noailles, Surian and others, drop the thread of the story, our own
chroniclers, Stowe, Holinshed, Machyn, Wriothesley, Foxe, etc., take it up,
so that an almost continuous narrative is formed, reaching from Mary’s
earliest childhood to her death.
I have endeavoured, where possible, to give the story in the words of
each individual ambassador or annalist, in order to preserve, if it might be,
the atmosphere of the times, in a manner unattainable by our modern
phraseology. In most instances, I have been careful to reproduce even the
eccentricities of the spelling in the English documents quoted, but in others,
where I have given somewhat lengthy extracts from our chroniclers, the
spelling has been modernised to avoid tedium.

It has not come within the scope of the present work to deal exhaustively
with Mary’s correspondence, and many of her most interesting letters have
been unavoidably omitted, preference being given to those which relate to
the more crucial points in her history.
One word may not be out of place here, as to the now fully recognised
necessity of bringing historical imagination to bear upon any period under
consideration; for unless we throw ourselves into the spirit, the views, the
interests of that period, we shall utterly fail to form a correct notion of its
merits and its short-comings. The thoughts and opinions, the virtues and
vices of the sixteenth century are not those of our own day, and the only
way in which we can form a just estimate of them is by divesting ourselves
of every preconceived notion, and by judging each individual case
according to the standard which then prevailed. Whether, bearing this
necessity in mind, and with the colours at my disposal, I have succeeded in
painting a picture vivid enough to supersede the old traditional, but
generally spurious, portraits of Queen Mary, I must leave to the kind
judgment of my readers.
J. M. S.
April, 1901.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I
Page

Birth and Childhood—Early Marriage Projects. 1516-
1525 1

CHAPTER II
Princess of Wales. 1525-1527 23

CHAPTER III
The Beginning of Strife. 1527-1533 35

CHAPTER IV
Via Dolorosa. 1533-1536 62

CHAPTER V
The Great Renunciation. 1536 96

CHAPTER VI
After the Storm. 1536-1537 131

CHAPTER VII
The Desire of All Eyes. 1537-1547 155

CHAPTER VIII

The King’s Sister. 1547-1553 187

CHAPTER IX
The Coming of the Queen. 1553 215

CHAPTER X
Against the Tide. July-December 1553 233

CHAPTER XI
The Coming of the King. January-July 1554 270

CHAPTER XII
Philip and Mary. July 1554-August 1555 315

CHAPTER XIII
The Martyrs. 352

CHAPTER XIV
The Forsaken Queen. 394

CHAPTER XV
War. 1556-1558 430

CHAPTER XVI
At Eventide. 1558 459

CHAPTER XVII
Veritas Temporis Filia. 476

Appendix 493
Index 525

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

1. The Princess Mary. From the original
portrait in the Gallery of the
University, Oxford Frontispiece
2. Katharine of Arragon. From a fine
original in miniature by Holbein,
formerly in Horace Walpole’s
Collection at Strawberry Hill 47
3. Sir Thomas More, Lord Chancellor of
England. From the original portrait by
Holbein 74
4. The Princess Mary. From the original
drawing by Holbein, in the possession
of the Marquis of Exeter 136
5. The Princess Mary at the Age of
Twenty-eight. From the original
painting in the National Portrait
Gallery 186
6. Facsimile of a Letter Written in the
Princess Mary’s Own Hand 192
7. The Princess Mary. From the original
portrait in the possession of the
Marquis of Exeter 212
8. Queen Mary. From the portrait by Sir
Antonio More, at Madrid 263
9. Philip II. From the original portrait by
Adrian van der Werff 320

10. Cardinal Reginald Pole, Archbishop of
Canterbury. From an engraving of a
portrait painted by Sebastiano del
Piombo 408

CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD—EARLY MARRIAGE PROJECTS.
1516-1525.
It was characteristic of the times in which the Princess Mary was born,
that she should be ushered into the world with a pageant. England had but
lately been roused from the lethargy to which the penuriousness of Henry
VII. had condemned it, and good-fellowship, display and revelry were the
order of the day.
Music and masquerades delighted the young King, and were a fitting
background to his florid beauty, brilliant talents and sanguine temperament.
The country, in its recoil from the asceticism of parsimony, no less than
from the asceticism of mediæval piety, was well content to amuse itself, and
Christmas revels, April jollities and May-day masques were supplemented
by tilting at the ring, feasting and tournaments, that made the whole year
round a “playing holiday”.
But the desire of the nation was an heir to the greatness, wealth and glory
which the English people rejoiced to see centred in their eighth Henry.
Three times had their hope been doomed to disappointment, when on the
19th February[1] 1516, Katharine of Arragon gave birth to a daughter. The
universal satisfaction was scarcely lessened by the fact that the infant was
not the longed-for prince, and in an ecstasy of joy, the Londoners lighted
bonfires, roasted oxen whole, and caused the wine to flow merrily in the
streets.
Two days later, the Princess, nearly the whole of whose life was to be so
great a contrast to its rosy dawn, was baptised with much circumstance and
pomp at Greenwich. From the palace gates to the church of the Friars
Observants, the well-gravelled path was strewn with rushes, and hung with
arras. At the great doors of the church a pavilion covered with tapestry had
been erected, and here the child waited with her sponsors to receive the
preliminary rites before being carried into the sacred building. Then the

procession was formed, and swept through the grand entrance, only used on
the most solemn occasions.
The church was resplendent with cloth of gold, precious stones, pearl
embroideries, and tapestries from the famous looms of Europe. First walked
a goodly array of the nobility, preceding the silver font, brought the day
before from Canterbury,[2] and carried by the Earl of Devon, supported by
Lord Herbert of Cherbury. The taper was held by the Earl of Surrey, the salt
by the Marquis, the chrism by the Marchioness of Dorset. The Lord
Chamberlain followed, with the Lord Steward on his right, and under a rich
canopy, held by four knights, was the royal infant, in the arms of the
Countess of Surrey. On each side of her walked the Dukes of Norfolk and
Suffolk. The sponsors at the font were the Cardinal of York (Wolsey), the
Lady Katharine, sister of the Prince of Castile (afterwards Charles V.) and
the Duchess of Norfolk. Immediately after the baptism followed the
bishoping or rite of confirmation, at which the Countess of Salisbury, the
celebrated Margaret Plantagenet, daughter of the Duke of Clarence, was
sponsor. By her descent from Edward IV. she was a near kinswoman of
Mary’s, and was appointed her governess or principal guardian, next to the
king and queen.
The Te Deum was sung by the King’s chaplain, after which Mary’s style
was proclaimed by the heralds:—
“God give good life and long unto the right high, right noble and right
excellent Princess Mary, Princess of England, and daughter of our
sovereign lord the King,” etc.
The Venetian ambassador, Sebastian Giustinian, to whose letter we owe
the account of the royal christening, makes no mention of the King as
having taken part in the procession, but it is probable that Henry witnessed
the ceremony from the royal closet, which connected the church of the
friars with the palace. The chronicler also omits to say by whom the
sacraments of baptism and confirmation were administered, a curious
oversight, as the Archbishops of Armagh and Dublin, as well as the Bishops
of Durham and Chester, and the Cardinal-Archbishop of York, were present.
[3]
When Giustinian congratulated Henry on the birth of his daughter, in the

name of the Council of Ten, adding, however, that the Signory would have
been better pleased if the child had been a son, the King replied:—
“We are both young. If it is a daughter this time, by the grace of God, the
sons will follow.”[4]
Giustinian’s despatches are pæans in Henry’s honour. Who so renowned
as the King of England! He is not only “very expert in arms, most excellent
in bodily endowments” of every description, but he is also adorned with
mental accomplishments far beyond the average. And the admiration of the
envoy is not merely general, but detailed. Sagudino, his secretary, writing
from the court at Richmond, where he spent a week, together with
Giustinian, says that in the evening, they enjoyed hearing the King play and
sing, and seeing him dance, and run at the ring by day, “in all which
exercises he acquitted himself divinely”. He spoke English, French and
Latin, understood Italian, and played almost every instrument. It was the
prettiest thing in the world to see him play tennis, “his fair skin glowing
through a shirt of the finest texture”. On hearing that Francis I., his great
rival, wore a beard, although it was not the English fashion, Henry allowed
his own to grow, and as it was of a reddish colour, he is described as having
“gotten himself a beard that looks like gold”.[5]
“Is the King of France as tall as I am?” he asked of Pasqualigo, the
Venetian envoy to the French Court, who had special instructions to bring
about a friendship between Henry and Francis, who was the sworn ally of
the Republic of Venice.
Pasqualigo answered diplomatically, that there was little difference in
height between them, although Henry was in reality much taller than
Francis.
“Is he stout?”
The envoy replied that he was not.
“What sort of legs has he?”
“Spare,” answered Pasqualigo guardedly; upon which Henry opened the
front of his doublet, clapped his hand on his thigh, and exclaimed: “Look
here, I have a good calf to my leg”.[6]

Pasqualigo was to return to France, and before his departure, Henry took
part in a tournament, in which he is declared to have looked “like St.
George on horseback”. Sagudino adds slyly, “the king exerted himself to
the utmost, that Pasqualigo might make a good report of his prowess to
Francis,” and he “never saw so beautiful a sight”.[7]
Henry’s love of learning, his knowledge of theology, his piety, are still
more praised. Were it not for the little saving-clause concerning his jealousy
of the King of France, and one or two youthful indiscretions, one might ask
in vain for a sign of human frailty. He heard three Masses a day, when he
hunted, and on other days, often four or five. He followed Vespers and
Compline every day in the queen’s closet. Of the regularity with which he
despatched business we have still proofs, in the papers belonging to this
period in the Record Office.
But corruptio optimi pessima, and Wolsey is mainly responsible for his
degeneration, by exercising an almost boundless influence over the King, to
flatter his already inordinate vanity. The Venetians were meanwhile so
much dazzled by Henry’s brilliant qualities, that they had little admiration
left for the Queen. Sagudino dismisses her with the disparaging remark,
“she is rather ugly than otherwise,” and the ambassador himself says, “she
is not handsome, but has a very beautiful complexion, is very religious, and
as virtuous as words can express”.[8] Gerard de Pleine, in a letter to
Margaret of Savoy, describes her as of a lively and gracious disposition,
quite the opposite of her sister, Joan of Arragon.[9] Her music and dancing
were admired, and it was said that she read, wrote and composed in English
much better and more correctly than half the ladies of her court. To this
Erasmus adds his testimony and says, “Katharine is not only a miracle of
learning, but is not less pious than learned”.[10] She was a tertiary of St.
Francis, and wore a religious habit under her ordinary dress. Lord Herbert
of Cherbury remarks on her virtue and sweet disposition.[11] But to
appreciate qualities such as the Queen’s needed more than the rather
superficial discernment of Giustinian and his companions, who were so
much struck with the pomp and glitter of the English court, that its real
worth almost escaped their notice. Erasmus declared that in its serious
aspects, it was “more like a museum than a court”.

During the first years of their marriage, the King and Queen had lived
together in almost perfect happiness. Katharine was Henry’s chosen adviser,
the confidante of his state secrets, and the principal negotiatrix between
England and Spain.[12] We have Henry’s own words to prove that the union
was not a mere political one. In a letter written in the highest spirits to
Ferdinand of Arragon, the King declared that his love for his wife was such
that, if he were still free, he would choose her again in preference to all
others.[13] Of Katharine’s wifely devotion to Henry there has never been
any doubt. She adored him, and thought him a paragon of perfection. But
the birth of her daughter threw Katharine henceforth into the shade, and
Wolsey, by his consummate state-craft, rapidly gained an ascendency over
the King.
For years, Mary was the pivot on which the personal advantages of both
King and Chancellor turned, now in one direction, now in another. Her title
of Princess of England was equivalent to that of heiress apparent, and thus
from the moment of her birth, she became an important piece on the chess-
board of European politics. By effecting a brilliant matrimonial alliance for
her, Wolsey conceived that he would enhance his master’s prestige among
his contemporary sovereigns, and pave the way for his own
aggrandisement, always the primum mobile of his schemes.
Before she was a year old, Mary was provided with a household, and
Margaret, Lady Bryan,[14] a woman of sound sense and ability, was
appointed “lady maistress” over it. Her nurse, Katharine Pole, received £26
in March 1517, being half a year’s salary. Her priest, chaplain or clerk of
the closet, Sir Henry Rowte, had a stipend of sixpence a day. Alys Baker, a
gentlewoman of her household, received £10 a year, and to Avis Wood, her
laundress, was paid the sum of thirty-three shillings and four pence, as
wages for six months.[15]
While still in her cradle, the Princess figured in a part she was often
called upon to play afterwards. Henry’s sister, the Queen Dowager of
France, being now married to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, gave birth
to a daughter, and Katharine and Mary were the child’s godmothers. Dignity
followed upon dignity, and before she was two years old Mary was an
important factor in the treaty by which Henry VIII. ceded Tournay to the
French for the sum of 600,000 crowns. The peace between France and

England had been brought about partly through Wolsey’s increasing
influence, partly (the Venetians flattered themselves mainly) through the
tact and diplomacy of Giustinian, sent for that purpose back to England, and
when a Dauphin was expected in 1518, Wolsey eagerly entered into
negotiations with the French King, for the purpose of contracting a union
between Henry’s only daughter and the hoped-for heir to the throne of
France. Giustinian was, however, not so much in Wolsey’s confidence in
this matter as might have been expected from the nature of his embassy to
England, and some time after the birth of the Dauphin he wrote: “The
French secretary has left, and is to be replaced by two great personages, to
conclude, as it is said, a marriage between the Princess Mary and the
Dauphin. The Cardinal will not admit this, but I am convinced of the truth
of it.”
The secret soon oozed out, with the result that Mary was treated with
even greater respect and ceremony than before, being regarded not only as
heiress apparent to the throne of England, but as future Queen of France
also. The Venetian envoys, in reporting to the Doge an interview which they
had had with Henry and Wolsey, on the 28th February 1518, conclude their
account of the audience in these words:—
“After this, the Princess Mary, who is two years old, was brought in. The
Cardinal and Sebastiano kissed her hand pro more, the greatest marks of
honour being paid to her universally, more than to the queen herself. The
moment she cast her eyes on the Reverend Dionysius Memo, who was there
at a little distance, she began calling out in English: ‘Priest, priest,’ and he
was obliged to go and play for her, after which the King, with the Princess
in his arms, came to me and said: ‘Per Deum iste est honestissimus vir et
unus carissimus; nullus unquam servivit mihi fidelius et melius illo;
scribatis Domino vestro quod habeat ipsum commendatum’.”[16]
Dionysius Memo was a musician, sent to Henry by the Doge as his
chaplain and choir-master. Henry’s love of music, which Mary inherited,
insured him a cordial welcome, and Memo took an important part at every
state function. On the occasion of a banquet given by the king to the
Austrian ambassador, to celebrate a league sworn between Henry and his
nephew Charles in 1517, there were amusements of every kind, but
especially instrumental music conducted by Memo, “which lasted for four

consecutive hours to the so great admiration of all the audience, and with
such marks of delight from his Majesty, as to defy exaggeration”. Five days
later, a joust with costly decorations took place, followed by another
banquet, at which no person was seated under the rank of a marquis.
Giustinian is dazzled with the splendour of the repast, and the profusion of
plate, the sideboard being covered with magnificent vessels, said to be all of
gold. This was one of a series of revels and festivities, “but the chief dish”
is always Memo’s music.[17]
On the 3rd October 1518, a general peace was proclaimed at St. Paul’s.
Mass was said by Wolsey with unusual pomp, and the terms of the treaty
between Henry and Francis were read before the high altar.
The King afterwards dined with the Bishop of London, going in the
afternoon to Durham House in the Strand. “From thence,” says the Venetian
ambassador, “the Cardinal of York was followed by the entire company to
his own dwelling, where we sat down to a most sumptuous supper, the like
of which, I fancy, was never given, either by Cleopatra or Caligula, the
whole banqueting-hall being so decorated with huge vases of gold and
silver, that I fancied myself in the tower of Chosroes, where that monarch
caused divine honours to be paid him. After supper, a mummery consisting
of twelve male and female maskers made an appearance, in the richest and
most gorgeous array possible, all being dressed alike. When they had gone
through certain original dances, they took off their masks. The two leaders
of the dance were the King and the Queen Dowager of France. All the
others were lords and ladies of the court. They seated themselves at separate
tables, and were served with countless dishes of confections and other
delicacies. When they had gratified their palates they regaled their eyes and
hands, large bowls filled with ducats and dice being placed on the table for
such as liked to gamble. Then, the supper tables being removed, dancing
began and lasted till after midnight.”
On the 5th, the Princess Mary was formally betrothed to the Dauphin, in
the Queen’s great chamber at Greenwich. Henry stood in front of the
throne, having the Queen on his right, the Dowager Queen of France, his
sister, on his left hand. In front of her mother stood the baby Princess,
dressed in cloth of gold, a cap of black velvet covered with precious stones
on her flaxen head. Facing the royal group were the two legates, Wolsey

and Campeggio. Tunstal, Bishop of London, made an eloquent oration in
praise of matrimony, “which being ended,” says Giustinian, “the most
illustrious Princess was taken in arms, and the magnificos, the French
ambassadors, having asked the consent of the King and Queen, on behalf of
each of the contracting parties, and they having assented, the right reverend
legate, the Cardinal of York, placed on her finger a small ring, juxta digitum
puellæ, but in which a large diamond was set, supposed to be a present from
his right reverend lordship above mentioned; and my lord admiral passed it
over the second joint. The bride was then blessed by the two right reverend
legates, after a long exordium from the Cardinal of York, every possible
ceremony being observed.” They then went to the royal chapel within the
palace, where the King and Bonivet, the French ambassador, in the name of
Francis I., exchanged oaths before the high altar, to observe faithfully the
articles of the treaty. The proceedings ended with Mass, Wolsey being the
officiating prelate. “The choir,” wrote the admiring Venetian, “was
decorated with cloth of gold, and all the court in such rich array, the like of
which I never saw, either here or elsewhere.”
On the 16th, the King at the head of his council promised publicly to
fulfil the marriage contract when the Dauphin should have attained the age
of fourteen, his daughter being sixteen years old, and he desired, if he failed
in his promises that the Cardinal would excommunicate him, and pass
sentence of interdict on his kingdom. Mary was to have a dowry of 100,000
marks, and Francis bound himself, under pain of the censures of the
Church, to contribute one as large as any Queen of France ever had.[18]
At the French court, the betrothal was celebrated with no less elaborate
ritual, in which cloth of gold and silver, jewels, music, flowers, feasting,
compliments and promises played an important part. No one wore any
material less costly than silk. All the English envoys had chains of gold
about their necks, were attired in the most sumptuous fashion, were praised,
banqueted and amused for a whole week, while the King showered gifts
upon them. Never was marriage contract celebrated with greater solemnity.
The expressions of friendship exchanged by the two Kings were profuse.
Henry sent Francis the most flattering messages; Francis doffed his cap, and
kissed Henry’s letters before opening them.

For a few months Henry seems to have considered himself bound by this
contract, or at least, to have seen no reason for breaking it. He told Francis
that if he should die without heirs male, he intended to leave the regency of
England to him, as it would belong to the Princess Mary, who was to marry
his son.[19]
One day, he showed Giustinian with much pride, his young daughter in
her nurse’s arms. The Venetian knelt and kissed her hand, “for that,” said
he, “is alone kissed by any duke or noble of the land, let his degree be what
it may; nor does any one see her without doffing his bonnet, and making
obeisance to her”. Henry then said: “Domine orator, per Deum immortalem
ista puella nunquam plorat,” upon which Giustinian, with ready diplomacy,
replied: “Sacred Majesty, the reason is that her destiny does not move her to
tears; she will one day be Queen of France,” words which, he declared,
“pleased the king vastly”.[20]
Nevertheless, as early as September 1519, steps were taken for adopting
another line of policy altogether, and for transferring Mary’s hand to the
Emperor, Charles V.
The news of the French alliance had greatly disturbed the Spanish
Ministry, for the Emperor’s political complications were many. The King of
France had become, through Charles’s successful candidature for the
empire, his implacable enemy. War was unavoidable, for it behoved the
emperor to secure his overgrown possessions, by every means in his power.
Even alone, Francis constituted a formidable danger, on account of his
pretensions in Italy, but when allied to England, which, thanks to Wolsey’s
foreign policy, was fast emerging from the condition of a third-rate power,
he might threaten the dismemberment of the empire. Moreover, money
would be urgently needed to carry on the war, when Francis should begin
hostilities, and although Charles was already pledged to marry the Princess
Charlotte of France, he was also negotiating a union with the daughter of
the King of Portugal, by which he would receive 80,000 crowns as her
dowry. For the sake of his empty coffers, he was prepared to sell himself to
the highest bidder. He demanded a million ducats with the Princess Mary.
Wolsey offered 80,000, with the understanding that the sums already
advanced by Henry should be deducted therefrom, thus reducing the dowry

to 50,000. Charles was careful not to commit himself. In a pecuniary sense,
the Portuguese Princess was clearly the more desirable, but there remained
the necessity of breaking the Anglo-French alliance. A see-saw policy was,
therefore, his only alternative.
Meanwhile, Mary’s betrothal to the Dauphin was supposed to stand good,
and Charles continued his negotiation with Portugal. Francis was well-
informed by spies of all that went on, and Henry knew that he knew, but all
parties thought well to dissemble. When rumour became too loud to be
disregarded, and the fact of the correspondence between Henry and Charles
leaked out, Henry affected indignation, and warmly protested his loyalty to
the French treaty. Francis replied, with more politeness than truth, that the
King of England need not have troubled himself to disprove the calumny,
for he himself gave it no credence.[21]
In England, public opinion was in favour of the more brilliant marriage.
The nation had never looked with cordiality on the prospect of a French
union. Mary was the future sovereign of England; if she married the
Dauphin, a French monarch would one day be seated on the English throne,
an unpleasant humiliation for those who considered France the rightful
appanage of English kings.
Katharine also naturally inclined to the Spanish match. Although she had
thrown herself heart and soul into the habits, tastes and interests of her
adopted country, she retained a deep love for all that was Spanish. She
never forgot that she was the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and
foreign ambassadors wishing to gain her favour would address her in the
Spanish tongue. Nothing was nearer her heart than a marriage between her
daughter and her nephew. In England, all were eager for the union, but
Charles held back, delaying his promised visit to his relatives almost
beyond the limits of courtesy. Henry was not a little embarrassed, for while
the imperial machinery was being slowly put into motion, Francis, anxious
to outwit his rival, had himself proposed a meeting for the ratification of the
marriage treaty. Henry and Wolsey, on the horns of a dilemma, sought in
vain to postpone the interview indefinitely. Francis was bent on it, and
various dates having been objected to, in the hope that the project would be
abandoned, the 31st of May was at last fixed for their meeting. Whether or
no this action on the part of the French King had any effect on the

Emperor’s policy, Charles at once made up his mind, and landed at Dover
on the 26th. He was received by the Cardinal of York, and Henry, who had
awaited his arrival at Canterbury, rode over to meet him. The next day
being Whitsunday, he escorted him to the city of St. Thomas, “the more to
solempne the Feast of Pentecost; but specially to see the Queen of England,
his aunt, was the intent of the emperor”.[22]
What passed between these three royal personages and Wolsey did not
transpire. A further loan may have been effected, but the public records are
silent on the real object of the visit, and do not even state, whether the
bridegroom in posse saw his proposed bride. On the 31st, he re-embarked at
Sandwich, and the King and Queen, with Wolsey and a brilliant suite,
crossed over to Calais. On landing, they immediately proceeded to Guisnes,
and the same day, Francis arrived at Ardres, about six miles distant.[23]
Descriptions are not wanting of the empty splendours of Field of the
Cloth of Gold. The world had never before witnessed such a scene, such
fantastic devices, such jewels, such cordiality, such fraternal affection
between two Kings. Had Henry and Francis been brothers, meeting after a
long and painful separation, their joy at being reunited could not have been
more expansive. They met in a summer palace of glass, hastily prepared for
the occasion, but covered from roof to floor with white fluted satin, and
relieved by rich hangings of cloth of gold, while pearls and precious stones
of immense value were strewn with oriental prodigality in every direction.
Exquisitely designed fountains ran wine all day, and feats of arms were
followed by costly banquets, at which all the grace and beauty of the two
courts were represented.
Religion and chivalry were still supposed to go hand in hand, and the
magnificence of the King’s temporary palace was only equalled by the
magnificence of his temporary chapel, where gorgeous functions took
place, and sermons were preached, in pompous language, on the blessings
of peace and amity between princes. The whole scene was a dazzling
epitome of the Renaissance. The two Kings parted seemingly on the best of
terms; Henry and Wolsey proceeded to Gravelines to meet the Emperor, and
the three went together to Calais, to plot against the host, at whose hands
Henry had just received such lavish hospitality.

Keen as was Francis’s eye to penetrate diplomatic mysteries, he does not
seem on this occasion to have fathomed the depths of Henry’s capacity for
intrigue, for he hovered about the frontier, vainly hoping to be invited to
join the conference at Calais. Henry had solemnly declared to him that he
entertained no purpose of espousing Mary to the Emperor, and had sworn
eternal friendship with him as his ally and future son-in-law,[24] although
the principal object of his pending conference with Charles, was to discuss
the means of transferring his daughter’s hand from the Dauphin to the
greatest enemy of France.
Meanwhile, the Princess Mary, the innocent object of these plots, was
still happily unconscious of her value in the eyes of politicians. She
remained at Richmond Palace during the absence of the court, and Henry
was kept well informed of her health and occupations. The Duke of Norfolk
wrote to him on the 13th June, that he and the other members of the Council
were, “on Saturday last,” with the Princess, “who, lauded be Almighty God,
is right merry, and in prosperous health and state, daily exercising herself in
virtuous pastimes”.[25] “On St. Peter’s Even,” as the lords of the Council
informed him, “came the three gentlemen of France, of whose arrival they
had notice from the Cardinal, and on Saturday, after dinner, as the tide was
commodious, they being well accompanied by the lord Barnes, lord Darcy,
and another, visited the Princess, at Richmond. There were with her,” they
continue, “divers lords spiritual and temporal, and in the Presence Chamber,
besides the lady governess and her other gentlewomen, the Duchess of
Norfolk,” etc. They go on to say that she “welcomed the French gentlemen
with most goodly countenance, proper communication, and pleasant
pastime in playing on the virginals; and they greatly marvelled and rejoiced
at the same, her young and tender age considered”.[26]
When we consider that this “young and tender age” represented but four
short years, we cannot but feel sorry for the small lady, obliged to entertain
visitors with “proper communication,” instead of amusing herself with her
“rosemary bushes with gold spangles,” her “gold pomanders,” and other
sixteenth century toys, which were continually being brought to her as
presents. The Princess’s Household Book for 1520 informs us that she
regaled those “gentlemen from France” with “four gallons of Ypocras, with

cherries, old apples, wafers, and strawberries, the cost of which amounted
to thirty-five shillings and threepence”.
Tokens were constantly exchanged between the Dauphin and his fiancée.
In January 1521, Sir Peter Carew was sent over to Paris, to condole with
Francis I. on an accident he had met with, and to inquire after his health. He
took with him some rubies as presents, and the French defrayed his
expenses, and prepared “some scents and smocks” for him to take back with
him, as presents to the Princess.[27] According to the existing arrangements,
the Dauphin was to be sent over to England to be brought up in this country
when he was a few years old; but long before the time specified, Mary had
been solemnly affianced to the Emperor, although her marriage-contract
with the Dauphin was never annulled.
Until Mary was twelve years old, her health and education were the
subjects of Henry’s constant solicitude, and apart from the value he set upon
her as an important item in his political schemes, he appears to have
regarded her with affection, as long as there was room in his character for
natural feeling, or any sentiment unconnected with his dominant passions.
The care of her health necessitated her frequent removal from one royal
residence to another, as a precaution against infectious disease, rendered
necessary by the conditions of life in England during the first half of the
sixteenth century. The well-known letter written by Erasmus to Wolsey’s
physician, testifies to the perpetual recurrence of the plague in this country,
which was to be attributed, the writer considered, mainly to the construction
of the houses, full indeed of windows, but as these were not made to open,
light was admitted into the dwellings, but no air. He complains of the chalk
floors and of the rushes laid thereon, but so carelessly renewed, that the
bottom layer often remained for twenty years, harbouring all sorts of offal.
Writing in 1527, Erasmus says that thirty years before, if he entered a
room uninhabited for some months previously, he caught a fever. It would
have been well if some of the money lavished on the adornment of the walls
had been expended on the floors, especially as the habits of the sixteenth
century left much to be desired in point of cleanliness. Some attention was,
however, given to this matter in the royal palaces, but it was of a kind that
involved the removal of the court, whenever a room was to be thoroughly
overhauled; the result of disturbing rushes upon which dogs had been fed

and kennelled for months, and every kind of refuse allowed to rot, may be
better imagined than described. There is little cause for surprise, therefore,
if we hear constantly of fevers, agues and of the sweating sickness, more
deadly than the plague.
On one occasion, news was brought to the court that “one of my lady
princess’s servants was sick of a hot ague” at Enfield, whereupon Henry
ordered that Mary should be taken at once to Byssham Abbey, remain there
one day, and arrive at the More the day following. Even when the servant
recovered, Mary was not allowed to return to Enfield. In August 1520, we
find that “my lady princess will be sent to Richmond again, on account of
the reports of the sickness at Woodstock”.
The excellent Lady Bryan having ceased in 1521, to occupy the position
of governess of Mary’s household, Secretary Pace wrote to Wolsey that as
the King intended leaving Windsor shortly, and as he would have no
convenient lodging for the Princess, he desired Wolsey to think of some
lady fit to give attendance on her. The King thought that the old Lady
Oxford would be suitable, if she could be persuaded, if not, Lady Calthorpe,
and her husband to be chamberlain to the Princess. Accordingly, Lady
Oxford was invited to occupy the vacant post.
Wolsey describes her as “right discreet, and of a good age, and near at
hand,” and she could at least “be tried for a season, if she did not decline on
the score of health”. Apparently she did decline, for instead of Lady Oxford,
we find Sir Philip Calthorpe and his wife appointed to attend on the
Princess, and govern her house, with a salary of £40 a year.[28]
On the 29th July 1521, a commission was appointed to conclude a treaty
for Mary’s marriage with the Emperor for which a dispensation was to be
obtained from the Pope on account of their near relationship. This treaty
was concluded, signed and sealed on the 24th November of the same year,
on which day also, Francis I., writing to his ambassador in London, remarks
that the contract between the Princess of England and the Dauphin is to
remain in its entirety,[29] a curious satire on the good faith of princes.
Moreover, while Francis thus proclaimed the peace and amity supposed to
exist between himself and Henry, Charles was stipulating with Henry for a
descent to be made by the English on the shores of France, not later than

March, 1522. A fleet was to be provided by both parties, each contributing
3,000 men. It would be possible to regard Francis with some pity, as a
miserable dupe, were it not for his own propensity for the same amount of
false swearing. By February, he was in possession of the facts, but for some
reason or other, war was not declared till June. On the 6th May, Contarini,
the Venetian envoy, was able to inform the Signory of Mary’s approaching
betrothal to the Emperor, adding that Henry was about to send a gentleman
to France, to repudiate the French treaty.
On the 27th, Charles landed at Dover, and was received on the sands by
Wolsey, attended by 300 nobles, knights and gentlemen. Leaning on the
Cardinal’s arm, the Emperor proceeded to Dover Castle, where he remained
for two days, being joined by Henry. On the road to Canterbury, and thence
to Greenwich, they were greeted by the people with every demonstration of
joy, the English looking upon Charles as the monarch of the world, and
feeling flattered by his condescension in wedding a daughter of England.[30]
At the great gates of Greenwich Palace stood the Queen and her daughter
Mary, now six years old, to welcome him. The Emperor dropped on one
knee, and asked Katharine’s blessing, “having,” says the chronicler Hall,
“great joy to see the queen, his aunt, and in especiall his young cousin
germain, the lady Mary”.
All who saw Mary at this time spoke favourably of her appearance. “She
promises,” said Martin de Salinas, “to become a handsome lady, although it
is difficult to form an idea of her beauty, as she is still so small.” Others
describe her as a fair child, with a profusion of flaxen ringlets, and the
admiration of all.
The usual revels were held in honour of the Emperor’s visit. The court
removed to London, and Charles was magnificently lodged at Blackfriars.
But he seems to have regarded the prodigality displayed with Hapsburg
seriousness, if not with absolute disapproval. He was urgently in need of
money, and would doubtless have been better pleased with a fresh loan,
than with all that was done in his honour. At all events, the sombre
stateliness of Windsor was more in accordance with his taste and humour,
and he was altogether in his native element when the terms of the treaty
were at last discussed. These included: (1) a settlement of the differences
between the Emperor and Francis; (2) a marriage contract between the

Emperor and the Princess Mary; (3) a league between the Emperor and
Henry for making war upon France, and for recovering the territory which
the English had lost in that country. A clause was inserted, to the effect that
Mary should be sent to Spain to finish her education, when she was twelve
years old.[31] The treaty of Windsor was signed on the 19th June, but was
not then published, and “peace with France was dissembled”. Other things
were dissembled also; and, although Mary was brought to Windsor, to take
leave of her imperial cousin as his future bride, Wolsey soon discovered that
no reliance could be placed on the Emperor’s words or promises, and that,
as far as Charles was concerned, the whole negotiation and the treaty of
Windsor itself were nothing but a political fiction, in order to alarm Francis.
But indeed, in a competition of duplicity between Charles, Henry, Francis
and Wolsey, it would be rash to speculate as to which of them would have
borne the palm. Wolsey played a particularly odious part, inasmuch as he
not only convinced Francis that he was anxious for the French alliance, but
he was moreover in receipt of a yearly pension from him. Meanwhile, the
determination of the Princess Isabella of Portugal to marry Charles served
to further complicate matters. She took for her motto the trenchant device,
Aut Cæsar aut nihil,[32] and the grandees of Spain threw their weight into
the scale with her, urging the Emperor to marry her, with whom he would
receive a million of gold, and not the English Princess, “about whom he
thought less than of the first named”.[33] Still Charles hesitated, or affected
to hesitate, and writing to Wolsey from Valladolid, the 10th February 1523,
he begs to have news of the King: “et de ma mieulx aimee fiancee la
Princesse, future Imperatrix”.[34] But much as Henry held to the fulfilment
of the contract, he had no longer any real hope of it, and began to look for
other possible alliances. It was thought in France that the Dauphin would
soon be crowned, and that then he would marry the English princess,[35] but
Gonzolles, the French ambassador in Scotland, wrote to the Duke of
Albany: “The King of England has promised to give his daughter in
marriage to the King of Scots, with a large pension, and proclaim him
prince of his kingdom if they can agree”.
Henry would nevertheless have much preferred giving her to the
Emperor, if by any means Charles could be persuaded to keep to his
engagements, and he sent Tunstal, Bishop of London, and Sir Richard

Wingfield, as extraordinary ambassadors to Spain, with orders to promote
the marriage in every possible way.
In April 1525, Mary sent Charles an emerald with a curious message,
showing that she was still taught to consider herself his promised bride.
“Her Grace,” so ran the letter which accompanied the gift, “hath devised
this token, for a better knowledge to be had, when God shall send them
grace to be together, whether his Majesty do keep himself as continent and
chaste as with God’s grace she woll, whereby ye may say, his Majesty may
see that her assured love towards the same hath already such operation in
her, that it is also confirmed by jealousy, being one of the greatest signs and
tokens of hearty love and cordial affection.”[36]
After the victory of Pavia, Charles, no longer in fear of Francis, declared
openly that he owed nothing to the help of his allies, and released himself
from his pledges to Henry by the very extravagance of his demands. He
sent a commission to Wolsey requiring that Mary should be sent to Spain at
once, with a dowry of 400,000 ducats, and 200,000 crowns besides, to
defray the expenses of the war with France. Nothing was said about the
sums he had borrowed from Henry, while the whole transaction was in
direct violation of the terms of the treaty of Windsor. The Cardinal replied
that the Princess was still too young to be given up, and that the Spaniards
had no hostages to offer that could be sufficient security for her, whom the
English people looked upon as the treasure of the kingdom. The envoys
whom the Emperor sent in return, in paying their respects to the King and
Queen, were permitted to address “a short peroration in Latin to the
Princess, to which she replied in the same tongue, with as much assurance
and facility as if she were twelve years old,” and she did and said, they
added, “many other gracious things on the occasion, of which they purpose
giving an account at a future time”.[37] But the moment for fair speeches
and compliments had gone by. Charles demanded that Henry should either
agree to his conditions, or release him from his oath, “for all Spain”
compelled him “to contract a marriage with Portugal”. Henry told him
roundly that he would give him his daughter when she was of proper age,
but no increase of dowry.[38] “If,” continued the King of England, “he
should seek a maistress for hyr, to frame hyr after the manner of Spayne,
and of whom she might take example of virtue, he shulde not find in all

Christendome a more mete than she now hath, that is the Quene’s grace, her
mother, who is comen of the house of Spayne, and who for the affection she
bereth the Emperour, will norishe and bring hyr up as maybe hereafter to
his most contentacion.”[39]
At the same time Tunstal and Wingfield represented that, as the Princess
was not much more than nine years old, it might greatly endanger her health
to be transported into an air so different from that of England. In replying
more particularly to the Emperor’s statement, that his subjects wished him
to marry the Portuguese Princess, Mary being still of tender age, Henry,
seeing that nothing was to be gained by a breach with his nephew-in-law,
told him that the Princess his daughter was still young; she was his own
treasure and that of his kingdom; she was not of age to be married;[40] that
the demands of the Spanish people seemed reasonable, and that desiring
always to preserve the Emperor’s friendship, he consented to the
Portuguese alliance under three conditions. These were: (1) that peace
should be made with France; (2) that the Emperor should pay his debts to
Henry; (3) that the treaties of Windsor and London should be annulled.[41]
The treaty of Windsor was rescinded on the 6th July 1525, and on the
22nd was signed the marriage contract between Charles V. and Isabella of
Portugal. But the Emperor did not pay his debts, and henceforth no
Spaniard coveted the post of ambassador to the English Court. To console
Henry for the failure of his schemes, Tunstal assured him that Mary was “a
pearl well worth the keeping”.[42]

FOOTNOTES:
[1] According to some accounts the 18th.

[2] The servants of the Prior of Christchurch, Canterbury, received £4 for carrying
the font to and from Greenwich on this occasion. Add. MS. 21,481. The King’s
Book of Payments, Brit. Mus.
[3] Harl. MS. 3504, f. 232, Brit. Mus.
[4] Gius. Desp., i., 182, Venetian Archives.
[5] MS. in St. Mark’s Library, class vii., No. 1233.
[6] Gius. Desp., i., 90.
[7] Ibid., i., 77.
[8] Gius. Desp., i., 81.
[9] Brewer, Letters and Papers of the Reign of Henry VIII., Cal., i., 5203.
[10] Erasmus to Paul Bombasius (Brewer, Letters and Papers, vol. ii., pt. ii.,
4340).
[11] Life of King Henry the Eighth (ed. 1649), p. 7.
[12] Add. MS. 21,404, 8, Brit. Mus.
[13] Egerton MS. 616, 35, Brit. Mus.
[14] She afterwards filled the same position in the household of Henry’s other
children, Elizabeth and Edward. See Ellis’s Original Letters, 2nd series, vol. ii., p.
78.
[15] The King’s Household Book, March 1516-17.
[16] “Really, this is a very honest man, and worthy to be loved. I have no better
or more faithful servant. Write to your master that I have spoken of him with
commendation.” A curious instance of the colloquial Latin then in vogue (Gius.
Desp., ii., 157).
[17] Gius. Desp., ii., 95.
[18] Brewer, Calendar of State Papers, vol. ii., pt. ii., 4687.
[19] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xxix., p. 155.
[20] MS. in St. Mark’s Library, class vii., No. 1233.
[21] He is reported to have said that he had “liever have my lady princess, and
though the king’s grace had ten children, than the King of Portingale’s daughter,
with all the spices her father hath” (Cotton MS. Calig. D. viii., 40, Brit. Mus.).
[22] Hall’s Chronicle, p. 604.
[23] Sir Richard Wingfield had written from Paris that great search was being
made there to bring to the meeting the fairest ladies that might be found, and he
hoped that the Queen would bring such in her hand “that the visage of England,
which hath always had the prize, be not lost” (Brewer, Cal., vol. iii., pt. i., 698).
[24] Rymer, xiii., 719.

[25] Cotton MS. Vesp. F. xiii., 129, Brit. Mus. Ellis’s Letters, 1st series, i., 174.
[26] Cotton MS. Calig. D. vii., 231.
[27] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xxix., p. 558. In February 1520, £40 was given by Henry
to a gentleman sent by the French King and Queen with tokens for the Princess
(see The King’s Book of Payments).
[28] Brewer, Calendar of State Papers, vol. iii., pt. ii., 1437, 1439, 1533.
[29] Cotton MS. Calig. E. i., art. 11, 46, Brit. Mus.
[30] Brewer, Cal., vol. iii., pt. ii., 2306.
[31] Cotton MS. Galba B. vii., 102, Brit. Mus.
[32] Rawdon Brown, Venetian Calendar, vol. iii., 852 note.
[33] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xxxix., p. 147.
[34] Cotton MS. Vesp. C. ii., 93*, Brit. Mus.
[35] Cotton MS. Calig. D. viii., 302, Brit. Mus.
[36] Westminster, 3rd April 1525, Record Office.
[37] Gayangos, England and Spain, Cal., vol. iii., pt. i., p. 82.
[38] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xl., p. 17.
[39] Cotton MS. Vesp. C. iii., f. 177, Brit. Mus.
[40] Gayangos, Cal., vol. iii., pt. i., pp. 78, 191 et seq. Brewer, Cal., vol. iv., pt. i.,
p. 662.
[41] Cotton MS. Vesp. C. iii., f. 62, Brit. Mus.
[42] Ibid., f. 135.

CHAPTER II.
PRINCESS OF WALES.
1525-1527.
When Mary was about ten years old, her father, mindful it was said of his
Welsh origin, turned his attention towards that principality, thinking wisely
by redressing some of its grievances to reduce it to a more strict obedience.
It was, therefore, determined by the King in Council, to send “our dearest,
best beloved, and only daughter, the Princess, accompanied with an
honourable, sad, discreet and expert counsayle, to reside and remain in the
Marches of Wales and the parties thereabouts, furnished with sufficient
power and authority to hold courts of oyer and determiner, for the better
administration of justice”.[43]
Disappointed in his hope of further issue, Henry had, in a more special
manner than at her christening, declared his daughter heiress to the Crown,
and Princess of Wales, consoling himself with the conviction, that her
extreme popularity would be a sufficient counterpoise to the somewhat
hazardous novelty of a queen regnant. The news of her departure for the
west was communicated to the Venetian Government by Lorenzo Orio in
August, 1525:—
“On Saturday, the Princess went to her principality of Wales, with a
suitable and honourable escort, and she will reside there until the time of
her marriage. She is a rare person, and singularly accomplished, most
particularly in music, playing on every instrument, especially on the lute
and harpsichord.”[44]
The term borders or marches of Wales was somewhat loosely applied,
and “the parties thereabouts” seem to have included the whole of the south-
western, and some of the midland counties, for we find Mary during this
time not only at Chester and Shrewsbury, but also at Tewkesbury and
Gloucester. A great deal of power was put into the hands of her council,
with the means of enforcing their decrees, but the details of her short

sojourn in the west are very meagre, and we are entirely dependent on a few
sidelights, to show the kind of authority that was centred in her person, and
the amount of state that was kept. This last was indeed considerable. A
communication from her council to Sir Andrew Windsor, Sir John Dauncy
and Sir William Skeffington, refers them to the King’s pleasure, “touching
such ordnance and artillery as should be delivered for the Princess into the
marches of Wales, and for despatching the payments for carriage by land or
water. They desire that the two gunners, John Rauffe and Laurence Clayton,
and the armourer, William Carter, now being the Princess’s servants, may
have livery coats of the Princess’s colours.”[45] What those colours were
may be learned from a letter of Wolsey’s to Sir Andrew Windsor,
authorising him to deliver to Dr. Buttes, “appointed physician to my lady
Princess, a livery of blue and green in damask, for himself, and in blue and
green cloth for his two servants; also a cloth livery for the apothecary”. On
the margin of a document, in which are inscribed the names of all the ladies
and gentlemen who accompanied the Princess, is a memorandum, signed by
Wolsey, relating to the quantity of black velvet to be allowed and delivered
to each. Those of inferior rank were to have black damask.
Mary’s head-quarters were at Ludlow, but she travelled constantly from
place to place, visiting all the more accessible parts of the principality, and
the surrounding country. On the 3rd September 1526, she was at Langley, as
we learn from a letter addressed to Wolsey from that place:—
“My lady Princess came on Saturday. Surely, Sir, of her age, as goodly a
child as ever I have seen, and of as good gesture and countenance. Her
Grace was well accompanied with a goodly number of persons of
gravity.”[46]
These “persons of gravity” included, besides councillors, chamberlains,
clerks, surveyors, etc., the Countess of Salisbury, the Countess of Devon,
Lady Katharine Grey, Dr. Wootton, Dean of the Chapel; Mr. John
Featherstone, schoolmaster, and many others, amounting in all to 304
persons, of the most honourable sort.
Mary had authority to kill or give deer at her pleasure, in any forest or
park within the territory appointed to her, and her warrants were served
under pain of the King’s indignation.[47] Careful directions had been given

by the King in Council, concerning her own training, health, clothing, food
and recreation, for all of which the Countess of Salisbury was primarily
responsible. She was “to take open air in gardens, sweet and wholesome
places, and walks,” and everything about her was to be “pure, sweet, clean
and wholesome,” while “all things noisome and displeasant” were to be
“forborne and excluded”. Great attention was to be paid to her food, and to
the manner in which it was served, with cheerful society, “comfortable,
joyous and merry communication, in all honourable and virtuous maner”.
Her council was to meet once a month, at least, and to consult on her health,
virtuous education, etc., “taking into communication my lady Governess,
and the Princess if expedient”.[48] Mr. Featherstone was to instruct her in
Latin, in the place of the Queen, who had hitherto undertaken this branch of
her studies. Shortly before going to Wales, Mary had received a letter from
her mother, in which, after expressing her trouble at the long absence of the
King, and of her daughter, and assuring her that her health is “meetly good”
and that she rejoices to hear that Mary’s own health is mended, Katharine
goes on to say:—
“As for your writing in Latin, I am glad that ye shall change from me to
master Federston, for that shall do you much good to learn by him to write
aright. But yet sometimes I would be glad when ye do write to master
Federston of your own inditing, when he hath read it, that I may see it, for it
shall be a great comfort to me to see you keep your Latin and fair writing
and all, and so I pray you to recommend me to my lady of Salisbury.”[49]
Katharine had spared no pains in the education of her daughter, basing it
upon a solid foundation of piety, and imparting a taste for learning, which
helped to support Mary in the dark days to come. The celebrated Ludovicus
Vives had already contributed to her instruction before her departure into
Wales, and on her return continued to direct one branch of her studies. In
1524 he had dedicated to the Princess 213 symbols or mottoes, with
paraphrases upon each. The first one was called Scopus Vitæ Christus, and
the last Mente Deo defixus, “and these,” says a contemporary writer, “the
Princess seemed to have in perpetual memory, by the practice of her whole
life, for she made Christ the beginning and end of all her actions, from
whose goodness all things do proceed, and to whom all things do tend,
having a most lively example in her virtuous mother”.[50]

The list of Latin works proposed by Vives, and in which Mary soon
began to delight, is startling from the profound character of the subjects
chosen. Among these works were the Epistles of St. Jerome, the Dialogues
of Plato, “particularly,” observes Sir Frederick Madden, “those of a political
turn”;[51] the works of Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, St. Ambrose, St. Augustine,
St. Thomas, and other equally serious books.
That her mind responded to this severely classical and religious training,
is evident from the remarks scattered about the correspondence of the more
or less distinguished personages who at different times came in contact with
her. Her own countrymen were not a little proud of her talents. Lord
Morley, in the preface to his book, A New-Year’s Angelical Salutation by
Tho. Aquine, which he presented to Mary as a New-Year’s gift, mentions
the translation of a prayer by St. Thomas which she had made. “I do
remember,” he says, “that skante ye were come to xij. yeres of age, but that
ye were so rype in the Laten tongue that rathe doth happen to the women
sex, that your grace not only could perfectly rede, wright and construe
Laten, but furthermore translate eny harde thing of the Laten in to our
Inglysshe tongue, and among all other your most vertuous occupacions, I
have seen one prayer translated of your doing of Sayncte Thomas Alquyne,
that I do ensuer your grace is so well done, so near to the Laten, that when I
loke upon it, as I have one of the exemplars of yt, I have not only mervell at
the doinge of it, but further for the well doing, have set yt as well in my
boke or bokes, as also in my pore wyfe’s, your humble beadeswoman, and
my chyldern, to gyve them occasion to remember to praye for your
grace.“[52]
The Princess of Wales had not long to maintain the vice-regal dignity in
the west. Fresh schemes were on foot for disposing of her in marriage, and
her presence was required at court.
After his disastrous defeat at Pavia, the news of which he communicated
to his mother in the famous words, “Tout est perdu fors l’honneur,” Francis
I. had been taken captive to Madrid, from whence he only escaped by
submitting to the most suicidal conditions, leaving his two eldest sons as
hostages in the hands of the Emperor. But having signed the treaty of
Madrid as a prisoner, and being therefore no free agent, he was scarcely
likely to consider its terms binding. One of its stipulations was that he

should marry the Emperor’s sister, Eleanor, Dowager Duchess of Austria,
but this he had no intention of doing, provided he could regain possession
of his children by any other means.
In the perpetual game of see-saw played by the three principal monarchs
of Christendom, with a constant change of partners, it is not surprising to
find Francis now looking towards England for a way out of his difficulties.
He had contrived to form a league against Charles, consisting of the Pope,
the Swiss, the Venetians, and the Florentines; and if England could be
persuaded to join it, this league would be strong enough to defy the
Emperor, and France might not only regain her lost possessions, but dictate
the terms of peace.
But Henry and Wolsey had no particular interest in making things
pleasant for Francis, whose overtures met with no eager response. It was
not clear to the King or his Chancellor what advantage would be derived by
them from an alliance with Francis.
“This king will not spend money to make an enemy of his friend, and
gain nothing,” replied the astute Wolsey to the Venetian, Gasparo Spinelli,
and he assured him that England would not join the league, unless his most
Christian Majesty first undertook to restore Boulogne, and to marry the
Princess Mary.[53]
But France had suffered too many humiliating losses willingly to give up
so important a place, and later, when Henry sent a special envoy to
negotiate a marriage between Mary and Francis, all mention of Boulogne
was dropped.
It would seem incredible, but for authentic evidence, that Henry should
have seriously entertained the notion of bestowing on a middle-aged
profligate such as the King of France, whose actual life would not bear
investigation, the young daughter whom he professed to love and cherish,
as “the pearl of the world”. Nevertheless, for a time at least, his mind was
fixed on this purpose, and Wolsey was never more keenly alive to his own
interests than in the fabrication of this delicate piece of diplomacy. Francis
was equally in earnest, on account of his impatience to take reprisals on the
Emperor, and the Queen mother, Louise of Savoy, told the English
ambassadors that her son had long been anxious to marry their Princess,

“both for her manifold virtues and other gay qualities, which they assured
them were not here unknown”.
The next step was to send ambassadors to England to treat of the
marriage. These were the Bishop of Tarbes, afterwards Cardinal Grammont,
first president of the Parliament of Toulouse, the Vicomte de Turenne, and
La Viste, president of the Parliament of Paris. They were instructed by
Francis to go straight to the Princess Mary, visit and salute her in his name,
and to express his “sore longing to have her portraiture”. Hereupon, Henry
sent Francis his own and Mary’s picture,[54] assuring him that he was much
obliged to him for condescending to take his little daughter, who did not
deserve such honour.[55]
The Venetians looked upon the marriage as certain, and thought that war
would be waged in consequence, in every direction;[56] but the more general
opinion in Europe was that Henry would not succeed in a matrimonial
alliance with any foreign potentate, but that the English would insist on
having a king of their own, and would not suffer a foreigner to sit upon the
throne.[57]
“In time of war,” said the Archbishop of Capua to Charles V., “the
English made use of their Princess as they did of an owl, as a decoy for
alluring the smaller birds.” The Emperor, not understanding the allusion,
asked the Archbishop what he meant by “owl,” and when it was explained
to him laughed heartily.
Meanwhile, the French envoys saw the Princess, on St. George’s Day
(1527). She spoke to them in French and Latin, and was made to display her
achievements in writing and on the harpsichord. Spinelli wrote that a
solemn betrothal had taken place at Greenwich, when the Bishop of Tarbes
had delivered an oration, after which he and the Vicomte de Turenne had
dined with the King, the others dining apart. At the end of dinner they went
to the Queen’s apartments, where the Princess danced with de Turenne, who
considered her very handsome, and admirable by reason of her great and
uncommon mental endowments, but so thin, spare and small, as to render it
impossible for her to be married for the next three years.[58] A succession of
jousts and masks of the most dazzling description followed. Spinelli, in
relating the brilliant course of entertainments, says of one in particular:—

“Thereupon there fell to the ground at the extremity of the hall, a painted
canvas from an aperture, in which was seen a most verdant cave approached
by four steps, each side being guarded by four of the chief gentlemen of the
Court, clad in tissue doublets and tall plumes, each of whom carried a torch.
Well grouped, within the cave, were eight damsels of such rare beauty, as to
be supposed goddesses rather than human beings. They were arrayed in
cloth of gold, their hair gathered into a net, with a very richly jewelled
garland surmounted by a velvet cap, the hanging sleeves of their surcoats
being so long, that they well-nigh touched the ground, and so well and
richly wrought as to be no slight ornament to their beauty. They descended
gracefully from their seats to the sound of trumpets, the first of them being
the Princess, with the Marchioness of Exeter. Her beauty in this array
produced such effect on everybody, that all the other marvellous sights
previously witnessed were forgotten, and they gave themselves up solely to
contemplation of so fair an angel. On her person were so many precious
stones, that their splendour and radiance dazzled the sight, in such wise as
to make one believe that she was decked with all the gems of the eighth
sphere. Dancing thus, they presented themselves to the King, their dance
being very delightful by reason of its variety, as they formed certain groups
and figures most pleasing to the sight. Their dance being finished, they
ranged themselves on one side, and in like order, the eight youths, leaving
their torches, came down from the cave, and after performing their dances,
each of them took by the hand one of those beautiful nymphs, and having
led a courant together, for a while returned to their places. Six masks then
entered. To detail their costume would be but to repeat the words ‘cloth of
gold,’ ‘cloth of silver,’ etc. They chose such ladies as they pleased for their
partners, and commenced various dances, which being ended, the King
appeared. The French ambassador, the Marquis of Turrenne (sic), was at his
side, and behind him four couples of noblemen all masked, and all wearing
black velvet slippers on their feet, this being done lest the King should be
distinguished from the others, as from the hurt which he received lately
when playing at tennis, he wears a black velvet slipper. They were all clad
in tissue doublets, over which was a very long and ample gown of black
satin, with hoods of the same material; and on their heads caps of tawney
velvet. They then took by the hand an equal number of ladies, dancing with
great glee, and at the end of the dance unmasked, whereupon, the Princess
with her companions again descended, and came to the King, who in the

presence of the French ambassadors, took off her cap, and the net being
displaced, a profusion of silver tresses, as beautiful as ever seen on human
head, fell over her shoulders, forming a most agreeable sight. The aforesaid
ambassadors then took leave of her, and all departing from that beautiful
place, returned to the supper hall, where the tables were spread with every
kind of confection and choice wines, for all who chose to cheer themselves
with them. The sun I believe greatly hastened his course, having perhaps
had a hint from Mercury of so rare a sight; so showing himself already on
the horizon, warning being thus given of his presence, everybody thought it
time to quit the royal chambers, returning to their own with such sleepy
eyes, that the daylight could not keep them open.”[59]
Little progress was, however, made with the negotiations. Compliments
flowed freely on both sides, but did not advance matters, and Wolsey
determined to seek an interview with Francis, bring the affair to a crisis, and
settle certain other matters which had lately supervened, to complicate
immeasurably the tangled politics of Europe. One of these was the sack of
Rome by the imperial army, and the consequent imprisonment of the Pope
and the whole College of Cardinals, in the Castle of St. Angelo. Another,
which more immediately concerned England, was known as yet but to a
chosen few as “the king’s secret matter,” but which was ultimately to
inflame the whole of Christendom.
Wolsey was flattered, courted and feared by all the powers. He was at
once the most brilliant, the most daring and the least scrupulous diplomat in
Europe. His boundless ambition was easily entertained by the notion that
the Papal authority might be delegated to himself, during the Pope’s
captivity, and that thus by one swing of the pendulum, he might be raised to
the highest dignity on earth. This one swing of the pendulum was to be
effected by a promise, that if Henry secured his election, he would, as Pope,
pass a decree in favour of “the king’s secret matter”.[60]
But before this dream could be realised, Francis must be won over to the
scheme of his candidature, and the votes of the French cardinals secured.
Francis, bent only on checkmating the Emperor, was fascinated with the
idea of marrying the English princess, and of drawing England into the
league against Charles; and Wolsey, ever tactful, kept his own plans in the
background, until the royal suitor should be satisfied.

The Cardinal of York and the French King were to meet at Amiens, and
the moment that Wolsey set foot in France he received from the King a
commission, authorising him to pardon and liberate under his own letters
patent, such prisoners as he chose, in the towns through which he passed,
except those committed for treason, murder, and similar crimes. After their
first interview, the Cardinal wrote an account to Henry of all that had
passed between them. Francis had spoken of Mary as “the cornerstone of
the new covenant,” “and I,” added Wolsey, “being her godfather, loving her
entirely, next unto your Highness, and above all other creatures, assured
him that I was desirous she should be bestowed upon his person, as in the
best and most worthy place in Christendom”.
Francis coveted the honour of possessing the Garter, and his hint to that
effect was ingenious, if somewhat broad. Taking hold of the image of St.
Michael, which he wore on his neck, he said to Wolsey:—
“Now the King, my brother, and I be thus knit and married in our hearts
together, it were well done, it seemeth, that we should be knit par colletz et
jambes”.[61]
It was becoming more and more evident that the only hope for France
was in a speedy alliance with England. The Bishop of Tarbes, on his return
from his embassy to solicit Mary’s hand for his master, contributed his
meed of praise, assuring Francis that the Princess was “the pearl of the
world,” and “of such beauty and virtue that the King of England esteemed
her more than anything on earth”.
“I pray you, repeat unto me none of these matters,” interrupted Francis
impatiently. “I know well enow her education, her form, her fashion, her
beauty and virtue, and what father and mother she cometh of; expedient and
necessary it shall be for me and for my realm that I marry her, and I assure
you for the same cause, I have as great a mind to her as ever I had to any
woman.”
Nevertheless, the alliance with England was not to be in this wise. The
army, consisting of 30,000 men, which Francis had sent into Italy under
Lautrec, had suffered a humiliating defeat before Naples, and the loss of a
second army at Landriano obliged him to conclude with Charles the
disastrous treaty of Cambrai, by which he was forced to pay 2,000,000 of

gold crowns in lieu of Burgundy. Four marriages were to ensue. The King
of France was to fulfil his promise to the Emperor’s sister; the Dauphin was
to marry the Infanta of Portugal; the son of the Duke of Lorraine was
affianced to the Princess Madeleine, daughter of the King of France, whose
second son, the Duke of Orleans, was betrothed to Mary.
The marriage contract between Mary and the Duke of Orleans, signed
and sealed by Francis I., and illustrated with their portraits, was dated 18th
August 1527, and is still preserved in the Record Office.[62] This interesting
document is beautifully illuminated on vellum, with a gold background and
a border composed of Tudor roses, fleurs de lys and cupids. Francis I.,
representing the god Hymen, in a dress of the period, holds a hand of the
bride and of the bridegroom. The arms of England and France are on either
side of him. The Princess Mary, a youthful figure in a white dress covered
with flowers, and wearing a blue coif with a gold border, stands on the left
of Francis; the Duke of Orleans, a young boy in doublet and trunk hose, is
on his right.
The peace, thus momentarily secured at the cost of immense sacrifices on
the part of France, afforded a brief space in which to prepare for a fresh
outbreak of hostilities. Francis and Henry were henceforth allies, and the
course of affairs in England tended to cement their bond, and to widen the
breach between them and the house of Austria. Henry sent Francis the
Garter, and received the order of St. Michael in exchange.[63]

FOOTNOTES:
[43] Harl. MS. 6807, f. 3, Brit. Mus.
[44] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xxxix., p. 356.

[45] Reading Abbey, 18th August 1525, Record Office.
[46] Sampson to Cardinal Wolsey. Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 314, Brit. Mus.
[47] R. Brereton of Chester to W. Brereton, Groom of the King’s Privy Chamber,
25th August 1526, Record Office.
[48] Cotton MS. Vit. C. i., f. 36, Brit. Mus.
[49] Cotton MS. Vesp. F. xiii., f. 72, Brit. Mus. Mary wrote a beautiful, firm, and
clear hand, a specimen of which is reproduced at page 192 of this volume.
[50] The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria, by Henry Clifford. Transcribed
from the ancient MS. in the possession of Lord Dormer by Canon Estcourt, and
edited by the Rev. Joseph Stevenson, p. 82.
[51] Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary, Introductory Memoir.
[52] For this prayer and Mary’s translation see Appendix A.
[53] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xliii., p. 55. Spinelli to the Doge, 11th Sept. 1526.
[54] Masters’ MS., f. 113.
[55] Dodieu’s Narrative.
[56] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xliv., p. 97.
[57] This view proved to be the more correct, when, twenty-seven years later, a
formidable insurrection was raised to prevent Mary’s marriage with Philip of
Spain.
[58] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xlv., pp. 194-198.
[59] Venetian Calendar, vol. iv., 105.
[60] Wolsey to Henry VIII., State Papers, i., 205, 206, 207, 230, 231, 270, R.O.
[61] Brewer, Cal., vol. iv., pt. ii., 3350.
[62] Diplomatic Contracts, box 39, No. 1112, Record Office.
[63] Sanuto Diaries, vol. xlvi., p. 118.

CHAPTER III.
THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE.
1527-1533.
Mary’s whole life was clouded, with the first whisper of the King’s
“secret matter”. Until then the Princess had been surrounded with all the
charm of greatness, without any of its disadvantages, for she had been so
wisely educated, that she remained unspoiled by the adulation of courtiers,
or by the enthusiasm with which the nation regarded her. Her delight was in
study, in music, in almsgiving, in the bestowal of gifts, and in the society of
her parents, both of whom were remarkable for talents above the average.
[64]
She had been too young to be greatly affected by the various schemes
for her disposal in marriage, although she had taken her betrothal to the
Emperor seriously; but her trials began when she was old enough to
appreciate their meaning, and when she might reasonably have expected to
realise some of the seductive prospects held before her eyes from her
cradle. There was no element of romance in her character; her mental
endowments were essentially of a practical nature, and she lacked almost
entirely the gifts necessary to adapt them to a changing world. Nearly all
her life long the times were out of joint, and she knew no other way to set
them right, but that of uncompromising opposition. But she possessed in an
eminent degree the virtues of her limitations; her whole conduct was
moulded on examples which she had been taught to reverence as her
conscience, and consistent to a fault, she saw little evil in the old order, little
good in the new. Ardently affectionate, a loyal friend and bountiful mistress,
she was keenly sensitive to every act of fidelity. According to the
contemporary chronicle already quoted,[65] “she was so bred as she hated
evil, knew no foul or unclean speeches, which when her lord father
understood, he would not believe it, but would try it once by Sir Francis
Brian, being at a mask in the court; and finding it to be true
notwithstanding, perceiving her to be prudent, and of a princely spirit, did
ever after more honour her”.

But the fatal shadow of Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, had fallen
on the throne, and the king’s infatuation for her was to sweep both his wife
and his daughter into a vortex of misery from which there was no escape for
one of them but death. Whether Wolsey first insinuated the doubt as to the
validity of the king’s marriage, in order to pander to Henry’s wandering
fancies, or whether Henry himself, carried away by his passion for Anne
Boleyn, evolved the idea of a possible flaw in his union with Katharine,
matters little. The question was soon entangled in a mass of chicanery, and
whichever of the two may have been the first to strike the match, it was
clear to Wolsey, that his fortunes depended henceforth on his keeping the
flame alive. The subject had been mooted as far back as 1525, and the first
mention of the coming divorce, of which we have any record, is contained
in a letter from Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury, to Wolsey. Referring to
some other business, Warham says, “it will be better not to proceed further,
till this great matter of the King’s grace be ended”.[66] Again in 1526, after a
long interval in which the subject seems to have been dropped, the Bishop
of Bath and Wells remarked to the Cardinal of York, “there will be great
difficulty circa istud benedictum divortium”.[67]
The sack of Rome by the Imperialists, and the Pope’s captivity delayed
the investigation of the cause by the papal courts to which it had been
referred, but in 1527, Henry’s “scruples” for having married his brother’s
widow began to be talked of as the King’s “great,” “secret” or “private
matter”.[68] Possibly, when Henry first began to study the Scriptures, and
the writers of antiquity in search of arguments to support his “scruples,” he
may not yet have fallen in love with Anne, or at least Wolsey did not know
that he had. When he did set his mind on marrying her, it did not seem
probable that his fancy would outlive the necessary delays and
preliminaries of a divorce, even if it could be obtained, or that the ambition
of the Boleyns would be equal to the influence of the Cardinal. But during
Wolsey’s absence in France, the whole subject assumed a point and a
piquancy hitherto undreamed of. Wolsey had not fostered Henry’s desires in
order to further his marriage with the grand-daughter of a wealthy
merchant. He himself aimed at nothing short of the Papacy, and he thought
that by negotiating a brilliant marriage with a princess of France, he could
make for himself a convenient stepping-stone thereto, far more secure than
that which Mary’s marriage would afford. As the candidate of two powerful

monarchs, he would practically control the next conclave; but the Boleyns
could do nothing for him. He had yet to learn that Anne was strong enough
to work his ruin.
Before his departure for his embassy to France, he had, in collusion with
the King, held a secret legatine court, together with Archbishop Warham,
and had cited Henry to appear, and answer the charge of having lived
unlawfully for eighteen years with his brother’s widow. A second sitting of
the court was held on the 20th May, and a third on the 31st.
Thus were the proceedings opened, but Henry, fearing that the authority
of the two archbishops might not be weighty enough to bring the affair to a
crisis, proposed that the question, whether a man might marry his late
brother’s wife, should be submitted to the most learned bishops in England,
counting on their subserviency to obtain the answer he wished. But the
bishops were less amenable than he expected. Most of them replied that
with a papal dispensation such a marriage would be perfectly valid.
All this time, Henry imagined that his secret had been kept; but Katharine
was well aware of what was pending. On the 22nd June he broached the
subject to her, telling her that he had been living in mortal sin, and that
henceforth he would abstain from her company. He asked her to remove to
some place at a distance from the court. Katharine, greatly agitated, burst
into tears, and would neither admit the reasonableness of his doubts nor
agree to live apart from him. In the actual state of affairs, Henry could do
no more, and for a time nothing was changed. Anne was almost constantly
at court, and the divorce was now openly spoken of, but was extremely
unpopular. No one believed in Henry’s scruples, but Anne played her part
with tact, and her power increased daily. To give some colour to the
proceedings, Henry and Wolsey had trumped up an ingenious story. They
declared that during the treaty for Mary’s marriage with Francis or the Duke
of Orleans, the Bishop of Tarbes had expressed a doubt as to her legitimacy.
[69]
This story was made to do duty in England, but no trace of the Bishop
of Tarbes having made such a remark is to be found in France, nor was any
use made of the pretext in the subsequent trial at Rome.[70] It is in distinct
contradiction with the well-known fact that the bishop was in favour of the
marriage, and did all he could to bring it about. Moreover, during all the
long and tedious discussions between the two kings at that time, not a word

transpired, even when Wolsey went to France, of Henry’s intention to
repudiate Katharine, not a doubt was expressed of Mary’s legitimacy. Henry
always alluded to his daughter at that time as heiress to the throne. But on
Wolsey’s return, matters at once assumed a different aspect. Elated with the
success of his embassy, the Cardinal of York seemed to have the world at
his feet. He had all but married Mary to the King of France, who was in
need of nothing more than of England’s friendship. As soon as this union
was accomplished, Henry’s marriage might be successfully broken, and a
new one negotiated with a daughter of France, when two grateful monarchs
would hold the triple crown over his expectant head. But now all this choice
fabric of his dreams was imperilled by the clashing ambition of a woman,
even then lightly spoken of. Anne, knowing that he would be her bitterest
foe, obtained to be present at his first audience with the King, and shortly
after, Henry told him that he intended to marry her. Seeing that arguments,
entreaties and warnings were futile, Wolsey turned round and paid court to
the rising star. But Anne never forgave his opposition, and never trusted
him. She taunted Henry with his bondage to the Cardinal, and did not rest
till she had stirred up strife between them, on the subject of the nomination
of an Abbess of Wilton. The quarrel was patched up, but it proved to be the
rift within the lute, that was to make harmony impossible, and to lead on to
his fall.
Meanwhile, Mary was still in ignorance of the events that were to
influence all her future. Her education went on without interruption, and in
the summer of 1528, Katharine, who, in spite of overwhelming anxieties,
had room in her mind for solicitude regarding her daughter’s studies, wrote
to Ludovicus Vives to express a wish that he would come and teach the
Princess Latin, during the following winter. He consented, and returned to
England on the 1st October, “to please the King and Queen”. By this time
Katharine was in dire need of help, advice and consolation. “She told him
how deeply she was afflicted about the controversy concerning her
marriage; and, thinking him well read in matters of moral, began to open
out to him as her countryman, on the subject of her grief.”[71] Vives
prudently replied that “her sorrows were a proof that she was dear to God,
for that thus He was accustomed to chasten His own”. But he proved
himself a true friend to the Queen, and took occasion to write to Henry,
begging him to consider the danger of his course in incurring the enmity of

the Emperor. If his object was to have a son, he might choose a suitable
person to marry his daughter. If he were to take another wife, there was no
certainty that she would bear him a son, or that a son would live. A new
marriage would leave the succession doubtful, and afford grounds for civil
war. He was, he said, moved to write by his duty to the King, love to
England, where he was so kindly received, and anxiety for the peace of
Christendom.[72]
Katharine had, in truth, need of patience. Anne grew daily more
overbearing, and it was hardly to be expected that the Queen’s sense of
humour should be equal to the grotesque littleness, with which the favourite
exulted over her enemies. In a hapless moment she showed her contempt
for them by the device, Ainsi sera, groigne qui groigne, which she caused to
be embroidered on her servants’ liveries, but learned to her mortification
that she had unwittingly adopted the motto of her bitter enemies, the princes
of the house of Burgundy. In England, the friends of the Queen cried:
“Groigne qui groigne et vive Bourgoigne!” The liveries, being thus covered
with ridicule, had to be discarded, and on Christmas Day, her servants
appeared in their old doublets.[73]
In October 1528, the papal legate, Cardinal Campeggio arrived in
London. The Pope had charged him with the mission to do his utmost to
restore mutual affection between the King and Queen, and failing this
result, to open a court of inquiry, in conjunction with Wolsey.
But it was clear that no reconciliation would be possible. Henry was
infatuated with Anne; and as for the legatine court, the two judges were at
cross purposes, Wolsey aiming at nothing but a verdict against the marriage,
while Campeggio was determined that justice should be done. His policy
was to counteract the haste with which the proceedings were hurried
forward, “with great strides always faster than a trot,” and in this he
succeeded so well, that the legates being pressed to give sentence in the
King’s favour by the 22nd July, Campeggio declared, that if Wolsey agreed
with him, he was willing to pronounce sentence, otherwise it would not be
pronounced. The cause was then removed to Rome, to be tried before the
Court of the Rota, and it being apparent that Wolsey possessed neither
weight nor credit with the Pope, his fall became imminent. Anne had not

schemed in vain, and his disgrace filled her with exultation, although her
cause was in no way benefited by it.
We are greatly indebted for the history of the Queen and the Princess
Mary, during the next few years, to the interesting despatches of the
imperial ambassador, Eustace Chapuys, who arrived in England in August
1529. He was a native of Switzerland, aged about thirty, of distinguished,
and even courtly manners, eloquent, quick-witted and trustworthy. Charles
V. had been so much impressed with his sagacity that he sent him as
ambassador, first to Francis I., then to Henry VIII., both enemies who
required judicious handling. Full of minute details, his letters cannot be said
to present either a wholly impartial, or still less a one-sided view of passing
events. Chapuys was an avowed friend of the unhappy Queen and of her
daughter, but as the accredited envoy of Charles V. he would not be likely to
furnish him with false statements, or garbled facts, and although his natural
bias leads him to write with eulogy of the Queen and the Princess, and with
acrimony of their enemies, he would not have been the diplomatist he
proved himself to be had he misled Charles as to the details of the tragedy
that was being played before his eyes. He was a shrewd observer, tactful
and discreet, so that he never compromised his position at court by showing
too much zeal. He contrived to give Henry and Cromwell the impression
that he was acting solely as the Emperor’s diplomatic agent, and thus was at
first allowed to communicate freely with Katharine and Mary, and was
often able to render them important service.
In transcribing portions of these letters, Dr. Gairdner’s excellent
translations of the original documents in the Vienna archives, and the
versions of Don Pasquale de Gayangos have been used. Mr. Rawdon
Brown’s transcripts from the Venetian archives are still important, and later
on, of even greater interest.
The condition in which Chapuys found the English Court was unique.
Henry continued to treat Katharine with outward decency; they still
sometimes dined together in public, and occasionally hunted in each other’s
company. But Anne was never far off, and when at court, was treated with
as much ceremony as the Queen herself. Mary was seldom allowed to visit
her parents, probably because of Anne’s intense dislike to her. The favourite
was, perhaps not unnaturally, less jealous of the wife whom Henry had

ceased to care for, than of the daughter whom he was supposed to idolise.
Both at Hampton Court and Windsor there was ample accommodation for
the Queen, and the mistress as well; but at York Place, Whitehall, which
Henry had seized on Wolsey’s fall, there was no suitable apartment for
Katharine; and Anne was always best pleased to be there, for then Henry
left his wife at Greenwich. But the court was seldom in London, and Anne
agitated incessantly that she might be banished.[74]
In March 1531, Mary was allowed to visit her mother; but in April she
had an illness, and wrote to the King that no medicine would do her so
much good as to see him and the Queen, and desired his permission to come
to them both at Greenwich. “This,” said Chapuys, “has been refused, to
gratify the Lady, who hates her as much as the Queen, or more so, chiefly
because she sees the King has some affection for her. Of late, when the
King praised her in the Lady’s presence, the latter was very angry, and
began to vituperate the Princess very strangely. She becomes more arrogant
every day, using words and authority towards the King, of which he has
several times complained to the Duke of Norfolk, saying that she was not
like the Queen, who had never in her life used ill words to him.”[75]
On the 14th May, he writes: “The King, dining the other day with the
Queen, as is usual in most festivals, began to speak of the Turk, and the
truce concluded with your Majesty, praising your puissance, contrary to his
wont. Afterwards, proceeding to speak of the Princess, he accused the
Queen of cruelty, because she had not made her physician reside continually
with her; and so the dinner passed off amicably. Next day, when the Queen,
in consequence of these gracious speeches, asked the King to allow the
Princess to see them, he rebuffed her very rudely, and said she might go and
see the Princess if she wished, and also stop there. The Queen graciously
replied, that she would not leave him for her daughter, nor for any one else
in the world, and there the matter stopped.”
Worried at the opposition which he encountered in his efforts to get rid of
Katharine, Henry told the Duke of Norfolk that it would have been a great
blessing if this marriage had never been made, but on second thoughts, he
added, “nevertheless, this would have been a great pity, since of it there had
come such a pearl as the Princess, who was one of the most beautiful and
virtuous ladies of the world”.[76]

In 1530, Mary was still called Princess of Wales, and until the autumn of
the following year, her father kept up an appearance of civility towards her
mother, visiting her in her apartments every three days. At last, however, he
left her at Windsor, and went away hunting with Anne. Katharine sent to
inquire after his health, and he replied by an angry letter, forbidding her to
write to him. To add to the insult, there was no address on the letter,
“probably,” says Chapuys, “because a change of name was contemplated;
but the Princess is with her, and this will make her forget her grief for the
absence of the King. They amuse themselves by hunting, and visiting the
royal houses round Windsor, expecting some good news from Rome.”[77]
Chapuys told the Emperor that the Pope had said, that “if there was
written evidence of the great familiarity and scandalous conversation, and
bad example of the King and the Lady, and of the ill-treatment of the
Queen, his Holiness would immediately fulminate his censures”. But, by
this time, Henry was reckless of all save Anne, and his hunting expedition
having come to an end, he wished to return to Windsor, and intimated to
Katharine that both she and her daughter must depart. Mary was to return to
Richmond, while she herself had orders to repair to the More, a house in
Hertfordshire, formerly belonging to Wolsey, but which had come into the
possession of the Abbey of St. Albans, and was granted to the King, in
December 1531. The house itself is described as “a commodious habitation
in summer,” but the park and garden were in a ruinous condition and “the
ways so foul that those who went there in carriages, broke down the pales
and made highway through the park”. The keeper, Sir John Russell, wrote
repeatedly to Cromwell about the condition of the said palings, but could
get no answer, and complained that if the king would “give no money for
the paling,” no deer would be left; and if the charge were not so great, he
would bear it out of his own purse. Moreover, the king would only give the
gardener sixpence a day, and no one would take it at that price. If he would
give eightpence, Sir John declares that he himself would contribute “twenty
nobles of the charge”. “The Queen’s servants, with their carriage, broke
down the pales in many places.”[78]
Katharine remained at this place for several months. She declared that
she would have preferred going to the Tower as a prisoner, but Chapuys
said that the King knew quite well, that if he sent her there, the people
would have risen in mutiny; that he was often waylaid as he went to hunt,

with entreaties to take the Queen back, and that Anne met with insults from
the women wherever she went. Nevertheless, she protested loudly, that the
King would marry her in three or four months, and began preparing for her
royal state.
Katharine never saw her daughter again, and could only communicate
with her secretly. They were sternly forbidden to write to each other,
whereupon Mary begged that some one might be sent from the King to read
the letters which she wrote to her mother, that it might be seen she only
informed her about her health. But even this was refused, and henceforth
none but furtive missives passed between them, letters written in dread, and
conveyed with danger, at times when exceptional terrors appeared to hang
over the one or the other. Henry hoped by a systematic persecution, to break
the spirit of both; but each was of the blood royal of Spain, the noblest in
Europe, and the indignities heaped upon them only served to increase the
dignity with which they suffered. Mary was, moreover, a Tudor also, and
could be as resolute as her father.
In 1531, an Italian, Mario Savagnano, with some companions, paid a visit
to the English Court, and in an interesting account of his journey recorded
his impressions of the King, Queen, and Princess:—
“I saw the King twice, and kissed his hand; he is glad to see foreigners,
and especially Italians; he embraced me joyously, and then went out to hunt
with some forty to fifty horsemen. He is tall of stature, very well formed
and of very handsome presence, beyond measure affable, and I never saw a
prince better disposed than this one. He is also learned and accomplished,
and most generous and kind, and were it not that he now seeks to repudiate
his wife, after having lived with her for twenty-two years, he would be no
less perfectly good, and equally prudent. But this thing detracts greatly from
his merits, as there is now living with him a young woman of noble birth,
though many say of bad character, whose will is law to him, and he is
expected to marry her should the divorce take place, which it is supposed
will not be effected, as the peers of the realm, both spiritual and temporal,
are opposed to it; nor during the present Queen’s life will they have any
other queen in the kingdom. Her Majesty is prudent and good; and during
these differences with the King, she has evinced constancy and resolution,
never being disheartened or depressed. I returned to Windsor Castle, and

from thence, on the fourth day of my departure from London, arrived at a
palace called the More, where the Queen resides. In the morning we saw
her Majesty dine: she had some thirty maids of honour standing round the
table, and about fifty who performed its service. Her court consists of about
two hundred persons, but she is not so much visited as heretofore, on
account of the King. Her Majesty is not of tall stature, rather small. If not
handsome, she is not ugly; she is somewhat stout, and has always a smile
on her countenance. We next went to another palace called Richmond,
where the Princess her daughter resides; and having asked the
maggiordomo for permission to see her, he spoke to the chamberlain, and
then to the governess (the Countess of Salisbury) and they made us wait.
Then, after seeing the palace, we returned to the hall, and having entered a
spacious chamber, where there were some venerable old men, with whom
we discoursed, the Princess came forth, accompanied by a noble lady,
advanced in years, who is her governess, and by six maids of honour. This
Princess is not tall, has a pretty face, and is well proportioned, with a very
beautiful complexion, and is fifteen years old. She speaks Spanish, French,
and Latin, besides her own mother-English tongue, is well grounded in
Greek, and understands Italian, but does not venture to speak it. She sings
excellently, and plays on several instruments, so that she combines every
accomplishment. We were then taken to a sumptuous repast, after which we
returned to our lodging, whither, according to the fashion of the country, the
Princess sent us a present of wine and ale (which last is another beverage of
theirs) and white bread. On the next day, which was the 6th, we returned to
London to the house of our ambassador, where we remained two days, and
then by boat went down the Thames, which is very broad, and covered with
swans, and thus we got to Dover the passage port.”[79]

KATHARINE OF ARRAGON.
From a fine original in miniature by Holbein, formerly in Horace Walpole’s Collection at Strawberry
Hill.

Another Italian visitor, the Venetian, Ludovico Falier, describes Mary at
sixteen years old as “a very handsome, amiable and accomplished princess,
in no respect inferior to her mother”. He remarks that Katharine was so
much loved and respected, that the people were beginning to murmur
against the King. “Were,” he continues, “the faction to produce a leader, it
is certain that the English nation, so prone to innovation and change, would
take up arms for the Queen, and by so much the more, were it arranged for

the leader to marry the Princess Mary, although by English law females are
excluded from the Crown.”[80]
Another, Marin Giustinian, writing to the Signory, says: “The English
King is not popular with his subjects, chiefly on account of his intention to
divorce his wife, who is much loved, and they hold her daughter in very
great account”.[81]
A month later, the same writer was at Paris, and says:—
“The English ambassador here, Sir John Wallop, does not approve the
divorce; praising the wisdom, innocence, and patience of Queen Katharine,
as also her daughter. He says that the Queen was beloved as if she had been
of the blood royal of England, and the Princess in like manner.”[82]
And from Lyons, on the 28th March 1533, he writes that a gentleman
who has come from England has told Sir John Wallop, that “the King does
not choose the Princess any longer to be styled Princess, but ‘Madam
Mary,’ nor will he give her in marriage abroad; others say that he intends to
make her a nun”. In August Marc Antonio Venier, in a despatch to the
Signory from Rome, says that “letters from England announce that the
Archbishop of Canterbury has pronounced a sentence in favour of Henry,
prohibiting Katharine to be any longer named Queen, and is having it
proclaimed throughout the realm, so that she may not be able to defend
herself; and her daughter has been admonished not to interfere”.[83]
In the main, the Italians were correctly informed as to passing events in
England. But at this period, although Henry kept Mary at a distance from
court, and had not seen her for three years, she was still treated with a
degree of consideration, to which her mother had long been a stranger. He
was still uncertain as to the use he would make of her, in securing for
himself allies abroad. He hoped that she would submit quietly to the new
laws, and therefore, for a time at least, nothing was abated of her royal
state. In September 1531, soon after her parting from her mother, a warrant
was issued to the Master of the Great Wardrobe “to deliver certain things
for the use of the Princess,” nearly all of which were composed of materials
then only used by royal personages.[84]

The perennial question of her marriage was again in debate, but was
thenceforth removed to a lower level in European politics. Her betrothal to
the Duke of Orleans had never been cancelled, but a dispute had arisen
between Henry and Francis, on the subject of money. Then, when the
validity of her parents’ marriage became a matter of discussion in all the
Universities of Europe, Francis wished that the case should be first settled,
“lest the world should declare that his son had married a bastard”.[85] And in
the midst of these delays, the Scottish alliance was again mooted. But the
Scotch put too high a value on their friendship with France, to risk such a
union;[86] Margaret was too like her brother to commit herself to any
definite policy save that of intrigue; and Henry had now more urgent
business on hand than the disposal of his daughter in marriage. Some
languid interest was excited at court by the proposal of King John Zapolski
to marry her, and Chapuys heard that her hand had been sought for the
Duke of Cleves;[87] but neither project was seriously entertained. It was also
believed that the Pope and the Emperor wished to bestow her on Francesco
Sforza, Duke of Milan, who had lost the use of his hands and feet. “And
this,” wrote Niño to the Emperor, “would not be half such bad treatment of
the daughter as of the mother.”[88]
To all these projects Henry replied that the Princess would never be
married except in a high position, for she was still heiress of the kingdom;
and when the great affair was settled in the King’s favour, and he remarried,
it was uncertain whether he would have male children, and if not she would
be preferred to other daughters. If any person ventured to say that she was
illegitimate, “he would have his head cut off”.[89]
Wolsey had died in disgrace, on the 27th November 1530, and the
chancellorship devolved on his own secretary, Thomas Cromwell, a man
who virtually made the history of the next ten years in England. The son of
a “fuller of clothes” or dyer, his career had been singularly varied. He had
as a mere youth found his way to Italy, where he served as a common
soldier, but being preternaturally observant, he succeeded in picking up
many scraps of the new learning which fell from the great Medici banquet,
then being spread throughout Tuscany. Machiavelli’s book, Il Principe, was
the foundation on which his whole future statesmanship was built. On his
return to England he was successively a scrivener, a lawyer, a money-

lender, and a great wool merchant at Middlesbrough. It was not till he was
nearly middle-aged, that he attracted the notice of Wolsey, then beginning
the suppression of some small monasteries, in favour of his colleges at
Ipswich and Oxford. On Wolsey’s fall, it was thought that he would be
imprisoned, but he seized the moment when the tide was turning, and used
it to float himself into a safe harbour. Reginald Pole, son of the Countess of
Salisbury, had met him at Cardinal Wolsey’s, and had recognised in him the
coming man. They had talked philosophy, and Cromwell tried to persuade
him that Plato’s system was “a dream,” promising to send him a copy of Il
Principe. It was probably at Cromwell’s instigation that Henry offered Pole
the Archbishopric of York, although he was not yet in priest’s orders. Seeing
the course that the King was now taking, and Cromwell’s growing
influence, instead of accepting the benefice, Pole determined to fly the
kingdom, “beyond the reach of his bow,”[90] and was in consequence saved
from the fate of More and Fisher, and, later on, from that of his own mother.
Henry, loth to lose so able an advocate as he would prove, if he could be
won over to his cause, refused his repeated request to be allowed to go and
study abroad. But at last Pole told him that if he remained in England, he
must of necessity attend the Parliament which was about to assemble, and
that if the King’s divorce were discussed, he must speak according to his
conscience. Henry then at once gave him leave to go, and even promised to
continue his income of 400 ducats yearly.[91]
Between the beginning of August 1530 and May 1531, Henry lavished
the price of a king’s ransom in jewels upon Anne.[92] But in the catalogue of
presents made by him on New Year’s Day, 1532, the names of the Queen
and Princess are conspicuously followed by a blank space. Not only did he
send them none, but he forbade the members of his council, and others to
do so, and this year he abstained for the first time from making presents to
the ladies of Katharine’s and Mary’s households. But to Anne he gave the
hangings of a room in cloth of gold and silver, and crimson satin with costly
embroideries. She was now lodged in the Queen’s apartments, and had
almost as many ladies as if she were already queen. Katharine sent a gold
cup to the King as a present, but he returned it to her, with a message
praising its beauty, but informing her that he could receive no gift from her.
So complete was the power of Anne over him at this time, that he was less
free than the least of his subjects; and this power she continued to exercise

during the entire year then beginning, and a few months longer. Chapuys
told the Emperor that one day Henry had met his daughter walking in the
fields, but did not say much to her, except to ask her how she was, and to
assure her that in future he would see her more often. “It is certain,” he
continued, “that the King dares [not] bring her where the Lady is, for she
does not wish to see her or hear of her.” He thought that the King would
have talked with Mary longer and more familiarly, if the Lady had not sent
two of her people to listen. The Princess, he adds, was to be at Windsor
during her father’s absence in France, whither he was to be accompanied by
Anne, and the Queen was very much afraid that he would marry his
mistress at the impending interview with the French king. “But the Lady
has assured some person in whom she trusts, that even if the King wished,
she would not consent, for she wishes it to be done here, in the place where
queens are wont to be married and crowned.”[93]
In anticipation of the journey to France, Anne had been created
Marchioness of Pembroke on the 1st September 1532,[94] and was to appear
at the meeting with Francis, in great state as the future queen; but as no
royal lady could be prevailed on to meet her, not even the Queen of
Navarre, who was supposed to be her friend, she was obliged to go
unattended by a suite.[95]
She accompanied Henry to Calais, and remained there while he
proceeded to join Francis at Boulogne. The two Kings returned together to
Calais, and Francis presented Anne with a valuable jewel, complimenting
her much on her beautiful dancing. But all this was humiliation compared
with the ambitious hopes she had founded on the meeting, and she was
more than ever impatient for her marriage, when she imagined that slights
would no longer be her portion.
Warham had died on the 23rd August, and Cranmer, already prominent as
a creature of Henry’s and of the Boleyns, and a zealous favourer of the
divorce, was at once put forward as a candidate for the vacant see of
Canterbury. His election was pushed on, in the hope that if the Pope gave an
adverse sentence, the new archbishop might then dissolve the King’s
marriage by his own authority. But some time must necessarily elapse
before the bulls of consecration could be issued, and meanwhile matters
were precipitated by Anne’s announcement in January 1533, that Henry

might expect an heir to the Crown. It was necessary, if this passionately
hoped-for heir was to be Prince of Wales, that Henry and Anne should be
married at once.[96] The ceremony was accordingly performed at York
Place, on the 25th January, by Rowland Lee, one of the King’s chaplains,
whom Henry deceived with the assurance that he had leave from the Pope
to contract a new marriage. The event was at first kept secret even from
Cranmer, who was informed of it a fortnight later, but Chapuys, ever
vigilant and alert, discovered that it had taken place, and informed the
Emperor, naming the date as the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul.[97] The
object of the secrecy was twofold; first, in order that a semblance of
friendship might be kept up with the Pope till he had granted Cranmer’s
bulls, and also that the date of the marriage might be afterwards falsified to
claim legitimacy for Anne’s child.[98]
The bulls arrived in March, and Cranmer was immediately consecrated
Archbishop of Canterbury. The next step was to pronounce sentence of
divorce. A court was opened at Dunstable, on the 10th May, and the Queen
cited to appear before it. On her failing to do so, Cranmer declared her
contumacious, and on the 23rd, proceeded to pronounce her marriage null,
Henry himself dictating the form of the sentence.[99]
Katharine, when she was informed of this proceeding, was at Ampthill,
near Dunstable, whither she had been removed from Buckden or Bugden, a
house which she had occupied for some months, very inferior to the More,
and very damp in winter, belonging to Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, one of
the first promoters of the divorce. Since her arrival at Ampthill, Henry had
twice sent to her to inform her of his marriage with Anne, and to forbid her
any longer to take the title of Queen. She was henceforth to be styled
Princess Dowager, to retire to one of the houses settled on her by his
brother, Prince Arthur, and live on a small income, as the King would no
longer pay her expenses, or the wages of her servants. She answered on
both occasions with calmness and dignity, that as long as she lived she
would call herself Queen, but that if the King objected to the expense of her
allowance, she would be contented with what she had, and with her
confessor, physician, apothecary and two women, would go wherever he
wished. If food for herself and servants failed her, she would go and beg for
the love of God.[100]

Anne was now triumphant. Her coronation was fixed for the 1st June,
and the nearer she approached to the desired goal, the more insolent became
her conduct and language.[101] Already, on the 10th April, Chapuys had
written with great earnestness to the Emperor, urging him to make war upon
Henry, considering the very great injury done to madame, his aunt, “for it is
to be feared,” so ran the letter, “that the moment this accursed Anne sets her
foot firmly in the stirrup she will try to do the Queen all the harm she
possibly can, and the Princess also, which is the thing your aunt dreads
most. Indeed, I hear she has lately boasted that she will make of the
Princess a maid-of-honour in her royal household, that she may perhaps
give her too much dinner on some occasion, or marry her to some varlet,
which would be an irreparable evil.”[102]
In another part of the same letter he says: “I hear that the King is about to
forbid every one, under pain of death, to speak in public or private, in
favour of the Queen. After that, he will most likely proceed to greater
extremities, unless God and your Majesty prevent it. Again, I beseech your
Majesty to forgive me if I dare give advice in such matters, for besides the
above causes, the great pity I have for the Queen and the Princess, your
Majesty’s aunt and niece (sic), absolutely compel me to take this course.
Though the King is by nature kind and generously inclined, this Anne has
so perverted him, that he does not seem the same man. It is therefore to be
feared that unless your Majesty applies a prompt remedy to this evil, the
Lady will not relent in her persecution, until she actually finishes with
Queen Katharine, as she once did with Cardinal Wolsey, whom she did not
hate half so much. The Queen, however, is not afraid for herself; what she
cares most for is the Princess.”
And again, in the same letter: “The Queen is to take the title of old
dowager Princess. As for the Princess Mary, no title has been yet given to
her,” and Chapuys fancies that they will wait to settle this until “la dame
aye faict lenfant”.[103]
Anne’s coronation in Westminster Abbey, magnificent as a ceremony and
a procession, was marked by an absence of popular enthusiasm amounting
to general stupefaction. The crowd, silent and sullen, could not be
persuaded to take off their hats and cry “God save the Queen,” and when
one of Anne’s attendants told the lord mayor to order them to cheer as

usual, he answered that he “could not command people’s hearts, and even
the King could not do so”. The court and the nobility did their best to grace
the ceremony, but the Duchess of Norfolk refused to be present, and no one
was surprised, for her loyalty to Queen Katharine was known.
Henry had caused his own and Anne’s initials, H. and A., to be
interwoven in every imaginable device, but the people interpreted them
derisively—Ha! ha! They even went so far as to insult the French
ambassador and his suite, because they were known to be Anne’s friends,
calling them “French dogs”.[104]
When Katharine left Ampthill to return to Buckden, all the
neighbourhood turned out to do her honour. In defiance of the order not to
style her queen, they shouted at the top of their voices: “Long live Queen
Katharine,” wishing her joy, repose, and prosperity, and confusion to her
enemies. They begged her with tears, to set them to work and employ them
in her service, protesting that they were ready to die for her.[105] A few days
before, Henry had sent Lord Mountjoy, her chamberlain, and several other
gentlemen to Ampthill, to tell her once more that she must henceforth bear
the title of Dowager-Princess of Wales. But she declared that she would
never accept service from any one, or answer any one who addressed her by
that title. On being shown the report of the interview with her, which had
been drawn up by the deputation, she crossed out the words Dowager-
Princess wherever they appeared.
The news of Henry’s independent action, and of Cranmer’s sentence at
Dunstable, had duly reached the Pope’s ears, and had brought the cause
before the Rota[106] to a sudden climax. A brief was at once issued,
declaring that Cranmer, and all those who had co-operated with him in the
matter, had incurred the greater excommunication, and the Papal anathemas
were prepared. Henry appealed from the authority of the Pope to a General
Council, and withdrew his ambassador from Rome. It was the beginning of
the breach with the Pope.
On the 7th September, Anne gave birth to a daughter, and Chapuys wrote
to Charles: “The Lady’s daughter has been christened Elizabeth, not Mary
as I wrote in my last despatch. The christening ceremony was as dull and
disagreeable (mal playcante) as the mother’s coronation. Neither at court

nor at this city of London nor elsewhere have there been bonfires,
illuminations, and rejoicings customary on such occasions. Immediately
after the christening of this daughter of the King a herald, standing at the
gate of the church, proclaimed her Princess of England; and previously to
that, that is, immediately after the child’s birth, the same herald announced
that the good, true, and legitimate Princess (of Wales) was no longer to be
called so; the badges usually borne by her laquais on their coats-of-arms
were instantly removed, and replaced by the King’s skutcheon. In fact, a
rumour is afloat, and not without foundation, that her household and
allowance are to be shortly reduced. May God in His infinite mercy prevent
a still worse treatment. Meanwhile, the Princess, prudent and virtuous as
she naturally is, has taken all these things with patience, trusting entirely in
God’s mercy and goodness. She has addressed to her mother, the Queen, a
most wonderful letter, full of consolation and comfort. I shall not fail,
however, after hearing the Queen’s wishes, and receiving her orders, to
remonstrate and protest against so enormous an injury and injustice, as the
one just inflicted upon her and her daughter, the Princess, though I very
much fear—and indeed am almost sure—that all my remonstrances will
lead to nothing, for certainly, the King’s obdurate sin, and his own
misfortune have so shut his ears that no arguments of any sort or prayers
shall be listened to. Indeed, something more than mere words will be
required to make him return to the right path.”[107]
But Anne would allow of no respite in the persecution of Henry’s wife
and daughter, and the King was now committed to a systematic policy, by
which they were to be reduced to submission. A document now in the
Record Office, endorsed “Articles to be proposed to my lady Mary,” marks
the next act of the drama. They are as follows: “Articles to be proponed and
showed on our behalf unto our daughter, lady Mary, and all other the
officers and servants of her household, by our right trusty and right well-
beloved cousin and councillors, the earls of Oxford, Essex and Sussex, and
by our trusty and right well-beloved clerk and councillor, the Dean of our
Chapel, whom we send at this time unto our said daughter.
“1. They are to assemble on Wednesday next, at Chemsforth
(Chelmsford) and after communicating with each other on their charge,
repair to Beaulieu (New Hall) where our said daughter now abides, and

there declare their credence as follows, by the mouth of the Dean of the
Chapel, viz.:—
“2. That the King is surprised to be informed both by lord Husaye’s
letters, and by his said daughter’s own, delivered by one of her servants,
that she, forgetting her filial duty and allegiance, attempts, in spite of the
commandment given her by lord Hussy, and by the letters of Sir Will.
Pallett, controller of the Household, arrogantly to usurp the title of Princess,
pretending to be heir apparent, and encourages to do the like, declaring that
she cannot in conscience, think but she is the King’s lawful daughter, born
in true matrimony, and believes the King in his own conscience thinks the
same. That to prevent her pernicious example spreading, they have been
commanded to declare to her the folly and danger of her conduct, and how
the King intends that she shall use herself henceforth, both as to her title
and as to her household. That she has worthily deserved the King’s high
displeasure and punishment by law, but that on her conforming to his will,
he may incline of his fatherly pity to promote her welfare.”
Mary had thus written to her father on the 2nd October:—
“This morning my chamberlain came and informed me that he had
received a letter from Sir Will. Paulet, controller of your House, to the
effect that I should remove at once to Hertford Castle.
“I desired to see the letter, in which was written ‘the lady Mary, the
King’s daughter,’ leaving out the name of Princess. I marvelled at this,
thinking your Grace was not privy to it, not doubting but you take me for
your lawful daughter, born in true matrimony. If I agreed to the contrary, I
should offend God; in all other things, you shall find me an obedient
daughter. From your manor of Beaulieu, 2 Oct.”[108]
On the 16th, the imperial ambassador again writes:—
“Nothing new has occurred since the date of my last despatch, except that
the King has made the Princess, his daughter, move from the fine house in
which she was dwelling to a very wretched one, most unfit for this present
season. He has done still more, the Princess’s residence he has given, or let
—I cannot say which—to lord Rochefort, the brother of the Lady, who is
already furnishing it, and sending thither his household servants. I omitted

in my last despatch to specify all the names of those who had gone, by the
King’s commands, to speak to the Princess. These were: the earls of Auffort
(Oxford), Excez (Essex), and Succez (Sussex), and Dr. Sampson, all of
whom tried by prayers, threats and persuasions innumerable, to make her
give up the name and title of Princess, and submit entirely to her father’s
will, in this respect, as God commands. But the Princess, I am told, replied
so wisely and discreetly, that the said lords knew not what to say, and all
shed tears in consequence (et ny eust personne a la compagnie que ne
pleurast bien chauldement). And I hear also, that following her mother’s
example, she would never consent to hear them in private; but insisted on
their delivering the King’s message in public, and before all her household
assembled for the purpose. She was no doubt afraid, as she has since
declared, that in the absence of witnesses, the King’s deputies might make
some statement to her prejudice or disadvantage. It is impossible for me to
describe the love and affection which the English bear to their Princess; but
they are already so much accustomed to see and tolerate such disorderly
things, that they tacitly commit the redress of the same to God, and to your
Majesty.“
It was about this time, that Katharine, upon the warning she had received
from Chapuys, wrote the following letter to Mary:—
“Daughter, I heard such tidings to-day, that I do perceive, if it is true, the
time is come that Almighty God will prove you; and I am very glad of it, for
I trust He doth handle you with a good love. I beseech you, agree to His
pleasure with a merry heart; and be you sure, that without fail, He will not
suffer you to perish, if you beware to offend Him. I pray you, good
daughter, to offer yourself to Him. If any pangs come to you,[109] shrive
yourself; first make you clean; take heed of His commandments, and keep
them as near as He will give you grace to do, for then are you sure armed.
And if this lady do come to you, as it is spoken, if she do bring you a letter
from the King, I am sure, in the self-same letter, you shall be commanded
what you shall do. Answer you with few words, obeying the King your
father in everything, save that you will not offend God, and lose your own
soul; and go no further with learning and disputation in the matter. And
wheresoever and in whatsoever company you shall come, [obey] the King’s
commandments. Speak you few words, and meddle nothing. I will send you
two books in Latin: one shall be De Vita Christi, with the declaration of the

Gospels, and the other the Epistles of Hierome, that he did write always to
St. Paula and Eustochium; and in them I trust you shall see good things.
And sometimes, for your recreation, use your virginals, if you have any. But
one thing specially I desire you, for the love you do owe unto God, and unto
me, to keep your heart with a chaste mind, and your body from all ill and
wanton company, [not] thinking nor desiring any husband, for Christ’s
Passion; neither determine yourself to any manner of living, until this
troublesome time be past, for I dare make you sure that you shall see a very
good end, and better than you can desire. I would God, good daughter, that
you did know with how good a heart I do write this letter unto you. I never
did one with a better, for I perceive very well that God loveth you. I beseech
Him of His goodness to continue it; and if it fortune that you shall have
nobody to be with you of your acquaintance, I think it best to keep your
keys yourself, for howsoever it is, so shall be done as shall please them.
And now you shall begin, and by likelihood I shall follow. I set not a rush
by it; for when they have done the uttermost they can, then I am sure of the
amendment. I pray you recommend me unto my good lady Salisbury, and
pray her to have a good heart, for we never come to the Kingdom of
Heaven but by troubles. Daughter, wheresoever you become, take no pain
to send for (to?) me, for if I may I will send to you.

“By your loving mother, Katharine, the Queen.”[110]

FOOTNOTES:
[64] Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary, Introductory Memoir.
[65] The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria, p. 80 et seq.
[66] Brewer, Cal., vol. iv., pt. i., 1263.

[67] It was reported that Wolsey, having been told by a fortune-teller that his ruin
would be wrought through a woman, thought that woman to be Queen Katharine,
and that in order to prevent her from being his undoing, he determined to bring her
low. He put it into the head of the King’s confessor to suggest to him that he had
committed sin in marrying his brother’s wife (Vatican Archives, Record Office
transcripts, Bliss, portfolio 53).
[68] The First Divorce of Henry VIII. as told in the State Papers, by Mrs. Hope
edited by Francis Aidan Gasquet, D.D., O.S.B., p. 43 et seq.
[69] Brewer, Cal., vol. iv., pt. ii., 3231.
[70] Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, was led to believe that Henry wished, by the
investigation, to establish the validity of his marriage, because it had been
impugned by the French bishop.
[71] Holograph letter in Latin, Record Office.
[72] Vives, Opera, vii., 134.
[73] Paul Friedmann, Anne Boleyn, vol. i., p. 128.
[74] The series of love-letters addressed by Henry to Anne Boleyn in 1527 and
1528, and preserved in the Vatican Archives, leave no possible doubt as to the
relations existing between the King and Anne at that time. A summary of their
contents is contained in Brewer’s 4th Cal., 3218-21, 3325-26, 3990, 4383, 4403,
4410, 4477, 4537, 4539, 4597, 4648, 4742, 4894.
[75] Chapuys to Charles V., 29th April 1531, Vienna Archives.
[76] Gairdner, Cal., v., 308.
[77] Gairdner, Cal., v., 361.
[78] Ibid., vi., 347, 401, 426.
[79] Venetian Calendar, vol. iv., 682.
[80] An obvious mistake. He imagined that the Salic law pertained in England.
[81] Sanuto Diaries, vol. lvii., p. 475.
[82] Ibid., vol. lviii., p. 125.
[83] Sanuto Diaries, vol. lviii.
[84] On the 27th September, 1531, a warrant was issued to the Master of the
Great Wardrobe, “to deliver for the use of the Princess: 1, a gown of cloth of silver
tissue, the same to be lined with plain cloth of silver; 2, a gown of purple velvet, to
be lined with the same; 3, a gown of black tinsel to be lined with the same; 4, a
gown of right crimson satin, to be lined with cloth of gold of tissue; 5, a gown of
black velvet lukes, furred with ermines—every of the said gowns to contain eleven
and a half yards; 6, a nightgown of black velvet of ten yards, furred with coney; 7,
a kirtle of cloth of gold, with works and sleeves of the same; 8, a kirtle of cloth of
silver tissue and sleeves of the same; 9, a kirtle of black tinsel with sleeves of the
same; every of the said kirtles with sleeves to contain seven and a half yards; 10, as

much right satin as will line the hood and sleeves thereof; 11, a cloak case of satin
of Bruges; 12, two parteletts, one of black velvet and the other of black satin, lined
with sarsanet; 13, one piece of fine Holland cloth at 3s. 4d. the ell for smocks; 14,
twenty ells of fine cambric for railles; 15, six pieces of pointing riband and for
garters; 16, eight ounces of lacing riband; 17, one piece of broad riband for girdles;
18, sixteen pair of velvet shoes; 21, three French hoods; 22, a yard of white satin, a
yard of crimson satin, and a yard of black velvet for billements for the same; 23, a
night bonnet of ermines; 24, a dozen lawn parteletts; 25, ten thousand pins; 26, one
pound of thread; 27, two hundred needles; 28, one pound of silk of divers colours;
29, four brushes and four rubbers; 30, twenty ells of linen cloth at 10d. the ell for
certain necessaries; and to pay for the making and furring all the premises.
Waltham Monastery, 27 Sep., 1531. Signed and sealed” (Record Office).
[85] Sanuto Diaries, vol. lvi., p. 257.
[86] The Regent, Louise of Savoy, told the Scotch ambassador, that she knew the
Queen and Council were too wise to give up an ancient friend for an enemy who
wished to become reconciled to Scotland, in order to separate it from France
(Teulet, i., 49).
[87] Henry confessed to Chapuys that the father was said to be mad, and it was
not known whether the son would be so too, but that they would rather marry the
Princess to him than to the Scotch King (Chapuys to Charles V., 28th June 1532,
Vienna Archives).
[88] Add. MS. 28,581, fol. 262, B. M.
[89] Gairdner, Cal., v., 1131.
[90] Apologia Reg., Pole ad Carolum V. Four books on the Unity of the Church.
[91] Camusat, 35.
[92] See Jewels Delivered to the King by Cornelius Hayes, Record Office.
[93] Gairdner, Cal., v., 1377.
[94] Mr. Friedmann considers (vol. i., p. 163) that this was the moment when
Anne became Henry’s mistress; but the love-letters which the King addressed to
her in 1528-29 point to a different conclusion.
[95] Camusat, Meslanges, vol. ii., f. 106. Chapuys writes that: Not content with
having given her all his own jewels, Henry sent the Duke of Norfolk to try to
obtain the Queen’s also. Katharine replied “that she would not send jewels or
anything else to the King, as he had long ago forbidden her to do so; and besides, it
was against her conscience to give her jewels to adorn a person who was the
scandal of Christendom, and a disgrace to the King who was taking her to such an
assembly; however, if the King sent expressly to ask for them, she would obey him
in this as in other things. Though he was vexed at what she said, he did not fail to
send for them by one of his own chamber, who had letters to the Queen’s
chancellor and chamberlain as well as to herself. The man told her, the King was
surprised that she had not sent her jewels, as the Queen of France and many others
had done. She excused herself, and sent all she had; with which the King was
much pleased” (Gairdner, Cal., v., 1377).

[96] Paul Friedmann, Anne Boleyn, vol. i., p. 182.
[97] Gairdner, Cal., vi., 83, 180.
[98] Sanders, Hall, and those who follow them, assert without the least authority,
that the marriage of Elizabeth’s parents took place in the preceding November.
Chapuys was himself mistaken, in asserting that Cranmer had solemnised it. He
was also wrong in ascribing the fact to Dr. Brown, Prior of the Austin Friars in
London. A letter from Cranmer to N. Hawkins, in the following June, disclaims
any part taken by himself in the marriage, which he says took place “about St.
Paul’s Day” (Archæologia, p. 81). Stowe makes the following statement: “King
Henry privilie married the Lady Anne Boleine on the five and twentieth day of
January, being S. Paules Day. Mistress Anne Savage bore uppe Queene Anne’s
traine, and was herself shortly after marryed to the lord Barkley; doctor Rowland
Lee that marryed the King to Queene Anne was made Bishop of Chester, then
Bishop of Coventry and Litchfield, and president of Wales” (Annals, p. 561).
Harpsfield’s account (in The Pretended Divorce) is the same, with more detail, as
is also Le Grand’s translation from a Latin MS. in his Histoire du Divorce (vol. ii.,
p. 110).
[99] Gairdner, Cal., vi., 525-29.
[100] Ibid., pp. 150, 167, Chapuys to Charles V.
[101] She took the Queen’s barge, and caused Katharine’s arms painted on it to be
mutilated. She then appropriated it to herself, and used it for her triumphal
progress up the river from Greenwich, on the eve of her coronation. “God grant,”
said Chapuys, “she may content herself with the said barge, and the jewels and
husband of the Queen, without attempting anything, as I have heretofore written,
against the persons of the Queen and Princess.” In the same letter he quotes
Cromwell’s remarks on the great modesty and patience of the Queen, “not only
now, but before the divorce, the King being continually inclined to amours”
(Gairdner, Cal., vi., 556).
[102] Gayangos, England and Spain, Cal., vol. iv., pt. ii., 1058.
[103] As the time approached, Anne’s exultation overcame every remnant of
decency and good feeling: “The Lady not being satisfied with what she has
received already, has solicited the King to ask the Queen for a very rich triumphal
cloth, which she brought from Spain, to wrap up her children with at baptism,
which she would be glad to make use of very soon. The Queen has replied that it
has not pleased God she should be so ill advised as to grant any favor, in a case so
horrible and abominable” (Gairdner, Cal., vi., 918).
[104] Gairdner, Cal., vi., 263, 266, 295.
[105] Ibid., vi., 918.
[106] The tribunal of the Rota has the first place among the tribunals of the
Roman curia. Its auditors are also chaplains of the Pope, and the causes which they
are to try they receive from him by special commission. To the competence of the
Rota belongs business which is truly and strictly judicial. The Rota has never given
judgment in criminal matters (Urbis et Orbis, pp. 282, 297, 346).

[107] Gayangos, Cal., vol. iv., pt. ii., p. 795.
[108] Heylin, History of Queen Mary, 10.
[109] Pricks of conscience.
[110] Arundel MS. 151, fol. 194, Brit. Mus. This letter was printed by Burnet
with several inaccuracies.

CHAPTER IV.
VIA DOLOROSA.
1533-1536.
A crisis of some sort was generally thought to be at hand, although its
precise nature remained a mystery for a few days longer. The King’s
subjects made no secret of their satisfaction, because Anne had not fulfilled
the confident prognostications of the astrologers, who had flattered her with
assurances that she would present Henry with a son. Not only did they
rejoice in her disappointed ambition, and in the visible cooling of Henry’s
passion, but they now began to entertain hopes that Mary would not be so
completely set aside in the succession as they had been led to expect.
The satisfaction and the hope were, however, short-lived, and on the 3rd
November, Chapuys communicated to the Emperor the further untoward
progress of events.[111]
“Not satisfied with having taken away from his own legitimate daughter
the name and title of princess, as intimated in a former despatch, the King
has lately been talking of removing—and has actually begun to do so—all
the officers and servants of her princely household, on the plea that they
have encouraged her in her disobedience. This the King has done, as he
says, to daunt and intimidate her; he has even gone so far as to demand that
she (the Princess) should go and live as ‘demoiselle d’honneur’ to his
bastard daughter, at which, your Majesty may guess, both the Queen and the
Princess are marvellously disturbed, and in great trouble. They sent to me a
week ago in this emergency and begged I would speak to Cromwell, and
see what could be done to arrest the blow. I immediately sent to the
Princess, a protest drawn in due form for her to sign and keep secret,
declaring that neither by word nor deed, expressly nor tacitly, had she ever
consented to anything that may prejudice her or her right. I have besides put
down in writing several candid and temperate statements, to be addressed to
those who might come with such a proposition in her father’s name. In case
however, of there being no help at all, she was, I said, to have patience, for

she would not have to suffer long. Should the King send some one to her on
such an errand, she was to say from the very first, that if the King her father
wished it to be so, she submitted, but that she protested, in due form,
against whatever might be done to her prejudice. These words I wrote down
for her, she was to learn them by heart, and repeat them daily, surrounded
by her most confidential servants.”
The blow fell speedily, and on the 16th December, Chapuys told his
master that what he had feared had come to pass:[112]—
“According to the determination come to by the King about the treatment
of the Princess and the bastard, of which I wrote in my last, the said bastard
was taken three days ago to a house seventeen miles from here [Hatfield],
and although there was a shorter and better road, yet for greater solemnity,
and to insinuate to the people that she is the true Princess, she was taken
through this town [London] with the company which I wrote in my last; and
next day, the Duke of Norfolk went to the Princess, to tell her that her father
desired her to go to the court and service of the said bastard, whom he
named Princess. The Princess answered that the title belonged to herself,
and to no other, making many very wise remonstrances, that what had been
proposed to her was strange and dishonourable. To which, the Duke could
not reply. After much talk, he said he had not come there to dispute, but to
accomplish the King’s will; and the Princess, seeing that it was needless
excusing herself, demanded half an hour’s respite to go to her chamber,
where she remained about that time—to make, as I know, a protestation
which I had sent her, in order that if compelled by force or fraud to
renounce her rights, or enter a nunnery, it might not be to her prejudice. On
returning from her chamber, she said to the Duke, that since the King her
father was so pleased, she would not disobey him, begging him to intercede
with the King for the recompense of her servants, that they might have at
least a year’s wages. She then asked what company she should bring. The
Duke said it was not necessary to bring much, for she would find plenty
where she was going; and so she parted, with a very small suite. Her
gouvernante [the Countess of Salisbury], daughter of the late Duke of
Clarence and near kinswoman to the King, a lady of virtue and honor, if
there be one in England, has offered to follow and serve her at her own
expense, with an honorable train. But it was out of the question that this
would be accepted; for in that case, they would have no power over the

Princess, whom it is to be feared, they mean to kill, either with grief or
otherwise, or make her renounce her right, or marry basely, or make her
stain her honour, to have ground for disinheriting her—since
notwithstanding the remonstrances I have hitherto made, touching the
Princess, to which I have had no reply, the King has proceeded to such
excesses; and considering that my words only served to irritate him, and
make him more fierce and obstinate, I have resolved not again to address to
him a single word, except he obliges me, without a command from the
Queen.”
In the same letter he says:—
“You cannot imagine the grief of all the people at this abominable
government. They are so transported with indignation at what passes, that
they complain that your Majesty takes no steps in it, and I am told by many
respectable people, that they would be glad to see a fleet come hither in
your name, to raise the people; and if they had any chief among themselves,
who dared raise his head, they would require no more.”
After signing the formal protest which Chapuys had drawn up for her,
Mary allowed herself to be placed in a litter, and conveyed to Hatfield,
where Elizabeth, then three months old, was provided with an
establishment. Dr. Fox, the King’s almoner, rode by the side of the litter, in
order to guard the Princess, and prevent any excessive outbreak of
indignation on the part of the populace. Nevertheless, according to Anne’s
scornful remark, Mary was treated, in the villages through which she
passed, “as if she were God Himself who had descended from heaven”.
Moreover, Dr. Fox, Henry’s own agent, took the opportunity of telling her
that she had done well, not to submit, and he implored her for the love of
God, and the welfare of the realm, to remain firm.

On the 23rd December, Chapuys continues his narrative:[113]—
“When the Princess, who was taken off with only two attendants, had
arrived where the bastard was, the Duke (of Suffolk) asked her whether she
would not go and pay her respects to the Princess. She replied, that she
knew no other Princess in England except herself, and that the daughter of
Madame de Penebrok (sic) had no such title; but that it was true, that since
the King her father acknowledged her to be his, she might call her ‘sister,’

as she called the Duke of Richmond ‘brother’. On her removing, the Duke
asked her what word he should carry to the King; to which she replied:
‘Nothing else except that his daughter, the Princess, begged his blessing;’
and when he said that he would not carry such a message, she told him
curtly, he might leave it; and after protesting several times, that what she
did at the King’s command, should not be to her prejudice, she retired to
weep in her chamber, as she does continually. Though the said Duke treated
her very roughly, the King reproached him for not having accomplished his
charge; that he went about it too softly; and he was resolved to take steps to
abate the stubbornness and pride of the Princess.”
Meanwhile, the same measure was to be meted out to mother and
daughter, and the Duke of Suffolk, albeit “he went about it too softly,” was
in each case Henry’s faithful agent.
Katharine was allowed to remain undisturbed at Buckden, till Mary was
removed from Beaulieu, when it was resolved to send her to Somersham, in
the Isle of Ely, a place surrounded with deep water and marshes, the most
unhealthy and pestilential spot in England. Katharine, knowing what
awaited her there, refused to stir, and for six days, Henry’s commissioners
remained with her, using persuasion and threats in vain. She shut herself up
in her room, and told them through a hole in the wall, that if they would
take her away they must break open the doors, and carry her off by force.
This they dared not do, for fear of the people; and the Duke of Suffolk was
obliged to depart with his mission entirely unfulfilled. To do him justice, it
must be remarked that he was extremely loth to undertake it.

“The Duke of Suffolk,” wrote Chapuys,[114] “as I am informed by his
wife’s mother, confessed on the Sacrament, and wished some mischief
might happen to him, to excuse himself from this journey. The King, at the
solicitation of the Lady, whom he dares not contradict, has determined to
place the Queen in the said house, either to get rid of her, or to make sure of
her, as the house is strong; and besides, it is seven miles from another
house, situated in a lake, which one cannot approach within six miles,
except on one side; and the King and the Lady have agreed to seek all
possible occasions to shut up the Queen within the said island, and failing
all other pretexts to accuse her of being insane.”

Nothing is more apparent, in all that Chapuys writes at this time, than
Henry’s weakness in whatever concerned Anne. His passion for her was
already on the wane, but he dared not disregard her least wish, and her
empire over him, although exercised by different means, was as great as it
had ever been. One day he set out for Hatfield, to pay a visit to the little
Elizabeth, and at the same time, to try all that persuasion and threats from
his own lips could do, to reduce Mary to submission, and induce her to give
up her title. Anne, considering his “easiness or lightness (if any one dared to
call it so), and that the beauty, virtue and prudence of the Princess might
assuage his wrath and cause him to treat her better,” sent Cromwell and
other messengers after him to prevent his seeing or speaking with his
daughter Mary. Accordingly, Henry, before arriving at the house, sent on
orders that she was not to come to him, and while he was there, he
delegated to Cromwell, to the treasurer, and to the captain of the guard, the
office of remonstrating with her. But to all their arguments she replied that
she had already given a decided answer, that it was labour wasted to press
her further, and that they were deceived if they thought that rudeness, bad
treatment, or even the fear of death would shake her determination. While
her father was with Elizabeth, she sent to ask leave to come and kiss his
hand; but this request he dared not grant. Just, however, as he was about to
mount his horse, he looked up (Chapuys is uncertain whether by chance or
whether his attention was directed by some one present) to the terrace on
the top of the house, and saw Mary on her knees, with her hands clasped.
He bowed to her, and put his hand to his hat, whereupon all present, who
had before this not dared to look at her, “saluted her reverently with signs of
goodwill and compassion”.[115]
The ambassador continues:—
“The day before yesterday, the Lady having heard of the prudent replies
of the Princess, complained to the King that he did not keep her close
enough, and that she was badly advised, as her answers could not have been
made without the suggestion of others, and that he had promised that none
should speak to her without his knowing it. Twenty days ago, the King said
to the Marquis [of Saluce, who had come with a proposal of marriage] that
the trust the Princess had in your Majesty made her obstinate, but he would
bring her to the point, as he feared neither the Emperor nor any other, if the
Marquis and other vassals were loyal, as he thought they would be; they

must not trip or vary, for fear of losing their heads, and he would keep such
good watch, that no letters could be received from beyond sea, without his
knowing it. Besides his trust in his subjects, he has great hope in the
Queen’s death. He lately told the French ambassador, that she could not live
long, as she was dropsical, an illness she was never subject to before. It is to
be feared, something has been done to bring it on. I told Gregory Casale of
this saying of the King’s, and he replied that he thought of renouncing the
King’s service before leaving here, and of setting up the white banner....
The Queen has not been out of her room since the Duke of Suffolk was with
her, except to hear Mass in a gallery. She will not eat nor drink what the
new servants provide. The little she eats, in her anguish, is prepared by her
chamberwomen, and her room is used as her kitchen. She is very badly
lodged; she desires me to write to you about it.”

On the 11th February he continues:[116]—
“The French ambassador told me that the King on returning from a visit
to his new daughter, said that he had not spoken to the Princess, on account
of her obstinacy, which came from her Spanish blood; and when the
ambassador remarked that she had been very well brought up, the tears
came into his eyes, and he could not refrain from praising her. Anne is
aware of the King’s affection for the Princess, and does not cease to plot
against her. A gentleman told me yesterday, that the Earl of Northumberland
told him, that he knew for certain she had determined to poison the
Princess. The Earl may know something of it from his familiarity and credit
with Anne. The Princess has been warned to be on her guard, but if God do
not help her, it will be difficult for her to protect herself for long. I do not
know any other remedy, except to persuade the Scotch ambassador to make
the King and his Council believe that his master will not make peace unless
the right of succession, on the death of the Princess is reserved to him. This
he has promised to do, and said he would come and see me yesterday about
it, without caring for the suspicions these people might have. I thought also
that the Princess, after making solemn protestations of compulsion and
danger, might offer to the King to be content not to be called Princess, if she
was allowed to reside with the Queen; but Anne might be encouraged to
execute her wicked will from fear of a reconciliation between the Princess
and her father, and would be able to do it with less suspicion, under colour
of friendship, than now that her hatred and enmity is open. Perhaps also,

those who now favour the Princess would become cool towards her, not
knowing the cause of her actions, nor the protestations. A gentleman told
me that Anne had sent to her father’s sister (Alice, widow of Sir Thomas
Clere of Ormesby, in Norfolk), who has charge of the Princess, telling her
not to allow her to use that title, and if she did otherwise, she must box her
ears as a cursed bastard—quelle luy donnast des buffes comme a une
mauldicte bastarde telle quelle estoit. The Princess has been used to
breakfast in her chamber, and then come to table in public, but neither eat
nor drink, but Anne has now ordered that she shall not be served in her
chamber. She is going to see her daughter, the first Thursday in Lent, and
will stay two days. I pray this may not be to the injury of the Princess. The
French ambassador said he was astonished that good guard was not kept
about the Princess, to keep her from being carried away, as it would totally
ruin the King if she were to cross the sea. This agrees with what I have
already written, that the King did not care to marry her on the other side of
the sea.”
Mary’s condition became daily worse. Her position in Elizabeth’s
household was rather that of an attendant, than of a lady-in-waiting, and to
the humiliations showered upon the unhappy girl was now added the want
of the barest necessaries of life. The “pearl of the kingdom” was less well
provided for than the meanest of her father’s subjects. Failing all other
methods, she was to be starved into a surrender, and if she would not dine at
the common table, was to have nothing to eat at all. Anne’s vindictiveness
increased, when some peasants, assembling under Mary’s balcony, cheered
the poor prisoner, calling her their rightful Princess. Chapuys’ despatch of
the 21st February chronicles what is perhaps the high-water mark of her
disgrace.

“The Princess,” he writes,[117] “finding herself nearly destitute of clothes
and other necessaries, has been compelled to send a gentleman to the King.
She ordered him to take money or the clothes, but not to accept any writing
in which she was not entitled Princess. He was also charged to ask leave for
her to attend Mass, at the church which adjoins the house, but this was not
allowed. As the country people seeing her walk along a gallery saluted her
as their princess, she is now kept much closer, and nothing done without the
leave of the sister of Anne Boleyn’s father, who has charge of her. The Duke
of Norfolk, and Anne’s brother lately reprimanded her for behaving to the

Princess with too much respect and kindness, saying that she ought only to
be treated as a bastard. She replied, that even if the Princess were only the
bastard of a poor gentleman, she deserved honour and good treatment for
her goodness and virtues. The Princess is well in health, and bears her
troubles with patience, trusting in God and your Majesty, and showed no
better cheer in her prosperity than now. God grant that this may not irritate
this accursed Lady to carry out her detestable imaginations.”
Charles was not unmindful of the perils which surrounded his aunt and
cousin, but he was greatly embarrassed for means to help them. Henry was
deaf to persuasive arguments; the argument of force still remained to be
applied, but this would involve the Emperor in a series of complications,
out of which he did not see his way. If he made war on Henry, he would
have to reckon with Henry’s ally and his own enemy, the King of France,
who was by no means so scrupulous a Catholic, that he would hesitate to
take up a hostile attitude towards the Pope, in a matter which was
considered by the rest of Christendom as the Pope’s peculiar province.
Henry had effected a formal rupture with Rome, and still Francis was as
friendly to him as before. Moreover, the French court, although it had
professed to be shocked by Anne’s effrontery, was known to favour the new
Queen secretly; and dominating all these other difficulties was the
Emperor’s accumulated debt to Henry, which his nephew was less than ever
in a position to pay. A chess-board policy was therefore all that was possible
in the actual state of affairs. Not any amount of sacrifices on the part of
Charles would avail to help his aunt’s cause, and the letter which he wrote
at this juncture to his ambassador in France, is alike a voucher for the
accuracy of Chapuys’ narrative of affairs in England, and a confession of
weakness by the Emperor.
“You have done well,” he writes, “to report what you have heard
touching practices against the Princess of England, and what the King of
France has said to you touching the King of England’s rupture with the
Pope and the Holy See, and his making alliance with the Lutherans, and
pretending that the Queen our aunt is ill. We have heard the same from our
ambassador in England, much to our grief. And you are to tell Francis that
the more Henry disowns obedience to the Holy See, the more he ought to
support it. As to the report spread by the King of England, that the Queen
our aunt is ill, you are to take an opportunity of telling him that she is in

very good health of body, notwithstanding her ill-treatment, and that the
spreading of such a report is very suspicious—all the more, as they have put
her in a very unhealthy habitation, and taken away her physician, and
almost all her servants, so that the essai of viands is no longer made. You
have done right to inform Cifuentes[118] of this, although our ambassador in
England has also done so.”[119]
Whether Chapuys was right in thinking that Anne would make a pretence
of friendship with Mary, in order to destroy her more completely, or
whether, having tried her utmost to break the Princess’s spirit, she now
thought to win her enemy by gentler means, it is certain that in March 1534
she suddenly changed her tactics.
She went to Hatfield, ostensibly to see Elizabeth, but as soon as she
arrived, she sent a message to Mary inviting her to come and salute her as
the queen she was. If Mary would do so, Anne promised that she would
intercede with her father on her behalf.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Mary replied that she knew no queen in
England but her mother; but she would be much obliged if the Lady Anne
Boleyn would be a means to the King in her favour. Anne tried again, sent a
fresh message, but was again repulsed, whereupon she threatened “to break
the haughtiness of this unbridled Spanish blood”.[120]
But if Anne’s hatred increased from this moment, her power to influence
Henry was visibly on the decline. Her very threats are henceforth indicative
of her weakened hold on his inconstant mind. In the course of the year
1534, there was a question of his departure for France, and Anne was more
than once heard to say, that when he had crossed the sea, and she remained
in England as regent, she would use her authority to put Mary to death,
either by starving her or otherwise. When her brother, Lord Rochford
represented to her that this would anger the King, she replied that she did
not care, even if she were burned alive for it afterwards. “The Princess,”
adds Chapuys, “quite expects this, and thinking that she could not better
gain Paradise than by such a death, shows no concern, trusting only in God,
whom she has always served well, and does still better now. Having spoken
to the Queen, by her advice, I will make remonstrances; but I know not if
they will do any good.”[121]

In a formal letter of protest, dated 7th June 1534, against the treatment
she had received, in being declared illegitimate, and deprived of her title of
Princess of Wales, Mary declared that she would not enter a convent, or
take any such step at the will of her father, without the free consent of her
mother. The strange mixture of firmness, self-reliance and sweetness in her
behaviour at this time, was a source of wonder and admiration to all not
utterly devoid of human pity, and even strangers were impressed with such
conduct in a girl of eighteen, whose whole life appeared to be one perpetual
lesson on the “uses of adversity”.
Chapuys told the French Admiral on his visit to England “that those who
had shown him the Tower, and several other things, had not shown him the
principal gem of all the kingdom, to wit the Princess. He replied that he was
as much vexed as possible, that he had no opportunity of seeing her,
although he had several times spoken about her, and used means to that
effect. I asked if he had been refused a sight of her, and he confessed that he
had not expressly requested it, but that the King never would come to the
point. He added that he had never heard a lady so praised as the Princess,
even by those who were giving her trouble; and certainly he was her
devoted servant, both on account of her great virtue, and because she was so
nearly related to the Queen his mistress,[122] and that he hoped for certain,
soon to do her good service.”[123]
Chapuys had now begun to speak very openly to the King and Cromwell,
insisting on the discussion of matters over which they would rather have
drawn a veil. Of some of these Cromwell declared that “neither sugar nor
sauce would make them go down”.
It was evident to the envoy, that all their hope lay in the Queen’s death,
and he was at no pains to conceal the fact that he had fathomed their
designs. He had petitioned the King for leave to attend Parliament when
Katharine’s cause was tried, and to state her case plainly. But Henry
refused, on the plea that it was not customary for foreigners to be present at
parliamentary debates. Chapuys protested that there had never been such a
case before, and that no Parliament could stigmatise the birth of the
Princess, for the cognizance of such cases belonged to ecclesiastical judges,
and that even if his marriage with the Queen were null, Mary was still his
legitimate daughter, owing to the lawful ignorance of her parents. The

Archbishop of Canterbury, he declared, had not dared to cast a slur on her
birth, and the King himself had considered her as the heir to the throne,
until the birth of his new daughter. Henry seemed more moved by this, than
by anything else that Chapuys had said; but he still maintained that there
was no need for Katharine, or any one else to be summoned to Parliament,
as he himself being a party could not be there, and that according to the
laws of the kingdom, Mary was unable to succeed, and there was no other
Princess except his daughter Elizabeth, who was the heir, until he had a son,
which he thought would happen soon, adding that he did not care for all the
canons which might be alleged, as he preferred his own laws, according to
which he would have legitimacy judged by lay judges, who could also take
cognizance of matrimonial causes. “As,” remarked Chapuys, “I thought this
was strange, he said he would send me books. I asked him to do so, and also
to show me the law which, he says, makes against the Princess; but he will
do neither the one nor the other, for he will not find what he wants.”[124]
Soon after Anne’s visit to Hatfield, Elizabeth was removed to the More,
and Mary, thinking that she would prejudice her own and her mother’s
cause by consenting to go in her suite, declared that she had no objection to
go to the same place either before or after Elizabeth, but that she would not
pay court to her on the road, unless she was led by force. She was
accordingly put into a litter, when she took the opportunity of making a
public protest. Chapuys thought this ill-advised, since it might only serve to
irritate the King, and draw upon herself worse treatment than before, “at the
desire of his mistress, who is constantly plotting the worst she can against
the Princess”.

SIR THOMAS MORE, LORD CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND.
From the original portrait by Holbein.

The shrewdness of the ambassador was not at fault, and Mary was treated
more rigorously than ever. When Henry paid a visit of two days to the
More, she was commanded not to leave her room, and was told that her
father did not care in the least, whether she renounced her title or not, since
by statute she was now declared illegitimate, and incapable of succeeding.
It was also reported to her, that Henry had said he would make her lose her
head, for violating the laws of his realm. She was constantly watched, so
that it was extremely difficult for her to communicate this new danger to

Chapuys. Her ingenuity provided her, however, with a means which proved
successful. Her old schoolmaster and friend, Master Featherstone, happened
to be in the house, and Mary asked to speak with him privately. This being
refused, she contrived to tell him what she wished he should know, without
exciting the suspicion of the bystanders. She began to say to him that she
had been now so long without speaking Latin, that she could not say two
words properly, and he desiring to judge for himself, asked her to say
something in that language. Then she told him what the King had said that
day, no one present understanding Latin. He was astounded, and could only
answer, that that was not good Latin, and immediately sent to inform
Chapuys,[125] who related the occurrence to the Emperor. In the same
despatch the envoy says:—
“It is feared the King will put to death the Bishop of Rochester, and Mr.
More, late Chancellor, who, as I lately wrote, are confined in the Tower
with others, for refusal to swear. The Scotch ambassadors laugh at this
King, with good reason, for imagining to strengthen his cause and his laws
by this oath violently extorted, for it rather tends to show that they are
worth nothing, since they require such help to maintain them.”
On the 14th May he wrote:—
“Some days ago the King asked his mistress’s aunt, who has charge of
the Princess, if the latter had abated her obstinacy, and on being answered
‘No,’ he said there must be some one about her who encouraged her, and
conveyed news from the Queen, her mother. The said gouvernante, on
consideration, could suspect no one, except the maid of whom I lately
wrote, who had been compelled to swear, and on this suspicion, she drove
her out, and she has been for some days without any one to go to, or means
to support herself. The Princess has been much grieved at this, for she was
the only one in whom she had confidence, and by her means, she had letters
from me and others. The Queen also is very sorry, but still more because the
King has taken from the Princess her confessor, a very good man, and given
her another who is a Lutheran, and a tool of his own. During the last few
days, the King perceiving that neither by force nor menaces could he get his
way with the said Princess, or for some other reasons, has shown her more
honour than usual, and used more gracious words, begging that she would
lay aside her obstinacy, and he would promise her before Michaelmas to

make such a bargain with her, that she should enjoy a royal title and dignity,
to which, among 1000 other wise answers, she replied that God had not so
blinded her as to confess for any kingdom on earth that the King, her father,
and the Queen, her mother, had so long lived in adultery, nor would she
contravene the ordinance of the Church, and make herself a bastard. She
believes firmly that this dissimulation the King uses is only the more easily
to attain his end, and cover poison. But she says she cares little, having full
confidence in God, that she will go straight to Paradise, and be quit of the
tribulations of this world; and her only grief is about the troubles of the
Queen, her mother.”[126]
Seeing that she was liable to make mistakes, if guided by her own
inexperience, Mary was anxious in future to do nothing without Chapuys’
advice, as the following letter from the ambassador shows:—
“The Princess, understanding of late that the King intended she should
remove, and accompany the Bastard, sent to me three times in less than
twenty-four hours to know what to do. I wrote back to her each time,
resolving her scruples, that even if she did obey the King without
opposition or protestation, all that the King desired in this respect could do
no prejudice to the protestations already made. Nevertheless, I thought that
to prevent her father and his lady imagining she was worn out, and
conquered by ill-treatment, she should speak boldly, and with her
accustomed modesty, but not go to the extremity of allowing herself to be
taken by force, as on the former occasion. I wrote to her at full length what
she ought to say; not that it was necessary, considering her good sense, but
because she desired me. She played her part so well, that the Comptroller
promised her she should not go after the other. Nevertheless, on her coming
to the first door of the lodging, there was the litter of the Bastard, and the
Princess was compelled to go out after her, the Comptroller allowing her, as
soon as she was mounted, to go before or after, as she pleased; on which
account, she suddenly pushed forward, and arrived at Greenwich about an
hour before the Bastard. When she came to enter the barge, she took care to
secure the most honourable place. I had intimated to her that I would go to
Greenwich to see her pass; and she sent to beg me to do so, as earnestly as
she could. I was there accordingly in disguise, and it was a great pleasure to
see such excellent beauty, accompanied by heroic bearing, which all the
more increased the pity to see her so treated.”[127]

A little later Chapuys, continuing his narrative, says:—
“Although Cromwell assured me of the goodwill the King bore the
Princess, I should scarcely have believed it, but for some other things,
which make it probable. For the King has commanded that she shall be well
treated; and on Wednesday, before leaving the More, she was visited by
nearly all the gentlemen and ladies of the court, to the Lady’s great
annoyance. On Thursday, the day before yesterday, being at Richmond with
the little lass, the Lady came to see her said daughter, accompanied by the
dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk and others, including some of the ladies,
which was a novelty; and she refused to leave her chamber till the Lady was
gone, that she might not see her. The first time that the said Princess
accompanied the said little one, she was placed in a litter covered with
leather; but on leaving the More, she had one of velvet like the other, in
which she came to Richmond; and being there, both to avoid following the
litter of the other, and because she was pleased to see me in passing, she let
the little one go by land, and came herself by water. In the evening, she
arranged with the bargemen to row her along the bank where she pleased,
and immediately gave notice to me, that I would not fail to be at a certain
house, which I keep in the fields by the river, between Greenwich and this
town, to inhabit in time of plague, for she wished to see me, and requite my
going to see her at Greenwich, when she passed. She accordingly persuaded
the steersman, instead of going by one side of the river, to take the other,
and from the time she came near enough to see me, she caused the barge to
be uncovered, and went on deck in the most conspicuous place, and passed
quite near where I was, never moving from the place she had taken up to
look at me, until she had lost sight of me. She is, thank God, in very good
health and en bon point, and appears to be happy and very cheerful. I
notified to her before she left the More, that as the King’s severity was
abating, she must take care not to give him any cause of offence, and as the
protestation I had counselled her to make preserved her from all danger, she
ought to make no difficulty about following the Bastard, but should declare
that she was very glad in this to satisfy the King her father, and from that
proceeded the visit paid to her at Richmond,[128] of which I have written
above, and the licence to come by water without accompanying the
other.”[129]

Early in 1535, Mary fell ill, and Henry in a moment of relenting, not only
allowed her mother’s physician and apothecary to attend her, but sent his
own physician, Dr. Buttes. The only stipulations made were that they must
see her in the presence of witnesses, speak in no language but English, and
pay their respects on their arrival to Elizabeth, before being conducted to
Mary. The latter part of the order could not, however, be carried out, as it
arrived too late.[130] Katharine eagerly seized the opportunity of Henry’s
sudden kindness to entreat that her daughter might be sent to her, a petition
that was answered with the singular concession, that the King would send
her to a house near her mother, provided that the two did not meet. Her
letter to Cromwell, in acknowledging his services in the negotiation, such as
they were, is as pathetic as it is dignified.
“My good friend,” wrote Katharine, “you have laid me under great
obligation by the trouble you have taken in speaking to the King, my lord,
about the coming of my daughter to me. I hope God will reward you, as you
know it is out of my power to give you anything but my goodwill. As to the
answer given you, that the King is content to take her to some house near
me, provided I do not see her, I beg you will give him my hearty thanks for
the good he does to his daughter and mine, and for the peace of mind he has
given me. You may assure him, that if she were but a mile from me I would
not see her, because the time does not permit me to go visiting, and if I
wished it, I have not the means. But you may tell his Majesty, it was my
wish that he should send her where I am, as the comfort and cheerfulness
she would have with me would be half her cure. I have found this by
experience, being ill of the same sickness, and as my request was so
reasonable, and touched so greatly the honour and conscience of the King, I
did not think it would be denied me. Do not forbear, I beseech you, and do
what you can that it may be so. I have heard that he had some suspicion of
her security—a thing so unreasonable that I cannot believe it entered into
his heart, nor do I think he has so little confidence in me. If such a thing be
assumed, I beg you to tell his Majesty, it is my fixed determination to die in
this kingdom; and I offer my person as security that if such a thing be
attempted, he may do justice upon me as the most traitorous woman that
ever was born.”[131]
Katharine made another attempt to get possession of her daughter; and
the letter which she wrote to Chapuys with that object is very touching in its

tender, maternal anxiety:—
“My physician has informed me partly of my daughter’s illness, giving
me hope of her improved health; but as I know her infirmity lasts so long,
and I see he is slow to visit her (although for some days he could not, as I
was so ill myself), I have great suspicion as to the cause. So because it
appears to me that what I ask is just, and for the service of God, I beg you
will speak to his Highness, and desire him, on my behalf, to do such a
charity as to send his daughter and mine where I am; because treating her
with my own hands, and by the advice both of other physicians and of my
own, if God pleases to take her from this world, my heart will rest satisfied;
otherwise, in great pain. You shall also say to his Highness that there is no
need of any other person but myself to nurse her; that I will put her in my
own bed where I sleep, and will watch her when needful. I have recourse to
you, knowing that there is no one in this kingdom who dare say to the King
my lord, that which I desire you to say; and I pray God reward you for the
diligence that you will make.”[132]
Immediately after receiving this letter, Chapuys asked Cromwell to
arrange an interview with the King, which was assigned for the next
morning. When he had read the letter aloud to Henry, the ambassador
supported it by all the arguments he could think of, and instead of replying,
as usual, that he knew better than any one else how to provide for his
daughter, Henry answered gently that he wished to do his utmost for her
health, but that he must not forget what was due to his own honour, which
would be injured if she were taken out of the kingdom, or if she herself
escaped, as she might easily do, by night, if she were with her mother, for
he had begun to suspect the Emperor of designs for getting her away.
Chapuys craftily allayed this suspicion, but Henry went on to say that
there was no great occasion to confide Mary again to her mother’s hands,
for it was Katharine who had put it into her head to show such obstinacy
and disobedience, as all the world knew; and although sons and daughters
were bound to show some obedience towards their mothers, their chief duty
was to their fathers, and since the Princess could not have much help from
the Queen, and it was clear the whole matter proceeded from her, Mary
must submit to his pleasure. Chapuys then asked that she might, at least,
have her old governess, Lady Salisbury, whom she regarded as her second

mother. But Henry declared that she was a fool, of no experience, and that if
his daughter had been under her care, she would have died, for Lady
Salisbury would not have known what to do, whereas her present governess
was an expert lady. All the physicians were apparently agreed, that Mary’s
illness was caused by distress and sorrow, and that if the Princess were
placed where she might enjoy a modicum of brightness and pleasure, and
might be allowed to take exercise, her cure would be effected.
Dr. Buttes urged the responsibility he would incur in attending her, unless
she were within reach of her mother’s medical adviser and apothecary, for
in the event of her death he might be accused of foul play. Chapuys
expressed a hope that some of Mary’s old and loyal servants would be sent
to her, to keep her cheerful; but he recommended that her governess should
not be changed, for he feared lest some one should give her a slow poison;
whereas Anne’s aunt had long been warned that she would be suspected, if
anything untoward happened to her charge. There was, she was told, a
common belief in London, that she had already attempted to poison the
Princess, so that the poor creature was terribly alarmed, and could do
nothing but weep and lament whenever Mary was ill. Cromwell agreed that
Chapuys’ demands were just, “but matters,” he said, “were rather hard of
digestion, and he couldn’t get his master to chew them”.
In spite of all efforts, nothing was done to better Mary’s condition. But
her illness abated, and on the 23rd March the ambassador told Cardinal
Granvelle, that the Princess was well again, and “better than some would
have her. She may be called,” he continued, “the paragon of beauty,
goodness and virtue.” But she was constitutionally delicate, and suffered all
her life, from a malady aggravated by the grief and sorrow which
overwhelmed her in her youth. The violent attack which prostrated her in
the beginning of 1535 followed immediately upon the information that had
been conveyed to her at Christmas, of the statute lately framed against those
who refused to acknowledge the King’s second marriage, and upon the
command made directly to her, to renounce her title and her mother’s, and
to take the oath of supremacy. A refusal, she was told, rendered her liable to
instant imprisonment, and danger of death.
In clinging to mere formulas, Mary was influenced by no pride or
obstinacy, for in yielding she would have implicitly repudiated her mother’s

marriage, and have admitted a slur on her own birth. While maintaining her
title she vindicated both.
Chapuys was now more thoroughly alarmed for Mary’s safety than ever,
and the Emperor began to make plans for spiriting his cousin over to
Flanders. “As to the possibility of withdrawing the Princess from hence,”
the envoy declared, “the thing is so hazardous at present, that I doubt if she
would listen to it. For besides that one must put oneself at the mercy of the
wind, she is so strictly guarded that I can scarcely communicate to her
anything; for apart from her indisposition, I have only suggested to her
whether she would not like to be beyond the sea, and she replied that she
desired nothing else.”[133] Shortly afterwards he continues: “Whatever
pretence the King makes about the Princess’s illness, he has been very cold;
in fact, she was taken ill on Friday, and he did not send his physician thither
till Thursday after, and I do not know if he would have gone even then if I
had not importuned Cromwell. On Friday afterwards she was let blood, and
on Monday following, when I spoke to the King, he did not know she had
been let blood, or anything about her condition. Since the first news, I have
sent to her four or five times, by my servants, who make a poor report of
her treatment, and of her company. She sent to me yesterday, two persons,
to beg that I would continue to send some of my servants to her, for that
caused her to be better respected. Your Majesty may consider what solace
and pastime she can have with those about her, hearing them desire her
death, by which, they say, the world would be at peace, and they, discharged
of the pain and trouble they have had about her. As to getting her away from
hence, it could be accomplished by having a pinnace on the river (Mary was
then at Greenwich) and two armed ships at the mouth of the river; at least I
could find means to get her out of the house almost at any hour of the
night.”
On the 5th April he says:—
“The Princess, in order not to be altogether shut up, has remained ten or
twelve days at Greenwich, since the little one was removed thence. On the
1st inst., she left for the house of which I wrote formerly. She wished to go
on horseback, but as three of my servants were mounted to accompany her,
those who had charge of her made her enter the litter, and her gouvernante
along with her, and there she remained, till my servants took leave of her,

six miles from here. The litter was covered with velvet, and was by far the
most honourable she had had since her misfortunes. This favour has been
allowed to her this year, besides that the King, her father, has sent her since
Christmas, on two occasions, sixty or eighty ducats. Since the little Bastard
removed from Greenwich, considering that one of the galleons of La
Renterie was on the other side of the river, and that there were some other
Spanish ships here, by means of which the Princess might be saved, I sent
to her to know if she would agree to it. She gave ready ear to the
suggestion, saying she desired nothing else, and has since sent two or three
times for my man, to solicit the matter; but her sudden departure broke off
the enterprise, to which also, I did not dare commit myself, not having
commandment from your Majesty, considering the practices put in train,
since it pleased you to charge me to write what means there might be of
withdrawing her. Nevertheless, the said Princess continues in her purpose to
go away, and has sent to desire me by my servant, who has just come from
seeing her, that, for the love of God, I will contrive to remove her from the
danger, which is otherwise inevitable, adding that where she is now, there is
no means of saving her by night, and that as soon as it was fine weather, she
would go out walking, to see what arrangement could be made to come
upon her by surprise, in the daytime, and so that it should appear as little as
possible that it was by her consent; for the sake of her own honour, and the
less to irritate the King, her father. The house where she lies is twelve miles
from this river, and if once she could be found alone, it would be easier to
save her than it is at Greenwich, for we could put her on board beyond
Gravesend, past the danger of this river. The matter is hazardous, and your
Majesty will take it into due consideration.”
The same day, he wrote to Granvelle:—
“If I were to tell you the messages she sent me at her leaving Greenwich,
and again this morning, you could not refrain from tears, begging me to
have pity on her, and advise her as I thought best, and she would obey....
“If the Princess going out to sport were once seized, and put on
horseback, and there were ready a great ship or two and a row boat, the
thing would be done. Except her guards, and some of the other side, the
people would help her, and those sent in pursuit would shut their eyes, and
bless those who had carried her off.”[134]

About this time, Mary and Elizabeth had removed to Eltham, and Anne
Boleyn again paid her daughter a visit. In The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess
of Feria, it is recorded of this visit[135] that the Princess Mary, and the Lady
Anne Boleyn “heard Mass together in one room. At the end of Mass, the
Lady Mary made a low curtsy, and went to her lodging; so did the Lady
Anne, then called queen. When she came to her quarter, one of her maids
told her that the Lady Mary at parting made reverence to her, she answered
that she did not observe it, and said: ‘If we had seen it, we would have done
as much to her,’ and presently sent a lady of honour to her to excuse it;
adding, that the love of none should be dearer nor more respected than hers,
and she would embrace it with the kindness of a true friend. The lady that
carried the message came when the Lady Mary was sat down at dinner.
When admitted, she said: ‘The queen salutes your grace with much
affection, and craves pardon, understanding that at your parting from the
oratory, you made a curtsy to her, which, if she had seen, she would have
answered you with the like; and she desires that this may be an entrance of
friendly correspondence which your grace shall find completely to be
embraced on her part’. ‘It is not possible,’ answered the Lady Mary, ‘that
the queen can send me such a message; nor is it fit she should, nor can it be
so sudden, her majesty being so far from this place. You would have said
the Lady Anne Boleyne, for I can acknowledge no other queen but my
mother, nor esteem them my friends who are not hers. And for the reverence
that I made, it was to the altar, to her Maker and mine; and so, they are
deceived, and deceive her who tell her otherwise.’ The Lady Anne was
maddened with this answer, replying that one day she would pull down this
high spirit.”
In 1534, Mary’s position was momentarily alleviated by the influence of
a friend at court, a young lady, who had for the time being taken the King’s
roving fancy,[136] and who sent the Princess word to be of good cheer, and
that her troubles would sooner come to an end than she supposed, and that
when the opportunity occurred, she would show herself Mary’s true and
devoted servant.[137] Anne was furiously jealous, and intrigued with her
sister-in-law, Lady Rochford, to have the young woman removed from
court. But Henry discovered the plot, and banished Lady Rochford. The
new favourite’s influence was remarked to increase daily, while Anne’s
diminished, “which,” said Chapuys, “has already abated a good deal of her

insolence”. Cromwell told him that he had received a charge from the King,
that Mary should be well treated, and that if he found those about her did
not do their duty, he was to have them punished, and that henceforth he
should not have much difficulty in getting due respect paid to her,
considering Henry’s paternal affection.
However, Anne’s influence although diminished still had periods of
revival, and Mary was made to suffer for every sign of returning affection
which her father manifested towards her in his moments of reaction.
“As to the King being dissatisfied with the Lady,” said Chapuys, “it is
true he sometimes shows it, but as I have written before, they are lovers’
quarrels, and not much weight is to be attached to them, unless the love of
the King for the young lady of whom I wrote to you should grow warm, and
continue some time; of which it is impossible to form a judgment,
considering the changeableness of this King. I have learned from the Master
of the Horse, that when the Lady began to complain of the said young lady,
because she did not do, either in word or deed, the reverence she expected,
the King went away from her very angry, complaining of her importunity.”
Describing an interview with Cromwell, Chapuys again wrote to the
Emperor on the 17th April. He continues:—
“He (Cromwell) then replied to me, as he had several times told me, that
it was the Princess, who created the difficulty, and troubled matters, and
that if it pleased God—he did not dare to say more, but it was quite clear
what he wished. I again spoke about placing her with the Queen, her
mother, but it was of no use; and on my saying that if any illness overtook
her, where she is, evil might befall, before she received succour, he only
answered that it was no question of illness, and that she was not likely to
fall into it. But he was a bad prophet; and yesterday morning I sent him two
of my servants, booted and spurred, who had just returned from the Princess
in great haste (they had seen her the day before yesterday) to inform him
that she had had a relapse, and desire that he would notify the King, to send
thither the physician and servants he might think necessary. This he
promised to do; but I fear he will not do it, or that even if he does, the King
will make no account of it. Ill as the Princess is, she does not cease to think
if there be any means of escaping; and on this subject she had a long

conversation with one of my men, begging me most urgently to think over
the matter, otherwise she considered herself lost, knowing that they wanted
only to kill her. She has not had leisure to visit the neighbourhood, nor to
devise means how she could get away, night or day. And because I see the
thing is difficult, I keep her in hope of a speedy remedy by some other
means, and endeavour to remove her suspicion that foul play is intended
against her. Cromwell has always given me to understand that he is much
devoted to the Princess; nevertheless, I have found no evidence of it except
words.... Your Majesty may consider how the good Princess is placed.”[138]
Soon afterwards the scheme was abandoned, on account of the
difficulties in the way, and on the 25th April, Chapuys was able to report
that Mary was well again:—
“The Princess, thank God, has recovered. The King at my request sent
her his physician, lending his own horses, for want of which, among other
reasons the said physician had excused himself. But when the King told him
that it concerned his honour, especially, seeing that he had promised to send
him whenever the Queen’s physician should be there, all excuses ceased.
He had only made them indeed, not for want of good will to serve the
Princess, but to avoid the suspicion, in which he was held by the King and
his lady, of too much devotion to her, and also to give occasion for the
Princess being near the Queen, and under the care of her physician; and the
said physician is of the King’s Chamber with the great people and those of
the Council. He understands many things. He told the Queen’s physician
that there were only two ways to remedy the affairs of the Queen and the
Princess, and of all the realm. The first was, if God should visit this King
with some little illness. Then besides that of himself he might come to a
better mind, he would also take patiently the remonstrances made to him.
The other way would be to try force, of which he says, the King and those
about him are wonderfully afraid.”
Chapuys then informed the Emperor that “the said physician” had told
him, that if the Emperor would make war, the right time had come, and that
he knew for certain “of a score of the principal lords of England, and more
than a hundred knights, who were quite ready to employ their persons,
goods, friends and dependants, if they had the smallest assistance from your
Majesty, and that as aforesaid, the time is most favourable, because the

people are every day more dissatisfied at the taxation, for the levying of
which, they are beginning to depute commissioners to enquire the value of
every one’s goods, and assess them accordingly”.[139] All over the country
prevailed a discontent, which not daring to break out into open rebellion
took refuge in seditious words, and a sullen, almost threatening attitude.
People were constantly arrested for speeches, such as: “It was a pity that the
King was not buried in his swaddling clothes,” and “It was to be hoped that
the Lady Anne would be brought full low,” and “We shall have no merry
world till we have a new change,” etc.[140] But in spite of these mutterings,
Henry inspired more terror even than hatred. The butchery of the Carthusian
monks for refusing the oath of supremacy was followed quickly by the trial
and execution of More and Fisher. Katharine and Mary were in a desperate
position. Cromwell asked Chapuys what evil or danger would arise from
the death of the Princess, even if it did excite the indignation of the people,
and what cause the Emperor would have to be offended by it.[141]
Nevertheless, Henry was scarcely less to be pitied than his victims. The
nation needed little encouragement to revolt. His treatment of the Queen
and Princess, though not the whole cause of the disaffection, was a large
factor in the rebellious temper of the people. But if to please them he
showed Mary a little kindness, Anne left him no peace. He was, it is true,
beginning to weary of his fetters, and sometimes inquired anxiously
whether Anne too might not be divorced. Not, replied his otherwise
complaisant advisers, unless he took back Katharine,[142] and he was not
prepared for such a humiliation in the eyes of Europe. It would look,
forsooth, as if he submitted after all to the Pope’s decree, and all that he had
done with a high hand would have to be undone. There was no alternative
but to carry out the policy he had determined upon, but his embarrassment
was not lessened when Francis, through the French Admiral, demanded
Mary’s hand for the Duke of Angoulême. Clearly, Henry had not succeeded
in convincing the world, or even his one friend, the French King, that
Katharine was not his wife, or in getting him to take Anne’s queenship
seriously. The subject of Mary’s betrothal to the Duke of Orleans had been
tacitly dropped since the divorce. It was no longer a part of Henry’s plan to
marry his elder daughter honourably, or to allow her to leave the kingdom,
and at first he pretended to regard the Admiral’s commission as a joke. The
Duke of Angoulême, he said, had much better marry the true Princess,

Elizabeth, and so the matter rested; but Francis would not take Henry’s line
with regard to Mary. When in the autumn of 1535 he sent ambassadors to
England for the purpose of drawing the King into a war with the Emperor,
they were charged to interview her, and find out how she felt disposed to a
marriage with the Dauphin. Mary had, in fact, not forgotten that she had
been affianced to him as a baby, and would have welcomed any suitable
proposal that would have freed her from the perils of her actual lot. At that
time she was at Eltham with Elizabeth, into whose presence the French
envoys were ushered. To their annoyance they were not even allowed to see
Mary, who had orders to remain in her room while they were in the house,
and to prevent any possible communication between them and her, the
windows of her apartment were bolted. She had inquired of Chapuys
whether she was to obey or not, and as he had advised submission, she
amused herself while the ambassadors were with Elizabeth, by playing on
the virginals.[143]
During the whole of 1535, Mary was in imminent danger. Anne
constantly urged the King to treat her as he had treated Cardinal Fisher,
saying that it was she who caused all his troubles, and as for herself she
declared of the Princess, “She is my death and I am hers; so I will take care
that she shall not laugh at me after my death”.[144] Anne could no longer be
mistaken as to the decline of her power, and expressions such as the above
are indicative that the general terror had reached the former favourite. The
atmosphere was heavy with death, and she knew that all depended for her
on the feeble hope that she might shortly give birth to a son. Henry himself
was not free from the uneasiness which he so well knew how to inspire in
others. Tyrant that he was, he saw danger where no danger lurked, and was
strangely enough misinformed as to the Emperor’s ability to declare war. In
the intervals of disgust which he felt for Anne, he was ready to stave off the
invasion of which he lived in abject fear, by surrounding Mary with a little
more circumstance; but with the revival of his expectations of a son, he
allowed himself to be goaded into fury by her opposition, declaring that his
worst troubles came from his own flesh and blood.
On the 6th November, Chapuys wrote:—
“The Marchioness of Exeter has sent to inform me that the King has
lately said to some of his most confidential councillors, that he would no

longer remain in the trouble, fear and suspense he had so long endured, on
account of the Queen and Princess, and that they should see, at the coming
Parliament, to get him released therefrom, swearing most obstinately that he
would wait no longer. The Marchioness declares this is as true as the
Gospel, and begs me to inform your Majesty, and pray you to have pity
upon the ladies, and for the honour of God and the bond of kin to find a
remedy.”
And again on the 21st:—
“The personage who informed me of what I wrote to your Majesty on the
6th, about the Queen and the Princess, viz., that the King meant to have
them despatched at this next Parliament, came yesterday into this city in
disguise, to confirm what she had sent to me to say, and conjure me to warn
your Majesty, and beg you most earnestly to see to a remedy. She added that
the King, seeing some of those to whom he used this language shed tears,
said that tears and wry faces were of no avail, because, even if he lost his
crown, he would not forbear to carry his purpose into effect. These are
things too monstrous to be believed; but considering what has passed, and
goes on daily—the long continuance of these menaces—and, moreover, that
the Concubine, who long ago conspired the death of the said ladies, and
thinks of nothing but getting rid of them, is the person who governs
everything, and whom the King is unable to contradict, the matter is very
dangerous. The King would fain, as I have already written, make his
Parliament participators, even authors, of such crimes, in order that, losing
all hope of the clemency of your Majesty, the whole people should be the
more determined to defend themselves when necessary.”[145]
To Granvelle he expressed himself thus:—
“The person before mentioned (the Marchioness of Exeter) has sent to
say, that four or five days ago the King, talking about the Princess, said that
he should provide, that soon she would not want any company, and that she
would be an example to show that no one ought to disobey the laws, and
that he meant to fulfil what had been foretold of him—that is, that at the
beginning of his reign he would be gentle as a lamb, and at the end worse
than a lion. He said also that he would despatch those at the Tower, and
some who were not there.”[146]

In the meantime, one of Henry’s victims was nearing the end of her trials,
and reached it even before the meeting of Parliament that was to pass
sentence of death upon her. In the autumn of 1535 Katharine had what
appeared to be a slight illness, from which she seemed to be recovering,
when at Christmas she suddenly grew worse, and sent to Chapuys, begging
him to come to her without delay. He had no great difficulty in obtaining
the necessary permission, although his repeated requests to see Mary, and
for her to visit her mother, had been utterly disregarded. He found the
Queen suffering from extreme emaciation, and from sickness. She was
unable to retain any nourishment whatever; but her condition improved
during the few days that Chapuys remained with her, and she was able to
converse with him, and listen to him for about two hours each day. She also
slept better during that time than she had done before, so that her physician
pronounced her out of danger. Chapuys, “not to abuse the licence” the King
had given him, left Kimbolton, where Katharine was then residing, on the
5th January, but rode slowly, in case a messenger should be sent after him
with the news that she was worse, in which event he had promised to return
to her. On his arrival in London, on the 9th, he sent to ask Cromwell for an
audience with the King. In replying to this request, Cromwell sent word that
the Queen had died little more than forty-eight hours after his leaving her,
and that the news of her death had reached the court on the preceding
Friday. The suddenness of her end, and the circumstances immediately
following it, caused so much suspicion, that at the time there was hardly
any one who did not firmly believe that she had been poisoned. The account
of what passed was thus communicated to the Emperor by Chapuys:—
“The Queen died two hours after midday, and eight hours afterwards, she
was opened, by command of those who had charge of it, on the part of the
King, and no one was allowed to be present, not even her confessor or
physician, but only the candlemaker of the house, and one servant and a
‘compagnon,’ who opened her; and although it was not their business, yet
they have often done such a duty, at least the principal, who on coming out,
told the Bishop of Llandaff, her confessor, but in great secrecy, as a thing
which would cost his life, that he had found the body and all the internal
organs as sound as possible, except the heart, which was quite black and
hideous, and even after he had washed it three times, it did not change
colour. He divided it through the middle, and found the interior of the same

colour, which also would not change on being washed, and also some black,
round thing which clung closely to the outside of the heart. On my man
asking the physician if she had died of poison, he replied that the thing was
too evident, by what has been said to the bishop, her confessor, and if that
had not been disclosed, the thing was sufficiently clear from the report and
circumstance of the illness.
“You could not conceive the joy that the king and those who favour the
concubinage have shown at the death of the good Queen, especially the Earl
of Wiltshire and his son, who said it was a pity the Princess did not keep
company with her. The King, on the Saturday he heard the news,
exclaimed: ‘God be praised that we are free from all suspicion of war,’ and
that the time had come that he would manage the French better than he had
done hitherto, because they would do now whatever he wanted, from a fear
lest he should ally himself again with your Majesty, seeing that the cause
which disturbed your friendship was gone. On the following Sunday, the
King was clad all over in yellow, from top to toe, except the white feather
he had in his bonnet; and the little Bastard was conducted to Mass with
trumpets and other great triumphs. After dinner, the King entered the room
in which the ladies danced, and there did several things, like one
transported with joy. At last he sent for the little Bastard, and carrying her in
his arms, he showed her first to one and then to another. He has done the
like on other days since, and has run some courses at Greenwich.[147]
“This,” added Chapuys, “has been the most cruel news that could come
to me, especially as I fear the good Princess will die of grief, or that the
Concubine will hasten what she has long threatened to do, viz., to kill her,
and it is to be feared that there is little help for it. I will do my best to
comfort her, in which a letter from your Majesty would help greatly.”
Luther, writing about this time to Caspar Müller, says: “The Queen of
England is said to be dead, and her daughter mortally ill; but she has lost
her cause all over the world except with us poor beggars of divines at
Wittenberg, who would gladly have maintained her in her queenly dignity;
in which case she ought to have lived”.[148]
Katharine was buried with no more ceremony than befitted a Princess
Dowager, some said with much less, in Peterborough Cathedral, where her

remains still lie.
It was intended to have kept her mother’s death a secret from Mary for
some time, but by a mistake the news was brought to her four days after the
event. To Chapuys’ letter of condolence she answered, that following his
advice, “she would show such courage and constancy as he advised her, but
that in any case she would prepare herself to die”.
“She has written to me,” said the ambassador, “since she heard the death
of the Queen more frequently than she did before, and this I think to testify
the good heart and constancy to which I continually exhort her, in which
certainly she shows great sense and incomparable virtue and patience, to
bear so becomingly the death of such a mother, to whom she bore as much
love as any daughter did to her mother, who was her chief refuge in her
troubles.”
These events took place at the beginning of 1536, and Shakespeare, who
with his collaborators wrote his play of “King Henry VIII.” at the end of the
same century, had not only Holinshed’s Chronicle, and other records to
guide him, but a mass of still floating tradition. He had grown to middle
age, surrounded by persons who were in their prime when Mary’s and her
mother’s troubles were in the mouths of all. He knew of, and described
Chapuys’ visit to the dying Queen, and recorded in the following words,
part of the contents of a letter sent by her to her husband:—
... I have commended to his goodness
The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter,—
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!—
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding,
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature;
I hope she will deserve well;) and a little
To love her for her mother’s sake, that loved him,
Heaven knows how dearly.[149]

FOOTNOTES:
[111] Chapuys to Charles V., 3rd Nov. 1533, Vienna Archives.
[112] Gairdner, Cal., vi., 1528.
[113] Chapuys to Charles V., 23rd Dec. 1533, Vienna Archives. Gairdner, Cal.,
vi., 1558.
[114] Gairdner, Cal., vi., 1558.
[115] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 83, 17th Jan. 1534.
[116] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 171.
[117] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 214.
[118] The Count of Cifuentes, Charles’s ambassador in Rome.
[119] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 225. Granvelle Papers, 11, 90.
[120] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 296, 7th March 1534.
[121] Ibid., 871, 23rd June 1534.
[122] The Emperor’s sister.
[123] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 1507, 5th Dec. 1534.
[124] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 232.
[125] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 530.
[126] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 662.
[127] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 1095.
[128] Probably a mistake for “the More”.
[129] Chapuys to Charles V., 24th Oct. 1534, Vienna Archives. Gairdner, Cal.,
vii., 1297.
[130] Gairdner, Cal., vii., 1193.
[131] Original, in Spanish, in Record Office. Gairdner, Cal., vii., 1126.
[132] Original, in Spanish, in Record Office. Gairdner, Cal., viii., 200.
[133] Gairdner, Cal., viii., 189.
[134] Gairdner, Cal., viii., 501.
[135] Page 81.
[136] Not Jane Seymour.
[137] Chapuys to Charles V., Vienna Archives, P.C., 229, 1, fol. 139.

[138] Gairdner, Cal., viii., 556.
[139] Gairdner, Cal., viii., 590.
[140] Indictments of the 28th April 1535, Record Office.
[141] Gairdner, Cal., viii., 429.
[142] Anne Boleyn, vol. ii., p. 55 note. In the reference given there is a mistake in
the year. It should be 1535, not 1536, when Katharine was dead.
[143] The Bishop of Tarbes to the Bailly of Troyes, Camusat, 21. Gayangos, Cal.,
vol. v., pt. i., p. 551.
[144] Ortiz to the Empress, 22nd Nov. 1535, Add. MS. 28,588, 47, Brit. Mus.
[145] Gairdner, Cal., ix., 776, 861.
[146] Ibid., ix., 862.
[147] Gairdner, Cal., x., 141. Hall, who was always unwilling to admit anything
to Henry’s discredit, says that it was Anne who dressed herself in yellow at the
news of Katharine’s death.
[148] Luther’s Briefe, vol. iv., p. 667.
[149] Act iv., scene ii.

CHAPTER V.
THE GREAT RENUNCIATION.
1536.
Whether there was any truth or not in the sinister rumours concerning
the manner in which Katharine had come by her death, it was natural that
Mary should believe them, and prepare herself for the worst that could
befall her. As early as the 21st January, even before her mother’s obsequies
had taken place in Peterborough Cathedral, Chapuys told his master that a
new campaign had been opened.
“Now the King and the Concubine are planning in several ways to
entangle the Princess in their webs, and compel her to consent to their
damnable statutes and detestable opinions,” wrote the ambassador,
Cromwell having declared that thenceforth there remained nothing to
prevent friendship between the King and the Emperor, but Mary’s
submission. The new tactics were as puzzling as they were cruel. Scarcely
were Mary’s hopes of better times encouraged by some small attention,
such as a present of money for distribution to the poor, on her journeys
from one residence to another, when a fresh act of petty tyranny would fill
her mind with renewed apprehensions. The occasional favours were
probably intended as a blind to the Emperor, while the insults which the
unhappy girl was still made to suffer were instances of Anne’s increasing
spite and fury. Thus Cromwell, after showing her some kindness,
summoned her to deliver up a little cross which her mother had bequeathed
to her. Chapuys estimated that there could not be ten crowns’ worth of gold
in the whole trinket, which contained no jewels, but a fragment of the true
Cross to which Mary had great devotion. “Your Majesty,” said Chapuys, in
relating the circumstance, “may judge what reliance is to be placed upon the
words of these men. I think that God will never give them grace to
recognise their error, lest they should avoid the punishment of their
abominable misdeeds.”[150]

Pending instructions from Charles, his ambassador advised the same line
of conduct which Mary had hitherto followed, urging her “to show as good
courage and constancy as ever, with requisite modesty and dignity,” for if
they began to find her at all shaken, they would pursue her to the end,
without ever leaving her in peace. He thought that they would not insist
very much now, on Mary’s openly renouncing her rights, nor on her
abjuring the Pope’s authority directly, but would be content if she
acknowledged Anne as Queen, a concession that would not cost her much,
her mother being dead. And probably this would have been the case, if
Anne Boleyn had continued to share Henry’s throne. Chapuys told the
Princess to avoid all discussion with the King’s messengers, but to entreat
them to leave her in peace, that she might pray for her mother’s soul, and
for herself, a poor, simple orphan, without experience or counsel, ignorant
of laws and canons. She was to beseech them to intercede with her father on
her behalf, and beg him to have pity on her, and if she thought it necessary
to say more, she might add with her customary gentleness, that as it was not
the custom in England to swear fealty to queens, and that as such a thing
had not been done when her mother was held as Queen, she could not but
suspect that her swearing would be, either directly or indirectly, to her
prejudice. Moreover, if Anne Boleyn really were queen, her swearing or
refusing to swear did not matter, and if she were not, it would be the same.
By the consistorial sentence, her father’s first marriage had been declared
valid, and the second marriage annulled. It had also been declared, that this
lady could not claim the title of queen, for which reason Mary was to say
that she thought she could not in conscience go against the Pope’s
command, and that by so doing she would prejudice her own right.[151]
The Emperor, meanwhile, communicated the news of his aunt’s death to
the Empress in the following letter:—
“Five or six days ago, the news of the demise of her most serene
Highness, the Queen of England arrived, which I felt deeply, as you may
imagine. May God receive her in Paradise, which she certainly deserved, on
account of her extreme goodness and virtue, and the excellent life she led.
About her last illness and death the accounts differ. Some say that it was
produced by a painful affection of the stomach, which lasted upwards of ten
or twelve days; others that the distemper broke out all of a sudden, after
taking some draught, and there is a suspicion, that there was in it, that

which in similar cases is administered. I do not choose to make such an
affirmation, nor do I wish to have it repeated as coming from me, but
nothing can prevent people from judging and commenting upon the event,
according to their own feelings. Of the Princess, my cousin, I hear only that
she is inconsolable at the loss she has sustained, especially when she thinks
of her father’s past behaviour towards herself, and the little favour she can
expect for the future. I trust, however, that God will have pity on her, and
will not permit the great injustice which has been shown her to remain
without some reparation. I have put on mourning, and ordered all the
grandees round me, the high officers of this household as well as the
gentlemen of my chamber and table to do the same, and I myself intend
wearing it until I go to Rome. The exequies have been performed here as is
customary in such cases; there where you are the same ought to be
done.”[152]
But if Mary’s position was fraught with danger, Anne’s was still more so.
The woman for whose sake Henry had quarrelled with the Pope, risked a
war with the Emperor, banished his wife and daughter, executed Fisher,
More and the London Carthusians, had now ceased to charm, or even to
please him. He scarcely spoke to her for weeks together, and those who
understood his methods began to look about for the new favourite. She was
none other than Jane Seymour, one of Anne’s ladies, whom Chapuys
describes as “no great beauty, over twenty-five years old, of middle stature,
and so fair that one would call her rather pale than otherwise”. As for her
virtue, he will not pledge himself, considering that the lady has so long
frequented the English court;[153] she has, however, one title to his
goodwill, inasmuch as she has taken up the Princess’s cause warmly. Anne’s
enemies were careful that the fallen favourite should be informed of her
new cause for dread; and the transports of joy with which she had
welcomed the news of Katharine’s death were soon turned into mourning.
She was frequently seen to weep, “fearing,” said Chapuys, “that they might
do with her as with the good Queen”. Now, at the eleventh hour, it occurred
to her that by conciliating Mary, she might avert her own doom, and she
therefore sent her word that if she would “lay aside her obstinacy, and obey
her father, Queen Anne would be the best friend in the world to her, like
another mother, and would obtain for her anything she liked to ask”. If
Mary wished to come to court, she would be exempted from holding the tail

of the Queen’s gown, and should walk by her side. Lady Shelton, Anne’s
aunt, besought the Princess with hot tears to consider the matter, but Mary
remained firm.
Anne’s rage and despair almost deprived the now wretched woman of
reason, when she found that all her efforts to win her were unavailing. She
wrote to her aunt, who, as if by accident, left the letter in Mary’s oratory,
where the Princess could not fail to see and read it. These were its contents:
—
“My pleasure is that you do not further move the Lady Mary towards the
King’s grace otherwise than it pleases herself. What I have done has been
more for charity than for anything the King or I care what road she takes, or
whether she will change her purpose, for if I have a son, as I hope shortly, I
know what will happen to her, and therefore, considering the Word of God,
to do good to one’s enemy, I wished to warn her beforehand, because I have
daily experience, that the King’s wisdom is such, as not to esteem her
repentance of her rudeness and unnatural obstinacy, when she has no
choice. By the law of God and of the King, she ought clearly to
acknowledge her error and evil conscience, if her blind affection had not so
blinded her eyes that she will see nothing but what pleases herself. Mrs.
Shelton, I beg you not to think to do me any pleasure by turning her from
any of her wilful courses, because she could not do me good or evil; and do
your duty about her, according to the King’s commands, as I am assured
you do.”[154]
Mary, of course, saw the letter, took a copy of it for Chapuys’ instruction,
and laid the original where she had found it.
Of the two women, Anne, at this juncture, inspires the deeper pity. The
overbearing tone of her letter is almost forgotten in the pathetic cry that
escapes her: “If I have a son, as I hope shortly,” a cry which betrays the last
piteous hope of one who has lost all, if this should fail. Mary, it is true,
daily prepared herself for death, which now seemed nearer than ever; but
beyond the natural love of life belonging to youth, and to a mind and heart
keenly sensitive to all the interests that make life worth living, she did not
desire it inordinately. For years she had faced death, and had repeatedly

declared that she would rather die a hundred times than offend God, or do
anything against her honour or conscience.
Anne, on the contrary, had sacrificed everything and everybody to the
gratification of her own vanity, ambition and lightness; and now, abandoned
by the King, the scorn of the court, the laughing-stock of the whole nation,
she could but cling, a shipwrecked waif, to one poor spar, destined, like all
else, to fail her. The day of Katharine’s funeral was a fatal day to the
usurper. She had looked forward with passionate longing to the time when
her rival should cease to exist, and leave her in undisputed possession of her
queenship. And now the time had come, and on that very day, the last
vestige of hope faded from before her eyes. Before night, the news was
circulated in London that she had miscarried, and that the King had treated
her with marked coldness. He had even declared that he had been led to
marry her by witchcraft, that he had grave doubts as to the validity of their
marriage, and as to whether he might consider himself free to take another
wife.[155] Anne sought refuge from Henry’s brutality in recriminations, the
last futile resource of the fallen. Chapuys wrote on the 17th February:—
“The Concubine has since attempted to throw all the blame on the Duke
of Norfolk whom she hates, pretending that her miscarriage was entirely
owing to the shock she received when, six days before, the Duke announced
to her the King’s fall from his horse. But the King knows very well that it
was not that, for his accident was announced to her in a manner not to
create undue alarm, and besides, when she heard of it she seemed quite
indifferent to it.”[156]
Both Mary and Chapuys understood Henry too well to hope for better
times, even now that his aversion from Anne was complete. He would never
content himself with the simple admission that he was weary of her to
loathing, but would contrive to find some means to persuade the world that
he was justified in his resolve to be rid of her. Although he would be
obliged to admit, at least tacitly, that he had been mistaken, in a matter in
which his pride was inextricably involved, and had sacrificed everything for
a creature who had proved worthless, it was not likely that he would make
further humiliating confessions, by owning that his treatment of Katharine
and his daughter had been a mistake also, but rather, lest his enemies should

triumph, would be prepared to send Mary to the block, as he had so often
threatened.
Chapuys revived the plan, therefore, for carrying her abroad; and Mary
thought it would be easy to escape, “if she had something to drug the
women with”. She would have to pass Mistress Shelton’s window, but once
out of the house, she could easily find a way to break or open the garden
gate. So eager was she to breathe the air of freedom, that the envoy
believed, that even were he to advise her to cross the Channel in a sieve she
would do it.[157] He saw, however, that it would be impossible for him to
take an active part in her removal, as suspicion would naturally be directed
at once to him, if the scheme were discovered. He suggested that it might be
as well for him to be recalled, before the actual attempt was made, so that
the vigilance with which the Princess was guarded might be somewhat
relaxed. In accordance with his desire, the Baron de Rœulx was sent from
Flanders with a vessel, in which Mary was to take flight, and which
remained at anchor a little below Gravesend.[158]
Mary was now at Hunsdon, fifteen miles farther from Gravesend than
Greenwich, from whence the first attempt was to have been made; and as it
was thought unsafe to bring the vessel any farther up the river, she would be
obliged to ride forty miles to reach it. This would necessitate relays of
horses, which could not be managed with such rapidity, as to prevent the
risk of discovery. Moreover, the village of Hunsdon was crowded, and the
royal fugitive would have to pass through several such places, where
pursuit would be instantaneous if suspicion were aroused. Keen as Mary
was to reach a place of safety, she was, says Chapuys, more bent on
preventing further sin and misery, than on escaping from the dangers of her
position, seeking a remedy, whereby innumerable souls might be saved
from perdition.[159] But escape was soon found to be impossible, unless the
Princess could be lodged nearer to Gravesend; and Chapuys now began to
talk of conciliation. Henry was evidently determined to get rid of Anne, and
was nothing loth to take another wife. If he died as things were, Mary was
certain to succeed; it was, therefore, to her interest that he should not
contract a true marriage, by which he might have male issue. To this Mary
replied that she did not care how her own interests might be affected, if only
her father could be saved from the sinful life he was leading.[160]

It was perhaps to this attitude that Mary owed Jane Seymour’s espousal
of her cause. The new favourite met Henry’s advances in an exemplary
manner. The King sent her a purse full of gold pieces, and with it a letter.
After kissing the letter, she returned it to the messenger unopened, and
throwing herself on her knees, begged him to represent to the King that she
was a gentlewoman of good and honourable parents, without reproach, and
that she had no greater riches in the world than her honour. If he wished to
make her some present in money, she begged that it might be when God
enabled her to make some honourable match. The purse was returned with
the letter, and Henry’s admiration for Jane advanced by leaps and bounds.
He caused her to be told that he did not intend henceforth to speak with her,
except in the presence of some of her kin. He then made Cromwell dislodge
from a room to which he himself had private access through certain
galleries, and gave it to Jane’s eldest brother and his wife, in order that the
young lady might meet him there in all propriety, and yet unknown to the
world. “She has been well taught,” said the astute Chapuys, “for the most
part by those intimate with the King, who hate the Concubine, that she must
by no means comply with the King’s wishes except by way of marriage, in
which she is quite firm. She is also advised to tell the King boldly how his
marriage is detested by the people, and none consider it lawful; and on the
occasion when she shall bring forward the subject, there ought to be present
none but titled persons, who will say the same, if the King put them upon
their oath of fealty.”[161]
Chapuys was greatly in favour of the projected union with Jane Seymour,
considering it “a great thing both for the security of the Princess, and to
remedy the heresies here, of which the Concubine is the cause and principal
nurse, and also to pluck the King from such an abominable and more than
incestuous marriage.[162] The Princess would be very happy, even if she
were excluded from her inheritance by male issue.”
Henry’s approaching divorce from Anne was hailed with general
satisfaction, the royal secrets being freely commented on by the people, but
something like consternation was felt when, on the 2nd May, it became
known that she had been arrested, and was lodged in the Tower, in the same
apartment which she had occupied at her coronation three years before. It is
happily unnecessary to discuss here the various counts on which the
miserable woman was tried and condemned, the whole painful and

revolting story having already been amply told.[163] Great excitement
prevailed throughout the country, and those who hated Anne most were
horror-struck at the scanty show of justice that accompanied her trial. On
the 17th May, Cranmer declared Elizabeth illegitimate, pronouncing the
marriage of her parents null and void from the beginning. This was a
preliminary step to Anne’s execution, sentence of death having been passed
in the secular courts. If “the Concubine” had been really proved guilty of
the grave charges of immorality brought against her, and if her marriage had
been condemned on a sound judicial basis, there would have been few to
grieve for her fall; but Englishmen have ever been advocates of fair play,
and there was some murmuring at the mode of procedure throughout her
hurried trial. Cranmer had shown himself terrified at the possible result to
himself, for his share in her advancement, and was suspiciously pliant in the
matter of the sentence of divorce. The evidence produced against her in
court was neither confirmed nor rebutted, but some was suppressed, as it
was alleged to be unfit for decent ears.[164]
Henry’s own hypocritical and heartless conduct during the fortnight that
elapsed between Anne’s arrest and execution disgusted even his friends. On
the day of her committal to the Tower, the Duke of Richmond went as usual
to ask his father’s blessing, when Henry, with tears in his eyes, said that
both he and his sister Mary ought to thank God for having escaped from the
hands of that woman, who had planned their death by poison, “from which I
conclude,” added Chapuys, “that the King knew something of her wicked
intentions”.[165] Early in the course of events, Chapuys wrote to the
Emperor:—
“Already it sounds badly in the ears of the public, that the King, after
such ignominy and discredit as the Concubine has brought on his head,
should manifest more joy and pleasure now since her arrest and trial, than
he has ever done on other occasions; for he has daily gone out to dine here
and there with ladies, and sometimes has remained with them till after
midnight. I hear that on one occasion, returning by the river to Greenwich,
the royal barge was actually filled with minstrels and musicians of his
chamber, playing on all sorts of instruments or singing; which state of
things was by many a one compared to the joy and pleasure a man feels in

getting rid of a thin, old and vicious hack, in the hope of getting soon a fine
horse to ride—a very peculiarly agreeable task for this King.”[166]
In the meanwhile, Jane Seymour had been sent to a house about seven
miles from London, where Henry could see her daily when he was at
Hampton Court, and on the 14th May she was lodged with semi-royal
magnificence, at a house on the Thames, in order to be near him at
Greenwich. None of these movements were lost on the people, or on
Chapuys, who expressed his opinion unreservedly that “the little Bastard
would be excluded from the succession,” and that the King would “get
himself requested by Parliament to marry”.
On the 15th, Henry sent a message to Jane, to the effect that she would
hear of Anne’s condemnation at three o’clock that afternoon, and shortly
after dinner, the words were verified. On the 19th, the day of her execution,
as soon as the news of her death was brought to him, he entered his barge,
and went to spend the day with Jane. The following morning, they were
betrothed, not married, as many writers have stated, the marriage ceremony
taking place ten days later.
Anne had persisted to the last, in the declaration of her innocence; but the
often quoted letter, supposed to have been written by her to Henry from the
Tower, and which Burnet printed[167] as authentic, because he had found it
among Cromwell’s papers, must now be considered spurious. That it should
ever have been regarded as genuine, is among the unaccountable beliefs
that have obtained concerning this much misrepresented woman. It
proclaims itself a forgery by the style of its composition and mode of
expression, entirely unlike any of Anne’s recognised and undisputed letters.
The speeches also imputed to her before her execution must be taken with
extreme caution, the opportunity being favourable to romance writers of
every subsequent period, to invent sentiments which neither would nor
could have been uttered or recorded, so great was the terror in which Henry
was held by ministers, judges, courtiers, and the people. On the other hand,
doubt has been thrown on the authenticity of words and actions which,
viewed with their context, are, to say the least, highly probable. Thus Mr.
Friedmann, the able biographer of Anne Boleyn, while he admits that the
one thing that preyed on her mind was her conduct towards the Princess,
discredits the story of her having thrown herself at the feet of Lady

Kingston, wife of the Lieutenant of the Tower, entreating her as a favour in
like manner to throw herself at the feet of the Lady Mary, and in her name
beseech her to forgive the many wrongs she had brought upon her.[168] But
there is evidence in a letter from Mary to Cromwell, dated 26th May 1536,
that Lady Kingston was then present with her, and it is unlikely that she
would have been sent to announce Anne’s death, unless she had some
special message to deliver. In this letter, as if in response to Anne’s petition
for pardon, Mary in mentioning her fallen enemy adds, “whom I pray our
Lord of His great mercy to forgive”.[169] Moreover, Chapuys told Cardinal
Granvelle, that on her way to the scaffold, “the Concubine declared that she
did not consider herself condemned by divine judgment, except for being
the cause of the ill-treatment of the Princess, and for having conspired her
death”.[170]
Although Henry took no pains to conceal the satisfaction he felt at his
deliverance from Anne, he chose to pretend that he was heart-broken at her
wickedness, and Cranmer, whose safety depended on a servile acquiescence
in his master’s every whim, begged him “somewhat to suppress the deep
sorrows of his Grace’s heart, and do violence to himself, by accepting with
patience and cheerfulness the decrees of Providence”.[171]
In truth, not Henry alone, but the whole nation breathed more freely, and
the horror inspired by the injustice of Anne’s trial cannot be said to have
extended to any feeling of regret for her untimely end. On the day of her
execution, Chapuys, keenly observant of all that went on at court, and of its
effect upon the nation, wrote:—
“The joy shown by this people every day, not only at the ruin of the
Concubine, but at the hope of the Princess Mary’s restoration, is
inconceivable, but as yet, the King shows no great disposition towards the
latter; indeed he has twice shown himself obstinate, when spoken to on the
subject by his Council. I hear, that even before the arrest of the Concubine,
the King, speaking with Mistress Jane Semel of their future marriage, the
latter suggested that the Princess should be replaced in her former position;
and the King told her she was a fool, and ought to solicit the advancement
of the children they would have between them, and not any others. She
replied, that by asking the restoration of the Princess, she conceived she
was seeking the rest and tranquillity of the King, herself, her future

children, and the whole realm; for without that, neither your Majesty nor
this people would ever be content. Such a wish,” continues the ambassador,
“on the part of the said lady, is very commendable, and I purpose using all
means in my power, in keeping her to her good intentions. I also mean to go
to the King about it two or three days hence, and visit one by one, the
members of the Privy Council, and if I can personally, or by means of my
friends, influence some of the lords and gentlemen, who have been
summoned for the next Parliament, which is to meet on the 8th of next
month, I shall not fail to do so.”[172]
Chapuys did not exaggerate the nation’s joyful expectation that Mary
would be restored to favour, and that the people would be allowed to enjoy
the sight of her once more. His testimony is corroborated in various ways,
one of the most striking proofs of her popularity being contained in a
French poem, written and printed in London in the beginning of June 1536.
This poem, which gives a singularly accurate description of Anne Boleyn’s
life, promotion and disgrace, is highly eulogistic of Mary’s goodness and
charms. In expressing the universal satisfaction displayed at the prospect of
her speedy return to court, the writer continues:—
Et n’eussiez veu jusque aux petits enfans
Que tous chantans, et d’aise triomphans.
Il n’y a cueur si triste qui ne rye
En attendant la princesse Marie.

It was impossible for Henry to ignore the immense popular enthusiasm of
which Mary was the object, and it hampered him considerably, for he was
not by any means prepared to acknowledge himself in the wrong, by
replacing her in his good graces unconditionally. The desire of the nation,
combined with Jane’s influence and his own much-vaunted affection, did
not equal his obstinacy and vanity. Only, as the above-mentioned poem
goes on to relate, when the enthusiasm developed into impatience, and a
rumour was circulated that he had sent for her, and had shown her kindness,
did he realise that it might be prudent to reckon with the Londoners.
Fearing a disturbance, if he did not show some sign of relenting, he sent
them a condescending message, in which he thanked them for their
goodwill to him and his daughter, and held out hopes of their speedy
reconciliation.[173]

But Henry was still hedged in with difficulties, and he had far more to
consider than a mere peace-making with an eager, affectionate daughter of
twenty, whom all, except those whose interest it was to keep them apart,
agreed in praising. To give Mary back her rights without terms, would be
tantamount to submission to the Pope, whose decree he had treated with
open scorn and defiance, to humbling himself before the Emperor, after the
haughty tone he had assumed in his letters to him, and to climbing down in
the eyes of his ally, the King of France. And while on the one hand, he
would be able to secure a powerful friend by bestowing her on a candidate
of the Emperor, he would on the other, cease to be an important factor in the
game of European politics. His strength, he knew, lay in temporising, in
being considered a valuable prize in petto to Francis and Charles alternately.
If he definitely gave himself up to Charles, he would but swell the
importance of the empire, at the sacrifice of his own pride. The Emperor,
when it became known that Anne’s fall was imminent, made decided
advances, promising “to be a mean to reconcile him with the Pope”. He
begged Henry to legitimatise his daughter, and to give her a place in the
succession, and took the opportunity to request his help against the Turk,
slipping in a solicitation for his support, in accordance with an existing
treaty, in the event of an invasion of the Duchy of Milan, by the French
King.
Henry’s reply, through Chapuys, was lofty and cleverly worded. The
interruption of their friendship, he declared to Pate, his ambassador at the
imperial court, proceeded from the Emperor, “who, although we made him
King of Spain and afterwards Emperor, when the empire was at our
disposal, and afterwards lent him money, so that he can thank only us for
his present honor, has showed us all the ingratitude he could devise, both in
contemning our friendship, when we have done more for his satisfaction in
our proceedings than needed, and in procuring injury and displeasure
against us at the hands of the Bishop of Rome; yet, if he will by his express
writings desire us to forget his unkind doings, or declare that what we
consider unkindness has been wrongly imputed to him, we will gladly
embrace the overture for the renewal of amity; but as we have sustained the
injury, we would not be a suitor for reconciliation, nor treat of anything till
our amity is simply and without any conditions renewed. If he will first
accomplish this, he need not doubt that friendly and reasonable answers

will be given to all his reasonable desires. To his overtures touching the
Bishop of Rome, we answered that we have not proceeded upon such slight
grounds that we could revoke or alter any part of our doing, having made
our foundation upon the laws of God, nature and honesty, and established
our works thereon, by the consent of all the estates of our realm, in open
and high court of Parliament. A proposal has been made to us by the Bishop
of Rome himself, which we have not yet embraced, and it would not be
expedient to have it compassed by any other means. We should not think
the Emperor earnestly desired a reconciliation with us, if he moved us to
alter anything for the satisfaction of the Bishop of Rome, our enemy. As to
the legitimatation of our daughter Mary, if she will submit to our grace,
without wrestling against the determination of our laws, we will
acknowledge her and use her as our daughter; but we would not be directed
or pressed herein, nor have any other order devised for her entertainment,
than should proceed from the inclination of our own heart, being moved by
her humility, and the gentle proceedings of such as pretend to be her
friends. God has not only made us King by inheritance, but has given us
wisdom, policy, and other graces in most plentiful sort, necessary for a
prince to direct his affairs by, to his honor and glory; and we doubt not, the
Emperor thinks it meet for us to order things here without search of foreign
advice, as for him or any other prince to determine their affairs without our
counsel. We trust that we have proceeded in all that we have enterprised
with such circumspection, that no one who looks with an indifferent eye
upon our foundation, which is God’s law, shall have cause to be
miscontented, but rather judge of us as a most Christian, prudent, victorious
and politic prince. If princes, by reason of foreign marriages should be
directed in the ordering of their issue by the parents or allies of their wives,
and, as it were, controlled, as if they had committed themselves by such
marriages to other princes’ ‘arbitres,’ who can by no means know the truth
of their proceedings, the servitude thereof would appear so great, that
wisdom would allow no prince to marry out of his realm. Notwithstanding
such marriages, princes have meddled but little in foreign affairs, unless the
title of inheritance has descended thereby to them. We doubt not, that the
Emperor will not intricate himself with our affairs more than he honourably
may, and agreeably to the amity which should be between Christian
princes.”[174]

To this the Emperor replied in a long letter, the conclusion of which ran:
—
“As to the Princess, our cousin, we also hold that the King will act like a
good and natural father, especially considering her great virtues and good
qualities; but our near relationship, and the great worth of the said Princess,
compel us to urge the King to have a fatherly regard for her. Nor does it
seem unreasonable that kinsmen should intercede with fathers for their
children; and we do so all the more, because we have always thought, that if
the King has in any degree withheld his favour from her, it has not been of
his own motion, but by sinister reports of others. So we think he will take
our intercession in good part, as we would do in the case of our own
children, of whom, if he consolidate this amity, we shall consider him
another father.”[175]
The Emperor’s compliments with reference to Henry’s “fatherly regard”
for Mary were not altogether insincere. Her position had been made less
humiliating in various ways. In March, it was observed that Cromwell, in
speaking of her, put his hand to his cap, and the secretary, Pate, emboldened
by the turn affairs had taken, expressed his ardent desire that the King
“would not suffer that redolent flower to be deprived of the sun’s warmth,
and to wither away”.[176]
The change was, no doubt, to be attributed to Jane Seymour’s influence,
as far as it went, but it was never very great, her power never being equal to
her will to help Mary, who was not slow to perceive that a crisis was
imminent; and buoyed up with hope, as soon as an opportunity occurred,
she wrote to Cromwell:—
“Master Secretary,
“I would have been a suter to you before this time, to have been a mean for me to
the King’s grace my father, to have obtained his Grace’s blessing and favour; but I
perceived that nobody durst speak for me, as long as that woman lived which now is gone,
whom I pray our Lord of his great mercy to forgive. Wherefore, now she is gone, I am the
bolder to write to you, as she which taketh you for one of my chief friends. And, therefore,
I desire you, for the love of God, to be a suitor for me to the King’s grace, to have his
blessing, and licence to write unto his grace, which shall be a great comfort for me, as God
knoweth, who have you evermore in his holy keeping. Moreover, I must desire you to
accept mine evil writing. For I have not done so much this two year and more, nor could
not have found the meanes to do it at this time, but by my Lady Kingston’s being here.

“At Hounsdon, the 26 of May (1536).
“By your loving friend

“Marye.”[177]

The series of letters which follow on this simple, natural effusion are of
so painful a character, that were it not necessary for the clear understanding
of the impending crisis in Mary’s life, to print them here entire, the
temptation would be great to pass them over with a general indication of
their contents. But the matter is one that may not be dealt with superficially,
and the text of the somewhat discursive correspondence which passed
between Mary, Cromwell and Henry is indispensable if we would estimate
the extent of the mental torture the Princess was called upon to undergo, at
the very time when she hoped that her worst trials were over. Her father’s
tyranny, far from having exhausted its resources, culminated in an act so
brutal, that it removes him for ever beyond the pale of humanity. It is a
question whether, in all Mary’s sad and troubled life, the saddest moment
was not now approaching. Gradually, the bright, eager tone of her letters
dies down, and, in place of the hopeful strain, is one of abject grovelling at
Henry’s feet. The later letters of the series are, indeed, written either from
Cromwell’s dictation, or are copied from his drafts, but the pen is Mary’s;
and the fact that she was now brought to renounce, at least formally, her
birthright, her pious faith in her mother’s honour and dignity, together with
all that she held most dear, places her in a position than which there could
hardly be a more painful. But nothing short of this total abandonment of
herself to his despotic will would satisfy the “most Christian, prudent,
victorious and politic prince,” her father.[178]
Cromwell’s answer to the above letter has not been preserved, but its
tenor may be inferred by another from the Princess Mary, dated the 30th
May:—
“Master Secretary,
“In as hearty manner as I can devise, I recommend me unto you, as she which
thinketh her self much bound unto you, for the great pain and labour that you have taken
for me, and specially for obtaining of the King my father’s blessing and licence to write
unto his Grace; which are two of the highest comforts that ever came to me: desiring you
of your gentle and friendly continuance in your suit for me, wherein (next unto God) I trust
you shall find me as obedient to the King’s grace as you can reasonably require of me.
Wherefore I have a great hope in your goodness, that by your wisdom, help and means, his

Grace shall not only withdraw his displeasure, but also that it may like his Grace (if it may
stand with his gracious pleasure) to licence me to come into his presence, for the which I
pray you in the honour of God to be a continual suitor for me, when your discretion shall
think the time most convenient. For it is the thing which I ever have and do desire above all
worldly things. And in all these things, good Mr. Secretary, for the love of him that all
comfort sendeth, I beseech you to be my most humble petitioner, and that in like case (I
take God to be my Judge) I would be for you, if the same did lie in my power. And thus I
must desire you to accept this short and evil written letter. For the rheum in my head will
suffer me to write no more at this time. Wherefore I pray you in all things to give credence
to this bearer; and with this end I commit you to Almighty God, whom I shall pray to be
with you in everything that you go about. From Hounsden, the 30 day of May (1536).
“By your bounden loving friend

Marye.”[179]

In accordance with the permission obtained, two days later Mary wrote to
her father:—
“In as humble and lowly a manner as is possible for a child to use to her father and
sovereign Lord, I beseech your Grace of your daily blessing, which is my chief desire in
this world. And in the same humble wise knowledging all the offences that I have done to
your Grace, since I had first discretion to offend unto this hour, I pray your Grace, in the
honour of God, and for your fatherly pity to forgive me them; for the which I am as sorry
as any creature living; and next unto God, I do and will submit me in all things to your
goodness and pleasure, to do with me whatsoever shall please your Grace, humbly
beseeching your Highness to consider that I am a woman and your child, who hath
committed her soul to God, and her body to be ordered in this world, as it shall stand with
your pleasure; whose order and direction, whatsoever it shall please your Highness to limit
and direct to me I shall most humbly and willingly stand content to follow, obey and
accomplish in all points. And so in the lowliest manner that I can, I beseech your Grace to
accept me, your humble daughter, which doth not a little rejoice to hear the comfortable
tidings, not only to me, but to all your Grace’s realm, concerning the marriage which is
between your Grace and the Queen, now being your Grace’s wife, my mother-in-law. The
hearing whereof caused nature to constrain me to be an humble suitor to your Grace, to be
so good and gracious Lord and father to me, as to give me leave to wait upon the Queen,
and to do her Grace such service as shall please her to command me, which my heart shall
be as ready and obedient to fulfill (next unto your Grace) as the most humble servant that
she hath. Trusting in your Grace’s mercy to come into your presence, which ever hath and
shall be the greatest comfort that I can have within this world; having also a full hope in
your Grace’s natural pity, which you have allwayes used as much or more than any Prince
christened, that your Grace will show the same upon me your most humble and obedient
daughter; who daily prayeth God to have your Grace in his holy keeping, with a long life,
and as much honour as ever had king, and to send your Grace shortly a Prince, whereof no
creature living shall more rejoice or heartlier pray for continually than I, as my duty
bindeth me.
“From Hounsdon, the first day of June (1536).
“By your Grace’s most humble daughter and handmaid,

“Marye.”[180]

Humble as were these petitions, they elicited no reply from Henry, and
Mary waited in vain for a word of kindness. Gradually it was borne in upon
her, that the favour which she so earnestly implored, and which seemed to
her so simple and easy a thing for the King to grant, would only be
bestowed at the price of a sacrifice too heavy for her conscience to bear.
Her contrition for past offences must not only be general, and such as any
child might express to any father, but circumstantial and precise, affecting
the vital principles for which she had struggled for four years. On the 6th
June, Chapuys told the Emperor, that in an interview with Cromwell, the
Secretary had declared it to be absolutely necessary that Mary should write
a letter, according to a draft which he (Cromwell) had prepared, “in the
most honourable and reasonable form that could be”. He had, he said, by
the King’s command, sent a very confidential lady to solicit the Princess to
do this, and that to avoid scruple, he wished that Chapuys would write to
her, and send one of his principal servants to persuade her to make no
difficulties about writing the said letter, which he intended to have
translated from English into Latin, that Chapuys might see that it was quite
honourable. There was, Chapuys thought, “some bird-catching attempted,”
and he warned Mary. But meanwhile Cromwell visited him at his lodging,
and told him that the King and Queen were wonderfully well pleased at the
letters which Mary had written, in which, however, the ambassador told
Charles that there was nothing corresponding to Cromwell’s draft, nor
anything that could prejudice her.
Mary’s next two letters, the one addressed to the chief Secretary, the
other to Henry, dated respectively the 7th and 8th June, were evidently
written in an agony of suspense, and of that hope deferred which “afflicteth
the soul”.
“Good Mr. Secretary,
“I think so long to hear some comfort from the King’s grace my father, whereby I
may perceive his Grace of his princely goodness and fatherly pity to have accepted my
letter, and withdrawn his displeasure towards me, that nature moveth me to be so bold to
send his Grace a token, which my servant this bearer hath to deliver to you, or to any other
at your appointment, desiring you (for the love of God) to find some meanes by your
wisdom and goodness, that the King may be so good and gracious Lord to me, as to send
me a token; which I assure you, shall be one of my greatest worldly comforts, till it shall
please his Grace to license me to come into his most desired presence; the sute whereof my

full trust is in you, that you will not forgett, when you shall see the time convenient. And
thus I commit you to God, whom I both do and shall dayly pray to reward you, for your
great paines and labours taken at all times for me.
“From Hownsdon the 7 day of June (1536).
“By your assured and loving friend during my life,

“Marye.”[181]

Her letter to the King ran thus:—
“In as humble and lowly manner as is possible for me, I beseech your Grace of your
daily blessing, by the obtaining whereof, with licence also to write unto your Grace, albeit
I understand to mine inestimable comfort, that your princely goodness and fatherly pity
hath forgiven all mine offences, and withdrawn your dreadful displeasure, long time
conceived against me, yet shall my joy never be full, nor my hope satisfied unto such time
as your Grace vouchsafe more sensibly to express your reconciled heart, love and favour
towards me, either by your gracious letters, or else some token, till I may by your merciful
calling and sufferance attain the fruition of your most desired presence; for the which, I
humbly desire your Grace to pardon me, though I trouble you with my continual sute and
rude writing; for nature will suffer me to do none otherwise: and that obtained, I shall have
my chief worldly joy and desire, as I take Almighty God to my record, whom I do and shall
daily pray (as I am bound by my duty) to preserve your Grace and the Queen with long life
and much honour, and shortly to send a Prince between you both. Which shall be gladder
tidings to me than I can express with writing.

“From Hownsdon the viii. day of June. By your Grace’s most humble and obedient
daughter and handmaid,

“Marye.”[182]

The above is the last of this series of letters which Mary wrote to her
father without help or suggestion from Cromwell. Abject as was the tone of
them all, Cromwell, anxious, for reasons of his own, to make peace
between Henry and his daughter, saw clearly that this would not be
effected, unless she could be brought categorically to declare herself
illegitimate. The King was determined on it, in order that failing legitimate
male issue, he might have some show of reason for putting his natural son,
the Duke of Richmond, forward as his successor. This project could be
furthered by nothing that she had hitherto written, and the chief Secretary
now began to give her advice as to the wording of her appeals. The result of
this advice was a letter written on the 10th June, the beginning and end of
which were little else than repetitions of her former expressions of sorrow
for past offences, desire for forgiveness and admission into the King’s
“most noble presence”. But in the middle occurs this sentence: “Eftsoones

therefore, most humbly prostrate before your noble feet, your most obedient
subject and humble child, that hath not only repented her offences hitherto,
but also decreed simply from henceforth and wholly next to Almighty God,
to put my state, continuance and living in your gracious mercy, and likewise
to accept the condition of your disposition and appointment, whatsoever it
shall be”.[183]
This letter she sent to Cromwell with the following:—
“Good Master Secretary,
“I do send you by this bearer, my servant, both the King’s highness’ letter sealed, and the
copy of the same again to you, whereby I trust you shall perceive that I have followed your
advice and counsell, and will do in all things concerning my duty to the King’s Grace (God
and my conscience not offended) for I take you for one of my chief friends, next unto his
Grace and the Queen. Wherefore, I desire you, for the passion which Christ suffered for
you and me, and as my very trust is in you, that you will find such meanes through your
great wisdome, that I be not moved to agree to any further entry in this matter than I have
done. For I assure you, by the faith that I owe to God, I have done the uttermost that my
conscience will suffer me; and I do neither desire nor intend to do less than I have done.
But if I be put to any more (I am plain with you as with my great friend) my said
conscience will in no wayes suffer me to consent thereunto. And this point except, you nor
any other shall be so much desirous to have me obey the King, as I shall be ready to fulfill
the same. For I promise you (as I desire God to help me at my most need) I had rather
loose the life of my body, than displease the King’s Grace willingly. Sir, I beseech you for
the love of God to take in good worth this rude letter. For I would not have troubled you so
much at this time, but that the end of your letter caused me a little to fear that I shall have
more business hereafter. And thus I commit you to God, whom I do and shall dayly pray to
be with you in everything that you go about. From Hownsdon the x. of June.
“Your assured bounden loving friend during my life,

“Marye.”[184]

Mary’s surmises were correct. “More business” was pending, and
meanwhile her letters only gave dissatisfaction. The contents of Cromwell’s
answer to the above can be gathered from the Princess’s letter of the 13th
June.
“Good Mr. Secretary,
“I do thank you with all my heart, for the great pain and suit you have had for me. For
the which I think myself very much bound to you. And whereas I do perceive by your
letters, that you do mislike mine exception in my letter to the King’s Grace, I assure you, I
did not mean as you do take it. For I do not mistrust that the King’s goodness will move me
to do anything which should offend God and my conscience. But that which I did write
was only by the reason of continual custome. For I have allwayes used, both in writing and
speaking, to except God in all things.

“Nevertheless, because you have exhorted me to write to his Grace again, and I cannot
devise what I should write more but your own last copy, without adding or minishing;
therefore I do send you by this bearer, my servant, the same, word for word; and it is
unsealed, because I cannot endure to write another copy. For the pain in my head and teeth
hath troubled me so sore these two or three dayes, and doth yet so continue, that I have
very small rest, day or night. Wherefore I trust in your goodness, that you will accept this,
and find such meanes by your wisdome, that the King’s Grace may do the same. Which
thing I desire you in the honour of God to procure, as my very trust is in you. For I know
none to make suit unto, nor to ask counsell of but only you, whom I commit to God,
desiring him to help you in all your business. From Hounsdon the 13 day of June (1536).
“Your assured bounden loving friend during my life,
“Marye.”

Cromwell’s draft, which the Princess copied “word for word” ran:—
“In my most humble and lowly manner, beseeching your Graces dayly blessing.
Forasmuch as sithens it pleased your most gracious mercy upon mine hearty repentance for
mine offences and trespasses to your Majestie, and mine humble and simple submission to
the same, of my life, state and condition, to be gladly received at your Highness hand and
appointment, whatsoever the same shall think convenient for me, without the remainder of
any will in myself, but such as shall be instilled from the most noble mouth of your
excellent Majestie, to grant me licence to write unto you: albeit I have written twice unto
your highness, trusting to have, by some gracious letters, token or message, perceived
sensibly the mercy, clemency and pity of your Grace, and upon the operation of the same,
at the last also to have attained the fruition of your most noble presence, which above all
worldly things I desire: yet I have not obtained my said fervent and hearty desire, ne any
peice of the same to my great and intolerable discomfort I am enforced, by the compulsion
of nature, eftsones to cry unto your mercifull eares, and most humbly prostrate before your
feet, to beseech your Grace to have pity and compassion of me, and in such wise to put
apart your displeasure, justly conceived against me, as I may feel some piece of your most
abundant grace, that hath never wanted to them that have inwardly repented their offences,
not committed by malice, but by yonghe frailty and ignorance. For yet I remain almost
void of all hope, saving the confidence I have in your blessed nature recomforteth me. And
therefore eftsones, prostrate at your noble feet I beseech your Majestie to countervail my
transgressions with my repentance for the same, and thereupon to grant some little spark of
my most humble suit and desire, which (God is my judge) I desire for no worldly respect,
trusting in Almighty God, to use myself so from henceforth as your Grace shall have cause
to think your mercy and pity well extended unto me. To whom I shall daily pray (as I am
most bounden) to preserve your Highness, with the Queen, and shortly to send you issue,
which shall be gladder tidings to me than I can express in writing.
“From Hunsdon the xiii day of June.
“Your most humble and obedient daughter and handmaid,

“Marye.“[185]

It was clearly anticipated that Mary’s progress, by almost imperceptible
degrees, from vague expressions of repentance to a definite surrender of her

will for the future, would have prepared the victim for the final coup.
Immediately after receiving the above transcript of Cromwell’s draft, Henry
sent commissioners to Hunsdon, summoning her to accept the new statute,
and to affix her signature to a statement, declaring her own illegitimacy,
which had been drawn up with the most ruthless and humiliating detail.
To Henry’s fury and Cromwell’s consternation Mary refused to sign. The
Chief Secretary had pledged himself to reduce her to submission, and he
knew by experience, that with his master, failure spelt treason, and he
trembled accordingly. His answer to Mary’s appeals was brutal in the
extreme, yet knowing as we do by the light of after events, that he was not
only arrested, but condemned and executed for far less than complicity in
Mary’s disobedience, we can scarcely wonder at his tone towards her.
None, with the single exception perhaps of Cranmer, knew Henry so well as
his chief minister, and to know him was with all time-servers to fear
exceedingly.
“Madam [he wrote],
“I have received your letters, whereby it appeareth you be in great discomfort, and do
desire that I should find the means to speak with you. For answer whereunto, ye shall
understand, that how great so ever your discomfort is, it can be no greater than mine, who
hath upon your letters spoken so much of your repentance for your wilfull obstinacy
against the King’s Highness, and of your humble submission in all things, without
exception and qualification, to obey to his pleasure and laws, that knowing how diversely
and contrarily you proceeded at the late being of his Majesty’s counsell with you, I am both
ashamed of that I have said, and likewise afraid of that I have done; in so much that what
the sequel thereof shall be God knoweth. Thus with your folly you undoe yourself, and all
that hath wished your good; and yet I will say unto you, as I have said else where
heretofore; that it were great pity ye should not be an example in a punishment, if ye will
make yourself an example in the contempt of God, your natural father and his lawes, by
your own only fantasie, contrary to the judgements and determinations of all men, that ye
must confess do know and love God as well as you, except you will show yourself
presumption. [Hearne says: “Evidently a mistake for presumptuous as in the margin of Dr.
Smith’s copy”.] Wherefore, Madam, to be plain with you, as God is my witnes, like as I
think you the most obstinate and obdurate woman all things considered, that ever was, and
one that so persevering, well deserveth the reward of malice in extremity of mischief: so I
dare not open my lips to name you, unless I may have such a ground thereunto, that it may
appear you were mistaken, or at least that you be both repentant for your ingratitude and
miserable unkindness, and ready to do all things that ye be bound unto by your duty of
allegiance, if nature were secluded from you, and in a like degree planted in the same, as it
is in every other common subject. And therefore, I have sent unto you a certain book of
articles whereunto if you will sett your name, you shall undoubtedly please God, being the
same conformable to his truth, so as you will in semblable manner conceive it in your heart
without dissimulation. Upon the receipt whereof again from you, with a letter declaring
that you think in heart that you have subscribed with hand, I shall eftsones adventure to

speak for your reconciliation. And if you will not with speed leave all your sinister
counsells, which have brought you to the point of utter undoing, without remedy, and
herein follow mine advice, I take my leave of you for ever, and desire you never to write or
make mean unto me hereafter. For I will never think you other than the most ungrateful,
unnatural and most obstinate person living, both to God and your most dear and benign
father. And I advise you to nothing, but I beseech God never to help me, if I know it not so
certainly to be your bounden duty, by God’s laws and man’s laws, that I must needs judge
that person that shall refuse it, not meet to live in a Christian congregation; to the witness
whereof I take Christ, whose mercy I refuse, if I write anything unto you that I have not
professed in my heart and know to be true.”[186]

We are indebted to Chapuys’ letter to the Emperor, dated 1st July 1536,
for a detailed account of the matter that had excited Cromwell’s ire.
“When the Princess, having written several good letters to the King her
father and to this Queen, expected to be out of her trouble, trusting to the
hope held out to her, she found herself in the most extreme perplexity and
danger she had ever been in, and not only herself, but all her principal
friends. The King, seven or eight days after the departure of the man whom
I sent to your Majesty, took a fancy to insist that the Princess should
consent to his statutes, or he would proceed by rigour of law against her,
and to induce her to yield, sent to her the duke of Norfolk, the earl of
Sussex, the bishop of Chester and certain others, whom she confounded by
her wise and prudent answers, till they, seeing that they could not conquer
her in argument, told her that since she was so unnatural as to oppose the
King’s will so obstinately, they could scarcely believe she was his bastard,
and if she was their daughter, they would beat her and knock her head so
violently against the wall, that they would make it as soft as baked apples,
and that she was a traitress and should be punished, and several other
words. And her gouvernante was commanded not to allow any one to speak
to her, and that she and another should never lose sight of her, day or night.
Nevertheless, the said Princess found means to send me immediate
information of everything, begging me not to leave her without counsel in
her extreme necessity.
“On this I wrote to her very fully, telling her among other things, that she
must make up her mind, if the King persisted in his obstinacy, or she found
evidence that her life was in danger, either by maltreatment or otherwise, to
consent to her father’s wish, assuring her that such was your advice, and
that to save her life, on which depended the peace of the realm, and the

redress of the great evils which prevail here, she must do everything, and
dissemble for some time, especially, as the protestations made, and the cruel
violence shown her, preserved her rights inviolate, and likewise her
conscience, seeing that nothing was required expressly against God, or the
articles of the Faith, and God regarded more the intention than the act; and
that now she had more occasion to do thus than during the life of the
Concubine, as it was proposed to deprive the Bastard, and make her heiress;
and I felt assured that if she came to Court, she would by her wisdom set
her father again in the right road, to which the intercession of your Majesty
through the reconciliation and establishment of amity would conduce.”[187]
The King suspected that Mary was advised to hold out by certain of her
attendants, and made strict inquiries. Several of her ladies were called
before the Council, and made to swear to the statutes. The wife of her
Chamberlain, whom Chapuys designates as “one of the most virtuous ladies
in England,” was sent to the Tower, while Mary’s chief confidential servant
was detained for two days in Cromwell’s house. The Council sat for six or
seven days from morning till night without intermission, deliberating on
Mary’s fate. Cromwell, suspected of having shown himself too favourable
to the Princess, was not free from danger. He told Chapuys that for four or
five days he looked upon himself as a lost man and dead. The Marquis of
Exeter and the Lord Treasurer, Fitzwilliam, were dismissed from the
Council as Mary’s friends, and the new Queen, Jane Seymour, was rudely
repulsed for speaking in her favour. Continuing the above letter, Chapuys
said:—
“The judges, in spite of threats, refused to decide, and advised that a
writing should be sent to the Princess, and that if she refused to sign it they
should proceed against her. The Princess being informed from various
quarters how matters stood, signed the document without reading it. For her
better excuse, I had previously sent her the form of the protestation she
must make apart. I had also warned her that she must in the first place
secure the King’s pardon, and, if possible, not give her approval to the said
statutes, except so far as she could do so agreeably to God and her
conscience, or that she should promise only not to infringe the said statute,
without expressing approval. I have not yet ascertained how the thing has
passed, but, in any case, she never made a better day’s work, for if she had
let this opportunity slip, there was no remedy in the world for her. As soon

as the news arrived of her subscription, incredible joy was shown in all the
Court, except by the earl of Essex, who told the King that was a game that
would cost him his head, for the injurious language he had used against the
Princess. After the Princess had signed the document she was much
dejected, but I immediately relieved her of every doubt even of conscience,
assuring her that the Pope would not only not impute to her any blame, but
would hold it rightly done. Since the Princess subscribed the said document,
the King sent back the above commissioners with others, among whom was
Master Cromwell, who was charged by the King to carry to her a most
gracious letter, and also, according to the custom of the country, another
with the paternal blessing, and they all offered her the highest possible
honour, addressing her almost continually kneeling upon the ground,
especially asking her pardon for their previous conduct. The Princess
remains very happy, especially on account of the goodwill Cromwell bears
her in the promotion of her affairs. She is only anxious as to how your
Majesty will be satisfied with what she has done. And now that she has
done it, on my assurance that it was the will of your Majesty, yet it would
be a marvellous consolation to her to know it by letters from you. She has
also desired me to write to your Majesty’s ambassador at Rome, to procure
a secret absolution from the Pope, otherwise her conscience could not be at
perfect ease.”[188]
The document to which Henry finally summoned his daughter to affix
her signature was drawn up in the following terms:—
“The confession of me the Lady Mary, made upon certain points and
articles under written, in the which as I do now plainly and with all mine
heart confess and declare mine inward sentence, belief and judgment, with a
due conformity of obedience to the laws of the realm; so minding for ever
to persist and continue in this determination, without change, alteration or
varyance, I do most humbly beseech the King’s Highness, my father, whom
I have obstinately and inobediently offended in the denyal of the same
heretofore, to forgive mine offences therein, and to take me to his most
gracious mercy. First, I confess and knowledge the King’s Majesty to be my
Soveraign Lord and King, in the imperial Crown of this realme of England,
and do submit myself to his Highness, and to all and singular lawes and
statutes of this realm, as becometh a true and faithfull subject to do; which I
shall also obey, keep, observe, advance and maintain, according to my

bounden duty, with all the power, force and qualities that God hath induced
me, during my life.
”Item.—I do recognize, accept, take, repute and knowledge the King’s Highness to be
supream head in earth under Christ of the Church of England, and do utterly refuse the
Bishop of Rome’s pretended authority, power and jurisdiction within this Realm heretofore
usurped, according to the laws and statutes made in that behalf, and of all the King’s true
subjects, humbly received, admitted, obeyed, kept and observed. And also do utterly
renounce and forsake all manner of remedy, interest and advantage which I may by any
means claim by the Bishop of Rome’s laws, process, jurisdiction or sentence, at this
present time or in any wise hereafter, by any manner, title, colour, mean or case that is,
shall, or can be devised for that purpose.
“Marye.
”Item.—I do freely, frankly and for the discharge of my duty towards God, the King’s
Highness and his laws, without other respect, recognize and acknowledge that the marriage
heretofore had between his Majesty and my mother, the late Princess dowager, was by
God’s law and man’s law incestuous and unlawfull.

“Marye.”[189]

Thus was the great renunciation made. It was probably the worst thing
that Mary did in her whole life, for there is nothing in her history on record
to compare with this violation of her conscience, and of all that she held
most sacred. To excuse her on the score that she never gave interior consent
to the sacrifice of her mother’s honour and her own faith would be but a
miserable apology. She yielded indeed less to Cromwell’s threats, than to
the Emperor’s specious arguments, and to the wretchedness of her own
forlorn condition; but her intellect and mental and moral training were such
that she was able to appreciate to the full the extent of her fall, and it would
be doing her a poor service to attempt to palliate her guilt.
Cromwell prepared yet another letter for the hapless victim to copy, for
having drunk the bitter cup to the dregs, she was now required to thank her
father humbly for the boon. The passionless utilitarian mind of the Chief
Secretary was not bent on causing Mary more pain than was necessary to
bring about and perfect the reconciliation which he had set himself to
accomplish. He was not wantonly cruel; but he understood Henry, and knew
that neither his own head nor Mary’s was safe, until the royal vanity was
fed to repletion. He therefore caused her to write the following letter to her
father on the 15th June, after having signed the articles:—

“Most humbly prostrate before the feet of your most excellent Majestie, your most
humble, faithfull and obedient subject, which hath so extremely offended your most
gracious Highness that mine heavy and fearfull heart dare not presume to call you father,
ne your Majesty hath any cause by my deserts, saving the benignity of your most blessed
nature doth surmount all evils, offences and trespasses, and is ever mercifull and ready to
accept the penitent calling for grace in any convenient time. Having received this thursday
at night certain letters from Mr. Secretary, as well advising me to make mine humble
submission immediately to your self, which because I durst not without your gracious
licence presume to do before I lately sent unto him, as signifying that your most mercifull
heart and fatherly pity had granted me your blessing, with condition that I should persevere
in that I had commenced and begun, and that I should not eftsones offend your Majesty by
the denyal or refusal of any such articles and commandments as it may please your
Highness to address unto me for the perfect tryal of mine heart and inward affection. For
the perfect declaration of the bottom of my heart and stomack, first I knowledge my self to
have most unkindly and unnaturally offended your most excellent Highness, in that I have
not submitted myself to your most just and vertuous laws, and for mine offence therein,
which I must confess were in me a thousand fold more grievous, than they could be in any
other living creature. I put my self wholly and entirely to your gracious mercy, at whose
hand I cannot receive that punishment for the same that I have deserved. Secondly, to open
mine heart to your Grace in these things which I have hitherto refused to condescend unto,
and have now written with mine own hand sending the same to your Highness herewith. I
shall never beseech your Grace to have pity and compassion of me, if ever you shall
perceive that I shall prevyly or apertly vary or alter from one peice of that I have written
and subscribed, or refuse to confirm, ratifie or declare the same where your Majesty shall
appoint me. Thirdly, as I have and shall, knowing your excellent learning, virtue, wisdom
and knowledge, put my soul into your direction, and by the same hath and will in all things
from henceforth direct my conscience, so my body I do wholly commit to your mercy and
fatherly pity; desiring no state, no condition nor no manner degree of living, but such as
your Grace shall appoint unto me; knowledging and confessing that my state cannot be so
vile as either the extremity of justice would appoint unto me, or as my offences have
required and deserved; and whatsoever your Grace shall command me to do, touching any
of these points, either for things past, present or to come, I shall as gladly do the same as
your Majesty can command me. Most humbly therefore, beseeching your mercy, most
gracious soveraign Lord and benign father, to have pity and compassion of your miserable
and sorrowfull child, and with the abundance of your inestimable goodness to overcome
mine iniquities towards God, your Grace, and your whole realm, as I may feel some
sensible token of reconciliation, which, God is my Judge, I only desire without any respect.
To whom I shall dayly pray for the preservation of your Highness, with the Queen’s grace,
and that it may please him to send you issue. From Hownsdon at 11 of the clock at night.
Your grace’s most humble and obedient daughter and handmaid,

“Marye.”[190]

Henry was now pleased to accept Mary’s holocaust, and intimated to her
his forgiveness. Cromwell’s hand is again evident in her reply. Even now, if
left to her own expressions of affection, she might fail to attain to the proper
degree of servility. On the 26th June she wrote:—

“Most humbly, obediently and gladly, lying at the feet of your most excellent Majesty,
my most dear and benigne soveraigne Lord. I have this day perceived your gracious
clemency and mercifull pity to have overcome my most unkind and unnatural proceedings
towards you and your most just and vertuous lawes; the great and inestimable joy, whereof
I cannot express ne have any thing worthy to be again presented to your Majesty for the
same your fatherly pity extended towards me, most ingrately on my part abandoned, as
much as in me lay; but my poor heart, which I send unto your Highness, to remain in your
hand, to be for ever used, directed and framed, whiles God shall suffer life to remain in it,
at your only pleasure; most humbly beseeching your Grace to accept and receive the same,
being all that I have to offer, which shall never alter, vary or change from that confession
and submission which I have made unto your Highness in the presence of your council and
others attending upon the same; for whose preservation with my most gracious mother the
Queen, I shall daily pray to God, whom eftsones I beseech to send you issue, to his honour
and the comfort of your whole realm.
“From Hounsdon the 26 day of June.
“Your Grace’s most humble and obedient daughter and handmaid,

“Marye.”[191]

FOOTNOTES:
[150] Gairdner, Cal., x., 141.
[151] Gairdner, Cal., x., 141.
[152] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 33, Charles V. to the Empress, Naples, 1st
Feb. 1536.
[153] Gairdner, Cal., x., 901. “The said Semel” (Seymour), he continues, “is not a
woman of great wit, but she may have good understanding.... She bears great love
and reverence to the Princess. I know not if honours will make her change
hereafter.”
[154] Gairdner, Cal., x., 307. The original letter, in French, is in the Vienna
Archives.
[155] Gairdner, Cal., x., 351.

[156] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 39.
[157] Gairdner, Cal., x., 307.
[158] Ibid.
[159] Ibid.
[160] Anne Boleyn, vol. ii., p. 227.
[161] Gairdner, Cal., x., 601.
[162] Gairdner, Cal., x., 601. The ambassador refers here not to Henry’s former
connection with Anne’s sister Mary, but to the intimacy which by common report
had once existed between the King and the mother of both.
[163] By Mr. Friedmann in his Anne Boleyn.
[164] Perhaps the most damning proof against her is the fact that her daughter
Elizabeth never made the least attempt to rehabilitate her memory.
[165] Gairdner, Cal., x., 908.
[166] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 127.
[167] Cotton MS. Otho. C. x., Brit. Mus. Burnet, vol. iv., p. 291.
[168] Anne Boleyn, vol. ii., p. 293.
[169] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 283; printed in Hearne’s Sylloge, p. 140.
[170] Chapuys to Granvelle, 6th June 1536, Vienna Archives. Gayangos, Cal.,
vol. v., pt. ii., p. 574.
[171] Cotton MS. Otho. C. x. f. 230. Burnet, i., 320.
[172] Chapuys to Charles V., Despatch of the 19th May 1536, Vienna Archives.
Gairdner, Cal., x., 908.
[173] Crapelet, Lettres de Henri VIII. p. 167.
[174] Gairdner, Cal., x., 726. Harl. MS. 282, f. 7, Brit. Mus.
[175] Gairdner, Cal., x., 887. Vienna Archives, dated 15th May 1536.
[176] Cotton MS. Vit. B. xiv., 177. This, and all the letters written by Mary to her
father and Cromwell at this time, are to be seen at the British Museum; they are all
written in her own firm, clear hand, but many of them are much damaged by the
fire at Cotton House.
[177] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 283; printed in Hearne’s Sylloge, p. 140.
[178] Vide his letter to Charles V., p. 111.
[179] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 284. Hearne’s Sylloge, p. 146.
[180] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 265. Hearne, p. 147.
[181] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 286. Hearne, p. 148.

[182] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 287. Hearne, p. 149.
[183] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 271. Hearne, p. 124.
[184] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 270. Hearne, p. 126.
[185] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 272. Hearne, p. 127.
[186] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 280. Hearne, p. 137.
[187] Gairdner, Cal., xi., 7.
[188] Gairdner, Cal., xi., 7.

[189] Harl. MS. 283, f. 114b, 112. Hearne, p. 142.

[190] Harl. MS. 283, f. 111b. Hearne, p. 140.
[191] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 273, Brit. Mus. Hearne, p. 128.

CHAPTER VI.
AFTER THE STORM.
1536-1537.
Amid all the fencing and diplomatic insincerities that went on between
Henry and Charles, concerning Mary’s status, his cousin’s real welfare had
but a small share in the policy of the Emperor. Persecuted by her father,
Mary had taken counsel with the powerful kinsman who, she thought, had
her interests, and the cause for which she was suffering, at heart. But
Charles was a much better politician than kinsman, and had no cause so
much at heart as his own advantage, and that of the empire. He was anxious
to be at peace with Henry for more reasons than one, and cared little what
temporary concessions his cousin made, so long as they furthered this
object. He had not seen his way to make war, when she and her mother had
looked to him as their avenger, and now that the principal cause of
estrangement between himself and Henry had been removed by death, he
was eager to sacrifice Mary on the altar of peace. Her eyes were never
opened to the treacherous part he had played, but Henry was not ignorant of
the fact that she was entirely influenced by the Emperor. If she had yielded,
he knew that she had done so with Charles’s approval, a circumstance that
made largely for political amity. The days of chivalry were done, and
Mary’s trust and confidence were ruthlessly employed to pave a way out of
the imperial difficulties.
Great stress was laid by Charles on the axiom, that concessions extracted
by force or fraud had no binding power, so long as formal protests against
the compulsion exercised were secretly made and signed. This principle
was frequently applied between the three chief rulers of Europe at this
period, and sometimes led to curious results.
Meanwhile, Mary was not yet in calm waters. Cromwell, for the sake of
his own safety, required her to express in a letter addressed to him, but
intended for Henry’s eye, all that she owed him as a mediator. He had not
forgotten what he had undergone, during the six days’ uninterrupted sitting

of the Council, when he had considered himself “a dead man,” and when, in
fact, his own and Mary’s fate had trembled in the balance. Even yet, his
capricious master might again suspect him of having encouraged Mary in
her resistance, and he was anxious that there should be no mistake in
Henry’s mind, as to his share in her submission. Besides this, the King’s
tyranny required a declaration from Mary, that she not only abandoned her
title but agreed in its being given to Anne’s daughter Elizabeth (although
she, too, had been declared illegitimate and was not allowed to use it any
longer), and that as to her own future position she made no claim, but was
content to accept whatever was conceded. Another point left vague had
been her attitude respecting Henry’s disposal of doctrines, which concerned
purgatory, pilgrimages, relics, etc., and her father must be satisfied in this
matter also. Having swallowed the whole, Mary made no further resistance
as to the parts, and wrote to Cromwell as he desired, probably copying his
entire draft.
“Good Master Secretary,
“How much am I bound unto you, which hath not only travailed, when I was almost
drowned in folly to recover me before I sunk and was utterly past recovery, and so to
present me to the fire of grace and mercy, but also desisteth not sithence with your good
and wholsome counsels, so to arme me from any relapse, that I cannot, unless I were too
wilfull and obstinate, whereof there is now no spark in me, fall again into any danger! But
leaveing the recital of your goodness apart, which I cannot recount, for answer to the
particulerities of your credence, sent by my friend Master Wrythesley; first concerning the
Princess (so I think I must call her yet for I would be loath to offend) I offered at her entry
to that name and honour, to call her sister; but it was refused, unless I would also add the
other title unto it, which I denyed not then more obstinately than I am now sorry for it; for
that I did therein offend my most gracious father and his just lawes, and now that you think
it meet, I shall never call her by any other name than sister. Touching the nomination of
such women as I would have about me, surely Mr. Secretary, what men or women soever
the King’s Highness shall appoint to wait on me, without exception, shall be unto me right
heartily, and without respect welcome; albeit to express my mind to you, whom I think
worthy to be accepted for their faithfull service done to the King’s Majestie and to me,
sythens they came into my company, I promise you on my faith, Margery Baynton and
Susan Clarcencyeus have in every condition used themselves as faithfully, painfully and
diligently as ever did women in such a case; as sorry when I was not so conformable, as
became me, as glad when I enclined anything to my duty, as could be devised. One other
there is, that was sometime my maid, whom for her vertue I love, and could be glad to have
in my company, that is Mary Brown; and here be all that I will recommend; and yet, my
estimation of these shall be measured at the King’s Highness, my most mercifull father’s
pleasure and appointment, as reason is. For mine opinion touching pilgrimages, purgatory,
relicks and such like, I assure you, I have none at all, but such as I shall receive from him,
that hath mine whole heart in keeping, that is the King’s most gracious Highness, my most
benign father, who shall imprint in the same touching these matters and all other, what his

inestimable vertue, high wisdome and excellent learning shall think convenient, and limit
unto me; to whose presence I pray God I may once come or I dye. For every day is a year,
till I may have the fruition of it. Beseeching you, good Mr. Secretary, to continue mine
humble sute for the same, and for all other things whatsoever they be, to repute mine heart
so firmly knit to his pleasure, that I can by no mean vary from the direction and
appointment of the same. And thus most heartily fare you well.
“From Hounsdon this friday at 10 of the clock at night.
“Your assured loving friend during my life,

“Marye.”[192]

Henry was at last pleased to forgive her, and by common consent,
Cromwell had all the credit of the peacemaking. Chapuys told Cardinal
Perrenot de Granvelle, President of the Emperor’s Council, that the
Secretary was also doing his best to promote friendship between their
masters, and that, having carried it into effect, he would die proud of that
feat, and of having reconciled the Princess to her father, “not wishing to live
one day longer”. On the 6th July, Chapuys applied for an audience with the
King for the next day, but was told that he could not then have one, as both
the King and Queen were to visit the Princess secretly. Cromwell added that
it would be far better for the advancement of business, if Chapuys spoke to
him after his return, “knowing well that after seeing the beauty, goodness,
prudence and virtue of the same Princess, the King would be more inclined
to the matter in question”. The letter in which this news is communicated
then breaks off, and later on Chapuys continues:—
“The day before yesterday (6th inst.) the King and Queen left this, with a
small and secret company to visit the Princess, three miles from here, where
they remained till yesterday about vespers. The kindness shown by the King
to the Princess was inconceivable, regretting that he had been so long
separated from her. He made good amends for it in the little time he was
with her, continually talking with her, with every sign of affection, and with
ever so many fine promises. The Queen gave her a beautiful diamond, and
the King about 1000 crowns in money for her little pleasures, telling her to
have no anxiety about money, for she should have as much as she could
wish. He promised her that when he returned from Dover, she should come
to court. She will no doubt by her great prudence remedy many things.”[193]
On the same day, however, he had cause to modify this account
somewhat, in a subsequent letter to Granvelle, in which he says:—

“What I have told his Majesty about this King’s singularly kind
behaviour to his daughter the Princess, when he saw her the other day, I
have on the authority of one of her own servants, the very same one who,
for some time past, has been the bearer of her messages to me. Yesterday, as
he was imparting the said news, and conveying his mistress’s
commendations to me, I naturally concluded that he himself was speaking
in the Princess’s name, but I am afraid such is not the case, and that the man
only repeated what he had heard, for I have since been told, that mixed with
the sweet food of paternal kindness, there were a few drachmas of gall and
bitterness. But after all, we must set that down to paternal authority, and
pray God to inspire the King to behave still better to the Princess, and work
with more zest and sincerity than he has hitherto done, towards the
establishment and extension of the confederacy with your Majesty, which,
as may be gathered from my previous despatches, has hitherto been
surrounded by much artifice and subterfuge.”[194]
Henry was much perplexed as to the exact position Mary was to occupy
thenceforth. Cromwell told Chapuys that “the great and almost excessive
love and affection that the English have always shown for the Princess” had
so increased of late, that they were determined to risk everything for her
sake. This attitude of the people roused her father’s jealousy and suspicion,
and Cromwell was observed no longer to give her her title, a habit which he
had already resumed. He not only avoided speaking of Mary as Princess,
but requested Chapuys to do the same, which made him think that instead
of declaring her to be Princess of Wales, she would be called Duchess of
York. “Considering,” continued Cromwell, “the King’s versatility and, on
the other hand, the rumours current among the people, I hesitate to say what
the Princess’s future is likely to be; but this I can assure you (Chapuys), that
the whole business will be conducted to her honor and profit”—“giving
me,” said the ambassador, “to understand thereby that she will be appointed
heiress to the Crown, should the King have no male issue.”
On the 22nd July, the Duke of Richmond died of consumption, and
Mary’s prospects immediately brightened. Chapuys informed the Emperor
of the fact, assuring him that the Princess had plenty of company, “even of
the following of the little Bastard who will henceforth pay her court”. Her
household had not yet been appointed, but nothing was wanting except her
name and title of princess. “Nor need we make too much of the name,” said

Chapuys, “seeing that it has not been usual to give such a title to a daughter,
while there is any hope of male issue, and the Cardinal, for some particular
reasons, had broken that custom in her case. Nevertheless, Cromwell says,
that title will be restored to her before many days, and there is no doubt, if
she comes to court, she will have that, and everything she can desire, for her
incomparable beauty, grace and prudence. And I think that your Majesty’s
affairs will proceed all the better for it; at all events, it will not be for want
of goodwill that your affairs do not go on more prosperously than her own.
I sent lately to warn the Princess, that there was some talk of marrying her
in this kingdom to some very unsuitable person [perhaps he means to
Cromwell, who had been suggested as a possible husband for her], and she
sent to assure me, that she would never make any match without the express
consent of your Majesty; protesting that except for some great advantage to
the peace of Christendom, she would not care to be married at all.”[195]

THE PRINCESS MARY.
From the original drawing by Holbein, in the possession of the Marquis of Exeter.

Chapuys could never admire and praise Mary enough. Even in
communicating officially the news of the Duke of Richmond’s death,
eulogy of the Princess formed the chief part of his despatch. “Few are
sorry,” he wrote to Perrenot de Granvelle, “because of the Princess. Even
Cromwell has congratulated her in his letters, and thank God, she now
triumphs, and it is to be hoped that the dangers are laid, with which she has
been surrounded, to make her a paragon of virtue, goodness, honor and
prudence: I say nothing of beauty and grace, for it is incredible. May God

raise her soon to the Crown, for the benefit of his Majesty and of all
Christendom.”[196]
Those who wished for a return to the old order in England looked to
Mary’s influence to bring it about. She was in some miraculous way, by her
very presence at court, to exercise power over her father’s indomitable will
(the will that had crushed her into submission), to reconcile him with the
Pope, and undo all the mischief he had been doing for the last ten years.
“It is to be hoped,” wrote Chapuys to the Empress Isabella, “that through
the Princess’s means, and through her great wisdom and discretion she may
hereafter little by little bring back the King, her father, and the whole of the
English nation to the right path. It would indeed have been a great pity to
lose such a gem, her virtues being of such a standard, that I know not how
to express and define her great accomplishments, her wisdom, beauty,
prudence, virtue, austere life, and her other great qualities, for certainly all
those who have been and are acquainted with her, cannot cease from
praising her any more than I can.”[197]
He was indefatigable in promoting Mary’s interests in every possible
way. On being presented to Queen Jane, he seems to have thought of
nothing else, regarding her merely as a useful friend, who had it in her
power to smooth the Princess’s paths. His account of the interview is
interesting:—
“Mass over, I accompanied the King to the apartments of the Queen,
whom, with the King’s pleasure, I kissed, congratulating her on her
marriage, and wishing her prosperity. I told her besides, that although the
device of the lady who had preceded her on the throne was ‘The happiest of
women,’ I had no doubt she herself would fully realise that motto....
“Among the many felicities which I enumerated, I said to the Queen, that
certainly the chief one was the Princess, in whom, without having had the
pain and trouble of bringing her into the world, she had such a daughter,
that she would receive more pleasure and consolation from her, than from
any other she might have. I ended by begging her to take care of the
Princess’s affairs; which she kindly promised to do, saying that she would
work in earnest to deserve the honourable name which I had given her of
pacificator, that is preserver and guardian of the peace. After this address of

mine, the King, who had been talking with the ladies of the Court,
approached us, and began making excuses for the Queen, saying that I was
the first ambassador to whom she had spoken; she was not used to that sort
of reception, but he imagined that she would do her utmost to obtain the
title of pacificator which I had greeted her with, as being herself of kind and
amiable disposition, and much inclined to peace, she would make the
greatest efforts to prevent his taking part in a foreign war, were it for no
other thing than the fear of having to separate herself from him.”[198]
A charming trait in Mary’s character was the protection which the now
happier sister pityingly extended to Anne Boleyn’s unfortunate daughter.
For the next three years, they continued to live chiefly at Hunsdon, under
the same roof, but while Mary was treated with a certain amount of
consideration, Elizabeth was wholly neglected, disgraced, and unprovided
with the commonest necessaries of life, at one time having “neither gown
nor kirtle, nor petticoat, nor linen for smocks, nor kerchiefs, rails, body-
stychets, handkerchiefs, mufflers nor begens”.[199] But Mary’s relations
with her father, although cordial on the whole, were lacking in every
element of stability. All depended on his caprice, as the Princess well knew,
and had she been worldly minded, she might have hesitated to take up the
cause of one, to whom he was now far less favourably inclined than to
herself. But Mary was not worldly, and she took care to say a good word for
the child when she could. Thus at the end of a letter to her father she wrote:
“My sister Elizabeth is in good health, thanks be to our Lord, and such a child toward, as
I doubt not but your highness shall have cause to rejoyce of, in time coming, as knoweth
Almighty God, who send your Grace, with the Queen my good Mother, health with the
accomplishment of your desires.
“From Hownsdon, the 21 day of July (1536).
“Your Hignes most humble daughter handmaid, and faithfull subject,

“Marye.”[200]

The Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary abound in entries for
presents “to the Lady Elizabeth’s grace,” and in the notification of sums
expended on her amusements.
The art with which Mary received gifts was no less happy than her
manner of giving, and the letter of thanks which she wrote to Cromwell,

just after he had been made Lord Privy Seal, in acknowledgment of his
services to her, is a pleasant contrast, in its spontaneous expressions of
gratitude, to the former grovelling effusions, which purported to have
emanated from her, but which were really the compositions of Cromwell
himself.
“My Lord,
“In my heartiest manner I commend me unto you, as she which cannot express in
writing the great joy and comfort that I have received as well by your letters as by the
report of my servant this bearer, concerning the King my Sovereign father’s goodness
towards me; which I doubt not but I have obtained much the better by your continual suit
and means. Wherefore I think myself bound to pray for you during my life; and that I both
do and will continue with the Grace of God. Sir, as touching mine apparel, I have made no
bill. For the King’s Highnes favour is so good cloathing unto me, that I can desire no more;
and so have written to his Grace, resting wholly in him, and willing to wear whatever his
Grace shall appoint me. My Lord, I do thank you with all my heart for the horse that you
sent me with this bearer. Wherein you have done me a great pleasure. For I had never a one
to ride upon sometimes for my health, and besides that my servant sheweth me that he is
such a one, that I may of good right accept not only the mind of the giver, but also the gift.
And thus I commit you to God, whom I do and shall daily pray to be with you in all your
business, and to reward you for so exceeding great pains and labours that you take in my
sutes.”[201]

And again:—
“My Lord,
“After my most hearty commendations, I think the time so long since I heard from the
King’s Highness, my most benign father, that nature moveth me to be so bold as to send
my servant this bearer with letters to his Grace, and also to the Queen, because I would
very fain know how their Graces do, desiring you, my Lord, if for lack of witt I have sent
sooner than I should have done, molesting his Grace with my rude letters, you will make
such an excuse for me as your wisdom shall think best. For till it may please his Highness
to license me to come into his presence which of all worldly things is my chiefest desire,
my next comfort is, to hear often of his Grace’s health and prosperous estate; which I
beseech our Lord long to preserve. My lord, your servant hath brought me the well-
favoured horse that you have given me, with a very goodly saddle; for the which I do thank
you with all my heart. For he seemeth to be, indeed as good as I have heard report of him,
which was that he had all the qualities belonging to a good horse. Wherefore I trust in time
to come, the riding upon him shall do me very much good concerning my health. For I am
wont to find great ease in riding.”[202]

Mary’s appearance at court was still delayed, probably on account of the
difficulty with regard to her rank. If the King’s eldest daughter was
thenceforth to be regarded as heiress apparent, she must appear as Princess
of Wales, with pomp and circumstance, but all was as yet uncertain, and for

the same reason, Henry came to no conclusion, respecting the various
marriages again proposed for her. If he had no son, he would be unwilling
for her to leave the kingdom, but in any case hers was a name to intrigue
with. “He feels,” wrote Chapuys to the Emperor, “that he is getting old, and
has no male children to succeed him on the throne, and knows that he will
have enough to do to keep the peace in his own kingdom, where the
novelties he has introduced are not generally approved of. He therefore
thinks of nothing else save making of good cheer, and filling his coffers
with the feathers of those whom he wishes to put down. All his late shifting
and dissimulation have no other origin, than the fear he has of your
Majesty’s affairs becoming prosperous again, and your coming over to
England to chastise him.”[203]
But unpopular as Henry was, Cromwell was looked upon as the evil
genius of the throne. It was he who had inspired the divorce of Katharine,
the disinheriting of Mary, the suppression of the monasteries, the execution
of those who denied the royal supremacy, and the introduction of such
heretics as Cranmer and Latimer into the sees of Canterbury and Worcester.
In the south, the general discontent was paralysed by dread, but the hardy,
frugally living people of the eastern and northern counties knew no fear.
The dissolution of the smaller monasteries was the signal for revolt. The
Canons of Hexham fortified their house. One of their number appeared in
armour on the leads, and declared to the King’s Commissioners, that the
twenty inmates would all die before they would yield, and the
Commissioners thought it prudent to withdraw. But the Lincolnshire men
rose first. The rebels in the east numbered at the outset from forty to fifty
thousand men, and their ranks swelled daily. They would undoubtedly have
carried all before them, had not the leaders of the King’s army been as
prompt as they were efficient. The Duke of Suffolk swept up from the
south, the Earl of Shrewsbury from the west, and the King himself would
have headed a third contingent, had it been necessary. But no sooner were
Lincolnshire, Norfolk and Suffolk subdued, than Yorkshire, Lancashire and
all the northern counties were up in arms. Soon, Skipton Castle, held by the
Earl of Cumberland for the King, was the only spot north of the Humber
that Henry could count upon. If the rebels had triumphed, there is no doubt
that Mary would have been placed on the throne.[204]

A statute had been passed on the 8th July 1536, declaring Elizabeth base-
born,[205] and on Sunday, 30th August, Mary was proclaimed heiress-
apparent in one of the London churches. When the Yorkshire men rose, on
the 9th October, they swore to be true “to the King’s lawful issue and the
noble blood”. Robert Aske, leader of the insurgents, was declared Grand
Captain of the Commons of Yorkshire. He could rely on the staunch loyalty
of 30,000 “tall men and well horsed,” as well as on the enthusiastic
adherence of the whole population, while the King’s forces, under the Duke
of Norfolk, only amounted to 6,000 men, hampered in their every
movement northwards by the disaffection of the midland and eastern
counties. Had all these advantages been husbanded by the rebels, they
might have dictated terms to Henry; but the strongest arm is powerless
against a subtle brain, and Cromwell soon perceived that his one chance lay
in negotiation. The word meant with him stratagem and fraud. The promise
of a free pardon, and a Parliament at York was so worded, that it was
understood by all the leaders of the rising to mean consent to their demands.
They disbanded their troops, and by degrees order was restored. Then, all
the northern towns were strongly garrisoned by the King, and the last
palpitating throes of the rebellion were eagerly seized upon as a pretext for
withdrawing every concession that had been made. The Lords Dacre and
Hussey were arrested and sent to the block. The Earl of Northumberland
and Sir Robert Constable, with the Abbots of Barlings, of Fountains and of
Jervaulx, were hanged in chains. Lady Bulmer, for encouraging the rebels,
was burned at the stake. A letter from Henry to his lieutenant in the north
gave him carte blanche for every atrocity. The King wrote:—
“We approve of your proceeding in the displaying of your banner, which,
being now spread, till it is closed again, the course of our laws must give
place to martial law; and before you close it up again, you must cause such
dreadful execution upon a good number of the inhabitants, hanging them on
trees, quartering them and setting their heads and quarters in every town, as
shall be a fearful warning, whereby shall ensue the preservation of a great
multitude.”[206]
It is noticeable that the King does not here speak of the execution of the
leaders, but of “a good number of the inhabitants,” an order which resulted
in the most fearful carnage. The Duke of Norfolk, anxious to prove his
loyalty, declared that his only regret was that there were not enough iron

chains in the country in which to hang the prisoners; ropes must serve for
some. But he flattered himself that so great a number put to death at one
time had never yet been heard of.[207] “It was,” says one writer, “as if the
earth had broken out into gibbets, but in spite of them the people, though
coerced, were not cowed.”
Lord Dacre, speaking before the Council, had a tongue as free as when he
led his Yorkshire yokels to battle. “It is thou,” he said boldly, confronting
Cromwell, “that art the very special and chief cause of all this rebellion and
wickedness, and dost daily travail to bring us to our ends and strike off our
heads. I trust that ere thou diest, though thou wouldst procure all the noblest
heads within the realm to be stricken off, yet there shall one head remain
that shall strike off thy head.” After the pardon at Doncaster, three hundred
persons wished to pull the curate out of the pulpit at Kendal Church, crying
out: “He shall proclaim the Pope to be supreme head of the Church, or be
cast into the water!”[208]
But in spite of the anxieties caused by the rebellion, the perennial subject
of the disposal of Mary’s hand in marriage was occupying public attention
both at home and abroad. It kept the possibility of an alliance with Henry
perpetually before the arbiters of European affairs, and did more to avert
war than all his other tactics. But it is clear, with the whole history of his
negotiations before us, that he never intended Mary to leave the country,
and risk her repudiation of all that he had been at so great pains to wring
from her.
Already, in February 1536, the Emperor had devised a marriage between
his cousin Mary, and Don Loys, brother of King Emanuel of Portugal, his
brother-in-law. Henry appeared to look favourably on the proposed match,
and in June, a formal demand was made for her hand. The matter was
allowed to drag on indefinitely; raised from time to time with much
affectation of seriousness, to suit Henry’s policy, it was again repeatedly
dropped, for the nice adjustment of the scale, when Francis became restive,
at the apparent understanding between his ally and his enemy. Then the
proposed union of the Princess Mary with the Duke of Orleans was once
more brought forward, and so the changes rang for some time. But all this
was merely on the surface; and the question of Mary’s legitimacy was the
only real point at issue, for it involved the whole series of events which had

landed Henry in his actual position with regard to his own subjects, to his
fellow-sovereigns, and to the Pope, still a power to be reckoned with. To
yield that point was to give up all he had been fighting for during the last
ten years, and to cut away the ground from under his feet. If he temporised
long enough, the possible birth of a son might allow him to restore his
daughter without loss of his own dignity.
Charles V., in putting forward Don Loys as a suitor, made the condition,
that the slur cast by Henry on Mary’s birth should be removed; and Henry’s
instructions to his special envoy, Sir Thomas Wyatt, on the renewal of his
amity with the Emperor, show the use her father intended to make of her
renunciation of her birthright.
“If,” the instructions ran, “the Emperor is grieved that the lady Mary is
declared illegitimate, although born in bona fide parentum, Wyatt must
declare that when the prohibition is of the law of God, bona fides cannot be
alleged; moreover, that the assertion of her illegitimacy will irritate the
King, and Wyatt shall deliver a letter to the Emperor from the lady Mary
showing how she reputes herself. If the Emperor speaks of an overture of
marriage that was lately made for her with the Infant of Portugal, he shall
say he has no commission therein, but thinks the matter might be arranged,
if the Infant will take her, as only to succeed to the Crown in default of
issue male or female from his present queen.”[209]
Chapuys’ letter to the Emperor on the 7th October proves that her
difficulties were not yet at an end:—
“I have just this moment received a letter from the Princess, saying that
yesterday, the King her father sent her the draft of a letter which he wished
her to write to your Majesty, the substance of which is, that being now
better informed than she was before, through reading books and continually
consulting learned and holy persons, perhaps also inspired by the grace of
the Holy Ghost, she has of her own free will, without compulsion of any
sort, suggestion, impression, respect or regard for any person whomsoever,
acknowledged, confirmed, and approved the statutes of this kingdom,
declaring her mother’s marriage to have been unlawful, and the King her
father to be the chief of the Church, at the same time, begging and
entreating your Majesty to allow truth to prevail, and not disturb nor impede

it at the General Council or anywhere else—all this, in order that the King,
who has behaved so kindly towards the Princess, may not have occasion to
treat her differently. The Princess desires me to inform your Majesty of this,
and wishes to know what answer she is to give to her father’s request. She
would also be glad for your Majesty to show discontent at her and her acts.
Though it seems to me, that this is not the time nor the opportunity for
doing so, I could not do otherwise than obey the Princess, and express her
wishes in that particular. It might be that your Majesty could find hereafter
some excuse for dissembling, not meddling in the affair, but giving some
evasive answer or other; for although this King may insist upon the letter
being written, perhaps he may not send it on, and will keep it by him, to use
at the proper time and place. This has been the cause of my reporting, as
fully as I have done, on the contents of the draft which the Princess has in
her possession, I have taken care to inform Count Cifuentes of everything,
even of the protest which she has already signed, as well as of that which
she ought to make, before the letter demanded of her is written, that the
Count may speak (to the Pope) and answer as the case requires.”[210]
The next day, he wrote again to Cifuentes, saying that it would be
necessary to warn his Holiness of all that was going on, that he might not,
in the event of the said letter being written, or of a similar one being shown
to him, reply to the Princess as if he were angry for what had been done.
“As these people have their doubts, as to the precise wording of the
Princess’s renunciation, and have their fears and suspicions concerning the
future, they are now taking their measures, and trying to make sure of her
before they bring her back to court. Should she come, I will do my best to
find out a remedy in all this business; for the present nothing more can be
done. Her Highness must be advised and encouraged to listen to the words
of these people, and not let them imagine that under what her Highness is
now doing there lies a danger for them. If your Lordship does not know it
already, I can tell you that for a long time back, her Highness has, by my
advice, applied such a remedy, and drawn such protests for the safeguarding
of her right, that I do not think any more are required. To the protest
formerly made, the Princess herself has since added, after consulting over
the matter with me, certain clauses and words which render all other
precautions perfectly useless. Your Lordship however must keep profoundly
secret in these matters, for should these people hear of our precautionary

measures for the future, the Princess would not be allowed to live long. It is
therefore necessary that no living person should know of this save your
Lordship, to whom I cannot at present sufficiently declare the precise text
of the letters which her Highness, as aforesaid, will be compelled to write.
You may however be sure of one thing, namely, that those who have the
charge of making the draft thereof will forget no circumstance nor
expression likely to serve their purpose, and will make the Princess sign it.
The Princess herself being apprehensive of what may come out of all this,
has sent me orders to communicate with his Imperial Majesty, and with
your most illustrious Lordship on the subject, that you may be warned, and
prepared to answer whenever the thing be made public; but above all, let it
be settled, that whatever papers and letters her Highness is made to sign on
this occasion, there is no truth whatever in them, and that she signs them by
sheer force.”[211]
The drafts above alluded to consisted of two letters, one addressed to the
Pope, the other to the Queen of Hungary. The contents were practically a
repetition of the declarations which Cromwell drew up for Mary to
transcribe six months before. The expressions used were of course less
abject than those which purported to be addressed by her to her father, but
the renunciation was the same. The conclusion of the letter addressed to the
Pope was to the effect that he should no longer trouble himself with the
affairs of England, since the King had really and truly the right on his side,
and reasons of his own to act as he did. Of her own free consent, she had
renounced the succession, and begged that neither in the future Council nor
out of it, the subject might be mentioned, or anything done contrary to the
wishes of the King of England, or for the sake of the King of Portugal,
because such was her resolution, and she was much pleased with it.
Chapuys, we have seen, was quite convinced that nothing remained for
Mary but to sign the drafts. Her justification would, as before, be the
compulsion exercised, and her written protests would, he considered, be
sufficient proof that she had not been a free agent. Nevertheless, he was
anxious that the Pope should be told of the thraldom in which she had
signed, and should declare her guiltless of all participation in the sin. His
anxiety was probably the reflex of her own, and his personal regard for her
made him wish to soothe, as far as he was able, her much-tried conscience.
Since she had acted by his advice in the tangled skein of diplomacy in

which she was caught, his chivalry and affection prompted him to obtain for
her all the relief he could. He wrote to the Emperor on the subject, and
Charles referred the matter to his ambassador in Rome. Cifuentes had no
personal acquaintance with Mary, and viewed the subject in the mere light
of politics. He told the Emperor in a ciphered despatch, that it would be
useless, and even dangerous to apply for a papal brief, absolving the
Princess from her oath, as, in his opinion, the imperial ambassador in
England had not shown sufficient cause why the publication of the
Princess’s justification to the world should be delayed; for should his
Holiness come to know what the Princess had done, the French would
sooner or later hear of it; and, if so, the King of England be immediately
informed of the fact, and therefore the danger to her life would be increased
twofold. The above were the reasons which he (Cifuentes) had for not
applying for a delay; but since Chapuys still insisted upon it, after mature
deliberation the following expedient had been thought of: The Pope should
be petitioned for a vivæ voces oraculo in genere, tacitly including Mary, and
empowering all confessors to absolve those who might have fallen into
these “new English errors”. “In that class the Princess would necessarily be
comprised, and therefore any public justification on her own part might be
delayed for some time.” Cifuentes goes on to say that Chapuys should remit
the whole matter to him, surrounded as he is by those whom he can trust,
and who cannot fail to help him by their wisdom and learning. If he should
then find just and honest causes why the Princess should be absolved by her
confessor, well and good. In this way, his Holiness would be entirely
ignorant of the precise and particular object for which his verbal declaration
was needed.[212]
Mary signed the letters, and the Pope apparently gave the dispensation
asked for, without knowing who was especially to be benefited by it, and
we hear no more of the matter.
In the midst of these wretched diplomatic transactions occurs the first
note of joy that has greeted Mary for years, more completely reconciling
her to her father than all the horrible concessions wrung from her by threats
and entreaties. The Queen gave promise of an heir, and Mary was sent for
to the court. The following curious extract from a contemporary document
describes the meeting between her and the King and Queen. It is,

unfortunately, undated, but bears intrinsic evidence that it refers to the
spring of 1537:—
“Thus the good Lady Mary’s grace lived a long time in disgrace of the
King her father, in hard imprisonment, and danger of her life, till at the
lenght, Ann Bullen being dead, and the King maried againe unto Queen
Jane, Edward’s mother by whose meanes she came againe in favour with
the King—as thus: Upon a time as the King and the Queene were together,
she being great with child with King Edward, the King said unto her—Why,
darling, how happeneth it you are no merier. She wisely answered, Now it
hath pleased your grace to make me your wife, there are none but my
inferiors to make mery withall, your grace excepted, unlesse it would please
you that wee might enjoye the company of the Lady Marie’s grace at the
Court; I could be mery with her. We will have her here, darling, if she will
make the merry. So presently the King commanded all her women to be put
to her againe, and all in rich array with his daughter, the Lady Mary, in most
gorgeous apparel, to come the next day unto the Court, all apparelled at the
King’s charge. The King and the Queene standing in the chamber of
presence by the fier. This worthy lady entered with all her train. So soon as
she came within the chamber doore, she made lowe curtsey unto him; in the
midst of the chamber she did so againe, and when she came to him, she
made them both lowe cursey, and falling on her knees asked his blessing,
who after he had given her his blessing, took her up by the hand, and kist
her, and the Queen also, both bidding her welcome. Then the King turning
him to the Lords there in presence, said—Some of you weare desirous that I
should put this jewell to death. That had been great pittie, quoth the Queene,
to have lost your chefest jewell of England.... But Mary, knowing that when
her father flattered, most mischief was like to ensue, her coler going and
coming, at last in a swoone fell down amongst them. With that the King
being greatly perplexed, what for the fear of his daughter, and the frighting
of his wife that was then great with child, sought all meanes possible to
recover her, and being come to herself, bid her be a good comfort, for
nothing should goe against her, and after perfect recovery, took her by the
hand, and walked up and down with her. Then commandment was made
that she should be called Lady Princess, and the other Lady Elizabeth. Why,
governor, quoth the Lady Elizabeth, being but a child, how happs it

yesterday, Lady Princess and to-day but Lady Elizabeth? Here was a
haughtie stomach betimes.”[213]
The account is inaccurate in two points. Henry never gave in on the
question of Mary’s title. Princess in those days meant heiress to the Crown,
and he would have been less likely than ever to give it back to his daughter,
when the passionately longed-for son might shortly be granted to him.
Moreover, Elizabeth had been deprived of the title by act of Parliament
months before, and would not have remained in ignorance of the fact till
Mary’s return to court, as it had nothing whatever to do with her sister, in
the actual state of affairs, but with the declared nullity of Anne Boleyn’s
marriage.
On the 23rd May, arrived Hurtado de Mendoza, special envoy from
Charles V., to confer with Chapuys, and learn from him his latest news of
the King’s will, regarding the Portuguese match. He remained in England
for more than a year, and during that time, the wearisome negotiations went
on, with the utmost insistence as to detail, while Henry was probably
determined from the outset that they should come to nothing. He declared
bluntly his refusal to legitimatise Mary, but held out hopes that she would
be heiress to the throne, should he die without legitimate issue. When the
Emperor had first suggested the marriage, the King of Portugal was
disinclined to it, saying that no confidence could be placed in Henry, but
Charles had set his mind upon it, and wrote to his ambassador in England,
that if it appeared that the Princess would be forced into some other union
(he feared with Cromwell) they were to see whether it would be possible to
carry her out of the country. Henry told Gardiner to answer any inquiries
about the Lady Mary’s marriage with Don Loys, that it was “neither agreed
upon nor in any towardness”. Further, in his instructions to Sir Thomas
Wyatt, whom he was sending as envoy to Charles, he told him that if the
Emperor marvelled, that there was no furtherance in the matter, he should
reply that Mendoza brought no commission for it, and came so slenderly
despatched that the default is not since supplied, and thinks the matter
scarcely in earnest.[214]
All these excuses were made to gain time. If a prince were born and
lived, there would be less danger in sending Mary abroad, but among so
many aspirants to her hand, Henry was resolved only to part with her to the

highest bidder, if, indeed, he parted with her at all. The match with the
Duke of Orleans was perhaps the most to his liking, but Francis demanded
that she should be declared legitimate, and that was the only thing Henry
was quite resolved not to do. If he had no son, all foreign princes would
agree, in spite of him, in looking upon her as his rightful heir, and in view
of such a contingency he could not afford to let her go out of the kingdom.
His difficulties were so far understood on the continent, as to create a
general apprehension that he would marry her to Cromwell.
In the midst of the universal tension, the Queen was brought to bed on
the 12th October, vigil of Edward the Confessor. But so slowly did even
great news travel in those days, that on the 17th, in many parts of the
country, the people were still praying for a prince, while in others, vague
rumours were beginning to circulate to the effect that they had one. The
circumstance was not known in Brussels till the 20th, when the Emperor
expressed his satisfaction, and said he thought that his cousin Mary was
delivered of a great burden.[215]
At the christening of Prince Edward, “the most dearest son of King
Henry,” Mary was the most prominent figure as godmother. She walked
next to the canopy, under which the royal infant was carried, her train being
borne by Lady Kingston. Then the chrism (for the Prince’s confirmation)
”richly garnished was borne by the Lady Elizabeth, the King’s daughter, the
same lady for her tender age being borne by the Viscount Beauchamp, with
the assistance of the Lord Morley”. On the return of the procession from the
church, Elizabeth walked by the side of Mary, who held her hand, and the
Prince “was taken to the King and Queen, and had the blessing of God, our
Lady and St. George, and of his father and mother”. A Te Deum was sung in
St. Paul’s and in other churches of the city, and great fires were made in
every street. There was much “goodly banqueting, shooting of guns all day
and night, and great gifts were distributed”.
The nation’s joy, which was undoubtedly deep and sincere, can hardly be
said to have turned into mourning, when the news was spread that the good
Queen had received the Sacraments of Penance and Extreme Unction, and
was dying. It was not merely that the people had not had time to become
attached to her, but the sixteenth century set no great value on human life in
general, and that of a queen consort was held exceptionally cheap in

England. It was a time when there might indeed be indignation for wrongs,
and tears for a friend’s misfortune; but little grief was felt for bodily
sufferings or death. Deeply as Katharine of Arragon was beloved by English
men and women, and loudly as they expressed their sense of the injuries
inflicted on her, her death would perhaps have caused little emotion, had it
not been accompanied by suspicious circumstances. When Anne Boleyn
went to her doom, even her friends were indifferent, although the obvious
unfairness of her trial aroused pity and abhorrence. The Duke of
Richmond’s funeral passed almost unnoticed; and if the executions after the
Northern Rising sent a thrill of horror through the country, this was
produced by butcheries such as had never before been known. That which
was natural and inevitable excited little notice, and Gardiner was not more
wanting in sensibility than the rest of his contemporaries, when he crudely
charged the envoys to announce to the King of France, that “though the
Prince is well, and sucketh like a child of his puissance, the Queen, by the
neglect of those about her, who suffered her to take cold, and eat such
things as her fantasy in sickness called for, is dead”.[216] He went on to say
that “the King though he takes this chance reasonably, is little disposed to
marry again, but some of his Council have thought it meet to urge him to it,
for the sake of his realm, and he has framed his mind both to be indifferent
to the thing, and to the election of any person from any part that with
deliberation shall be thought meet”.
Queen Jane died on the 24th October, and in a letter to Lord Lisle on the
3rd November Sir John Wallop says: “The King is in good health, and
merry as a widower may be, the Prince also”.[217]
By command of the Duke of Norfolk, twelve hundred Masses were
ordered to be said for the repose of the Queen’s soul, and a solemn Dirge
and Requiem were sung at St. Paul’s. Jane had died at Hampton Court, but
was buried at Windsor, on the 12th November, Mary being chief mourner at
her funeral, following the hearse on horseback at a foot’s pace. Her palfrey
was in black velvet trappings and her train was held up by eight ladies of
the highest rank.

FOOTNOTES:
[192] Sm., vol. xlvii., f. 26, 2. Hearne, p. 144.
[193] Chapuys to Charles V., 8th July 1536, Vienna Archives. Gairdner, Cal., xi.,
40.
[194] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 199.
[195] Gairdner, Cal., xi., 219.
[196] Gairdner, Cal., xi., 221.
[197] Add. MS. 28,589, f. 44, Brit. Mus., Chapuys to the Empress, 29th Aug.
1536.
[198] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 157.
[199] See an interesting letter from Lady Bryan to Cromwell, appendix B.
[200] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 291. Hearne, p. 131.
[201] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 274. Hearne, p. 129.
[202] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 292. Hearne, 132.
[203] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 258.
[204] The depositions of the malcontents often contained expressions to the effect
that the country was “ruled by knaves,” and that the people thought “the Lady
Mary would have a title to the Crown one day”. In the course of the examination of
the ringleaders, in the Tower, after the rebellion, one of them said, “The Lady Mary
ought to be favoured for her great virtues, and the statute annulled ... that she
should not be made illegitimate except by the law of the whole Church, for she is
marvellously beloved by the whole people” (Examination of Aske, Record Office).
[205] The reason given was the affinity between her mother and the King’s
former mistress, Anne Boleyn’s sister. “Le statut declairant princesse légitime
héritiere la fille de la concubine a este revoque, et elle [mesme] declairee bastarde,
non point comme fille de maistre Norris, comme se pouvait plus honnestement
dire, mais pour avoir avant este le mariage entre la dite concubine et le dit roy
illégitime a cause qu’il avait cognu charnellement la sœur de la dite concubine”
(Chapuys to M. de Granville, 8th July, 1536, Vienna Archives).
[206] State Papers, i., 537, Record Office.
[207] Gairdner, Cal., xii., 498.

[208] Gairdner, Cal., xii., 384.
[209] Harl. MS. 282, f. 79, Brit. Mus.
[210] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 267. Vienna Archives.
[211] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 270.
[212] Gayangos, Cal., vol. v., pt. ii., p. 272.
[213] Belvoir MS., Hist. MSS. Comm., vol. i., p. 309 et seq., Report xii.,
appendix iv.
[214] Harl. MS. 282, f. 34.
[215] Harl. MS. 282, f. 257.
[216] Record Office, State Papers, viii., 1.
[217] Gairdner, Cal., xii., pt. ii., 1023.

CHAPTER VII.
THE DESIRE OF ALL EYES.
1537-1547.
Mary was now the most prominent princess in Europe. The character, the
accomplishments, the personal charms of none were so amply discussed, so
widely known, so universally admired. Her beauty is spoken of in terms
which to modern ears sound extravagant. There was scarcely a marriageable
representative of any royal house, who did not aspire to her hand, for
strange as it seems, there is no sign that her political value was diminished
by the birth of an heir to the throne. If Henry would but have consented to
declare her legitimate, Francis I. would have entered eagerly into a fresh
negotiation for her marriage with the Duke of Orleans, the question of
which was being constantly renewed during the next few years.[218] Sir
William Paget, the English ambassador in France, did his best to promote
the match in 1542, and Henry would have been far more likely to make
concessions to please Francis, than for any other consideration, but to give
in on that point would have been to stultify all that he had done. The
Emperor’s candidate had less chance still. He had never been a persona
grata at the English court, and however anxious Henry was to avoid war, he
was far from contemplating a close alliance with Charles. There remained
the German Protestant princes, the Emperor’s enemies, and they admirably
suited Henry’s purpose of hampering Charles in every possible way; but
when this policy threatened to push him into the arms of France, Henry
abandoned the Lutherans, greatly to Cromwell’s disgust, and suggested that
Charles, then a widower, should take Mary, and his son Philip, her sister
Elizabeth. The proposal was sufficient to save the situation, without
committing him to anything definite, knowing as he did full well, that it
would be met by a demand for Mary’s rehabilitation, without which no step
in the direction of such a marriage would be taken.
It is easy to form a notion of Mary’s personal appearance during these
years, for besides the portraits painted by Holbein, who generally aimed at

faithful likenesses, remarks on her face and form are sandwiched into most
of the longer despatches of the ambassadors of all the principal powers of
Europe. Marillac, the French envoy, wrote more soberly than most of them,
for he was not much inclined to a closer friendship between his master and
a renegade of Henry’s kidney, the excesses “of this King” being a theme on
which he and his colleagues dwelt freely. He describes Mary as ”twenty-
four years of age, of medium height, with well-proportioned features, and a
perfect complexion, which makes her look as if she were but eighteen. Her
voice is full and deep, and rather more masculine in tone than her father’s.
Some praise her musical talents, others her proficiency in languages, others
her dancing; all feel the charm of her goodness and benignity, and the pure
atmosphere that surrounds her, in marvellous contrast to the tainted air of
the court.”[219]
The author of The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria observes, in the
stiff phraseology of the time, that when she grew older she was commended
“to the most noble and Catholic princess, the lady Mary, so persuaded by
her grandfather Sidney, whom two of his daughters had served before, and
died in her service much favoured of her Highness for their virtue. When
the queens (the wives of King Henry) had sought with much importunity to
have them in their service, they would by no means leave the lady Mary,
although the King himself requested it. In those days the house of this
princess was the only harbour for honourable young gentlewomen given
any way to piety and devotion. It was the true school of virtuous
demeanour, befitting the education that ought to be in noble damsels, and
the greatest lords of the kingdom were suitors to her to receive their
daughters in her service.“[220]
It was perhaps mainly on account of the esteem in which she was held, at
home and abroad, that Mary was the object of so jealous a supervision on
the part of Henry’s Council. The parents and guardians of the many “noble
damsels” who desired an asylum in her house were peremptorily informed
that she might have no more than the prescribed number; and occasionally
one or two would be dismissed in the most arbitrary manner, no reason
being given. Her every movement was watched with suspicion, and even
when she was supposed to be enjoying her father’s favour, she was
continually on the verge of losing it, for the most innocent causes. She
could not exercise the least hospitality without being subjected to

annoyance, and in May 1538, the fact of her having entertained guests,
whom she allowed to sleep under her roof, was made a matter of accusation
to the Council. Her reply to Cromwell’s remonstrance and warning is
significant of the bondage in which she was held.
“My Lord,
“After my most hearty commendations to you, these shall be to give you thanks for the
gentle and friendly letter which I received from you upon Sunday last, whereby I may well
perceive, not only your continual diligence to further me in the King’s highness’s favour
(which I take God to my judge is mine only comfort and treasure in this world), but also
your wise and friendly counsel, in advertising me to eschew such things, whereby I might
seem to give any other occasion than should be expedient for me; for the which your
goodness, my lord, I think myself more bound to you than ever I did. For rather than I
would willingly commit any jot contrary to the increasing of the King’s majesty’s favour,
my most gracious and benign father, towards me, I would not only utterly eschew all
occasions to the contrary (according to my bounden duty), but also suffer certain pain of
body; for I take that for the chief part of my life in this world. Wherefore, concerning the
lodging of strangers that you write to me of, although I fear it hath been reported to the
worst, nevertheless, I will promise you, with God’s help from henceforth to refrain it so
utterly, that of right, none shall have cause to speak of it; desiring you, my lord, for God’s
sake to continue your goodness, both in exhorting me to follow such things as you think
most convenient for me, and how I may eschew the contrary. For I confess the frailty of my
youth to be such, that by negligence I may forget myself without the stay of your good
counsel, which whensoever I shall hear, I trust to follow, and to the uttermost of my power,
with God’s grace. To whose keeping I commit you, desiring him to reward you for your
friendly part in this matter towards me, with all others in times past. From Richmond the
27th of May.
“Your assured bounden friend during my life,

“Marye.”[221]

Henry and Cromwell were both anxious to detach her from the Emperor,
and they tried to do so by creating a misunderstanding between them,
telling Mary that he had been wanting in zeal to promote her marriage.
Hurtado de Mendoza was still in England, and Cromwell wrote to inform
her that the ambassador extraordinary would pay her a visit with Chapuys,
at the same time advising her to complain to them of the Emperor’s
coldness on the subject of Don Loys’s suit. But Mary was not for an instant
misled as to Cromwell’s intention, and her answer to his letter shows that
she was learning how to deal with his unscrupulous policy. On the 24th
August 1538, she wrote:—
“My Lord,

“After my most hearty commendations to you, I have received your letters by this
bearer, whereby I do perceive the King’s highness’s my most gracious father’s pleasure,
touching my communication to the emperor’s ambassadors, when they shall come to visit
the prince’s grace, my brother; which thing (although his grace’s pleasure except) I would
have been very loath to have spoken of, considering myself a young maid, and very willing
to continue that life, if his said majesty will permit the same; nevertheless, according to my
duty, I shall fulfil all things contained in your letters, as well as my simple wit will serve
me; and also write their whole answer unto you as soon as they shall depart. In the
meanwhile, not forgetting the inestimable goodness of the King’s majesty towards me, in
esteeming my bestowing more than I have or shall deserve, which can do nothing but (as I
am most bounden) in all things obey his grace’s commandments to the end of my life; as
knoweth God, whose help I shall continually ask to perform my said duty, and thus commit
you to his holy keeping.
“From Portgore, this Saint Bartholomew’s day at after dinner.
“Your assured loving friend during my life,

“Marye.”[222]

She then at once communicated Cromwell’s letter to the envoys, in order
that they might be prepared with an answer, when they came to see her.
Chapuys, on behalf of both, thus described the whole matter to the
Emperor, six days later:—
“The King granted us permission to visit the Prince and the Princess,
though we perceived that had we not applied for such permission, he
himself would have requested us to go, for he evidently wished the latter to
speak to us, as prescribed in a letter of Sir Cromwell, addressed to her in his
(the King’s) name. The substance of the letter was that she (the Princess)
had heard from an authentic quarter, the dissimulation employed by us, your
Majesty’s ambassadors, in the discussion of the affair concerning her
individually, and that from the fact of your Majesty being her good lord and
cousin, all people would have thought that your kindness and friendship
towards her would have been of greater magnitude. Being a woman, she
could not help saying so much to us; not indeed that she felt any particular
desire or anxiety for the issue of the matter in question (since she only
obeyed in that respect the commands of her most gracious and loving father
the King, in whom, after God, she placed all her trust) but because after so
many overtures and fine words, nothing had been concluded, as she heard;
and also because when merchants were in the habit of bestowing as a dower
on their daughters, one fourth of their annual revenue in cash, we Imperial
ministers should only have offered 20,000 ducats, and even those so

uncertain as to the manner of settlement, that had misfortune obliged her to
leave England, and have recourse to her dower, she might perhaps never
have known upon what her revenue was settled. Sir Cromwell, as it appears,
had besides, written to her to use the very words of the letter, coupled with
such gentle terms as her own wisdom and natural discretion might suggest,
and immediately inform him of what passed at the interview with us. We
must observe that the contents of Sir Cromwell’s letter to the Princess had
been duly communicated by her to us, the day before we called, that we
might be prepared to shape our answer in writing; which we did
accordingly, that she herself might transmit it to her father the King.
“The answer, as we flatter ourselves, is courteous and satisfactory for
both parties. We omit it for fear of lengthening this despatch of ours already
too prolix perhaps.
“After visiting the Prince, who is the prettiest child we ever set eyes
upon, we returned to the Princess, and began again, to speak about Sir
Cromwell’s letter, and our own answer to it. After a good deal of
conversation on the subject, the Princess said to us, that all her hopes
centred in God, and your Imperial Majesty, and that she held you in the
room of father and mother, and was so affectionately attached to you, that it
seemed almost impossible to her to have such an affection and love for a
kinsman. She knew perfectly well, that it had not been your fault, if the
affair of her marriage had remained in the state in which it is, that she really
believed what we had told her to be the exact truth, in spite of the efforts
made to persuade her to the contrary. Indeed, she owned to us, that about
last Lent, the King her father had tried to convince her that your Imperial
Majesty proceeded in the affair with the utmost dissimulation, and without
any wish whatsoever to treat of it, so much so that it seemed as if the whole
thing had been planned, in order to bring discredit upon him (the King).
She, the Princess, had before and after her father’s representations,
experienced that the contrary was the case, and therefore she was now ready
to act one way or the other, whichever your Imperial Majesty decided,
respecting the marriage proposal. This seemed to us a fair opportunity to
ask her, as we did, then and there, whether in case of a favourable
opportunity presenting itself, she would have courage enough to leave
England by stealth. To this question of ours, the Princess, from modesty, as
we presume, did at first show some reluctance to reply. Then she said that

she could not say yes or no, for things might arrive at such a pitch, and the
occasion for her departure from this country might become so propitious
and favourable, that she would have no scruple or difficulty at all in
leaving. Anyhow she would let me know her intentions on that score; for it
might happen after all, that the King her father might hereafter show greater
consideration for her, or cause her to be more respected and better treated
than she had been until now; in which case, she would much prefer
remaining in England, and conforming herself entirely to her father’s
commands and wishes, obeying him implicitly and so forth, though still
acting by my advice. Such was the Princess’s language in the two long
conferences we held with her. In short, she begged us to present to your
Majesty her most humble commendations, until she herself did so by
letter.”[223]
Mary had reasons enough to dread worse treatment, in spite of her
humble expressions of submissive obedience. After the first flush of her
reconciliation and return to court, and more especially after the death of
Queen Jane, who had always befriended her, Henry’s irritation broke out
afresh. At Easter 1538, the mourning for the Queen being over, Lady
Kingston sent to Wriothesley, Keeper of the Wardrobe and Cromwell’s
Secretary, “to know the King’s pleasure whether my Lady Mary’s grace
should leave wearing of black this Easter or not”. She received the
ungracious reply that the Lady Mary might wear “what colour she would”.
Nothing daunted, Lady Kingston again wrote, “My Lady’s grace desireth
you now to be a suitor to the King’s grace, for her wearing her whiten
taffety edged with velvet, which used to be to his own liking, whenever he
saw her grace, and suiteth to this joyful feast of our Lord’s holy rising from
the dead”.[224] There is no answer to this letter, but about the same time
there is a warrant in Cromwell’s Remembrances, written in Wriothesley’s
hand, “for apparell for my Lady Mary”.[225]
During the whole of this year, although supposed to be in favour, Mary
was not only in an uncomfortable, but in a more or less dangerous position.
She was virtually a prisoner in her own house, and was not even allowed to
take the exercise which her health needed. Henry saw her occasionally and
dined with her at Richmond in May; but she was closely watched, and

scarcely ever permitted to appear in public, while the sums allowed for her
household expenses were painfully inadequate.
On the 14th September, Mendoza wrote to Charles V., that when he last
saw her, she was in good health, but he had heard, that she had been unwell
for the last few days, and that he thought the cause of it was to be found in
the confinement in which she lived, “for nowadays she is kept much closer,
and more poorly than before”. This new piece of persecution had for its sole
object to force her to give up her only powerful friend, the Emperor, whose
advice to her Henry felt was continually getting in the way of his own
particular affairs. He could not apparently convince her that Charles’s
friendship was not disinterested, but at least he could keep her a constant
“suitor,” and in the humble position of a beggar, at his own royal and sacred
feet. The letter which she wrote to Cromwell, in her urgent need for money,
was entirely after the despot’s heart.
“My Lord,
“After my most hearty commendations to you; forasmuch as I have always found your
gentleness such as never refused to further my continual suites to you, it maketh me the
bolder to use mine accustomed manner in writing to you, to be mean for me to the King’s
Highness, for such things as I have need of, which at this time is this. It hath pleased the
King’s majestie, my most gracious father, of his great goodness, to send me every quarter
of this year, fourty pounds, as you best know; for you were always a mean for it as (I thank
you) you be for all my other suits. And seeing this quarter of Christmas must needs be
more chargeable than the rest, specially considering the house I am in, I would desire you,
if your wisdom thought it most convenient, to be a suitor to the King’s said Highness (if it
may so stand with his gracious pleasure) somewhat to increase that sum. And thus, my
Lord, I am ashamed always to be a beggar to you; but that the occasion at this time is such,
that I cannot chuse. Wherefore I trust in your goodness, you will accept it thereafter. And
thus I commit you to God, desiring him to reward you for all your pains taken for me.
“From Hownsdon, the 8 of December.
“Your assured loving friend during my life,

“Marye.”[226]

Soon after writing this letter, the whirligig of her father’s caprice placed
her again at court, and from the beginning of the following year, she was
the subject of one matrimonial scheme after another, Henry even pretending
to go so far as to associate her with his own plans for a fourth marriage. In
January 1539 Christopher Mont or Mount, a German agent in his service,
was instructed to proceed to the court of the Duke of Saxony, and treat with

Burgartus the Duke’s Vice-chancellor concerning a marriage, between the
young Duke of Cleves and the Lady Mary. There is an amusing difference
between Henry’s solemn, if hollow forms of negotiation with the first-rate
powers of Europe, and the polite contempt with which he treats the petty
German princes. If Burgartus desire “the picture of her face,” and say he
wrote for it, Mont is to remind him that she is a King’s daughter, and that it
was never seen, that the pictures of persons of such degree were sent
abroad. Burgartus moreover has seen her, “and can testify of her proportion,
countenance and beauty, and though she is only the King’s natural daughter,
she is endued, as all the world knows, with such beauty, learning and virtue,
that when the rest is agreed, no man would stick for any part concerning her
beauty and goodness”.
Having disposed of this matter, Cromwell, in his instructions to Mont,
goes on to say that he is diligently to inquire of the beauty and qualities of
the elder of the two daughters of the Duke of Cleves, her shape, stature and
complexion, and if he hear she is “such as might be likened unto his
Majesty,” he shall tell Burgartus, that Cromwell, tendering the King’s
alliance in Germany, “would be glad to induce the King to join with them,
specially for the Duke of Saxony’s sake, who is allied there, and to make a
cross marriage between the young Duke of Cleves and Lady Mary, and the
King and the elder daughter of Cleves; for as yet, he knows no conclusion,
in any of the overtures of marriage made to his grace in France or
Flanders”. But first it was expedient that they should send her portrait.
Mont is not to speak as if demanding her, “but rather to give them a prick to
offer her”.[227]
Mont performed his mission zealously, and pressed the matter, urging
daily, that the portrait of the lady might be sent to England. The Duke
promised to send it, but explained that his painter Lucas Cranach was sick
at home; and meanwhile Mont wrote, that as for her beauty she was said “to
surpass the Duchess of Milan, as the golden sun surpassed the silver moon”.
[228]
The affair concerning the Lady Anne of Cleves continued its course,
and the ultimate sending of her portrait to Henry has been duly chronicled
by all writers on his fourth marriage. But the subject of her brother’s union
with Mary was alternately dropped and revived, until it was at length
allowed to die away in silence. Both schemes were the product of
Cromwell’s ingenuity. They register the height to which Lutheran influence

in the Church of England had risen at this period, the first decisive step
towards his downfall and the return to more Catholic doctrines.
It was while Lutheran doctrines were still in the ascendant in England,
and Mary’s possible bestowal on a Lutheran prince was everywhere
discussed, that the Empress Isabella died, and immediately rumours were
afloat that Charles would marry his cousin. The French at once took alarm,
and Marillac, their ambassador in England, asked Henry what truth there
was in the report. Henry replied, that whoever proposed such a thing must
be out of his senses, although he had himself put the suggestion before
Charles. He affected indignation, and declared that he could never trust the
Emperor, who had once broken his promise to him, and who was always
looking out for an opportunity of setting the Christian princes one against
the other, to serve his own ambition, which was so great, that were he the
sole monarch of Christendom he would not be satisfied.[229]
Nevertheless, he was not believed, and Melancthon complained, that in
England the pious doctrine was again oppressed and adversaries triumphed,
and that some suspected it was owing to the deliberations for the marriage
of the Emperor with the King of England’s daughter. The French
ambassador in Rome said that the Pope was in dread, lest Charles should
ally himself with the great enemy of the Church. Reginald Pole, then in
Rome, wrote to Cardinal Contarini; “They say it is in treaty to give the
Princess to the Emperor. May God do what is best.” There was certainly
some excuse for these surmises in the Catholic reaction taking place in
England, a reaction however that had as little real bearing on an alliance
with the Empire as it had, according to some, on a possible reconciliation
with the Pope. Those who had opposed the King on the subject of his first
divorce, and who still maintained the validity of his marriage with
Katharine of Arragon, were as much in danger as ever, none of his
subsequent matrimonial complications effacing the resentments which the
first had inspired. He was never less inclined, however much he might
persecute heretics, to make up his quarrel with Rome, and Cromwell was
still the powerful enemy of the Catholic party, in spite of his having been
thwarted by the King in his championship of the German reformers. He
could still strike with the other side of his two-edged sword, and the terror
of his name was great; for although Henry and his chief secretary were at
variance on the subject of sacraments, there was a perfect understanding

between them in the matter of the royal supremacy, and headship, and as to
the coercive measures necessary to enforce them.
The principal object of their vengeance at this time was Reginald Pole,
not merely on account of the book he had written On the Unity of the
Church, but more especially because he had appealed to the Emperor to
execute the Bull of Deposition fulminated by the Pope against Henry. All
attempts to lure him back to England had failed, but he was not therefore to
remain entirely unpunished. As it was not possible to strike him directly, he
must suffer through the helpless and innocent members of his family, who
were still in Henry’s power. In default of the son, there was nothing to
prevent reprisals on the mother, and a parliamentary roll, dated 28th April
1539, records the arrest and attainder of Margaret Plantagenet, Countess of
Salisbury, of Lord Montague her eldest son, and of several others. The only
crimes imputed to them were their correspondence with Reginald Pole and
their having “named and promulged that venemous serpent the Bishop of
Rome to be supreme head of the Church of England”.
A letter from John Worth to Lord Lisle, after Lady Salisbury’s arrest,
contains a curious allusion to the old project of betrothing the Princess
Mary to her kinsman.
“Pleaseth your Lordship so it is that there was a coat armour found in the
Duchess of Salisbury’s coffer, and by the one side of the coat, there was the
King’s grace his arms of England, that is the lions without the fleur de lys,
and about the whole arms was made pansies for Pole, and marygolds for my
Lady Mary. This was about the coat armour. And betwixt the marygold and
the pansy was made a tree to rise in the midst, and on the tree a coat of
purple hanging on a bough, in token of the coat of Christ, and on the other
side of the coat all the Passion of Christ. Pole intended to have married my
lady Mary, and betwixt them both should again arise the old doctrine of
Christ. This was the intent that the coat was made, as it is openly known in
the Parliament house, as Master Sir George Speke showed me. And this my
lady Marquess, my lady Salisbury, Sir Adrian Forskew [Fortescue], Sir
Thomas Dingley with divers others are attainted to die by act of
Parliament.”[230]
Pole thus wrote of his mother’s arrest to Cardinal Contarini:—

“You have heard, I believe of my mother being condemned by public
council to death, or rather to eternal life. Not only has he who condemned
her, condemned to death a woman of seventy, than whom he has no nearer
relation except his daughter, and of whom he used to say there was no
holier woman in his kingdom, but at the same time, her grandson, son of my
brother, a child, the remaining hope of our race. See how far this tyranny
has gone, which began with priests, in whose order it only consumed the
best, then [went on] to nobles, and there too destroyed the best. At length it
has come to women and innocent children; for not only my mother is
condemned, but the wife of that marquis [of Exeter] who was slain with my
brother, whose goodness was famous and whose little son is to follow her.
Comparing these things with what the Turk has done in the East, there is no
doubt but that Christians can suffer worse under this western Turk.”[231]
In Cromwell’s Remembrances occurs this entry: “What the King will
have done with the Lady of Salisbury”.[232] It was his pleasure that she
should languish in prison for two years, before her grey head was brought
to the scaffold, but her son, Lord Montague, had suffered no such delay.
Together with Courtenay, Marquis of Exeter he had been arrested, the latter
for no other crime than for saying, “Knaves rule about the King,” and that
he trusted “to give them a buffet some day,” and together they were
beheaded on Tower Hill. Courtenay’s young son Edward, mentioned in
Pole’s letter, remained in the Tower, grew up there, and was liberated by
Mary in person on her accession.
Chapuys describes Lady Salisbury’s execution in the Tower, in presence
of the Lord Mayor and about 150 persons. He says that when informed of
her sentence she found it very strange, not knowing her crime; but she
walked to the space in front of the Tower where there was no scaffold, but
only a small block, and there commended her soul to God. She desired
those present to pray for the King, Queen, Prince and Princess. The
ordinary executioner being absent, a “blundering garçonneau” performed
the office, who hacked her head and shoulders to pieces.[233]
There is no trace in the public records of the immediate effect produced
on Mary by these frightful occurrences, except that Chapuys reports to the
Emperor that “the Princess has been very ill, and in some danger of her life,
but thanks to God she is beginning to recover, and there is a hope that

owing to the good diet prescribed by her physicians, and the great care her
father, and her own servants take of her, she will soon recover completely”.
She knew by experience, how slight a remark would suffice to place her
own head in jeopardy, and acutely as she would feel the awful fate of her
best friends, especially that of one to whom she owed next to her mother all
her early training in that “virtue and goodness” of which even her father
was proud, she dared not give utterance to the least word of sorrow, or even
show a mournful countenance lest she should excite his wrath. When the
strain became too great, the nervous tension ended in a complete break-
down that must have been a relief. When we consider that even thoughts,
sympathies and friendships were interpreted high-treason by this “western
Turk,” and that Mary’s mental attitude was well-known to him, her hair-
breadth escapes partake of the marvellous. In spite of her yielding to his
every demand, he knew full well that his daughter had never given an
interior consent to his new laws, and that in the eyes of Europe, he was on
account of those same laws an object of derision. The only way in which he
could claim respect for himself and for them was by becoming a terror.
There is no doubt that Mary was still of value to him in playing off one of
his allies against another, but at any moment it might suit his policy better
to behead her, than to pretend to dispose of her in marriage. Cromwell, it is
true, seemed to be her friend, but in the past, he had been the origin of her
troubles, and it was evident to all, that his friendship would be as chaff
before the wind, if she stood between him and the attainment of his
purpose. It has been more than once pointed out by biographers of
Cromwell, that he was not unnecessarily cruel, that he never sent any to the
block from private passion, that he took no delight in bloodshed for its own
sake. Neither was he accessible to any feeling of generosity or pity. All the
thews and sinews of his make were of iron; humanity he esteemed a
weakness, and altogether beside his one absorbing study of the
advancement of self, by ministering to the greed, vanity and caprice of his
master. He at last came to understand Henry’s character better than his own,
and could have foretold the doom that awaited him, if he had been able to
estimate the extent of his own capacity to satisfy the tyrant.
But for her tact and judgment, cultivated by Chapuys, Mary must
inevitably, like innumerable others, even after her supreme sacrifice, have
been crushed between these two millstones.

Henry had concluded the negotiations for his marriage with Anne of
Cleves, in the autumn of 1539, and the lady arrived in England before the
end of the year. But the subject of Mary’s union with Anne’s brother having
now been dropped, another aspirant to her hand appeared on the scene. This
was Philip, Duke of Bavaria, nephew of the Count Palatine, whose wooing
was surrounded with some little romance. The preliminaries for this
proposed marriage went farther, and gave more promise of fulfilment than
any of the various plans for the disposal of the Princess since her childhood.
The object of Duke Philip’s visit to England was at first kept secret,
although Marillac, the shrewd ambassador of Francis I., was not long in
discovering it. “There is a talk,” he wrote to Montmorency, “of the marriage
of this King’s eldest daughter with the young Duke of the house of Bavaria,
but there seems no appearance of it, except that he will not give her to a
powerful prince, lest he should afterwards raise some claim to this
crown.”[234]
Sir Thomas Wriothesley was sent to Hertford Castle, where Mary was
then residing, to announce to her this new proposal. It does not appear
whether she had any warning of his errand, Chapuys being then absent from
England, and although her agreement to whatever marriage Henry might
decide on for her was a foregone conclusion, Wriothesley’s account of the
interview and her own answer to Cromwell are interesting documents.
Wriothesley wrote as follows:—
“Pleaseth your Lordship to understand, that arriving here at Hertford castle this
afternoon about two of the clock, upon knowledge given of my coming and desire to speak
with my Lady Mary’s Grace, I had immediately access to the same, to whom after the
delivery of the King’s Majestie’s token, with his Grace’s most hearty commendations, I
opened the cause and purpose of my coming, in as good sort as my poor witt had
conceived the same. Whereunto she made me answer, that albeit the matter were towards
her of great importance, and besides of such sort and nature, as the King’s Majestie not
offended, she would wish and desire never to enter that kind of religion, but to continue
still a maid during her life: yet remembering how by the laws of God and nature she was
bound to be in this, and all other things obedient to the King’s Highness, and how by her
own bond and obligation she had heretofore of her free will, according to her said bond and
duty, obliged herself to the same, tho she might by frailty be induced in this so weighty a
thing to cast many doubts, and to take great stay with herself: yet wholly and entirely
without qualification, she committed herself to his Majestie, as to her most benign and
mercifull father and most gracious Soveraign Lord; trusting and assuredly knowing, that
his goodness and wisdom would so provide in all things for her, as should much exceed her
simple capacity, and redound to his Grace’s honour and her quiet; which thing she will this
night write with her Grace’s own hand, to be sent by me to-morrow at my return. I assure

your Lordship, here can no more be desired, than with all humility and obedience is
offered. And because I must tarry all night for these letters, I thought meet to signifie how
farr I had proceeded, to the intent, the King’s Majestie knowing the same, may further in
all things determine, as to his Grace’s high wisdom shall be thought meet and expedient.
“When I had done with her Grace, I went then to my Lady Elizabeth’s Grace, and to the
same made the King’s Majestie’s most hearty commendations, declaring that his Highness
desired to hear of her health, and sent her his blessing. She gave humble thanks, enquiring
again of his Majestie’s welfare, and that with as great a gravitie as she had been 40 years
old. If she be no worse educated than she now appeareth to me, she will prove of no less
honor and womanhood than shall beseem her father’s daughter; whom our Lord long
preserve unto us, and send your Lordship also long life many years to serve the same.
“From Hartford Castle this Wednesday the seventeenth of December.
“Your lordship’s bounden beadsman,

“Thomas Wriothesley.”[235]

It is to be regretted that Mary’s letter to her father on this occasion has
been lost, but to Cromwell she wrote as follows:—
“My Lord,
“After my most hearty commendations, I do in semblable manner thank you for your
gentle and friendly letters. How I have proceeded, touching the counsel of the same for the
matter declared by Mr. Wriothesley, because both by his relation and by my letters, to the
King’s Majesty you shall perceive, I shall not trouble you with my vain words in writing:
only this I will add, that howsoever I am in this kind of thing affected, his Highness in this,
and all other things during my life shall find me his most humble and obedient daughter,
subject and servant; and so I beseech you ever to say and answer for me. I shall not, God
willing, disapprove your saying in the same, while the breath shall be in my body; as
knows our Lord, who send you health.
“From Hertford Castle, the 17th of December, late at night. I beseech your lordship to
pardon me that I write not this letter of mine own hand. I was something weary with the
writing of the other letter, and upon trust of your goodness, I caused one of my men in this
to supply the place of a secretary.
“Your assured loving friend during my life,

“Marye.”[236]

Henry’s sole object in this negotiation appears to have been to hoodwink
the Emperor into a belief that he was again throwing himself on the side of
the German Princes, and to secure this, he allowed matters to go further
towards a conclusion than he had ever before suffered them to go. With a
great pretence of secrecy, he took care that the French and Imperial
ambassadors should know all about the affair. Marillac wrote on the 27th
December, to say that the news he communicated to Montmorency on the

24th was confirmed “touching the marriage of the lady Mary with the Duke
of Bavaria, who three or four days ago, as secretly as he could, went to visit
her in a house of the Abbot of Westminster, in the gardens of the Abbey, a
mile from this town, whither she had been brought. After having kissed her,
which is an argument either of marriage or of near relationship, seeing that
since the death of the late marquis, no lord of this kingdom has dared to go
so far, the said Duke had a long conversation with her, partly in German,
through an interpretator, and partly in Latin, of which she is not ignorant.
Finally, they mutually declared, the said lord his resolution, taken with this
King, to have her for wife, ‘pourveu que sa personne luy feust agréable,’
and the said lady her willingness to obey her father. He cannot say when the
marriage will come off, but some think in fifteen or twenty days; others that
the weddings of father and daughter will be on the same day, that is, as soon
as the lady, who is at Calais arrives. She is only detained by the wind,
which yesterday was not contrary.”[237]
The Duke presented his supposed fiancée with a cross of diamonds set
with four pearls, and one great pearl pendant,[238] and there the matter
ended for the moment. Anne of Cleves had landed at Deal, and Henry was
taken up with the subject of his own marriage.
A letter in the Record Office from Henry VIII. to some person unnamed,
commands him to prepare himself “and all other things meet and
convenient, to bring unto us our entirely beloved daughters, the ladies Mary
and Elizabeth, in such honourable sort as you can”. They were among the
foremost to receive their father’s bride, and took part in the wedding
festivities. These were however clouded by the royal bridegroom’s
disappointment on seeing the lady. Reports of her beauty, and also of her
want of beauty have been greatly exaggerated. Henry remarked to
Cromwell that she was “nothing so fair as she had been reported,” that she
was ”well and seemly, but nothing else”.[239] The wedding took place on the
feast of the Epiphany, 1540, with marked reluctance on Henry’s part. He
afterwards said that he would never have married her, “but for fear of
making a ruffle in the world, and of driving her brother into the hands of the
Emperor and the French King”.[240] But his discontent was kept secret for a
time, although the day after his marriage he pointedly asked Cromwell,
“What remedy?” Cromwell said he knew of none, and hoped for the best.

He had been more facile in the case of Queen Katharine and of Anne
Boleyn, but his ingenuity seemed to have forsaken him at the moment when
it might have saved him from ruin. His fall was as swift and as unforeseen
by himself, as that of any of the victims of his policy.
On the 11th June, the French ambassador wrote to Francis I.: “I have just
been informed that Master Thomas Cramvel Keeper of the Privy Seal of
this King, and his Vicar General in things spiritual, who since the death of
the Cardinal had the principal management of the affairs of this kingdom
and had lately been made Grand Chamberlain, was an hour ago led prisoner
to the Tower of London, and all his goods seized and confiscated. Although
this might be thought a private matter and of little importance, inasmuch as
they have but reduced a personage thus to the condition from which they
raised him, treating him only as they all say he deserved, nevertheless,
considering the consequence of the matter, ... especially as regards the
innovations in religion, of which the said Cramvel had been the principal
author, the news seems to me of so much importance, that it ought to be
communicated forthwith.” Later on he adds:—
“Sire, as I was on the point of closing this letter, a gentleman of the Court
came to me from the King his master to tell me not to be surprised that
Cramvel had been sent to the Tower, and that as the common, ignorant
people as usual spoke of it variously, and in such a manner as to mislead
one, I might think and write accordingly, he wished me to know the truth,
and the reason why he had taken him all invested in authority as he was”.
He goes on to say that the King, according to his own statement, wished to
settle religious matters in England on a Catholic basis, and was opposed by
Cromwell, who was in league with the German Lutherans, and working
against his master and the Acts of Parliament; that he had betrayed himself,
and said that he hoped to do away with the old preachers, so that the new
ones would be listened to, adding that “the affair would soon be brought to
such a pass, that the King with all his power would not be able to prevent it,
but that his own party would be so strong that he would make the King
descend to the new doctrines, even if he had to take arms against him, in
which case, he reckoned that he would not be inferior but rather superior in
power, and able to establish that which he had long proposed to do”.[241]

This was Henry’s version of his minister’s disgrace, and there was,
beyond doubt, an element of truth in it, but the immediate irritating cause of
Henry’s displeasure was, as we shall presently see, Cromwell’s guilt in
providing him with a wife whom he disliked, and his inability to release
him from a bond, for the forming of which he was mainly responsible.
Meanwhile, Marillac gives an interesting description of Cromwell’s arrest:
—
“To begin with the day of his taking, in the Council Chamber of this
King’s house at Westminster—as soon as the Lieutenant of the Tower
declared the charge he had received from the King, to take him prisoner, the
said Cramvel, moved with indignation, took off his cap and threw it on the
ground in a rage, saying to the Duke of Norfolk, and others of the Privy
Council there assembled, that this then was the reward of his good services
towards the King, and that he appealed to their consciences as to whether he
was a traitor; but as he was treated thus, he renounced all the mercy and
pardon that might be done to him, as one who never thought to have
offended, and that all he asked of the King his master, if he had such an
opinion of him was, not to let him languish long. Thereupon, some said he
was a traitor, others that it was meet he should be judged by the laws he had
himself made, which were so bloody, that often words which had been
spoken inadvertently, with a good intention, he had constituted high treason.
The Duke of Norfolk, having reproached him with some villanies done by
him, snatched off the order of St. George, which he wore round his neck,
and the Admiral, to show himself as great an enemy in adversity, as he had
been thought a friend in prosperity, untied the Garter. Then by a door which
opens upon the water, he was put into a boat, and taken to the Tower,
without the people of this city suspecting it, until they saw all the King’s
archers under Mr. Cheyney at the door of the prisoner’s house, where they
made an inventory of his goods, which were not of such value as it was
thought, although too much for a fellow of his cloth. The money was £7,000
sterling, equal to 28,000 crowns of our currency, and the silver plate,
including crosses, chalices, mitres, vases and other spoils of the Church,
might amount to rather more. These moveables were taken before night to
the King’s treasury, which is a sign that they will not be restored. The next
day, were found several letters which he had written to, or received from the
German lords who adhered to the doctrines of Luther. I have not been able

to learn their contents, except that this King was so embittered against the
said Cramvel, that he will no longer hear him spoken of, but desires as soon
as possible to abolish all memory of him, as the meanest wretch ever born
in England. To begin, this King at once distributed all his offices as it
pleased him, and had it proclaimed that no one should call him Lord Privy
Seal or by any other title of estate, but only Thomas Cramvel, Shearman,
depriving him of all his privileges and prerogatives of nobility, which he
had before given him, dividing his less valuable effects among the servants
of the prisoner, who were commanded no longer to wear their master’s
livery. Wherefore it is inferred, Sire, that the said Cramvel will not be
judged according to the solemnity used to the great of this country, nor
beheaded as they are, but will be dragged along like an ignoble person, and
afterwards hanged and quartered. A few days will show, especially as they
have resolved to empty the Tower at this Parliament, which finishes with
this month.”[242]
Cromwell’s tone of indignation, real or pretended, changed to one of the
humblest entreaty for mercy as soon as he was lodged in the Tower. His
letters to the King were contemptible. Henry replied to them by ordering
him to write an account of all he knew about his marriage with Anne of
Cleves, and having had ample experience of his ex-minister’s complaisance
in his matrimonial affairs, he was justified in thinking that Cromwell would
not stick at trifles now. The result was a detailed story of the whole matter,
with the very words that had passed between himself and the King, the day
after the marriage, most of which is unfit to print.[243] But nothing that he
could write or say availed to save him; the axe that he had so long held over
the heads of the nation fell at last on his own head, the only favour granted
to him being the manner of his death, for he had been condemned to be
hanged. According to the proceedings which he had himself instituted, he
was attainted in Parliament in his absence, and convicted without a hearing.
Hated by every member of the Council, feared throughout the realm,
disliked and suspected abroad, he was regretted by none. Cranmer who had
been his only friend, styling him, “Mine own entirely beloved Cromwell,”
did as he had done on Anne Boleyn’s arrest, and wrote to Henry that he
stood amazed and grieved, but was glad as a loyal subject, that Cromwell’s
treasons had been discovered![244]

The nation once more breathed freely, and even on the continent
considerable relief was felt. The Constable of France said that “every honest
man was much bound to God and Henry, that Christendom should be
dispatched of such a ribald who thought to have my lady Mary in
marriage”; and the Portuguese ambassador in France was heard to say that
Henry was like to have made Cromwell a duke, and then have given him his
daughter, as he had given his sister to the Duke of Suffolk, and that
therefore Cromwell did his best to break every marriage proposed for her.
He swore he could not remember who first told him, “but the bruit was
common among ambassadors two years past”.[245]
Meanwhile, the new Queen had been sent to Richmond, ostensibly to be
out of reach of the plague, and it was given out that Henry would follow her
there in a few days. But proceedings for a divorce had been already
instituted in Parliament, and in an incredibly short space of time her
marriage with the King was declared null, by reason of her pre-contract
with the son of the Duke of Lorraine. She was endowed with lands, to the
value of £4,000 annually, with two houses to live in, one at Richmond, the
other at Bletchingly.
With this arrangement Anne was perfectly content. She expressed her
willingness to be divorced, and had desired the Duke of Cleves’ messenger
“to commend her to her brother and say she was merry and well entreated.
This she did with such alacrity and pleasant gesture, that he may well testify
that he found her not miscontented. After she had dined, she sent the King
the ring delivered unto her at their pretended marriage, desiring that it might
be broken in pieces, as a thing which she knew of no force or value.” Henry
sent her many gifts and tokens, “as his sister and none otherwise,” in which
capacity she was to be the first lady in the realm, next after the Queen and
the King’s children. In his letters Henry exhorts her to be “quiet and merry,”
which injunction she seems to have obeyed, without any great effort, and he
subscribes himself “Your loving brother and friend”. A douceur was
administered to the Duke of Cleves, and all parties concerned were as well
pleased and friendly as possible. After Henry’s fifth marriage, Anne was
spoken of as “the old Queen, the King’s sister”.
Whatever others said of these startling events, Mary apparently said
nothing. Not a single remark of hers is chronicled that might be an

indication of her feelings on the fall of Cromwell. He had been her greatest
foe, but had seemed in later years to befriend her, and she believed that she
owed her father’s restored favour to his intercession. Whether he really
aspired to her hand, and whether she knew of it, must remain one of the
mysteries of the reign. That he had worked with Henry on her behalf is
certain, and perhaps her fear of him was balanced by gratitude, a sentiment
which Mary alone of all the Tudors seems to have cherished. Many of her
appeals to Cromwell had been penned in charitable solicitude for servants
of her own and her mother’s, for she never forgot a service rendered, and
never hesitated to become importunate, where the welfare and comfort of
her dependants were concerned. Among a number of such appeals is one of
the year 1537, in which she desires him to have in remembrance “mine
earnest suit made unto you for mistress Coke, my mother’s old servant,
touching the farm of Rysbridge, belonging to the new college in Oxford, the
warden whereof hath neither used you nor me, as I think gently therein. And
therefore, as my sheet-anchor, next the king’s majesty, I recommend it
wholly unto you, and even so beseech our Lord to send you no worse to
fare than I would myself.”[246]
In December 1540, Henry married Katharine Howard, grand-daughter of
the Duke of Norfolk, whose reputation was already so bad, that it is
impossible to believe him to have been ignorant of it. She complained to
Henry of not being treated by Mary with the same respect as she had shown
to the two preceding Queens. An attempt was made about the same time to
remove from the Princess’s household two of her maidservants, a petty
piece of persecution which it was thought came from the new Queen’s
hostility. Some means of conciliation was however found, and the two
maids were allowed to remain, but this was not the only trouble of the kind,
for Chapuys, writing to the Queen of Hungary, says that Mary is well in
health, “though exceedingly distressed and sad, at the death of one of her
damsels, who has actually died of grief at having been removed from her
service by the King’s order”. Nevertheless, Mary had been too well
schooled in adversity to indulge in resentment, and she sent Katharine a
New Year’s present, with which Henry was much pleased, as well as with
her present to him, and sent her messenger back to her with two
magnificent gifts from himself and the Queen. She still contrived to hold
herself aloof from the court, but the deposed Queen Anne seems to have

had no such scruple, and Marillac gives a description of her New Year’s
visit to the King and her rival, which is too amusing to be passed over. In a
letter to Francis he says:—
“Sire, to omit nothing that may be written about this country, Madame
Anne, sister of the Duke of Cleves formerly Queen of England, passed the
recent festivities at Richmond, four miles from Hampton Court, to which
place, the King and also the Queen sent her on the first day of the year rich
presents of clothes, plate and jewels, valued at six or seven thousand
crowns. And on the second day, she was summoned to appear at Hampton
Court, where she was very honourably conducted by several of the nobility,
and being arrived, this king received her very graciously as did also the
queen, with whom she remained nearly the whole afternoon. They danced
together, and seemed so happy that neither did the new queen appear to be
jealous or afraid that the other had come to raise the siege, as it was
rumoured, nor did the said lady of Cleves show any sign of discontent at
seeing her rival in her place. Moreover, Sire, if it please you to hear the end
of this farce, that evening and the next, the two ladies supped at the King’s
table together, although the lady of Cleves sat a little backward in a corner,
where the Princess of England, Madame Mary is wont to be; and the
following day, the said lady of Cleves returned with the same escort to
Richmond, where she is visited by all the personages of the court, which
makes people think that she is about to be reinstated in her former
position.”[247]
In May, Henry and Katharine went to visit Prince Edward at Mary’s
request, “but chiefly,” says Chapuys, “at the intercession of the Queen
herself”. Henry gave Mary on this occasion full permission to reside at
court, “and the Queen,” Chapuys adds, “has countenanced it with a good
grace”. Mary had therefore no choice but to spend the next few months with
her new stepmother, keeping outwardly on good terms with her, and
presenting a strange contrast to her surroundings. When at last it suited
Henry to have his eyes opened to Katharine’s outrageously loose conduct,
his indignation, or that which passed for such, knew no bounds. During her
trial, the palace at Hampton Court, where she was imprisoned, was so
strictly guarded that none but certain officers could enter or leave it. Mary
was sent away, and her father announced that he was heart-broken at the
Queen’s immorality and perfidy. Anne of Cleves was thought by Chapuys

to rejoice greatly at Katharine’s fall, but her execution caused little
comment throughout the country. Either the people were indifferent to her
fate, or they had become accustomed to the disgrace of Queens consorts.
But for Mary there seemed no escape from tragedies. The block was
never long absent from her life, which was often passed under its very
shadow. When, in May 1541, the Countess of Salisbury was beheaded,
under peculiarly aggravated circumstances, her goddaughter, on whose
behalf she indirectly suffered, might well walk in terror. The axe had never
before come so near Mary’s own head. Fear for her safety was universal.
The Emperor shared the common apprehension, and was anxious to protect
his cousin by seeming to be on especially good terms with her father.
Chapuys therefore advised him no longer to address Henry as uncle, for the
title only served to reopen old sores, and for the same reason, he thought it
better to give up the word princess in addressing Mary. The King having
now a son, it might be dropped without any loss of dignity, as it really
implied heiress to the Crown, a title to which she had no longer any right.
[248]

But the constant anxiety in which she lived, resulted, as often before, in a
serious illness. Illness however was sometimes her best friend, for when she
was in danger of death Henry would perhaps remember that she was the
idolised child of his youth, connected with his happier days, and would
hasten to show her that kindness and affection which always helped to
restore her to health. It was not until she appeared to be in extremis that he
could be roused to any degree of interest, whereas Chapuys was ever ready
with sympathy. Thus on the 7th April 1542, he says that Mary had sent to
him three or four days ago, to thank him for certain letters which he had
written to her during her illness, saying that they had acted “as a most
health-restoring cordial to her”. And he ends, “To say the truth, I did my
very best to comfort and cheer her in the midst of her ailments”. But she
was still far from recovery, and on the 22nd he writes to the Queen of
Hungary, “The Princess has not improved in health of late; on the contrary,
she has occasionally been in danger of her life. I pray and beseech God to
grant her more consolation and pleasure than she has hitherto enjoyed.”
Marillac also informed Francis of the extremely critical state in which she
lay. However, at the end of the month, Chapuys reported her convalescence,
with the news that Henry was taking great care of her, and that “with God’s

help and good diet,” it was hoped that she would shortly be well. From this
time onwards, till her father’s death, Mary’s lot improved, a fact that may
have been owing to the King’s marriage with Katharine Parr, who had a
great regard for the desolate girl. In September, we find that “the King has
just been entertaining and feasting the Princess, beyond measure, presenting
her with certain rings and jewels”. She was recalled to Hampton Court for
the Christmas festivities, and was “triumphantly attended, and accompanied
on her passage through London”. Henry received her kindly and “spoke the
most gracious and amiable words that a father could address to his
daughter”.[249] On New Year’s Day, he presented her with more rings, silver
plate and jewels, among which were two rubies of inestimable value. In the
course of the year, Chapuys tells the Emperor that “the King continues to
treat her kindly, and has made her stay with the new Queen, who behaves
affectionately towards her. As to Anne Boleyn’s daughter, the King has sent
her back to stay with the Prince his son.”
Mary and Katharine had many tastes in common, and were excellent
companions. Both were fond of study, though in an unequal degree, for to
Mary it had been her only resource and consolation, in the midst of her
fiercest trials. Friendships she had cultivated, as far as they were allowed to
her, but books had been her constant refuge, and the taste for them once
formed never forsook her. The New Learning had found in her an apt pupil,
and she had eagerly welcomed the works of Erasmus, as they flowed from
his facile and ever industrious pen. His Paraphrase on the New Testament
had been printed in the year of her birth. It formed a part of her education,
and was the basis on which her piety was founded. In later years, she
translated a portion of it—“The Paraphrase on the Gospel of St. John”—
into English. Udal gave it to the world with a translation of the whole work,
which he dedicated to Katharine Parr. In his preface he says:—
“And in this behalf, like as to your highness, most noble Queen
Catherine, for causing these paraphrases of the most famous clerk and most
godly writer, Erasmus of Rotterdam, to be translated into our vulgar
language, England can never be able to render thanks sufficient; so may it
never be able, as her deserts require, enough to praise and magnify the most
noble, the most virtuous, the most witty, and the most studious Lady Mary’s
grace, daughter of the late most puissant and victorious King Henry the
Eighth, etc., it may never be able I say, enough to praise and magnify her

grace for taking such great study, pain and travail in translating this
paraphrase of the said Erasmus upon the Gospel of St. John, at your
highness’ special contemplation, as a number of right well-learned men
both would have made courtesy at, and also would have brought to worse
frame in the doing.”
The book was published after Henry’s death, but a letter from Katharine
to Mary, and belonging to the year 1544, is interesting as showing how
much of it was really Mary’s own work, and the arguments employed by the
Queen to persuade her to acknowledge the fact of her authorship publicly.
“Although most noble and dearest Lady, there are many reasons that easily induce my
writing to you at this time, yet nothing so greatly moves me thereto as my concern for your
health, which as I hope is very good, so am I greatly desirous to be assured thereof.
Wherefore I despatch to you this messenger, who will be (I judge) most acceptable to you,
not only from his skill in music, in which you, I am well aware take as much delight as
myself, but also because having long sojourned with me, he can give the most certain
information of my whole estate and health. And in truth, I have had it in my mind before
this, to have made a journey to you, and salute you in person; but all things do not
correspond with my will. Now however, I hope this winter, and that ere long, that being
nearer, we shall meet, than which, I assure you, nothing can be to me more agreeable, and
more to my heart’s desire. Now since, as I have heard, the finishing touch (as far as
translation is concerned) is given by Mallet to Erasmus’s work upon John, and nought now
remains, but that proper care and vigilance should be taken in revising, I entreat you to
send over to me this very excellent and useful work, now amended by Mallet, or some of
your people, that it may be committed to the press in due time; and farther to signify
whether you wish it to go forth to the world (most auspiciously) under your name, or as the
production of an unknown writer. To which work you will in my opinion do a real injury, if
you refuse to let it go down to posterity under the auspices of your own name, since you
have undertaken so much labour in accurately translating it for the great good of the public,
and would have undertaken still greater (as is well known) if the health of your body had
permitted. And since all the world knows that you have toiled and laboured much in this
business, I do not see why you should repudiate that praise which all men justly confer on
you. However, I leave this whole matter to your discretion, and whatsoever resolution you
may adopt, that will meet my fullest approbation. For the purse which you have sent me as
a present, I return you great thanks. I pray God, the greatest and best of beings that He
deign to bless you uninterruptedly with true and unalloyed happiness. May you long fare
well in him.
“From Hennworth, 20th September.
“Most devotedly and lovingly yours,

“Catherine the Queen K.P.”[250]

During the remaining three years of her father’s life, Mary was allowed
to lead her own quiet, studious life in peace. She was held in very great

consideration both at home and abroad; ambassadors were instructed after
receiving their first audience of the King to visit “the most serene Queen
Katharine Parr and the most illustrious Princess, the King’s daughter”.
Negotiations for her marriage still continued, but were nothing more than
tactics of war to mislead the enemy, so long as the purpose served. Duke
Philip of Bavaria had taken leave of her in January 1540, believing that he
was soon to return and claim his bride. The Emperor considered the matter
settled, and deep sympathy was felt for her at his court in Brussels.
Granvelle thought, however, that the marriage must be suffered, provided
she was made to consent to nothing against her religion, and he sent over
yet another form of protestation to be used at the ceremony. In England it
was even reported that she was already married to the Duke; and all these
various comments were exactly what Henry wished to call forth, without
pledging himself irrevocably, or having the least intention of concluding the
treaty. While Mary was sadly resigned to her fate, and all Europe was
pitying her, Henry was merely trifling with the German Protestants for
political reasons. But the trifling was of a very solemn sort, and as late as
1546, a treaty was drawn up but never signed, between the Duke of Bavaria
and the Lady Mary, in which it was provided that “the Duke shall transport
the Lady within three months, the King to give the Duke 12,000 florins, in
hands towards her transporting”.[251] It was also enacted that her dowry was
to consist of 40,000 florins in gold, 20,000 to be paid on the day of her
marriage, the rest at Frankfort a year later.
But yet another aspirant, the Duke of Holstein, came forward, and Henry
played him off against Duke Philip, as he had played Philip off against the
Emperor and Francis I., and his son, without of course any definite result.
At the age of twenty-eight Mary was still admired, although bad health,
and trouble of mind had left their marks on a face, the beauty of which had
been praised in such lavish terms. In 1544 the secretary of the Duke of
Najera merely said of her, “The Princess Mary has a pleasing countenance
and person. The dress she wore was a petticoat of cloth of gold and gown of
violet-coloured three-piled velvet, with a head-dress of many rich stones.”
It was in this year that she sat to the now unknown painter, for the portrait
which has passed into the National Portrait Gallery. The somewhat hard
outlines of the picture betoken a hand far less skilful than that of Holbein,

who painted her earlier, or that of Sir Antonio More and Lucas Van Heere,
who painted her later portraits. It will be observed that the style of dress
resembles that of the more pleasing Oxford portrait, which must have been
executed about the same time.
Henry’s various machinations were cut short by death, and Mary’s
troubles were henceforth to take an entirely different form.

Walker & Cockerell, Photographers, London.

THE PRINCESS MARY AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-EIGHT.
From the original painting in the National Portrait Gallery.

FOOTNOTES:
[218] Francis told Marillac, his ambassador in England, that as the Dauphin had
no children, it would be a great pleasure to him to see his son Orleans marry Lady
Mary of England, and he was to inquire of her physician whether all she had
suffered would not prevent her bearing children (Gairdner, Cal., xvi., 1186).
[219] Correspondance Politique de MM. de Castillon et de Marillac,
ambassadeurs de France en Angleterre, p. 349.
[220] P. 63. The Household Book of Queen Mary mentions (pp. 119, 126 and 184)
the names of Mabel and Elizabeth Sydney.
[221] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 282. Printed in Letters of Royal and Illustrious
Ladies, by M. A. E. Wood (afterwards Green), vol. iii., p. 13.
[222] Smith MS. lxviii., f. 15, Bodleian Library. Printed in Letters of Royal and
Illustrious Ladies, vol. iii., p. 15.
[223] Don Diego and Chapuys to Charles V., 31st August 1538, Vienna Archives.
[224] Gairdner, Cal., xiii., pt. i., 647.
[225] Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 465, Brit. Mus.
[226] Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 277, Brit. Mus. Printed in Hearne’s Sylloge, 135.
[227] Cromwell’s Memorial of Instructions to his friend Christopher Mount.
Cotton MS. Vit. B. xxi., f. 159, Brit. Mus.
[228] Cotton MS. Vit. B. xxi., f. 86, 18th March 1539.
[229] Correspondance Politique de M. de Marillac, p. 275.
[230] Gairdner, Cal., xiv., pt. i., 980.
[231] Gairdner, Cal., xiv., pt. ii., 212.
[232] Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 489, Brit. Mus.

[233] Gairdner, Cal., xvi., 897, Chapuys to the Queen of Hungary, 10th June
1541.
[234] There is a draft of a treaty in the British Museum between Henry VIII. and
Philip Count Palatine, and Duke of Bavaria, for a marriage between him and the
Lady Mary. In this treaty she is declared incapable by the laws and statutes of the
realm of claiming any succession or title by right of inheritance.
[235] Smith MS. xlvii., fol. 31-2. Hearne’s Sylloge, p. 149.
[236] Smith MS. lxviii., fol. 17. Printed in Letters of Royal and Illustrious Ladies,
vol. iii., p. 89.
[237] Correspondance Politique, p. 148.
[238] Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary, p. 176.
[239] Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 409.
[240] Cromwell to Henry VIII., Hatfield MS.
[241] Correspondance Politique de Castillon et de Marillac, p. 189.
[242] Correspondance Politique de Castillon et de Marillac, p. 193.
[243] The whole account is to be found in Gairdner’s Calendar of State Papers of
the year 1540.
[244] Cranmer’s Works, p. 401.
[245] Wallop and Carne to Henry VIII., State Papers, viii., 376 and 387, Record
Office.
[246] Cotton MS. Vesp. F. xiii., art. 223, fol. 202. Printed in Letters of Royal and
Illustrious Ladies, vol. ii., p. 320.
[247] Correspondance Politique, p. 258.
[248] Gayangos, Cal., vol. vi., pt. ii., p. 16.
[249] Gayangos, Cal., vol. vi., pt. ii., p. 190.
[250] Cotton MS. Vesp. F. iii., art. 35, fol. 29.
[251] State Papers, Henry VIII., box CC., i., Record Office.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE KING’S SISTER.
1547-1553.
At the time of her father’s death, Mary was thirty-one years old. Her
youth had passed away amid storms such as few women are called upon to
weather, and they had left their traces on her character no less than on the
brilliant beauty for which she had been famed throughout Europe. The
slightly mutine expression, which we notice in Holbein’s fascinating
portrait, had changed into a thoughtful, self-contained and rather sad look.
She had acquired a thorough knowledge of the world, of men’s foibles,
ambitions, passions and intrigues, and thus came well-equipped and
undismayed into the new struggle that awaited her with her brother’s Privy
Council. In spite of her many friends (for her popularity had increased
rather than diminished) she was necessarily somewhat isolated in her
exalted position, and her enemies were powerful.
By the terms of her father’s will she was now the first lady in the land,
being placed in the line of succession, as was her right, immediately after
Edward, in default of male heirs of his body. Projects were formed for her
marriage with the Duke of Ferrara, with the King of Poland, with Albert
Marquis of Brandenburg, and with Don Loys of Portugal, who was again
put forward as a suitable husband, but the Council were not more eager to
send her out of the country than Henry had been.
So far as Edward was allowed to entertain any warmth of affection, he
was, it may be said, sincerely attached to both his sisters, but he was
entirely a puppet in the hands of his uncles the Seymours. He was nine
years old at the time of his accession, and but for them might have regarded
Mary something in the light of a mother. She was in fact his godmother, and
had watched over him as well as circumstances would allow, from his birth,
but those who surrounded him were careful that her interest in her young
brother should not assume a more definite shape than the bestowal of
countless presents, and the constant providing of juvenile amusements. One

of his letters to her shortly before his father’s death contains a pretty
passage: “Amo te, sicut frater debet amare charissimam sororem, quæ habet
omnia ornamenta virtutis et honestatis in se”.[252] In May 1546, he told her
that God had given her the wisdom of Esther, and that he looked up to her
virtues with admiration.[253] But scarcely was he on the throne, when his
uncles made him the mouthpiece of the narrow Puritan views to which they
were committed, and we find him writing to Katharine Parr, to entreat her
“to preserve his dear sister Mary from the enchantments of the Evil One, by
beseeching her to attend no longer to foreign dances and merriments, which
do not become a Christian princess”. When left to himself, however, he
showed her simple, child-like affection.[254] The rapid decline of Henry’s
health had been a signal to the Seymours to seize what extra power they
could. They even went so far as to amend the King’s will, a few days before
his death, conferring on themselves more authority than had been already
decreed. Henry had refused to sign the amendment, but they, disguising the
fact that it did not bear the royal sign manual, carried matters with so high a
hand that their powers were taken for granted. The supreme authority had
originally been vested in sixteen executors, but the two Seymours claimed
the entire guardianship of the boy-king. Henry had had little regard for his
brothers-in-law. He knew them to be ambitious, and had been sparing of his
favours towards them. He suspected them moreover of a secret fondness for
the new doctrines, to which he was again strenuously opposed, but as there
was no kinsman of the blood royal to whom he could confide his son, he
was obliged to accept the inevitable.
Thomas and Edward Seymour were at Henry’s death, the one a simple
knight, the other Earl of Hertford and Lord Chamberlain. Not content with
these mediocre honours, they at once busied themselves with their own
advancement. Hertford caused himself to be created Duke of Somerset,
while Sir Thomas was made Lord Seymour of Sudley. Besides this, the
latter coveted the patent of High Admiral, held by the Earl of Warwick, and
as with the Seymours to covet was to have, Warwick was obliged to resign
the patent in his favour. Neither of the brothers was sensitive in regard to
the outspoken criticism of the other members of the Council, who suggested
that it would have been well to await the King’s majority, to be rewarded
according to their merits; and in spite of murmurs of dissatisfaction the new
Duke of Somerset had himself proclaimed Protector, and procured letters

patent under the Great Seal, conferring on his person the whole authority of
the Crown.
The ambition of Admiral Seymour had, it is said, further led him to
solicit the hand of Elizabeth, immediately after her father’s death,[255] and,
meeting with a rebuff, he at once offered himself to the widowed Queen,
greatly to the indignation of Henry’s daughters when the fact became
known to them. The indecency of the proceeding could scarcely have been
more accentuated, for as soon as Henry’s body was laid in the tomb, the
Admiral was secretly married to Katharine Parr.
Henry died on the 28th January, and an undated letter from Katharine to
the Admiral, bearing intrinsic evidence that she was his wife when she
wrote it, also contains irrefragable proof that it could not have been written
later than the middle of February next following.[256] Thus the marriage was
an accomplished fact weeks before his appeal to Edward for permission to
marry his stepmother. To marry a queen dowager, without the royal consent
was a misdemeanour involving fine and imprisonment, and he therefore by
means of flattery, and by supplying the boy secretly with large sums of
money, so wormed himself into his favour, that Edward being made aware
of his uncle’s wishes, affectionately urged him to marry Katharine, and
afterwards thanked him for doing so. It is probable that Henry’s children
never knew the extent to which they had been deceived, although in the
subsequent indictment of Seymour, one of the charges brought against him
was, that he had married the Queen Dowager so quickly after the King’s
death, that if she had had a child within the next nine months, disputes
might well have arisen regarding the succession.
There had been little difficulty in gaining Edward’s consent, but it was no
such plain sailing to win Mary’s good-will towards the marriage. In spite of
all she had suffered at her father’s hands, Mary was astonishingly devout to
his memory, and her letter in answer to the Admiral’s hypocritical pleading
that she would intercede with the Queen in his behalf, when he had already
been married to her for months, is dignified and sensible.
“My Lord,
“After my hearty commendations, these shall be to declare that according to your
accustomed gentleness, I have received six warrants from you by your servant this bearer,
for the which, I do give you my hearty thanks, by whom also I have received your letter

wherein (as me thinketh) I perceive strange news, concerning a suit you have in hand to the
Queen for marriage, for the sooner obtaining whereof, you seem to think that my letters
might do you pleasure. My lord, in this case I trust your wisdom doth consider that if it
were for my nearest kinsman and dearest friend on live, of all other creatures in the world,
it standeth least with my poor honour to be a meddler in this matter, considering whose
wife her grace was of late, and besides that if she be minded to grant your suit, my letters
shall do you but small pleasure. On the other side, if the remembrance of the King’s
Majesty my father (whose soul God pardon) will not suffer her to grant your suit, I am
nothing able to persuade her to forget the loss of him, who is as yet very ripe in mine own
remembrance. Wherefore I shall most earnestly require you (the premisses considered) to
think none unkindness in me, though I refuse to be a meddler any ways in this matter,
assuring you, that (wooing matters set apart, wherein I being a maid am nothing cunning) if
otherwise it shall lie in my little power to do you pleasure, I shall be as glad to do it as you
to require it, both for his blood’s sake that you be of, and also for the gentleness which I
have always found in you. As knoweth Almighty God, to whose tuition I commit you.
“From Wanstead, this Saturday at night, being the 4th June.
“Your assured friend to my power,

“Marye.”[257]

The marriage was concealed till the end of June, when it was supposed to
have taken place at Edward’s request. Elizabeth’s indignation, real or
feigned, was thus expressed in a letter to Mary:—
“Princess, and very dear Sister,
“You are very right in saying, in your most acceptable letters which you have done me
the honour of writing to me, that our interests being common, the just grief we feel in
seeing the ashes, or rather the scarcely cold body of the King our father so shamefully
dishonored by the Queen our stepmother, ought to be common to us also. I cannot express
to you, my dear Princess, how much affliction I suffered when I was first informed of this
marriage, and no other comfort can I find, than that of the necessity of submitting ourselves

to the decrees of heaven; since neither you nor I, dearest sister, are in such a condition as to
offer any obstacle thereto, without running heavy risk of making our own lot much worse
than it is, at least so I think. We have to deal with too powerful a party who have got all
authority into their hands, while we, deprived of power cut a very poor figure at court. I
think then, that the best course we can take is that of dissimulation, that the mortification
may fall upon those who commit the fault. For we may rest assured that the memory of the
King our father, being so glorious in itself, cannot be subject to these stains which can only
defile the persons who have wrought them. Let us console ourselves by making the best of
what we cannot remedy. If our silence does us no honour, at least it will not draw down
upon us such disasters as our lamentations might induce. These are my sentiments, which
the little reason I have dictates, and which guides my respectful reply to your agreeable
letter. With regard to the returning of visits, I do not see that you who are the elder are
obliged to this; but the position in which I stand obliges me to take other measures, the
Queen having shown me so great affection, and done me so many kind offices, that I must
use much tact in manœuvring with her, for fear of appearing ungrateful for her benefits. I
shall not however, be in any hurry to visit her, lest I should be charged with approving
what I ought to censure. However I shall always pay much deference to your instructions
and commands, in all which you shall think convenient or serviceable to you, as being your
highness’s,” etc., etc.[258]

Although we have no authority but Leti, for the authenticity of this letter,
a remarkable production for a girl of thirteen, it cannot be denied that there
is a striking resemblance between the shrewdness displayed therein, and the
clever fencing in which Elizabeth afterwards so greatly excelled. Before
long, the writer was an inmate of the Queen’s household, and an adept in
that “dissimulation” which she recommended to Mary. The Admiral,
already repenting his hasty marriage, was carrying on an intrigue with
Elizabeth, whom Katharine one day surprised in his arms; and there were
rumours of still greater familiarities. The unhappy Queen died soon after in
childbed, and an inquiry into the nature of Elizabeth’s relations with the
Admiral revealed a sink of depravity and corruption. But self-defence was
an art in which Elizabeth excelled, and in the characteristic words of Mrs.
Ashley, her governess, “She would not cough out more matter than it suited
her purpose to confess”.[259]
Meanwhile, so great was the enmity between the Protector and his
brother, each seeking to supplant the other with the King, that Edward could
scarcely be expected to retain a spark of natural affection for either.
Somerset, bent on the Admiral’s ruin, accused him of a design for upsetting
the Government, and caused him to be attainted for high treason, without
bringing the least particle of real evidence against him. There is something
repulsive in the succinct manner in which the whole affair of his uncle’s

attainder and execution is disposed of in the young King’s Journal: “Also
the Lord Sudley, Admiral of England was condemned to death, and died in
the March ensuing”.[260]
But these were days when human life was held cheap, and not only did
Somerset sign the warrant for his brother’s execution, but Cranmer, who, as
a Churchman, was prohibited by Canon law from all participation in
judgments of blood, did not refrain from setting his sign manual to the deed.
[261]
Latimer preached the funeral sermon, which, in his anxiety to curry
favour with the Council, became a further indictment. “Whether he be
saved or no, I leave it to God,” said the Bishop of Worcester, “but surely he
was a wicked man, and the realm is well rid of him.”[262]
The Protector did not long enjoy his triumph over his brother. His
assumption of the supreme power in the State was an eyesore to others
besides the Admiral. The Earl of Warwick soon proved a redoubtable
adversary and rival in the Council, and accused him of arbitrary and
tyrannical abuse of his authority.
Edward, who sometimes smarted under the despotic control of his uncle,
was not unwilling to be released therefrom, and was easily persuaded to
sign a writ for his committal to the Tower. The arrest of the most powerful
advocate of the new doctrines appeared to the reformers to threaten the
existence of all that they had worked for with so much success, and it was
felt that the decisive moment had arrived, for striking a final blow for the
total abolition of the old faith.
Henry’s last years had been marked by a strong reaction in its favour.
This reaction had set in with Cromwell’s waning influence, had not a little
to do with the Chief Secretary’s disgrace, and had continued till his own
death, at which time he was more Catholic than he had ever been since his
youth. In his anxiety to guard against the introduction of Genevan heresies
into England, he revived the statute against Lollardy, and the Protestants
were burned for propagating the new opinions. Stringent measures were
adopted to prevent the importation of books concerning religion from the
continent, and in his last will, Henry put his belief in the Mass on record, by
ordering that it should be offered daily, “perpetually while the world shall
endure,” for the repose of his soul. Edward VI. had been crowned according

to ancient Catholic rites, so far as the religious part of the ceremonies was
concerned, although several departures from precedent were made as
regarded the administration of the oath. High Mass concluded the
ceremony. But in two years, vast changes had come about, mainly through
Somerset’s influence, and a circular letter had been sent to the clergy,
informing them of the King’s intention to proceed with the reformation of
the Church of England. They were commanded to deliver up all books
containing any portion of the service of the Mass, that such might be burnt,
or destroyed publicly. An act was passed ordering that “all books, manuals,
legends, pics, grailes, primers in Latin and English, journals, ordinals or
other books or writings whatsoever, heretofore used for service of the
Church, written or printed in the English or Latin tongue, other than such as
shall be set forth of the King’s Majesty, shall be by authority of this present
act, clearly and utterly abolished, extinguished and forbidden for ever to be
used or kept in this realm, or elsewhere within any of the King’s
dominions”.[263]
It was further enacted, that all images already taken out of the churches
and chapels should be utterly defaced and destroyed by the mayor, bailiff,
constable or churchwardens within three months, under the penalty of ten
shillings for the first default, four pounds for the second, and imprisonment
during the King’s pleasure for the third.[264]
Those bishops who resisted the new laws were sent to the Tower, among
them were Heath, Day and Gardiner, who denounced as illegal all
ecclesiastical changes made during the King’s minority. Cranmer had long
since joined the Protestant party, and it was observed in 1549 that “this year
the Archbishop of Canterbury did eat meat openly in Lent in the hall of
Lambeth, the like of which was never seen since England was a christian
country”. But the proceedings of the Council were marked by singular
inconsistency, for although most of the changes tended towards a shaking
off of old beliefs, freedom of conscience was by no means allowed. The
statute De Heresia was again called into play, and a woman was tried,
condemned and burned for denying the Incarnation of our Lord. On the 2nd
May 1549, Edward wrote in his Diary, “Joan Bocher, otherwise called Joan
of Kent, was burnt for holding that Christ was not incarnate of the Virgin
Mary, being condemned the year before, but kept in hope of conversion,
and the 30 of April, the bishop of London, and the bishop of Ely were to

persuade her. But she withstood them, and reviled the preacher that
preached at her death.” The three bishops, Hooper, Latimer and Ridley
followed Cranmer’s lead, and distinguished themselves in the cause of the
Reformation.[265] But the people rose in protest, a revolt that was
everywhere stamped out in blood. Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer
superseded the Missal and Breviary, and an order of the Privy Council
provided that from thenceforth, “no printer should print or put into vent any
English book but such as should first be examined by Mr. Secretary Petre,
Mr. Secretary Smith, and Mr. Cecil, or the one of them, and allowed by the
same, under pain of imprisonment”.[266]
The triumph of the Reformation all along the line was celebrated by the
pardon and release of Somerset, on his subscribing a document consisting
of twenty-nine charges brought against him, in which he was made to
confess his presumption, negligence and incapacity.
During this time, Mary was living, for the most part, in great retirement,
at her favourite residence, Beaulieu (New Hall) in Essex, rarely appearing
at court, and hoping that by attracting little attention she might be able to
practise her religion unmolested. The Mass, although abolished by Act of
Parliament, and celebrated only at the risk of pains and penalties, was still
said openly in her house. The Statute of Uniformity by which heavy
penalties were inflicted on all priests saying Mass, and on every individual
who should be found present at Mass, was a formidable weapon in
Somerset’s hands. The Protector summoned Mary, in his capacity as head of
the Council, to embrace the new form of worship. Her answer was a spirited
protest:—
“It is no small grief to me to perceive that they whom the King’s Majesty
my father (whose soul God pardon) made in this world of nothing, in
respect of that they be come to now, and at this last end, put in trust to see
his will performed, whereunto they were all sworn upon a book (it grieveth
me I say) for that love I bear to them, to see both how they break his will,
what usurped power they take upon them, in making (as they call it) laws,
clean contrary to his proceedings and will, and also against the custom of
all Christendom, and in my conscience, against the law of God and his
Church, which passeth all the rest. But though you among you have
forgotten the King my father, yet both God’s commandment and nature will

not suffer me to do so, wherefore with God’s help, I will remain an obedient
child to his laws as he left them, till such time as the King’s Majesty, my
brother shall have perfect years of discretion, to order the power that God
hath sent him, to be a judge in these matters himself, and I doubt not, he
shall then accept my so doing better than theirs, who have taken a piece of
his power upon them in his minority.”[267]
On the 22nd June 1549, she was admonished to send her chaplain and
comptroller of her household before the Council, but she replied haughtily
that she could not spare her comptroller, and that her chaplain had been
sick, that the law made by Parliament was not worth the name of a law, that
King Henry’s executors were sworn to his statutes, that her house was her
flock, and that she deferred in obedience to King Edward’s laws, till his
Majesty were of sufficient years, all of which of course gave great offence.
Nevertheless, Edward, in a letter dated August 1549, merely marvelled at
his sister’s refusal to conform to the order of Common Prayer lately set
forth, and gave a dispensation to the Princess and her household to have
private service in her own chamber.[268]
The secret of this forbearance lay in the fact that Mary had appealed to
the Emperor, who had threatened war if she were molested, and as the
country was already entangled in hostilities with France, Edward’s Council
thought it prudent to allow her temporarily to practise the old religion. But
as soon as peace was signed, and friendship with the Emperor was less
important, messengers were again sent to her, and letters from the King,
offering to supply her with teachers, who would instruct her ignorance and
refute her errors. The permission to have Mass, granted at the point of the
sword, was declared to have been limited to a few months only, and to have
included none of her servants. She was again warned “to be conformable
and obedient to the observation of his Majesty’s laws, to give order that the
Mass should be no more used in her house, and that she would embrace and
cause to be celebrated in her said house, the communion and other divine
services set forth by his Majesty”.[269]
On the 3rd February 1551, Mary thus wrote to the King:—
“My duty most humbly remembered to your Majesty, please it the same to understand,
that I have received your letters by Master Throckmorton this bearer; the contents whereof
do more trouble me than any bodily sickness, though it were even to the death; and the

rather for that your highness doth charge me to be both a breaker of your laws, and also an
encourager of others to do the like. I most humbly beseech your Majesty to think that I
never intended towards you otherwise than my duty compelleth me unto; that is to wish
your highness all honour and prosperity, for the which I do and daily shall pray. And where
as it pleaseth your Majesty to write, that I make a challenge of a promise made otherwise
than it was meant, the truth is, the promise could not be denied before your Majesty’s
presence, at my last waiting upon the same. And although I confess the ground of faith
(whereunto I take reason to be but an handmaid) and my conscience also hath and do agree
with the same, yet touching that promise, for so much as it hath pleased your Majesty (God
knoweth by whose persuasion) to write ‘it was not so meant’; I shall most humbly desire
your Highness to examine the truth thereof indifferently, and either will your Majesty’s
ambassador now being with the Emperor, to inquire of the same, if it be your pleasure to
have him move it, or else to cause it to be demanded of the Emperor’s ambassador here,
although he were not within this realm at that time....
“And albeit your Majesty (God be praised) hath at these years as much understanding
and more, than is commonly seen in that age, yet considering you do hear but one part
(your Highness not offended) I would be a suitor to the same, that till you were grown to
more perfect years, it might stand with your pleasure to stay, in matters touching the soul:
so undoubtedly should your Majesty know more, and hear others, and nevertheless be at
your liberty, and do your will and pleasure. And whatsoever your Majesty hath conceived
of me, either by letters to your council or by their report, I trust in the end to prove myself
as true to you as any subject within your realm, and will by no means stand in argument
with your Majesty, but in most humble wise beseech you even for God’s sake, to suffer me
as your Highness hath done hitherto. It is for no worldly respect I desire it, God is my
judge: but rather than to offend my conscience I would desire of God to lose all that I have,
and also my life, and nevertheless live and die your humble sister and true subject. Thus,
after pardon craved of your Majesty, for my rude and bold writing, I beseech Almighty
God to preserve the same in honour, with as long continuance of health and life as ever had
noble king. From Beaulieu the third of Feb.
“Your Majesty’s most humble and unworthy sister,

“Marye.”[270]

On the 18th March, Edward made the following entry in his Journal:—
“The Lady Mary my sister came to me at Westminster, where after
salutations, she was called with my Council into a chamber, where was
declared how long I had suffered her Mass, in hope of her reconciliation
and how now being no hope, which I perceived by her letters, except I saw
some short amendment, I could not bear it. She answered that her soul was
God’s, and her faith she would not change, nor dissemble her opinion with
contrary doings. It was said I constrained not her faith, but willed her not as
a king to rule, but as a subject to obey, and that her example might breed
too much inconvenience.”

On the 19th and 20th he added:—
“The Emperor’s ambassador came with a short message from his master,
of war if I would not suffer his cousin, the princess to use her mass. To this
was no answer given at this time. The bishops of Canterbury, London and
Rochester did consider [that] to give licence to sin was sin; to suffer and
wink at it for a time might be borne, so all haste possible might be
used.”[271]
Already the Council had written to Sir Richard Morysine, their envoy
extraordinary at the court of Charles V., to inform him that “of late the
Emperor’s ambassador has moved them that the Lady Mary might freely
retain the ancient religion in such sort as her father left it in this realm,
according to a promise made to the Emperor, till the King should be of
more years. They denied that such promise had been made, except to this
extent, that the King was content to bear with her infirmity, that she should
for a season hear the mass in her closet or privy chamber only, whereat
there should be present no more than they of her chamber, and no time
appointed, but left to the King’s pleasure. But in spite of their repeated
assurances, that no promise had been made, he would not receive their flat
denial.”[272]
But Morysine was not a persona grata with the Emperor, and the Council
sent over Dr. Wotton in the hope of propitiating him. From Augsburg, where
the imperial court was then residing, Morysine wrote to the Council saying
that he was in no better favour than any in his case would be, though the
Emperor had changed his testiness for a more gentle behaviour towards
him. But he does not desire to buy the Emperor’s love at the price at which
he holds it, and he is certain that he shall not hereafter be able to live on it.
The fault, he begs their Lordships to believe, lies in the matter and not in
him, and he continues: “Mr. Wotton hath a more mannerly nay than I had,
but even as flat a nay as mine was. The Emperor’s choler spent upon me
hath taught him to use others with more gentleness.”[273]
Wotton’s account of his interview with Charles is extremely interesting.
The Emperor said: “Ought it not suffice you that ye spill your own souls,
but that ye have a mind to force others to lose theirs too? My cousin, the
Princess is evil-handled among you, her servants plucked from her, and she,

still cried upon to leave Mass, to forsake her religion, in which her mother,
her grandmother, and all our family have lived and died.” Wotton told him
that when he left England, she was honourably entertained, in her own
house, with such about her as she best liked, and he thought she must be so
still, since not hearing to the contrary, he was driven to think there was no
change. “Yes, by St. Mary,” saith he, “of late they handle her evil, and
therefore, say you hardly to them, I will not suffer her to be evil-handled by
them. I will not suffer it. Is it not enough that mine aunt, her mother was
evil entreated by the King that dead is, but my cousin must be worse
ordered by councillors now? I had rather she died a thousand deaths, than
that she should forsake her faith and mine. The King’s Majesty is too young
to skill of such matters.” Hereupon, Wotton, professing that it became him
not to dispute with his Majesty, yet being forced somewhat to answer him,
said that he knew the King was young in years, but yet “the Lord be praised
for his gifts poured upon him, as able to give an account of his faith as any
prince in Christendom being of thrice his years. And as for the Lady Mary,
tho’ she had a king to her father, hath a king to her brother and is akin to the
Emperor, yet in England there is but one king, and the king hath but one
law to rule all his subjects by. The Lady Mary being no king must content
herself to be a subject.”
“A gentle law I tell you,” said he, “that is made, the King’s majesty being
no ——” (illegible).
Wotton then asked, that Chamberlain, the English ambassador in
ordinary, might have the service of the Book of Common Prayer in his
house, without access of strangers. But the Emperor exclaimed, “English
service in Flanders! speak not of it. I will suffer none to use any doctrine or
service in Flanders that is not allowed of the Church.” If his cousin the
Lady Mary might not have her Masses, he would provide for her a remedy,
and in case his ambassador were restrained from serving of God, he had
already given him order that if the restraint come to-day, that he should to-
morrow depart.[274]
The Council replied to Wotton’s letter, that the Lady Mary might no
longer do as she had done, and that the laws would be henceforth executed
in her house. They concluded their ultimatum by saying that “his Majesty
also considers the Emperor’s demands for his ambassador in England to use

the Mass, and his denial to suffer his Majesty’s ambassador within his
dominions to use the Communion, too much unequal and unreasonable, and
therefore he doubts not the Emperor will otherwise consider this matter”.
The law of Uniformity once passed, Edward’s ministers could only
justify it by carrying it out logically; but in thus doing they cut through
marrow and bone, and the acts of the Privy Council show the drastic nature
of their dealings with the disobedient. On the 19th March, Sergeant Morgan
had been summoned before the Council for hearing Mass at St. John’s, in
the Lady Mary’s house, two or three days previously, “and not being able to
excuse himself, because that, being a learned man, he should give so ill an
example to others, he was committed to the Fleet prison”.[275]
On the 24th, Sir Anthony Browne was examined as to whether he had of
late heard any Mass or not, when he answered, “that indeed twice or thrice
at the New Hall; and once at Romford, as my Lady Mary was coming hither
about ten days past, he had heard Mass. Which being considered as a
notable ill example, was thought requisite to be corrected, and therefore he
was committed to the Fleet.”[276]
On the same day, Rochester, Comptroller of Mary’s household, was
interrogated as to “how many ordinary chaplains her Grace had”. He
answered that she had four, namely Drs. Mallet, Hopton, Barker and
Ricardes. But it was not until August that definite steps were taken to
coerce the Princess into subjection. The story of the proceedings as it is told
in the Acts of the Privy Council is dramatic.[277]
The English envoys having signified to the Emperor the ultimatum of
Edward’s government on the 9th August, on the 15th, three of Mary’s
servants, Rochester, Waldegrave and Sir Francis Englefield appeared before
the Council, and were commanded on their return home, to call Mary’s
chaplains together, and to inhibit them from further saying Mass in her
house, or in any other place, contrary to the King’s laws, under pain of the
King’s high indignation and displeasure. As Rochester made many excuses
“to avoid the report of this matter unto her Grace and the execution thereof
in her house, he was finally commanded on his allegiance to see it
performed, and in case her Grace should dismiss him, and the rest out of her
service, upon the receipt of this message (as he pretended she would) then

was he and the rest commanded on the King’s Majesty’s behalf, neither to
avoid her service nor to depart from her house, but to see this order
prescribed unto them fulfilled until they should have further commandment
from hence”.[278]
They were then dismissed, and returned to Mary, but were summoned to
appear again on the 24th, to give an account of their doings. In the
meanwhile, the Princess wrote the following letter to Edward, which was
perhaps more forcible than anything she had hitherto said in her defence:—
“My duty most humbly remembered unto your Majesty. It may please the same to be
advertised, that I have by my servants received your most honourable letter, the contents
whereof do not a little trouble me, and so much the more for that any of my servants should
move or attempt me in matters touching my soul, which I think the meanest subjects within
your realm could evil bear at their servants’ hands; having for my part utterly refused
heretofore to talk with them in such matters, and of all other persons least regarded them
therein; to whom I have declared what I think, as she which trusted that your Majesty
would have suffered me, your poor humble sister and beadswoman, to have used the
accustomed Mass, which the King your father and mine, with all his predecessors
evermore used; wherein also I have been brought up from my youth, and thereunto my
conscience doth not only bind me, which by no means will suffer me to think one thing and
do another, but also the promise made to the Emperor, by your Majesty’s Council, was an
assurance to me, that in so doing I should not offend the laws, although they seem now to
qualify and deny the thing. And at my last waiting upon your Majesty, I was so bold to
declare my mind and conscience to the same, and desired your Highness rather than you
should constrain me to leave the Mass, to take my life, whereunto your Majesty made me a
very gentle answer. And now I beseech your Highness to give me leave to write what I
think touching your Majesty’s letters. Indeed they be signed with your own hand, and
nevertheless in my opinion not your Majesty’s in effect, because it is well known (as
heretofore I have declared in the presence of your Highness) that although our Lord be
praised, your Majesty hath far more knowledge, and greater gifts than others of your years,
yet it is not possible that your Highness can at these years be a judge in matters of religion.
And therefore I take it, that the matter in your letter proceedeth from such as do wish these
things to take place, which be most agreeable to themselves, by whose doings (your
Majesty not offended) I intend not to rule my conscience. And thus, without molesting your
Highness any further, I humbly beseech the same, ever for God’s sake to bear with me as
you have done, and not to think that by my doings or ensample any inconvenience might
grow to your Majesty, or your realm; for I use it not after any such sort, putting no doubt
but in time to come, whether I live or die, your Majesty shall perceive mine intent is
grounded upon a true love towards you, whose royal estate I beseech Almighty God long to
continue, which is and shall be my daily prayer, according to my duty. And after pardon
craved of your Majesty, for these rude and bold letters, if neither at my humble suit, nor for
regard of the promise made to the Emperor, your Highness will suffer and bear with me as
you have done, till your Majesty may be a judge herein yourself, and right understand their
proceedings (of which your goodness yet I despair not) otherwise rather than offend God
and my conscience, I offer my body at your will, and death shall be more welcome than
life with a troubled conscience.

“Most humbly beseeching your Majesty to pardon my slowness in answering your
letters, for my old disease would not suffer me to write any sooner. And thus I pray
Almighty God to keep your Majesty in all virtue and honour, with good health and long
life to his pleasure.
“From my poor house at Copped Hall, the xix of August.
“Your Majesty’s most humble sister,

“Marye.”[279]

On the 24th, the officers of Mary’s household appeared duly before the
Lords, and in the words of the minutes of the Privy Council, “declared unto
their Lordships that upon Saturday the 15th of this present, they arrived at
Copped-hall somewhat before night, by reason whereof they did not the
same night execute their charge committed to them at Hampton Court, the
14th of this present. The Sunday following, being the 16th of this present,
because they understood that her Grace received the Sacrament, for so they
termed it, they did abstain to deliver their letters before noon, considering
that the same would trouble and disquiet her so as after dinner, taking
commodity to deliver their letters, after that her Grace had read them, they
made offer to her to declare what charge they had received of the Lords to
execute, praying her Grace to be contented to hear the same. Whereunto her
Grace made answer, that she knew right well that their commission was
agreeing with such matter as was contained in her letters, and that therefore
they need not to rehearse the same, howbeit they pressing her Grace, she
was finally content to hear them. And when they had said, she seemed to be
marvellously offended with them, and charged them that they should not
declare that same they had in charge to say, neither to her chaplains nor
family, which if they did, besides that they should not take her hereafter for
their mistress, she would immediately depart out of the house. Upon this,
the said Rochester, Inglesfeld (sic) and Walgrave said to the Lords that
forasmuch as she oftentimes altered her colour, and seemed to be passioned
and unquiet, they forbare to trouble her any further, fearing that the
troubling of her might perchance bring her to her old disease, and besought
her to consider the matter with herself, and pause thereupon against
Wednesday next, when they would wait on her Grace, and know her further
pleasure; which they said they did, hoping to have found her then, upon
more ripe deliberation, and debating of the matter with herself, more
conformable. And in the meantime, they forbare also to declare to her
chaplains and household the charge they had received. But replying to her

Grace, the Wednesday, being the xxth of this present, they did not only not
find her conformable, but in further choler than she was before, utterly
forbidding them to make declaration of their said charge and commission to
her chaplains and household; adding that where she and her household were
in quiet, if they would by any means disturb her and them, if any
inconvenience did ensue thereof to her or them she would erect it to the said
Rochester, Inglefeld and Walgrave, which thing considered, they thought it
better to return without doing their commission, and declare thus much to
their Lordships, without meddling any further, than to proceed in the
execution of their charge before they had advertised their Lordships of the
premisses.”[280]
They brought with them Mary’s letters of the 19th, addressed to the King,
and the next day were again summoned to receive a sharp rebuke for having
“troubled her Grace” with delivering their message to her, contrary to the
directions given to them, and for doing nothing in regard to the prohibition
to her chaplains and household. They were then each commanded
separately, to return and do the business required of them. But this they one
and all refused to do, Rochester and Waldegrave saying that they would
rather endure any punishment, and Sir Francis Inglefield declaring that he
could find it neither in his heart nor his conscience to do so. They were
therefore dismissed, with orders to be in readiness to appear, whenever their
Lordships should summon them, until such time as they should know their
further pleasure. Meanwhile, the Lord Chancellor Rich, Sir William Petre,
one of the secretaries, and Sir Anthony Wingfield, Comptroller of his
Majesty’s Household, repaired to Copt Hall, taking with them “a trusty
skylfull man” who, it was intended, should for the time being replace
Rochester in the management of Mary’s household. The following is their
own account of their proceedings:—
“Windsor, 29th August 1551. First having received commandment and
instructions from the King’s Majesty, we repaired to the said Lady Mary’s
house at Copthall in Essex, on Friday last, being the 28th of this instant, in
the morning, where, shortly after our coming, I, the Lord Chancellor
delivered his Majesty’s letters unto her, which she received upon her knees,
saying that for the honour of the King’s Majesty’s hand, wherewith the said
letters were signed, she would kiss the letters, and not for the matter
contained in them, for the matter (said she) I take to proceed not from his

Majesty, but from you of the Council. In the reading of the letter, which she
did read secretly to herself, she said these words in our hearing—’Ah! good
Mr. Cecil took much pain here’. When she had read the letters, we began to
open the matter of our instructions unto her. And as I, the Lord Chancellor
began, she prayed me to be short, for (said she) I am not well at ease; and I
will make you a short answer, notwithstanding that I have already declared
and written my mind to his Majesty plainly, with my own hand.
“After this, we told her at good length, how the King’s Majesty, having
used all the gentle means and exhortations that he might, to have reduced
her to the rights of religion and order of Divine Service set forth by the laws
of the realm, and finding her nothing conformable, but still remaining in her
former error, had resolved, by the whole estate of his Majesty’s Privy
Council, and with the consent of divers others of the nobility, that she
should no longer use the private Mass, nor any other Divine Service than is
set forth by the laws of the realm; and here we offered to show her the
names of all those that were present at this consultation and resolution; but
she said she cared not for any rehearsal of their names, for (said she) I know
you be all of one sort therein. We told her further, that the King’s Majesty’s
pleasure was, that we should also give strait charge to her chaplains and
servants, that none of them should presume to say any Mass or other Divine
Service than is set forth by the laws of the realm, and like charge to all her
servants that none of them should presume to hear any Mass or other Divine
Service than is aforesaid. Hereunto her answer was this: First, she protested
that to the King’s Majesty she was, is, and ever will be, his most humble
and most obedient subject and poor sister, and would most willingly obey
all his commandments in anything (her conscience saved)—yea and would
willingly and gladly suffer death, to do his Majesty good; but rather than
she will agree to use any other service than was used at the death of the late
King, her father, she would lay her head on a block and suffer death; but
(said she) I am unworthy to suffer death in so good a quarrel. When the
King’s Majesty (said she) shall come to such years that he may be able to
judge these things himself, his Majesty shall find me ready to obey his
orders in religion; but now in these years, although he, good, sweet King,
have more knowledge than any other of his years, yet is it not possible that
he can be a judge in these things. For if ships were to be sent to the seas, or
any other thing to be done, touching the policy of the government of the

realm, I am sure you would not think his Highness yet able to consider what
were to be done, and much less (said she) can he in these days discern what
is fittest in matters of divinity. And if my chaplains do say no Mass, I can
hear none, no more can my poor servants, but as for my servants, I know it
shall be against their wills, as it shall be against mine, for if they could
come where it were said, they would hear it with good-will. And as for my
priests, they know what they have to do. The pain of your laws is but
imprisonment for a short time, and if they will refuse to say Mass for fear of
that imprisonment, they may do therein as they will, but none of your new
service (said she) shall be used in my house, and if any be said in it, I will
not tarry in the house.”
They then went on to blame Rochester and the others for not executing
the orders of the Council, upon which Mary replied that “it was not the
wisest counsel to appoint her servants to control her in her own house, and
if they refused to do the message unto her and her chaplains and servants as
aforesaid, they be (said she) the honester men, for they should have spoken
against their own consciences”.
The promise to the Emperor was then discussed.
“I have (quoth she) the Emperor’s hand, testifying that this promise was
made, which I believe better than you all of the Council; and though you
esteem little the Emperor, yet should you show more favour to me for my
father’s sake, who made the more part of you, almost of nothing. But as for
the Emperor (said she), if he were dead I would say as I do, and if he would
give me now other advice, I would not follow it, notwithstanding (quoth
she) to be plain with you, his ambassador shall know how I am used at your
hands. After this we opened the King’s Majesty’s pleasure, for one to attend
on her Grace for the supply of Rochester’s place during his absence. To this
her answer was that she would appoint her own officers, and that she had
years sufficient for that purpose, and if we left any such man she would go
out of her gates, for they two would not dwell in one house. And (quoth
she) I am sickly, and yet I would not die willingly, but will do the best I can
to preserve my life; but if I shall chance to die, I will protest openly that you
of the Council be the causes of my death; you give me fair words, but your
deeds be always ill towards me. And having said this, she departed from us
into her bedchamber, and delivered to me, the Lord Chancellor a ring, upon

her knees, most humbly, with very humble recommendations, saying that
she would die his true subject and sister, and obey his commandments in all
things, except in this matter of religion, touching the Mass and the new
Service, but yet said she this shall never be told to the King’s Majesty. After
her departing, we called the chaplains, and the rest of the household before
us, giving them strait commandment upon pain of their allegiance, that
neither the priests should from henceforth say any Mass or other Divine
Service than that which is set forth by the laws of the realm, nor that they
the residue of the servants should presume to hear any. The chaplains after
some talk, promised all to obey the King’s Majesty’s commandment
signified by us.”
Each one was ordered on his allegiance, to inform the Council if this
command were disobeyed, and when after some time, the commissioners
were waiting outside the house for one of the chaplains who had not been
present when the charge was given, they go on to say that, “the Lady
Mary’s Grace sent to us to speak with her one word at a window. When we
were come into the court, notwithstanding that we offered to come up to her
chamber, she would needs speak out of the window, and prayed us to speak
to the Lords of the Council, that her comptroller might shortly return, for
said she sythens his departing I take the account myself of my expenses,
and learn how many loaves of bread be made of a bushel of wheat, and ye
wis my father and my mother never brought me up with baking and
brewing, and to be plain with you, I am weary of mine office, and therefore,
if my Lords will send my officer home, they shall do me pleasure,
otherwise if they will send him to prison, I beshrew him if he go not to it
merrily, and with a good-will. And I pray God to send you to do well in
your souls and bodies too, for some of you have but weak bodies.”[281]
Instead of granting this last request, the Council committed the three
officers, Rochester, Waldegrave and Inglefield to the Tower, where they
remained till the 18th March 1552, and a month later, the same Lords
addressed letters to the Lady Mary’s Grace, that her servants be sent unto
her according to her desire. By that time, another wave had swept over
Mary’s destiny. For some reason that has never been apparent, the King’s
counsellors changed their tactics, and the Princess was henceforth allowed
to practise her religion in peace. Edward’s health was rapidly declining, and
the bold design of the Duke of Northumberland to set aside her rights, and

annul her father’s will, had not yet been framed. It might, therefore, have
been judged prudent, somewhat to conciliate one who stood so near the
throne, and who might soon be called upon to mount it. Moreover, in 1550,
Sir John Masone informed the Council that the Emperor had serious
thoughts of carrying her off, and in 1551 we find that certain pinnaces were
prepared for her secret transport over sea.[282]
Perhaps both these considerations weighed with the Council, and the fall
of Somerset further turned the scale in her favour by ridding Mary of her
bitterest enemy. He was again arrested in December 1551, lodged in the
Tower, and tried for high treason. Acquitted of this charge, he was
condemned for felony, and executed within six weeks. The fact is notified
in Edward’s Journal in the words: “The Duke of Somerset had his head cut
off upon Tower hill, between eight and nine o’clock in the morning” (22nd
January 1552).
None of Edward’s ministers had been so violently opposed to the old
religion, so active in the advancement of the Reformation as Somerset.
Calvin wrote to him from Geneva, a letter in which he praised the spiritual
work done by the Protector in England, and gave him sundry advice as to
the disposal of matters in the Church, thanking him for having presented his
works to the young King, and for having taken into his service a boy whom
he had recommended.[283] It was not likely that a man whose doings were
singled out for approval by Calvin would ever tolerate Mary’s attitude
towards Popery, and therefore his fall may be considered a factor in the
liberty granted to her. Henceforth, to the end of the reign, she was on good
terms with her brother’s ministers, and her name only occurs in the minutes
of the Privy Council Registers in reference to warrants for payments to her
comptroller, Mr. Rochester, for the maintenance of her household, or for the
repairing of her lands “damaged by the rage of the water this last year”. One
entry mentions the committal of a man “for stealing the Lady Mary’s
hawks”.
An account of a visit paid to her at Hunsdon, in September 1552 by
Bishop Ridley shows the complete religious freedom which she then
enjoyed. She received him courteously, and talked with him very pleasantly
for a quarter of an hour, reminding him that she knew him at court, when he
was chaplain to her father; and she mentioned a sermon which he had

preached at a certain wedding. Then she dismissed him to dine with her
household. After dinner, he offered to preach to her in the church, on which
she replied, that he might preach, but that neither she nor any of hers would
listen.
“Madam,” he expostulated, “I trust you will not refuse God’s Word.”
“I cannot tell what ye call God’s Word,” answered Mary. “That is not
God’s Word now which was God’s Word in my father’s days.”
“God’s Word is all one in all times, but is better understood and practised
in some ages than in others,” replied Ridley.

THE PRINCESS MARY.
From the original portrait in the possession of the Marquis of Exeter.

“You durst not for your ears have avouched that for God’s Word in my
father’s days that now do you,” she retorted, “and as for your new books, I
thank God I never read any of them; I never did nor ever will do.”
In dismissing him she said, “My lord, for your gentleness to come and
see me, I thank you; but for your offering to preach before me I thank you
never a whit”.

Before leaving, he drank according to custom a stoup of wine with
Mary’s steward, but suddenly felt a qualm of conscience, and exclaimed, “I
have done amiss. I have drunk in that place where God’s Word offered hath
been refused. I ought, if I had done my duty, to have departed immediately,
and to have shaken the dust off my shoes for a testimony against this
house.”[284]
Although the Puritans had set the fashion of sober colours and rigid
simplicity of dress, which was followed by most people during Edward’s
reign, the Princess and her friends continued to assume a considerable
amount of state in their retinue and attire. Strype[285] records that on her
going to court in 1550, Mary rode through London with fifty knights and
gentlemen in velvet coats and chains of gold before her, while following her
were fourscore gentlemen and ladies. On her arrival, the Comptroller of the
King’s Household received her, and many lords and knights escorted her
through the hall to the presence chamber, where she remained two hours
“being treated at a goodly banquet”. But when she visited the King at
Greenwich in 1552, it was observed that her company was only half the
number which a nobleman chose to come with a week afterwards.[286]
Edward had always been a delicate boy, and his weak constitution was
still further debilitated in 1552, by a combination of diseases, so that even
the most hopeful began to fear the worst. Nothing was however done to
alter the succession till the spring of the following year. In May, took place
the marriage of Lord Guildford Dudley, fourth son of the Duke of
Northumberland, to the Lady Jane Grey, granddaughter of Henry VIII.’s
sister Mary, who, first married to the King of France, became afterwards the
wife of Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. This marriage of his son to one so nearly
related to the royal family was Northumberland’s first step in what Turner
calls “that nefarious combination,” by which the Crown was to be alienated
from its rightful possessor, and placed on the head of a usurper. The
injustice of the proceeding was threefold: 1. Henry VIII. had determined the
succession by virtue of a statute of the realm, and it could not legally be set
aside. 2. In the event of the failure of both his daughters, the next in
succession would have been Mary Stuart, but Northumberland passed her
over with the inconsistent pretext, that Henry had excluded the issue of his
elder sister, Margaret, from his will. 3. The Lady Frances, daughter of the

Duchess of Suffolk, married to Henry, Lord Grey, created Duke of Suffolk,
was also set aside, in favour of her eldest daughter, the better to satisfy
Northumberland’s ambition by marrying this young lady to his son. On the
25th June Edward was so ill that it was reported he was dead, and one of his
physicians told the French ambassador that he could not get beyond the
month of August. He died on the 6th July, having been persuaded to exclude
both his sisters from the succession, in defiance of his father’s will, and to
leave the Crown to the Lady Jane Grey.

FOOTNOTES:
[252] Harl. MS. 5087, art. vi., Brit. Mus. Ellis’s Letters, ii., 134, 1st series.
[253] Letters of the Kings of England, vol. ii., p. 8, edited by J. O. Halliwell.
[254] “And when the Lady Mary his sister (who ever kept her house in very
Catholic manner and order) came to visit him, he took special content in her
company (I have heard it from an eye witness) he would ask her many questions,
promise her secrecy, carrying her that respect and reverence, as if she had been his
mother. And she again in her discretion, advised him in some things that concerned
himself, and in other things that touched herself; in all shewing great affection and
sisterly care of him. The young king would burst forth in tears, grieving matters
could not be according to her will and desire. And when the duke his uncle did use
her with straitness and want of liberty, he besought her to have patience until he
had more years, and then he would remedy all. When she was to take leave, he
seemed to part from her with sorrow; he kissed her, he called for some jewel to
present her, he complained that they gave him no better to give her. Which noted
by his tutors, order was taken that these visits should be very rare, alleging that
they made the king sad and melancholy; and consulted to have afflicted her officer
and servants; for that contrary to the then made law, she had public Mass in her
chapel, if they could draw any consent from the king. But he, upon no reasons,
would ever give way to it, and commanded strictly that she might have full liberty
of what she would. He sent to her, inquiring if they gave her any trouble or
molestation, for if they did, it was against his will, and he would see her contented.

But it was not safe, nor did it stand with prudence, as the times went, for the Lady
Mary to complain” (The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria, pp. 61-62).
[255] Gregorio Leti in his Historia di Elisabetta publishes a letter written by
Elizabeth to the Admiral (vol. i., p. 171) in which she declined the offer of his
hand. There is no possibility of verifying the fact, as the original letter to which
Leti had access has since disappeared; but as he has proved himself careful in
instances which have been verified, there is no reason to doubt his accuracy in
those which cannot be submitted to a like scrutiny.
[256] Ellis’s Letters, vol. ii., p. 151, 1st series.
[257] Lansdowne MS. 1236, f. 26. Printed in Ellis’s Letters, vol. ii., p. 149, 1st
series (a facsimile of this letter in Mary’s own hand is on the next page).
[258] Leti, Historia di Elisabetta, vol. i., p. 180. Printed in Letters of Royal and
Illustrious Ladies, vol. iii., p. 193.
[259] Record Office, State Papers, vol. vi., 19, 20, 21, 22 Feb. 1549.
[260] Journal of King Edward’s Reign, written in the King’s own hand.
[261] Burnet, History of the Reformation, vol. ii., p. 187.
[262] Latimer’s Sermons, 1st edition, 4th sermon. The passage was expunged in
the later editions.
[263] Add. MS. 5151, f. 308, Brit. Mus.
[264] Statutes of the Realm, iv., 110.
[265] Ridley ordered the altars in his diocese to be taken down, as occasions of
great superstition and error; and tables to be set in their room, in some convenient
place in the chancel or choir. The Catholics ridiculed the tables as “oyster-boards”
(Strype, Annals of the Reformation, p. 355).
[266] Acts of the Privy Council, new series, vol. ii., p. 312, edited by John Roche
Dasent.
[267] Lansdowne MS. 1236, f. 28, Brit. Mus.
[268] Lemon, Dom., Edward VI., vol. i., p. 22, art. 51.
[269] Acts of the Privy Council, vol. ii., p. 291, new series.
[270] Foxe, vol. vi., p. 12.
[271] Journal of King Edward’s Reign, 21.
[272] Turnbull, Cal. State Papers, Edward VI., Foreign, 1547-53, p. 75.
[273] Turnbull, Cal. State Papers, Edward VI., Foreign, 1547-53, p. 137.
[274] Turnbull, Cal. State Papers, Edward VI., Foreign, 1547-53, p. 137.
[275] Acts of the Privy Council, vol. iii., p. 239, new series.
[276] Ibid.

[277] Ibid., p. 240.
[278] Ibid., p. 329.
[279] Harl. MS. 352, f. 186. Ellis’s Letters, vol. ii., p. 176, 1st series.
[280] Acts of the Privy Council, vol. iii., p. 336 et seq., new series.
[281] Acts of the Privy Council, vol. iii., p. 348 et seq.
[282] Turnbull, Cal. State Papers, Foreign, p. 53. Strype, Ecclesiastical
Memorials, vol. ii., pt. i., p. 457.
[283] Lansdowne MS. 2, f. 141.
[284] Foxe, Acts and Monuments, vol vi., p. 354, Cattley’s ed.
[285] Ecclesiastical Memorials, vol. ii., pt. i., p. 444.
[286] Sharon Turner, History of England, vol. xi., p. 325 note.

CHAPTER IX.
THE COMING OF THE QUEEN.
1553.
The hereditary enmity between Charles V. and the King of France, which
in its earliest stages had deluged Europe with blood, and had made of the
city of Rome a shambles, was in its later developments the cause of most of
the troubles of Mary’s reign. Scarcely was it whispered that Edward lay
dying, when England became at once the political battlefield of their
conflicting interests.
Charles opened the campaign by sending over from Brussels three
envoys extraordinary, ostensibly to visit the King, but really to watch
Mary’s case in the interest of the empire. These envoys were Jean de
Montmorency Sieur de Corrières, Jacques de Mornix Sieur de Toulouse,
and last, though by no means the least, Simon Renard, who was destined to
play an important part in Mary’s future. France too was immediately in the
field, and Henry II. despatched two envoys to the coast, with instructions to
remain at Boulogne till further orders, while de Noailles, his ambassador in
England, made overtures to Northumberland of French aid in the event of
foreigners attempting to disturb the tranquillity of the realm.
Charles’s aim was to bring about a marriage between his son and his
cousin, as soon as Mary might be sure of reigning, in the hope that their
issue would exclude the next legitimate heir to the throne of England, the
young Scottish Queen already betrothed to the Dauphin. On the other hand,
Henry’s object was of course to defeat this project, to prevent Mary Tudor if
possible from succeeding to her inheritance, to place obstacles in the way of
any marriage that might be proposed, and above all to hinder by every
means in his power, her union with the Prince of Spain.
Mary was no politician. The diplomacy under which she had suffered had
not taught her to meet treachery with dissimulation and fraud with cunning.
She could arm herself at all points for defence, but she was not a good

dissembler. “To be plain with you,” was an expression natural to her, and all
her words and actions were plain, clean-cut and unmistakable. Her letters
are a distinct contrast to Elizabeth’s monuments of mystification, framed to
confuse, if not altogether to mislead. Perhaps Mary’s greatest misfortune
was that she was born fifty years too late. Her virtues and her faults were
those of a past, or rapidly passing, age. She belonged by every fibre of her
nature to the old order, while the world about her was holding out eager
arms to the Renaissance, to the new life that was so well worth living, the
new learning that added a fresh impetus to intellectual pursuits, to the new
religion that was to lead men away from the purgative into the illuminative
way, abolishing good works as snares of the Evil One. The world was
advancing; Mary with a few kindred spirits was reactionary, and if for a
while, her popularity was as great, the nation’s love for her as enthusiastic
as ever, it was because people were still more than half unconscious of the
new forces at work among them. England was not yet Protestantised. The
legislation of five or six years had not overcome the habits of thought
formed by nine centuries, and although a new generation had sprung up
since the rupture with Rome, believing that Pope spelt arch-enemy, the
greater number of Englishmen were in all other respects Catholics by
choice. But as strong as their particular fear of Rome was their general
distrust of all foreigners, and especially of Spaniards; and the French
ambassador took care to keep that distrust alive, and to increase it by every
means in his power.
Edward lay dying, but no sign was allowed to transpire of the revolution
that was intended. The Council Registers are a blank, save for significant
entries concerning the removal of artillery from the ships and forts to the
Tower. But these ominous if silent preparations did not escape the notice of
the imperial envoys, who kept close watch, to prevent a surprise.
The young King breathed his last on the evening of the 6th July, but it
had been arranged that the event should be kept secret, till all was in
readiness for the great stroke. The guards were doubled in the palace, and
every care was taken that the outer world should still ask anxiously for
news from the sick chamber. Nevertheless, that same night, Mary was
informed of her brother’s death. She had ridden from Hunsdon, where she
was then residing, towards London, and was expected by the conspirators at

court, whence she would have been at once transferred in safe custody to
the Tower.
At Hoddesden, however, she was met by a secret messenger, bringing the
fateful news. Putting spurs to her horse, she rode into the eastern counties,
with the intention of gaining Kenninghall, a house in Norfolk left to her by
Henry VIII., the gift being confirmed by a grant of the second year of
Edward VI. On the way, she stopped to rest at the house of Mr. Huddleston
of Sawston, and in consequence of her prompt action, while she was under
this hospitable roof, the bubble blown by Northumberland burst sooner than
had been intended. On leaving Sawston, Mary looked back from the summit
of a neighbouring hill, and saw smoke rising from the house that had
sheltered her. The rebels had set fire to it, thinking that she was still there. It
was burned to the ground, but after the rebellion, the Queen granted to Mr.
Huddleston the materials from the ruins of Cambridge Castle, with which to
rebuild his home.[287] Hengrave Hall was the next halting-place, whence
John Bourchier, Earl of Bath, accompanied her with a considerable force to
Kenninghall. [288] From thence, she sent proclamations into all parts of the
country, announcing her accession, and calling her loyal subjects to her aid.
Among the muniments of Condover Hall, Shropshire, is a letter from Mary
dated six days after Edward’s death, and addressed to the Mayor of Chester,
summoning the inhabitants of that part of the county to raise as great a force
as possible, and repair to her at Kenninghall, or elsewhere in Norfolk,
“wherefore right trusty and well-beloved, as ye be true Englishmen, fail ye
not”.
With her were the Earl of Sussex, the Lord Mordaunt, Sir William Drury,
Sir John Shelton, Sir Henry Bedingfeld, Sir Henry Jerningham, besides the
Earl of Bath and his contingent. As her whereabouts became known,
numbers flocked to her standard. In two days, she found herself at the head
of 30,000 men, and while the conspirators were taking possession of the
Tower, of the Crown, of the Crown jewels and the revenues, Mary without a
single accessory of royalty, without arms or money, was gathering round
her the flower of the nobility, and was issuing manifestoes to the whole
kingdom, as calmly as if she were already undisputed mistress of the realm.
When it became known that the Duke of Northumberland was advancing
with an army, she removed her quarters to Framlingham, a strongly fortified
house belonging to the Duke of Norfolk, who had been a prisoner in the

Tower ever since 1546.[289] A report was circulated that the Council was
about to execute him, together with the rest of the State prisoners, Gardiner,
Bishop of Winchester, deprived for religion, and Edward Courtenay, son of
the Marquis of Exeter who was beheaded in the same cause in 1538.[290] On
the 10th July, Jane was proclaimed Queen.
“Item the x. day of the same month, after vii. o’clock at night was made a
proclamation at the Cross in Cheap by three herolds and one trumpet, with
the King’s Sheriff of London, Master Garrard, with divers of the guards, for
Jane, the Duke of Suffolk’s daughter to be Queen of England (but few or
none said ‘God save her’) the which was brought the same afternoon from
Richmond unto Westminster, and so unto the Tower of London by
water.”[291] At the same time, the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth were
declared illegitimate, and all estates and degrees were called upon to be
obedient to their lawful sovereign, Queen Jane. A vintner’s boy in the crowd
ventured to protest against the usurpation, and for his temerity was nailed to
the pillory by the ears, both of which were amputated before he could be set
free.[292]
Earlier in the day, the demise of the Crown had been announced in
London, and when the Lady Jane arrived at the Tower, she was surrounded
with as much state as was possible. The Lord Treasurer presented her
ceremoniously with the Crown; all knelt as she passed by; her train was
carried by her mother, the Duchess of Suffolk. But the space at the disposal
of the new court was extremely limited, the Tower being crowded with
prisoners, as well as with the members of the new government, who were
all lodged there for safety.
In spite of the lack of enthusiasm, and the silence with which Jane was
received, even in Protestant London, the imperial ambassadors thought
Mary’s determined attitude “strange, difficult and dangerous,” fearing that
in four days she would be in the hands of the Council. Though the people
hated Northumberland for his ambition, and dreaded him for his tyranny,
and though they gave credit to the rumours that Edward had been poisoned,
[293]
even Mary’s friends were of the opinion that it would be necessary to
appeal to the Emperor to place her on the throne. This, the ambassadors
thought, would in no wise diminish the affection of the country for her, so

entirely was she beloved by the people. [294] Their view of the desperate
character of her resistance was strengthened by the information that
Northumberland had sent his son Lord Henry Dudley into France, to solicit
troops, and that 6000 French soldiers were expected shortly to embark at
Dieppe and Boulogne.
On the 11th, a letter from Mary, addressed to the Lords of the Council
was brought to the Tower. It ran as follows:—
“My Lords,
“We greet you well, and have received sure advertisement that our dearest brother the
King, our late sovereign lord, is departed to God’s mercy; which news, how woeful they be
unto our heart, he only knoweth, to whose will and pleasure, we must and do, humbly
submit us and our wills. But in this so lamentable a case, that is to wit, now after his
Majesty’s departure and death, concerning the crown and governance of this realm of
England, with the title of France, and all things thereto belonging, what hath been provided
by act of Parliament, and the testament and last will of our dearest father, beside other
circumstances advancing our right, you know, the realm and the whole world knoweth; the
rolls and records appear by the authority of the King our said father, and the King our said
brother, and the subjects of this realm; so that we verily trust that there is no true good
subject that is, can or would pretend to be, ignorant thereof. And of our part we have of
ourselves caused, and as God shall aid and strengthen us, shall cause, our right and title in
this behalf to be published and proclaimed accordingly. And albeit this so weighty a matter
seemeth strange, that our said brother, dying upon Thursday at night last past, we hitherto
had no knowledge from you thereof, yet we consider your wisdom and prudence to be
such, that having eftsoons amongst you debated, pondered, and well weighed this present
case with our estate, with your own estate, the commonwealth and all our honours, we
shall and may conceive great hope and trust, with much assurance in your loyalty and
service; and therefore for the time, interpret and take things not to the worst; and that ye
will like noblemen work the best. Nevertheless, we are not ignorant of your consultations
to undo the provisions made for our preferment, nor of the great bands and provisions
forcible, wherewith ye be assembled and prepared, by whom, and to what end, God and
you know, and nature can but fear some evil. But be it that some consideration politic, or
whatsoever thing else hath moved you thereto; yet doubt you not my lords, but we can take
all these your doings in gracious part, being also right ready to remit and fully pardon the
same, and that freely, to eschew bloodshed and vengeance against all those that can or will
intend the same; trusting also assuredly, you will take and accept this grace and virtue in
good part, as appertaineth, and that we shall not be enforced to use the service of other our
true subjects and friends, which in this our just and right cause, God, in whom our whole
affiance is, shall send us. Wherefore my lords, we require you and charge you, and every of
you, that of your allegiance, which you owe to God and us, and to none other, for our
honour, and the surety of our person, only employ yourselves, and forthwith, upon receipt
hereof, cause our right and title to the crown and governance of this realm to be proclaimed
in our city of London, and other places, as to your wisdom shall seem good, and as to this
case appertaineth; not failing hereof, as our very trust is in you. And this our letter signed
with our hand, shall be your sufficient warrant in this behalf.
“Given under our signet at our manor of Kenninghall, the 9th of July 1553.”

This display of courage made no impression on the conspirators, and they
made answer:—
“Madam,
“We have received your letters the 9th of this instant, declaring your supposed title,
which you judge yourself to have, to the imperial crown of this realm, and all the
dominions thereunto belonging. For answer whereof, this is to advertise you, that for as
much as our sovereign lady queen Jane is after the death of our sovereign lord Edward the
6th, a prince of most noble memory, invested and possessed with the just and right title in
the imperial crown of this realm, not only by good order of old ancient laws of this realm,
but also by our late sovereign lord’s letters patent, signed with his own hand, and sealed
with the great Seal of England, in presence of the most part of the nobles, councillors,
judges, with divers other grave and sage personages, assenting and subscribing to the same.
We must therefore of most bound duty and allegiance assent unto her said grace, and to
none other, except we should, which faithful subjects cannot, fall into grievous and
unspeakable enormities. Wherefore we can no less do, but for the quiet both of the realm
and you also, to advertise you, that forasmuch as the divorce made between the King of
famous memory Henry 8th and the lady Katherine, your mother, was necessary to be had,
both by the everlasting laws of God, and also by the ecclesiastical laws, and by the most
part of the noble and learned universities of Christendom, and confirmed also by the
sundry acts of Parliament, remaining yet in their force, and thereby you justly made
illegitimate and unheritable to the crown imperial of this realm, and the rules and
dominions, and possessions of the same, you will, upon just consideration hereof, and of
divers other causes lawful to be alleged for the same, and for the just inheritance of the
right line and godly order, taken by the late King our sovereign lord King Edward the 6th,
and agreed upon by the nobles and great personages aforesaid, surcease by any pretence, to
vex and molest any of our sovereign lady Queen Jane her subjects, from their true faith and
allegiance unto her grace: assuring you, that if you will for respect, show yourself quiet and
obedient, as you ought, you shall find us all and several ready to do you any service that
we with duty may, and be glad with your quietness, to preserve the common state of this
realm: wherein you may be otherwise grievous unto us, to yourself and to them. And thus
we bid you most heartily well to fare.
“From the Tower of London, in this 9th July 1553.
“Your ladyship’s friends, showing yourself an obedient subject.”

Then follow the signatures of all the members of the Council, thus:—
“Thomas Canterbury, the Marquis of Winchester, John Bedford, Will.
Northampton, Thomas Ely, chancellor; Northumberland, Henry Suffolk,
Henry Arundel, Shrewsbury, Pembroke, Cobham, R. Rich, Huntingdon,
Darcy, Cheney, R. Cotton, John Gates, W. Peter, W. Cecill, John Cheeke,
John Mason, Edward North, R. Bowes”.[295]
The confident tone of the above letter concealed the real sentiments of
the conspirators. The Duke of Suffolk had been commissioned by

Northumberland to march into Norfolk, seize Mary’s person, and bring her
a prisoner to London. But Jane besought her father with tears not to leave
her, and Northumberland reluctantly took the command of the rebel troops
himself. As they marched through Shoreditch, he observed to Sir John
Gates, “The people crowd to look upon us, but not one exclaims God speed
ye!”[296]
He had no illusions about the attitude of the citizens, and trusted more to
an eloquent and fiery appeal to their Protestantism, than to the hope of
overawing them with the shadow of a sovereignty, for which they evinced
undisguised contempt. Before leaving London, therefore, he charged the
ministers of religion to expatiate in their sermons on the benefits to be
derived from the reign of a Protestant queen, and thus work on their
religious feelings. Ridley, Bishop of London, was the preacher at Paul’s
Cross on the 16th July. He declaimed violently against Mary, and sought to
persuade his hearers that she would bring in foreign power, and subvert all
Christian religion already established. He stigmatised her religion as a
“popish creed,” and herself as “the idolatrous rival” of Queen Jane. He
related the story of his visit to her at Hunsdon, and remarked on the
significance of her refusal to listen to his preaching, adding that
“notwithstanding in all other points of civility, she showed herself gentle
and tractable, yet in matters that concerned truth, faith and doctrine—so
stiff and obstinate that there was no other hope of her to be conceived, but
to disturb and overturn all that which with so great labours had been
confirmed and planted by her brother afore”.[297]
The people listened in unwonted and unsympathetic silence. They had
not yet learned to associate the claims of inheritance with those of religious
convictions. It would have seemed to them preposterous, that Mary should
forfeit her right to reign, because she professed the religion practised by
every one of her predecessors, with the single exception of Edward, who
had died before escaping from tutelage. Ridley’s language was reported
seditious, and when, after Mary’s proclamation, the Bishop of London
hastened to Framlingham to stultify all that he had said, by laying his
homage at the Queen’s feet, he was arrested at Ipswich, deprived of his
dignities, and sent to the Tower.[298]

The Duke of Northumberland, meanwhile, reached Bury with an army of
8,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry, only to find that he had been declared a
rebel, and that a price had been put upon his head. He would have pushed
on towards Framlingham, but disheartened by the hourly desertion of his
followers to Mary’s standard, he ordered a retreat to Cambridge. Six ships,
fully armed and manned, had been sent to lie in wait off Yarmouth, in order
to intercept Mary should she attempt to fly the realm. Sir Henry
Jerningham, who was raising troops in her behalf, boarded them each in
turn, and would have taken their captains prisoners, the whole of the crews
declaring for Mary, and expressing themselves willing to deliver them up:
—
“Then the mariners axed master Gernyngham what he would have, and
whether he would have their captains or no, and he said ‘yea marry’. Said
they ‘ye shall have them, or else we shall throw them to the bottom of the
sea’. The captains, seeing this perplexity, said forthwith they would serve
Queen Mary gladly, and so came forth with their men, and conveyed certain
great ordinance, of the which coming in of the ships, the lady Mary and her
company were wonderful joyous, and then afterward doubted greatly the
Duke’s puissance.”[299]
Scarcely had Northumberland left the Tower, when the news was brought
that Mary had been proclaimed at Norwich, that Sir Edward Peckham and
Sir Edward Hastings, Lord Windsor and others were out proclaiming her in
Buckinghamshire, and worst news of all, that the ships had surrendered
instantly to Jerningham. “Each man then,” says the Chronicle of Queen
Jane, “began to pluck in his horns,” and when a messenger arrived from
Oxfordshire, with tidings that Sir John Williams was holding the county for
Mary, the Earl of Pembroke and Sir Thomas Cheney tried to get out of the
Tower to feel the pulse of London. But Suffolk kept all the members of the
Council in a sort of honourable captivity,[300] and the matter required some
nice handling. The Council Registers, which contain no entries relating to
the Lady Jane’s brief reign, certify that on the 16th July, Queen Mary’s
friends in four counties, numbering in all 10,000, assembled at Paget’s
house at Drayton, and marched to Westminster, where they took possession
of the arms and ammunition stored in the palace, “for the better furnishing
of themselves in the defence of the Queen’s Majesty’s person and her title”.
Money was so scarce that no regular pay could be given to the soldiers, the

captain of each band being charged to relieve at his own discretion those
who were plainly necessitous, “but in such sort that it appear not otherwise
but to be of his own liberality”.[301]
Paget, it appears from the above, though shut up in the Tower, was in
friendly communication with the loyalists; and it is evident from Cecil’s
own account of his submission, that the moment Northumberland had left,
the various members of the Council began to plot against him. On the 19th
July, the Lords Treasurer, Privy Seal, Arundel, Shrewsbury and Pembroke,
with Sir Thomas Cheney and Sir John Masone succeeded, under pretext of
receiving the French ambassador, in getting out of the Tower, and having
communicated with the Lord Mayor, were at once joined by that dignitary,
the Recorder, and a deputation of aldermen. They assembled at Baynard’s
Castle, and the Earl of Arundel opened the proceedings by censuring
Northumberland’s ambition. As he finished speaking, Pembroke, drawing
his sword, exclaimed: “If the arguments of my lord Arundel do not persuade
you, this sword shall make Mary queen, or I will die in her quarrel”. Shouts
of applause answered him, and the Duke of Suffolk, who had been sent for,
signed the proclamation. The summons had convinced him that all was lost,
and he ordered his men to leave their weapons behind them. He proclaimed
Mary on Tower Hill, before joining the other members of the Council. They
then all rode through the City, and proclaimed her at Paul’s Cross, after
which Arundel and Paget were despatched to lay the submission of the
Council at her feet.[302]
According to the Grey Friars’ Chronicle, “The choir sang Te Deum with
the organs going and the bells ringing, as most parts all. And the same night
had the [most] part of London to dinner, with bonfires in every street of
London, with good cheer at every bonfire; and the bells ringing in every
parish-church, for the most part all night till the next day to None.”
A newsletter in Ralph Starkey’s collection says, “Great was the triumph
here at London; for my time I never saw the like, and by the report of
others, the like was never seen. The number of caps that were thrown up at
the proclamation were not to be told. The Earl of Pembroke threw away his
cap full of angellettes. I saw myself, money was thrown out at windows for
joy. The bonfires were without number, and what with shouting and crying

of the people, and ringing of the bells, there could no one hear almost what
another said, besides banquettings and singing in the street for joy.”[303]
Even Foxe, Mary’s bitterest enemy, admitted that “God so turned the
hearts of the people to her, and against the Council, that she overcame them
without bloodshed, notwithstanding there was made great expedition
against her both by sea and land”.[304]
Jane, having left her apartments in ignorance of what was happening, to
stand sponsor at the baptism of the child of Edward Underhill in St. John’s
Chapel, found on her return that the cloth of estate, and other insignia of
royalty had disappeared from her presence chamber, by order of the Duke
of Suffolk himself. The Crown had passed for ever from her, and there was
no alternative but a hasty retreat into that private life, from which it would
have been well for her had she never been drawn.
So much extravagant language has been employed by the partisans of the
Lady Jane Grey, in describing her virtues and accomplishments, while her
youth and tragic end make her so interesting a figure, that it is scarcely
wonderful if we find it difficult to form a sober opinion of one, who
appeared for a moment in our annals, and as the price of that appearance,
laid her fair young head upon the block. The charm that failed to draw even
a murmur of applause from her contemporaries, when she was thrust upon
them as Queen has been potent ever since, and there are few who do not
unconsciously canonise her on account of her misfortunes.
She had been educated severely, in the same kind of intellectual school as
that, in which the daughters of Henry VIII. and the learned family of Sir
Thomas More had also distinguished themselves. She was a good Latin and
Greek scholar, and was further well versed in the doctrines of the Genevan
Reformers. The instrument of Northumberland’s ambitious schemes, she
had passively acquiesced in the dignity conspired for her, but once raised to
the throne, the timid girl of sixteen had suddenly displayed the obstinacy
which she had inherited from her Tudor grandmother, and had evinced spirit
and determination enough to refuse to share her supposed title with her
husband.[305] Had the bold stroke succeeded, which placed the Crown for a
moment in her hands, her father-in-law might have lived to repent his
temerity.

It would be obviously unfair to hold Jane responsible for all that was
done in her name, but although Mary’s temper showed itself the reverse of
vindictive, it must have cost the Queen an effort, to forgive the nine days’
usurper the letter which purported to have been written by her to the
Marquis of Northampton, announcing her accession, and requiring his
allegiance and defence of her title, against “the feigned and untrue claim of
the Lady Mary, bastard daughter to our great-uncle, Henry the Eighth of
famous memory”. The draft of this letter, in Northumberland’s hand, and
endorsed by Cecil “First copy of a letter to be written by the Lady Jane
when she came from the Tower,” is in the British Museum, as is also the
copy made by a clerk and signed by Jane. This second copy was afterwards
endorsed by the Duke “Jana non Regina”.[306] On the news reaching the
Duke of Northumberland that the Council had submitted to Mary, and that
immediately the troops had testified their satisfaction in a volley of artillery,
he saw that further resistance would be suicidal. He threw up his cap and
shouted, “Long live Queen Mary! so laughing that the tears ran down his
face with grief”.[307] In less than an hour, he was summoned to disband his
army, and commanded not to approach London within ten miles. He
remained at Cambridge, and when that place, following the example of
Great Yarmouth, Colchester and Bury declared for Mary, he was arrested by
the municipality, but released on the Queen’s proclamation, ordering every
man to go to his own home, till further orders. Scarcely however did he
breathe freely, when the Earl of Arundel arrived to apprehend him on a
charge of high treason. Over and above the guilt which he shared with the
whole Council, he had borne arms against his lawful sovereign, and was
suspected of having offered Calais to the French as the price of their
support. At once guessing why Arundel had come, he fell on his knees, and
with a craven spirit begged him to be good to him for the love of God. “And
consider,” he added, “I have done nothing but by the consent of you all, and
all the whole Council.” He went to the Tower, guarded by 4,000 soldiers,
and was lodged in the Beauchamp Tower, whence he wrote abjectly to
Arundel: “Oh that it would please her good Grace to give me life, yea the
life of a dog, if I might live and kiss her feet; and spend both life and all in
her humble service, as I have the best part already, under her worthy brother
and most glorious father”.

Northumberland was, justly enough, the scapegoat; but as he had said, no
member of the Council came out of the matter with clean hands. All had
signed the will which the Duke had dictated to Edward, enfeebled by his
mortal disease, and dexterously worked up to a pitch of fanaticism that
made him oblivious of justice. But Cecil’s proceedings were, by his own
showing, perhaps the most despicable. In his written submission[308] to
Queen Mary, after beseeching her clemency, he went on to confess that his
conduct throughout the plot had been guided by the one consideration of
saving his skin whole. He had shuffled as long as he dared brave the Duke’s
irritation, and had given in only, when the odds in favour of the conspirators
seemed overwhelming. But when Northumberland had charged him to
proclaim the Lady Jane, he had shifted the responsibility of the act on to
Throckmorton, “whose conscience I saw was troubled therewith, misliking
the matter”. The document ends with the pious invocation:—
“Justus adjutorium meus Dominus qui salvos facit rectos corde. God save the Queen in
all felicity.
“W. Cecill.”

Sir William Petre had also tried to make compromises with the Duke, but
had succumbed, on being told that unless he agreed to the whole plan he
could no longer retain his office of Secretary of State. Each day brought
Mary fresh conquests. After a nine days’ rebellion, without a single blow
having been struck in her defence, she was proclaimed Queen in every town
in England. Her journey to London was a triumphal progress. Antoine de
Noailles, the French ambassador, who had so lately conspired with
Edward’s Council, and who was to be the evil genius of the new reign, rode
twenty-five miles into the country to meet and congratulate the Queen in his
master’s name, offering her the whole of the French forces, in support of
her right. At Wanstead, she was joined by the Lady Elizabeth, who had
prudently abstained from taking sides, till it should be clear where success
lay. She had declined Northumberland’s overtures, and offers of large sums
of money, but had equally avoided moving a finger in Mary’s cause,
pleading an illness, which however allowed her to recover opportunely,
when the Queen was about to take possession of her capital. Mary greeted
her affectionately, embraced all her ladies, and assigned her the next place
in the royal cortège after herself.[309] Together they entered the City of
London at Aldgate, on the 3rd August, and rode through the densely

crowded streets, the multitude rending the air with shouts of joy. Elizabeth
was too clever not to estimate at its real value the contrast presented by the
two sisters on this striking occasion. In spite of their loyalty and enthusiasm
in realising the reward of their long devotion, the people could not fail to
observe, that the Queen at thirty-seven, worn with trouble and sickness, was
eclipsed by Elizabeth’s twenty years.
Elizabeth was tall and majestic, more gracious than beautiful, pale of
complexion, with fine eyes, and hands that were admired for their whiteness
and elegance. It was noticed that she knew how to use them effectively.[310]
At the Tower, where according to custom, the Queen was to reside
pending her brother’s obsequies, the State prisoners of the two preceding
reigns were kneeling on the Green, in front of the scaffold. These were the
Duchess of Somerset, who had been in captivity since the execution of her
husband; the aged Duke of Norfolk; Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis
of Exeter, beheaded in 1538; Tunstal and Gardiner, the deprived Bishops of
Durham and Winchester. Gardiner, in the name of them all, congratulated
Mary on her accession, and without complaining of the injustice of their
detention expressed their joy at seeing her victorious over her enemies.[311]
“Ye are my prisoners!” exclaimed the Queen, bursting into tears.
Embracing them all, she ordered them to be released at once, and took them
with her to the royal apartments. Their goods, their rank, their sees were
restored. The next day, Gardiner was sworn a member of the Privy Council,
and three weeks later, was made Lord Chancellor of England.
The names of twenty-seven persons concerned in the rebellion were
handed to the Queen. Of these she struck out sixteen, leaving eleven to be
tried. These were again reduced to seven—the Duke of Northumberland, his
son the Earl of Warwick, the Marquis of Northampton, Sir John Gates, Sir
Henry Gates, Sir Andrew Dudley and Sir Thomas Palmer. The law then
took its course, and they were condemned to death. But Mary again
intervened; four were reprieved, and three only of the ringleaders, the Duke
of Northumberland, Sir John Gates and Sir Thomas Palmer, his chief
advisers, were executed. The Emperor urged her in vain to include the Lady
Jane in the number of those to be tried for high treason. The Queen spoke
warmly in her defence, and declared that she was less guilty than he

believed her to be. Usurper though she had been, she was but a tool, and
Mary would not have her punished for another’s crime. She had returned to
the Tower as a prisoner, along with her husband, but was allowed great
freedom within its precincts. The danger of her pretensions was, Mary
declared, imaginary, but every precaution should be taken before she was
restored to liberty.[312] With unprecedented mildness, the Queen had been
inclined to pardon even Northumberland, but Charles put pressure on her to
sign his death-warrant. The Duke made no defence at his trial, and on the
scaffold admitted his crime, expressed penitence, and declared that he died
a member of the Catholic and Roman Church.[313]
Whether Mary was persuaded of Jane’s innocence on the ground that the
girl was scarcely a free agent, or whether the letter which Jane wrote to her
as a prisoner,[314] turned the balance in her favour, is not clear, but it is
certain that the Queen’s treatment of her rival at this time was
magnanimous to imprudence, as the sequel showed. As for the other
delinquents, no rebellion had ever been quenched with so little effusion of
blood. Far otherwise had been Henry’s reprisals after the northern rising, far
other the crushing of the insurgents in Edward’s reign. Had the punishment
of the rebels rested entirely with Mary, she would have signalised her
advent with a full and general amnesty. The Duchess of Suffolk had thrown
herself at the Queen’s feet, imploring the pardon and release of her
husband, both of which she obtained immediately; but strange as it appears,
it is not on record that she even attempted to plead for her daughter.[315]
More stringent measures at the outset would no doubt have averted the
serious disturbances of the following year, and afterwards; and the opinion
of Charles V., that to punish the authors of sedition was to nip the revolution
in the bud, was justified in the event. He had insisted on the execution of
Northumberland and his lieutenants, but more than this he had not obtained.
The people had little respect or gratitude for a clemency which they did not
understand.

FOOTNOTES:
[287] “He (Mr. Huddleston) was highly honoured afterwards by Queen Mary, and
deservedly. Such the trust she reposed in him that (when Jane Grey was
proclaimed Queen) she came privately to him to Salston, and rid thence behind his
servant (the better to disguise herself from discovery) to Framlingham castle. She
afterwards made him (as I have heard) her privy councillor and (besides other great
boons) bestowed the bigger part of Cambridge Castle (then much ruined) upon
him, with the stones whereof he built his fair house in this county” (Fuller,
Worthies, i., p. 168).
[288] “A sketch of Hengrave Hall, Suffolk,” by Sir Henry Rookwood Gage.
[289] Henry had confiscated the place on the attainder of the Duke of Norfolk.
The Duke requested pathetically that he would be pleased to bestow it on the royal
children as it was “stately gear”. Mary restored it to its rightful owner.
[290] Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle, d’après les manuscrits de la
Bibliothèque de Besançon, publiés sous la direction de M. Ch. Weiss, tom. iv., p.
31.
[291] Cotton MS. Vit. F. xii., Brit. Mus. Printed in the Chronicle of Queen Jane
and Two Years of Queen Mary, p. 110, appendix.
[292] Holinshed, 1084.
[293] This was so generally believed, that the Emperor told Mary that she ought
to put to death all the conspirators who had any hand in the late King’s death
(Renard apud Griffet, p. 11).
[294] Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle, p. 39.
[295] Foxe, vol. vi., p. 385.
[296] Stow, 610, 611.
[297] Foxe, Acts and Monuments, vol. vi., p. 389. Burnet, vol. ii., p. 384.
Holinshed, 1087. Bishop Godwin says that “he was scarce heard out with
patience” (Life of Ridley by the Rev. Gloucester Ridley, LL.B., p. 415).
[298] According to Foxe he “had such cold welcome” at Framlingham, “that
being despoiled of all his dignities, he was sent back on a lame, halting horse to the
Tower” (vol. vi., p. 390).
[299] Chronicle of Queen Jane, etc., p. 8.
[300] De Noailles, Ambassades, i., p. 222.
[301] Acts of the Privy Council, vol. iv., p. 297.
[302] Harl. MS. 353, f. 139 et seq., Brit. Mus.
[303] The Chronicle of Queen Jane, etc., p. 11.

[304] Acts and Monuments, vol. vi., p. 388.
[305] “Dissi loro che se la corona s’ appetava a me, io sarei contenta di fare il
mio marito Duca ma non consentirei di farlo Rè” (Pollini, Istoria ecclesiastica
della rivoluzione d’Inghilterra, p. 357).
[306] The draft is the Lansdowne MS. 3, f. 24, the copy with Jane’s signature No.
1236 in the same collection.
[307] De Noailles, Ambassades, vol. i., p. 225.
[308] “A Brief Note of my submission and of my doings,” Lansdowne MS. 102,
f. 2, Brit. Mus.; printed by Tytler, England under the Reigns of Edward VI. and
Mary, vol. ii., p. 192.
[309] The Ambassadors of Charles V. to their Master, 6th August 1553, Record
Office.
[310] Armand Baschet, La Diplomatie Vénitienne au Seizième Siècle, p. 128. The
Venetian ambassador Sorranzo describes Mary about this time as “d’une taille
plutôt petite que grande, d’une carnation blanche, mêlée de rouge, et très-maigre;
elle a les yeux gros et gris, les cheveux roux et la figure ronde, avec le nez peut-
être un peu bas et large: en somme, si par suite de son âge elle ne commençait un
peu à marcher vers son déclin, on pourrait plutôt la dire belle que laide” (ibid., p.
121).
[311] De Noailles, Ambassades, vol. i., p. 228.
[312] Harl. MS. 284, f. 127, Brit. Mus.
[313] Foxe says that he was induced to make this profession by a promise of
pardon; but this assumption appears to be purely gratuitous.
[314] Pollini, p. 355. For the text of this letter see Appendix C to this volume.
[315] It is remarkable that active as the Duchess of Suffolk had been in the
usurpation, she was always treated by Mary with consideration and even
confidence.

CHAPTER X.
AGAINST THE TIDE.
July-December 1553.
Mary’s opportunity was in many ways a splendid one. From her earliest
youth, the new Queen had been the hope, the admiration, the delight of the
English people, and the poet expressed no mere conceit in the words:—
Il n’est cœur si triste qui ne rie
En attendant la princesse Marie.

The whole country welcomed her as one man, and it may be truly said
that it was the affection of Englishmen, no less than their loyalty that had
placed her on the throne. Nevertheless, she was beset with difficulties. The
art of reigning as she understood it was part and parcel of the mediæval
system, but it needed a spirit touched with the inspiration of the new age, to
direct the restless activities of a nation already beginning to be permeated
with the Renaissance. While she looked back to the past, her people had
emancipated themselves from mediæval traditions.
Moulding her conduct on the ideals which she had venerated from her
youth upwards, she regarded the new needs and tendencies with suspicion
and dislike; and thus gradually a breach was formed between herself and
the nation. She had its interests as sincerely at heart as any English monarch
either before or after her, but those interests, as she understood them, were
hopelessly at variance with the seething crowd of ideas that were
transforming the life of the people.
With intense honesty of purpose, Mary stood at the parting of the ways,
between a mediævalism that seemed good in her eyes, and a progress that
all her experience had taught her to interpret as revolution. It was partly her
inability to distinguish between the two, to seize the good element in the
new modes of thought, that brought about the catastrophe of her reign, and
evolved anarchy out of aspirations, which ably led and controlled, might
have contributed to the welfare of the realm. If it is unfortunate to be born

in advance of one’s age, it is doubly so to be behind it; but if conscientious
motives and earnest endeavour could have compensated for the mistake,
Mary would have won golden opinions instead of hatred and abuse. But
there were difficulties quite independent of her own limitations. At the
outset, the task of forming a government was a delicate one. Nearly all the
statesmen of the time had been members of Edward’s Council and had
proved themselves traitors. When she had restored the Duke of Norfolk to
the Council Board, had installed Sir John Gage as Constable of the Tower,
had made Sir Henry Jerningham a member of her Privy Council, Vice-
Chancellor and Captain of the Guard, had knighted her faithful Rochester
and set him over her household, had promoted Waldegrave to the charge of
the Grand Wardrobe, and had made Sir Francis Englefield a Privy
Councillor, the most important of the public offices remained to be filled by
those whom she could neither afford to offend nor to dispense with, but
who had all failed at the critical moment. The Earl of Arundel became Lord
Steward, the Marquis of Winchester retained his office of High Treasurer,
while many others of doubtful loyalty, including Sir William Petre and Sir
John Masone, made her Privy Council a compact body of potential
conspirators. Lord Paget, the most dangerous of all, became Secretary of
State and Privy Seal. Gardiner, henceforth Lord Chancellor, had once
vehemently opposed the validity of her mother’s marriage, although he had
since amply vindicated his claim to Mary’s regard, and stood highest of all
in her counsels, a sufficient answer to the charge so often made that the
Queen had foredoomed Cranmer, because he had pronounced the sentence
of divorce.
Mary lost no time in acquainting the Emperor and the French King with
her resolve to bring back Catholic worship. Henry congratulated her on her
intention, and urged her to proceed at once; but Charles advised caution,
and told her to pause until she had obtained the consent of Parliament.[316]
From Rome came still other counsel. If Mary was strangely unconscious of
the change that had come over the country since the days of her childhood,
at the heart of Christendom a still greater optimism prevailed. Reginald
Pole wrote to her, urging not only the reconciliation of her kingdom with
the Holy See, but also the restitution of Church lands. He congratulated her
on the manner of her accession, and trusted that as she had been tutored in
the school of God how to rule herself, her realm would become a mirror of

good order and true justice, to the comfort of all good men.[317] He also
wrote to the Emperor, representing that as the principal foundation of her
right to the Crown rested on the legitimacy of her mother’s marriage, which
depended on the Papal dispensation of Julius II.; by deferring the re-
establishment of Papal authority her right was in consequence deferred also.
[318]

Again he wrote to Mary herself, drawing attention to her own spiritual
danger and to the shipwrecked condition of the English nation, “for the
Queen, or at least England, was assuredly shipwrecked, when she threw
herself into the sea of this century; and having drawn a picture of the
danger, her Majesty will judge whether it is the time to deliberate, or rather
to act as ordained and prescribed her by divine and human counsel”.[319]
Pole was not alone in advising prompt and swift action. All over the
continent the same ignorance prevailed concerning the fact that England
was not the same country as in the days when Henry VIII. broke away from
Rome, and this mistaken notion as to Mary’s difficulties was not strange,
seeing that the Queen herself was still peacefully unaware of more than half
of them. The Papal nuncio in France, writing to the Cardinal del Monte,
said: “From England comes the news that the Queen is about to enter
London, beloved and revered by the people, not only as Queen but as a
saint. Her sister has arrived, and her Majesty caused her to be received most
honourably, a thousand horses with green and white velvet trappings being
sent to meet her. All the populace cry out that Northumberland, Suffolk and
Jane should have their heads cut off. It is believed that they poisoned the
late King. As soon as the Queen arrives in London, it is supposed that she
will have the marriage between her mother and father declared valid, and
she is said to desire it very much, and wills it to be declared by all
Parliaments and statutes, so that her mother’s and her own honour may be
fully satisfied. Another of her intentions is to re-establish religion under the
obedience of his Holiness, and the feeling of the realm is with her.” This
was all true enough, but to complete the picture, he should have added that
the Puritan Londoners were violently opposed to the old religion, that
Elizabeth was as hostile as she dared to be, and was already looked on as
the champion of the Protestant party, that the French ambassador played
into their hands, and was ready for any conspiracy.

The advice of the Emperor was preferred to all other. Next to Mary’s
devotion to her faith was her loyalty to the Hapsburgs. She had grown up in
the belief that Charles was her best friend and only refuge; and now
whenever she considered herself free to choose an independent policy, she
chose to follow his advice. Indeed, it is scarcely thinkable, that at thirty-
seven she should have awoke from the dream of a lifetime, by the mere fact
of ascending the throne. In many ways, the Emperor advised her well. He
had vast experience of the kind of religious revolution that was agitating the
greater part of Europe. He had been twice in England, but more perhaps by
his genius for government, and his habit of working out national problems
on paper, than by his actual knowledge of the English people, the
knowledge that comes from contact, did he realise the amount of pressure
that could with any chance of success be brought to bear upon them. So
long as he applied general principles in his advice to Mary, so long was his
guidance of service to her; but where his own interests were concerned, and
those of the empire, he ceased to consider her advantage at all, and involved
her in a policy that ultimately became her ruin. If he had so willed, she
would have gone to the block cheerfully for the principles for which More
and Fisher died; but her martyrdom would have availed the Emperor
nothing. Rather would it have embroiled him further with Henry, whose
friendship he was just then anxious to obtain. Therefore he did not scruple
to entangle her conscience in the meshes of an indefensible sophistry. When
Edward’s Council had brought the country to so miserable a condition that
the Government, neither feared nor respected abroad, dared not try
conclusions with him, it was a small matter for him to declare that he had
rather Mary died on the scaffold than abandon one jot or tittle of her faith.
Having therefore been the arbiter of her destiny during the years of her
bondage, it was not likely that he would cease to exercise his influence
when the majesty of England was centred in her person.
Although Mary had wished Edward’s obsequies to be performed in the
Catholic manner, when Charles represented to her that, as her brother had
died professing the new, reformed religion, she could not consistently have
him buried as a Catholic, she yielded to Cranmer’s objection to having a
Popish Mass said over his body. The Archbishop of Canterbury therefore
conducted his funeral, in accordance with the established form, in
Westminster Abbey, the Queen, at the same time, with 300 of the nobility

assisting at a solemn Dirge for his soul in St. John’s Chapel in the Tower.
Elizabeth refused to be present at the Mass of requiem,[320] and Renard
pressed Mary to take measures against her, declaring that her profession of
Protestantism was a decoy, to attract to herself the malcontents, and to form
a party in the State dangerous to peace and security.[321] After events proved
the truth of this opinion. Mary replied that she was thinking of sending her
sister away from the court; but, meanwhile, Elizabeth still remained, and
the Queen did her best to convert her.
The bulk of the nation heartily welcomed the return of the old worship,
but London was Protestant to the backbone. Something like a riot took
place on the occasion of an unauthorised celebration of Mass, in a church
near the Horse-market, and when Gilbert Bourne, Archdeacon of St. Paul’s,
attempted to preach at Paul’s Cross on the 13th August fresh disturbances
arose. The occasion was unfortunate, his theme dealing with the unjust
imprisonment of Bonner; and the preacher’s language became somewhat
inflammatory. “In this very place, upon this very day, four years afore
passed,” cried Bourne, “was the Bishop of London, who is here present,
most unjustly cast into the vile dungeon of the Marshalsea, among
thieves.”[322] Bonner was hated by the Londoners on account of his
uncompromising Papistry, and for what they considered his want of tact, in
his conduct towards Ridley, who had been intruded into his see, when
Edward deprived him for religion, and whom he now replaced. The sight of
him, as he sat listening to Bourne’s panegyric, incensed the partisans of
Ridley. As the preacher went on, low murmurs grew into fierce cries, and at
last a voice called out, “Pull him down!” A dagger was thrown at Bourne,
hit a post of the pulpit, and rebounded a great way. With difficulty Bourne
was conveyed to a place of safety in St. Paul’s School.[323] The following
Sunday, a detachment of the Queen’s guard was sent to protect the preacher,
[324]
but after this event, few came to listen to the discourses at Paul’s Cross,
and the Lord Mayor was ordered “to make the ancients of the companies
resort to the sermons, lest the preacher should be discouraged by a small
audience”.[325]
These riots produced the first tightening of the reins of government, a
measure which only led to further irritation. A royal proclamation was
issued, which although testifying to Mary’s benignity, describes the

tumultuous state of the metropolis. A part of it ran thus: “First, her Majesty
being presently, by the only goodness of God, settled in her just possession
of the imperial crown of this realm, and other dominions thereunto
belonging, cannot now hide that religion which God and the world knoweth
she hath ever professed from her infancy hitherto: which as her Majesty is
minded to observe and maintain for herself, by God’s grace, during her
time, so doth her Highness much desire and would be glad the same were of
all her subjects quietly and charitably embraced. And yet she doth signify
unto all her Majesty’s loving subjects, that of her most gracious disposition
and clemency, her Highness mindeth not to compel any her said subjects
thereunto, unto such time as further order, by common assent may be taken
therein: forbidding nevertheless all her subjects of all degrees, at their perils
to move seditions or stir unquietness in her people, by interpreting the laws
of this realm after their brains and fantasies, but quietly to continue for the
time till (as before is said) further order may be taken; and therefore willeth
and straitly chargeth and commandeth all her said good loving subjects, to
live together in quiet sort and christian charity, leaving those new found
devilish terms of papist or heretic and such like, and applying their whole
care, study and travail to live in the fear of God, exercising their
conversations in such charitable and godly doing, as their lives may indeed
express that great hunger and thirst of God’s glory and holy word, which by
rash talk and words many have pretended; and in so doing they shall best
please God, and live without danger of the laws, and maintain the
tranquillity of the realm,” etc., etc.[326]
This was published on the 18th August, but scarcely succeeded in
quieting men’s minds. Unauthorised Masses were constantly being said in
prominent places of worship hitherto given over to the services of the
established religion. Machyn’s Diary records the fact that on “the xxiii day
of August began the mass at Saint Nicholas Colabay, goodly sung in Latin,
and tapers and set on the altar, and a cross, in old Fish Street. Item the next
day a goodly mass sung at St. Nicholas Wyllms, in Latin, in Bread
Street.”[327]
To many, these things appeared quite otherwise than “goodly,” and there
was much murmuring at street corners and in taverns, angry discussions
that might easily end in brawls; and the forbidden words “papist” and
“heretic” were bandied about without much restraint. Consequently, every

householder was exhorted to “keep his children, apprentices and other
servants in such order and awe, as they follow their work the week days,
and keep their parish-churches the holy day, and otherwise to be suffered to
attempt nothing tending to the violation of common peace, and that for the
contrary, every one of them to stand charged for his children and servants”.
Meanwhile, all eyes were fixed on Cranmer. It is more than probable, that
if he had remained quiescent he would have been suffered to retire into
private life, or to betake himself to the continent like so many others of his
opinions. Strype says that he was called before the Council at the beginning
of August, to answer for his share in the late rebellion; that he was severely
reprimanded, and ordered to confine himself to his palace at Lambeth. But
this statement is unsupported by any evidence. There are no minutes of the
Privy Council between the 2nd and the 8th August, on which day Edward’s
funeral took place, when certainly Cranmer was not a prisoner either on
parole or otherwise. Strype seems to have been confused by a letter from
the Archbishop to Cecil, dated 14th August, in which he says that he has
been to court. This appearance in the Queen’s presence would account for
the report that was immediately circulated, to the effect that he had pledged
himself to Mary, to say Mass for her.[328] Disagreeable as the rumour must
have been to him in his position as reformer, worse was to follow. Mass had
once more been said in Canterbury Cathedral, and Cranmer was accredited
by the public voice with having said it. This was more than he could endure,
and fired with indignation, he took the first irrevocable step towards his
doom. Seizing his pen, he wrote the celebrated Declaration which, if the
Archbishop of Canterbury has any determining voice in the doctrine of the
Established Church of England, should for ever settle the question whether
that Church teaches belief in the Sacrifice of the Mass or not.
“As the devil, Christ’s ancient adversary is a liar and the father of lies,
even so hath he stirred up his servants and members to persecute Christ, and
his true word and religion, which he ceaseth not to do most earnestly at this
present. For whereas the most noble Prince of famous memory, King Henry
VIII., seeing the great abuses of the Latin masses, reformed something
herein, in his time; and also our late sovereign Lord, King Edward VI. took
the same whole away, for the manifold errors and abuses thereof, and
restored in the place thereof, Christ’s holy Supper, according to Christ’s
own institution, and as the apostles in the primitive church used the same in

the beginning, the devil goeth about by lying, to overthrow the Lord’s holy
Supper, and to restore the Latin satisfactory masses, a thing of his own
invention and device. And to bring the same more easily to pass, some have
abused the name of me Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, bruiting abroad
that I have set up the mass at Canterbury, and that I offered to say mass
before the Queen’s Highness, and at Paul’s church, and I wot not where. I
have been well exercised these twenty years to suffer and bear evil reports
and lies; and have not been mych grieved thereat, and have borne all things
quietly. Yet when untrue reports and lies turn to the hindrance of God’s
truth, they be in no wise to be tolerated and suffered. Wherefore, these be to
signify to the world, that it was not I that did set up the mass at Canterbury;
but it was a false, flattering, lying and dissembling monk which caused the
mass to be set up there, without my advice or counsel. [Here Foxe has the
words omitted by Strype, ‘Reddet illi Dominus in die illo’.] And as for
offering myself, to say mass before the Queen’s Highness, or in any other
place, I never did, as her Grace knoweth well. But if her Grace will give me
leave, I shall be ready to prove against all that will say the contrary, that the
Communion Book, set forth by the most innocent and godly Prince, King
Edward VI. in his high court of Parliament is conformable to the order
which our Saviour Christ did both observe and command to be observed,
and which his Apostles and primitive church used many years. Whereas the
mass in many things not only hath no foundation of Christ, his Apostles, nor
the primitive church, but also is manifest contrary to the same, and contains
many horrible blasphemies in it. And although many either unlearned or
maliciously do report that Mr. Peter Martyr[329] is unlearned, yet if the
Queen’s Highness will graunt thereunto, I with the said Mr. Peter Martyr,
and other four or five which I shall choose, will by God’s grace, take upon
us to defend that not only our Common Prayers of the churches,
ministration of sacraments, and other rites and ceremonies, but also that all
the doctrine and religion by our said sovereign lord King Edward VI. is
more pure and according to God’s word than any that hath been used in
England these thousand years; so that God’s word may be the judge, and
that the reason and proofs may be set out in writing, to the intent as well
that all the world may examine and judge them, as that no man shall start
back from their writing; and what faith hath been in the church these fifteen
hundred years, we will join them in this point, that the same doctrine and
usage is to be followed which was in the church fifteen hundred years past.