| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: 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
Author: Stone, J. M. (Jean Mary)
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "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" ***
THE HISTORY
OF
MARY I., QUEEN OF ENGLAND
[Illustration: 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 _To face page_ 46
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 " 262
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:
[Footnote 1: According to some accounts the 18th.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 3: Harl. MS. 3504, f. 232, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 4: Gius. Desp., i., 182, Venetian Archives.]
[Footnote 5: MS. in St. Mark’s Library, class vii., No. 1233.]
[Footnote 6: Gius. Desp., i., 90.]
[Footnote 7: _Ibid._, i., 77.]
[Footnote 8: Gius. Desp., i., 81.]
[Footnote 9: Brewer, _Letters and Papers of the Reign of Henry VIII.,
Cal._, i., 5203.]
[Footnote 10: Erasmus to Paul Bombasius (Brewer, _Letters and Papers_,
vol. ii., pt. ii., 4340).]
[Footnote 11: _Life of King Henry the Eighth_ (ed. 1649), p. 7.]
[Footnote 12: Add. MS. 21,404, 8, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 13: Egerton MS. 616, 35, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 15: _The King’s Household Book_, March 1516-17.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 17: Gius. Desp., ii., 95.]
[Footnote 18: Brewer, _Calendar of State Papers_, vol. ii., pt. ii.,
4687.]
[Footnote 19: Sanuto Diaries, vol. xxix., p. 155.]
[Footnote 20: MS. in St. Mark’s Library, class vii., No. 1233.]
[Footnote 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.).]
[Footnote 22: _Hall’s Chronicle_, p. 604.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 24: Rymer, xiii., 719.]
[Footnote 25: Cotton MS. Vesp. F. xiii., 129, Brit. Mus. Ellis’s
_Letters_, 1st series, i., 174.]
[Footnote 26: Cotton MS. Calig. D. vii., 231.]
[Footnote 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_).]
[Footnote 28: Brewer, _Calendar of State Papers_, vol. iii., pt. ii.,
1437, 1439, 1533.]
[Footnote 29: Cotton MS. Calig. E. i., art. 11, 46, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 30: Brewer, _Cal._, vol. iii., pt. ii., 2306.]
[Footnote 31: Cotton MS. Galba B. vii., 102, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 32: Rawdon Brown, _Venetian Calendar_, vol. iii., 852 note.]
[Footnote 33: Sanuto Diaries, vol. xxxix., p. 147.]
[Footnote 34: Cotton MS. Vesp. C. ii., 93*, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 35: Cotton MS. Calig. D. viii., 302, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 36: Westminster, 3rd April 1525, Record Office.]
[Footnote 37: Gayangos, _England and Spain, Cal._, vol. iii., pt. i.,
p. 82.]
[Footnote 38: Sanuto Diaries, vol. xl., p. 17.]
[Footnote 39: Cotton MS. Vesp. C. iii., f. 177, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 40: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. iii., pt. i., pp. 78, 191 _et
seq._ Brewer, _Cal._, vol. iv., pt. i., p. 662.]
[Footnote 41: Cotton MS. Vesp. C. iii., f. 62, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 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:
[Footnote 43: Harl. MS. 6807, f. 3, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 44: Sanuto Diaries, vol. xxxix., p. 356.]
[Footnote 45: Reading Abbey, 18th August 1525, Record Office.]
[Footnote 46: Sampson to Cardinal Wolsey. Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 314,
Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 47: R. Brereton of Chester to W. Brereton, Groom of the
King’s Privy Chamber, 25th August 1526, Record Office.]
[Footnote 48: Cotton MS. Vit. C. i., f. 36, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 51: _Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary_, Introductory
Memoir.]
[Footnote 52: For this prayer and Mary’s translation see Appendix A.]
[Footnote 53: Sanuto Diaries, vol. xliii., p. 55. Spinelli to the Doge,
11th Sept. 1526.]
[Footnote 54: Masters’ MS., f. 113.]
[Footnote 55: Dodieu’s _Narrative_.]
[Footnote 56: Sanuto Diaries, vol. xliv., p. 97.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 58: Sanuto Diaries, vol. xlv., pp. 194-198.]
[Footnote 59: _Venetian Calendar_, vol. iv., 105.]
[Footnote 60: Wolsey to Henry VIII., State Papers, i., 205, 206, 207,
230, 231, 270, R.O.]
[Footnote 61: Brewer, _Cal._, vol. iv., pt. ii., 3350.]
[Footnote 62: Diplomatic Contracts, box 39, No. 1112, Record Office.]
[Footnote 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]
[Illustration: 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:
[Footnote 64: _Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary_, Introductory
Memoir.]
[Footnote 65: _The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria_, p. 80 _et
seq._]
[Footnote 66: Brewer, _Cal._, vol. iv., pt. i., 1263.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 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._]
[Footnote 69: Brewer, _Cal._, vol. iv., pt. ii., 3231.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 71: Holograph letter in Latin, Record Office.]
[Footnote 72: Vives, _Opera_, vii., 134.]
[Footnote 73: Paul Friedmann, _Anne Boleyn_, vol. i., p. 128.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 75: Chapuys to Charles V., 29th April 1531, Vienna Archives.]
[Footnote 76: Gairdner, _Cal._, v., 308.]
[Footnote 77: Gairdner, _Cal._, v., 361.]
[Footnote 78: _Ibid._, vi., 347, 401, 426.]
[Footnote 79: _Venetian Calendar_, vol. iv., 682.]
[Footnote 80: An obvious mistake. He imagined that the Salic law
pertained in England.]
[Footnote 81: Sanuto Diaries, vol. lvii., p. 475.]
[Footnote 82: _Ibid._, vol. lviii., p. 125.]
[Footnote 83: Sanuto Diaries, vol. lviii.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 85: Sanuto Diaries, vol. lvi., p. 257.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 88: Add. MS. 28,581, fol. 262, B. M.]
[Footnote 89: Gairdner, _Cal._, v., 1131.]
[Footnote 90: _Apologia Reg., Pole ad Carolum V._ Four books on the
Unity of the Church.]
[Footnote 91: Camusat, 35.]
[Footnote 92: See Jewels Delivered to the King by Cornelius Hayes,
Record Office.]
[Footnote 93: Gairdner, _Cal._, v., 1377.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 96: Paul Friedmann, _Anne Boleyn_, vol. i., p. 182.]
[Footnote 97: Gairdner, _Cal._, vi., 83, 180.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 99: Gairdner, _Cal._, vi., 525-29.]
[Footnote 100: _Ibid._, pp. 150, 167, Chapuys to Charles V.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 102: Gayangos, _England and Spain, Cal._, vol. iv., pt. ii.,
1058.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 104: Gairdner, _Cal._, vi., 263, 266, 295.]
[Footnote 105: _Ibid._, vi., 918.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 107: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. iv., pt. ii., p. 795.]
[Footnote 108: Heylin, _History of Queen Mary_, 10.]
[Footnote 109: Pricks of conscience.]
[Footnote 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”.
[Illustration: 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:
[Footnote 111: Chapuys to Charles V., 3rd Nov. 1533, Vienna Archives.]
[Footnote 112: Gairdner, _Cal._, vi., 1528.]
[Footnote 113: Chapuys to Charles V., 23rd Dec. 1533, Vienna Archives.
Gairdner, _Cal._, vi., 1558.]
[Footnote 114: Gairdner, _Cal._, vi., 1558.]
[Footnote 115: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 83, 17th Jan. 1534.]
[Footnote 116: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 171.]
[Footnote 117: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 214.]
[Footnote 118: The Count of Cifuentes, Charles’s ambassador in Rome.]
[Footnote 119: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 225. Granvelle Papers, 11, 90.]
[Footnote 120: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 296, 7th March 1534.]
[Footnote 121: _Ibid._, 871, 23rd June 1534.]
[Footnote 122: The Emperor’s sister.]
[Footnote 123: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 1507, 5th Dec. 1534.]
[Footnote 124: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 232.]
[Footnote 125: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 530.]
[Footnote 126: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 662.]
[Footnote 127: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 1095.]
[Footnote 128: Probably a mistake for “the More”.]
[Footnote 129: Chapuys to Charles V., 24th Oct. 1534, Vienna Archives.
Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 1297.]
[Footnote 130: Gairdner, _Cal._, vii., 1193.]
[Footnote 131: Original, in Spanish, in Record Office. Gairdner,
_Cal._, vii., 1126.]
[Footnote 132: Original, in Spanish, in Record Office. Gairdner,
_Cal._, viii., 200.]
[Footnote 133: Gairdner, _Cal._, viii., 189.]
[Footnote 134: Gairdner, _Cal._, viii., 501.]
[Footnote 135: Page 81.]
[Footnote 136: Not Jane Seymour.]
[Footnote 137: Chapuys to Charles V., Vienna Archives, P.C., 229, 1,
fol. 139.]
[Footnote 138: Gairdner, _Cal._, viii., 556.]
[Footnote 139: Gairdner, _Cal._, viii., 590.]
[Footnote 140: Indictments of the 28th April 1535, Record Office.]
[Footnote 141: Gairdner, _Cal._, viii., 429.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 143: The Bishop of Tarbes to the Bailly of Troyes, Camusat,
21. Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. i., p. 551.]
[Footnote 144: Ortiz to the Empress, 22nd Nov. 1535, Add. MS. 28,588,
47, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 145: Gairdner, _Cal._, ix., 776, 861.]
[Footnote 146: _Ibid._, ix., 862.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 148: Luther’s _Briefe_, vol. iv., p. 667.]
[Footnote 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:
[Footnote 150: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 141.]
[Footnote 151: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 141.]
[Footnote 152: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 33, Charles V. to
the Empress, Naples, 1st Feb. 1536.]
[Footnote 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.”]
[Footnote 154: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 307. The original letter, in
French, is in the Vienna Archives.]
[Footnote 155: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 351.]
[Footnote 156: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 39.]
[Footnote 157: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 307.]
[Footnote 158: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 159: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 160: _Anne Boleyn_, vol. ii., p. 227.]
[Footnote 161: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 601.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 163: By Mr. Friedmann in his _Anne Boleyn_.]
[Footnote 164: Perhaps the most damning proof against her is the
fact that her daughter Elizabeth never made the least attempt to
rehabilitate her memory.]
[Footnote 165: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 908.]
[Footnote 166: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 127.]
[Footnote 167: Cotton MS. Otho. C. x., Brit. Mus. Burnet, vol. iv., p.
291.]
[Footnote 168: _Anne Boleyn_, vol. ii., p. 293.]
[Footnote 169: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 283; printed in Hearne’s
_Sylloge_, p. 140.]
[Footnote 170: Chapuys to Granvelle, 6th June 1536, Vienna Archives.
Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 574.]
[Footnote 171: Cotton MS. Otho. C. x. f. 230. Burnet, i., 320.]
[Footnote 172: Chapuys to Charles V., Despatch of the 19th May 1536,
Vienna Archives. Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 908.]
[Footnote 173: Crapelet, _Lettres de Henri VIII._ p. 167.]
[Footnote 174: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 726. Harl. MS. 282, f. 7, Brit.
Mus.]
[Footnote 175: Gairdner, _Cal._, x., 887. Vienna Archives, dated 15th
May 1536.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 177: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 283; printed in Hearne’s
_Sylloge_, p. 140.]
[Footnote 178: _Vide_ his letter to Charles V., p. 111.]
[Footnote 179: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 284. Hearne’s _Sylloge_, p.
146.]
[Footnote 180: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 265. Hearne, p. 147.]
[Footnote 181: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 286. Hearne, p. 148.]
[Footnote 182: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 287. Hearne, p. 149.]
[Footnote 183: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 271. Hearne, p. 124.]
[Footnote 184: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 270. Hearne, p. 126.]
[Footnote 185: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 272. Hearne, p. 127.]
[Footnote 186: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 280. Hearne, p. 137.]
[Footnote 187: Gairdner, _Cal._, xi., 7.]
[Footnote 188: Gairdner, _Cal._, xi., 7.]
[Footnote 189: Harl. MS. 283, f. 114^b, 112. Hearne, p. 142.]
[Footnote 190: Harl. MS. 283, f. 111^b. Hearne, p. 140.]
[Footnote 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]
[Illustration: 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:
[Footnote 192: Sm., vol. xlvii., f. 26, 2. Hearne, p. 144.]
[Footnote 193: Chapuys to Charles V., 8th July 1536, Vienna Archives.
Gairdner, _Cal._, xi., 40.]
[Footnote 194: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 199.]
[Footnote 195: Gairdner, _Cal._, xi., 219.]
[Footnote 196: Gairdner, _Cal._, xi., 221.]
[Footnote 197: Add. MS. 28,589, f. 44, Brit. Mus., Chapuys to the
Empress, 29th Aug. 1536.]
[Footnote 198: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 157.]
[Footnote 199: See an interesting letter from Lady Bryan to Cromwell,
appendix B.]
[Footnote 200: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 291. Hearne, p. 131.]
[Footnote 201: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 274. Hearne, p. 129.]
[Footnote 202: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 292. Hearne, 132.]
[Footnote 203: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 258.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 206: State Papers, i., 537, Record Office.]
[Footnote 207: Gairdner, _Cal._, xii., 498.]
[Footnote 208: Gairdner, _Cal._, xii., 384.]
[Footnote 209: Harl. MS. 282, f. 79, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 210: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 267. Vienna
Archives.]
[Footnote 211: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 270.]
[Footnote 212: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. v., pt. ii., p. 272.]
[Footnote 213: Belvoir MS., Hist. MSS. Comm., vol. i., p. 309 _et
seq._, Report xii., appendix iv.]
[Footnote 214: Harl. MS. 282, f. 34.]
[Footnote 215: Harl. MS. 282, f. 257.]
[Footnote 216: Record Office, State Papers, viii., 1.]
[Footnote 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.
[Illustration:
_Walker & Cockerell, Photographers, London._
THE PRINCESS MARY AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-EIGHT.
From the original painting in the National Portrait Gallery.]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 219: _Correspondance Politique de MM. de Castillon et de
Marillac, ambassadeurs de France en Angleterre_, p. 349.]
[Footnote 220: P. 63. The _Household Book of Queen Mary_ mentions (pp.
119, 126 and 184) the names of Mabel and Elizabeth Sydney.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 222: Smith MS. lxviii., f. 15, Bodleian Library. Printed in
_Letters of Royal and Illustrious Ladies_, vol. iii., p. 15.]
[Footnote 223: Don Diego and Chapuys to Charles V., 31st August 1538,
Vienna Archives.]
[Footnote 224: Gairdner, _Cal._, xiii., pt. i., 647.]
[Footnote 225: Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 465, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 226: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 277, Brit. Mus. Printed in
Hearne’s _Sylloge_, 135.]
[Footnote 227: Cromwell’s Memorial of Instructions to his friend
Christopher Mount. Cotton MS. Vit. B. xxi., f. 159, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 228: Cotton MS. Vit. B. xxi., f. 86, 18th March 1539.]
[Footnote 229: _Correspondance Politique de M. de Marillac_, p. 275.]
[Footnote 230: Gairdner, _Cal._, xiv., pt. i., 980.]
[Footnote 231: Gairdner, _Cal._, xiv., pt. ii., 212.]
[Footnote 232: Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 489, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 233: Gairdner, _Cal._, xvi., 897, Chapuys to the Queen of
Hungary, 10th June 1541.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 235: Smith MS. xlvii., fol. 31-2. Hearne’s _Sylloge_, p. 149.]
[Footnote 236: Smith MS. lxviii., fol. 17. Printed in _Letters of Royal
and Illustrious Ladies_, vol. iii., p. 89.]
[Footnote 237: _Correspondance Politique_, p. 148.]
[Footnote 238: _Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary_, p. 176.]
[Footnote 239: Cotton MS. Titus B. i., 409.]
[Footnote 240: Cromwell to Henry VIII., Hatfield MS.]
[Footnote 241: _Correspondance Politique de Castillon et de Marillac_,
p. 189.]
[Footnote 242: _Correspondance Politique de Castillon et de Marillac_,
p. 193.]
[Footnote 243: The whole account is to be found in Gairdner’s _Calendar
of State Papers of the year 1540_.]
[Footnote 244: _Cranmer’s Works_, p. 401.]
[Footnote 245: Wallop and Carne to Henry VIII., State Papers, viii.,
376 and 387, Record Office.]
[Footnote 246: Cotton MS. Vesp. F. xiii., art. 223, fol. 202. Printed
in _Letters of Royal and Illustrious Ladies_, vol. ii., p. 320.]
[Footnote 247: _Correspondance Politique_, p. 258.]
[Footnote 248: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., p. 16.]
[Footnote 249: Gayangos, _Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., p. 190.]
[Footnote 250: Cotton MS. Vesp. F. iii., art. 35, fol. 29.]
[Footnote 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]
[Illustration: [++] FACSIMILE OF MARY’S LETTER]
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.
[Illustration: 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:
[Footnote 252: Harl. MS. 5087, art. vi., Brit. Mus. Ellis’s _Letters_,
ii., 134, 1st series.]
[Footnote 253: _Letters of the Kings of England_, vol. ii., p. 8,
edited by J. O. Halliwell.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 256: Ellis’s _Letters_, vol. ii., p. 151, 1st series.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 258: Leti, _Historia di Elisabetta_, vol. i., p. 180. Printed
in _Letters of Royal and Illustrious Ladies_, vol. iii., p. 193.]
[Footnote 259: Record Office, State Papers, vol. vi., 19, 20, 21, 22
Feb. 1549.]
[Footnote 260: _Journal of King Edward’s Reign, written in the King’s
own hand._]
[Footnote 261: Burnet, _History of the Reformation_, vol. ii., p. 187.]
[Footnote 262: _Latimer’s Sermons_, 1st edition, 4th sermon. The
passage was expunged in the later editions.]
[Footnote 263: Add. MS. 5151, f. 308, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 264: _Statutes of the Realm_, iv., 110.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 266: _Acts of the Privy Council_, new series, vol. ii., p.
312, edited by John Roche Dasent.]
[Footnote 267: Lansdowne MS. 1236, f. 28, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 268: Lemon, Dom., _Edward VI._, vol. i., p. 22, art. 51.]
[Footnote 269: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. ii., p. 291, new
series.]
[Footnote 270: Foxe, vol. vi., p. 12.]
[Footnote 271: _Journal of King Edward’s Reign_, 21.]
[Footnote 272: Turnbull, _Cal. State Papers_, Edward VI., Foreign,
1547-53, p. 75.]
[Footnote 273: Turnbull, _Cal. State Papers_, Edward VI., Foreign,
1547-53, p. 137.]
[Footnote 274: Turnbull, _Cal. State Papers_, Edward VI., Foreign,
1547-53, p. 137.]
[Footnote 275: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. iii., p. 239, new
series.]
[Footnote 276: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 277: _Ibid._, p. 240.]
[Footnote 278: _Ibid._, p. 329.]
[Footnote 279: Harl. MS. 352, f. 186. Ellis’s _Letters_, vol. ii., p.
176, 1st series.]
[Footnote 280: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. iii., p. 336 _et
seq._, new series.]
[Footnote 281: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. iii., p. 348 _et seq._]
[Footnote 282: Turnbull, _Cal. State Papers_, Foreign, p. 53. Strype,
_Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. ii., pt. i., p. 457.]
[Footnote 283: Lansdowne MS. 2, f. 141.]
[Footnote 284: Foxe, _Acts and Monuments_, vol vi., p. 354, Cattley’s
ed.]
[Footnote 285: _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. ii., pt. i., p. 444.]
[Footnote 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:
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 288: “A sketch of Hengrave Hall, Suffolk,” by Sir Henry
Rookwood Gage.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 291: Cotton MS. Vit. F. xii., Brit. Mus. Printed in the
_Chronicle of Queen Jane and Two Years of Queen Mary_, p. 110,
appendix.]
[Footnote 292: Holinshed, 1084.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 294: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, p. 39.]
[Footnote 295: Foxe, vol. vi., p. 385.]
[Footnote 296: Stow, 610, 611.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 299: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 8.]
[Footnote 300: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, i., p. 222.]
[Footnote 301: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. iv., p. 297.]
[Footnote 302: Harl. MS. 353, f. 139 _et seq._, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 303: _The Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 11.]
[Footnote 304: _Acts and Monuments_, vol. vi., p. 388.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 306: The draft is the Lansdowne MS. 3, f. 24, the copy with
Jane’s signature No. 1236 in the same collection.]
[Footnote 307: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. i., p. 225.]
[Footnote 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.]
[Footnote 309: The Ambassadors of Charles V. to their Master, 6th
August 1553, Record Office.]
[Footnote 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).]
[Footnote 311: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. i., p. 228.]
[Footnote 312: Harl. MS. 284, f. 127, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 313: Foxe says that he was induced to make this profession
by a promise of pardon; but this assumption appears to be purely
gratuitous.]
[Footnote 314: Pollini, p. 355. For the text of this letter see
Appendix C to this volume.]
[Footnote 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. And we shall prove that the order of
the church set out at this present, in this church of England by Act
of Parliament, is the same that was used in the church fifteen hundred
years past—and so shall they never be able to prove theirs.”[330]
This document was copied in all the scriveners’ shops in London,
circulated widely and posted up in Cheapside. Foxe, with his wonted
inaccuracy, says that the Archbishop was, in consequence, summoned
before the Commissioners of St. Paul’s, and interrogated by Bishop
Heath, and by Scory, Bishop of Rochester. Now Scory was not at that
time Bishop of Rochester, neither was Heath on the Commission, but at
the Council Board, which he joined on the 4th September. Moreover, when
on other occasions Cranmer was summoned before the Commissioners, he
did not appear personally but by proxy. For “Commissioners” we must
therefore read “Council”.
“My Lord,” said Bishop Heath gently, “there is a bill put forth in your
name, wherein you seem to be aggrieved at setting up Mass again. We
doubt not but you are sorry that it is gone abroad.”
“As I do not deny myself to be the very author of that bill or letter,”
replied Cranmer, “so must I confess here unto you, that I am sorry
that the said bill went from me in such sort as it did. For when I had
written it, Master Scory got the copy of me, and it is now come abroad,
and as I understand, the city is full of it. For which I am sorry that
it is so passed my hands, for I had intended otherwise to have made it
in a more large and ample manner, and minded to have set it on Paul’s
church door, and on the doors of all the churches in London, with mine
own seal joined thereto.”
He was then ordered to appear the following day in the Star Chamber,
and, after a long and serious debate, was committed to the Tower, “as
well for the treason committed by him against the Queen’s Highness, as
for the aggravating the same his offence by spreading abroad seditious
bills, moving tumults, to the disquietness of the present State”.[331]
The Archbishop had had ample opportunity for flight had he been so
inclined, but he persistently refused to take advantage of it, though
he advised others in like danger to escape to the continent.[332] Great
numbers did so, and went to Strassburg, Antwerp, Worms, Frankfort or
Geneva, in all of which cities the new doctrines obtained. Among the
fugitives were the Bishops of Winchester, Wells, Chichester, Exeter and
Ossory; the Dean of Christ Church, Oxford, and those of Westminster,
Exeter, Durham, Wells and Chichester; and the Archbishop’s brother
Edmund, Archdeacon of Canterbury.[333] Peter Martyr also applied for
passports which were granted without reluctance, and five days after
Cranmer’s committal, he left England “with great safety and unnecessary
precaution”.[334] The government apparently connived also at Latimer’s
escape, for the Bishop received warning of the coming of a pursuivant
from the Council. The pursuivant did no more than deliver a letter
and depart, after which plenty of time was left, in the hope that he
would take flight. But he did not budge, and accordingly, on the 13th
September, the Council Register states that “This day Hugh Latimer,
clerk, appeared before the lords, and for his seditious demeanour
was committed to the Tower, there to remain a close prisoner, having
attending upon him one Austin, his servant”.[335]
Mary was Queen, but not entirely mistress of her kingdom. De Noailles
was careful to keep the coals stirred continually, and was responsible
for at least half the discontent that prevailed in London. Elizabeth,
whose vanity prompted her to pose as the centre of attraction
everywhere, coquetted with the French ambassador, with the populace,
with the leaders of the Protestant party, without committing herself
to any overt act of rebellion. She was already mistress in the arts
of innuendo, dissimulation and intrigue. The treachery of de Noailles
made her the stalking-horse of the Reformers, although the ambassador
expressed to his master a fear, that her obstinacy in refusing to go
to Mass would shortly land her in the Tower.[336] But he was not even
sincere in his treachery, for lightly as he imperilled Elizabeth’s life
by encouraging the Princess to associate herself with the factious, it
was scarcely his aim in the event of a successful insurrection to place
her on the throne. Mary Queen of Scots was Mary Tudor’s next legitimate
heir, and as the wife of the Dauphin would, if she mounted the throne
of England, bring to a glorious end the humiliation under which the
French had smarted for centuries, in seeing the English monarchs, their
rivals, quartering the arms, and coolly assuming the style of Kings
of France. But of these ulterior views the ambassador’s friends in
England were totally ignorant, and perhaps even Elizabeth, with all
her cleverness, was at least once in her life completely outwitted. It
was constantly represented to the Queen, that her sister’s attitude
was a serious danger to the government, and the imperial ambassadors
urged that the Princess should be banished from London, where she was
surrounded by partisans, and if she would not conform to the Catholic
faith, it would be better for her to be in prison than out of it.
Mary, loth to coerce, tried to persuade her by the force of example,
and would hear five or six Masses daily, surrounded by the members
of her Privy Council, all of whom had been, till recently, ardent
Protestants.[337] Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves were the only persons at
court who still held out. At last, alarmed at the sinister reports that
reached her, Mary told her sister, that if she wished to remain near
her person, she must break with the new doctrines, and with those who
professed them.
Considering then, that she had done enough to exculpate herself in the
eyes of those who had been carefully taught to look on her as their
Joshua, Elizabeth threw herself at the Queen’s feet, and with streaming
eyes expressed her sorrow at having seemingly lost her Majesty’s
affection. She could account for it, she declared, in no other way than
her profession of the reformed religion, for which, however, she ought
to be excused, as having been brought up in it, and never taught any
other. Perhaps, she pleaded, if she were provided with books, and aided
by the instructions of divines, she might see her errors, and embrace
the religion of her fathers. Her conversion was the work of a week.
She went to Mass with the Queen, on the 8th September, and soon after,
opened a chapel in her own house, and sent to Flanders for a chalice,
cross and vestments.[338] De Noailles, without laying claim to great
sagacity, might well express his opinion that all this proceeded more
from policy than from any deep religious conviction. Up to the last
moment before going to Mass, Elizabeth did all she could to persuade
her Protestant friends that she was merely acting under compulsion.
Even on her way to the chapel, she sighed and groaned, and gave out
that she was ill. Renard too, doubted the sincerity of her conversion,
especially as she did not appear at Mass on the Sundays following, and
he besought the Queen to secure her person, as a frequenter and abettor
of rebels. Mary assured him that she had also had grave misgivings, had
already sent for her sister and implored her to say frankly whether
she was a Catholic and shared the Catholic belief in the Eucharist, or
whether, as it had been affirmed, her conversion were a feint or the
result of fear. Elizabeth, the Queen said, had professed herself ready
to declare in public that she had acted in accordance with the dictates
of her conscience, without feint, fear or dissimulation; but in saying
these words she had trembled from head to foot.[339] Renard and his
colleagues continued to regard her as the champion of the disaffected,
and were careful to bring to the Queen’s notice the persistent rumours
concerning her. But Mary, on her guard perhaps, lest she should lend a
too willing ear, as persistently refused to act upon them, continued to
call Elizabeth her “good sister,” held her by the hand at all the great
court ceremonies, and showered kindnesses and gifts upon her. Among
other jewels, she gave her a brooch about this time, representing the
story of Pyramus and Thisbe, with a magnificent table diamond, and four
rubies; two volumes bound in massive gold, the one set with rubies,
with a diamond clasp, the other containing the portraits of Mary’s
father and mother; a white coral rosary mounted in gold, etc.[340]
Either from fear of displeasing the Puritans by ornamenting herself
with gems, or for some other reason, Elizabeth avoided either wearing
or using her sister’s presents.[341]
One of the distinguishing features of the new reign was the style of
dress adopted by the court. By restoring something of the splendour
that had distinguished it in the early days of Henry VIII., by bringing
dancing and music again into vogue, and by abolishing the sombre
Puritanical fashion of Edward’s reign, Mary had given a much-needed
impetus to trade, and while she offended some by her sumptuous attire,
the change found favour with the many, weary of the dull, colourless
garments, which for six years had been supposed to indicate a state of
salvation. De Noailles told his master that the Queen had abolished the
former “_superstition_” regarding ladies’ dress, which had forbidden
them hitherto to wear gold ornaments or coloured clothes, and that her
Majesty herself, and the ladies of the court were adorned with jewels
and dressed _à la française_, with wide sleeves to their gowns.[342]
In consequence of the revival of industries, money at once began to
circulate more freely, and this naturally exercised a beneficial effect
on the nation at large, long the prey of poverty and discontent. Those
only had been satisfied who were enriched by the plunder of churches
and monasteries. The monopoly of land having been one of Henry’s
chief objects in seizing Church property, every stray piece of waste
ground was enclosed and rack-rented, so that the poor man, who had
hitherto been able to keep a cow and a few sheep, could not afterwards
so much as find food for a goose or a hen. The fishing population,
since days of abstinence from meat were no longer obligatory, suffered
as much as the country people, for the fisheries declined, through
want of a market to dispose of the smack-loads with which the ports
were glutted. The suppression of the religious houses affected the
arts and crafts throughout the country. Nine years afterwards, at
the beginning of Edward’s reign, it was found necessary to deal with
vagrancy by legislation. The indigent had become the great bulk of
the nation, while those who had grown rich with the wealth which had
formerly been distributed at the convent gates, thought of nothing
less than of feeding the hungry. Stringent poor-laws were enacted,
but failed to meet the difficulty. A vagrant might be pressed into
the service of any person who met him on the King’s highway. If he
refused to do the work assigned to him, how vile soever it might
be, he was branded with the letter V, and adjudged a slave for two
years, to be fed on bread and water and refuse meat. A first attempt
at escape was punished by the slave being branded with an S, after
which he was kept a slave for life. A second attempt resulted in a
felon’s death. From all this Mary delivered her people. Poverty under
her was no longer considered a crime, and if there is one special
reason more than another for honouring her memory it is her love and
care for the poor and afflicted, of which we shall presently see many
examples.[343] But besides the able-bodied vagrants, a vast number of
feeble, halt, blind and wretched vagabonds lay and crept begging in
the miry streets of London and Westminster. Money, urgently needed to
reanimate commerce, and pay the debts of the Crown, had been squandered
in the erection of expensive public buildings. In Sorranzo’s report
on England in 1553, the Venetian ambassador says of London, that on
the banks of the river were many fine palaces, making a grand show,
but that the rest of the city was much disfigured by the ruins of a
multitude of churches and monasteries, belonging heretofore to friars
and nuns. The population was dense, numbering 180,000 souls.[344]
Mary found, not merely an impoverished exchequer, but a mass of royal
debts. In 1551 Edward’s liabilities had amounted to £241,179 14s.
10d.; in 1553 they still exceeded £190,000.[345] Immediately on her
accession, the Queen acknowledged herself answerable for the salaries,
three years in arrear, of all the Crown officials, although she had
no longer a private purse; and while one royal proclamation restored
a depreciated currency, setting forth the Queen’s “tender care to her
loving subjects,” adding how sensible she was of “the great intolerable
charges had come to her subjects by base money,”[346] another remitted
two odious and oppressive taxes levied by the late Parliament. These
were subsidies of four shillings in the pound on land, and two
shillings and eightpence on goods, a burden that had weighed heavily on
the small merchants and farmers.
Mary’s scrupulous justice and honesty left little wherewith to make a
show of generosity. It had ever been the custom for English monarchs to
reward those who had fought in their quarrel, with rich gifts of land
and money, but clamour as her friends might, the Queen would not make
grants of Church property, and there were few other resources at her
command. “She is so poor,” said de Noailles, “that her want of money is
apparent, even to the dishes put upon her table.”
Her choice of Gardiner as Chancellor was fortunate for the
rehabilitation of the public finances. His ability in this direction
was undeniable, his integrity known to all, and while he lived, however
low the state of her coffers, Mary was never in debt. An Englishman
to a fault, rough, uncouth and frank, often to incivility, Gardiner
was liked by few. Both the French and Imperial ambassadors hated him
cordially. Renard added distrust to his relations with him, remembering
the active part which he had taken in the divorce of Queen Katharine,
and in the declaration of the royal supremacy. He could not believe in
the sincerity of the man, who was in reality burning with desire to
prove it. But apart from his past history, Gardiner’s actual attitude
was an obstacle to imperial interests in England. His patriotism, no
less than his honesty and common sense, led him to discern that no
matrimonial alliance, however brilliant, would be acceptable to the
nation, if contracted with a foreigner. Fear and abhorrence of any
“foreign potentate” having jurisdiction in this realm had become part
and parcel of that insular prejudice, which had sprung up since the
separation from Rome, a prejudice which Mary underrated, if she did
not entirely ignore it, while Renard, to make the situation acute,
was entrusted with a secret mission from the Emperor to bring about
a marriage between her and his son, the Prince of Spain. There were
henceforth three antagonistic parties in the State—the Spanish, the
loyal English headed by Gardiner, and the disloyal, leagued secretly
with the French.
To de Noailles, polished, urbane and ceremonious, an ultra Frenchman,
the Chancellor was peculiarly obnoxious. Gardiner had always had
a reputation for want of courtesy, and on his release, the French
ambassador was the first to observe that imprisonment had not
civilised him.[347] But if these two, who were working to some extent
for the same ends,[348] had joined forces, they might together have
defeated the Emperor’s schemes. They were however natural enemies, the
invincible element of deceit and treachery in de Noailles revolting
Gardiner, even more than his own want of tact disgusted the Frenchman.
Pugnacious, outspoken, and strong in the integrity of his intention,
the Chancellor held his own in the Council, although he was opposed
throughout by Arundel and Paget, who favoured the imperial policy.
But highly as she esteemed him for his probity, he was powerless to
influence the Queen. The subject of her marriage exercised the minds
of all parties in the State. Even her ladies talked to her of nothing
else, and Mary herself, who had hitherto preferred to remain unmarried,
acquiesced in the general understanding, that it was for the common
weal she should now choose a husband. Before her public entry into
London, Renard had secretly waited upon her at New Hall, to treat of
the matter. She had told him, that before succeeding to the throne,
she had resolved to end her days as a celibate, but that now another
duty had been imposed on her. She was resolved, she said, to follow
the Emperor’s advice, and to choose the consort whom he approved, for
after God, she desired to obey him as a father. Only she besought him
to consider her age, and not to press her to treat of matrimony with
any whom she had not seen and heard. She gave Renard to understand
that she had not been deceived by the Emperor’s feigned advice to her
ambassadors at Brussels, that she should marry one of her own nobles,
and that she even suspected them of having interpolated the sentence in
which it was contained, to suit their own inclinations. On receiving
Renard’s letter, containing an account of this audience, Charles
replied that the Queen plainly showed by what she had said, that she
inclined towards marriage with a foreigner.[349]
A few days later (according to de Noailles, on the 12th August) Mary
repeated formally what she had already said to Renard, that for State
reasons she had resolved to marry, and that seeing no suitable match in
her own kingdom, she would form an alliance with a foreigner, trusting
that the Emperor would propose a Catholic, and arrange for her to see
and speak with the aspirant to her hand. She stipulated earnestly that
he should not be too young.[350]
Among the prisoners already mentioned as having been liberated on
her accession was Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis of Exeter.
Descended like his cousin, Reginald Pole, from the royal family,
through his mother, Courtenay possessed advantages of birth sufficient
to justify his being put forward as a candidate for the Queen’s favour;
but in spite of all that has been written on the subject, it is more
than doubtful, whether Mary, even for a moment, thought seriously of
marrying him. With the whole Renard correspondence before us, it seems
certain that from the beginning she had placed her destiny in the hands
of the Emperor, and was resolved to abide by his choice.
Courtenay was handsome and fascinating in appearance, of noble carriage
and distinguished manners; at the time of his release from the Tower,
he was twenty-six years old, fourteen of which had been spent in
prison. The Queen, as if she could not do enough to compensate him for
the long injustice he had suffered, lavished honours and benefits upon
him. She restored to him the earldom of Devon, and his confiscated
estates of the marquisate of Exeter; and de Noailles surmised that,
had he continued to deserve favours, the dukedom of York was in store
for him.[351] His mother was made first lady of the court, and slept
with the Queen. Courtenay became for a time the idol of the people,
who would gladly have seen him married to their sovereign; but the
idea probably originated with Gardiner, who had conceived an affection
for the young man during their common imprisonment. He did his utmost
to induce Mary to marry him, and had Courtenay proved himself worthy,
and had the Chancellor and de Noailles worked in concert, she might
possibly have raised him to the throne, their united action overcoming
the Emperor’s influence, but there was no foundation for de Noailles’
absurd theory that she was in love with him. Scarcely was he out of
the Tower, than intoxicated with his first sweet draught of freedom,
he abandoned himself to every kind of dissipation, and frequented the
loosest company. London echoed with tales of his excesses.
Even in those early days, his name was as often coupled with
Elizabeth’s as with the Queen’s, and at the beginning of August, the
imperial ambassadors told Mary that Courtenay and her sister were in
collusion. They were careful also to keep her informed of his new
way of life, which caused her great indignation, though de Noailles
persisted in declaring that she was so deeply enamoured of him,
that she would put up with all his licentiousness, and marry him in
spite of everything. Unfounded as these assertions were, they gained
considerable credence at home and abroad, and Prosper de Sainte Croix
wrote to Cardinal del Monte, that it was very likely that the Queen
of England would decide on Courtenay as a husband, as she had lately
given him a diamond worth 16,000 crowns, which King Henry used to wear.
But while Mary declared in public, that it was not to her honour to
marry a subject, she told her friends privately that his immorality
would alone prove a sufficient barrier. The French ambassador was not
so blinded by his illusion, as not to perceive that Courtenay was fast
ruining whatever prospects he might have had, and with facile diplomacy
he caught the ball at the rebound, and still carried on the game in
the interests of France. If Mary’s disappointed suitor were not to
be a convenient foil to Spain, by marrying the Queen, he might still
be valuable as a name to conjure with in connection with Elizabeth.
If only he were a little more enterprising and a trifle less timid,
Courtenay and Elizabeth might well lay themselves out for popularity
among the discontented Protestants. De Noailles entertained him at a
banquet, under cover of his belonging to the Queen’s Privy Council,
flattered and encouraged him, and let fall a few tentative words,
to the effect that he should push his fortunes. A few days later,
Courtenay was seen leaving the French ambassador’s house disguised, at
midnight.
Meanwhile Gardiner, and with him most of the loyalists, disappointed
in the new Earl of Devon, looked to Reginald Pole as their next best
hope. Mary was known to have an affectionate regard for her kinsman,
and she owed him, moreover, a debt of gratitude. It will be remembered
that there had been once before a question of their marriage. But
Pole, although not yet irrevocably pledged to the ecclesiastical state,
being only in minor orders, was without ambition, and had no desire for
matrimony. He even thought that the Queen, being of the age she was,
should remain single, and leave the succession to take its course; and
he charged his friend, Pedro Soto, to say this to the Emperor. But the
Council were greatly concerned to negotiate a suitable match, and the
only two eligible Englishmen being henceforth out of the reckoning,
they turned their attention successively to the King of Denmark,
the Infant of Portugal, the Prince of Piedmont and to Ferdinand of
Austria, King of the Romans. But during this time, Renard was not idle.
Having sounded Mary with regard to the Prince of Spain, he proceeded
diligently to combat her objections. In his first interview at New
Hall, he had merely put forward the suggestion of a marriage; by
degrees Philip’s name was introduced, and when he judged that the time
was come for delivering the Emperor’s message, he flattered himself
that the day was won, because she smiled as she listened. Writing to
the Bishop of Arras, Cardinal Granvelle, he said, “Je connais ladite
reine, tant facile, tant bonne, tant peu expérimentée des choses du
monde et d’état, tant novice en toutes choses.... Et pour vous dire
confidemment ce que me semble d’elle, je suis en opinion que si Dieu ne
la garde, elle se trouvera trompée et abusée, soit par pratiques des
Français, soit par conspirations particulières de ceux du pays, soit
par poison ou autrement.”[352]
Mary has been represented by some modern historians as eagerly desiring
the marriage with Philip, as greedily swallowing the tempting bait, her
passion overleaping every obstacle. Nothing is farther from the truth,
and those who have carefully followed her career step by step hitherto,
will readily acknowledge, that such a reading of her character is
altogether at variance with the whole tenour of her life. With regard
to this marriage, she saw difficulties on all sides, and observed
to Renard that the suitors proposed to her were so young that she
might be the mother of them all, and reminded him that his Highness,
the Prince of Spain, was twelve years younger than herself. She also
objected that he would naturally wish to pass much of his time in
Spain, ordering and administering the affairs of his kingdom, and that
this would constitute an immense drawback to the marriage, adding that
she had never seriously contemplated matrimony until God had promoted
her to the Crown, nor felt affection for any man.[353]
After this interview, Renard thought that Mary was more inclined to
the Emperor’s brother, Ferdinand of Austria, who had attained the
mature age of fifty, than to Philip, who was no older than Courtenay,
but he thought, too, that Ferdinand’s son, Maximilian, had also a
fair chance. Nevertheless, he ceased not to sing Philip’s praises,
and before long, all London was in possession of the secret, that the
Emperor was soliciting the Queen’s hand for his son. None scrupled to
express a disapproval, which became general hostility, when de Noailles
had dexterously insinuated, that the coming of Philip as their King
would mean ruin to the English, followed by the establishment of the
Inquisition. To his master he observed reasonably enough, that the
Spanish marriage of the Queen would be “to the great displeasure of
all, with perpetual war against your Majesty, the Scotch and her own
subjects, who will unwillingly suffer the rule of a foreigner”.[354]
The simmering discontent was momentarily allayed by the prospect of the
Queen’s coronation on the 1st October, and by the issuing far and wide
of writs for the assembling of Parliament on the 4th.
The Londoners had ever loved a spectacle, and having been deprived
for six years of every outward and visible sign of rejoicing, their
whole energies were now turned to the devising of a succession of
brilliant pageants, wherein they proposed to do honour to the Queen.
They flattered themselves that at the meeting of Parliament, all
difficulties would be adjusted.
The Queen, entirely occupied with the solemnity before her, had applied
through Renard to the Bishop of Arras, Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle,
to procure the chrism to be used in her anointing. The Bishop, in
sending the three different unctions necessary, excused himself for
not enclosing them in a more costly box, saying that, as no artist
(_nul maistre_) had been willing to undertake the preparation of a
more ornate receptacle in less than three weeks, he sent the box which
he usually carried about with him, choosing to execute her Majesty’s
commission in a rough and ready manner, rather than to fail altogether
by being too late.[355] On the same day the Papal Nuncio told Cardinal
del Monte, that Mary had resolved no longer to style herself supreme
Head of the Church of England, but simply Queen of France and England,
that she had caused coin to be struck with her effigy on one side,
and on the other, the legend _Veritas temporis filia_, that she had
abrogated several taxes, and had ordered that Mass should again be
offered throughout the kingdom.
At two o’clock on the afternoon of the 30th September the Queen left
the Tower, and passed through the city to her coronation in Westminster
Abbey. Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves followed Mary’s chariot, which was
covered with cloth of gold, in one only a little less splendid, covered
with cloth of silver. After them came the ladies of the court. “All
the streets from the Tower to Temple Bar were richly hung with divers
costly pageants.”[356]
That night, the court remained at Westminster Palace, and the next
day, all walked in solemn procession on foot to the Abbey, where Mary
was crowned by Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester; the Archbishop
of Canterbury, on whom the office would naturally have fallen, being
in prison. To a superficial observer all would have appeared as
satisfactory as possible; the cheers of the people were hearty and
spontaneous, and the Queen, deeply impressed by the significance of
the act she was accomplishing, was yet not so entirely wrapt in her
devotions, but that she had a kindly look and smile for the crowd that
pressed round her on all sides. Behind her stood Elizabeth, and Anne of
Cleves, both Princesses wearing dresses of crimson velvet trimmed with
ermine; on their heads were crowns of gold, ablaze with precious stones
of great size and value. The Queen’s crown, sceptre, sword and other
insignia of the regal office were carried by the highest dignitaries
in the State. Renard watched Elizabeth closely, and noticed signs of
intelligence between her and the French ambassador. After the ceremony,
as the royal procession was moving towards Westminster Hall, he heard
her complain to de Noailles of the weight of the crown she was wearing.
“Have patience,” he replied, “it is only the preliminary to one that
will sit more lightly.”[357]
On Thursday, the 5th October, the first Parliament of Mary’s reign met
“to consider chiefly the restoration of religion”.
Great interest had been taken throughout the realm, in the election of
the 430 members who made up on the opening day an unusually full House.
Even Froude, who will not be suspected of partiality, admits[358] that
“on the whole it was perhaps the fairest election which had taken place
for many years”.
Mary opened Parliament in person, “the Queen riding from Whitehall in
her Parliament robes, with all the lords spiritual and temporal in
their Parliament robes; and had a solemn Mass of the Holy Ghost sung
in Westminster Church, with a sermon made by Dr. Heath, Bishop of
Chichester”.[359]
Afterwards, the Lord Chancellor, addressing both Houses, extolled the
virtue, piety and clemency of their sovereign. The speech was received
with enthusiasm, and hopes were entertained that the Queen’s measures
would be passed without opposition. Five days later, Mary sent down
a bill for the abrogation of all laws concerning religion that had
been passed during the two preceding reigns, one clause of the bill
dealing especially with her mother’s divorce, and the question of her
own legitimacy. The peers passed it without debate, but in the Lower
House some stormy scenes attended the reading. The Commons had imagined
that Mary would be content to restore religion to the condition in
which her father had left it, and now they perceived, in the proposed
abrogation of the decree of divorce, not merely a recognition of
the Pope’s dispensing power, but an attempt to re-establish his
jurisdiction in England. For this, the majority of the nation were
unprepared. For twenty years and more, the Pope’s authority had been
treated with contempt, his jurisdiction denied, his claims ridiculed,
his name converted into a mark of infamy, and only mentioned with the
foulest abuse. The language of the Reformers admirably promoted the
effect which Henry VIII. wished to produce on the national mind, and
by constant repetition of every scurrilous term of opprobrium, they
had gained the popular ear. Few, at the beginning of Mary’s reign,
were of so judicial a mind as to distinguish the real Pope from the
bugbear that had been set up. Moreover, at the back of the prejudice
lurked the fear, as yet vague and undefined, of a possible contingency,
involving the restoration of Church property, on which so many had
become rich. But besides the old and the middle-aged, with whom these
things weighed, a fresh generation had sprung up, to whom the Papacy,
if not the execrable institution that it was popularly believed to
be, yet savoured too much of the past, and of those dreary mediæval
times, from which the world was escaping as from a tomb. Too recent
to appear picturesque, the Middle Ages were, to the pioneers of the
new era, out of date and old-fashioned, terms far more injurious than
the most violent word-war of the preachers. Filled with the new wine
of the Renaissance, these youthful enthusiasts formed the nucleus of
that phalanx of life-loving, exuberant personalities who, throwing
all their energies into the glorification of liberty, fame, pleasure,
and earthly beauty, gave us subsequently the Elizabethan age. To all
of these the very shadow of a spiritual authority was repellant, and
the whole session would doubtless have worn itself out in wrangling,
had not the Queen, coming unexpectedly to the House, seen how matters
stood. She promptly affixed the royal assent to three bills that had
been passed, and prorogued Parliament for three days. During this
interval, two separate bills were framed in the place of the one
obnoxious one, the first dealing exclusively with the confirmation of
Henry’s first marriage. To make this bill acceptable to the Commons,
all allusion to the Pope was avoided. The royal couple, it stated, had
lived together in lawful matrimony for twenty years, after which time,
unfounded scruples and projects of divorce had been suggested to the
King, by interested persons, who, to further their schemes, obtained
by threats and bribery the seals of national and foreign universities
in favour of the divorce, the sentence being ungodlily pronounced by
Thomas, the newly made Archbishop of Canterbury, against all principles
of equity and conscience, and in the absence of Queen Katharine.
The sentence had afterwards been ratified by Parliament, but as the
marriage was not prohibited by divine law, it could not be dissolved
by any such authority. The bill required therefore that the marriage
should be adjudged good and valid.[360]
Although what was demanded was tantamount to a decree bastardising
Elizabeth, not a dissentient voice was raised against the bill in
either House.[361]
The second bill was framed in such a manner as to allay the fears of
the holders of Church property, and to reassure those who dreaded
a return to Papal jurisdiction. It made therefore no mention of
ecclesiastical property, neither did it touch the vital question of the
royal supremacy, but simply aimed at the re-establishment of religion
as it was left at Henry’s death, with the repeal of nine Acts passed
by the influence of Edward’s Council. The debate lasted two days in
the Lower House, two-thirds of which consisted of friends of the new
doctrines. Nevertheless, the bill passed without a division, and
Cranmer’s ingenious compromise between Catholicism, Lutheranism and
Calvinism was abolished.[362]
The other bills passed in this session related to the Acts, bonds,
deeds and writings passed during the nine days’ usurpation, and were
made as binding in law, as if Mary’s name had stood for Jane’s. It was
also decreed, that nothing should be accounted treason but what fell
under the famous statute of Edward III., nor felony but what was so
understood in the first year of Henry VIII. The Acts against riotous
gatherings passed in the reign of Edward VI. were revived; several
persons attainted were restored in blood, and their estates given back
to them. Those who had been foremost in actively conspiring to exclude
Mary from the throne were attainted. These were, the Archbishop of
Canterbury, Lord Guildford and Lord Ambrose Dudley, and the Lady Jane.
All these measures were passed without serious obstacle; the real crux
lay in the question of the Queen’s marriage. On the 6th September, de
Noailles had been informed by one of the Howards, especially trusted
by Mary, of her secret interview with Renard, and of his formal
proposal to her from the Emperor, to marry Philip of Spain. The French
ambassador lost no time in informing his master of the threatened
danger to France, requesting that his brother, the protonotary,
François de Noailles, might be accredited as his coadjutor in the
difficult diplomatic situation likely to ensue. The following night,
he sent for one of Courtenay’s friends, and advised him and his party
to acquire as many allies as possible among those who came personally
into contact with the Queen and the members of Parliament, soon to be
assembled. These latter were to be incensed against Spain, and brought
to petition her Majesty not to take a foreigner for her consort. On the
8th, he had an interview with Sorranzo, the Venetian envoy, whom he
found ready to enter into his schemes, although Sorranzo had received
no instructions from his government, on the subject of the Queen’s
marriage. But so great was his dread of any further aggrandisement
of the House of Austria, that he was willing to listen to anything
de Noailles had to propose. On the 9th, the French ambassador sought
out Gardiner, and harangued him for two hours, on the dangers and
disadvantages of the proposed union—to the Queen who would soon find
herself forsaken by her husband—to the ministers who knew well that
Spaniards were not people to suffer opposition in the government—to the
realm at large which would see its fortresses occupied by foreigners,
and be itself drawn into a war with France, “for,” said he, “if the
Emperor married his son to the Queen of England,” it was “with the
intention that she, in accepting him, should take upon herself all his
quarrels”.[363]
To these arguments Gardiner more than agreed, but he was careful not
to show his hand completely. He had been the first to remonstrate with
Mary, urging the dislike of the English to foreigners, the arrogance
of Spain in particular, and the danger of a perpetual war with the
French, who would never agree to the Low Countries being annexed to
England. But opposed to the Chancellor were the Duke of Norfolk, the
Earl of Arundel, Paget and Rochester, so that Gardiner could no longer
be said to control the Council. De Noailles declared that they were in
the pay of the Emperor. His manipulation of the popular feeling was
the cleverest stroke of all. He caused it to be widely circulated,
that immediately on his arrival and marriage, Philip would seize the
Tower and the royal treasure, and make so many innovations that the
laws would be entirely subverted, the rights of Parliament suppressed,
the Inquisition established and the people trodden under the heel of
Spain.[364] In his anxiety to prevent the union, he overstepped his
master’s commands, unless the letter which Henry II. wrote to him,
prescribing moderation, was a mere blind, intended to be shown to
the Queen. Henry’s private instructions to his ambassador regarding
his personal dealings with Mary were, that he should go to work very
delicately, not seeming to wish to prevent the marriage, which would
only cause her to be still more determined in its favour, but that
gently he should continue to express doubt of the possibility of such
an alliance, so odious to the King of France, since her Majesty had
expressed a wish to live in peace with him.
At the beginning of the second session, the Commons, largely under
the influence of de Noailles, waited a fortnight for the opportunity
to present the Queen with an address which they had voted on the
all-engrossing subject. Pleading illness, Mary sought time for further
reflection. Then she sent suddenly for the Lower House, to attend on
her at once. The Speaker presented himself, accompanied by twenty
members, all that could be collected in haste. In his hurry, he had
forgotten to provide himself with the address, but his eloquence made
up for all deficiencies of form. He spoke so long and tediously, that
Mary became impatient, and sat down, contrary to her wont. With a
great deal of circumlocution, he prayed the Queen to marry, but not to
choose a husband among foreigners, and he expatiated on the advantages
she would derive from a union with a member of the English nobility.
Such language, respectful though it might be, was not such as to be
acceptable to Tudor ears, and in an aside, Mary exclaimed that she
would be a match for all her Chancellor’s cunning.[365] When the
Speaker had finished, she rose to reply, although the answer should
rightly have devolved on Gardiner, as Chancellor, an innovation that
caused Paget to rally him afterwards on his disgrace, the Queen having
deprived him of his office. Her words were short and characteristic:
“For that you desire to see us married,” she said, “we thank you.
Your desire to dictate to us the consort whom we shall choose, we
consider somewhat superfluous. The English Parliament has not been
wont to use such language to its sovereigns, and when private persons
on such matters suit their own tastes, sovereigns may reasonably be
allowed to choose whom they prefer.” Herewith she dismissed them, and a
few days later, Parliament was dissolved.[366]
[Illustration: QUEEN MARY.
From the portrait by Sir Antonio More, at Madrid.]
The truth was, that in the interval of her seclusion, Mary had
been making up her mind. In an interview with Renard on the 14th
October, she had questioned him minutely as to Philip’s character and
disposition, entreating him several times to tell her truly, whether
the Prince was in fact moderate, well-regulated, and such in very deed
as he had been described to her. She seized both of Renard’s hands,
and implored him to be open with her, speaking to her as if he were
her confessor. Renard protested warmly that he was ready to pledge
his honour and his life, that the Prince of Spain was all that she
could desire in a husband. Still, only half-satisfied, Mary continued
to express regret that a meeting should be considered impracticable,
before her final decision.[367]
In default of the original, whom the Emperor would by no means subject
to the insulting possibility of not pleasing, a portrait of the Prince
by Titian, was sent for Mary’s acceptance by the Queen of Hungary,
Philip’s aunt.[368]
Charles was not greatly disturbed by the manner in which his overtures
had been received in England. The English opinion of Spaniards was
not less flattering than his and Renard’s of the English. “Your
Majesty knows,” wrote the imperial ambassador, “that the temper and
self-will of the English are extremely turbulent. They love change
and novelty, either because of their insular position, or by reason
of their habitual contact with the sea, or because their morals are
corrupt. Your Majesty is aware how in times past their kings have
been obliged to treat them with rigour, even shedding royal blood, in
order to maintain their control over them, for which reason they have
acquired the reputation of being cruel tyrants.” He went on to draw a
picture of all that a foreign prince must be, if he would hope to gain
the good-will of the English people. The affection of the nobility
might, he explained, be won by rich banquets and entertainments, by
dazzling them with great wealth, by giving them the means of enriching
themselves, and by showing them an example of valour, in arms and
knighthood.
Renard was not far wrong in accusing the people of turbulence. Excited
to fever heat by de Noailles’ treachery, they confounded the Queen’s
marriage with purely religious questions, and in defiance of all
reason, attacked the Catholic religion merely because it was that of
Spain. Preachers were insulted in their pulpits; it became unsafe to
say Mass in public. The rebellious tone of the Londoners communicated
itself to the provinces, especially to the home counties, and to
Devonshire, the cradle of the Courtenay family. A circular letter
from the Queen to her Council declared, that “certain ill-disposed
persons meaning, under the pretence of misliking this marriage to rebel
against the Catholic religion, and divine service restored within this
our realm, and to take from us their sovereign Lady and Queen that
liberty which is not denied to the meanest women in the choice of their
husbands, cease not to spread many false, vile and untrue reports of
our said cousin and others of that nation”.[369]
The opposition of the Commons, gently as it had been expressed, seems
to have brought Mary’s uncertainties to an end. That same night, she
took the fatal step which was eventually to deprive her of her people’s
affection, an affection that had grown with her from her childhood,
had been her consolation in days of darkness, and had enabled her
to triumph so splendidly over her enemies. A despatch of Renard’s,
addressed to the Emperor, and dated the 31st October, describes the
dramatic scene in which she pledged herself to marry Philip.
“On Sunday evening, the said Lady sent for me to a room in which the
Blessed Sacrament was exposed, and declared that since I had presented
to her your Majesty’s letters, she had not been able to sleep, but had
wept and prayed that God would counsel her, and inspire her answer to
the question of marriage, which I had asked at Beaulieu [New Hall]. She
went on to say that as the Blessed Sacrament was in the room, and she
had always invoked it as her protector, guide and counsellor, she would
on this occasion also willingly ask it to help her. And kneeling down
on both knees, she recited the _Veni Creator Spiritus_, there being in
the room only myself and mistress Clarence, who did the same. But as
for mistress Clarence, I do not know whether she heard the said prayer,
but I think so because of the sign she made me. After the said lady
had risen from her knees, she said, that as your Majesty had chosen me
to treat of this negotiation with her, she had chosen me as her first
father confessor, and your Majesty for the second, and that having
weighed everything, and considered all I had told her, besides having
spoken on the subject to Arundel, Paget and Petre, and trusting to
what I had said of the good qualities and condition of his Highness,
she begged that your Majesty would be mindful of her, and agree to all
the conditions necessary for the welfare of the kingdom, and continue
to be a good father to her; all the more now that he would be a double
father, and would obtain from his Highness to be a good husband to her.
Feeling admonished by God, who had already operated so many miracles in
her favour, she gave me her royal word, before the Blessed Sacrament,
to marry his Highness, declaring that she would never change, but
love him perfectly, and never give him cause for jealousy. She went
on to say that she had feigned illness for two days, but that her
indisposition was merely the result of the difficulty she had felt in
making this resolution. Sire, the joy which I experienced on hearing
this declaration was as great as your Majesty can imagine, for if she
invoked the Holy Spirit, I indeed invoked the Blessed Trinity, to
inspire her to give this desired answer.”[370]
This interview was kept so secret, that on the 17th November, more
than a fortnight afterwards, de Noailles knew nothing of it, and still
expressed doubt that Mary would persist in a matter that was certain
to end for her in the loss of her people’s love; and he could not
believe that the Emperor would risk sending his son into a country, the
inhabitants of which threatened to kill him, rather than recognise him
as their King.[371] Nevertheless, it was generally understood that the
Queen had made up her mind, and as a forlorn hope the people clamoured
for the arrival of Cardinal Pole, whom they credited with being opposed
to the match, counting on his influence with Mary to prevent it. He had
been appointed by Pope Julius III. legate _a latere_ and _pro pace_,
and had started for England at the beginning of October. Wotton, Mary’s
ambassador in France, wrote to Sir William Petre as follows:—
“The Pope has made Cardinal Pole legate _a latere_ to the Emperor and
French King, and thereafter he is to go to her Majesty. His errand
is to attempt a reconciliation between the two former sovereigns,
and if any Cardinal is able to do good in the matter, Pole is that
person, being esteemed of an honest mind and virtuous life, and so much
respected by the Emperor, that at the last vacation of the Papacy, the
Imperial Cardinals laboured to have him made Pope.”[372]
Pole, we have seen, was of the opinion that, having remained thus far
unmarried, Mary should not change her state, but that the succession
should be left to take care of itself. But ignorant of his young
cousin’s unworthiness, he had desired that, if any marriage took
place, it might be with Edward Courtenay, though he abstained from
giving any advice on the subject. He had reached Dillingen, near
Brussels, on his way to England, when the Emperor forbade his further
progress, informing Renard, on the 21st November that by reason of
jealousies, and because the Cardinal might effectually oppose the
Queen’s marriage with his son, Pole was better where he was.[373]
Renard replied, begging the Emperor still to detain him, for being
Courtenay’s relative, he might put spokes in the wheel of Spain. There
is no doubt that had he come to England at that time, he would, seeing
the irritation of the people, have done all he could to prevent the
marriage; but the Emperor and Renard were probably wrong in suspecting
him of the least desire to push Courtenay’s fortunes. A letter from him
to his nephew, having been intercepted, was found to contain nothing
but the advice to remain faithful to the Queen, and to cultivate
gratitude for the benefits which he had received from her.
On the 13th November, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Guildford, Ambrose
and Henry Dudley, with the Lady Jane, proceeded from the Tower on foot,
to be arraigned at the Guildhall for high treason.[374] All pleaded
guilty, Cranmer protesting that he had acted unwillingly, in deference
to the authority of the officers of the Crown. Parliament confirmed
their attainder, and they were condemned to death. The Archbishop
appealed to the Queen, and hoped that the mercy that had been extended
to so many would be shown to him.[375] Notwithstanding that the
prisoners had been convicted, there was no intention on the part of the
Queen to proceed to the extremity of the law. She hoped, by keeping
them as hostages, to secure the loyalty of their friends, an optimistic
view that was not realised. Meanwhile, every indulgence compatible with
their situation was allowed to them. Both Cranmer and Ridley had the
freedom of the Tower, and the Queen’s garden, in common with the Lady
Jane and the others. Ridley was even sometimes invited to dine at the
Lieutenant’s table. The confinement of Latimer was more rigorous. He
had from the first been ordered into close prison, with his servant to
attend him.
Thus were matters constituted at the end of 1553. Elizabeth had
remained at court for some months, in a not very enviable position,
regarded by the Imperialists as the arch-enemy, and in reality the
object of every plot that was floated. Her fate seemed to keep her
perpetually hovering between the scaffold and the throne, to which de
Noailles bade her aspire, without intending, even if he succeeded in
dethroning Mary, to help her to mount it. She besought the Queen to
allow her to retire to her house at Ashridge, but Mary hesitated, in
giving her leave to depart, and if she had her watched, it was with
good reason. Her relations with de Noailles had been discovered, and
Arundel and Paget had told the Queen that the French ambassador had
visited the Princess three or four times under cover of the night, in
order to treat secretly of her marriage.[376] But Elizabeth denied
everything, and probably the accusation regarding the ambassador’s
visits was untrue. At any rate, Mary did not believe it, and took
occasion to make a new act of confidence in her sister. She embraced
her, and gave her two strings of large and magnificent pearls and
some rich sables. On taking leave, Elizabeth entreated Mary not to
believe the reports circulated to her disadvantage without hearing her.
Nevertheless, de Noailles thought that it only depended on Courtenay,
for her to follow him into Devon and Cornwall, where they would have a
good chance of securing the Crown for themselves. He had some reason
for this belief, the mayor and aldermen of Plymouth, thanks to his
interference, having sent to beg him to supplicate his master to take
them under his protection. They wished, they said, to place their town
in his hands, and were willing to receive whatever garrison he would
place there, being resolved not to receive the Prince of Spain, nor to
obey his commands in any way, assuring de Noailles that the country
gentlemen of the neighbourhood would do the same.[377]
Gardiner, ignorant of the Queen’s definite step, continued to struggle
against the marriage, till the Emperor, at Lord Paget’s suggestion,
wrote to six members of the Privy Council, introducing the subject
of the treaty. Then, seeing that all further opposition would be
fruitless, the Chancellor, ever patriotic, consented to negotiate terms
likely to safeguard the rights, liberties and interests of the nation.
There remained only for the Emperor to make the formal demand for
Mary’s hand, on behalf of his son.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 316: _Ambassade de Renard_, Belgian Archives, Record Office
Transcripts, vol. iii., 27-29, July 1553.]
[Footnote 317: St. Mark’s Library, Venice, Cod. xxiv., Cl. x.]
[Footnote 318: Rawdon Brown, _Venetian Calendar_, 1534-54, 766, 776,
805, 823.]
[Footnote 319: _Ibid._, 836.]
[Footnote 320: De Noailles, vol. ii., p. 109.]
[Footnote 321: The Imperial Ambassadors to Charles V., Record Office
Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 276, 278.]
[Footnote 322: Bonner had been sent to prison for what he had failed
to say in a sermon at Paul’s Cross, namely, that “the king’s authority
was as great during the minority as if he were thirty or forty years
old,” a doctrine which the Council had ordered him to preach. He obeyed
on all other points, but passed this one over in silence. Hooper
and Latimer laid information against him; he was examined on seven
different days before Cranmer, and was in the end deprived and thrown
into prison, to remain there perpetually at the King’s, in other words,
the Council’s, pleasure (_Dictionary of National Biography_, Art.
“Edmund Bonner”).]
[Footnote 323: Stow, p. 613. _Grey Friars’ Chronicle_, p. 83.]
[Footnote 324: Foxe, vol. vi., p. 392.]
[Footnote 325: Burnet, vol. iii., p. 384.]
[Footnote 326: Foxe, vol. vi., p. 390 _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol.
iv., p. 317, new series.]
[Footnote 327: Machyn, p. 42.]
[Footnote 328: Dixon, _History of the Church of England_, vol. iv., p.
37 note.]
[Footnote 329: A Florentine, formerly one of the Canons Regular of St.
Augustine, who, joining the Swiss Reformers, became the intimate friend
of Zwingli and Bucer, subsequently also that of Cranmer, who often
consulted him in compiling the Book of Common Prayer.]
[Footnote 330: Harl. MS. 422, Brit. Mus., in Grindal’s hand. Foxe,
_Acts and Monuments_, vol. vi., p. 539. Strype, _Memorials of Cranmer_,
vol. i., p. 437 et seq.]
[Footnote 331: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. iv., p. 347, new
series.]
[Footnote 332: Strype, _Memorials of Cranmer_, vol. i., p. 449.]
[Footnote 333: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 334: Dixon, _History of the Church of England_, vol. iv., p.
44.]
[Footnote 335: See also Haynes, i., 183-84.]
[Footnote 336: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 138.]
[Footnote 337: Louis Wiesener, _La Jeunesse d’Elisabeth d’Angleterre_,
p. 101.]
[Footnote 338: Renard _apud_ Griffet, xii., pp. 106, 107. De Noailles,
vol. ii., pp. 138, 141, 160. Record Office, Belgian Transcripts,
i., pp. 360-62. Père Griffet, who now becomes one of the chief
authorities for this part of the reign, discovered, in the middle
of the last century, a number of Renard’s despatches in the royal
library at Besançon, and wrote, in answer to David Hume’s gross libel
and caricature of Queen Mary, a volume 12mo, of 197 pages, which was
published at Amsterdam in 1765. Its title, _Nouveaux Eclaircissements
sur le règne de Marie Tudor reine d’Angleterre_, shows the importance
of the book, which is now scarce. There is no copy of it in the British
Museum.]
[Footnote 339: Griffet, _ut supra_.]
[Footnote 340: _Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary_, pp. 194-97,
21st September 1553. Inventory of jewels.]
[Footnote 341: Archives des affaires étrangères, _Registre des copies
des dépêches de M. de Noailles_, tom. i. et ii. (in one), p. 125.]
[Footnote 342: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 104.]
[Footnote 343: _A History of the English Poor Law_, by Sir G. Nicholls,
K.C.B., Poor Law Commissioner and Secretary to the Poor Law Board, vol.
i., pp. 112, 130, 141.]
[Footnote 344: _Venetian Calendar_, 1534-54, p. 543.]
[Footnote 345: _Calendar of State Papers_, Domestic, vol. i., 1553.]
[Footnote 346: Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. iii., pt. i.,
p. 40.]
[Footnote 347: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 123.]
[Footnote 348: Notably the exclusion of imperial influence.]
[Footnote 349: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
74.]
[Footnote 350: Belgian Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 284-86, Record Office.]
[Footnote 351: _Ambassades_, vol. i., p. 232.]
[Footnote 352: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, p. 100. He
goes on to describe Elizabeth as “un esprit plein d’incantation,” etc.]
[Footnote 353: “Elle jura que jamais elle n’avait senti aiguillon de ce
que l’on appelle amour ... et qu’elle n’avait jamais pensé à mariage
sinon depuis que a plu à Dieu la promouvoir à la couronne, et que celui
qu’elle fera sera contre sa propre affection pour le respect de la
chose publique” (_Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, p. 98).]
[Footnote 354: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 144.]
[Footnote 355: _Papiers d’Etat_, p. 105.]
[Footnote 356: Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 103. For Stow’s
graphic account of the royal procession see Appendix D.]
[Footnote 357: Belgian Archives, Record Office Transcripts, vol. i., p.
436. Also Griffet. But Griffet is mistaken in thinking that Elizabeth
referred to a crown she was carrying in her hands, as if it had been
the Queen’s.]
[Footnote 358: _History of England_, vol. vi., p. 109.]
[Footnote 359: Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 103.]
[Footnote 360: Lingard, vol. v., p. 405, 5th edition.]
[Footnote 361: Henry II. rejoiced greatly at the passing of the act
confirming Mary’s legitimacy, as it _ipso facto_, as he thought,
removed the one barrier between Mary and the succession of his
daughter-in-law the Queen of Scots, the next legitimate heir to the
English throne. Both sisters could not be legitimate (Henry to de
Noailles, _Ambassades_, ii., p. 250).]
[Footnote 362: The Book of Common Prayer is called in the Act of
Parliament “a new thing, imagined by a few of singular opinions”.]
[Footnote 363: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, ii., pp. 143-48.]
[Footnote 364: _Ibid._, p. 186.]
[Footnote 365: Griffet, xxviii.]
[Footnote 366: When Mary told Gardiner that she would never marry
Courtenay, the Chancellor replied with tears, owning that he had
entertained an affection for the young man from the time of their
mutual imprisonment. Mary then asked him whether it was proper for her
to marry him just because her Chancellor was fond of him in prison
(Renard to the Emperor, Record Office Transcripts).]
[Footnote 367: Belgian Transcripts, Record Office, vol i., pp. 497-505.]
[Footnote 368: She charged Renard to inform Mary that it had been
painted three years previously, and that, like all Titian’s works,
it required to be studied at a little distance, in order to perceive
the likeness. She added, that since it had been executed, Philip had
matured and had grown more beard. About this time, Cardinal Granvelle
sent the painter, Antonio More, to England to paint Mary’s portrait
for Philip. She sat to him at different times, and he painted several
fine portraits of her. The principal one is at Madrid, in the Museo del
Prado.]
[Footnote 369: Letter of the Queen to the Council of the Marches,
Historical MSS. Commission, Report 13, app. iv., p. 318.]
[Footnote 370: Belgian Transcripts, Record Office, vol. i., pp. 600-2.]
[Footnote 371: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 283.]
[Footnote 372: MS., St. Mark’s Library, Cod. xxiv., Letter-Book, Ven.
Archives. He only just missed being elected. Two Cardinals, coming
to his cell in the Conclave one evening, begged him, as he had the
necessary two-thirds of the votes, to come to the chapel, where he
would be made Pope by “adoration”. Pole induced them to put off the
ceremony till the next day, when a further scrutiny showed that
Cardinal del Monte had a majority of votes.]
[Footnote 373: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
156.]
[Footnote 374: Wriothesley, vol. ii., p. 104.]
[Footnote 375: _Cranmer’s Remains_, p. 443.]
[Footnote 376: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 309.]
[Footnote 377: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 342.]
CHAPTER XI.
THE COMING OF THE KING.
_January-July_, 1554.
Courtenay was still on the horns of a dilemma, where the weakness and
natural timidity of his character kept him irresolute. While he did not
hesitate to play with treason, listening to the French ambassador’s
flattering suggestions that he should marry Elizabeth, set up his
standard in the south-west, and gather round it the disaffected, he
hesitated, in the faint hope that the Queen might yet raise him by a
safer path to the throne. Never was ambition supported by less courage,
moral or physical. De Noailles was in despair as much on account of
Courtenay’s want of decision as because of his loose conduct.[378]
It had cost Paget and Renard much trouble to persuade Mary to simulate
a belief, which she was now far from entertaining, in Elizabeth’s
loyalty. But at last, her sister’s collusion with traitors could no
longer be ignored, and remembering all that she had suffered at the
hands of Anne Boleyn, the Queen would have been credulous indeed, if
she had continued to place confidence in Anne Boleyn’s daughter.[379]
The awakening had involved a shock, but Renard and the Spanish party
in the Council, consisting of the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of
Arundel and Lord Paget, prevailed on her to control her indignation,
in order to pave the way for her marriage; and it is probable that the
idea, which now suggested itself to the Queen and Paget, of marrying
Elizabeth to Courtenay,[380] originated in the wish to propitiate
those who were opposed to the Spanish match. Half the objection to
the Queen’s union with a foreigner would, they thought, vanish, if it
were clearly understood, that in the event of her death without issue,
not Philip of Spain, but the English heirs of Elizabeth and Courtenay
would succeed to the throne. It was a strange coincidence that the same
idea should have occurred both to the Queen and her friends, and to
her bitterest foe the French ambassador. He thought thereby to create
a strong party for Elizabeth and Courtenay, while the loyalists hoped
to put an end to the discontent. But the Emperor, to whom of course
the plan was at once referred, nipped it in the bud. He saw that to
promote such a marriage would be suicidal, for it would constitute the
contracting parties natural heads of the conspiracy, and furnish them
with a strong motive for plotting against the Queen’s life.[381]
Elizabeth, who was now at Hatfield, and eager to prove the sincerity of
her conversion, wrote to her sister for copes, chasubles and everything
necessary for Catholic worship in her chapel; but it was remarked that
she surrounded herself exclusively with those of the new doctrines,
and that she was considerably hampered by the constant supervision
under which she lived. “Toutefois, je vous laisse à penser Sire,”
wrote de Noailles, “si ladite dame Elisabeth est en peyne d’estre si
près éclairée (watched) ce qui n’est fait sans quelque raison, car
je vous puis asseurer Sire, qu’elle désire fort de se mettre hors de
tutelle, et à ce que j’entends, il ne tiendra qu’à lord Courtenay qu’il
ne l’espouse, et qu’elle ne le suive jusques au pays de Dampschier
(Devonshire) et de Cornouailles, où il se peult croire que s’ils y
estoient assemblez, ils seroient pour avoir une bonne part a ceste
couronne.... Mais le malheur est tel, que ledit de Courtenay est en si
grande craincte, qu’il n’ose rien entreprendre. Je ne vois moyen qui
soit pour l’empeschier sinon la faute de cueur.”[382]
On the 2nd January 1554, the imperial envoys, Counts Egmont and Lalain,
Jean de Montmorency, Lord of Corrières, and the Sieur de Nigry,
Chancellor of the Order of the Golden Fleece, arrived in England, “for
the knitting up of the marriage of the Queen to the King of Spain,
before whose landing there was let off a great peal of guns in the
Tower”. At the Tower wharf they were met by Sir Anthony Browne, “he
being clothed in a very gorgeous apparel,” and on Tower Hill, the Earl
of Devon, and others received them, “in most honourable and familiar
wise”. Courtenay gave his right hand to Count Egmont, “and brought him
throughout Cheapside, and so forth to Westminster; the people nothing
rejoicing held down their heads sorrowfully. The day before his coming
in, as his retinue and harbingers came riding through London, the boys
pelted them with snowballs, so hateful was the sight of their coming in
to them.”[383]
The Council and the municipality of London did their best to counteract
the impression conveyed by the attitude of the people, and the next
day, the Lord Mayor and the Lord Chamberlain waited on the envoys, and
presented them with various rich gifts. On the 9th, they were invited
to a banquet given by the Lords of the Privy Council. On the 10th
they went to Hampton Court.[384] In an audience, at which the whole
court was present, they formally demanded Mary’s hand for the Prince
of Spain. The Queen replied, that it became not a woman to speak in
public, on so delicate a matter as her own marriage, but that they
might confer with her ministers, who would make known to them her
resolution; but, fixing her eyes on the ring that had been placed on
her finger at her coronation, she told the envoys to bear in mind that
her realm was her first husband, and that no consideration would induce
her to violate the faith she had already pledged.[385]
The terms of the marriage treaty, which had already been settled
between Gardiner and Renard, were in every way most honourable to
the English nation, safeguarding the national interests in a manner
far beyond all other royal marriage treaties before or since. It
was stipulated, that Philip should observe strictly the rights and
privileges of all classes, and that foreigners should be excluded
from public offices; that he should have no claim on English ships,
ammunition or treasure, that he should not involve the country in the
war which he and the Emperor were carrying on against Henry II., and
that as far as lay in his power, he would promote peace between England
and France.[386] If there were issue of the marriage, the eldest child
was to inherit Burgundy and the Low Countries, a valuable appanage
to the Crown of England; and if the Queen predeceased her husband,
Philip was to resign the guardianship of the child into English hands.
Moreover, this child, male or female, was also, in the event of the
death without issue of Don Carlos, Philip’s son by his first marriage,
to inherit the kingdoms of Spain and Sicily, the Duchy of Milan, and
all Philip’s other dominions. Sixty thousand pounds a year (equal to
about a million of present money) was to be settled on Mary as her
jointure, to be paid by Spain, if she outlived her husband. Besides
this, she was to share with him equally all his titles, honours and
dignities, which were to be mentioned in all official documents, after
their first titles of King and Queen of England.[387]
No political combination could have been more advantageous to England
as a make-weight against the marriage of Mary Queen of Scots with the
Dauphin. For it was not only _desirable_ that England should seek
the protection of the Empire against this important coalition, but
as Elizabeth had been virtually declared illegitimate by two Acts of
Parliament, Mary Stuart was heir presumptive to the throne, and it was
_necessary_ to raise an effectual barrier against the possibility of
England becoming a mere appendage to France.
Philip was to have nothing but the empty title of King, the only
advantages accruing to him from the marriage being the geographical
position of England, its political friendship as a counterpoise to the
alliance between France and Scotland, and the hope that Mary would give
birth to an heir. By the first he would secure an unmolested passage
through the English Channel, for his ships sailing between Spain and
the Netherlands; by the second the balance of power in Europe would
be restored, and by the third he would checkmate his enemy. Further
than this he would reap no benefit. England, with the exception of
London, was poor, and only just recovering from the consequences of a
debased currency, while the religious troubles of the last seventeen
years, dating from the Pilgrimage of Grace, had made revolt and popular
risings far too frequent for the prosperity of the country.
During the first half of the sixteenth century, England had played
but a subordinate part in the politics of Europe, and during Edward’s
reign, the Government had been so weak that Charles V. had been able
to demand Mary’s religious rights without compromise. France and the
Empire had disputed the honours, the wealth, the prestige of the
civilised world, and Mary had some reason to hope that by her marriage,
she would raise her country to the rank of a first-rate power. But de
Noailles and his friends had sown the seeds of discord too carefully,
party and religious feeling ran too high for dispassionate counsels to
prevail, and when, on the 14th and 15th January, the Chancellor read
aloud the articles of the treaty, first in the Upper, then in the Lower
House, calling attention in each, to the favourable terms stipulated
for, and to the provisions made to secure the national independence,
no satisfaction was expressed.[388] Immediately afterwards, the French
King ordered his ambassador to demand an audience, and to represent to
Mary his master’s grief at her projected union with his enemy, “having
desired more than anything in this world, to perpetuate friendship
with her all their lives”. Nevertheless, Henry wanted not peace, but
England as well as Scotland, for his daughter-in-law’s dowry, for
together, France, England and Scotland would have formed a compact
bulwark against the Empire. Spain and the Netherlands would have been
completely sundered, with no possibility of intercourse, and the Low
Countries would have fallen a facile prey to France.[389] At the
very time when he was charging his ambassador to reproach the Queen
with a want of friendship, de Noailles was secretly interviewing a
number of the malcontents, and organising a plot so widespread in its
ramifications, that had it succeeded, Mary must have been utterly
undone. Devonshire and Cornwall were to rise under Sir Peter Carew, in
favour of Elizabeth and Courtenay; Sir Thomas Wyatt, a young Kentish
gentleman, son of the poet of that name, was to disaffect the home
counties. The Duke of Suffolk was to incite to rebellion his tenantry
in the Midlands; Sir James Croft undertook to cause a revolt on the
borders of Wales, while the French fleet was under orders to be in
readiness to help the insurgents wherever the need should be greatest.
De Selve, formerly French ambassador in England, now envoy at Venice,
wrote to the Constable of France, advising him to do his utmost to
stir up and keep alive the discontent in England. This was done by
circulating the grossest and most self-contradictory falsehoods. It was
reported that Edward was still alive, that the Spaniards were coming
with an army of 8,000 men to take possession of the Tower, the ports
and the ships, that they possessed every vice and evil propensity
that could enslave and disgrace a nation, that the Queen had been
false to her promises not to make any change in religion or to marry a
foreigner.[390] Had there been unity of purpose and design among the
leaders, and above all, had Courtenay possessed one spark of courage,
their success would have been certain. But some were for immediate
action, while others had regard to the bad and almost impassable state
of the country roads, and to the difficulty of a combined movement in
mid-winter.
Finally, it was decided that nothing should be done till the spring,
when Philip was expected to arrive. At the first sign of his approach,
they were to arm, oppose his landing, marry Elizabeth to Courtenay,
and have them proclaimed King and Queen in Devonshire. But the
suspicions of the Council were roused by the visits to Elizabeth of
a mysterious person, representing himself to be a French pastor.
He had several conferences with her, the officers of her household
taking him for an emissary of the disaffected. The Council urged
Mary to secure Elizabeth’s person, but in vain, and Gardiner sent a
message to the Princess, entreating her to be loyal to the Queen.[391]
Elizabeth immediately posed as a victim, but Courtenay was wax in the
Chancellor’s hands. Gardiner summoned him to an interview, and began
by reproaching the thankless recipient of Mary’s bounty with his
manner of life, and with the company he frequented, warning him that
if he continued to forget his duty to the Queen, he would assuredly
have cause for repentance. He should be on his guard, the Chancellor
insinuated, against the French, and other interested people, adding
that her Majesty wished that he should go and make the acquaintance
of the Emperor. Hereupon Courtenay became alarmed, fancying himself
already handed over to the just punishment of his crime. He pretended
to confess all, declared that certain persons had tried to persuade him
of things touching religion and the Queen’s marriage, but that he had
been unwilling to listen to them; that he had resolved to live and die
in the Queen’s service; that a marriage with Madam Elizabeth had been
proposed to him, but that he would rather be sent back to the Tower
than be united to her; and that he was willing to accept the proposed
mission to the Low Countries.[392] This was all that Renard committed
to writing of the interview, but the news spread like wildfire among
the conspirators, that Courtenay had revealed the plot, and de Noailles
informed Henry of the fact. Renard as usual importuned Gardiner for
Elizabeth’s imprisonment, but the Chancellor made an evasive answer,
to the effect that he would see to it when the Prince of Spain should
be in England. The plotters decided to bring matters to an immediate
crisis, although it was fully six weeks before the time fixed for
action. On leaving London, Wyatt and Croft resolved to warn Elizabeth,
but the letter which Wyatt wrote to her fell into the hands of the
Council. In this letter, he urged her for greater safety to leave her
house at Ashridge, and to retire to her castle of Donnington, thirty
miles farther from the capital. On the day after Wyatt’s appearance
openly in arms at Maidstone, the Queen wrote to Elizabeth:—
“Right dear and entirely beloved Sister, We greet you well: And
where certain evil-disposed persons minding more the satisfaction
of their own malicious and seditious minds, than their duty of
allegiance towards us, have of late foully spread divers lewd and
untrue rumours; and by that means and other devilish practices,
do travail to induce our good and loving subjects to an unnatural
rebellion against God, us and the tranquillity of our realm, we
tendering the surety of your person, which might chance to be in
some peril, if any sudden tumult should arise, where you now be,
or about Donnington, whither, as we understand, you are minded
shortly to remove, do therefore think expedient, you should put
yourself in good readiness, with all convenient speed, to make
your repair hither to us. Which we pray you, fail not to do;
assuring you, that as you may most surely remain here, so shall
you be most heartily welcome to us. And of your mind herein we
pray you to return answer by this messenger. And thus we pray God
to have you in his holy keeping.
“Given under our signet, at our manor of St. James’s, the 26 Jan.
in the first year of our reign.
“Your loving sister
“MARYE THE QUEEN.”[393]
Elizabeth returned a verbal answer, saying that she was too ill to
travel at that time, but that she would come as soon as she was able.
She neither removed to Donnington, in compliance with Wyatt’s letter
and Croft’s reiterated entreaties, nor made any attempt to obey Mary’s
summons, but fortified herself at Ashridge, and took to her bed, either
because she was really ill, or to give some colour to her assertion.
De Noailles told Henry II. that she had surrounded herself with people
“à sa devotion,” and was suspected. Renard also noted that she had
summoned armed men to her defence.[394]
The Earl of Devon remained at court closely watched, presenting a
pitiable figure, but stoutly maintaining his loyalty and devotion to
the Queen.
In spite of the determination, boldness and assurance with which the
plot had been laid, the conspirators were mistaken in the measure
of the national discontent. Even the Devonshire men, supposed to be
staunch adherents of Courtenay’s house, were apathetic, and when it
became apparent that the young Earl would fail to come himself and lead
them, their last spark of enthusiasm died out. The Earl of Bedford, who
was sent against them, took a few of the leaders prisoners, Carew with
some of his companions escaping to France. Sir James Croft was closely
pursued, when he left London to spread revolt among his tenantry on the
banks of the Severn, and before one seditious word could be uttered,
his designs were nipped in the bud. He was arrested in his bed and
conveyed to the Tower.
The part taken by the Duke of Suffolk was particularly odious. If
he displayed a less craven spirit than Courtenay, his ingratitude
for past favours was far more glaring. The principal mover after
Northumberland, in the plot to deprive Mary of the Crown, he had been
freely and frankly forgiven, after only three days’ imprisonment,
being permitted to suffer for his treason neither in body nor estate.
So great moreover was the distinction accorded to his wife by Mary,
that the Queen sometimes gave her precedence over her own sister; and
if his daughter and her husband were still captives, it was owing to
the fact of the disturbed state of London, and its neighbourhood, the
direct result of his own and his friends’ treachery. There is little
doubt that there had been no further movement to raise the Lady Jane
to the throne, and had her father remained faithful, although sentence
of death had been passed on her, she would shortly with her husband
have regained complete liberty. None suspected Suffolk’s fidelity, for
with consummate deceit, the Duke feigned the deepest attachment to the
person of the Queen, giving repeated assurances of the same, and of his
approval of her marriage. So entirely was Mary deceived, that it was
thought she contemplated placing him at the head of her troops.[395]
The following account of his departure for the Midlands shows how
little she doubted him:—
“The 25th day of January, the Duke of Suffolk, the lord John Gray and
the Lord Leonard Gray fled (from his house at Sheen). It is said that
the same morning that he was going, there came a messenger to him from
the Queen, that he should come to the Court. ‘Marry,’ quoth he, ‘I was
coming to her Grace. Ye may see, I am booted and spurred, ready to
ride, and I will but break my fast and go.’ So he gave the messenger
a reward, and caused him to be made to drink, and so thence departed
himself, no man knoweth whither. Sir Thomas Palmer, servant to the Earl
of Arundel said on the morrow following, to a friend of his, that the
complot between the French king and the said Duke of Suffolk was now
come to light.”[396]
Suffolk went into Warwickshire with his brothers, and about fifty
followers, and was accused of having proclaimed the Lady Jane at
Leicester, and in other places, but according to Holinshed, he only
called on the inhabitants of the towns through which he passed, to rise
and fight for their liberties, which were at the mercy of Spain.[397]
But as in the first rebellion, the people listened to him in stolid
and indifferent silence, even refusing the money which he scattered in
profusion among them. The Earl of Huntingdon, who was sent in pursuit
as soon as Suffolk’s intentions were known, encountered the Duke near
Coventry, and after a slight skirmish obliged him to fly for his life.
He was betrayed by one of his own tenants, with whom he had taken
refuge, and delivered over to his pursuers.
Thus the triple cord was utterly broken in less than a fortnight, and
Mary and her advisers might now concentrate all their energies on the
only one of the chief plotters who seemed likely to prove dangerous.
This was Sir Thomas Wyatt, whose name has become identified with the
rebellion. In courage, skill and enterprise he far exceeded the other
conspirators, and when it was known that he had risen, furnished with
arms and ammunition by the Venetian ambassador, consternation filled
the hearts of the loyal. Fifteen thousand Kentish men gathered round
his standard, in the fields bordering the great highway that runs from
London to Dover. They harassed the Flemish and Spanish merchants,
travelling from the coast inland, in such sort, that those who escaped
with their lives thought themselves fortunate.
So great was the terror which he inspired, that if Wyatt had at once
pushed on to London, the city would have fallen resistless into his
hands.
“The 26th day of January,” says Machyn, “began watching at every
gate, in harness, for tidings came the same time to the Queen and her
Council, that Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir George Harper, Sir Hare Isseley,
Master Cobham, and Master Rudston and Master Knevett, and divers other
gentlemen and commons were up, and they say because [of] the Prince of
Spain coming in to have our Queen, for they keep Rochester Castle, and
the bridge and other places.”[398]
By six o’clock in the evening, a small force of about five hundred
men had been collected at Leadenhall, and the next day marched towards
Gravesend, under Captain Brett, as if to fight the Kentish men, while
the Earl of Huntingdon set out with another company “to take the Duke
of Suffolk”. The Duke of Norfolk, lieutenant of the army, was supported
by the Earl of Ormond, and Sir Henry Jerningham, Captain of the Guard,
with a considerable number of men under him. But the loyalty of Brett
and his men was feigned, and the following account relates the story of
their treason:—
“And before the setting forward of these men, the Duke sent a herald
into Rochester, with the Queen’s proclamation, that all such as would
desist their purpose should have frank and free pardon; who came upon
the bridge, and would have gone through into the city, but they that
kept the bridge would not suffer him, till that the captain came, who
at last granted the same to be read in the city. But the same being
ended, each man cried they had done nothing whereof they should need
any pardon, and that quarrel which they took, they would die and live
in it. Nevertheless, at the last, Sir George Harper received the pardon
outwardly, and being received under the Duke of Norfolk’s protection,
came on forward against the Kentish men; and even as the company was
set in a readiness, and marched forward toward the bridge, the said
Bret being captain of the five hundred Londoners, of which the more
part were in the forward, turned himself about, and drawing his sword
said by report these or much like words. ‘Masters, we go about to fight
against our native countrymen of England and our friends, in a quarrel
unrightful and partly wicked, for they, considering the great and
manifold miseries which are like to fall upon us if we shall be under
the rule of the proud Spaniards or strangers, are here assembled to
make resistance against the coming in of him or his favourers.’”
Then followed the usual highly coloured description of the state of
slavery to which England was to be reduced by the Queen’s marriage,
a picture that had been so often held up before the people by de
Noailles, that it was no wonder if they had come to believe in the
reality of the horrors portrayed. “’Wherefore,’ continued Brett, ‘I
and these (meaning by them such as were in that rank with him) will
spend our blood in the quarrel of this worthy captain, master Wyatt,
and other gentlemen here assembled.’ Which words once pronounced,
each man turned their ordnance against their fellow. The Londoners
thereupon cried ‘a Wyatt! a Wyatt!’ of which sudden noise, the duke,
the earl of Ormond and the captain of the guard, being abashed,
fled forthwith. Immediately came in master Wyatt and his company,
on horseback, rushing in amongst them, saying as well to the guard,
Londoners, as to all the rest. ‘So many as will come and tarry with us
shall be welcome; and so many as will depart, good leave have they.’
And so all the Londoners, part of the guard, and more than three parts
of the retinue went into the camp of the Kentishmen, where they still
remain. At this discomfiture, the Duke lost eight pieces of brass,
with all other munition and ordnance, and himself with the earl of
Ormond, and Jerningham and others fled to London. Ye should have seen
some of the guard come home, their coats turned, all ruined, without
arrows or string in their bow, or sword, in a very strange wise; which
discomfiture, like as it was a heartsore, and very displeasing to
the Queen and Council, even so it was almost no less joyous to the
Londoners, and most part of all others.”[399]
Wyatt then marched to a house belonging to Lord Cobham near Rochester,
made himself master of it, and obliged the owner with his two sons to
join his band. His next movement was towards London. The Queen ordered
the bridges over the Thames to be destroyed, to the distance of fifteen
miles. The numbers of the insurgents increased daily, lashed into a
fury of fear by inflammatory words, such as the following incident
relates:—
William Cotman, afterwards committed, declared that “William Ishley
Gent. eldest son Sir William Ishley, Knt., came this morning to his
shop, two hours before day, to shoe his horse, where he tarried the
making of a shoe, and there used these words: ‘that the Spaniards were
coming into the realm, with harness and hand-guns, and would make us
Englishmen worse than enemies and viler; for this realm should be
brought to such bondage by them, as it was never afore, but should be
utterly conquered!’ And at his taking of his horse, he said with a loud
voice, that all the street might hear it, it being scarce day: ‘Smith,
if thou beest a good fellow, stir and encourage all the neighbours to
rise against these strangers, for they should have lawful warning and
help enough!...’ ‘Why,’ quoth the smith, ‘these be marvellous words,
for we shall be hanged if we stir.’ ‘No,’ quoth Ishley, ‘ye shall have
help enough, for the people are already up in Devonshire and Cornwall,
Hampshire and other counties.’”[400]
The Council, the Court, the loyal citizens of London were
panic-stricken, armed men patrolled the London streets; friends and
foes were scarcely to be distinguished in the surging, vociferous
crowds that thronged the open spaces day and night. Confusion and
terror reigned. The government sued Wyatt for terms, thereby only
increasing his audacity. He replied by undertaking to lay down
his arms, provided that the Queen placed the Tower of London, and
four of her principal advisers in his hands, as guarantees of her
promise to marry an Englishman. Mutual distrust gave rise to futile
recriminations at the Council Board. Gardiner was reproached on the
one hand for his precipitancy in restoring the ancient religion; the
Spanish ambassadors, on the other, were blamed for advising the Queen’s
marriage with Philip, to which the Chancellor had always been opposed.
The ambassadors fled in dismay, disguised as merchants—all but Renard,
who refused to desert the Queen.
Mary was at Whitehall and Westminster Palace, during the whole time
of the horrible panic, the only calm and self-possessed figure, amid
the confusion and dire distress of her friends. She could easily
pass from one palace to the other by means of the inside galleries
which connected the Holbein Gate at Whitehall, with the Old Palace
at Westminster, on the site of the present Houses of Parliament.
When her ministers urged her to seek safety in flight, she as usual
consulted Renard, who advised her to remain, if she would not lose
her crown.[401] A meeting of the citizens to discuss measures for the
defence of London, was convened at the Guildhall, on the 1st February.
Mary’s coming to the city and her address to the people are thus
described by Wriothesley:—
“The same day in the afternoon, being Candlemas Even, all the Commons
of the City were assembled in their liveries at the Guildhall. The
Queen’s Majesty, with her lords and ladies, riding from Westminster to
the said Guildhall, came thither by 3 of the clock the same afternoon.
First she went up to the Council Chamber, where the aldermen use to
sit, and there paused a little, the Lord Mayor and aldermen receiving
her Majesty at the steps going up to the Lord Mayor’s Court. Then
her Majesty came down into the great hall, up into the place of the
hustings, where was hanged a rich cloth of estate, she standing under
it, with her own mouth declared to the audience there assembled, the
wicked pretence of the traitor Wyatt, which was utterly to deprive her
of her crown and to spoil the City; which was so nobly and with so good
spirit declared, and with so loud a voice, that all the people might
hear her Majesty, and comforting their hearts with so sweet words, that
made them weep for joy to hear her Majesty speak. This done, she came
down, and went up again into the Council Chamber, and drank, and then
departed, and rode through Bucklersbury to the Crane in the Vinetree,
and there took her barge, and so to Westminster by water.”[402]
Foxe gives the Queen’s speech at the Guildhall “as near out of her
own mouth as it could be penned”. She said: “I am come unto you in
mine own person to tell you that which already you see and know; that
is, how traitorously and rebelliously a number of Kentishmen have
assembled themselves against us and you. Their pretence (as they said
at the first) was for a marriage determined for us, to the which, and
to all the articles thereof, ye have been made privy. But since, we
have caused certain of our privy council to go again unto them, and to
demand the cause of this their rebellion; and it appeared then unto
our said council, that the matter of the marriage seemed to be but a
Spanish cloak to cover their pretended purpose against our religion;
for that they arrogantly and traitorously demanded to have the
governance of our person, the keeping of the Tower, and the placing of
our councillors. Now, loving subjects, what I am ye right well know. I
am your queen, to whom at my coronation, when I was wedded to the realm
and laws of the same (the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger,
which never hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be left off) you promised
your allegiance and obedience unto me. And that I am the right and true
inheritor of the crown of this realm of England, I take all Christendom
to witness. My father, as ye all know, possessed the same regal state,
which now rightly is descended unto me: and to him always ye showed
yourselves most faithful and loving subjects; and therefore I doubt
not, but ye will show yourselves [such] likewise unto me, and that ye
will not suffer a vile traitor to have the order and governance of our
person, and to occupy our estate, especially being so vile a traitor as
Wyat is, who most certainly as he hath abused mine ignorant subjects
which be on his side, so doth he intend and purpose the destruction
of you, and spoil of your goods. And I say to you on the word of a
prince, I cannot tell how naturally the mother loveth the child, for
I was never the mother of any, but certainly if a prince and governor
may as naturally and earnestly love her subjects, as the mother doth
love the child, then assure yourselves that I, being your lady and
mistress, do as earnestly and tenderly love and favour you. And I, thus
loving you, cannot but think that ye as heartily and faithfully love
me; and then I doubt not but that we shall give these rebels a short
and speedy overthrow. As concerning the marriage, ye shall understand
that I enterprised not the doing thereof without advice, and that by
the advice of all our privy council, who so considered and weighed the
great commodities that might ensue thereof, that they not only thought
it very honourable, but also expedient, both for the wealth of the
realm, and also of you our subjects. And as touching myself, I assure
you, I am not so bent to my will, neither so precise nor affectionate,
that either for mine own pleasure I would choose where I lust, or that
I am so desirous, as needs I would have one. For God, I thank him,
to whom be the praise therefore, I have hitherto lived a virgin, and
doubt nothing, but with God’s grace, I am able so to live still. But
if, as my progenitors have done before me, it may please God, that I
might leave some fruit of my body behind me, to be your governor, I
trust you would not only rejoice thereat, but also I know it would be
to your great comfort. And certainly, if I either did think or know,
that this marriage were to the hurt of any of you my commons, or to the
impeachment of any part or parcel of the royal state of this realm of
England, I would never consent thereunto, neither would I ever marry
while I lived. And on the word of a queen, I promise you, that if it
shall not probably appear to all the nobility and commons, in the high
court of parliament, that this marriage shall be for the high benefit
and commodity of the whole realm, then will I abstain from marriage
while I live. And now good subjects, pluck up your hearts, and like
true men, stand fast against these rebels, both our enemies and yours,
and fear them not, for I assure you I fear them nothing at all. And I
will leave with you, my lord Howard, and my lord treasurer, who shall
be assistants with the mayor for your defence.”[403]
As Mary finished this oration, “which she seemed perfectly to have
conned without book,” the hall resounded with cheers and acclamations.
“God save Queen Mary!” shouted the citizens, and some even added, “and
the Prince of Spain”. The Chancellor, who was standing by, exclaimed:
“Oh, how happy are we, to whom God hath given such a wise and learned
prince!” Enthusiasm took the place of depression, and 20,000 men at
once enrolled themselves for the defence. The Queen’s noble confidence
in the strength and righteousness of her cause communicated itself to
the people, and the approach of the rebels was henceforth met with
steady preparations for a determined resistance. On the last day of
January, Wyatt was at Dartford. While Mary was rousing the citizens
to fervour at the Guildhall, he was passing through Greenwich and
Deptford, but his company was suffering hourly from desertions, and
that same night Lord Cobham gave himself up, and was taken to the Tower
as a prisoner.
“On Saturday in the morning, being the 3rd of February, there came
forth a proclamation, set forth by the Queen’s Council, wherein was
declared that that traitor Wyatt educed simple people against the
Queen. Wherefore, she willed all her loving subjects to endeavour
themselves to withstand him; and that the Duke of Suffolk with his two
brethren were discomfited by the Earl of Huntingdon, and certain of his
horsemen taken, and the Duke and his two brethren fled in servingman’s
coats; and that Sir Peter Carew was fled into France; and that Sir
Gawen Carew, Gibbs and others were taken and remain in Exeter; and that
the whole city of Exeter and commons thereabout, were at the Queen’s
commandment, with their power to the death. And that she did pardon the
whole camp except Wyatt, Harper, Rudston and Iseley; and that whoever
could take Wyat, except the said four persons, should have an hundred
pounds a year, to them and to their heirs for ever.”[404]
Nevertheless Wyatt pushed on boldly, in spite of his daily decreasing
numbers, and the disorganised state of his band, weary with trudging
day after day along the miry high-roads, exposed to the inclemency of
the prolonged winter. He reached Southwark, which he ravaged during
four terrible days, seeking how he might cross the river and capture
London. But the bridge had been hewn down, and he was obliged, after
his men had pillaged Gardiner’s house, and destroyed his library,
“so that a man might have gone up to the knees in the leaves of books
cut out and thrown under feet,”[405] to move out of the reach of
the batteries placed on the Tower walls. He marched up to Kingston,
where he effected a crossing. Here also the bridge had been partially
destroyed, but he swam over the Thames, and procured a boat, in which
he, with a few others, worked so successfully at its restoration that
by eleven o’clock at night his 7,000 men were able to pass over it.
The audacity of the feat filled London once more with consternation.
Gardiner threw himself on his knees, and entreated Mary to retire
into the Tower for safety. She replied, that if the Earl of Pembroke
and Lord Clinton, who had charge of the defence, would do their duty,
she would assuredly remain at her post. But she was the only calm
person in the whole panic-stricken palace. “The Queen’s ladies,” said
Underhill,[406] “made the greatest lamentations that night; they wept
and wrung their hands, and from their exclamations may be judged the
state of the interior of Whitehall. Alack! alack! they said, some great
mischief is toward. We shall all be destroyed this night. What a sight
is this, to see the queen’s bedchamber full of armed men! The like was
never seen or heard before!”
The struggle began at four o’clock in the morning (7th February),
and all through the day, Mary’s presence animated the courage of the
soldiers, and restored the confidence of the citizens; for “it was more
than marvel to see that day the invincible heart and constancy of the
queen”.[407] The way in which these were displayed adds to the force
of the picture. Mary might well have ridden up and down the ranks,
speaking gracious words, or have herself led her soldiers to battle.
She chose a more womanly way. “The Queen,” says Bishop Christopherson,
“while the field was fighting, was fervently occupied in praying. And
when as tidings was brought her that by treason all was lost, she like
a valiant champion of Christ, nothing abashed therewith, said that she
doubted not at all, but her Captain (meaning thereby our Saviour Jesus
Christ) would have the victory at length. And falling to her prayer
again, anon after, had she word brought her that her men had won the
field, and that Wyatt, her enemy’s captain was taken.”[408]
The story of that memorable day has been often told. Wyatt arrived near
the spot now covered by St. George’s Hospital, at Hyde Park Corner,
at about nine o’clock in the morning, and set up his standard in a
field. The numbers of his Kentish yeomanry, and burghers of Maidstone,
Canterbury and Rochester, had still further diminished during the past
night, many being glad to avail themselves of the pardon extended to
them in the Queen’s proclamation. Those who still remained lost heart,
when they saw the preparations that had been made to receive them. Ten
thousand infantry, fifteen hundred mounted troops, and a formidable
battery of cannon, lay between the insurgents and the gates of the
city. Wyatt, valiant to the last, resolved to fight his way through, in
the hope of being succoured by his friends within the walls. The ranks
of the Queen’s soldiers opened to let him pass, with about four hundred
of his men, then closed again, and having separated the leader from
the main body of his army, fell upon the wavering lines, and cut them
to pieces. Nearly five hundred of them were made prisoners, many were
wounded, and about a hundred were slain. Wyatt with his four hundred
men was allowed to proceed unchallenged. Halting at St. James’s, to
insult the gates of the palace, he then passed on towards Charing
Cross, where he encountered Sir John Gage, with a detachment of the
Queen’s Guards, and a number of gentlemen. Among them was Courtenay.
Either from fear, or with treacherous intent, at sight of Wyatt,
he fled in the direction of Whitehall, crying “All is lost!” Lord
Worcester and the Guards followed helter skelter, taking up the cry,
and causing a fresh panic, which was increased when they met a company
of Wyatt’s soldiers in search of their leader. These let fly a shower
of arrows into the palace windows, so that those within thought that
an attack was being made. But the Queen, indifferent to danger, came
out on to a balcony and cried that she was ready to descend into the
arena, and to die with those who remained faithful to her.
Wyatt had by this time, reached Ludgate, ignorant that his greatest
opportunity lay behind him. Had he retraced his steps, pursued
Courtenay and the Guards, he would have rejoined his men, and could
easily have captured the Queen. But in the meanwhile, he had suffered
under the fire of another detachment of Guards, which the Earl of
Pembroke was sending to Mary’s assistance, and his followers, fagged
and spiritless, numbered barely three hundred, when he knocked at
Ludgate for admittance.
His demand to be let in, on the lying ground that “the Queen had
granted all his petitions,” was met by the defiant answer of Lord
William Howard, “Avaunt traitor, thou shalt not come in here!” “And
then,” continues the Chronicle, “Wyat awhile stayed, and as some
say, rested him upon a seat [at] the Bellsavage gate; at last seeing
he could not come in, and belike being deceived of the aid which he
hoped out of the city, returned back again in array towards Charing
Cross, and was never stopped till he came to Temple Bar, where certain
horsemen which came from the field met them in the face; and then began
the fight again to wax hot, till an herald said to master Wyat, ‘Sir,
ye were best, by my counsel, to yield. You see this day is gone against
you, and in resisting ye can get no good, but be the death of all these
your soldiers, to your great peril of soul. Perchance ye may find the
Queen merciful, and the rather if ye stint so great a bloodshed as is
like here to be.’ Wyat herewith being somewhat astonished (although
he saw his men bent to fight it out to the death) said ‘Well, if I
shall needs yield, I will yield me to a gentleman’. To whom Sir Morice
Barkeley came straight up, and bade him leap up behind him; and another
took Thomas Cobham, and William Knevet, and so carried them behind them
upon their horses to the court. Then was taking of men on all sides. It
is said that in this conflict, one pikeman setting his back to the wall
at Saint James, kept seventeen horsemen off him a great time, and at
last was slain. At this battle, was slain in the field, by estimation
on both sides, not past forty persons, as far as could be learned by
certain that viewed the same; but there was many sore hurt, and some
think there was many slain in houses. The noise of women and children,
when the conflict was at Charing Cross, was so great and shrill, that
it was heard to the top of the White tower; and also the great shot was
well discerned there out of Saint James’ field. There stood upon the
leads there the lord Marquess [of Northampton], Sir Nicholas Poyns, Sir
Thomas Pope, Master John Seamer and others. From the battle, when one
came and brought word that the Queen was like to have the victory, and
that the horsemen had discomfited the tale of his enemies, the lord
Marquess for joy gave the messenger ten shillings in gold, and fell
in great rejoicing. Note that when Wyat was perceived to be comen to
Ludgate, and the mayor and his brethren heard thereof, thinking all had
not gone well with the Queen’s side, they were much amazed, and stood
as men half out of their lives, and many hollow hearts rejoiced in
London at the same.”[409]
According to another account, on “the 8th February, being Ash
Wednesday, early in the morning, the Earl of Pembroke, Lieutenant
of the Queen’s army, with the horsemen and footmen of the noblemen,
gathered their armies together with the Queen’s ordinance, and pitched
their field by St. James beyond Charing Cross, to abide the said
traitor Wyatt and his rebels. The Lord Mayor and the Lord Admiral set
the citizens in good array at Ludgate, Newgate, and from Cripplegate
to Bishopsgate, lest the rebels would draw to Finsbury field, they to
defend that side. Then Wyatt with his rebels came to the park pale by
St. James about 2 of the clock in the afternoon, and Knevett one of his
captains, with his rebels went by Tothill through Westminster, and shot
at the Court gates. But Wyatt, perceiving the great army of the Queen’s
camp, and ordinance bent against him, suddenly returned by the wall of
the park at St. James, toward Charing Cross, with the lightest of his
soldiers, when the Earl of Pembroke’s men cut off his train, and slew
divers of the rebels. But Wyatt himself, with divers other came in at
Temple Bar, and so through Fleetstreet to the Bell Savage, crying ‘A
Wyatt! a Wyatt! God save Queen Marie.’ But when he saw that Ludgate was
shut against him and the ordinance bent, he fled back again, saying ‘I
have kept touch;’ and by Temple Bar was taken, with the Lord Cobham’s
son, and other of his captains and rebels, and brought to the court
gate, and from thence sent by water to the Tower of London.”[410]
The next day, a solemn _Te Deum_ in thanksgiving for the Queen’s
victory was sung at St. Paul’s, and in every parish church the bells
were rung for joy.[411]
Mary, by her courage and great heart, had a second time triumphed over
the revolution. On the first occasion, she had magnanimously thought to
disarm, and win over the factious by an almost universal pardon. Three
victims only suffered the just punishment of their crimes; two were
held over as hostages for the peaceable behaviour of the others; the
rest obtained a full and free forgiveness. Such clemency was a complete
innovation. If Mary cannot be said to have been in advance, or even
abreast of her time, in many ways, she often rose above it, with the
inevitable result that she was misunderstood by some, and repaid by
others with the grossest ingratitude. The world has never been ripe for
a clemency such as she had extended to the insurgents after the first
rebellion. The elementary laws of rewards and punishments were alone
grasped by the people, accustomed to the frequent spectacle of revolt
followed by swift vengeance. The butchery with which Henry VIII. had
replied to the northern rising, though an everlasting blot on his name,
made him feared, and his authority respected. Elizabeth’s ruthless
punishment of the Catholics of the north, after their abortive efforts
to bring back the Mass, resulted in peace for the remainder of the
reign.
Mary’s wholesale forgiveness of the insurgents had been interpreted as
weakness, by a people who had not yet learned that mercy “becomes the
thronèd monarch better than his crown”. Charles V. had insisted that it
should be seasoned with a larger measure of justice, but in this one
point Mary had disregarded his advice. Now her eyes were opened. Had
the rebels been treated with proper severity, there would have been
no second outbreak. Had Suffolk fallen with Northumberland, as the
consequence of his share in Jane’s usurpation, his daughter would not
have constituted a danger to the State six months later. Even those who
had been implicated in the first plot were loud in maintaining that
there would now be no safety for the realm while Jane lived.[412]
Both she and her husband had already been found guilty by Parliament
of high treason, and sentence of death was passed in November 1553,
although but for Suffolk’s action they would undoubtedly both have been
pardoned. Now, however, recognising the disastrous consequences of her
mildness, Mary allowed herself to be guided by those who had from the
beginning advocated a policy of rigid justice; and on the day after
Wyatt’s arrest, she signed the warrant for their execution.
Modern writers have not hesitated to accuse Mary of cruelty and
vindictiveness in causing the death of two persons who, although
usurpers, were but tools in masterful and unscrupulous hands. This
opinion does not appear to have been shared by her contemporaries,
who threw the blame generally, not on the Queen, but on the Duke of
Suffolk, “who would have died more pitied for his weakness, if his
practices had not brought his daughter to her end”.[413] They argued,
that to lay claim to a throne is a matter of so deep an import, that
even in deploring the necessity of executing the Lady Jane and her
husband, “their death being not easily consented to, not even by the
Queen herself,” they could not help exculpating Mary, who adopted the
measure for State reasons and not from personal animosity.[414] It is
strange that, with so great a personal reputation for clemency, in the
midst of a ferocious age, Mary should have come to be regarded as an
example of unparalleled cruelty, by all subsequent generations. When we
remember that during nearly the whole of Elizabeth’s reign, the rack,
the thumbscrew and the terrible instrument known as “the Scavenger’s
Daughter” were never at rest, and that under Mary, contrary to the
custom of every court of justice in Europe, torture was seldom applied
to an accused person, the unfairness with which she has been treated
by historians is unmistakeably apparent. Contemporaneous annalists,
such as Holinshed and Stow, are guiltless of the injustice; Foxe was
the first of Mary’s libellers, and Strype, who wrote at the end of the
seventeenth century, was not only biassed by Foxe, but was embittered
by the mass of calumny heaped upon her memory by Anabaptists and
Iconoclasts.
The Bishop of Winchester, preaching before her on the 11th February,
“axed a boon of the Queen’s highness, that like as she had before time
extended her mercy particularly and privately, so through her lenity
and gentleness much conspiracy and open rebellion was grown, according
to the proverb _nimia familiaritas parit contemptum_; which he brought
then in for the purpose that she would now be merciful to the body of
the commonwealth, and conservation thereof, which could not be, unless
the rotten and hurtful members thereof were cut off and consumed”.[415]
The next day, Lady Jane Grey and Lord Guildford Dudley were beheaded,
he on Tower Hill, in presence of the people, she within the Tower
precincts, in consideration of her royal descent. Mary had sent them
permission to take leave of each other, but Jane declined the favour,
saying that they would meet soon in heaven. Before laying her head
on the block, she acknowledged in a few words her guilt in having
consented to her father-in-law’s treason, although she had not been one
of the original conspirators.
Brett, with twenty other prisoners, was taken into Kent to be
executed. On leaving the Tower, he expressed himself in these words: “I
am worthy of no less punishment than I do now go to suffer; for besides
mine offence, I refused life and grace three times when it was offered;
but I trust God did all for the best for me, that my soul might repent,
and thereby after this life attain to the more mercy and grace in his
sight”.[416]
When the extreme penalty of the law had been suffered by about sixty of
the most prominent rebels, a general pardon was extended to the mass
of the Kentish insurgents. Four hundred prisoners, with halters round
their necks, rode into the tilt yard at Whitehall, where the Queen,
from a balcony pardoned them, and ordered them to return home in peace.
Of those who still remained in the Tower, eight were pardoned by her
prerogative alone. Renard in his despatch of the 27th March says with
curious logic:—
“Sire, the Queen of England sent for me last Saturday, and told me
that persuaded by the Comptroller, Southwell, Petre, and those who
had examined the prisoners, she had pardoned eight of them, having
found no ground for suspecting or accusing them of treason in the late
rebellion. Among others were the Marquess of Northampton, affirming
that he had returned to the old religion, Cobham and his eldest son,
Davet (Daniel) and four others whom she did not name, and added that
from time immemorial, it had been the custom for the kings of England,
on Good Friday to pardon some prisoners. To this I answered that since
it had pleased her to dispense mercy, I could not and ought not to
make any objection, especially as she had done it by the advice of her
Councillors, but that she might have deferred the pardon till it had
been ascertained whether they were concerned in the plot or no; for
if they were, she had only thus increased the number of her enemies
by so many persons, setting them at liberty to strengthen Elizabeth’s
party.”[417]
He then goes on to say, that he had expressed doubts regarding the
coming of Philip, on account of the divisions in the Council, objecting
that he could not come in arms, and yet that if anything befell him,
it would be a most disastrous and lamentable scandal. He had advised
that the greatest precautions should be taken for his safety, and the
Queen had replied with tears in her eyes, that she would rather never
have been born, than that any harm should happen to the Prince, that
the Council would do their utmost to receive him worthily, that they
were making great expense with that object, that the Council should be
reformed and reduced to six members, a measure advised by Paget and
Petre, and that she, herself, would do all she could, to conciliate
her subjects in the matter. The people, she thought, were anxious for
the coming of his Highness, and she would exert every effort to have
the proceedings against Elizabeth and Courtenay concluded before his
arrival.[418] These proceedings had arisen from Wyatt’s behaviour in
the Tower, which was singularly at variance with his dashing courage
during the revolt. Being questioned with regard to two intercepted
notes which he had addressed to Elizabeth, the one advising her to
remove to Donnington, the other informing her of his triumphant arrival
at Southwark, Wyatt admitted having written to her more than once.
Lord Russell, only son of the Earl of Bedford, owned to having carried
letters between him and the Princess, and Croft confessed that he had
urged her to go to Donnington. All this, together with an intercepted
packet containing three letters from de Noailles to Henry II., and a
copy of a letter from Elizabeth to the Queen, in answer to one which
Mary had sent her, added to Elizabeth’s refusal to obey Mary’s summons,
constituted strong presumptive evidence that she was in league with the
rebels.[419] Wyatt then denounced Courtenay, who was at once arrested
and brought to the Tower, where the two were confronted with each
other, Wyatt accusing him of being as great a traitor as himself. He
further declared that the object of his rising was to place Courtenay
and Elizabeth on the throne. He subsequently repeated the statement,
and the second time added, that Monsieur d’Oysel, who came to London in
January, on his way to Scotland to take up his functions as ambassador
of France at that court, had united his efforts to those of de
Noailles, and that they had conspired with Croft to prevent the Queen’s
marriage, and to compass her death. The King of France, to enable them
the more easily to carry on the chief enterprise, having promised
them men and money, was to attack Calais and Guisnes, the moment they
set foot in London. Besides this, he was to organise a descent from
Scotland, with which object he had already sent some officers to that
country, to prepare the way, and he purposed despatching the Vidame de
Chartres, with artillery, ammunition, money and soldiers, to begin the
war in conjunction with the Scots.[420]
It was not until Wyatt had directly accused Elizabeth of connivance
with Henry II. that Mary was convinced of the necessity of securing
her person. More than a fortnight had elapsed since the Princess had
declared herself unable to travel, and there was still no sign of her
coming. The Queen now repeated the summons, but not, as Foxe would have
us believe, with inconsiderate cruelty, and rough haste. Lord William
Howard, her uncle, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, who
were sent to escort her, treated her throughout with courtesy and
consideration. The Queen’s two physicians accompanied them, in order
to decide whether she were well enough to travel, and that she might
accomplish the journey with the greatest amount of comfort possible,
Mary sent her own litter.
“The Lord Admiral, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallays to
the Queen.
“In humble wise. It may please your Highness to be advertised, that
yesterday immediately upon our arrival at Ashridge, we required to have
access unto my Lady Elizabeth’s Grace, which obtained, we delivered
unto her your Highness’s letter, and I the Lord Admiral, declared
the effect of your Highness’s pleasure, according to the credence
given to us, being before advertised of her estate by your Highness’s
physicians, by whom we did perceive the estate of her body to be such,
that without danger to her person, we might well proceed to require
her in your Majesty’s name (all excuses set apart) to repair to your
Highness, with all convenient speed and diligence. Whereunto, we found
her Grace very willing and conformable, save only that she much feared
her weakness to be so great, that she should not be able to travel and
to endure the journey without peril of life, and therefore desired
some longer respite, until she had better recovered her strength; but
in conclusion, upon the persuasion as well of us as of her own council
and servants, whom we assure your Highness, we have found very ready
and forward to the accomplishment of your Highness’s pleasure in this
behalf, she is resolved to remove her hence to-morrow, towards your
Highness, with such journeys as, by a paper herein enclosed, your
Highness shall perceive, further declaring to your Highness that her
Grace much desireth, if it might stand with your Highness’s pleasure,
that she might have a lodging, at her coming to the Court, somewhat
further from the water than she had at her last being there; which your
physicians, considering the state of her body, thinketh very meet, who
have travailed very earnestly with her Grace, both before our coming
and after, in this matter. And after her first day’s journey, one of
us shall await upon your Highness to declare more at large the whole
estate of our proceedings here.”[421]
The distance from Ashridge to Westminster is thirty-three miles. It was
decided to accomplish the journey in five days, so that Elizabeth might
have ample time to rest on the road, but on her reaching Highgate,
she was so ill from some unknown cause, some declaring from poison,
others from apprehension, remorse and anger, others again imputing a
still more disgraceful reason for her malady, that a week passed before
the last stage could be undertaken. By some indeed it was maintained
that she was not ill at all, but that the delay was occasioned by
Lord William Howard’s desire to screen her, and by his hope that the
Queen’s anger might subside before she reached Westminster.[422]
Elizabeth was fully aware, not only of the danger of her situation,
on account of the depositions of the conspirators in the Tower, but
also of the reports circulated against her honour, and her courage
rose as her need became desperate. She had long been an adept in the
art of self-defence, and it was on occasions such as this, that her
talents shone most brightly. On the 22nd February, between four and
five o’clock in the afternoon, escorted by 200 gentlemen of the Queen’s
court, she descended the steep hill that lies to the north-west of
London, and proceeded to Westminster. The people flocked in immense
crowds to meet her, lining both sides of the road, and testifying, now
by a mournful silence, now by sighs and groans, their sympathy with her
condition.
Renard thus describes the scene:—
“The lady Elizabeth arrived here yesterday, clad completely in white,
surrounded by a great assemblage of the servants of the Queen, besides
her own people. She caused her litter to be uncovered, that she might
show herself to the people. Her countenance was pale, her look proud,
lofty and superbly disdainful; an expression which she assumed to
disguise the mortification she felt. The Queen declined seeing her, and
caused her to be accommodated in a quarter of her palace, from which
neither she nor her servants could go out, without passing through the
guards. Of her suite, only two gentlemen, six ladies and four servants
are permitted to wait on her; the rest of her train being lodged in the
city of London. The Queen is advised to send her to the Tower, since
she is accused by Wyatt, named in the letters of the French ambassador,
suspected by her own councillors, and it is certain that the enterprise
was undertaken in her favour. And assuredly, Sire, if now that the
occasion offers, they do not punish her and Courtenay, the Queen will
never be secure; for I have many misgivings that if, when she sets out
for the parliament, they leave Elizabeth in the Tower, some treasonable
means will be found to deliver either Courtenay or her, or both, so
that the last error will be worse than the first.”[423]
Parliament had been summoned to meet at Oxford, on the 2nd April, and
after the session Mary thought of establishing herself at York, in
the midst of a Catholic population, a convenient port being in the
vicinity. But the Londoners viewed her proposed withdrawal from their
city with alarm. The removal of the seat of government from Westminster
would deprive them of that consideration which they had always enjoyed;
the absence of the court would divest them effectually of their
prestige, and the transference of commerce from the Thames to the Tees
and the Humber would involve them in financial ruin. This triple loss
was apparently to be the only result to them of the blood that had
been shed in the cause of independence, and for which they had been
largely responsible. The anticipation of it did more to awaken their
loyalty, than the spectacle they had lately witnessed of Mary’s queenly
courage in the midst of dangers that had paralysed them with fear, or
her noble words to them on the eve of the contest at the Guildhall.
Overshadowed by the prospect of substantial material losses, they
forgot the bugbears with which the French ambassador had threatened
them, if the Spaniards should come—forgot that they were to be reduced
to slavery, to have the Inquisition forced upon them, and to suffer
dishonour and untold horrors, the common heritage of a subjugated race.
They petitioned the Queen humbly to remain in their midst, promising
to render her all the help in their power, and to welcome whatever
marriage she desired.[424]
In consequence of this petition, Parliament met at Westminster, and
the Queen abandoned her intention of removing the court to the north.
The Royal Marriage Bill was discussed, and passed unanimously in both
Houses, after which Mary dissolved Parliament in person, delivering an
address that was frequently interrupted by cheers and acclamation.
Both Lords and Commons assured her at its close, that the Prince of
Spain would be welcomed on his arrival by a dutiful and affectionate
people.[425]
The preliminary formalities between the contracting parties,
interrupted by the rebellion, had been resumed. Count Egmont had
returned to England, bringing with him the ratification of the
marriage treaty, and a letter of instructions from Charles. He was to
represent to Mary, that as God had been pleased once more to give her
the victory over her enemies, and to deliver them into her hands, she
should, as they had before so largely abused the clemency with which
she had treated them, and in case they had not yet been brought to
execution, not delay to do so, but that their chastisement should be
prompt, and that she should rid herself of those whose will was so evil
towards her, that she might strike terror into the hearts of others.
Those who were to be pardoned should be pardoned also promptly, that
their fears being removed, they might the sooner lose the desire to
attempt anything further against her. Courtenay and Elizabeth should
be secured,[426] and the Queen should reflect that in the matter of
so manifest a conspiracy against her person, the smallest evidence of
guilt might be taken into account, and the persons suspected should be
put into a place where they would have no longer the opportunity of
doing harm. He added that if the Privy Council could not be induced to
proceed against Courtenay, he would be better out of the kingdom than
in it, for if the people no longer saw him they would soon forget him.
He ought to be either shut up in the Tower or got rid of.
With regard to the mischievous practices of the French ambassador,
Egmont was to represent to the Queen, that it would be well, either to
send him back to France at once, or to imprison him till he should be
recalled, to prevent his doing further harm, giving the French King
to understand in either case, what grave cause she had to proceed
severely, he having acted in such a manner as to lose altogether his
privileges as ambassador. Egmont was also to advise Mary to obtain the
recall of the Venetian ambassador, Sorranzo.[427]
With unparalleled effrontery, both the French and Venetian ambassadors
presented themselves at court, and congratulated Mary on her victory.
The Council thought it advisable that the Queen should conceal her
indignation for a time, and she, therefore, received them courteously.
De Noailles was, however, closely watched, a measure which he was not
slow to perceive, and complain of, whereupon Mary in an audience of the
1st March, reproached him vehemently with having stirred up the late
rebellion, and with continuing the same line of conduct with respect to
some of Wyatt’s accomplices who had fled into France, meaning probably
the Carews and their friends.
De Noailles, of course, denied all that he dared, promised to give
entire satisfaction as to the rest, and proceeded forthwith to concoct
schemes, by which his promises would be entirely stultified. All that
he relates henceforth touching the Queen’s marriage, the punishment of
the rebels, and the restoration of the Catholic worship, is coloured
by personal animosity, and must be received with caution, his new
resentment and annoyance rendering his testimony less trustworthy than
before.
On the day after Elizabeth’s arrival at Westminster, the Duke of
Suffolk was beheaded on Tower Hill. He confessed his guilt, and
expressed a hope that the Queen would forgive him.
“My Lord, her grace hath already forgiven and prayeth for you,” said
Dr. Weston, his confessor. “Then,” continued the Duke, “I beseech you
all good people, to let me be an example to you all for obedience to
the Queen and the magistrates, for the contrary thereof hath brought me
to this end.”[428] He called them to witness that he died “a faithful
and true Christian, believing to be saved by none other but only by
Almighty God through the Passion of his Son Jesus Christ”. His brother
Thomas, who was believed to have incited him to rebellion, was also
executed, but the Lord John Grey, who was taken with him, was pardoned
by the Queen.
At his trial, Wyatt pleaded guilty, and made no defence. He referred
his interrogators to his written declaration, and refused to enter
into further details. He was condemned to death, but his execution was
deferred for a month, in the hope of his giving further information as
to the other implicated persons. His accusation of Elizabeth made it
necessary that she should be examined, but the result obtained might
have been a foregone conclusion. When the Chancellor, with nine members
of the Council, went to Westminster, and charged her with complicity
in the plot, she replied boldly that she knew nothing of it whatever.
Gardiner entreated her for her own sake to throw herself on the Queen’s
mercy, and to crave her pardon. But she answered proudly that this
would be to confess a crime, and that forgiveness was only extended to
the guilty. First, her guilt must be proved, in which case she would
follow the Chancellor’s advice.[429] They were obliged to leave without
having gained anything by their visit. The councillors were more
than ever divided. Those among them who secretly favoured Elizabeth
maintained that the legal proof against her was insufficient to
justify her being sent to the Tower; the Spanish party were for giving
her short shrift. Others again thought that she ought to be closely
guarded, but not imprisoned. Mary availed herself of this loophole, and
caused each lord of the Council in succession to be asked to undertake
the custody of the Princess in his own house. Not one was willing to
accept the dangerous office, and when all had refused it, a warrant was
made out for her committal to the Tower.[430]
Thoroughly alarmed, and fully expecting to suffer the same fate as her
unfortunate mother, Elizabeth denied with oaths and curses that she
had ever had any letter from Wyatt, that she had ever written to the
French King, or consented to anything that might endanger the Queen’s
life. Haughtily she begged those who brought her the news to remember
who she was. An hour later, the Earl of Sussex and two other members of
the Council dismissed her suite, leaving her only one gentleman, three
ladies and two servants. Guards were placed in her antechamber, and in
the garden under her windows. The next morning, Saturday, 17th March,
the Earl of Sussex and the Marquis of Winchester announced that her
barge was in attendance to convey her to the Tower. Her scornful mood
having changed to one of deep depression, she entreated to be allowed
to wait for the next tide. Lord Winchester answered her tritely, that
time and tide waited for no man, whereupon she begged that they would
at least permit her to write a few lines to the Queen. Winchester again
refused, but the Earl of Sussex, more friendly, gave her leave, and
swore that he himself would deliver her letter, and bring her back the
answer. She was so long in writing it, that the tide no longer served,
and Elizabeth scored her usual point of delay. She obtained, indeed,
twenty-four hours respite, for her guards would not risk the midnight
tide, for fear of a rescue under cover of the darkness. Mary, extremely
displeased, exclaimed with some bitterness that in her father’s time
they would not have dared to take upon themselves such disobedience,
and vouchsafed no answer to Elizabeth’s letter.
The next day being Palm Sunday, at nine o’clock the warrant was
executed, and the Princess conducted through the guards to her barge,
which was moored at the water entrance to the palace. Foxe says,[431]
“Being come forth into the garden, she did cast her eyes towards the
window, thinking to have seen the Queen, which she could not: whereat
she said, she marvelled much what the nobility of the realm meant,
which in that sort would suffer her to be led into captivity, the Lord
knew whither, for she did not,” a remark which, perhaps, savoured of
treason more than anything else she allowed to escape her.
According to the chronicler already often quoted:—
“The 18th March, being 1553 [1554], the lady Elizabeth’s grace,
the queen’s sister, was conveyed to the Tower, from the court at
Westminster, about ten of the clock in the forenoon, by water;
accompanying her the Marquis of Northampton [probably a mistake for
Winchester] and the Earl of Sussex. There was at the Tower to receive
her, the lord Chamberlain. She was taken in at the drawbridge. It is
said when she came in, she said to the warders and soldiers, looking up
to heaven, ‘Oh Lord, I never thought to have come in here as prisoner;
and I pray you all, good friends and fellows, bear me witness, that
I come in no traitor, but as true a woman to the Queen’s Majesty as
any is now living; and thereon will I take my death’. And so, going
a little further, she said to my lord Chamberlain, ‘What, are all
these harnessed men here for me?’ And he said, ‘No, Madam’. ‘Yes,’ she
said, ‘I know it is so; it needed not for me, being alas! but a weak
woman.’ It is said that when she was in, the lord Treasurer and the
lord Chamberlain began to lock the doors very straitly; then the Earl
of Sussex with weeping eyes said, ‘What will ye do, my lords? What mean
ye therein? She was a king’s daughter, and is the queen’s sister; and
ye have no sufficient commission so to do; therefore go no further than
your commission, which I know what it is.’”[432]
Elizabeth’s trial began five days after her committal. Gardiner,
accompanied by nine members of the Privy Council, proceeded to an
interrogatory, concerning what had passed between the Princess
and Sir James Croft, as to her proposed removal from Ashridge to
Donnington. She feigned at first not to know that she had such a house
as Donnington, but after a moment’s reflection, said that she did
remember having such a place, but that she had never been inside it.
Confronted with Croft, she was asked what she had to say of him, and
she replied, that she had no more to do with him than with any of
the other prisoners in the Tower, declaring with great dignity that
if they had done ill, and had offended the Queen’s Majesty, it was
their business to answer for it; and she begged that she might not be
associated with criminals of that sort.
“Concerning my going to Donnington Castle,” she continued, “I do
remember that Master Hoby and mine officers, and you, Sir James Croft,
had such talk. But what is that to the purpose, my lords, but that I
may go to my houses at all times?”[433]
Nothing further could be obtained from her; and the Emperor demanded in
vain that she should be executed. Mary, although personally convinced
of her guilt, as were so many others, would not have her condemned on
the evidence of the intercepted letters, because they were written
in cypher, which easily lent itself to forgery.[434] In her first
Parliament, she had restored the ancient constitutional law of England,
by which overt or spoken acts of treason must be proved, before any
English person could be convicted as a traitor; and from this position
the Queen would not move. She told Renard, that she herself, and her
Council, were labouring to discover the truth, but that the law must be
maintained.
Nevertheless, Elizabeth’s enemies neither slumbered nor slept, and if
we may trust the author[435] of a book called _England’s Elizabeth_,
published in 1631, a warrant was actually handed in at the Tower, for
her execution, under the Queen’s seal, but without her signature.
The Lieutenant, Sir John Bridges, in the absence of the Constable,
suspecting foul play, hastened with it to the Queen, who denied all
knowledge of the warrant, and expressed great indignation against the
Chancellor, who was probably responsible. According to this author,
the Queen summoned Gardiner, and several others to her presence, and
“blamed them for their inhuman usage of her sister, and took measures
for her greater security”. But as the story is unsupported by any
corroboration, it seems likely that it was, in its circumstantial
points, an invention. Gardiner was known to protect Elizabeth against
the clamour of the imperial ambassador for her execution, and indeed
he befriended her all through. Nevertheless, there was a very general
impression, that her life would have been in danger but for Mary’s
determination that the law should not be infringed. It was for
Elizabeth’s greater safety that Mary appointed Sir Henry Bedingfeld to
be her custodian in the Tower, giving her at the same time leave to
walk in the Queen’s lodging, provided that she did not look out through
any of the windows, there being so many prisoners in the Tower at that
time. A little later, leave was given to her to take the air in the
garden, the doors and gates being shut. Here, the child of one of the
warders was allowed to come and talk to her sometimes, until it was
suspected that Courtenay contrived to communicate with her, by means of
a basket of flowers and figs, whereupon the indulgence was withdrawn.
Mary’s solemn betrothal to Philip had taken place on the return of
Count Egmont from Brussels, with the Emperor’s ratification of the
marriage treaty. The members of the Privy Council having waited on the
Queen at Whitehall, Mary proceeded to her oratory, when Egmont was
introduced by the Lord Admiral, and the Earl of Pembroke. She knelt
down before the altar, and called God to witness the truth of the words
she was about to speak. Then rising, and turning towards the assistants
(most of whom were in favour of the marriage, and therefore not to be
cajoled by her words into toleration of it), she declared that she had
not resolved to marry through dislike of celibacy, nor had she chosen
the Prince of Spain through any respect of kindred, her chief object
being the furtherance of the honour and tranquillity of the realm.
She had, she said, pledged her faith to her people on her coronation
day, and it was her steadfast resolve to redeem that pledge. She
would never permit affection for her husband to seduce her from the
performance of this, the first and most sacred of her duties. As Mary
ceased speaking, Egmont advanced, and placed on her finger a costly
ring, sent by the Emperor on behalf of his son.[436]
Renard, in the meanwhile, took great credit to himself for the
promptness with which the rebellion had been quelled. It was no doubt
partly due to his advice to the Queen, to remain at her post, at a
critical moment, when all other counsellors were entreating her to fly,
that the rebels had been put to rout. With great self-complacency, he
informed the Emperor, that all the members of the Queen’s Privy Council
had become very intimate with him, and admitted that “the firmness of
the said Lady had alone gained the victory, for in leaving London,
she would have involved the kingdom in danger and ruin”. He remarked
however, on the admirable conduct of the English nobility, at the
battle of London, and dealt a passing blow at Courtenay, and the young
Earl of Worcester, whose cowardice had prompted them to remain always
in the rear, without once charging the enemy, but spreading the alarm
that the rebels had the advantage, crying out that all was lost, the
wish being father to the thought.[437]
But when he went on to express satisfaction at seeing peace
re-established, Wyatt discredited by the people, a large number of
the nobility well-disposed towards the marriage, and the popular
prejudice against it less acute, his credulity clearly overstepped the
boundary of facts. The people’s prejudice, thanks to the agitators,
was certainly not less acute, the vexed question of the marriage
being still inextricably involved in that of religion. To express
their hatred of both, the London rabble hung a cat on the gallows
in Cheapside “clothed like a priest, and that same day, held it up
before the preacher at Paul’s Cross”.[438] During a procession in
Smithfield, a man tore the consecrated Host out of the priest’s hand,
and drew a dagger. He was seized and taken to Newgate.[439] A musket
was discharged at a priest during a sermon, when he was surrounded by
nearly four thousand people.
No wonder that Philip delayed his coming! If he escaped the arrow
flying by day, how could he guard himself against the hidden enemy
that might be lurking in the dish and the cup? Even Renard at last
ceased to cry “peace” when all the time there was no security. “It is
well-nigh impossible to foresee what the English may do,” he wrote to
the Emperor, and advised him to send over a competent steward, “against
the arrival of his Highness,” a man of good appearance, adroitness
and experience, to superintend the preparing of his food, and to
make acquaintance with the officials, and with the customs of the
country; otherwise dire confusion and danger would ensue. The want of
understanding between Renard and the Queen’s English advisers increased
the difficulties at every step. Mary and her Council were for treating
the peace disturbers as heretics. The enormities which they practised
were all directed against religion, and it seemed just that the
punishment should be adapted to the offence. But Renard knew full well
that this mode of procedure would but increase the public irritation
against Spain, which was at the bottom of the disturbances, and still
further complicate the political situation. He never ceased admonishing
the Queen to have these outrages dealt with as seditious, and on the
22nd March wrote:—
“Things are in such disorder, that we know not who is well-disposed
or ill-disposed, constant or inconstant, loyal or traitorous. One
thing is certain, that the Chancellor has been extremely remiss in
proceeding against the criminals, and most ardent and hot-headed in
the affairs of religion, being so hated in this kingdom, that I have
doubts whether the detestation against him will not recoil on the
Queen. Assuredly, Sire, I have never ceased to admonish her as to the
necessity of a prompt punishment of the prisoners. I have given her
Thucydides translated into French, so that she may understand what
advice he gives, and what kind of punishment ought to be inflicted on
rebels.”[440]
Renard’s natural dislike of Gardiner, and the divergence of their aims,
probably spoke here more eloquently than the fact justified. Other
evidence will show that Gardiner was not hated, even by the reformers,
with the exception of Foxe.
But there was ample ground for Renard’s fear lest Mary’s popularity
should decline, and not least among the reasons for such a decline
was the fact, that she had abrogated the law framed by her father, by
which libels on the sovereign were punishable by death. The country
was inundated, at this time, with foul and scurrilous sermons and
pamphlets, the perpetrators screening themselves behind the Queen’s
strictly constitutional mode of government, knowing that the utmost
penalty for language that would be an insult to the meanest woman in
the land, and which they freely indulged in to vilify their Queen,
would but cause them a brief and slight inconvenience. Thus we hear of
two men in the pillory in Cheapside “for horrible lies and seditious
words against the Queen’s Majesty and her Council,”[441] and this kind
of punishment became now of frequent occurrence, although most of the
slanders were anonymous, and could never be traced to their authors.
As to Renard’s constant refrain that “the prisoners,” meaning of
course Elizabeth and Courtenay, should be promptly punished, it must
be admitted that he spoke with full knowledge of the danger they
represented. Their names were ever on the lips of the rebels, and
on the 7th April a letter was found dropped in the street, in favour
of the Princess, “as seditious as could possibly be conceived”. Even
Gardiner confessed that there was no hope of peace or tranquillity
for the realm while she was in it, and he advised that she should be
sent abroad, and placed under the care of the Queen of Hungary, the
Emperor’s sister.
Sir Thomas Wyatt was brought to the scaffold on the 12th April,[442]
and so contradictory are the statements as to his conduct and words at
the moment of death, concerning the guilt of the accused pair, that
absolutely nothing can be deduced from them. According to the sheriffs
who were present at his last interview with Courtenay, Wyatt asked
his pardon for accusing him. According to Lord Chandos, who was also
present, he urged Courtenay to confess his crime. On the scaffold he is
said to have uttered these words: “Where it is noised abroad, that I
should accuse the Lady Elizabeth and the Lord Courtenay, it is not so,
good people; for I assure you, neither they nor any other now yonder in
hold, was privy of my rising before I began, as I have declared no less
to the Queen’s Council, and that is most true”. Upon this, however,
Weston said: “Mark this, my masters, that that which he hath shown
to the Council of them in writing is true,” and Wyatt by his silence
implied that he consented to what Weston had said.[443] But as no fresh
evidence was forthcoming, and as the case against Elizabeth had not
been formally proved, she was released from the Tower on the 18th May,
exactly two months after her committal. As she left, three volleys of
artillery were discharged from the Steelyard in sign of rejoicing and
congratulation.[3] A few days later Courtenay was also released, and
sent to Fotheringhay.
Sir Henry Bedingfeld had already for some time had the charge of the
Princess, and it was to his care, and that of the Lord Williams of
Thame, that she was confided, on her removal to Woodstock. Foxe’s
account of the supposed insults offered to her by Sir Henry Bedingfeld,
totally unsupported by any other evidence, falls into the region of
romance, the source of much that has been written about Elizabeth at
this period. When she came to the throne Bedingfeld frequently appeared
at court and was on the best terms with her, she playfully styling him
her jailer.
Nevertheless, Elizabeth was very closely kept and watched during the
months of her captivity at Woodstock, allowed to see none but those
appointed to be near her, and deprived of materials for writing, even
to Mary, unless with direct permission. It would, however, have been
very unlike what we know of her astuteness, if she had not contrived
means of communication with her friends. It was shortly before leaving
Woodstock, that she wrote with a diamond on a pane of glass, the famous
three lines, two of which sum up the whole case for and against her:—
Much suspected by me,
Nothing proved can be,
Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner.
At last Philip showed signs of leaving Spain. On the 19th June,
arrived his precursor, the Marquis de las Naves, bringing presents
for the bride. These were: “A great table diamond mounted as a rose,
in a superb gold setting, and valued at 50,000 ducats; a necklace of
eighteen brilliants, worth 32,000 ducats; a great diamond, with a fine
pearl pendant from it, worth 25,000 ducats, and other jewels, pearls,
diamonds, emeralds and rubies of inestimable value, for the Queen and
her ladies”.
Philip left Valladolid on the 4th May, and his progress through the
north-western provinces of Spain was a splendid pageant, for the crowds
of spectators that flocked to meet him, with demonstrations of intense
and passionate devotion. He remained several days at Compostella to
pay homage to the patron saint of Spain. Here, he signed his marriage
contract, brought from England by the Earl of Bedford, and then
proceeded to Corunna, where a flotilla of more than a hundred sail was
anchored in the bay.
Accompanied by 4,000 picked troops, destined for the Netherlands, he
embarked with a numerous suite, including the Flemish Counts, Egmont
and Horn, the Dukes of Alva and Medina Cœli, the Prince of Eboli, the
Count, afterwards Duke, of Feria, and all the flower of the Spanish
nobility, together with their wives, their vassals, musicians, and
even jesters, and a number of useless servants, in order to swell his
train, add to the splendour of his cortège, and impart a notion of his
magnificence.
The imperial ambassador in London had advised him to come with as
little state as possible, “in order not to excite the jealousy of the
English,” but perhaps the philosophy of the younger man was deeper than
that of the statesman. The good-will of a people may be won by frank
simplicity; their ill-will is rarely conquered but by a display of
power and circumstance, which commands their respect.
After an agreeable sail of a few days, the Spanish fleet encountered
that of England, commanded by Lord William Howard, who was lying in
wait for the Prince, in order to conduct him into British waters. The
Admiral at once offended the Spaniards, by speaking of their ships as
mussel-shells; and it was reported, that on nearing the Spanish fleet,
he ordered a salvo of cannon to be fired, to oblige the Spaniards to
lower their flag in returning the salute, thereby acknowledging the
supremacy of the English. If these reports reached Philip’s ears, they
would be eloquent to him of the spirit stirring beneath the apparent
cordiality of his welcome. But there was nothing in the grave courtesy
of his manner, and in the high breeding which gave dignity to his
slight and otherwise almost insignificant figure, to indicate that he
was not solemnly satisfied with all that he heard and saw.
On the 19th July, the united fleets anchored in Southampton water.
Immediately, a number of small craft put out, and foremost among them
the Queen’s own yacht, superbly decorated, and manned with officers
wearing the royal livery of green and white, to bring the Prince to
land.[444]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 378: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 310.]
[Footnote 379: Nevertheless, Froude has no authority for the assertion,
in support of which he has interpolated words into Renard’s despatch
of the 17th December 1553, to the effect that the Queen was bent on
Elizabeth’s death (vol. vi., p. 129). No such words occur in the letter
to which he refers (Record Office Transcripts, vol. i., p. 853) or in
any other.]
[Footnote 380: Record Office Transcripts, Belgian Archives, vol. i., p.
603.]
[Footnote 381: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 382: _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 310.]
[Footnote 383: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 34.]
[Footnote 384: Machyn, p. 50.]
[Footnote 385: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. ii., p. 234, etc.
Lingard, vol. vii., p. 147.]
[Footnote 386: Charles himself proposed that Philip should have no
share in the government.]
[Footnote 387: So highly was this treaty esteemed by the statesmen of
the following reign, that in the negotiations for a marriage between
Elizabeth and the Duke of Anjou, the marriage articles of Philip and
Mary were repeatedly quoted in a memorial endorsed by Lord Burghley,
and still preserved at Hatfield, in answer to objections brought
forward against the Queen’s marriage with a foreign prince. “It behoves
her Majesty” said Elizabeth’s ministers, “to have the like proceedings
herein as was for Queen Mary’s marriage.” The country should not be
governed by a foreigner, but by the Queen herself and her Council, by
the laws of the realm “as it was in the time of King Philip and Queen
Mary” (Historical MSS. Commission, Hatfield MSS., vol. ii., pp. 241,
243, 288, 291-93, 544, 556).]
[Footnote 388: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 34.]
[Footnote 389: Friedmann, _Dépêches de Giovanni Michiel_, introd., p.
xxi.]
[Footnote 390: Mary had only promised to make no changes other than
those approved by Parliament. With regard to her marriage, she had
given no promise at all.]
[Footnote 391: Griffet, p. xxv.]
[Footnote 392: Renard to Charles V., Feb. 1554, _Papiers d’Etat du
Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p. 405.]
[Footnote 393: Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. iii., part i.,
p. 126.]
[Footnote 394: Record Office Transcripts, vol. ii., p. 287.]
[Footnote 395: Rosso, _I Successi d’Inghilterra_, p. 44.]
[Footnote 396: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 37.]
[Footnote 397: Heylin, pp. 165-263.]
[Footnote 398: _Diary_, p. 52.]
[Footnote 399: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 38 _et seq._]
[Footnote 400: “The saying of William Cotman in the County of Kent,
Smith, this present Tuesday, January 1553” (1554). Printed in Tytler’s
_England under the Reigns of Edward VI. and Mary_, vol. ii., p. 277.
The people were fed with falsehoods; the Devonshire and Cornish men
refused to stir, and Hampshire was quiet.]
[Footnote 401: Record Office Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 1175-76.]
[Footnote 402: _A Chronicle of England_, vol. ii., p. 108.]
[Footnote 403: Foxe, _Acts and Monuments_, vol. vi., p. 414.]
[Footnote 404: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 41.]
[Footnote 405: Stowe, p. 619.]
[Footnote 406: _Edward Underhill’s Journal_, Strype, vol. iii., pt. i.,
p. 137.]
[Footnote 407: Holinshed, p. 1098.]
[Footnote 408: “Exhortation against Rebellion,” printed in the
_Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc. (Additions and Corrections), p. 188.]
[Footnote 409: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 50.]
[Footnote 410: Wriothesley, p. 110.]
[Footnote 411: Machyn, p. 55.]
[Footnote 412: Strype, _Memorials_, vol. iii., pt. i., p. 141.]
[Footnote 413: _Ibid._, p. 146.]
[Footnote 414: Burnet, vol. ii., p. 437.]
[Footnote 415: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 54.]
[Footnote 416: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 61.]
[Footnote 417: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts.]
[Footnote 418: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 1200-9,
and vol. ii., p. 1.]
[Footnote 419: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 420: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts, vol. i., pp. 1200-9,
and vol. ii., p. 1.]
[Footnote 421: Record Office, State Papers, Domestic, 1554, vol. iii.,
21: Ashridge, 11th Feb.]
[Footnote 422: Record Office, Transcripts, vol. i., p. 1223. De
Noailles, vol. iii., p. 78. It was of course the French ambassador who
suggested poison as the possible cause of her illness.]
[Footnote 423: Record Office Transcripts, Belgian Archives, vol. ii.,
p. 4; printed by Tytler, _England under the Reigns of Edward VI. and
Mary_, vol. ii., p. 310.]
[Footnote 424: _Ibid._ Griffet, p. 39.]
[Footnote 425: Lingard, vol. v., p. 441 _et seq._]
[Footnote 426: The Emperor was evidently unaware that Courtenay was
already in the Tower.]
[Footnote 427: Record Office Transcripts, vol. ii., Instructions of
Charles V. to Count Egmont.]
[Footnote 428: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 64.]
[Footnote 429: Foxe, vol. viii., p. 607. Heywood, _England’s
Elizabeth_, p. 89.]
[Footnote 430: Lingard and Miss Strickland have supposed with Griffet,
that Mary herself questioned the Lords of the Privy Council on this
subject. But Wiesener points out (_La Jeunesse d’Elisabeth_, p. 224
note) that in the document on which P. Griffet supports the statement,
namely, Renard’s letter of the 22nd March, no mention is made of the
Queen’s presence at that sitting; and he agrees with Froude that the
question was probably put by the Chancellor.]
[Footnote 431: Vol. viii., p. 608.]
[Footnote 432: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 70.]
[Footnote 433: Foxe, vol. viii., p. 610.]
[Footnote 434: Elizabeth herself had no such scruple at the trial
of Mary Queen of Scots, who was convicted on evidence obtained from
letters written in cypher, and which she persistently declared to be
forgeries.]
[Footnote 435: Thomas Heywood.]
[Footnote 436: Griffet, p. 39.]
[Footnote 437: Renard, _Ses Ambassades et ses Négociations_, par M.
Tridon, p. 198 note.]
[Footnote 438: _Grey Friars’ Chronicle_, p. 88. “A dead cat having a
cloth like a vestment of the priest at Mass with a cross on it afore,
and another behind put on it; the crown of the cat shorn, a piece of
paper like a singing-cake put between the forefeet of the
said cat, bound together, which cat was hanged on the post of the
gallows in Cheap, beyond the Cross, in the parish of St. Matthew, and
a bottle hanged by it; which cat was taken down at 6 of the clock in
the morning, and carried to the Bishop of London, and he caused it
to be showed openly in the sermon time at Paul’s Cross, in the sight
of all the audience there present. The Lord Mayor with his brethren,
the aldermen of the city of London, caused a proclamation to be made
that afternoon, that whosoever could utter, or show the author of the
said fact, should have £6 13s. 4d. for his pains, and a better reward
with hearty thanks. But at that time after much enquiry and search
made, it could not be known, but divers persons were had to prison for
suspicions of it” (Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 114).]
[Footnote 439: Machyn, _Diary_, p. 64.]
[Footnote 440: Record Office, Belgian Transcripts, vol. ii.]
[Footnote 441: Machyn, _Diary_, p. 64.]
[Footnote 442: “The xii day of April was Sir Thomas Wyatt set upon the
gallows on Hay Hill, beside Hyde Park, where did hang three men in
chains, where the Queen’s men and Wyatt’s men did skirmish, where he
and his captains were overcome, thank be to God” (Machyn, _Diary_, p.
60). According to Wriothesley, Wyatt was beheaded on Tower Hill “at 6
o’clock in the forenoon, and his body after quartered on the scaffold”
(_Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 115). Wriothesley gives the date of his
execution as the 11th April. It is probable that one of his quarters
was set on the gallows on Hay Hill.]
[Footnote 443: Lingard remarks, that as for Elizabeth and Courtenay not
being “privy” to Wyatt’s rising, “it may certainly be true, for he rose
unexpectedly six weeks before the time originally fixed upon” (_History
of England_, vol. v., p. 434 note). Holinshed says that Wyatt protested
against being pressed to say anything more in his wretched condition;
that he declared it went against him to accuse any one by name, but
that having confessed everything to her Grace, he begged that he might
be tormented with no more questions (_Chronicle_, 1103, 1104, 1111).]
[Footnote 444: Mgr. Namèche, _Le Règne de Philippe II_, etc., vol. i.,
p. 43. Tytler, _Edward VI. and Mary_, vol. ii., p. 414.]
CHAPTER XII.
PHILIP AND MARY.
_July_ 1554-_August_ 1555.
Philip had married as his first wife the daughter of John III., King
of Portugal, who had died in 1552, having given birth to a son, the
unfortunate and notorious Don Carlos. Charles V. then entered into
negotiations for a union between his son and the King of Portugal’s
sister, whose dowry amounted to more than a million gold ducats. But
unwilling that so large a sum should pass out of the country, King
John was in no hurry to bring matters to a conclusion, and while he
haggled over the terms of the marriage treaty, the death of Edward VI.
opened out a new political vista. The Emperor seeing the possibility
of a geographical combination, that would materially help him to
overthrow his old enemy France, wrote to Philip, telling him to suspend
the negotiations with Portugal if they were not already concluded.
A matrimonial alliance with England would, he conceived, equal in
importance that of the Dauphin with the young Scottish Queen, Mary
Stuart. Philip, perfectly docile, agreed to his father’s scheme,[445]
and thus the fuse was set to the train laid by de Noailles, resulting
in the conflagration described in the last chapter. But Mary’s firmness
and courage, and the enthusiasm with which she had inspired her army,
quickly extinguished the flames of revolution, and notwithstanding the
dissensions in her Council, a far too numerous and unwieldy body, her
government was stronger than before Wyatt’s rebellion. De Noailles
had gained nothing by his treachery, except the questionable glory
of having successfully worked upon the worst passions of the rabble.
Painfully conscious that he had little cause for self-congratulation,
and anxious to know how far the Queen was informed of his secret
practices, and what were her feelings towards France, he demanded
an audience in the middle of June, when the court was on the eve of
removing to Windsor. Mary received him coldly, and when he complained,
that although his master desired to continue the peace, her ministers
appeared to be otherwise disposed, she told him roundly that neither
the King of France nor his advisers had displayed much inclination
towards peace in the past, and that not for all the kingdoms in the
world would her conscience have permitted her to play such a part as
he, de Noailles, had played. This outspokenness on the part of the
Queen so disconcerted the ambassador, that he begged Henry to send
him a safe-conduct and his recall.[446] Nevertheless, he was obliged
to remain where he was, and he continued to be the most mischievous
person in England. In giving an account of this audience to his master,
de Noailles expressed the opinion that Philip had “something in hand
against France”. But in this he was mistaken. Philip had no independent
policy apart from the Emperor’s. Whatever his defects of mind and
character, he was a perfect son, and while his father lived, Philip
lived but to obey his behests. The chief of these now was, that he
should marry Mary, and seek to conciliate the English.
Michiel, the Venetian ambassador, who had seen the Prince in Italy,
describes him as the image of the Emperor, even to his hanging
under-lip, the distinguishing feature of the Hapsburgs. He was
not quite so tall (and Charles V. was but of medium height), but
well-proportioned and agile, as had often been proved in tournaments,
on foot and on horseback, armed and unarmed.[447] He is elsewhere
described as short but slender, with a fine broad brow, large blue
eyes, dense, fair eyebrows, very close together, a nose well formed,
a large mouth, with a thick and pendent under-lip, which rather
spoiled his appearance. His skin was white, and his hair flaxen, like
that of a Fleming, but here the resemblance to his northern ancestors
ceased, his tastes and manners being essentially Spanish. Even in his
early manhood, he was inclined to be thoughtful and laborious. It was
observed that he listened attentively to all that was said to him, but
spoke little, and that little cautiously, with his eyes bent on the
ground. If he raised them, it was to allow them to wander hither and
thither. His answers were prompt, short and to the purpose, but he was
careful never to compromise himself in any way.[448] At the end of his
first visit to Flanders, the Emperor, who idolised him, took him to
task for his cold and haughty bearing. Philip learned the lesson so
well, that on his second visit, it was remarked that his manner was
more affable, recalling that of his father, and retaining no trace
of the disdain which had before caused him to be so much disliked in
the Low Countries. He differed from the Emperor, inasmuch as Charles
delighted in warfare, and military exercises, whereas Philip cared
nothing for them, and understood them but little. He was fond of study,
and especially of the study of history; he knew the exact position of
every important place on the map, was a good mathematician, and had
some notions of sculpture and of painting, which arts he sometimes
practised. His own language he spoke with elegance, knew Latin well
enough for a prince, understood and wrote Italian, and some French,
and possessed an excellent memory. He was slow in his movements, both
naturally and from his having schooled himself in extreme deliberation,
a characteristic often illustrated by remarks which he was in the habit
of writing on the margin of official documents, and in letters to
his friends and servants. One such expression, written to an Italian
diplomat, “_bisogna caminare coi piedi di piombo_,” is an epitome of
his manner of conducting business. He was careful to surround even
the smallest affair with an atmosphere of dignity, a custom that
may partly account for his dilatoriness. As he was habitually grave
and distant, his courtesy was the more appreciated when he forced
himself to unbend. In his opinion, no nation on earth equalled the
Spanish nation, and he admitted none but Spaniards into his counsels
and intimacy. His piety was considered remarkable, because he heard
Mass daily, and approached the sacraments at least four times a year.
Capable as he was of prolonged and careful attention to the minutest
details of business, he was naturally fond of repose and solitude,
especially in summer, when he made a point of seldom granting audiences
on affairs of state. So great was his power of self-control, that even
in taking vengeance, he would sometimes wait for years for an opportune
moment, when he would strike without passion and without pity.[449] His
morals were neither better nor worse than those of the majority of his
contemporaries.
Such was Philip in his twenty-seventh year, at the time of his second
marriage.
Sorranzo’s description of Mary, at the age of thirty-eight, is
important, as coming from the pen of a none too friendly critic. In
the Venetian ambassador’s description of England in 1554 occurs the
following paragraph:—
“The most serene Madam Mary is entitled Queen of England and of
France, and Defendress of the Faith. She was born on the 18 February
1515 [1516], so she yesterday completed her thirty-eighth year, and
six months. She is of low stature with a red and white complexion,
and very thin. Her eyes are white [light?] and large, and her hair
reddish; her face is round, with a nose rather low and wide, and were
not her age on the decline, she might be called handsome rather than
the contrary. She is not of a strong constitution, and of late she
suffers from headache, and serious affection of the heart, so that
she is often obliged to take medicine, and also to be blooded. She is
of very spare diet, and never eats till one or two p.m., although she
rises at daybreak, when after saying her prayers, and hearing Mass in
private, she transacts business incessantly until after midnight,
when she retires to rest; for she chooses to give audience not only
to all the members of her Privy Council, and to hear from them every
detail of public business, but also to all other persons who ask it of
her. Her Majesty’s countenance indicates great benignity and clemency,
which are not belied by her conduct, for although she has had many
enemies, and though so many of them were by law condemned to death,
yet had the executions depended solely on her Majesty’s will, not one
of them perhaps would have been enforced; but deferring to her Council
in everything, she in this matter likewise complied with the wishes
of others, rather than with her own. She is endowed with excellent
ability, and more than moderately read in Latin literature, especially
with regard to Holy Writ; and besides her native tongue, she speaks
Latin, French and Spanish, and understands Italian perfectly, but
does not speak it. She is also very generous, but not to the extent
of letting it appear that she rests her chief claim to commendation
on this quality. She is so confirmed in the Catholic religion, that
although the King her brother, and his Council, prohibited her from
having the Mass celebrated according to the Roman Catholic ritual, she
nevertheless had it performed in secret, nor did she ever choose by
any act to assent to any other form of religion, her belief in that in
which she was born being so strong, that had the opportunity offered,
she would have displayed it at the stake, her hope being in God alone,
so that she constantly exclaims, ‘_In te Domine confido, non confundar
in eternam! Si Deus est pro nobis, quis contra nos?_’ Her Majesty
takes pleasure in playing on the lute and spinet, and is a very good
performer on both instruments, and indeed before her accession, she
taught many of her maids of honour. But she seems to delight above all
in arraying herself elegantly and magnificently, and her garments are
of two sorts; the one a gown such as men wear, but fitting very close,
with an under petticoat which has a very long train; and this is her
ordinary costume, being also that of the gentlewomen of England. The
other garment is a gown and boddice with wide hanging sleeves in the
French fashion, which she wears on State occasions, and she also wears
much embroidery, and gowns and mantles of cloth of gold, and cloth of
silver of great value, and changes every day. She also makes great use
of jewels, wearing them both on her chaperon, and round her neck, and
as trimming for her gowns, in which jewels she delights greatly, and
although she has a great plenty of them left her by her predecessors,
yet were she better supplied with money than she is, she would
doubtless buy more.”[450]
[Illustration: Philippe II.
From the original portrait by Adrian van der Werff.
_Marie eut dans mon cœur une part bien legere,
Ma seule ambition m’en fit faire le choix:
Ie n’en fus pas content, elle ne me sut plaire,
Le plus encore moins aux Anglois._]
Philip’s departure for England had been delayed at the last, on account
of the large quantity of bullion he was taking with him, amounting to
3,000,000 ducats, 300,000 of which were for his bride, 100,000 for the
merchants, and the rest for the Emperor. In charge of this money was
Sir Thomas Gresham, the celebrated founder of the Royal Exchange, who
had gone to Spain for the purpose of raising a loan. When that part of
the treasure which was destined for England was taken to the Tower, it
filled twenty carts containing fourscore and seventeen chests, a yard
and four inches long, and it was estimated that when coined it would
produce about £50,000 sterling.[451]
Both the Emperor and Renard had taken care to give the Prince good
advice as to his behaviour in England. They dreaded, lest by a
repetition of the contempt he had displayed in Flanders, he should
render the marriage still more unpopular than it already was. They
implored him to make at least a show of cordiality towards the nobles,
and to be affable and condescending to the people. He should force
himself to learn a few words of English, to salute them with, but at
the same time, it would not be amiss, said his mentors, if he wore a
coat of mail under his dress.[452]
On the 19th July, the Spanish fleet being anchored in Southampton Bay,
Philip sent the Prince of Gonzaga and Count Egmont to inform Mary of
his arrival and good health. The next morning, he was landed at
Southampton in the Queen’s yacht. As he stepped on shore, a royal
salute was fired, and the Earl of Arundel invested him with the Order
of the Garter,[453] which was at once put on and fastened by a herald.
A brilliant company had assembled at the landing-place, to receive and
do him honour. “God save your Grace,” was heard on all sides.
Philip presented a gallant enough appearance in his usual costume of
black, with the short Spanish cape worn over one shoulder, and on his
head a berretta with gold chains and a waving plume. Mary had sent him
an Andalusian genet richly caparisoned, and as the reins were handed to
him, Sir Anthony Browne[454] advanced, and made a speech in Latin, to
the effect that he had been appointed equerry to the Prince, and had
taken the oath to the imperial ambassador, and begged to be received
as his Highness’s most humble, faithful and loyal servant. Having
kissed the stirrup, he helped the Prince to mount.[455] As Philip rode
through the town, the spectators remarked with admiration, his graceful
horsemanship and smiling countenance, an indication that he had taken
Renard’s counsels to heart. His first visit was to the Church of the
Holy Rood, where he heard Mass, and returned thanks for his prosperous
voyage and safe arrival.
He was then conducted to the house that had been prepared for his
reception, during his stay at Southampton. Here his apartments were
hung with some famous Flemish arras of immense value, that had belonged
to Henry VIII. A chair of state in crimson velvet, embroidered with
gold and pearls, stood on a daïs, under a canopy in the principal room.
Before dismissing his escort, composed of nearly every member of the
Privy Council, he addressed them in a Latin speech, in which he said
he had come to live among them, not as a foreigner, but as a native
Englishman, and not from want of men or money, but God had called him
to marry their virtuous sovereign; and in thanking them for their
expressions of faith and loyalty, he promised that they should ever
find him a grateful, affable and loving Prince.
To the Spanish nobles in his suite, he said that he hoped, so long as
they remained in England, they would conform to the customs of the
country, and in this he would give them an example. As he finished
speaking, he raised to his lips a flagon of English ale, which he then
tasted for the first time, and drank farewell to the company.[456]
Perhaps he disliked it less than some of his followers; at all events
it was observed that he drank bravely, and without wincing.
As soon as the news of Philip’s arrival reached London, demonstrations
of joy were set on foot, forced upon the people, said de Noailles
maliciously, under pain of death.[457] But it did not appear that they
evinced any serious objection to being feasted and amused. Bells were
rung, salvos of artillery fired, and processions formed to all the
principal churches. Fireworks were displayed, and tables groaning with
viands were laid out in the streets, for every one to eat as much as he
pleased. Wine and ale flowed in abundance.
On the 21st, Mary with her whole court made her entry into Winchester,
where she was to receive the Prince and to be married to him.[458] She
took up her residence at the Bishop’s palace.
Philip, meanwhile, by his condescension had been making a favourable
impression. So anxious was he to ingratiate himself with the English,
that he gave offence to his own suite. Every time he went out, he was
escorted by Englishmen; Englishmen served him at table; he breakfasted
and dined in public, according to English custom, although he disliked
it extremely, and drank toasts valiantly in tankards of strong ale, in
the English fashion, encouraging the Spaniards to do the same.
On the 23rd, the Earl of Pembroke with 200 mounted gentlemen arrived
to conduct him to Winchester. With them were a company of English
archers, wearing the colours of Arragon, with tunics of yellow cloth
striped with crimson velvet, and with cordons of white and crimson
silk. Before Philip left Southampton the Spanish fleet that had
accompanied him was ordered to sail to Flanders immediately after the
marriage ceremony, not a man belonging to it being allowed to set foot
on English soil.[459]
The day of his departure was stormy, and it rained in torrents. He
mounted his horse early in the afternoon, but had not left Southampton
far behind, when a horseman came galloping to meet him, bringing a ring
from Mary, with the entreaty that he would not expose himself to the
inclemency of the weather, but would defer his arrival at Winchester
till the following day. Not at first understanding the message,
Philip thought that he was being warned of some danger, and stopped
to consult with Alva and Egmont; but when Mary’s solicitude had been
explained to him by an interpreter, he only wrapped his scarlet cloak
more closely round him, pulled down his broad beaver over his eyes,
and pressed gallantly forward, in spite of the elements. His company
was increased at every bend of the road, by the country gentlemen of
Hampshire, who turned out to form an escort; and by the time he arrived
at his destination, his suite numbered several thousands. Drenched with
rain, they were received at the gates of Winchester by the Mayor and
Aldermen, in their civic robes, who after presenting Philip with the
keys of the city, conducted him to the residence prepared for him in
the Dean’s house.[460]
John Elder’s letter, describing Philip’s reception at Winchester and
his marriage, takes up the story probably about an hour after his entry.
“Then the next Monday, which was the 24th July, his Highness came to
the city of Winchester, at 6 of the clock at night, the noblemen
of England, and his nobles riding, one with another before him, in
good order, through the city, every one placed according to his
vocation and office, he riding on a fair white horse, in a rich coat,
embroidered with gold, his doublet, hosen and hat suite-like, with a
white feather in his hat, very fair. And after he lighted, he came the
highway towards the west door of the cathedral church, where he was
most reverently received with procession, by my lord the Bishop of
Winchester, now lord chancellor of England, and five other bishops,
mitred, coped and staved, where also, after he had kneeled, kissed the
crucifix, and done his prayer, he ascended from thence five steps upon
a scaffold, which was made for the solemnization of his marriage; and
until he came to the choir door, the procession sang _Laus honor et
virtus_. And after he had entered the choir, and perceived the most
holy sacrament, he put off his cap, and went bare-headed, with great
humility, until he entered his seat or traverse as they call it, where
after he had kneeled, my lord Chancellor began _Te Deum laudamus_, and
the choir together with the organs sang and played the rest. Which
being done, he was brought with torch-light to the Dean’s house, the
lords going before him, and the Queen’s guard in their rich coats
standing all the way. Which house was very gorgeously prepared for
him, adjoining to my lord the Bishop of Winchester’s palace, where the
Queen’s Highness then lay, not passing a pair of but-length’s between.
This night, after he had supped, at 10 of the clock (as I am credibly
informed) he was brought by the counsel a privy way to the Queen, where
her grace very lovingly, yea and most joyfully received him. And after
they had talked together half an hour,[461] they kissed and departed. I
am credibly informed also that at his departing, he desired the Queen’s
Highness to teach him what he should say to the lords in English at his
departing; and she told him he should say ‘Good night, my lords all’.
And as he came by the lords, he said as the Queen had taught him.”[462]
The writer goes on to say, that the next day, being Tuesday, the
Prince made his first public and official visit to the Queen, at three
o’clock in the afternoon, conducted by the Earl of Derby, the Earl of
Pembroke and others, he walking alone behind them all, “in a cloak of
black cloth embroidered with silver, and a pair of white hose”. He
entered the courtyard of the bishop’s palace, to the sound of music
played by every kind of instrument, and passed into the great hall.
Here Mary received him, and kissed him in presence of all the people.
Taking him by the hand, she led him into the presence chamber, where
after conversing with her for a quarter of an hour, under the cloth
of estate, “to the great comfort and rejoicing of the beholders,”
Philip took his leave and went to Evensong at the Cathedral, returning
afterwards by torch-light to his lodging.
The following day, 25th July, Feast of St. James, the patron saint of
Spain, was fixed for the marriage. The Cathedral was entirely hung with
arras and cloth of gold. From the west entrance to the rood-screen,
separating the nave from the chancel, a platform had been erected for
the first part of the service. Under the rood-loft, on either side,
a canopied seat called a _traverse_, draped with cloth of gold, was
placed for the royal bride and bridegroom. Similar seats were also
placed for them within the choir, in front of the altar. At about
eleven o’clock, Philip, accompanied by his suite, and wearing a white
doublet and trunk hose, a mantle of cloth of gold, ornamented with
pearls and precious stones, which Mary had sent him, the collar of the
Golden Fleece, and the brilliant blue ribbon of the Garter, entered by
the western door, to the sound of trumpets, and proceeded to his place
under the rood-loft. After waiting for half an hour, he was joined by
the Queen, who wore a dress of white satin, scarlet shoes, and a mantle
of cloth of gold, studded and fringed with diamonds of great price.
Before her walked the Earl of Derby, bearing the sword of state.
Hundreds of spectators, from all parts of Christendom, attired with
great magnificence, crowded the church, and made the sight one of
dazzling splendour. When the bride and bridegroom reached their
respective _traverses_, says the chronicler, they were shriven,[463]
and afterwards stood up together by the rood, the Bishops of
Winchester, London, Durham, Chichester, Lincoln and Ely, preceded
by their croziers, having come from the choir to that place. But
before the ceremony began, Don Juan Figueroa, Regent of Naples, and a
member of the Emperor’s Council, handed to the English Chancellor two
instruments, by which Charles V. made over to his son his sovereignty
over the kingdom of Naples, and the Duchy of Milan, so that, as
Gardiner at once declared to the assembly, “it was thought the Queen’s
Majesty should marry but with a prince; now it was manifested that she
should marry with a king”.[464]
Then the banns were bidden, in Latin and in English, and the marriage
was solemnised, the Queen standing on the right side, the King on the
left, while the Marquis of Winchester, the Earls of Derby, Bedford and
Pembroke gave her to her husband, in the name of the whole realm. The
nuptial blessing was pronounced by Gardiner, who was the officiating
prelate in default of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
“Then all the people gave a great shout, praying God to send them joy,
and the ring being laid upon the book to be hallowed, the Prince laid
also upon the said book, three handfuls of fine gold, which the lady
Margaret[465] seeing, opened the Queen’s purse, and the Queen smilingly
put up in the same purse. And when they had enclosed their hands,
immediately the sword was advanced before the King, by the Earl of
Pembroke.”[466] The marriage ring was a plain hoop of gold without any
stone, for the Queen had said: “she would be married as maidens were in
the old time, and so she was”.[467]
“After the marriage knot thus knit, the King and Queen came hand in
hand, under a rich canopy, being borne over them with six knights,
and two swords before them, all the lords both English and strangers,
richly apparelled going afore them, the trumpets then blowing, till
they came into the choir, where all the priests and singing men, all
in rich copes, began to sing a psalm used in marriages, the King and
Queen kneeling a while before the altar, each of them having a taper
afore them. Then after, her Majesty went into her traverse on the right
side, and the King into another on the left side; after the Gospel,
they came out, and kneeled before the altar openly all the Mass time,
and the care-cloth was holden over them; and he kissed the bishop at
the _Agnus_ and then her Majesty. The Mass done, the King of Heralds
openly in the church, and in presence of the King, the Queen, the lords
and ladies, and all the people, solemnly proclaimed their Majesties
King and Queen, with their title and style in manner as followeth:
Philip and Mary by the grace of God, King and Queen of England, France,
Naples, Jerusalem, Ireland, Defenders of the Faith, Princes of Spain
and Sicily, Archdukes of Austria, Dukes of Milan, Burgundy and Brabant,
Counts of Hapsburg, Flanders and Tyrol.”[468]
At three o’clock, the royal procession left the Cathedral, and the
King and Queen walked hand in hand to the banqueting hall. According
to the Spanish accounts of the banquet, none were seated at the royal
table but the King and Queen. Some of the English chronicles state that
a third place was assigned to Gardiner, the only dignitary admitted
to their table. Farther off, tables occupying the whole length of the
room were placed for the members of the court, the foreign ambassadors,
Philip’s suite and the other guests. De Noailles had absented himself
from the whole of the marriage ceremonies, judging that it was beneath
his master’s dignity for the imperial ambassador to take precedence of
him. Edward Underhill thus describes the banquet:—
“On the marriage day, the King and the Queen dined in the hall in
the bishops palace, sitting under the cloth of estate, and none else
at that table. The nobility sat at the side tables. We (the gentlemen
pensioners) were the chief servitors to carry the meat, and the Earl
of Sussex, our captain, was the shewer. The second course at the
marriage of a king is given unto the bearers; I mean the meat, but not
the dishes, for they were of gold. It was my chance to carry a great
pasty of red deer, in a great charger, very delicately baked, which
for the weight thereof, divers refused, the which pasty I sent unto
London, to my wife and her brother, who cheered therewith many of their
friends.”[469]
At the bottom of the hall was an orchestra, and music was played during
nearly the whole time of the banquet. Towards the end, the Winchester
schoolboys came in, and some of them recited poems and epithalamiums
in honour of the marriage. The Queen rewarded them handsomely. After
the banquet followed a ball, at which Underhill compared the Spanish
dancing unfavourably with the English, and especially with that of
Lord Braye and Mr. Carew, a criticism that must certainly be put down
to British prejudice. Before nine o’clock, all had retired, but the
feasting and rejoicing were continued for several days, after which
the King and Queen went to Basinghouse, and thence to Windsor. Here, a
chapter of the Order of the Garter was held, and Philip was installed.
During the preparations for this ceremony, an overzealous herald
hoisted down the arms of England and substituted those of Spain, but he
was peremptorily ordered to replace them as they were.[470]
On the 7th August, a great public hunt was held, with toils five and
six miles long, “and many a deer that day was brought to the quarry”.
So far, the Emperor and his ministers were satisfied with the
success of their policy. On the 4th August, the Bishop of Arras wrote
to Renard, expressing “incredible content, that the marriage for
which both had worked, for so long, was accomplished, to the mutual
satisfaction of both parties, and that the King was behaving in every
way so well, that he had gained the approbation of all in England”.
He foresaw, he said, many difficulties still, but hoped that with
gentleness and benignity, they might not prove too great.[471]
Meanwhile, the King and Queen had made their public entry into London,
and although there is nothing in the records to indicate that the
citizens made any hostile demonstration against Philip, their reception
of him cannot have been altogether gratifying, for after his second
visit to the capital in September, Renard observed:—
“Since the return of the King to London, the vigil of St. Michael, the
citizens have recovered altogether from the insolence which they at
first showed, and seemed to comprehend, and taste at last, the honour
and welfare which the alliance has brought to England, and the repose
and tranquillity that are the result”.[472] The nobility, he went on to
say, were beginning to accommodate themselves, and to converse with the
Spaniards, admiring the humanity and virtue of the King, so that things
were more peaceful than usual. At first, there had been, he said, some
embarrassment, because things had not been arranged properly, but
since the Council had been informed of the difficulty in getting the
suite lodged, they had given such orders, that the citizens no longer
objected to lodge the strangers, and that now all was well, except that
they were made to pay exorbitant rents, which also would be reformed.
It was true, he continued, that the heretics could not get over the
matter of religion, and had been much troubled by the articles which
the Bishop of London (Bonner) had caused to be printed and published,
and notably on account of the form and name of the Inquisition, in
which they had been conceived, but the publication had continued, in
spite of murmurs, and they could do nothing, Madam Elizabeth being
under arrest. All their hope now lay in the Earl of Arundel, who was an
enemy of the Chancellor, and who hoped to marry his son to the Princess.
At the public entry of their Majesties into London, one small but
ominous misadventure has been recorded showing the drift of Puritan
feeling. The streets were gaily decorated, and the citizens indulged
their love of pageantry freely. At the Conduit in Gracechurch Street,
figures had been painted representing “Nine Worthies,” among whom were
Henry VIII., Edward VI. and Mary. Henry VIII. wore armour, and had a
sword in one hand, while he held a book in the other. On the book was
inscribed in Latin _The Word of God_. He was supposed to be handing the
Bible to Edward, who was standing in a corner by his side.
“Hereupon was no small matter made, for the Bishop of Winchester,
lord Chancellor sent for the painter, and not only called him knave,
for painting a book in King Henry’s hand, and specially for writing
thereupon _Verbum Dei_, but also rank traitor and villain, saying to
him that he should rather have put the book into the Queen’s hand
(who was also painted there) for that she had reformed the Church and
religion, with other things, according to the pure word of God indeed.
The painter answered and said, that if he had known that had been the
matter wherefore his lordship sent for him he could have remedied it,
and not have troubled his lordship. The bishop answered and said, that
it was the Queen’s Majesty’s will and commandment, that he should send
for him; and so commanding him to wipe out the book and _Verbum Dei_,
he sent him home. So the painter departed, but fearing lest he should
leave somewhat either of the book or of _Verbum Dei_ in King Henry’s
hand, he wiped away a piece of his fingers withal.”[473]
Another discordant note was struck by the circumstance that the Council
either by design or accident delayed inviting the French ambassador
to take part in the procession, till half an hour before the King and
Queen set forth from Southwark. De Noailles received the invitation by
means of “a shabby-looking individual, who said he was one of the newly
made heralds,” and pleaded the shortness of time in which to make a
creditable appearance, and to get himself to Southwark, a distance of
at least two miles from his house.[474] Nevertheless, as soon as might
be, he solicited an audience, and was received by the Queen on the 21st
August. On expressing his congratulations, coupled with regrets at not
having been able to be present at the wedding festivities, like the
other ambassadors, his desires for her prosperity and for peace between
France and England being no less than she herself could wish, Mary
replied that she had not forgotten what she had said to him at their
first interview, relating to the friendship contracted between the two
countries during her father’s and her brother’s lifetime. She had, she
declared, maintained it intact; and in spite of the troubles in the
past, all things being now settled to her great contentment, she hoped
that the peace for which she had so deep an affection would never be
violated.
On leaving the Queen’s presence, de Noailles proceeded to an audience
with Philip, an occasion of still deeper concern to him. The following
remarks, which he wrote for his master’s information, reveal the want
of good faith and mutual confidence through the polite speeches made on
either side.
“On being conducted to him, I said that I had taken advantage of the
first opportunity to pay my respects to his Majesty, and to inform him
as ambassador of the very Christian King, residing at the Court of the
Queen of England, his good sister, that their Majesties had hitherto
lived, and had caused their subjects to live, in peace and sincere
friendship with each other. This peace and friendship I trusted, would
not be troubled or diminished by his advent on the throne, but rather
be increased thereby, and that he would as far as possible be the
means of the pacification of all Christendom, as the said Lady and
her Council had often predicted. And I added, that I prayed our Lord
to permit the tranquillity in which his Highness had found these two
realms in their relations with each other, to continue perpetually. In
this case, I said, he might count on my co-operation as minister and
humble servant of his Majesty, who like a true prince made a point of
observing his promises faithfully. When I had finished my speech, the
said King called the Chancellor, and told him in Latin, that he had
perfectly understood what I had said, although he could not _speak_
French, and he begged him to reply to me, and say that both before
and since his arrival in this country, he had sworn and promised to
maintain the alliances which the Kingdom of England had contracted with
neighbouring princes, and in which he had found this realm, as long as
it should be for the good and convenience of England. He thanked me
moreover for the good service which I had offered to do in this matter,
and for the trouble I had taken in coming to see him, his answer being
clearly forged in the Emperor’s, as well as in the English smithy, as
one may see, by the pains they take to show that they are not wanting
in the will to make war on the first convenient occasion.”[475]
But Mary at least was anxious for peace, and she wrote to Henry II.
expressing herself in no ambiguous terms on the subject.[476] At the
same time, she knew not how to satisfy all the various conflicting
demands on her justice, her fidelity to her people, to her husband and
to her conscience. Philip had shown himself so willing, in every way,
to respect national customs and prejudices; he was so careful in his
intercourse with Englishmen to seem to identify his interests with
theirs, that it was felt something must also be conceded to his tastes.
Hitherto the palace gates had been open to all comers; the Queen was
easy of access to the humblest petitioner, and the Venetian ambassador
has recorded that from early morning till late at night she gave
audiences without ceasing. A few days after their public entry into
London, their Majesties removed to Hampton Court, where more of Spanish
etiquette and of that aloofness which characterised the majesty of
Spain began to be observed. Before long, there were murmurs because the
hall door within the courtyard was now kept continually shut, so that
no man might enter, unless his errand were first known, “which seemed
strange to Englishmen that had not been used thereto”.[477]
Philip may have considered this withdrawal from close contact with the
people a necessity, on account of the unsatisfactory state of London,
which was constantly the scene of attacks against religious ceremonies,
disputes at street corners, concerning points of doctrine, and the
interpretation of different passages of Scripture. Not unfrequently,
the brawl would end in vituperation of the Queen, of Philip and of
their marriage, in language that was no less than treason. Renard
had repeatedly expressed the opinion that these disturbers of the
public peace should be punished as rebels, and not as heretics. Such
a proceeding would certainly have been far more diplomatic, although
the outrages perpetrated sprang obviously from religious discontent.
The Chancellor and the Bishop of London ruled that they came within
the episcopal province and jurisdiction, and proceeded against them in
the religious sense, sometimes dispensing with the royal sign manual
altogether. The articles mentioned in Renard’s letter as having been
published by Bonner in September came under this head. The Council
called him to account for having acted without sufficient warrant,
and, above all, without the seal of their Majesties. Bonner replied,
that these were things dependent on his office and jurisdiction, and
that he knew well, in communicating them to the Council, annoyances
and hindrances would have been put in his way; that he had acted in
the service of God, and that in religious questions one must advance
boldly, without fear. He gave instances from the Old Testament,
to prove that God helped those who upheld His laws, observed His
commandments, and adhered faithfully to Him.
Later on, the Council altered their tactics, and Bonner was accused of
dilatoriness in examining heretics.
Gardiner, preaching at Paul’s Cross, about this time, inveighed against
the prevailing heresies, but in such a manner that his audience took
his words in good part, although there were more than ten thousand
persons present. He touched discreetly on the Queen’s marriage, and had
it not been for Bonner’s articles, the agitation in London would have
gradually subsided. But the disturbances which they caused became so
serious, and the people remonstrated to such purpose, that they were
temporarily withdrawn. Even then, the Londoners were not satisfied,
erroneously connecting the Bishop’s measures with Spanish policy, and
clamouring for the arrival of Reginald Pole, who, in spite of his long
exile, was known to be a thorough Englishman at heart, and to have been
disinclined to the Queen’s marriage.
But although, when once the alliance was an accomplished fact, the
Emperor’s zeal for the salvation of souls appeared suddenly to awake,
and although he expressed keen anxiety that the Papal Legate should
proceed at once to his mission in England,[478] Pole was still
prevented from accomplishing it. His desire to return to his native
land was as great as that of his fellow-countrymen for his presence
among them, and on the 21st September, he wrote to Philip, complaining
that it was now a year since he commenced knocking at his palace gate,
nor as yet had any one opened it to him. Were the King to ask, “Who
knocks?” he would reply, “I am he, who in order not to exclude your
consort from the throne of England, endured expulsion from home and
country, and twenty years of exile”. Were he merely to say this much,
would he not seem worthy to return to the land of his birth, and to
have access to the King? But as he was not acting in his own name, nor
as a private person, he knocked and demanded in the name and person
of the vicegerent of the King of kings and the Pastor of man, namely,
the successor of Peter, or rather of Peter himself, whose authority,
heretofore so flourishing and vigorous in England, was now most
injuriously ejected thence. Through Pole, Peter had long been knocking
at the royal gate, which although open to others, was still closed to
him alone. The voice perhaps was not heard? Continuing in the same
strain, he expostulated with Philip and Mary, and concluded by saying
that if he personally were not acceptable, he begged that another might
be summoned in his stead.[479]
Few, conversant with the celebrities of the sixteenth century, will
fail to see in Reginald Pole the most distinguished Englishman of his
day. Of royal descent, a notable scholar and a man whose conscience
ruled every action of his life, he voluntarily exiled himself, when,
at the cost of a single principle, the highest preferments in Church
or State lay open to him. Two passions marked his singularly blameless
career: love of his country and devotion to the Holy See. He turned
his back on the one, when the King renounced the other, and made it
high treason to continue to acknowledge the Pope Head of the Church of
England. We have seen that when Pole refused to return to England he
was declared a traitor, a price was put upon his head, and his aged
mother was brought to the block.
Paul III. made him a Cardinal, in order to avail himself of his
knowledge and brilliant talents at the Council of Trent, and at the
death of that Pontiff, he was the imperial candidate for the Papacy.
Had he possessed a particle of ambition he might have controlled the
Conclave.
On Mary’s accession, he wrote many urgent appeals to the Queen,
beseeching her to lose no time in riveting the broken chain between
England and Rome. He possessed undoubted influence with her, but
less than the Emperor, who counselled delay, and took care that the
interests of the empire should before all be secured. The eldest son of
the Church, Charles ever made religion the handmaid of politics; and
as for Philip, in spite of his boasted maxim, that it would be better
not to reign at all, than to reign over a nation of heretics, he was
content always to play a waiting game, and above all to follow his
father’s lead. Pole, in common with Gardiner, had considered that Mary
was fatally mistaken in allying herself with Spain, that the English
would have been far more easily reconciled to Rome if every other
foreign element had been excluded, and confidence in herself planted on
a firm and solid basis, and that, at all events, the re-establishment
of Papal jurisdiction should have been her first care in ascending the
throne. If, when the kingdom was at her feet, she had freed herself
from the Emperor’s influence, and had summoned Pole in his official
capacity as Papal Legate, he believed that the movement towards reunion
would have been a truly national one.
In many ways, Pole’s opinion was justified by facts. The enthusiasm
with which Mary had been greeted, although perhaps mainly owing to the
affection she inspired, was also in no small measure due to the recoil
of the people from the innovations of Edward’s reign, innovations
that had abounded in disillusion, and that had set the hearts of many
burning within them with desire for the old religion. But de Noailles,
Suffolk, Wyatt and others, had successfully availed themselves of the
unpopularity of the Queen’s contemplated marriage to rouse the Puritan
minority against her throne, and her religion; and the Emperor, knowing
Pole’s opinions, and being well aware of the weight they would have in
England, detained the Legate till all dread of his interference was at
an end.
Great as was his disappointment at the enforced delay, Pole was not
the man to resent or resist the obstacles put in his way. He did what
he could, to fulfil his secondary mission, which was to promote peace
between the King of France and the Emperor; and he conferred diligently
with the royal and imperial ministers, on the possibility of a _modus
vivendi_ between the two powers. From Brussels he went to Paris and
made a favourable impression on Henry II., but failing to bring about
the desired object, returned to the Netherlands. Charles received
him coolly, believing him to have been the author of an intercepted
letter, which had been actually written by one of his suite, to the
Queen of England, dissuading her from marrying Philip. But this gave
Pole the opportunity of assuring the Emperor, that he was convinced
the Queen’s decision had been taken with the highest motives for the
sake of religion, and in order to secure the royal succession, and
that such being the case, he cordially approved it.[480] Philip was
now in England, and the Legate, like the Chancellor, made the best
of what could no longer be avoided. Difficulties other than those
concerning the empire kept him still an exile. They were of two kinds,
one relating to himself personally, the other having reference to the
religious state of England. The personal difficulty was the fact of his
being still an outlaw, and as regarded the other, until there was some
prospect of the accomplishment of his mission, it would be useless for
him to cross the Channel.
The first, but least formidable barrier to the reunion of the kingdom
with Rome, arose from the opposition of a small party unfavourable
to Papal jurisdiction. This party was confined almost exclusively
to London, and to parts of the southern and eastern counties, but
wherever isolated bodies of Puritans were to be found scattered up
and down the country, the same opposition naturally prevailed. The
great masses of country gentlefolk had become, in consequence of the
frequent changes of religion, indifferent to every form of faith;
they would have been ready, at the call of the Sovereign, to embrace
Judaism or Mohammedanism if their convenience or interest required it.
The yeomanry, farmers and peasantry were nearly everywhere intensely
Catholic, but especially in the north, where also a considerable
number of landed gentry were ready to suffer all things in defence of
the old religion. But another class had sprung up in the course of
twenty-five years, consisting of almost every second wealthy family in
the kingdom, enriched, in many cases entirely built up, from the spoils
of the churches and monasteries. And these would never consent to any
religious authority that might call their right to them in question.
Cardinal Pole was known to be opposed to any recognition of the title
of these lay proprietors; and without wasting efforts at this crisis,
in an attempt to induce Parliament to reverse Pole’s attainder, the
Chancellor appealed to the Pope for a bull, confirming them in their
possessions.
In reply to the before-mentioned letter, in which Pole spoke of his
having been kept knocking a whole year at the palace gates, Philip sent
Renard to Brussels to negotiate. Having graphically described the state
of the country, proving to the Legate that a general and immediate
restitution was out of the question, Renard persuaded him to leave the
matter for a time in abeyance. Meanwhile Julius III. signed a bull,
empowering the Legate to give, alienate and transfer to the actual
holders, all property which had been torn from the Church during the
reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI. The Pope had considered, after
consulting with canonists, that the continued alienation of Church
property was justifiable, if it proved the means of restoring the realm
to the faith.
This difficulty being settled, on Renard’s return to England, the
Lords Paget and Hastings were sent to bring the Legate home. Sir
William Cecil accompanied them, but in an unofficial capacity, probably
because, having become a Catholic, he would be a _persona grata_ to
Pole, and also to the Emperor on account of his moderate views.[481]
Parliament met on the 12th November, and a bill was brought forward
to reverse Pole’s attainder. It set forth that the sole cause of
his disgrace was his refusal to consent to the unlawful divorce of
the Queen’s father and mother, and in order that the repeal might
be clearly understood as an act of justice, and not of grace, the
cause was rejudged, the result being that both Houses repealed the
attainder, and restored all his rights and privileges. The Great Seal
put to this Act was, for more distinction, taken off in gold. Pole
was then free to return to his native land, and was received at Dover
on the 20th, with the honours due to a royal person. From Gravesend,
he sailed up the Thames in the Queen’s barge, his silver cross at the
prow, a crowd of smaller boats flying gala colours. At Westminster, the
Chancellor welcomed him at the landing place, and conducted him to the
palace. Their Majesties rose from dinner to greet him, receiving him at
the top of the great staircase.
After delivering the briefs of his legation, he retired to the
archiepiscopal palace at Lambeth, which had been prepared for his
reception. Three days later, a royal message summoned the Lords and
Commons to the court, where the Legate, in a long speech, acknowledged
the act of justice done to him, invited the nation to a sincere
repentance of its past errors, and exhorted the members of both Houses
to receive with joy the reconciliation which he was charged by Christ’s
Vicegerent here on earth to impart to them. As they, by repealing Acts
made against him, had opened his country to him once more, so he was
invested with full power to receive them back into the Church of God.
He then retired, and the Chancellor addressed them, in a discourse
beginning with the words, “The Lord shall raise up a prophet to thee
from amongst thine own brethren,” making an allusion to himself as
having been among the number of the delinquents. He urged them to rise
from their fallen state, and to seek reconciliation with the common
parent of all Christians.
The next day, both Houses passed a unanimous resolution to return to
the communion of the Catholic Church.
On the 30th, Feast of St. Andrew the Apostle, the King sent the Earl of
Arundel with six knights of the Garter and six prelates to escort the
Legate to the House of Lords. He took his place at the Queen’s right
hand, the King being on her left, but nearer to her. The Commons having
been sent for, Gardiner recapitulated what he had before said, asking
all present if they ratified his words, and desired to return to the
unity of the Catholic Church and to the obedience owed to her chief
pastor. The shouts and acclamations of the whole assembly answered him.
He then handed a petition to the King and Queen, on behalf of both
Houses of Parliament, as representatives of the nation, declaring their
sorrow for the schism, and all that had been done against the See of
Rome and the Catholic religion, requesting their Majesties to obtain of
the Lord Legate, pardon and restoration, as true and living members to
that body from which they had separated themselves by misdeeds.
When this petition had been read and returned to the Chancellor, who
then read it aloud in the hearing of all, both Houses rose as one man,
and went towards the Legate. He stepped forward to meet them, while
the Queen, in her own name, and in that of the nation, petitioned him
to grant them the pardon and reconciliation sued for. The Legate in
a somewhat lengthy speech reminded them of the thanks due to divine
Providence for this further proof of forbearance, and of the favour
shown to England. Then the whole assembly fell prostrate, except the
King and Queen, and the Cardinal pronounced the words of absolution,
“from all heresy and schism, and all judgments, censures and penalties,
for that cause incurred; and restored them to the communion of holy
Church, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost”. “Amen”
resounded from every part of the House, and the members rising from
their knees, followed the royal procession into the chapel, where they
returned thanks by chanting a solemn _Te Deum_.[482]
This apparent fervour was for the most part only on the surface. Had
Pole not returned armed with a Papal dispensation, exonerating all the
possessors of ecclesiastical plunder from the necessity of restoring
it, he would have been received in a very different spirit. It was
not possible to bring back the ages of faith to a generation that had
grown sceptical from change and worldliness, and both Houses consisted
largely of this class of people. When the question of restoring
Church lands had come under discussion before the Papal dispensation
had been published, the Earl of Bedford fell into a violent passion,
and breaking his rosary beads from his girdle flung them into the
fire, declaring that he valued his sweet abbey of Woburn more than
fatherly counsel that should come from Rome.[483] Although Sir William
Cecil might have expressed himself less warmly, he certainly shared
this sentiment, in regard to his benefices of Putney, Mortlake and
Wimbledon; and the express mention of the lands held by Sir William
Petre and the confirmation of his title to them in the bull of Paul
IV. are sufficient proof of the Chief Secretary’s unwillingness to
part with the monastic property that had fallen to his share.[484]
And these men were fairly representative of all those who had been
enriched in this way. It was to such as these that Pole addressed his
earnest admonition concerning the sacred vessels of the altar, that
they might not be put to profane uses, while he entreated all those
who were in possession of ecclesiastical revenues, “through the bowels
of mercy of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, that from a regard to
their own eternal lot, they would provide out of the Church lands, such
especially as had been set aside for the maintenance of the parochial
clergy, a competent subsistence for those who exercised that charge,
which might enable them to live creditably, according to their state,
and perform their functions, and support the burden of their calling”.
On the first Sunday of Advent, he made his public entry into London,
and heard High Mass at St. Paul’s. Gardiner on this occasion preached
his famous sermon, in which he accused himself bitterly of his conduct
under Henry VIII., and exhorted all who had fallen with him, or through
his example, to rise with him, and return to the religion of their
forefathers.[485] He took as the text of his discourse a part of the
eleventh verse of the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul’s Epistle to
the Romans, “It is the hour to rise out of sleep”. On the following
Thursday, both Houses of Convocation waited on the Cardinal at
Lambeth, and kneeling, received absolution “from all their perjuries,
schism and heresies”.[486]
To Mary the moment seemed to rain blessings. God was operating miracles
of grace in her favour. From the midst of perils that had surrounded
her from her childhood upwards, from ignominy such as the lowest in
the land had never known, she had been raised to the throne. Those
who had taken up arms against her had been twice signally defeated.
By a marriage which she had contracted in spite of the most violent
prejudice and opposition, she had allied her beloved country to the
most powerful empire in the world, and now she had been the means, not
only of restoring to it its birthright, but had thereby, in a certain
sense, expiated and undone her father’s sin. To crown her glory, she
was about to become a mother, and secure a long succession of Catholic
monarchs to the throne. She had longed for it, and had hoped for some
time; on the day of the Legate’s arrival she thought that she knew
it as certain, and applied to herself the words of St. Elizabeth, on
hearing the salutation of the Blessed Virgin.
Philip lost no time in informing the Pope of the happy issue of his
solicitude for the conversion of England. On the very day of the
reunion he wrote as follows:—
“TO OUR MOST HOLY FATHER,
“Most holy Father, I have already written to Dom John Manrique, to
inform your Holiness of the good condition of religious affairs in
this kingdom, and of the manner in which all things were tending
to render you obedience, and which I hoped for with the help of
our Lord. Now that the matter is accomplished, I must rejoice
with you, and inform you that to-day, feast of St. Andrew, in
the assembly which represents the kingdom, all have unanimously
testified deep regret for the past, and have declared their
obedience to your Holiness, and to the Holy See, afterwards by the
intercession of the Queen, receiving the absolution which the
Cardinal Legate pronounced. He will tell your Holiness all that
passed. As for me, the devout son of your Holiness, I confess that
I have never felt more joy than in seeing how, during the life of
your Holiness, a kingdom like this has returned to the bosom of
the Church, and I can but give thanks to God, to whom I also pray
to preserve and prosper your Holiness.
“London, 30 November 1554. Your Holiness’s very humble son,
PHILIP.”[487]
De Noailles was still doing his old work of sowing dissension
broadcast, and he flattered himself, and assured Henry, that the
country was on the verge of another revolt. But here his eager enmity
misled him, and his despatches about this time are exceedingly
untrustworthy. The fact is that Mary’s enemies were for a moment awed
into some degree of loyalty, by what was then regarded as a wonderful
succession of outward and visible signs of the Divine protection; and
apart from the friction caused by the presence of so many Spaniards
in London, the city had not been in so peaceable a condition for many
months. But Philip’s suite and the servants of his servants were far
less careful than the King was himself not to offend the national
susceptibilities, and on the slightest provocation, the Spaniards
produced their knives. It is recorded that on “Friday, the 26th day
of October, there was a Spaniard hanged at Charing Cross, which had
shamefully slain an Englishman, servant to Sir George Gifford. There
would have been given 500 crowns of the strangers to have saved his
life.”[488] On the 11th January, 1555, a Spaniard was hanged for
running an Englishman through with a rapier, whilst two Spaniards held
him by the arms.[489] Affrays were of constant occurrence between
Englishmen and Spaniards, and Philip issued a proclamation to the
effect that the first Spaniard who should dare to use a weapon was
to have his hand cut off. Henceforth, none of his compatriots were
to carry arms, and any who should raise the cry of _Spain_ for
assistance, either in defence or offence, should be hanged.[490] On the
other hand, the wealth of the Spaniards tempted the English; and on the
26th April, 1555, three men were hanged at Charing Cross, for robbing
them of a treasure of gold, out of Westminster Abbey.[491]
Cardinal Pole, in the report which he sent to Julius III. of the
ceremony in Parliament on St. Andrew’s Day, prognosticated nothing
but good for the future of the country. After bestowing much praise
on the King and Queen, he continues rather quaintly: “Philip is the
spouse of Mary, but treats her so deferentially as to appear her son,
thus giving promise of the best result. Mary has spiritually generated
England, before giving birth to that heir of whom there is very great
hope.”[492] The Pope’s response to this eulogy was the sending to Mary
of the golden rose, and to Philip the sword and hat which sometimes
accompanied it, when the Pope desired to honour in this manner both a
King and a Queen. The Venetian ambassador thus chronicled the event.
Writing on the 26th March 1555 he says: “Three days ago, there arrived
here Monsignor Antonio Agustini, auditor di Rota, sent by the Pope
to visit and thank their Majesties for the auspicious events of the
religion, and to present them with the rose, sword and hat which his
Holiness is in the habit of sending to one prince or another; and so
yesterday, the day of the Annunciation and commencement of the year,
according to the English style, the ceremony was performed in the
private chapel of her Majesty’s palace, there being present the most
illustrious Legate, all the ambassadors, and the lords of the Court.
Monsignor Agostini (_sic_) after the Mass, presented the rose to the
most serene Queen, and the sword and hat to the most serene King,
accompanying the presents with a brief from his Holiness, which was
read in public, replete with praise of their Majesties, and of his
Holiness’s great love and affection for them; and the most illustrious
Legate, in his episcopal habit, with mitre and cope, having recited
certain prayers over the presents, and given the usual benediction,
the most serene Queen evinced the utmost delight at hers, for after
a short prayer, she carried it in her own hand, and placed it on its
altar.”[493]
In the midst of her joy and hope, Mary was mindful of the afflicted.
Many were still in the Tower for having been implicated in Wyatt’s
rebellion. They would have been liberated at her marriage, but it had
been thought that the fear of death might induce them to make important
confessions. They were however released in January 1555, under personal
recognisances for their future good behaviour, subject to the payment
of sundry fines. Several of them were, notwithstanding, engaged in
another rebellious enterprise, a few months later.[494]
Elizabeth was not forgotten in the clemency so generally extended. She
too must feel the effect of the wonderful dawn of happiness that was at
last tinging all Mary’s existence with a rosy light. Even before her
marriage, the Queen had wished to restore her sister to liberty. But
the problem as to what should be done with her was not easy to solve.
She had thought of sending her to the Low Countries, where under the
eye of the widowed Queen of Hungary, Philip’s aunt, even Elizabeth
would find it difficult to do much mischief. Then a marriage was
proposed for her with Philibert Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy.
Closely as she was guarded by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, de Noailles found
means to communicate with her, and to advise her against this union.
He feared that she might consent to anything, in order to regain
her liberty. The Duke was a disinherited prince, and the project of
marrying her to him was nothing but a scheme for expatriating her,
perhaps even for depriving her of the hope she might entertain of one
day succeeding to the throne.[495]
Hereupon Elizabeth at once refused the Duke, without ever having seen
him. He had arrived in England during the Christmas holidays, leaving
at the beginning of January, and she was not released from captivity at
Woodstock until the following April.[496]
At the beginning of that month, Mary went to Hampton Court, where she
intended to await her confinement. On the 17th, Sir Henry Bedingfeld
received an order to convey the Lady Elizabeth to that place with all
despatch, together with her servants and her customary guard.[497] The
journey lasted four days, the third day being marked by a demonstration
in her favour, on the part of sixty of her tenants at Colnebrook.
But Bedingfeld, in the Queen’s name, ordered them all to retire, and
allowed none but her three women, an officer, two men-servants, and
a gentleman of her wardrobe to approach her. She arrived at Hampton
Court on the 29th, and was lodged in the apartment just then vacated by
the Duke of Alva, adjoining that of the King. All communication from
outside was cut off, and Bedingfeld’s soldiers mounted guard over her.
Her seclusion was almost as great as it had been at Woodstock. She was
not permitted to see the Queen, but according to documents discovered
a few years ago, and, of course, unknown to the early writers on this
reign, Philip visited her within a few days of her arrival.[498]
“The next day 29 April, Madam Elizabeth came to this Court, whom
the King went to visit two or three days after. She had been told
beforehand by the Queen her sister, to be dressed as richly as
possible, to receive the visit of the said King.”
What was said at this interview never transpired, but it is certain
that not a word passed Elizabeth’s lips, that could be construed into
a willingness to play the part of a repentant sinner. A demeanour of
injured and haughty innocence had served the accused Princess well,
when she was in imminent danger, and a prisoner in the Tower. She had
found it successful at Woodstock, and it was not likely that now,
when she was on the threshold of freedom, she would abate one iota
of her dignity. She knew that if there had been evidence against her
sufficient to convict, she would have been convicted long ago, and
she knew also that without that evidence her life was safe. After
a fortnight of solitude, she was allowed to see her great-uncle,
Lord William Howard, whom she begged to procure her the favour of an
interview with some members of the Privy Council. Accordingly, a few
days later, Gardiner, Arundel, Shrewsbury and Petre paid her a visit.
Foxe says:—
“Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, kneeled down, and
requested that she would submit herself to the queen’s grace; and in
so doing, he had no doubt but that her majesty would be good to her.
She made answer that rather than she would so do, she would lie in
prison all the days of her life; adding that she craved no mercy at
her majesty’s hand, but rather desired the law, if ever she did offend
her majesty in thought, word or deed. ‘And besides this, in yielding,’
quoth she, ‘I should speak against myself, and confess myself to be an
offender, which I never was towards her majesty, by occasion whereof,
the King and the Queen might ever hereafter conceive of me an evil
opinion. And therefore I say, my lords, it were better for me to lie in
prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of my prince.’
And so they departed, promising to declare her message to the queen.
“On the next day, the bishop of Winchester came again unto her grace,
and kneeling down, declared that the queen marvelled that she would so
stoutly use herself, not confessing that she had offended: so that
it should seem that the queen’s majesty had wrongfully imprisoned her
grace. ‘Nay,’ quoth the lady Elizabeth, ‘it may please her to punish
me as she thinketh good.’ ‘Well,’ quoth Gardiner, ‘her majesty willeth
me to tell you, that you must tell another tale, or that you be set at
liberty.’ Her grace answered, that she had as lieve be in prison with
honesty and truth, as to be abroad suspected of her majesty: ‘and this
that I have said, I will,’ said she, ‘stand unto: for I will never
belie myself’. Winchester again kneeled down, and said, ‘Then your
grace hath the vantage of me, and other the lords, for your wrong and
long imprisonment’. ‘What vantage I have,’ quoth she, ‘you know: taking
God to record I seek no vantage at your hands, for your so dealing
with me; but God forgive you and me also!’ With that the rest kneeled,
desiring her grace that all might be forgotten, and so departed, she
being fast locked up again.”[499]
Nevertheless, in spite of these bold words, so little was Elizabeth
resigned to a life of captivity that she never ceased besieging her
friends with letters, petitions that they would obtain her release, and
assurances of her innocence.[500]
“A sevennight after,” continues Foxe, “the queen sent for her grace at
ten of the clock in the night, to speak with her: for she had not seen
her in two years before. Yet for all that, she was amazed at the so
sudden sending for, thinking it had been worse for her than afterwards
it proved, and desired her gentlemen and gentlewomen to pray for her,
for that she could not tell whether ever she should see them again or
no. At which time, coming in, Sir Henry Benifield [Bedingfeld] with
mistress Clarencius,[501] her grace was brought into the garden unto a
stair’s foot that went to the queen’s lodging, her grace’s gentlewomen
waiting upon her, her gentleman-usher, and her grooms going before with
torches; where her gentleman and gentlewomen being commanded to stay
all, saving one woman, Mistress Clarencius conducted her to the queen’s
bedchamber, where her majesty was. At the sight of whom, her grace
kneeled down, and desired God to preserve her majesty, not mistrusting
but that she should try herself as true a subject towards her majesty
as ever did any; and desired her majesty even so to judge of her; and
said that she should not find her to the contrary, whatsoever report
otherwise had gone of her. To whom the queen answered, ‘You will not
confess your offence, but stand stoutly in your truth. I pray God
it may so fall out.’ ‘If it doth not,’ quoth the lady Elizabeth, ‘I
request neither favour nor pardon at your majesty’s hands.’ ‘Well,’
said the queen, ‘you stiffly still persevere in your truth. Belike you
will not confess but that you have been wrongfully punished.’ ‘I must
not say so, if it please your Majesty, to you.’ ‘Why then,’ said the
queen, ‘belike you will to others.’ ‘No, if it please your majesty,’
quoth she. ‘I have borne the burden, and must bear it. I humbly beseech
your majesty to have a good opinion of me, and to think me to be your
true subject, not only from the beginning hitherto, but for ever, as
long as life lasteth.’ And so they departed, with very few comfortable
words of the queen in English: but what she said in Spanish, God
knoweth. It is thought that King Philip was there, behind a cloth, and
not seen, and that he showed himself a very friend in that matter.”[502]
A week later, Sir Henry Bedingfeld’s task was done, and Elizabeth was
free.
Courtenay had been already released from his captivity at Fotheringhay
Castle, and had received advice from the King and Queen, equivalent to
a command, to travel for the improvement of his mind. He went first to
Brussels, from which place the English ambassador wrote to Sir William
Petre:—
“Last Sunday, the Earl of Devon was conducted to the Emperor by the
Duke of Alva. Masone was not present but by report of the Duke and
Chamberlain, whom the Earl has requested to be his interpreter if
necessary, he demeaned himself very well, declaring, among other
things, how much he was indebted to King Philip for helping him,
through the Queen’s favour out of custody, and also for procuring him
leave to see the world, whereby he might attain to such knowledge, as
displeasant fortune had caused him hitherto to lack: for which reason,
he had come to offer his services to the Emperor, the renown of whose
court was so great. His Majesty embraced his offer most willingly,
minding from time to time, to show him such signs of his favour, as the
Earl should have no cause to forthink his journey hither. To this he
said he was moved, not merely by the King’s and Queen’s recommendation,
but for the sake of the Earl’s father, whose noble virtues were not
unknown to him.”[503]
Courtenay afterwards went to Italy, where he died in 1556.
Meanwhile, elaborate preparations had been made for the advent of
Mary’s passionately longed for child. Public prayers were offered for
the Queen’s safety, and Parliament had petitioned Philip that “if it
should happen to the queen otherwise than well, in the time of her
travail, he would take upon himself the government of the realm during
the minority of her majesty’s issue, with the rule, order, education
and government of the said issue”.[504] In the Royal Library in
Paris is a letter addressed to the Queen of Navarre, and describing
an interview with Philip and Mary, at which the latter informed the
writer, that the first desire of her heart was to have a son. Letters
were written as the expected time approached, to announce the joyful
intelligence of the birth of a child, blank spaces being left for the
date and the sex to be filled in afterwards. But the time wore on
and passed, and it was at last clear that what had been mistaken for
the promise of motherhood, was but the beginning of a fatal disease.
Mary clung to the hope long after her physicians had assured her that
she would never give birth to a child, and most of those around her
flattered the hope, while they pitied the delusion. One of her women
was however more sincere and a contemporary document relates, “How Mrs.
Clarentius and divers others, as parasites about her, assured her to
be with child, insomuch as the Queen was fully so persuaded herself,
being right desirous thereof, if God had been so pleased, that it
might have been a comfort to all Catholic posterity, as she declared
by her oration in the Guild Hall at London, at the rising of Wyatt,
which was so worthy a speech made by her there, touching the cause of
her marriage and why, that it made them that were there, though of
contrary religion, to relent into tears, and hardly could she suffer
any that would not say as she said, touching her being with child. Mrs.
Frideswide Strelley, a good honourable woman of hers would not yield to
her desire, and never told her an untruth....”[505]
The writer then describes that “when the rockers and cradle, and all
such things were provided for the Queen’s delivery, that her time
should be nigh, as it was supposed, and those parasites had had all
the spoil of such things amongst them, and no such matter in the end
... then when the uttermost time was come, and the Queen thus deluded,
she sent for Sterly (_sic_) her woman again, to whom she said, ‘Ah,
Strelly, Strelly, I see they be all flatterers, and none true to me but
thou,’ and then was she more in favour than ever she was before”.
As the hope of an heir was gradually abandoned, all other reasons for
congratulation appeared also to fade away. De Noailles’ intrigues had
prepared a fresh harvest of discontent, and with Elizabeth’s release,
the turbulence of the Londoners assumed a more insolent character
than ever. Hideous lampoons were circulated, bearing upon the Queen’s
supposed condition, and to increase her agony of mind, Philip showed
signs of a sickening conviction of the uselessness of his sacrifice.
A little book of prayers, once belonging to Queen Mary is to be seen at
the British Museum.[506] Its leaves are worn and thumbed, and it opens
of itself at a blurred and tear-stained page, on which is a petition
for the unity of the Catholic Church, and another for the safe delivery
of a woman with child. These oft-conned prayers afford us a glimpse
into the Queen’s heart, which not all the despatches of ambassadors are
able to give.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 445: Santarem, _Relations diplomatiques de Portugal_, etc.,
vol. iii., p. 523 _et seq._]
[Footnote 446: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
257.]
[Footnote 447: Mgr. Namèche, _Le Règne de Philippe II._, vol. i., p. 7
_et seq._]
[Footnote 448: Armand Baschet, _La Diplomatie Vénitienne au seixième
siècle_, p. 239.]
[Footnote 449: “Relations des ambassadeurs sous Charles V et Philippe
II,” _Le Règne de Philippe II_, par Mgr. Namèche, vol. i., p. 7 _et
seq._]
[Footnote 450: Rawdon Brown, _Venetian Calendar_, 1534-54, p. 532.]
[Footnote 451: Machyn, Stow, Foxe and others all agree that there were
twenty cartloads of bullion.]
[Footnote 452: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
267.]
[Footnote 453: According to Renard. De Noailles says that he was
invested with the Order before disembarking.]
[Footnote 454: Created Viscount Montague after the royal marriage.]
[Footnote 455: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 285.]
[Footnote 456: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 287.]
[Footnote 457: _Ibid._, p. 280.]
[Footnote 458: Hume, whose history of Mary’s reign repeats the
prejudices of Foxe and others with unwarrantable additions of his own,
says, among a tissue of other inaccuracies, that the marriage took
place at Westminster. Murray’s reprint of Hume’s _History of England_,
corrected in some points by Brewer, rectifies this error.]
[Footnote 459: Some of the Spaniards commenced disembarking, either
because they were ordered to do so, or because they were tired of being
on ship-board, but the English Government made them go back (_Ven.
Cal._, vol. v., p. 923).]
[Footnote 460: Mgr. Namèche, _Le Règne de Philippe II_, etc., vol. i.,
p. 44 _et seq._]
[Footnote 461: According to other chroniclers, an hour; some say two
hours.]
[Footnote 462: John Elder’s letter, printed in the _Chronicle of Queen
Jane_, etc., p. 136, appendix.]
[Footnote 463: Wriothesley, vol. ii., p. 120.]
[Footnote 464: _The Marriage of Queen Mary and King Philip_, Official
Account of the English Heralds; printed in the _Chronicle of Queen
Jane_, etc., Appendix, p. 167.]
[Footnote 465: The Lady Margaret Clifford, Mary’s only female relative
present. Not, as Miss Strickland says, the Lady Margaret Douglas, who
was at that time Countess of Lennox.]
[Footnote 466: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., _ut supra_.]
[Footnote 467: Wriothesley, vol. ii., p. 120.]
[Footnote 468: Wriothesley, vol. ii., p. 121. Machyn, _Diary_, p. 67.
“Relation de ce qui s’est passé en la célébration du mariage de nostre
Prince, avec la sérénissime Reyne d’Angleterre,” Louvain Archives, Reg.
Côte, G., f. 339.]
[Footnote 469: _The Narrative of Edward Underhill_, Harl. MS. 425, f.
97, Brit. Mus.; printed in the _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 170,
appendix.
Underhill, although belonging to the so-called gospellers, and having
been arrested while Mary was in Suffolk, for a ballad which he had
written against Papists, was released a few days after her arrival in
London. He always remained a Protestant, but was so conspicuously loyal
to the Queen that he was never molested for religion during her reign.]
[Footnote 470: Holinshed, vol. iii., p. 1120.]
[Footnote 471: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
285.]
[Footnote 472: _Ibid._, p. 317.]
[Footnote 473: Holinshed, p. 1121. Froude in repeating this story
(_History of England_, vol. vi., p. 254), misled no doubt by Strype’s
marginal notes, makes it appear as if the Bible had been an offensive
object to Gardiner and the Queen, not that the grievance was, as the
chronicler expressly states, the fact of its being represented in
Henry’s hands, instead of in Mary’s.]
[Footnote 474: _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 305.]
[Footnote 475: _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 309 _et seq._]
[Footnote 476: _Ibid._, p. 323.]
[Footnote 477: Holinshed, p. 1121.]
[Footnote 478: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
281.]
[Footnote 479: Pole’s Correspondence, Latin, pp. 162-66; English
translation, _Venetian Cal._, 1534-54, 946.]
[Footnote 480: _Dictionary of National Biography_, article “Reginald
Pole”.]
[Footnote 481: Martin Hume, _The Great Lord Burghly_, p. 55. Although
Cecil never held any office under Mary, in consequence of the manner in
which he had distinguished himself in the first rebellion, he sometimes
appeared at court, was rich and influential, and spent most of his time
in luxurious ease at his house at Wimbledon. He not only professed
himself a Catholic, but according to Parsons in his _Three Conversions
of England_, common report attributed his safety during Mary’s reign to
the diligence with which he manipulated a monstrous pair of beads every
morning in Wimbledon Church. The first entry in the Easter book of
Wimbledon Parish in 1556 is: “My Master Sir Wilyam Cecell and my lady
Myldred his wyff,” denoting that they had made their Easter, _i.e._,
had confessed and received the Sacrament of the altar.]
[Footnote 482: Journal of the House of Commons, 38. Pole’s
Correspondence, appendix, 315-18. Thomas Phillips, _The Life of
Reginald Pole_.]
[Footnote 483: Cole MS., Brit. Mus.; printed in the _Portfolio of a Man
of Letters_.]
[Footnote 484: Journal of the House of Commons, 21st October 1555.]
[Footnote 485: Pole’s _Letters_, vol. v., pp. 293-300. Foxe, _Acts and
Monuments_.]
[Footnote 486: The Act 1 and 2, Philip and Mary, ch. 8, for restoring
the Pope’s supremacy was passed in January 1555.]
[Footnote 487: Ribier, _Lettres et Mémoires d’Etat_, vol. ii., p. 542.]
[Footnote 488: Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 123.]
[Footnote 489: _Ibid._, p. 125.]
[Footnote 490: _Venetian Calendar_, 1555-56, 150.]
[Footnote 491: Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. iii., pt. i.,
p. 342. “At this time there was so many Spaniards in London, that a man
should have met in the street for one Englishman, above four Spaniards,
to the great discomfort of the English nation” (_Chronicle of Queen
Jane_, etc., p. 81). For want of other accommodation, they were lodged
in the halls of the city companies.]
[Footnote 492: _Venetian Calendar_, vol. v., 966. St. Mark’s Library,
Cod. xxiv., Cl. x.]
[Footnote 493: _Venetian Calendar_, vol. vi., pt. i., 37.]
[Footnote 494: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. v., pp. 157, 159,
171, 173, new series. The disturbances here mentioned were the direct
consequence of the liberation of the disaffected.]
[Footnote 495: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. iii., pp. 262, 263.]
[Footnote 496: Miss Strickland is wrong in supposing that she was at
court in December 1554, returning afterwards to Woodstock. Renard, de
Noailles, Foxe, Holinshed, Stow and others only mention her appearance
there on her release in April 1555.]
[Footnote 497: _Bedingfeld Papers_, p. 225.]
[Footnote 498: _Archives des Affaires Etrangères_, Angleterre, vol. i.,
p. 827, Paris: “Mémoires et Instructions du sieur de la Marque allant
vers M. le Connestable.” Froude is also inaccurate in fixing the date
of Elizabeth’s departure from Woodstock in July, and in saying that the
Princess was received at Hampton Court by Lord William Howard, and that
the courtiers flocked round her, offering her their congratulations
(vol. vi., p. 357).]
[Footnote 499: Foxe, vol. viii., p. 620.]
[Footnote 500: Heywood, p. 156.]
[Footnote 501: The Queen’s Mistress of the Robes, otherwise spoken of
as Clarence.]
[Footnote 502: _Acts and Monuments_, ut supra.]
[Footnote 503: Calendar of State Papers, Mary, Foreign, 21st May 1555.]
[Footnote 504: _Statutes of the Realm_, iv., 255.]
[Footnote 505: Sloane MS. 1583, f. 15.]
[Footnote 506: _Ibid._]
CHAPTER XIII.
THE MARTYRS.
It is doubtful, even had her hopes of an heir not proved vain, whether
Mary would have been able to control the revolutionary movement that
had now spread from London into various parts of the country. She had
formed an alliance with the most powerful nation in Europe, she had
reconciled her kingdom to the one stable institution in Christendom,
she had worked incessantly to promote peace between the Emperor and the
French King, she had earnestly desired peace in her time; and there was
no peace.[507]
The enthusiasm with which her advent had been hailed had entirely
subsided, except among the poor, in country towns and villages, who
loved her to the last, and with whom she came in personal contact,
in the most informal manner, distributing alms, counsel and words of
kindness and sympathy. Many of her autograph letters in the Cotton
Library testify to the fidelity with which she remembered, through
life, the claims of her dependants, although she had scanty means
wherewith to reward them. The great royal progresses throughout the
country, for which Henry VIII. had had so marked a predilection, were
often a heavy tax upon the country people. In the time of hay-making
or harvesting it was a serious inconvenience to them to be pressed
into the royal service, and to have their horses and waggons seized
for the transport of household stuff and provisions for the court. As
often as not, they received little or no compensation, while their
beasts were so fatigued with the additional labour, that a further loss
of time was entailed, before they could use them again. Mary seldom
went in progress, and when she did, was careful not to trouble and vex
the country people, at times when their well-being for the whole year
depended on their industry. If she discovered that her Comptroller had
not acted fairly by them, she was extremely indignant, and would not
rest till she saw the poor folk righted.
She visited them in their own homes, accompanied by two or three of
her ladies, would sit down familiarly among them, and inquire into
their manner of living, talking kindly to them, while the poor man ate
his supper after his day’s work in the fields, little thinking that
he was confiding his troubles to the Queen, for Mary would have no
special ceremony paid to her by her suite, in order not to embarrass or
confuse him.[508] The help she afforded was always substantial and well
advised. If her poor neighbours were overburdened with children, she
did not content herself with dispensing alms, but took care to advise
them to live thriftily, bring up their boys and girls in the fear of
God, and sometimes apprenticed these to an honest trade, so that they
might be able to earn their living and better their condition. “This
she did,” writes the biographer of the Duchess of Feria, “in a poor
carpenter’s house, and the house of the widow of a husbandman. And in
this sort did she pass some hours with the poor neighbours, with much
plainness and affability; they supposing them all to be Queen’s maids,
for there seemed no difference. And if any complaints were made, she
commended the remembrance very particularly to Jane Dormer.”[509]
No religious or political agitators had as yet disturbed the loyalty
of these simple peasants; but in London, pasquinades directed against
the Queen had become of constant occurrence. Offensive and scurrilous
language was the order of the day. A boy named Featherstone was made
to personate Edward VI. in order to dispute her right. Treasonable
books, such as John Knox’s _Blast against the Monstrous Regiment of
Women_, Goodman’s _Superior Magistrate_, in which Wyatt was invoked as
a martyr, Poynet’s treatise on _Politic Power_, were busily circulated,
and roused the spirit of revolt in the minds of thousands of hitherto
peaceable citizens. The seditious availed themselves boldly of the
shibboleth liberty of conscience and of the 270 persons estimated by
Foxe, as having suffered for religion during this reign, many were,
quite apart from their religious opinions, traitors, assassins and
perjurers. The Venetian ambassador says, in a letter to the Doge, dated
13th May 1555:[510] “Certain knaves in this country endeavour daily
to disturb the peace and quiet, and present state of the kingdom, so
as if possible to induce some novelty and insurrection, there having
been publicly circulated of late throughout the city, a _Dialogue_
written and printed in English, full of seditious and scandalous things
against the religion and government, as also against the Council, the
Parliament, and chiefly against their Majesties’ persons; and although
all diligence has been used for the discovery of the authors, no light
on the subject has yet been obtained, save that an Italian has been
put in the Tower, he being a master for teaching the Italian tongue to
Milady Elizabeth, some suspicion having been apparently entertained
of him. The edition of the _Dialogue_ was so copious, that a thousand
copies have been taken to the Lord Mayor, who by order of their
Majesties, commanded all those who had any of them to bring them to him
under heavy penalties.”
A royal proclamation was then issued, to the effect that all books,
both Latin and English, concerning “any heretical, erroneous or
slanderous doctrines, might be destroyed and burnt throughout the
realm,” as also against conveying into the kingdom any books, writings
or works by writers thereinafter named. All the names of the principal
reformers follow, as also that of Erasmus, who was at that time looked
upon with distrust. The Book of Common Prayer “set forth by the
authority of Parliament” in the reign of Edward VI. was to be delivered
up within the space of fifteen days, to be burned or otherwise disposed
of.[511]
But these measures only increased the fanaticism. William Thomas,
who had been clerk of the Council under Edward, and was a disciple
of the preacher Goodman, plotted to murder the Queen, “for which he
was sent to the Tower, and afterwards executed, at which time he said
he died for his country”.[512] Wriothesley and Machyn both chronicle
a murderous attack made on a priest at the altar rails. The former
says: “The 4 day of April (1555) being Easter Day was a lewd fact
done in the church of St. Margaret, Westminster. Sir John Sleuther,
priest, ministering the sacrament to the parishioners, and holding the
chalice in his left hand, one William Branch, _alias_ called Flower,
in a serving-man’s coat, suddenly drew a wood knife, and struck the
priest on the head, that the blood ran down, and fell both on the
chalice and on the consecrated bread. The said person was apprehended,
and committed to the Gatehouse in Westminster.” Machyn adds that the
ruffian assaulted the priest, after saying that “by the idolatory which
he committed, he deceived the crowds of souls there assembled, with
other disgusting language, and gave him two deep wounds, one in the
hand, the other in the head, that he fell as if dead, causing such
an uproar and tumult, in part from the shrieks of the women, and the
multitude of persons present, who pursued the man as if to put him to
death. It was thought for a moment that the English had risen for the
purpose of massacring the Spaniards, and all the other foreigners who
lived in that quarter. The man was seized, and burnt for the assault,
on the 24th April following, outside St. Margaret’s churchyard.”[513]
This outrage was a bold advance on the part of the revolutionists, who
the previous year had contented themselves with derisively hanging a
cat on the gallows in Cheapside, dressed in full pontificals.
Holinshed, Stow and Strype all tell a story of a fraud, perpetrated
by the Queen’s enemies. Strange sounds were heard to issue from a
house in Aldersgate Street, interspersed with obscure words, perfectly
incomprehensible, until they were interpreted by certain persons who
were in the secret. These told the crowds assembled in front of the
house, that what they heard was the voice of the Holy Ghost, warning a
wicked and perverse generation. It inveighed, they said, against the
Queen’s marriage, and the impiety of the Mass; and the citizens were
threatened with war, famine, pestilence and earthquakes. The tumult
became so great, that the magistrates ordered the front wall of the
house to be demolished, when a young woman, named Elizabeth Crofts,
crept out of a hiding place, and confessed that she had been hired to
commit the fraud. She was put in the pillory, but afterwards pardoned
and sent home.[514]
The way in which religion was purposely confused with political
grievances, real or supposed, was the cause of more than half the
difficulty. The Council were still for prosecuting the criminals for
heresy, the Emperor for ever maintained that they should be tried for
treason.
The Venetian ambassador notifies a slight insurrection in Essex,
whereupon Bonner received an order from the Privy Council to send
“certain discreet and learned preachers to reduce the people who
hath been of late seduced by sundry lewd persons named ministers
there”.[515] The state of affairs is thus seen to have entered into
a vicious circle. The lawlessness of the sectaries prompted severe
reprisals, and the punishments inflicted did but aggravate the evil
instead of suppressing it. “I have never,” said Renard, “seen the
people so disturbed and discontented as now.” For six months, he had
not ceased urging that Elizabeth, who was, he considered, the cause of
all the troubles, should be sent abroad.
The opinion was at that time general, that capital punishment might
be inflicted in religious matters. Catholics and Reformers were
alike agreed on this subject, differing only as to their definition
of heresy. Catholics regarded it as a revolt from the teaching of a
divinely appointed Church; each individual Reformer submitted it to
the test of his own private judgment. Calvin burned Servetus for his
opinions on the Blessed Trinity, an act that was not only attended with
as many aggravating circumstances as any death for heresy that had
ever been suffered, but which was almost unanimously applauded by the
Protestants of that time, Melancthon, Bullinger and Farel all writing
to express their approval of it. Those who objected were called by
Beza, “emissaries of Satan”. Luther, in his reply to Philip of Hesse,
distinctly asserted the right of civil magistrates to punish heresy
with death, a right that was maintained by the Helvetic, Belgic,
Scottish and Saxon confessions. Calvin, Beza and Jurieu all wrote
books to prove the lawfulness of persecution for false doctrine, each
having independent views of what was the true.[516] Knox in his famous
_Appellation_ says: “None provoking the people to idolatry ought to
be exempted from the punishment of death ... it is not only lawful to
punish to the death such as labour to subvert the true religion, but
the magistrates and people are bound to do so, unless they will provoke
the wrath of God against themselves ... and therefore, my Lords, to
return to you, seeing that God hath armed your hands with the sword of
justice, seeing that His law most straightly commandeth idolaters and
false prophets to be punished with death, and that you be placed above
your subjects, to reign as fathers over children, and further, seeing
that not only I, but with me many thousand famous, godly and learned
persons accuse your bishops, and the whole rabble of the Papistical
clergy, of idolatry, of murder and of blasphemy against God committed,
it appertaineth to your honours to be vigilant and careful in so
weighty a matter. The question is not of earthly substance, but of the
glory of God and of the salvation of yourselves.”[517]
In Edward’s reign, Cranmer not only pronounced sentence on Joan Bocher,
for holding that Christ was not incarnate of the Blessed Virgin Mary,
but informed the King, in delivering her over to the civil power, that
she was to be “deservedly punished,” which meant that she was to be
burned.[518] He also pronounced sentence on van Parris, and gave the
same recommendation, and handed over several Anabaptists to be burned
at Smithfield. In his new code of ecclesiastical discipline, Cranmer
classed belief in Transubstantiation, in Papal supremacy, and in the
denial of justification by faith alone, as heresy. But Edward died
before this code had obtained the sanction of Parliament.[519]
Both in England and Scotland, the Reformation signalised itself by a
law, making it penal for any priest to say Mass, for any worshipper
to hear it, under pain of death for the one, of confiscation of his
goods, heavy fines, exile, and finally death for the other. “One
Mass,” exclaimed Knox, “is more fearful to me than if ten thousand
armed enemies were landed in any part of the realm!” In 1572, the two
Houses of Convocation implored Elizabeth to put Mary Queen of Scots
to death, giving as one reason, that she had endeavoured to seduce
God’s people to idolatry, and that according to the Old Testament, all
who did so should be put to death.[520] “There was an express order
that no pity should be shown them.” But not only did the Reformers
adopt the principle, that heresy, such as each understood it to be,
was punishable by death, the newly established Protestant Governments
also claimed the right to define heresy, as well as to punish it. Mr.
Lecky states no more than bare facts, when he says that, “In Scotland
during nearly the whole period that the Stuarts were on the throne of
England, a persecution, rivalling in atrocity almost any on record, was
directed by the English Government, at the instigation of the Scotch
bishops, and with the approval of the English Church, against all
who repudiated episcopacy. If a conventicle was held in a house, the
preacher was liable to be put to death. If it was held in the open air,
both minister and people incurred the same fate. The Presbyterians were
hunted like criminals over the mountains. Their ears were torn from the
roots. They were branded with hot irons. Their fingers were wrenched
asunder by the thumbkins. The bones of their legs were shattered in the
boots. Women were scourged publicly through the streets. Multitudes
were transported to Barbadoes, infuriated soldiers were let loose
upon them and encouraged to exercise all their ingenuity in torturing
them.”[521]
It is thus clear, that if the sixteenth century, and the ages preceding
it were not acquainted with our modern ideas of religious toleration,
neither indeed were the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth
centuries. As late as 1679, an Irish Franciscan was executed for his
priesthood at Ruthin, being hanged, cut down while yet alive, drawn and
quartered;[522] and in 1729 died in Hurst Castle another Franciscan,
Father Paul Atkinson, who had been apprehended and condemned to
perpetual imprisonment for the same crime.[523]
On the Catholic side, two authorities may be quoted in favour of the
punishment of heresy as a crime; and the standpoint from which it was
so regarded may be briefly stated thus. Before the Reformation, the
Catholic Church was universally recognised as the sole depositary of
revealed truth. To the mediæval mind, he who was convicted of spreading
doctrine contrary to the teaching of this divine institution was worse
than a fratricide, since by poisoning the wells of truth, he murdered
not his brother’s perishable body, but his immortal soul, and was,
therefore, deserving of death. It is difficult for us, whose minds are
necessarily imbued with modern ideas, to realise the mode of thought
concerning novelties of doctrine which agitated all the countries
of Europe in the middle ages, and which still agitated them when so
much that was purely mediæval had passed away. Nor can we estimate to
the full the depth of those profound convictions, on the subject of
revealed religion, which called forth the ecclesiastical and civil
enactments, framed to prevent any tampering with dogma. We have in our
days no practical experience of a system _universally_ admitted and
recognised to be the sole depositary of revealed truth, such as the
Catholic Church was acknowledged to be, before the rise and growth of
Protestantism. Accustomed to the presence of religious speculation,
doubt, and unbelief around us, or at least to the existence of varying
creeds, we are familiar with the notion that every man may weigh and
consider the credibility of each doctrine proposed to him, and that
he is at liberty to accept or reject it, to halve or to double it,
according to the promptings of his own individual judgment. Religious
truth has come to be considered so much a personal affair, that Roman
Catholics are perhaps alone in looking upon it as a divine deposit,
a purely objective matter, independent of what this or that man may
think, and to be accepted undoubtingly by the faithful. And this was
precisely the state of the pre-Reformation mind. But the opinion is
sometimes expressed in our own day, that were the Catholic Church
again powerful, as in the middle ages, we should see a recurrence of
persecution as determined as any that marked with horror the former
annals of our country. The notion is as absurd as it would be to
imagine that if the Puritans were again masters, they would bring back
the thumbkin, the boots, the rack and the sword, in order to enforce
the uselessness of good works. No organised persecution could ever
be possible where the general trend of ideas was not in its favour.
Our thicker-skinned ancestors had far less sympathy with bodily
suffering, and a much lower appreciation of the value of human life
than ourselves. In an age when coiners and forgers were punished with
death, it would have seemed incongruous that apostates and heretics
should fare more softly.[524] The Reformers, who rejected nearly every
tenet held by the universal Church, were almost all agreed to retain
the punishment by which those tenets had been vindicated. St. Thomas
Aquinas says:—
“The crime of heresy must be considered first in itself and then in its
connexion with the Church. If we consider the crime in itself, heretics
deserve not only to be cut off from the Church by excommunication, but
to be cut off from the world by death. They are more guilty than those
who coin false money, for it is more grave to corrupt the faith which
is the life of the soul, than to falsify coins, by which that of the
body is supported; and thus they are justly put to death like other
malefactors. Considered in connexion with the Church, it is clear that
she, ever merciful and desirous of obtaining the conversion of those
who are in error, does not at once condemn the heretic, but exhorts him
to repentance, according to the teaching of the apostle. It is only
when he shows himself obstinate, and if she despairs of his salvation,
that she cuts him off from herself, and abandons him to the secular arm
that he may be put to death.”[525]
The fourth Lateran Council decreed, that no beneficed clerk, or any
clerk in holy orders, might take any part, even the most mechanical
and subordinate, in the judicial doing to death of a criminal.[526]
Heresy was, however, looked upon as an ecclesiastical as well as a
civil offence, the delinquent first committing a grave crime against
God, by denying and attacking the truths which He had revealed, so
that by his example he led other men astray. Secondly, by so doing he
raised tumults, and endangered the peace of the commonwealth. He was,
therefore, tried in the ecclesiastical courts, and if found guilty and
obdurate, was handed over to the State for punishment. “Cognisance
of heresies, errors and Lollardies appertaineth to the judge of holy
Church.”[527]
Long before the rise of Lollardy, burning at the stake was the
recognised punishment for heresy, just as decapitation and hanging
were the penalty for the crimes of treason and murder. An obstinate
Albigensian was burned in London in 1210, and in 1222 a deacon suffered
death at Oxford, for turning Jew, and marrying a Jewess.[528] The first
Act of Parliament against heresy was passed in the reign of Henry
IV. (1401) and dealt with the suppression of Lollardy. Nevertheless,
the placing of the new law on the statute book was not followed by
any great increase in the number of punishments, and there were more
burnings in the reign of Henry VIII. than in the whole of the previous
century.
The second authority on the Catholic side on the subject of the
punishment of heresy is an Englishman, Sir Thomas More, who says:—
“As touching heretics, I hate that vice of theirs, and not their
persons, and very fain would I that the one were destroyed and the
other saved. And that I have toward no man any other mind than this—how
loudly soever these blessed new brethren and professors and preachers
of heresy belie me—if all the favour and pity that I have used among
them to their amendment were known, it would, I warrant you well and
plain appear; whereof, if it were requisite, I could bring forth
witnesses more than men would ween. Howbeit, because it were neither
right nor honesty, that any man should look for more than he deserveth,
I will that all the world wit it on the other side, that whoso be so
deeply grounded in malice, to the harm of his own soul, and other men’s
too, and so set upon the sowing of seditious heresies, that no good
means that men may use unto him can pull that malicious folly out of
his poisoned, proud, obstinate heart, I would rather be content that
he were gone in time, than overlong to tarry to the destruction of
other.”[529]
Mary’s Parliament of 1554, which abolished her title of Supreme Head of
the Church of England, threw out the bill for reviving the Act of 1401
against heresy, chiefly on Paget’s motion, but it was brought in again
in the following January, and in four days it had passed through both
Houses without opposition.
It was felt that a breakwater had become imperatively necessary to
stop the inflowing tide of sedition. Ross, a reformed preacher, prayed
openly, that God would “either convert the heart of the Queen, or take
her out of this world”. It was then made treason to pray in public for
the Queen’s death. But those who had been already committed for this
offence might recover their liberty, by making humble protestation and
promise of amendment.
While the Council were debating on the manner in which the revived Act
should be enforced, the Queen sent them a message, written in her own
hand, in which, after expressing her wishes with regard to several
points of ecclesiastical discipline, she said:—
“Touching punishment of heretics, me thinketh it ought to be done
without rashness, not leaving in the meanwhile to do justice to such
as by learning would seem to deceive the simple: and the rest so to be
used, that the people might well perceive them not to be condemned
without just occasion, whereby they shall both understand the truth,
and beware to do the like: and especially within London, I would wish
none to be burnt without some of the Council’s presence, and both there
and everywhere good sermons at the same”.[530]
From the fact that the Queen advocated sermons at the stake it has
been inferred that Philip exercised considerable influence on the
persecution, as it was the Spanish custom for preachments to be held at
the _autos da fe_ of heretics. But indeed the custom was quite as much
an English as it was a Spanish one. At the burning of Friar Forest, for
refusing to acknowledge Henry’s ecclesiastical supremacy, Hugh Latimer
preached for three hours against the Papal claims, when the martyr
fixing his eyes on him said: “Seven years back thou durst not have made
such a sermon for thy life!”
It is probable, that neither Philip nor Mary was keen to punish as
heresy, the rebellious spirit manifested by the religionists. The
persecution was a movement of expediency, set on foot by the Council,
as a means of coping with the disturbances. The Emperor and Renard
were distinctly opposed to it, and now the Spanish friar, Alfonso de
Castro, Philip’s confessor, in preaching before the court, strenuously
denounced the measure, which he would scarcely have ventured to do
in so public a manner, if it had been ardently desired by the King
and Queen. Moreover, the most enlightened among the English clergy,
including the Bishop of London, who had at first been in favour of it,
though agreeing in the general principle, that erroneous thinking led
to erroneous acting, were against its adoption at this juncture. But
Parliament willed it, and “it was not therefore,” says an authority on
English law, “the policy of the church but of the crown, and not merely
of the crown but of the state. It was the act of the crown with the
authority of Parliament, and the assent of the council.”[531]
The same writer, accentuating this opinion, which appears
incontrovertible, says in another place:—
“With reference to this unhappy persecution, it appears important to
observe, that it was not the will of the church but of the state, that
it was the result not of the religious bigotry of ecclesiastics, but of
state policy, and there is reason to believe not a little, of the worst
and vilest state craft. It did not commence until after the marriage
with the Spanish King, nor until after the lapse of two years after
the restoration of the ancient religion, and then it was not only not
instigated but it was rather discouraged by the prelates; and though
it was no doubt authorized by the sovereign, it was at the advice of
her council, composed chiefly of laymen. The Cardinal Legate opposed
it, the King’s confessor preached against it, the prelates acted only
upon compulsion, and there is reason to believe from the Queen’s reply
to the representation of the council, that she rather yielded to
their advice, and desired the execution of the measure not only to be
moderated, but to be directed rather against popular agitators, than
against mere private holders of heretical opinions.”[532]
Our principal data for the history of this persecution are derived
from John Foxe’s _Acts and Monuments_, and the martyrologist’s spirit
of animosity, wilful misrepresentation and neglect to rectify obvious
errors, have exposed his book to everlasting reproach. On the death of
his last descendant, the greater number of his manuscripts were either
given to Strype, or allowed to remain in Strype’s hands till his death
in 1737, when many of them were purchased for the Harleian Collection,
now in the British Museum. A few found their way into the Lansdowne
Library. They include amongst a mass of heterogeneous documents of
the most unequal value and interest—such as the depositions of some
who were really present at the different executions for religion in
the reign of Queen Mary, minutes of the examination of prisoners,
apparently written on the spot, fantastic stories of his favourite
theory concerning the judgments of God, on those who persecuted the
followers of the reformed doctrines, and the thrilling legend of Pope
Joan—several statements sent to Foxe for the purpose of correcting
portions of his work, but of which he never made any use. Nearly, if
not quite all the material for that part of the _Acts and Monuments_,
which deals with the reign of Mary, was collected by others for Foxe
and Grindal, during their absence from England. Grindal handed over
to Foxe the accounts of the various prosecutions for heresy sent to
him by his correspondents at home, taking care, however, at the same
time, to warn the martyrologist against placing too much confidence
in them, he himself suspending his judgment, “till more satisfactory
evidence came from good hands”. He advised him for the present, only
to print separately the acts of particular persons, of whom they had
authentic accounts, and to wait for a larger and completer history,
until they had reliable information of the whole persecution.[533] But
the careful investigation which Grindal recommended did not fall in
with the particular genius and uncritical methods of Foxe, who, perhaps
on account of his necessitous condition, worked with a will, on the
unsifted tales and reports, as they came to hand, so that the book
in its Latin form was completed, almost to the end of Mary’s reign,
and was published at Basle, before his return to England in 1559. He
afterwards made an English translation of the work, but without seeing
fit to revise his material, and it was given to the public under the
title of _Acts and Monuments_. It was at once popularly styled the
_Book of Martyrs_.
When attacked by Alan Cope (Nicholas Harpsfield) for his inaccuracies,
Foxe replied, “I hear what you will say; I should have taken more
leisure, and done it better. I grant and confess my fault; such is my
vice. I cannot sit all the day (M. Cope) fining and mincing my letters,
and combing my head, and smoothing myself all the day at the glass of
Cicero. Yet notwithstanding doing what I can, and doing my good will,
methinks I should not be reprehended.”[534] Parsons in his _Three
Conversions of England_[535] makes “a note of more than a hundred and
twenty lies uttered by John Foxe in less than three leaves of his _Acts
and Monuments_,” and he proceeds to point them out, beginning with the
lie concerning John Marbeck, and some others, whom he counts among the
martyrs, although they were never burned at all. John Marbeck was an
eminent musician and a controversial writer on the Protestant side. As
in consequence of Parsons’ remark, Foxe acknowledged the error, in his
second edition, he may be held excused thus far; but his delinquencies
in this respect were not infrequent, and gave rise to the saying that
“Many who were burnt in the reign of Queen Mary drank sack in the days
of Queen Elizabeth”.[536]
Two similar mistakes which he was in a position to correct and did not,
relate to the supposed death by the vengeance of God, of Henry Morgan,
Bishop of St. David’s, and of one Grimwood, another “notorious Papist”.
Anthony à Wood, the famous antiquary and historian, who wrote his
_History of the Antiquities of Oxford_ about a hundred years after Foxe
had become celebrated as a martyrologist, and who in his youth spoke
with people who remembered the days of persecution in the reign of
Mary, says that “Henry Morgan was esteemed a most admirable civilian
and canonist; he was for several years the constant Moderator of all
those that performed exercise for their degrees in the civil law in the
school or schools, hall and church pertaining to that faculty, situated
also in the same parish.... He was elected Bishop of St. David’s upon
the deprivation of Robert Ferrar.... In that see he sate till after
Queen Elizabeth came to the Crown, and then being deprived ... retired
among his friends, and died a devoted son to the Church of Rome, on
the 23 of December following (1559) of whose death, hear I pray what
John Fox saith in this manner: _Morgan, Bishop of St. David’s who
sate upon the condemnation of the blessed Martyr Bishop Ferrar, and
unjustly usurped his room, was not long after stricken by God’s hand,
after such a strange sort, that his meat would not go down, but rise
and pick up again, sometimes at his mouth, sometimes blown out of his
nose, most horribly to behold, and so he continued till his death_.
Thus Fox followed by Thomas Beard, in his _Theatre of God’s Judgments_.
But where or when his death happened they tell us not, nor any author
hitherto, only when. Now therefore be pleased to know, that the said
Bishop Morgan, retiring after his deprivation to and near Oxon, where
he had several relations and acquaintance living, particularly the
Owens of Godstow in the parish of Wolvercote, near the said city, did
spend the little remainder of his life in great devotion at Godstow,
but that he died in the condition which Fox mentions, there is no
tradition among the inhabitants of Wolvercote. True it is that I have
heard some discourse many years ago from some of the ancients of that
place, that a certain Bishop did live for some time, and exercised his
charity and religious counsel among them, and there died, but I could
never learn anything of them of the manner of his death, which being
very miserable as John Fox saith, methinks that they should have a
tradition of it, as well as of the man himself, but I say there is now
none, nor was there any thirty years ago, among the most aged persons
then living at that place, and therefore whether there be anything of
truth in it may be justly doubted; and especially for this reason, that
in the very same chapter and leaf containing the severe punishment
upon persecutors of God’s People, he hath committed a most egregious
falsity in reporting that one Grimwood, of Higham in Suffolk, died in
a miserable manner, for swearing and bearing false witness against one
John Cooper, a carpenter of Watsam in the same county; for which he
lost his life. The miserable death of the said Grimwood was as John
Fox saith thus, that _when he was in his labour, staking up a gosse
of corn, having his health, and fearing no peril, suddenly his bowels
fell out of his body, and immediately most miserably he died_. Now it
so fell out that in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, one Prick became
parson of the parish where the said Grimwood dwelt, and preaching
against perjury, being not acquainted with his parishioners, cited
the said story of Fox, and it happening that Grimwood being alive, and
in the said church, he brought an action upon the case against the
parson, but Judge Anderson, who sate at the assizes, in the county of
Suffolk did adjudge it not maintainable, because it was not spoken
maliciously.”[537]
That the case was not maintained on this ground, as against the parson,
was no doubt fair and just, but Foxe cannot himself be as reasonably
acquitted, for although he went into Suffolk to investigate the matter,
he never made any alteration in his story, which has appeared in all
the subsequent editions of his work.
It would be beyond the scope of the present volume to indicate all the
misstatements and distorted facts of which he was guilty, some being,
no doubt, as much the result of the far too ambitious scheme of his
undertaking, as of his preconceived malice.
Thirty years after the death of Sir Thomas More, the martyrologist
proceeded to collect all the traditional gossip afloat concerning the
Chancellor’s treatment of certain individuals accused of heresy; and
he gravely introduces it into his _Acts and Monuments_ as historical
fact. All these fables had been refuted by More himself, in his famous
_Apology_, made at a time when, although he stood alone, defenceless
and obnoxious, none were bold enough to challenge his truth.
We shall, later on, have occasion incidentally to notice cases of
Foxe’s glaring inaccuracy; suffice it here to mention one instance,
which is fairly representative of his manner. He chronicles the
martyrdom at Newent, on the 25th September 1556, of “Jhon Horne and a
woman”. On investigation it transpires, that the story is nothing more
than an amplification of the burning of Edward Horne, who suffered on
the 25th September 1558, and that no woman suffered at either of these
times. This confusion was first notified by John Deighton, a friendly
critic of the _Acts and Monuments_, clearly not disposed to magnify its
imperfections.
It is one of the many anomalies which confront the student of sixteenth
century methods, that the _Book of Martyrs_ being what it is, a mass
of unsorted fact and fiction, carelessly thrown together, often proved
untrustworthy, rarely corrected, and at the best uncritical, one-sided
and violent, should not merely have leapt into the foremost rank of
contemporary literature, but should have attained in the popular
estimation the level of the Bible itself. Foxe had been penniless when
he returned to England in 1559, but the success of his book, first
published in 1563, made his fortune. The Catholics called it derisively
_Foxe’s Golden Legend_. In 1570, a second edition was printed, in two
volumes folio, and Convocation decreed that the book designated by the
canon as _Monumenta Martyrum_, should be placed in cathedral churches,
and in the houses of the great ecclesiastical dignitaries. This decree,
although never confirmed by Parliament, was so much in accordance
with the Puritan tone of the whole Church of England at that time,
that even parish churches, far and wide were furnished with copies of
the work, chained side by side with the Bible. The vestry minutes of
St. Michael’s Church, Cornhill, of the 11th January, 1571-72, ordered
“that the booke of Martyrs of Mr. Foxe, and the paraphrases (of the
Gospel) of Erasmus shalbe bowght for the church, and tyed with a chain
to the Egle bras”. A few years ago, mutilated copies of the _Acts
and Monuments_ might still be seen chained, in the parish churches
of Apethorpe (Northamptonshire), of Arreton (Isle of Wight), of
Chelsea, of Eustone (Oxfordshire), Kinver (Staffordshire), Lessingham
(Norfolk), St. Nicholas (Newcastle-on-Tyne), Northwold (Norfolk),
Stratford-on-Avon, Waltham, St. Cuthbert (Wells).[538]
No more potent means could have been devised for saturating the
national mind with a hatred of Queen Mary, and of her religion, than
the diffusion of the _Book of Martyrs_ on this gigantic scale. In a
short time, there was scarcely a parish church in England, that did not
possess a copy of the work, which was at the disposal of all who could
read. Those who were illiterate might frequently be seen standing in
a group round the lectern, while one among them read aloud from the
graphic pages. In many churches, a chapter was read to the assembled
congregations every Sunday evening along with the Bible, and the
clergy constantly made its stories of martyrdom the subject of their
sermons. One of the indictments against Archbishop Laud, at his trial,
was the fact of his having ordered the book to be withdrawn from some
churches.[539] But the secret of its charm for Puritan England did not
altogether lie in its anti-Marian character, or in the partisanship
of its garbled facts, and fictitious heroisms. The simplicity of its
vigorous English, the picturesque, though minute circumstances which
it detailed, the very boldness with which it lied, and above all, its
appeal to the newly awakened passion for the private interpretation of
Scripture, endeared it to the children of the new era. Nevertheless,
it was undeniably one of the most powerful engines in the conspiracy
to blacken Mary’s fame, and cast a lurid light on the few years of
her troubled reign. It was not so much an epoch-making book as the
embodiment of a movement, the effects of which have not yet passed
away, and even the _Pilgrim’s Progress_, a far more imaginative and
strictly religious work than Foxe’s, did not displace the _Acts and
Monuments_ in the religious life of the nation. The two together did
perhaps more than anything else to wean the people from the old faith.
But, apart from all misrepresentation, exaggeration, distorted evidence
and positive fiction, there remains the fact that a considerable number
of persons did perish at the stake in Mary’s reign, although it is as
great an historical absurdity to apply to Mary the epithet “bloody,”
as it is to attach that of “good” to Queen Elizabeth. Mary did but
sanction that which was not only the common practice throughout
Christendom, but which had been the law of England for more than 150
years, and which continued in force for upwards of a century after
her. Utterly repugnant to modern ideas as is the thought which made
it possible to punish any religious propaganda with the death of the
propagandist, we must admit that Mary, and those whose business it was
to carry out the law, far from entertaining feelings of vengeance,
provided every possible loophole of escape for those under examination.
Moreover, the accused, even on the showing of Foxe, instead of being
the meek and lamb-like martyrs we have been led to consider them,
persistently flouted their judges, and treated them with flippant
insolence and contempt.
Immediately after the revival of the statute, it was Gardiner’s
unwelcome duty, with thirteen other bishops and a number of laymen, to
sit in a commission of inquiry into the teaching of four Churchmen,
Hooper, the deprived Bishop of Gloucester; Rogers, Prebendary of St.
Paul’s; Saunders, Rector of Allhallows, and Taylor, Rector of Hadley in
Sussex. This was the only occasion on which Gardiner presided over a
trial for heresy.
Hooper, by far the most distinguished of the four, had had a singularly
chequered career, even for those stirring times. Perhaps even more
than Cranmer, he had come under the influence of the German reformers.
He had entered the cloister at an early age, and had graduated as a
religious at Oxford, but had returned to secular life, after some fray
in which he was concerned. He fed his mind on the writings of Zwingli
and Bullinger, and identified himself so closely with their opinions,
that on the promulgation of the _Six Articles_ he was obliged to fly
the country. He went to Zürich, the hot-bed of Calvinism, and there
attacked Gardiner’s book on the Holy Eucharist. On Edward’s accession,
he returned to England, and continued the controversy in a lecture
which he delivered on the 1st September 1549. This lecture brought him
into notice and favour with the Council, and when Bonner attacked his
doctrine in a powerful sermon preached to a large congregation at St.
Paul’s, Hooper retaliated by denouncing the Bishop of London.[540]
Bonner was therefore examined as to his belief in the dogma in
question, deprived, and sent to the Tower. But although Hooper was now
made King’s Preacher, he did not allow himself to exult greatly over
his good fortune. “Sharp and dangerous,” said he, “has been my contest
with that bishop; if he be restored again to his office, I shall be
restored to my Father which is in heaven.”[541] He threw himself with
ardour into the war then raging against altars, vestments, priests
and bishops, putting himself at the head of the Gospellers. None of
his contemporaries surpassed him in forcible language. In 1551 some
altars were still standing in the diocese of Chichester, in spite of
the decree of the Council, that they should be destroyed, and Masses
were still surreptitiously offered at some of them.[542] “The bishops
and priests do damnable and devilish superstition,” he exclaimed in one
of his sermons,[543] “saying Mass, conjuring the holy water bucket and
the like, in the congregation of God.... Into the sea with all clerks
who will not preach the true doctrine and teach the catechism.” The
Council owed it mainly to Hooper, if their behests were at last obeyed.
“So long as the altars remain, the ignorant people and evil-persuaded
priests will dream of sacrifice,” he persisted, until even the places
where the altars had stood were whitewashed, so that no vestige of
them might remain. In one of his pungent sermons, he went so far as to
condemn Cranmer’s new Prayer Book, as savouring too much of Popery.
For this he was brought before the Council, but came out of the debate
victorious, and was offered a bishopric which he refused, saying, “I
cannot put on me a surplice and a cope. I cannot swear by created
beings.” Even Edward’s Government found his eloquence inconvenient, and
he was sent to the Fleet for his intemperate preaching.[544] He was at
length consecrated Bishop of Gloucester, with the usual ceremonies,
but was afterwards allowed to discard the hated vestments of
Episcopacy, “the rags of the harlot of Babylon,” as he described them.
He does not seem to have had any scruple in holding the bishopric of
Worcester _in commendam_; but he consistently maintained the greatest
simplicity, forbade the people under his jurisdiction, to stand at the
reading of the Gospel, or to kneel when they received Communion.[545]
He was indefatigable in striving to enlighten the gross ignorance
of his clergy. “Out of 300, 168 were unable to repeat the Ten
Commandments, 31 knew not where to find them in the Bible, 40 could not
find the Lord’s Prayer in the Bible, and 31 did not know who framed
it.”[546]
On the 1st September 1553, Hooper was again committed to the Fleet,
not apparently on a charge of religion, but for debts due to the
Crown.[547] While he was in prison, the statute against Lollardy was
again enforced, and he and his three companions were examined as to
their doctrine. They pleaded conscientious objections to the religion
restored by the Queen. Gardiner allowed them twenty-four hours
for reflection, but on their second refusal to retract, they were
excommunicated, degraded, and handed over to the civil power. Hooper
was sent back to Gloucester, where he suffered at the stake. Rogers was
burned at Smithfield, Saunders at Coventry, and Taylor at Hadley.
Nevertheless, Gardiner was by no means the savage tyrant Foxe
represents him to be. His personal kindness to the proscribed brethren
was amply acknowledged by them. He furnished Peter Martyr with funds
to escape out of England, shielded Thomas Smith, formerly Secretary
to Edward VI., from persecution, and generously allowed him a yearly
pension of £100 for his support. Of his behaviour to Roger Ascham,
the reformer himself said, “Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester,
High Chancellor of England, treated me with the utmost humanity and
favour, so that I cannot easily decide whether Paget was more ready
to commend me, or Winchester to protect and benefit me; there were
not wanting some, who on the ground of religion, attempted to stop
the flow of his benevolence towards me, but to no purpose. I owe very
much to the humanity of Winchester, and not only I, but many others
who have experienced his kindness.”[548] One of the “many others” was
John Frith, whom Gardiner did his best to save.[549] It was said,
that even the Duke of Northumberland would not have perished, had the
Chancellor’s counsels prevailed.
Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley had remained in the Tower, where at first
they had enjoyed considerable freedom, till March 1554. Ridley dined
frequently at the Lieutenant’s table, and he and Cranmer were allowed
the liberty of the Queen’s garden, Latimer being kept more straitly.
But after Wyatt’s rebellion, the Tower being crowded with prisoners,
the three bishops were put together in one room, and to them was added
Ridley’s chaplain, John Bradford. In the spring of 1554, they were sent
to Oxford, to take part in a theological discussion on the Mass.
Ridley, the most learned of the three, was born in 1500 and was
consequently fifty-four years old at the time of the disputation.
He had adopted the principles of the German reformers in 1536, and
renounced his belief in transubstantiation in the year of Henry’s
death, after which he laboured strenuously to defend and spread the
new doctrines. Cranmer acknowledged him his superior in controversy,
and during the disputation it was said of the three bishops: “Latimer
leaneth to Cranmer, Cranmer leaneth to Ridley and Ridley to the
singularity of his own wit”. Nevertheless in arguing, he always
referred to Cranmer’s book.
Latimer joined to the Puritan sympathies of Hooper the weakness of
character which signalised Cranmer. He had been so deeply imbued with
the spirit of the German divines as to lose Henry’s favour, but as
he ardently advocated the King’s first divorce, Anne Boleyn procured
him a bishopric. He was however regarded with some suspicion, and
was twice convented before Convocation, and required to subscribe
to certain articles presented to him for his acceptance. He refused,
was pronounced contumacious and excommunicated, until he retracted,
and sued for forgiveness. He was ultimately pardoned, but relapsed
into Protestantism, and was only saved from prosecution by a timely
utterance in favour of the divorce, when he was made Bishop of
Worcester. In 1536 he was called on to examine some Anabaptists for
heresy, and saw no reason why they should not suffer the rigour of the
law for their opinions. Later, he thus defended their execution: “This
is a deceivable argument,” said Latimer “he went to his death boldly:
ergo he standeth in a just quarrel. The Anabaptists that were burnt
here in divers towns in England (as I heard of credible men, I saw
them not myself) went to their death even intrepid, as ye will say,
without any fear in the world, cheerfully. Well, let them go. There was
in the old doctor’s time another kind of poisoned heretics that were
called Donatists, and these heretics went to their execution as though
they should have gone to some jolly recreation or banquet, to some
belly-cheer or to a play.”[550]
But in spite of these words, Latimer was soon afterwards as busy
as any Anabaptist in destroying images, and during the reaction of
Henry’s orthodoxy, in the matter of the _Six Articles_, was in some
danger. Cromwell forced him to resign his see,[551] and he was kept
in a sort of honourable confinement by the Bishop of Chichester. On
his release, he was forbidden to preach, to go to either university
or to return to his diocese. He found himself in the Tower, in 1546,
for his openly professed disbelief in Purgatory, but was liberated
on Edward’s accession, and licensed as a preacher. Latimer threw in
his lot boldly with Somerset’s Protectorate, and when Admiral Seymour
was executed, and the people murmured, he justified his death from
the pulpit, and told them that the Admiral had gone to everlasting
damnation. The passages in his sermon in which this sentiment was
expressed were afterwards eliminated as too scandalous for Latimer’s
credit as a divine. His eloquence was so overwhelming, that its effect
was generally to excite the people on whatever subject he preached, and
an entry in the churchwardens’ accounts of St. Margaret’s, Westminster,
records the fact that the sum of one shilling and sixpence was paid
some time in 1549, “for mending of divers pews that were broken when
Dr. Latimer did preach”.[552] When in 1550, a fresh commission was
appointed to eradicate heresy, and to enforce the new _Book of Common
Prayer_, Latimer was one of the thirty-two commissioners. On Mary’s
accession, the Council, for some reason unknown, declared his behaviour
seditious, and sent him a close prisoner to the Tower, denying him the
liberty accorded to Cranmer and Ridley. The latter, however, contrived
to communicate with him, and the two together wrote a defence of their
opinions, through the intermediary of Latimer’s servant, who was
allowed to attend him. After the Oxford disputation in October 1555,
Cardinal Pole wrote to Philip, telling him that he had received letters
from the King’s confessor, Friar Soto, who had been sent to persuade
the prisoners to recant, and that Soto had given him an account of what
he had done “with those two heretics, Ridley and Latimer after their
condemnation”. One of them would not even speak to him, and although
the other spoke, “it profited nothing, it being easily intelligible
than no one can save those whom God has rejected, and thus according
to report, the sentence was executed, the people looking on not
unwillingly, as it was known that nothing had been neglected with
regard to their salvation”.[553]
Giovanni Michiel also informed his Government that the execution of the
sentences “against the heretics, the late Bishop of London, Ridley,
and Latimer, Bishop of Worcester had been decided on, there being no
hope or visible sign of their choosing to recant”.[554] Gardiner had
nothing to do with the conviction of the two bishops, beyond the
fact that, as Chancellor, he was at the head of the civil power which
passed sentence upon them. He is known to have been personally averse
from the persecution, and, as we have already seen, he substantially
helped some of the suspects to leave the country before proceedings
could be taken against them. None the less, however, Foxe goes out
of his way to attribute to him the most horrible and inhuman desire
for, and satisfaction at, their death. The apparent object of the
martyrologist was to draw his favourite inference in regard to the
temporal judgment of God on miscreants. He says, admitting that he
obtained his information at _third_ hand: “The same day, when Bishop
Ridley and master Latimer suffered at Oxford (being about the 19th day
of October) there came into the house of Stephen Gardiner the old duke
of Norfolk, with the foresaid Master Munday his secretary above named
reporter hereof. The old aged duke, there waiting and tarrying for his
dinner, the bishop being not yet disposed to dine, deferred the time
to three or four o’clock at afternoon. At length, about four of the
clock cometh his servant, posting in all possible speed from Oxford,
bringing intelligence to the bishop, what he had heard and seen: of
whom the said bishop, diligently inquiring the truth of the matter, and
hearing by his man, that fire most certainly was set unto them, cometh
out rejoicing to the duke. ‘Now,’ saith he, ‘let us go to dinner’.
Whereupon they being set down, meat immediately was brought, and the
bishop began merrily to eat. But what followed? The bloody tyrant had
not eaten a few bits, but the sudden stroke of God’s terrible hand
fell upon him in such sort as immediately he was taken from the table,
and so brought to his bed, where he continued the space of fifteen
days in such intolerable anguish and torments ... whereby his body
being miserably inflamed within (who had inflamed so many good martyrs
before) was brought to a wretched end.”[555]
The first thing to be observed in this story is the notable fact,
that “the old duke of Norfolk” could not by any possibility have dined
with Gardiner on the 19th October 1555, having been in his grave since
August 1553. As for “the sudden stroke of God’s terrible hand,” by
which the Bishop was brought to a wretched end, he had been suffering
for some time from dropsy,[556] and died of it, not in his own house,
but at Whitehall, to which place he had been removed, after making
an heroic effort to appear at the opening of Parliament on the 21st
October. It was an act of devotion to the Queen and the country; the
long speech which he then delivered on the state of the royal finances,
resulting in a subsidy which removed the most pressing difficulties of
the Crown. But his strength was exhausted by the strain; he was too
weak to be taken home, and was therefore accommodated in Whitehall
Palace, till his death on the 12th November. He desired during his
last hours, that the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ might be read to
him, and when the reader came to the contrition of St. Peter, Gardiner
exclaimed: “Negavi cum Petro, exivi cum Petro, sed nondum flevi cum
Petro,” alluding to his fall in Henry’s reign.[557]
Cranmer’s execution was delayed for more than five months after the
execution of Ridley and Latimer, in the hope of his recanting. In the
same letter, in which he communicated to Philip the fact of the burning
of the two bishops, Cardinal Pole said:—
“The late Archbishop of Canterbury whose sentence of condemnation is
now expected from Rome, does not show himself so obstinate, and desires
a conference with me. If he can be brought to repent, the Church will
derive no little profit from the salvation of a single soul; but they
are awaiting what may be expected, from the next letters of Father
Soto, and will certify it to your Majesty.”
From his prison in Bocardo, Cranmer had seen his two companions led
to the stake, and the sight had awakened that natural timidity which
underlay and prompted his least praiseworthy actions. It has been said
of him that in his youth, he was cowed and crushed by a tyrannical
master, and so deprived of all manliness of character.[558] He had a
legal rather than a broad or elevated mind, and this was of service to
him in keeping clear of the pitfalls, into which so many of his friends
fell, at least temporarily. It had also enabled him to avail himself of
the tide, which taken at the flood led on to fame and fortune. He went
to Cambridge at the age of fourteen, but although he remained there
for many years, his name does not once appear among the learned or
distinguished men of the University. Erasmus, who knew every one with
any claim to notice, lived in the same street with him, but makes no
mention of him in his letters.
Cranmer took his degree of B.A. at the age of twenty-two, and proceeded
M.A. three years later. The fact of his marriage, by which he forfeited
the fellowship of his college (Jesus), implies that he had then no
intention of taking orders; and he probably meant to adopt the law as a
profession.[559] His first wife was the daughter of an innkeeper, known
by the name of Black Joan. To support himself and her, he accepted a
readership at Buckingham Hall, afterwards Magdalene College, and lived
with his wife at the Dolphin, her father’s inn. But Black Joan died
in childbirth, and Cranmer was then reinstated in his fellowship. He
proceeded D.D., and was ordained in 1523, at the age of thirty-four.
Either Gardiner, or Fox, Bishop of Hereford, first brought him to the
King’s notice, by quoting a shrewd remark which Cranmer had made, on
the subject of Henry’s “private matter”.
“Who is this Dr. Cranmer?” asked the King. “Where is he? Is he still at
Waltham? I will speak to him; let him be sent for out of hand. This man
I trow has got the right sow by the ear.”[560]
The interview proved satisfactory, and Henry charged Cranmer to draw up
a statement of his view of the King’s marriage. In order to be able to
confer often with him, he lodged him in the household of the Earl of
Wiltshire, Anne Boleyn’s father, at Durham Place. A royal chaplaincy
was conferred on him, besides the emoluments of the Archdeaconry
of Taunton. He visited Rome with Lord Wiltshire, and the Pope,
unsuspicious of what was being plotted, made him Grand Penitentiary for
England. He then went to Germany, on private business of his own, and
there married Osiander’s[561] niece. At this juncture Warham died, and
Henry, who saw that Cranmer was “an admirable tool, so timid that he
could ever be terrorised into submission, so tender with himself that
the King’s policy admirably fitted in with his sensuality,” advanced
him over the heads of better men, and made him Primate of all England.
Probably the dignity was unsolicited, possibly undesired, and perhaps
it was even thrust upon him with unwillingness on his part. If he had
aspired to it, he would scarcely, as things then were, have married a
second time, nor would he have delayed his return to England, after the
death of Archbishop Warham. Ambition had no inordinate share in his
character. But he had signified to the King, that sentence as to the
validity of his marriage should be given, not by the Pope, but by the
Archbishop of Canterbury, and it was to this opinion that his sudden
promotion was due.[562] The bulls from Rome were to be obtained at the
cost of any duplicity, and they were in Henry’s hands before the Pope
had any inkling of what was intended.
The appointment was unpopular in England. Cranmer was still
comparatively unknown, and had as yet done nothing to justify the
extraordinary rise in his fortunes. Public opinion had designated
Gardiner as Warham’s successor, and under normal conditions, he would
probably have been chosen. But lately, he had shown himself less
pliable than suited Henry’s convenience, and the King knew that he
could count absolutely on Cranmer, who was accordingly consecrated on
the 30th March, which that year fell on Passion Sunday. Immediately
before the ceremony, the new Archbishop called four witnesses, and in
their presence declared before a notary, that he did not intend to bind
himself, by the oath of obedience to the Pope which he was about to
take, to do anything that should appear to him contrary to the law of
God, the King’s prerogative or the statutes of the realm. When he knelt
to take this oath, he repeated his protest, and immediately afterwards
swore obedience to the Pope in the usual form. Just before receiving
the pallium, he made his third protest, and again took the oath of
obedience.[563]
Immediately after pledging himself to obey the Pope, he took the
following oath to the King for his temporalities: “I Thomas Cranmer
renounce and utterly forsake all such claims, words, sentences and
grants which I have of the Pope’s Holiness in his Bulls of the
Archbishopric of Canterbury, that in any manner, wise, is or may be
hurtful or prejudicial to your Highness, your heirs, successors,
estate or dignity royal, _knowledging myself to take and hold the
said Archbishopric immediately and only of your Highness and of none
other_,” etc.[564]
Cranmer had been made Archbishop, solely that he might advance “the
King’s matter” which had little chance of being settled at Rome
according to the royal pleasure. Therefore on the 3rd May, he rendered
his first service to Henry by pronouncing a sentence, declaring that
his marriage with Katharine of Arragon was invalid. On the 28th, he
further declared Henry’s union with Anne Boleyn good and valid,[565]
and to stop men’s tongues, prohibited all preaching throughout his
diocese till further notice, a measure that was significant of public
opinion.
In May 1536, the man whom Anne had virtually made Archbishop, and who
had made her Queen, at Henry’s command, declared and decreed that “the
marriage between our sovereign lord the King and the lady Anne had
always been without effect”. In January 1540, he married Anne of Cleves
to the King, and six months later, pronounced her sentence of divorce.
In 1541, he favoured Henry with yet another decree _nisi_, to relieve
him of his fifth wife, Katharine Howard. He examined Friar Forest
on his refusal to acknowledge the King as supreme Head, and handed
him over to his executioners. But the visit of the German Lutherans,
to negotiate the terms of union between the Church of England and
the reformed Churches of the Continent, marked a crisis in his life,
and the seeds of Protestantism were sown which were to bear abundant
fruit in the next reign.[566] Nevertheless, he still maintained the
Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, and condemned John Lambert
and Anne Askew to the flames for maintaining the contrary, while later
on, he sentenced Joan Bocher to death for holding that Christ was not
incarnate of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He also handed over several
Anabaptists to the secular arm, to be burned at Smithfield.
On Henry’s promulgation of the _Six Articles of Religion_, one of
which forbade the marriage of priests, Cranmer was obliged to dismiss
his wife. For some time past, it had cost him no little trouble and
inconvenience to conceal her presence at Lambeth, where she lived in
more than oriental seclusion. When he travelled, he was obliged to
carry her from place to place in a chest, with holes contrived to allow
of her breathing. On one lamentable occasion the chest was placed the
wrong side uppermost, which so incommoded her that she was forced to
betray her presence by screaming.[567]
Cranmer was never popular with his clergy. “Of all sorts of men,” he
complained, “I am daily informed that priests report the worst of me.”
Conspiracies were even set on foot against him, but he was too useful
to Henry to fear a fall, and was the one man in the realm to whom
the King was ever faithful. To all complaints against the Archbishop
Henry turned a deaf ear. “I would you should well understand,” said
he, “that I account my lord of Canterbury as faithful a man towards
me as ever was prelate in this realm, and one to whom I am many ways
beholden.” The praise was certainly not exaggerated. Even in matters
of purely theological moment, Cranmer was never at variance with his
master, for he held no opinion or doctrine that was not at Henry’s
service. Incredible as it seems, Cranmer once said to him: “This is
mine opinion and sentence at this present, which nevertheless I do
not temerariously define, but refer the judgment thereof wholly unto
your Majesty”.[568] Speaking in Cranmer’s defence, the Archbishop’s
secretary Morice unconsciously deprived him of every vestige of
fidelity to principle. “Men ought to consider,” he pleaded, “with whom
he had to do, specially with such a prince as would not be bridled, nor
be against-said in any of his requests.”[569]
In deference to the wishes of the Council, he made several alterations
in the oath administered to the King at Edward’s coronation, but he
said the prescribed Mass of the Holy Ghost, and also sang a Requiem for
the repose of Henry’s soul. Nevertheless, the whole tendency of the
new Government was in sympathy with his private feelings, and it was
not long before he made up his mind to swim with the tide. He headed a
commission which deprived Bonner and Gardiner, and held a visitation
of his diocese, to ascertain whether the destruction of images had
been fully carried out. A bill having been passed in Parliament, “to
take away all positive laws made against the marriage of priests,”
Cranmer sent for his wife, invested in Abbey lands the money granted
to him by Henry and confirmed by Edward’s Council, invited Peter
Martyr, Martin Bucer and other Calvinists to settle in England, and did
all he could to promote union between the Church of England, and the
reformed Churches of the Continent. He renounced the Mass, advocated
the overthrow of the altars and declared transubstantiation to be
heresy. The _Book of Common Prayer_ which he had compiled and put forth
in 1551, under the auspices of the Government, having been criticised
by the foreign Protestants, he set about its revision, aided by the
Bishop of Ely. The so-called Black Rubric, which forbade the practice
of kneeling at the Communion, was introduced a little later. Towards
the close of 1552, the forty-two articles, afterwards reduced to
thirty-nine, were published by the King’s command.
Cranmer was instrumental in Seymour’s execution, and by his treachery
was partly responsible for Somerset’s fall. His abject submission
to the upstart lords of the Council of Regency led to an act of
high treason, by inducing him to sign Edward’s will drawn up by
Northumberland.[570] Had Mary really possessed the vindictive feelings
attributed to her, she had ample pretext for ordering his apprehension,
thus avenging her own and her mother’s cause. But it was not until
some time after the rebellion, when Cranmer had signalised himself by
an act of open and aggressive opposition to her measures, that his
liberty was threatened. Even then, opportunity was given him to escape
if he had so willed. On his committal to the Tower, he was charged with
having caused the Lady Jane to be proclaimed, and for sending twenty
armed men to Cambridge to aid Northumberland. He pleaded not guilty,
but afterwards withdrew the plea, and confessed to the indictment. He
was then sentenced for treason, and would have been executed at Tyburn,
but was saved by Mary’s clemency. Being sent to Oxford with Latimer and
Ridley, to dispute with the most learned scholars in both universities,
he appeared at St. Mary’s before the prolocutor, Dr. Weston, and
thirty-three commissioners, and was presented with three articles
setting forth the doctrine of the Mass, drawn up by Convocation. All
three bishops refused to subscribe to them, and a disputation was
appointed for the following Monday.
The day’s proceedings had been opened by a sermon from Dr. Weston on
the unity of the Church, which he accused Cranmer of having violated
by making, as it were, every year a new faith. The Queen, he said in
conclusion, had commissioned the doctors assembled, on his repentance,
to restore him to the unity of the Church.
On the day appointed for the disputation, Dr. Chedsey, Prebendary of
St. Paul’s, afterwards a Canon of Christ Church, Oxford, was Cranmer’s
principal opponent, and kept up the discussion for nearly six hours,
at the end of which time the assembly dispersed crying, _Vicit
Veritas!_ Cranmer wrote an account of what had passed, and complained
to the Council that he had been unfairly treated in argument. He
begged them to obtain for him the Queen’s pardon. Thereupon he was
allowed to reopen the subject with John Harpsfield, a divinity student,
and Dr. Weston,[571] but in the end, it was declared that neither
Cranmer nor the other two bishops had successfully maintained their
_theses_, and they were all sent back to Bocardo. Here they remained
for eighteen months, continually pressed to recant. It was then
decided that they should have a formal trial for heresy, and Cardinal
Pole, as Papal Legate, was appointed to conduct it. The proceedings
with regard to Cranmer, as Primate of all England, were different
from those observed with the Bishops of London and Worcester. He was
cited to appear at Rome, to answer the charges made against him, but
this was a mere matter of form, as he was a prisoner, and the Pope
commissioned Cardinal Dupuy, who delegated his functions to the Bishop
of Gloucester, to represent his Holiness.[572] But Cranmer refused to
recognise the Pope’s authority, declaring that he had sworn never again
to consent to papal jurisdiction. On being reminded that he had also
sworn obedience to Rome, he sheltered himself behind the protest which
he had made before doing so. Sixteen charges in all were formulated
against him, supported by eight witnesses. He admitted the facts, but
not their interpretation, and objected to the witnesses as having also
formerly abjured the Pope. A report of the trial having been sent to
Rome, Cranmer wrote to the Queen, complaining that his “own natural
sovereign” had cited him before a foreign tribunal. Judgment was at
last pronounced against him for heresy in the papal courts, and he was
accordingly deprived, but the sentence of degradation was not carried
out for five months, during which time no efforts were spared to save
him. A papal commission was then issued to Bonner, Bishop of London,
and Thirlby, Bishop of Ely, for his degradation. The scene was a
painful one, and Dr. Thirlby is said to have been moved to tears during
the ceremony. The day fixed for it was the 14th February 1556. Cranmer
was brought before the two bishops at Christ Church, and the function
took place outside the church, in the great quadrangle. He was clothed
successively in vestments proper to a sub-deacon, a deacon, a priest, a
bishop and an archbishop, one over the other, but all made of canvas,
with a mitre and pallium of the same material.
Lastly, a crosier was put into his hand, and Bonner standing before
him, declared the cause of his degradation, Cranmer interrupting him
at intervals with protests and retorts. When the ceremony of unvesting
began, he refused to yield up the crosier, which was then wrested from
him by force, and when the pallium was to be removed, he exclaimed,
“Which of you, having a pallium is able to divest me of mine!” They
replied, that they held their commission from the Pope. He then drew
out of his sleeve a formal protest, appealing from the Pope to a
General Council, and handed the document to Thirlby, who took it,
saying, “Well, if it may be admitted it shall,” and bursting into
tears, he promised to petition the Queen for a pardon. When Cranmer
had been stripped of all the vestments, with appropriate words and
ceremonies at each of them, he was degraded from his minor orders,
after which his hair was closely cut, and Bonner proceeded to scrape
his hands, at the places where he had been anointed priest. His gown
was then taken off, and that of a yeoman substituted, in which he
returned to prison. This was the regular form of degrading a bishop.
Thirlby was as good as his word. Cranmer had drawn up two separate
forms of submission before his degradation, and in consequence of
these, a pardon such as had been granted to other recanters, was
contemplated by the Council. But it was finally decided that the
enormity of his offences required that he should suffer “for ensample
sake”. During the six weeks which intervened before his execution, he
made repeated recantations “without fear, and without hope of favour”
as he himself said, “for the discharge of his conscience, and as a
warning to others,” abjuring his former errors, and “beseeching the
people, the Queen and the Pope, to pray for his wretched soul”.
He signed in all seven recantations, and it was expected that he would
read the last of them at his execution. But instead of doing so, at
the supreme moment, he repudiated them all, expressing repentance for
having written “contrary to the truth which I thought in my heart, and
writ for fear of death”.[573] Being bound to the stake, he is said
to have thrust his right hand into the flame exclaiming: “This hand
hath offended”.[574] From first to last, he had proved himself so base
a dissembler, that no confidence could possibly have been placed in
the sincerity of his recantations. That he had lied therein also, he
admitted by his final recantation of them all.
Cranmer suffered according to the notions of the day, on his own
principles, and for causes which he had himself judged sufficient for
death. He had not only sent men and women to the stake for the very
same opinions which he afterwards professed, and had burned Catholics
because they would not acknowledge the King’s supreme Headship, but had
also burned Protestants because their Protestantism differed from his
own. All things considered, it was wonderful that he did not receive
shorter shrift, and we do not find that his miserable end excited much
regret or pity among his contemporaries.[575]
It was part of Foxe’s method, in claiming for his martyrs the sympathy
of his readers, to cast as much odium as possible on their judges.
Thus, Bonner, Bishop of London, has been made to appear an extremely
violent persecutor, although after the publication of his articles in
1554, he was rather the reverse of zealous in enforcing the revived
statute. But whatever may be said for or against it, it was the law of
the land, and Bonner could no more help sitting on the Bench in his
own diocese to examine into the offences committed against it, than
could any other judge of any court over which he had jurisdiction. His
functions were purely judicial, and it does not anywhere appear that he
was guided by passion, or that he overstepped his prerogative. He had,
on the contrary, been somewhat negligent in the exercise of the duty
which the law imposed on him, and hence the reprimand which he received
in the following letter from the King and Queen in Council:—
“Right reverend Father in God, right trusty and well-beloved, we greet
you well. And whereas of late, we addressed our letters to the justices
of peace, within every of the counties of this our realm, whereby,
amongst other instructions given them for the good order and quiet
government of the country round about them, they are willed to have a
special regard unto such disordered persons as (forgetting their duty
towards God and us) do lean to any erroneous and heretical opinions,
refusing to show themselves conformable to the Catholic religion of
Christ’s Church; wherein, if they cannot by good admonitions and fair
means reform them, they are willed to deliver them to the ordinary,
to be by him charitably travailed withal, and removed (if it may be)
from their naughty opinions; or else if they continue obstinate, to be
ordered according to the laws provided in that behalf: understanding
now, to our no little marvel, that divers of the said disordered
persons, being by the justices of peace for their contempt and
obstinacy, brought to the ordinaries to be used as is aforesaid, are
either refused to be received at their hands, or if they be received,
are neither so travailed with, as christian charity requireth, nor yet
proceeded withal, according to the order of justice, but are suffered
to continue in their errors, to the dishonour of Almighty God, and
dangerous example of others; like as we find this matter very strange,
so we have thought convenient both to signify this our knowledge, and
therewith also to admonish you to have in this behalf such regard
henceforth to the office of a good pastor and bishop, as when any such
offenders shall be by the said officers or justices of peace brought
unto you, you, to use your good wisdom and discretion, in procuring to
remove them from their errors, if it may be; or else in proceeding
against them (if they shall continue obstinate) according to the order
of the laws; so as through your good furtherance, both God’s glory may
be better advanced, and the Commonwealth more quietly governed. Given
under our signet, at our honour of Hampton Court, the 24th May, the
first and second years of our reigns.”[576]
It will be admitted that the above document does not correspond in any
sense to the “rattling letters” by which popular historians suppose
Mary to have stimulated the zeal of her “bloody executioners”. Its
tone is calm, judicial, charitable and even wise, if we consider the
stand-point from which the great majority then regarded any divergence
from authorised doctrine.
Foxe would have us believe that Bonner entertained a furious, personal
grudge against those who were brought to be examined, and the pages
of the _Acts and Monuments_ teem with such picturesque allusions to
him as “bloody wolf,” “the bishop being in a raging heat, as one clean
void of humanity,” “he was in a marvellous rage,” “in a great fury,”
etc.; but when we divest the stories of these adornments, there is
little or nothing to support the epithets. As a learned writer has
aptly remarked, this kind of description reminds us of the mountain
being in labour, and bringing forth—a mouse.[577] For when we examine
what Bonner, even according to Foxe, really did say, on the occasion
of his appearing before the Commissioners of the Council in 1549 when
he was supposed to be in such a “raging heat,” that he appeared “as
one clean void of humanity,” we find that turning himself about to the
people he said: “Well, now, hear what the Bishop of London saith for
his part”. But the Commissioners “seeing his inordinate contumacy,
denied him to speak any more, saying that he had used himself very
disobediently”.[578] Equally unjustified by the context are most of
the other vituperative epithets, by which the martyrologist sought to
prejudice Bonner in the minds of his credulous and uncritical readers.
The truth is, that when brought before the bishops, the would-be
martyrs, by Foxe’s own showing, frequently twitted their judges, gave
them home thrusts and “privy nips,” and behaved themselves generally in
a very insolent, provocative and irritating manner. In spite of this
however, the judges seldom lost their tempers, and bore with these
things in a singularly good-humoured spirit, doing their best to give
the accused a chance of escape. Of the six who came under Bonner’s
examination on the 8th February 1555, Foxe affirms that the bishop
sentenced them the next day after they were charged, and killed them
out of hand without mercy, “such quick speed these men could make in
despatching their business at once”—a terrible indictment if it could
be proved. But Bonner not only knew about the accused, long before the
8th February, three of them having been for months in prison, where
he had again and again reasoned with them; but after sentence was
passed, an interval of five weeks was the shortest respite granted for
reflection, before any one of them was executed. The others we find
suffered consecutively on the 26th, 28th and 29th March, and on the
10th June.
With as little accuracy did Foxe pen the following remarkable distich,
which however served his purpose of vilifying Bonner.
This cannibal in three years space three hundred martyrs slew,
They were his food, he loved so blood, he sparèd none he knew.[579]
Of the 200 persons who were burned for spreading opinions considered
subversive of public order, in the reign of Mary, about 120 came
under Bonner’s jurisdiction, so that Foxe’s assertion that the Bishop
of London “slew” 300 must be discounted by more than half, leaving
a sufficiently heavy record. But his supposed thirst for blood has
no foundation in fact, for we have many instances of his labouring
not unsuccessfully in causing many to recant, upon which they were
restored to liberty. Instances of Foxe’s perversion of truth might be
multiplied, but enough has been said, to prove his untrustworthiness
wherever his prejudices are involved. An appreciation of Bonner’s
character from the pen of the late Dr. S. R. Maitland will fitly close
this chapter.
“In plainer terms, setting aside _declamation_, and looking at the
_details of facts_ left by those who may be called if people please,
Bonner’s victims and their friends, we find very consistently
maintained, the character of a man, straightforward and hearty,
familiar and humorous, sometimes rough, perhaps coarse, naturally
hot-tempered, but obviously (by the testimony of his enemies)
placable and easily entreated, capable of bearing most patiently,
much intemperate and insolent language, much reviling and low abuse
directed against himself personally, against his order, and against
those peculiar doctrines and practices of his church, for maintaining
which, he had himself suffered the loss of all things, and borne long
imprisonment. At the same time, not incapable of being provoked into
saying harsh and passionate things, but much more frequently meaning
nothing by the threatenings and slaughter which he breathed out, than
to intimidate those on whose ignorance and simplicity argument seemed
to be thrown away—in short we can scarcely read with attention any one
of the cases detailed by those who were no friends of Bonner, without
seeing in him a judge who (even if we grant that he was dispensing bad
laws badly) was obviously desirous to save the prisoner’s life.”[580]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 507: De Noailles told the Cardinal of Lorraine that the Queen
of England caused incessant prayers and processions to be made for
obtaining peace; and he declared that he believed her to be sincere,
though he attributed less good intentions to the Emperor (_Ambassades_,
iv., p. 336). One of Cardinal Pole’s letters in St. Mark’s Library at
Venice, dated 20th April 1555, says that “last evening the Queen sent
for him [de Noailles] to show him the despatch she was writing to her
ambassador in France, charging him to tell the French King how much she
rejoiced at his being so well disposed towards the peace, and that she
also had performed every good office in favour of it with the Emperor”.
A peace conference was about to take place at Ardres, to which Mary had
pledged herself to send six commissioners.]
[Footnote 508: _Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria_, p. 64 _et seq._]
[Footnote 509: But it was not only to the poor that Mary showed
kindness and a tender charity. All sorts and conditions of men
experienced her help in the hour of need, one instance of which
appeared in an article on Harrow School, in the _Quarterly Review_ for
January 1899. This instance was taken from a letter belonging to the
Roper family, in which it is recorded, that after the death of one of
the family, who had been keeper of Enfield Chase and Marylebone Forest,
“Queen Mary came into our house within a little of my father’s death,
and found my mother weeping, and took her by the hand, and lifted her
up—for she neeled—and bade her be of good cheer, for her children
should be well provided for. Afterward my brother Richard and I, being
the two eldest, were sent to Harrow to school, and were there till we
were almost men.”]
[Footnote 510: _Venetian Calendar_, vol. vi., pt. i., 80, partly in
cipher; deciphered by Signor Luigi Pasini.]
[Footnote 511: Strype, _Memorials of Cranmer_, vol. i., p. 499.
_Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. iii., pt. i., p. 417.]
[Footnote 512: Stow, p. 624.]
[Footnote 513: See Machyn’s _Diary_, p. 84. Wriothesley (vol. ii.,
p. 128) gives the sequel to the outrage. “The xx day of April in the
forenoon, in the consistory of Paul’s was arraigned the said Wm. Branch
_alias_ Flower, who struck the priest on Easter Day in the parish
church of St. Margaret in Westminster. And being condemned of heresy,
he was delivered to the sheriffs of London and Middlesex. This Flower
was once a monk in Ely Abbey, professed at his age of 17 years, and
after made priest, and then married and had three or four children; and
then ran about the country using the art of surgery. The 24 of April,
the said Wm. Flower, for his said fact, had his right hand smitten off,
and for opinions in matters of religion was burned in the sanctuary
nigh to St. Margaret’s churchyard.” Flower is included by Foxe among
the martyrs.]
[Footnote 514: Stow, p. 624.]
[Footnote 515: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. v., p. 30, new series.]
[Footnote 516: In a letter from Calvin to the Duke of Somerset in
1548, the Reformer says: “As I understand you have two kinds of
mutineers against the King and the estates of the realm; the one are
a fantastical people who under colour of the Gospels would set all to
confusion; the others are stubborn people in the superstition of the
Antichrist of Rome. These altogether do deserve to be well punished
by a sword, seeing they do conspire against the King and against God
who had set him in the royal seat. Of all things let there be _no
moderation_. It is the bane of genuine improvement” (MSS. Edward VI.,
vol. v.).]
[Footnote 517: _Knox’s Works_, vol. iv., pp. 500-15, Laing’s edition.]
[Footnote 518: Wilkins, _Concilia_, iv., 44.]
[Footnote 519: Lingard, vol. v., p. 463.]
[Footnote 520: Froude, _History of England_, vol. x., p. 360.]
[Footnote 521: _History of the Rise and Influence of Rationalism in
Europe_, vol. i., p. 45.]
[Footnote 522: Dodd, vol. iii., p. 400.]
[Footnote 523: Franciscan Chapter Register, p. 364.]
[Footnote 524: As late as the reign of Charles II, boiling alive was
the penalty inflicted for clipping the King’s coin.]
[Footnote 525: _Summa Theologica_, S. Thomæ, Pars 2^a, 2^a, 2^æ, Q. I.,
Art. 3.]
[Footnote 526: Cap. 9.]
[Footnote 527: Wilkins, _Concilia_, iii., 739.]
[Footnote 528: F. W. Maitland, _Roman Canon Law in the Church of
England_, p. 166.]
[Footnote 529: _Apology_, ch. xlix.; _English Works_, p. 925.]
[Footnote 530: Collier, vol. vi., p. 86, edition 1852. MS. St. Mark’s
Library, Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., p. 208. For a translation of the whole
document, which differs slightly from the version of the English
fragment, see Appendix F., also three articles in the _British
Magazine_, 1839-40.]
[Footnote 531: Reeves’ _History of the English Law_, edited by F. W.
Finlason, vol. iii., p. 514 note.]
[Footnote 532: Reeves’ _History of the English Law_, edited by F. W.
Finlason, vol. iii., p. 560 note.]
[Footnote 533: Strype, _Life of Archbishop Grindal_, p. 25.]
[Footnote 534: _Dictionary of National Biography_, art. “John Foxe,
Martyrologist”.]
[Footnote 535: Part iii., p. 412.]
[Footnote 536: Quoted in Fuller’s _Worthies_, under Barkshire, p. 92.]
[Footnote 537: Anthony à Wood, _Athenæ Oxoniensis_, vol. i., p. 691 _et
seq._]
[Footnote 538: _Dictionary of National Biography_, art. “John Foxe”.
At Cheddar, not many years ago, a great black-letter volume of the
_Book of Martyrs_ was chained to the reading-desk. In the _Life
of Lord Macaulay_ it is stated, that as a child the sight of this
book fascinated him, and that he sat in the family pew on a Sunday
afternoon, longing to get at its bewitching pages. Lutterworth, until
recently, possessed a chained copy of the book.]
[Footnote 539: _Dictionary of National Biography_, art. “William Laud”.]
[Footnote 540: Micronius, Superintendent of the Dutch Church to
Bullinger, _Orig. Letters_, p. 557.]
[Footnote 541: _Ibid._, p. 70.]
[Footnote 542: Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. ii., pt. i., p.
482.]
[Footnote 543: Hooper’s _Sermons on Jonah_.]
[Footnote 544: Council Book of Edward VI., 27th Jan. 1552.]
[Footnote 545: Hooper’s _Later Writings_, p. 132, Parker Society.]
[Footnote 546: _Ibid._, p. 150.]
[Footnote 547: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. iv., p. 337.]
[Footnote 548: _Ep._, p. 51, Oxford ed., 1703.]
[Footnote 549: Grenville MS. 11,990. _Letters and Papers_, vi., 600.]
[Footnote 550: _Latimer’s Works_, vol. i., p. 160, Parker Society.]
[Footnote 551: Foxe says that he resigned of his own accord, but
Latimer himself declared the contrary.]
[Footnote 552: Nichols, _Illustrations of Antient Times_, p. 13.]
[Footnote 553: Venetian Archives, MS., St. Mark’s Library, Cod. xxiv.,
Cl. x., 26th (?) Oct. 1555.]
[Footnote 554: _Ibid._, 14th Oct. 1555, Michiel to the Doge and Senate.]
[Footnote 555: _Acts and Monuments_, vol. vii., p. 592. Burnet, who
copied this story from Foxe, omitted the obvious fable as to the Duke
of Norfolk’s presence.]
[Footnote 556: On the 16th September 1555, Giovanni Michiel wrote to
the Doge and Senate: “After the Chancellor’s return from the conference
at Calais, he fell into such a state of _oppilation_, that besides
having become (as the physicians say) jaundiced, he by degrees got
confirmed dropsy, and had it not been for his robust constitution, a
variety of remedies prescribed for him by his English physicians having
been of no use, he would by this time be in a bad way, his physiognomy
being so changed as to astound all who see him. The Emperor has sent
him the remedy he used when first troubled with dropsical symptoms, on
his return from the war of Metz, and should God grant that it take the
same effect on the Bishop of Winchester, it will be very advantageous
for England, he being considered one of the most consummate chancellors
who have filled the post for many years, and should he die, he would
leave few or none so well suited to the charge as himself” (_Venetian
Calendar_, vol. vi., pt. i., 215, Rawdon Brown).]
[Footnote 557: “The xiii day of November doctor Gardiner bishop of
Winchester and lord chancellor of England died in the morning, between
twelve and one of the clock at the king’s palace, the which is called
Whitehall, and by iij of the clock he was brought by water to his own
palace by Saint Mary Overy’s; and by v of the clock, his bowels was
taken out, and buried afore the high altar; and at 6 the knell began
there, and at dirge and Mass continued ringing all the bells, till vij
at night” (Machyn, p. 96).]
[Footnote 558: Dean Hook, _Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury_,
vol. vi., p. 427.]
[Footnote 559: _Ibid._, p. 430.]
[Footnote 560: Dean Hook, _Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury_,
vol. vi., p. 439. Cranmer was being entertained at the house of a Mr.
Cressey at Waltham. Henry was then at Waltham Abbey.]
[Footnote 561: Osiander was a disciple of Luther, with whom he
afterwards quarrelled.]
[Footnote 562: Hook, _Lives of the Archbishops_, vol. vi., pp. 458-61.]
[Footnote 563: This oath, which is to be found in the original Latin,
in Cranmer’s own Register, at Lambeth Palace, Strype claimed to have
copied _verbatim_ therefrom, and he refers his readers to a document
in the appendix to his _Memorials of Cranmer_. On turning however to
this reference, we find only a shortened and garbled version of that
which Cranmer wrote with his own hand. Strype evidently confused the
two oaths, the one which Cranmer took before his consecration, and
that which he pronounced on receiving the pallium, with the result
that neither is correctly given, Strype omitting a whole essential
paragraph. When the _Memorials_ were re-edited, in 1848, by the
Ecclesiastical History Society, which declared that they had been
verified as far as possible, and more correct references added,
wherever it appeared needful, the learned Dr. S. R. Maitland, Librarian
at Lambeth Palace, pointed out that no collation had been made between
the oath, as it stands in the first edition of Strype’s work, and the
original document. Canon Dixon, in treating of this matter, could not
have been aware of Strype’s blunder, or have seen Cranmer’s Register,
for he says; “When he took the oath or oaths of obedience to the Pope,
he made many omissions, and then with an easier conscience proceeded
to the oath to the King for his temporalities” (_History of the Church
of England_, vol. i., p. 158). The form which Cranmer in his Register
admits that he took on receiving the pallium is, with one or two slight
verbal exceptions, the very same as that which Burnet prints (book ii.,
ann. 1532) as “the old oath of canonical obedience to the Pope”. For
the text of Cranmer’s oath see Appendix E to this volume.]
[Footnote 564: Strype, _Memorials of Cranmer_, appendix.]
[Footnote 565: Gairdner, _Cal._, vi., 330. Grants in June 1533 (7).]
[Footnote 566: Hook, vol. vii., p. 30.]
[Footnote 567: Parsons, _The Three Conversions of England_, ii., ch.
vii., p. 371. The author adds: “This is a most certain story, and
testified at this day by Cranmer’s son’s widow yet living, to divers
gentlemen, her friends, from whom myself had it”.]
[Footnote 568: Jenkyns, ii., 103.]
[Footnote 569: MS., Coll. Corp. Chr., Cantab., 128, f. 405. Printed in
Nichol’s _Narrative of the Days of the Reformation_, p. 266.]
[Footnote 570: Cranmer’s name stands first on the list of conspirators,
though the Archbishop was apparently the last to sign, having held out
until it was no longer safe to do so.]
[Footnote 571: Strype, _Memorials of Cranmer_, vol. i., p. 484.]
[Footnote 572: _Ibid._, p. 527 _et seq._]
[Footnote 573: Strype, _Memorials of Cranmer_, vol. i., p. 557.]
[Footnote 574: _Ibid._, p. 558.]
[Footnote 575: For the opinions of two typical Englishmen on the
subject of these executions see Appendix G.]
[Footnote 576: Foxe, vol. vii., p. 86.]
[Footnote 577: S. R. Maitland, _Essays on Subjects Connected with the
Reformation_, p. 422.]
[Footnote 578: Vol. v., p. 765.]
[Footnote 579: Vol. viii., p. 482.]
[Footnote 580: _Essays on Subjects Connected with the Reformation_, p.
423, by S. R. Maitland, D.D., F.R.S., F.S.A., sometime Librarian to the
late Archbishop of Canterbury, and Keeper of the MSS. at Lambeth.]
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FORSAKEN QUEEN.
Mary had gone into retirement at Hampton Court, in the spring of 1555,
and had refused to relinquish the cherished hope of maternity, till
long after her physicians had pronounced that hope vain. But at last in
August, she yielded to entreaties, and consented to remove to Oatlands,
ostensibly that the palace which the court had inhabited for so many
months might undergo a thorough cleansing, the rushes be changed and
the floors washed.
The despatches of the Venetian ambassador, Giovanni Michiel, are
very important and interesting, as regards the history of the next
two years. As he was neither a passionately devoted friend of the
Queen, like Renard, nor a malicious foe, such as de Noailles, his
correspondence has a special value. Writing in his direct manner to the
Doge and Senate, on the 3rd August, he says:—
“The fact is, that the move has been made in order no longer to keep
the people of England in suspense about this delivery, by the constant
and public processions which were made, and by the Queen’s remaining so
many days in retirement, seriously to the prejudice of her subjects; as
not only did she transact no business, but would scarcely allow herself
to be seen by any one but the ladies, who in expectation of this
childbirth, especially the gentlewomen and the chief female nobility,
had flocked to the court, from all parts of the kingdom, in such very
great numbers, all living at the cost of her Majesty, that with great
difficulty could Hampton Court, although one of the largest palaces
that can be seen here or elsewhere, contain them. At present, by this
change of residence, an opportunity is afforded for dispensing with the
processions, without any scandal, and for the Queen to free herself
from expense, by giving permission to the greater part of these ladies
to return to their homes, under pretence of very limited accommodation;
and by degrees her Majesty has resumed the audiences, and replaced
other matters in their former ancient state, the usual officials (I am
told) resuming their service about her person, and the females being
removed.” In the same despatch he says: “The reported insurrections in
the provinces, and which caused so much apprehension some days ago,
their origin having been subsequently ascertained authentically, were
found to be slight and unimportant, part having arisen from a great
concourse of men at a grand periodical fair held in Warwickshire, when
on account of the price of wheat, which had been raised extraordinarily
by certain persons, who having a great supply, wished to sell it in
their own fashion, by reason of the backward season, and the small
hope of the present harvest, the summer being so rainy and cold, that
the like is not remembered in the memory of man for the last fifty
years, so that no sort of grain or corn ripens, and still less can
it be reaped, a prognostic of scarcity yet greater than that of last
year; so that in part from this, owing to the murmurs and complaints
of the multitude, which were construed into rebellion, and partly from
a report circulated in Cornwall and Devonshire that the most Serene
Queen was dead, and that to deceive the people, as they said was done
in the time of King Edward, they exhibited her effigy at the casement
and not her real face; so having half rebelled, they said they would
come towards the court to ascertain the fact. These disturbances were
also caused in part by a gentleman, who being on bad terms with his
tenants, who had risen against him, and not knowing in what other way
to suppress the outbreak, sent word to the court, that they were in
arms against the Queen, and the falsehood being discovered, he together
with eight others, who originated the reports of the other unreal
insurrections, were deservedly imprisoned, everything, thank God,
remaining quiet and peaceable.”[581]
In the midst of her bitter grief and disappointments; fed with insults
by the London Puritans, with revolt and rumours of revolt at her
door, Mary had at least one abiding consolation in the love of the
poor and afflicted, who looked upon her as their true mother. Machyn,
in chronicling her removal,[582] says that on “the 3. day of August
the Queen and King’s grace removed from Hampton Court unto Oatlands,
a palace four miles off: as her grace went through the park for to
take her barge, there met her grace by the way, a poor man with two
crutches, and when that he saw her grace, for joy he threw his staffs
away and ran after her grace, and she commanded that one should give
him a reward”.
The court remained at Oatlands but just long enough to purify the
larger palace after its overcrowded and filthy condition, and on the
19th Michiel writes:—
“Last week, their Majesties returned to Hampton Court, the Lady
Elizabeth remaining at the seat to which she went; and now the Queen
shows herself, and converses with everybody as usual, her health
being so good, as perhaps never to have been better, to the universal
surprise of all who see her, but of delivery or pregnancy small signs
are visible externally, and no one talks or thinks of them any longer.
As to the King’s departure, he yesterday sent the Signor Carlo da
Sanguino, gentleman of the mouth, to Brussels (they say), to fix his
going, having already adroitly broached the topic to the Queen, who
will acquiesce; so it is said he will leave in eight or ten days,
postwise, leaving the greater part of his household, for the sake of
convincing the Queen by as many signs as he can, that he purposes
returning speedily; though on the contrary, it is said more than ever,
that he will go to Spain, and remove hence his household, and all the
others by degrees.”[583]
On the 27th, he wrote from London:—
“Their Majesties came hither from Hampton Court yesterday morning,
remaining merely to dine, and then went to Greenwich, where the Queen
will remain during the whole time of the King’s stay beyond sea. On
departing hence, his Majesty had determined, when passing through
London, to show himself in public to the people on horseback, leaving
the Queen to follow him at leisure, by water as usual, but her Majesty
chose to give the City the satisfaction of seeing her likewise in
his company, she having made the determination when in the very act
of embarking; so having herself carried in an open litter, she went
accompanied, not only by the English and Spanish nobility now at the
court, but also by the Cardinal Legate and the ambassadors, the Lord
Mayor and all the aldermen, having met her at Temple Bar, coming with
the royal insignia, and all the other solemnities, as customary when
the Queen appears in public. It is not to be told what a vast crowd of
people there was all along the road, which is a very long one, nor yet
the joy they demonstrated at seeing their Majesties, which was really
great, and the more as the London populace were firmly convinced that
the Queen was dead; so when they knew of her appearance, they all ran
from one place to another, as to an unexpected sight, and one which was
well-nigh new, as if they were crazy, to ascertain thoroughly if it
was she, and on recognising and seeing her in better plight than ever,
they by shouts and salutations, and every other demonstration then gave
yet greater signs of their joy, inasmuch as to their great comfort and
that of her Majesty, they saw her come with the King on one side of her
and Cardinal Pole on the other, both of whom are universally popular,
by reason of the reported kindness of their nature, and of which daily
proof is afforded by facts, so that the determination to make this
display, most especially at the present moment, has been very useful.
The King will leave Greenwich, as soon as he hears that the fleet with
which he is to cross, and which until yesterday was here in the Thames
to complete its outfit, shall be off Dover. It consists of twelve ships
and a galleon for his Majesty’s person, armed and provided in the best
fashion possible, and in addition to this force, they are expecting
some Flemish ships, to render the passage-track yet more secure, as
it is daily infested by Frenchmen, who without any scruple, attack
every vessel, in order to take out of them all property and subjects
belonging to the enemy....
“In the meanwhile, as may be imagined with regard to a person
extraordinarily in love, the Queen remains disconsolate, though she
conceals it as much as she can, and from what I hear, mourns the more
when alone, and supposing herself invisible to any of her attendants.
During this absence, Cardinal Pole will reside with her, lodgings
having been assigned to him in the palace, that he may comfort and keep
her company, her Majesty delighting greatly in the sight and presence
of him.”
In a despatch dated 3rd September he describes Philip’s departure:—
“Much to my pleasure, I accompanied Cardinal Pole and the other
noblemen, on the day when they went with the King to his barge, to see
him take leave of the Queen, who on that occasion really expressed very
well the sorrow becoming a wife, and a wife such as she is, invested
with the regal habit and dignity, for without displaying much extrinsic
disquietude, though evidently deeply grieved internally, she chose to
come with him through all the chambers and galleries to the head of the
stairs, constraining herself the whole way, to avoid in sight of such a
crowd, any demonstration unbecoming her gravity, though she could not
but be moved when the Spanish noblemen kissed her hand, and yet more,
when she saw the ladies in tears take leave of the King, who, according
to the custom of the country, kissed them one by one.
“On returning however to her apartments, placing herself at a window
which looks on the river, not supposing herself any longer seen or
observed by any one, it was perceived that she gave free vent to her
grief by a flood of tears, nor did she once quit the window, until she
had not only seen the King embark and depart, but remained looking
after him as long as he was in sight; and the King on his part, mounted
aloft on the barge in the open air, in order to be better seen when
the barge approached in sight of the window, and moreover waved his
bonnet from the distance to salute her, demonstrating great affection.
Now, whilst his Majesty is at Canterbury, not only every day but every
hour, expresses are on the road from the King to the Queen, and in like
manner from hence to his Majesty, the gentlemen in waiting being always
booted and spurred ready for a start. Shortly before he departed, the
King sent for Cardinal Pole, and all the Lords of the Council into
the chamber, and in very suitable language recommended the government
of the kingdom to them during his absence, alluding especially to
justice and religion, leaving a writing, in which, as I was told by the
Legate, were noted all such warnings, as he deemed most important and
necessary, with a detailed list of such persons as could be trusted
and employed for any necessary business or office, a matter which
although discussed previously, surprised every one by the judgment and
tact displayed in it by his Majesty, who then, thus in public, turning
towards Cardinal Pole, besought him very earnestly in his own name, and
that of the Queen, to assume this charge, in conformity with his own
patriotism and the wish of their Majesties, desiring all the others to
defer to him in everything. This same office had been performed by the
King with the Cardinal, the day before, they being alone together, his
Majesty for this purpose having gone very privately in person to the
Legate’s own apartment, taking him quite by surprise. Cardinal Pole
told me, that by so much the less did he think fit to combat the wish
of his Majesty, as he trusted and was indeed certain that the will
of their Majesties being in accordance with his natural obligation,
would also have the approval of his Holiness, from which by another
second obligation, both as a member of the apostolic see, and as the
Pope’s representative he could not depart. Henceforth, therefore to the
great comfort of their Majesties, and the whole kingdom, all public
and important business will be discussed and decided, according to
the opinion and advice of his right reverend Lordship, who, for the
avoidance of envy and molestation, will not interfere with private
and ordinary matters, leaving their despatch as before, to the other
members of the Council; and this will perhaps be the chief cause
besides the others for his remaining here.”[584]
Contrary winds detained Philip at Canterbury for five days. So ardently
did Mary desire, and affect to believe in his immediate return, that
she was very angry when she heard that to save expense, the fleet
which accompanied him to Calais, had on his landing been dismissed and
disarmed. She ordered it to be at once fitted out again to be ready
against his return, little imagining that nineteen months would elapse
before it was needed. But she soon saw that her intention to await him
at Greenwich would have to be abandoned, and she was obliged to depart
to London to open Parliament in person. Michiel writing to the Doge and
Senate on the 21st October, gives a graphic account of Gardiner’s last
great public act of devotion to the Queen’s service. He says:—
“The most serene Queen opened Parliament to-day, according to the
appointed term, coming from St. James’s, whither she retired on her
return from Greenwich, to sit, as in the last Parliament, on a lofty
and well-decorated throne, carried by two mules, in the guise of a
litter, accompanied in state, not only by all the lords, barons and
prelates of the kingdom, clad in the habit suited to this occasion,
but in addition to these personages, by the most illustrious Legate
likewise, the Queen having chosen him to attend it for this day,
although not entitled legitimately to a seat in Parliament. After the
Mass of the Holy Ghost, sung by the Bishop of Ely, and the sermon
preached by the Bishop of Lincoln, her Majesty proceeded into the
great hall, where in the presence of all those officially summoned,
the Lord Chancellor having rallied a little, choosing at any rate to
be there, in order not to fail performing his office on this occasion,
made the usual proposal, stating the cause for assembling Parliament,
which was, in short, solely for the purpose of obtaining pecuniary
supply. His right reverend Lordship laid before the House the great
need of the most Serene Queen, from having on her accession found the
revenues of the Crown so exhausted and consumed, that not only was
she unable to avail herself of them for the many and heavy expenses,
which he enumerated one by one, incurred by her compulsorily for the
honour of the realm, both before and after her marriage—with regard to
which he did not omit to say that King Philip, whilst in England had
spent much more than her Majesty,—but that having found considerable
debts left by her father and brother, she had been compelled to make
fresh ones for their acquittance, still remaining responsible for a
great part of the old ones. Her Majesty, in the meanwhile had not
chosen to avail herself, as she might have done, of the taxes and
subsidy conceded by Parliament, to her brother King Edward, amounting
to upwards of 1,200,000 ducats, but remitted that sum, for the sake of
not burdening any one. Neither did she choose, as she might and ought
to have done in justice, to avail herself of the revenues and estates
of many of her rebels, amounting to a very considerable sum, but to
demonstrate thoroughly her benignity and clemency, she made them a free
gift both of their lives and lands. Therefore, in the Queen’s name,
the Chancellor requested Parliament, in consideration of the present
public necessities, to devise means for their relief, saying moreover,
that at this commencement, her Majesty had not chosen to keep this her
proposal any longer in suspense, nor allow it to be made by others than
by herself, but proceeding openly, had willed to proclaim and announce
it immediately, anticipating such speedy supply as by reason of the
great affection of her subjects she felt sure she should witness. The
Chancellor added that if any member had anything else to suggest, to
the profit and advantage of the realm, and for the common weal, he was
not to omit doing so, in conformity with the obligation and duty of
everybody, nor to fail thus to act readily and willingly as becoming;
and his right reverend Lordship having spoken with much more energy
than by reason of his indisposition any one would have expected, the
business of this first day of the session ended.”[585]
The long speech completely exhausted the strength of the dying
Chancellor. The effort he had made left him so weak that, as we have
already seen, he was unable to return to his own house, and was taken
to Whitehall, where he breathed his last on the 12th November. But in
consequence of his representations, Parliament unanimously agreed to
give the Queen a million of gold, to be levied, in two years from the
laity, and in four from the clergy, “who contribute,” said Cardinal
Pole, “willingly to this subsidy, which free contribution is a very
ancient custom in England”.[586]
The death of Gardiner was perhaps the greatest misfortune that could
have happened to Mary at this time. He understood the temper of the
English nobility far better than Pole, who had been so long absent,
that in spite of the enthusiasm he inspired among the people, he
was not in touch with the new generation of statesmen and courtiers
whom he found in power. Nor had he the business qualities which had
enabled Gardiner to steer the Queen’s financial barque safely among the
troubled waters. Moreover, Gardiner, although of the old school, had
been generally able to lead and control, always to make his influence
felt in the Council, and whether he agreed with her views or not, he
was ever loyal to the Queen and upheld her against all opponents. Pole
was too entirely one with her; their interests were too identical to
constitute him an independent influence in the State. Had he been less
near to the throne, less a kinsman and personal friend of Mary’s,
more a statesman and less an ecclesiastic, he might more effectually
have replaced Gardiner in the Queen’s counsels. De Noailles with his
usual shrewdness, in announcing the Chancellor’s death to his master,
expressed the hope that it would greatly further their affairs in
England.[587]
It was, without doubt, a severe blow to the Catholic party. Some
members of the Council influenced by Paget, whose treachery and
falsehood are responsible for many of Mary’s troubles, inclined to
a secret understanding with Elizabeth. The Queen had had little
choice in the formation of her government, and although Paget had
distinguished himself as a Puritan under Edward, on his professing
himself a Catholic, she made him Lord Privy Seal, and gave him back the
Garter, which had been taken from him in 1552, for having as Chancellor
of the Duchy of Lancaster, made large profits at the expense of the
Crown.[588] Having established himself in Mary’s favour by furthering
her marriage, he entered into league with de Noailles, and with all
the Queen’s enemies, and his position at the Council board, especially
after Gardiner’s death, gave him almost unlimited power. The Lords
Arundel, Pembroke, Cobham, and Sir William Petre were all swayed by
him. He was the moving spirit of them all, and little business was
transacted without him. Mary told the Cardinal that she had no longer
perfect confidence in any member of her Council, Pole himself being in
the King’s absence her only support.[589]
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was careful to give no direct cause for
suspicion. She openly declared herself a Catholic, was often at court,
and shared the Queen’s public devotions. On the day of Philip’s
departure, “the Queen’s grace and my lady Elsabeth, and all the Court
did fast from flesh, and took the Pope’s Jubilee and pardon granted to
all men”.[590]
While Mary felt her husband’s absence so keenly that Sir Anthony
Strelley, writing to the Earl of Rutland, says he will speak to her
about a certain piece of business, “as soon as the Queen’s highness
hath passed over her sorrowfulness at the King’s departure into
Flanders,” Philip was on his part by no means anxious to hasten his
return. The Emperor welcomed him at Brussels with all the ceremony
and display of respect which Philip loved. They met at the Louvain
Gate, Charles having gone out to receive him. The King dismounted and
knelt to kiss his father’s hand, but the Emperor raised him up, and
doffing his bonnet prevented him, by continuing to hold it. Philip then
insisted on kissing his left arm, but his father embraced and kissed
him so lovingly “that tears came to his eyes”. They then mounted their
horses, and rode side by side, through respectful if not enthusiastic
crowds, to the imperial palace.
Philip’s conduct at Brussels, at this time, was not perfectly in
accordance with the reputation for gravity which he had acquired by
his haughty and reserved manners, and even the Emperor showed some
displeasure at his levity, in masquerading about the streets in such
troubled times, and was in serious doubt as to his son’s capacity to
bear the burden he was about to lay on his shoulders.
Mary having heard that he was suffering from a slight indisposition,
the result of too much dissipation, sent over one of her chamberlains
to visit him. Philip sent him back with protestations and thanks, and
ordered him to announce to the Queen his firm intention to fulfil his
promise to return to her, as soon as he had completed some business
which obliged him to go to Antwerp. Before leaving Brussels, the
Chamberlain remarked to some of the King’s attendants, that he should
gladly be the bearer of this good news, but that he had promised “not
to give account of his Majesty’s having twice gone abroad in this
wretched weather, and of his dancing at weddings, as he feared lest the
Queen who was easily agitated might take it too much to heart”.[591]
But no sooner were Mary’s hopes raised, than they were again dashed
to the ground, by an order which Philip’s confessor, Alfonso de
Castro; his steward, Don Diego de Azevedo, and the rest of his
household received, to proceed immediately to Spain, “An indication”
says Michiel,[592] “to some persons that the intentions announced by
King Philip to the Queen of his being here at the Epiphany, are mere
words”. Badoer, the Venetian ambassador at Brussels, told the Doge[593]
that this order had pained her intensely, as she took it for an
announcement, either that Philip would not return to England for a long
while, or that, should he return, he would shortly afterwards proceed
to Spain, as was generally believed. “The King’s confessor has arrived
here,” continued Badoer, “and repeated a variety of foul language,
uttered by the English, indicating their ill-will towards his Majesty,
and the Spanish nation, narrating the following incident, that on
seeing him and the rest of the royal attendants depart, they made great
rejoicing, well-nigh universally.” Philip’s relations with the English
in Brussels, and even with Mary’s ambassador there, were observed
to differ widely from the courtesy which had characterised them in
England, the outcome perhaps of his irritation towards the nation in
general, on account of their persistent unwillingness to proceed to his
coronation.
As the subject was much discussed in the official despatches of the
time, and as it served to increase the general discontent as well as
the Queen’s perplexities, it is deserving of more notice than has been
hitherto directed to it.
Mary’s continued inability to overcome the determination of the
Council not to bestow on him the Crown matrimonial was perhaps more
than anything else the cause of his alienation from a wife whom he had
never loved, and from a country which he had every reason to dislike.
His dignity and his future stake in the realm appeared to him to be
alike threatened by the refusal, and dignity was to Philip the breath
of his nostrils, while political considerations had by long habit
become paramount over all others.[594] To utilise Mary’s affection
for these ends seemed to him as legitimate, as to employ any other
means to compass them, and his absence, which caused the unhappy Queen
intense pain and grief, was to be a powerful factor in undermining her
objections, by the skilful manipulation of hope deferred. Moreover,
to the demand for his coronation, he added another of far greater
moment, a demand that the English should co-operate with him in the
long-talked-of war with France. To his first request Mary replied that
she did not venture to propose it in Parliament, so large a number of
members of the opposition having been returned, and as for the second,
Cardinal Pole, of whom even de Noailles spoke as “un homme pacifique,”
sent over the Abbot of San Saluto to confer with him. The following
extract from a letter from the Venetian ambassador at Brussels shows
the delicacy with which both questions were handled. Badoer says that
the Abbot, after treating of the peace “in the name of the Queen,
performed an earnest office with his Majesty, apologising for her
non-adoption of any of the resolutions desired by him, in the matter
of the coronation, or with regard to waging war on the most Christian
King, as mentioned in my former letters, telling King Philip that when
she looks round, and carefully considers the persons about her, she
scarcely knows one who has not injured her, or who would fail to do
so again were the opportunity to present itself, and that since she
is Queen, the afflictions and perils undergone by her have been, and
still are, so great, on account of the religion, and from anxiety to
preserve public quiet, besides other vexations, that she knew it to
be impossible to form either of these important resolutions, without
greatly endangering her crown; but that she hoped, in the course of a
short time, to comfort the King with what he seems to desire; and in
her Majesty’s name, and as his personal servant, the Abbot exhorted him
to go to England as soon as possible, but I have heard from a person of
quality that his Majesty is not inclined to do so, and that the Emperor
is of a contrary opinion. King Philip however has written back to the
Queen, feeding her in general terms with this hope, and suggesting
that in the meanwhile she could fill up the important offices now
vacant, as he shall be satisfied with any appointment made by her,
but recommending Lord Paget and the English ambassador in France (Dr.
Wotton) for the Chancellorship.”[595]
The Emperor had already conferred the sovereignty of Naples and Milan
on Philip at the time of his marriage; on the 22nd of October 1555
he invested him with the Grand Mastership of the Golden Fleece of
Burgundy, the proudest and most coveted of all the military orders
of knighthood of that day. These were but the preliminaries for his
abdication of the kingdom of the Netherlands, which he now, being only
in the fifty-sixth year of his age, formally ceded to his son[596]
with the sovereignties of Castile and Arragon and their dependencies.
Philip at once despatched a gentleman to England to give Mary notice,
and to congratulate her on her being able to style herself the Queen
of many and great crowns, and on her being no less their mistress than
of her own crown of England. He again assured her that on his return
from Antwerp, to which place he was going the next day, he would remain
a few days with the Emperor, and then go speedily to her. Confiding
in the truth of this assertion, Mary ordered the fleet to drop down
towards the sea forthwith, and a guard of 100 halberdiers to be at
Dover on the 20th January. The Earl of Pembroke was to hold himself
in readiness, from one day to another, to go to Calais to receive his
Majesty.[597]
And still Philip came not, nor had he apparently any intention of
coming. But seeing little present hope of drawing England into a war
with France, he concluded, in February 1556, a truce with Henry II. for
five years.
Meanwhile, a formidable plot, known as Dudley’s conspiracy to murder
the Queen, and place Elizabeth on the throne, was being hatched in
London. It was revealed to Cardinal Pole before the decisive moment,
but it was some time before the real nature and object of the design
were brought to light. On the 17th March, Michiel notified to the Doge:
“For many consecutive days, a comet has been visible as it still is,
and with this opportunity, a gang of rogues, some twelve in number, who
have been arrested, went about the city, saying we should soon see the
Day of Judgment, when everything would be burned and consumed. These
knaves, with a number of others, availing themselves of this device,
agreed to set fire to several parts of the city, to facilitate their
project of murder and robbery, and if this be true, due punishment
will be inflicted on them.”[598]
A few days later, the affair assumed a more serious aspect, and on the
24th Michiel continued his report:—
“The suspicion about the conspirators, who proposed setting fire to
several quarters of the city, for the sake of plunder, had a different
root and origin to what was reported, a plot having been lately
discovered of such a nature, that had it been carried into effect as
arranged, it would doubtless, as generally believed, considering the
ill-will of the majority of the population here on account of the
religion, besides their innate love of frequent change and innovation,
have placed the Queen and the whole kingdom in great trouble, as it was
of greater circuit and extent than had been at first supposed.”
They were to have seized all the public money, by an understanding with
the officials of the Exchequer, and to facilitate this, were to set
fire to different parts of the city, and to the palace, so that the
population being occupied with the conflagration, in the midst of the
turmoil, they might do their work freely, and after its accomplishment,
escape in two of the Queen’s ships well armed and provisioned.[599]
[Illustration: CARDINAL REGINALD POLE, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.
From an engraving of a portrait painted by Sebastiano del Piombo.]
The money, consisting chiefly of the bullion brought over from Spain
by Philip, was, on the discovery of the plot, secretly removed from
the Tower; but the conspirators were left unmolested, and carefully
watched. When the affair seemed ripe, the ringleaders were caught
in the act and arrested. But even then, the whole extent of the
plot, which had been far more carefully planned than that of Wyatt
and his accomplices, had still to be discovered. The Queen was,
however, sufficiently alarmed not to allow Cardinal Pole, who had been
preconised Archbishop of Canterbury, to leave her for the ceremony
of his consecration, which was to have taken place in his Cathedral
Church, on the 25th March.[600] He was therefore consecrated in
the Church of the Grey Friars at Greenwich, with great solemnity, and
in presence of the Queen and of the whole court, and in spite of his
anxiety to begin the exercise of his spiritual functions, the State
burden which the King and Queen had placed on his shoulders pressed
daily more and more heavily. The conspiracy, as it was discovered
piecemeal, resolved itself into a vast network composed indeed of the
usual meshes, spread by the French King, his ambassador, Elizabeth,
and her confederates throughout the country, but it was bolder in
design than anything that had been hitherto conceived against Mary.
Its object, like Wyatt’s, was to depose and murder the Queen, raise
Elizabeth to the throne, and marry her to the Earl of Devon. The charge
to conduct it was entrusted by de Noailles to Sir Henry Dudley, an
offshoot of the disaffected Northumberland family and faction, to whom
the King of France granted a considerable pension, in return for his
services. Elizabeth’s willing co-operation was brought to light by
the instructions sent to de Noailles from France, one of the letters
implicating her containing the following passage: “Above all, you must
prevent Madam Elizabeth from making any sort of move to undertake
what you have written to me, for it would spoil everything, and lose
the advantage which they may expect from their plans, which must be
conducted carefully and slowly”.[601]
In order to arrange the final _coup_, Dudley, followed by three other
conspirators, sailed for France and landed in Normandy. The moment was
unfavourable, Henry II. having but just concluded his truce for five
years with Philip, and little as considerations of honour and chivalry
had ever entered into his dealings with Mary, he shrank from the
odium he would incur, in appearing as an accomplice, in a conspiracy
against a prince with whom he had sworn even a temporary friendship.
He therefore ordered Dudley and his friends to remain quiet, and to
counsel their allies in England to do the same, feigning loyalty, until
a more convenient season. The above-mentioned instructions which he
wrote to de Noailles concerning Elizabeth’s part in their schemes, and
the necessity for her quiescence belong to this juncture. Dudley, and
the three conspirators who had followed him into France, continued to
reside there, and the discovery of the plot was the result of precisely
the same want of combined action that had impelled Wyatt to break out
into open revolt, six weeks before the time originally agreed upon. The
impatience of the plotters in London brooked no delay; they disregarded
the advice of their royal ally, and their dark sayings in connection
with the comet, chronicled in Michiel’s despatch of the 17th March,
first roused the suspicion of the Government, and led to the arrest
of Sir Anthony Kingston, Throckmorton, Udal, Staunton and others,
about forty in number. Kingston had been sent to the Tower some months
previously, for seditious words, but had been released by the Queen’s
prerogative, Mary believing him to be loyal at heart, in spite of his
intemperate language. Now, for the first time in her life, her courage
seemed to be unequal to the demands made upon it. She was greatly
troubled, and would no longer appear in public, and her depression
communicated itself to her friends. A panic among the loyalists was
however prevented, and confidence in a great measure restored by the
public appearance of Cardinal Pole, who on the 25th March, preached
in the church of St. Mary of the Arches, on the occasion of his
consecration and reception of the pallium, “to the edification of many
souls”. Alluding to the cause of his return to England, he explained
the meaning of the pallium, and dwelt on the peace which he had come
to offer to his fellow-countrymen. He told his hearers that they ought
not to be slow to receive so great a benefit, offered to them by the
Divine mercy, lest there be said of them those words uttered by Christ
concerning Jerusalem, when drawing nigh to and weeping over the city
He said: “If thou didst know the things which belong to thy peace; but
now are they hidden from thine eyes”. His voice failed with emotion; he
remained silent for a moment, and then continued in a low tone: “You
know what has passed; I pray you guard against the future,” and those
words, says the chronicler, “if thou didst know,” he pronounced with
such tenderness, that not one of his congregation remained unmoved.[602]
Never were details of conspiracy so slow to unfold themselves, even
long after the scheme had collapsed. When it at last dawned upon the
Government, that the traitors had a special understanding with the
King of France, the idea did not even then present itself to their
minds, that Elizabeth was in any way implicated, and it was not till
June, that attention was turned to her household. But as early as the
14th April Lord Clinton was commissioned, when Henry’s share in the
matter had become apparent, to proceed at once to France, ostensibly
to congratulate the King on the conclusion of his truce with Philip,
but he was also the bearer of instructions from the Council, to demand
Dudley and the other fugitives at his hands, as “traitors, heretics and
outlaws,” and to complain of the harbour which it was understood he
gave to English rebels, “contrary to the agreement and express treaty
between the two crowns”. The envoy was compelled to set out in such
haste, and so suddenly, and in such confusion, that neither he nor his
attendants had time to provide themselves with many necessary articles
of apparel, which “for the sake of dispatch were supplied them from the
Queen’s wardrobe”.[603] Henry affected ignorance of the case in point,
and to Lord Clinton’s representations, answered that his kingdom was so
large and free to every one, that he could not know so particularly,
either who entered it, nor who went out of it, but that he heard with
regret of the commotions in England. “Notwithstanding which,” continued
Sorranzo, Venetian ambassador in France, in his letter to the Doge,
“since several days, there are several Englishmen here at the court,
who were subsequently outlawed from England, and are said to have
come to ask favour from his most Christian Majesty.”[604] To Sorranzo,
speaking of the complaint made by Clinton, that he harboured the
Queen’s rebels, and listened to their proposals, Henry said:—
“I answered him that the malcontents of that kingdom were in such
number that they had already filled not only France but the whole of
Italy, and that it was true that they came to me and proposed the most
extravagant things possible, but that I had never given ear to any of
them; and to tell you the truth, ambassador, I know the English well,
and that they are not to be trusted by any one. I have also heard, that
in England, they plotted to make Courtenay go back, but my ambassador
at Venice writes to me, that by no means will he go thither.”[605]
Describing a former audience with Henry, Sorranzo says: “The King
added that he supposed I had heard of the disturbances in England, and
when I replied that they were known to me in part, he continued: ‘They
wanted to rob the Queen’s treasury, and plotted to put her to death, so
that kingdom is more upside down than ever, and the Queen wishes for
her husband, who cares but little about it, but through the coming of
these ambassadors, whom the Queen is sending, the future will be made
manifest,’ and with this the King closing the discourse, I thanked him
again in your Serenity’s name, and took leave. When speaking about
English affairs with the Constable, he said: ‘Ambassador, I will tell
you a thing privately, and do not forget it, as for my own part, I
believe it will certainly come true. I am of opinion that ere long the
King of England will endeavour to dissolve his marriage with the Queen,
and should this come to pass remember then this prophecy.’”[606]
The embassy mentioned by Henry was the sending of Lord Paget to Philip,
according to Badoer, to find out the true reason of his not coming, for
he declared, “the said Queen is beyond measure exasperated by what she
considers this well-nigh contemptuous treatment”. The astute Venetian
went on to say: “It is very evident, from the language of the chief
Spaniards of these two Courts [the Emperor’s and the King’s] that
neither the arguments adduced by Paget nor the adroit means employed
by him to make the King go to England, will take effect, unless he has
a certain promise from the Queen that she will crown him, in virtue of
such authority as, it is said, she might legally exercise, and with the
support of those who may be dependent on their Majesties, by reason of
offices and benefits received from them. The French ambassador uses
all diligence to ascertain whether his Majesty will go to England or
not, and according to news-letters which he says he has received from
thence, he shows that the coronation may take place, and that Queen
Maria of Hungary is the person who well-nigh daily writes autograph
letters on this subject to the Queen of England, exhorting her to put
aside every consideration, and her timidity, and to crown her husband,
assuring her that otherwise she will fail in what is due to herself,
and to right, and that consequently she will not have him with her. It
is said that Queen Maria acts thus by reason of the extreme desire she
has to resume the Regency of Flanders, in which she cannot succeed,
unless the King depart hence.”[607]
In a subsequent despatch, the same authority relates: “The report also
of King Philip’s going to England still continues, but neither the
ministers nor his Majesty himself any longer assert that it will take
place at the beginning of next month, as he told Lord Paget, who went
about assuring everybody of this, and that he should go back with his
Majesty; but by taking leave of the Emperor yesterday, to depart in
three days, he has surprised everybody. Some persons believe that the
King has rather cooled about going so immediately as was promised by
him, owing to the confession made to the Queen by one of the prisoners,
that he had determined to kill her consort; and some are of opinion
that King Philip has sent Lord Paget back, in order that he may return
subsequently with the Earl of Pembroke, and other English noblemen,
to conduct him with more positive arrangements. Don Juan Manrique,
a member of the Privy Council, having said that although the Queen
professes here to resign herself to the King’s will, it is nevertheless
evident that she either allows herself to be biased by her ministers,
or that Paget has promised more than he was commissioned to do. Others
say that his Majesty’s departure for England is delayed by the hope of
the coming hither of the King of Bohemia.”[608] Whatever the Emperor
and his son may have thought and intended, all they did was to buoy
Mary up with delusive hopes and polite assurances, as before, and she
gained nothing more from the embassy that was to have done so much.
Lord Clinton arrived from France about the same time that Paget
returned from Brussels, bringing many declarations of friendship from
Henry; but far from offering to surrender the traitors who had fled to
his court, the French King said openly that he would rather suffer in
his own person, than fail to receive and treat kindly any Englishmen
of however low degree, who might take refuge in his realm. “To-day,”
adds Michiel, “the French ambassador was a long while at the palace, I
believe about this business, concerning which should I hear anything
has passed worthy your Serenity’s notice, I will not omit to give you
notice of it by the first opportunity.”
Mary’s Government, now thoroughly on the alert, made fresh discoveries
and arrests daily. Carew, one of the chief conspirators in Wyatt’s
rebellion, and Dr. Cheke, formerly tutor to Edward VI., were taken
together in Flanders, and sent to England. Strict watch was kept about
the court, and in Elizabeth’s household, and the Queen still refused to
appear in public, even on the solemn feast of the Ascension. It was
said that recognising the uselessness of her former clemency, and the
ingratitude of those who had before been so freely pardoned, she had
determined that all should suffer the just punishment of their misdeeds.
But in fact, nothing was done without Philip’s advice, and the courier
Francesco Piamontese was continually on the road between London and
Brussels, bearing letters from the Queen to the King, and _vice versâ_.
On the day on which Paget returned, Mary had two interviews with him,
lasting upwards of two hours. The next day, to the surprise of all,
Piamontese was on his way back to Flanders. “Many persons believe,”
wrote Michiel, “that this frequent despatch of couriers, during the
last few months, relates not only to the affair of the prisoners, it
being credible that the Queen acquaints her consort with what takes
place from day to day, and with the discoveries made, and that this
last mission of Francesco in great part concerns Carew and Cheke—but
also another more momentous matter, and perhaps the one communicated to
me heretofore [and written to the Doge in a despatch now lost] relating
to the Lady Elizabeth, which proceeds with very great secrecy.”[609]
Again he says that the arrest of Carew and Cheke has been followed by
that of Lord Thomas Howard (second son of the third Duke of Norfolk)
who has been suspected for some time, on account of his intimacy with
three of the conspirators, and he then communicates the following
important fact: “The French ambassador, M. de Noailles, took leave of
the Queen yesterday, as for many months; subsequent however to the
discovery of the conspiracy, he has most earnestly requested his king
to recall him hence, for the removal simultaneously of the suspicions
and accusations to which he will be hourly subjected, through the
examinations of the conspirators, and to avoid any dishonour, from
which he has indeed had a very narrow escape, for from what I hear,
there was a debate and decision in the Privy Council, as to whether,
by proceeding against him individually, as a plotter and contriver
against the state and person of the Sovereign with whom he resides,
the ‘_jus gentium_’ would thus be violated; but to avoid coming to open
hostilities at the present moment, and under existing circumstances, it
seems that the ministry has not chosen to proceed further, dissembling
their indignation, and consigning the affair to silence for the
present, perhaps in conformity with the will and command of the most
Serene King. There will remain here in his stead as agent, a brother of
his, a Councillor of the Parliament of Bordeaux, who was sent lately
from France, until the arrival of the other brother, the Protonotary,
destined a long while ago for the embassy in ordinary.”[610]
The arrest of Lord Thomas Howard was followed by that of Lord de la
Warre, described by Michiel as “factious and scandalous, having been
deprived of his seat in Parliament as baron, for an attempt to poison
one of his uncles, for the sake of inheriting from him so much the
sooner, wherefore no one is surprised at his having been guilty as an
associate in the plot”.[611] About the same time were sent to the Tower
the notorious Katharine Ashley, governess of Elizabeth’s household at
Hatfield, and three other inmates of it. They all confessed to having
had knowledge of the conspiracy, this alone being sufficient to imperil
their lives, while in Katharine Ashley’s possession were found a number
of “those writings and scandalous books against the King and Queen,
which were scattered about some months ago, and published all over the
kingdom”.
It was probably owing to Philip’s prudent policy that Elizabeth’s
household and not the Princess herself was accused. Experience had
proved, that to push matters to a crisis with Elizabeth was wholly
unprofitable, and that by giving her an opportunity of placing herself
in the light of a victim, the enemy’s hands were strengthened. Philip,
far more diplomatic than the Queen, had on the few occasions on which
he had come into personal contact with her, affected to regard her as a
friend. And he had seen the futility of any other attitude towards her.
Moreover, he was still hoping that Parliament would grant him the crown
matrimonial, and he was mindful of those members of the opposition,
of whom the Queen had told him that they were in so great force, all
devoted to Elizabeth, and who might yet turn the balance in his favour.
Thus it was no doubt Philip’s influence that prompted the curious
proceedings towards her, related in Michiel’s letter of the 9th June:—
“The arrest of the governess, and of Miladi Elizabeth’s three domestics
having subsequently been added to by that of two other gentlemen
resident here, who although her dependants, and receiving salaries
from her are in less constant attendance on her than the aforesaid,
the Queen was induced to send to her in the country (at Hatfield)
yesterday, Sir Edward Hastings, Master of the Horse, and Sir Henry[612]
Englefield, one of the lords of the royal Council, to console and
comfort her on behalf of her Majesty, knowing, as may well be supposed,
that this circumstance had distressed and dejected her; and to present
her as a token of loving salutation, and of a message of good-will,
according to the custom here, with a ring worth 400 ducats, and also
to give her minute accounts of the cause of their arrest, to acquaint
her with what they had hitherto deposed and confessed, and to persuade
her not to take amiss the removal from about her person of similar
folks, who subjected her to the danger of some evil suspicion; assuring
her of the Queen’s good-will and disposition, provided she continue
to live becomingly, to her Majesty’s liking; together with some other
particulars which cannot now be ascertained; using in short, loving
and gracious expressions, to show her that she is neither neglected
nor hated, but loved and esteemed by her Majesty. This message is
considered most gracious by the whole kingdom, everybody in general
wishing her all ease and honour, and very greatly regretting any
trouble she may incur; the proceedings having been not only necessary,
but profitable to warn her of the licentious life led, especially in
matters of religion, by her household, independently of the certain
knowledge had by those members of it who have been arrested, of these
conspiracies; she being thus clandestinely exposed to the manifest risk
of infamy and ruin.
“The Queen has thus moreover an opportunity for remodelling her
(Elizabeth’s) household in another form, and with a different sort of
persons to those now in her service, replacing them by such as are
entirely dependent on her Majesty; so that as her own proceedings,
and those of all such persons as enter or quit her abode will be most
narrowly scanned, she may have reason to keep so much the more to her
duty, and together with her attendants behave the more cautiously; but
on the return of the gentlemen aforesaid, the effect produced by them
will be still better ascertained.”
On the 16th Michiel continues:—
“The office performed with Miladi Elizabeth by the two personages sent
to her in the Queen’s name, agreed with what I wrote on the 9th, as
heard on their return. According to the chief commission given them;
before leaving her, they placed in her house a certain Sir Thomas
Pope, a rich and grave gentleman of good name, both for conduct and
religion; the Queen having appointed him Miladi’s governor, and she
having accepted him willingly, although he himself did his utmost to
decline such a charge. I am told that besides this person, they also
assigned her a widow gentlewoman as governess, in lieu of her own,
who is a prisoner, so that at present, having none but the Queen’s
dependents about her person, she herself likewise may be also said to
be in ward and custody, though in such decorous and honourable form as
becoming.”[613]
Elizabeth shortly afterwards wrote the following letter to Mary,
exceeding in obscurity of phrase and circumlocution any of her former
effusions.
“When I revolve in mind (most noble Queen) the old love of Painyms
to their prince and the reverent fear of the Romans to their
Senate, I can but muse for my part, and blush for theirs, to see
the rebellious hearts and devilish intents of Christians in names,
but Jews indeed toward their anointed King. Which methinks if
they had feared God though they could not have loved the State,
they should for dread of their own plague have refrained that
wickedness which their bounden duty to your Majesty hath not
restrained. But when I call to remembrance that the devil _tanquam
Leo rugiens circumit querens que devorare potest_, I do the less
marvel, though he have gotten such novices into his professed
house, as vessels without God’s grace, more apt to serve his
palace, than might to inhabit English land. I am the bolder to
call them his imps, for that Saint Paul saith _seditiosi filii
sunt diaboli_, and since I have so good a buckler, I fear the
less to enter into their judgment. Of this I assure your Majesty,
though it be my part, above the rest, to bewail such things,
though my name had not been in them, yet it vexeth me so much that
the devil owes me such a hate, as to put me in any part of his
mischievous instigations, whom as I profess him my foe that is
all christians’ enemy, so wish I he had some other way invented
to spite me, but since it hath pleased God thus to bewray their
malice afore they finish their purpose, I most humbly thank him
both that he hath ever thus preserved your Majesty through his
aid, much like a lamb from the horns of their Basanbulls, and
also stirs up the hearts of your loving subjects to resist them
and deliver you to his honour, and their shame. The intelligence
of which, proceeding from your Majesty, deserveth more humble
thanks than with my pen I can render, which as infinite I will
leave to number. And among earthly things I chiefly wish this one,
that there were as good surgeons for making anatomies of hearts
that might show my thoughts to your Majesty, as there are expert
physicians of the bodies, able to express the inward griefs of
their maladies to their patients. For then I doubt not, but know
well, that whatsoever other should suggest by malice, yet your
Majesty should be sure by knowledge, so that the more such misty
clouds offuscate the clear light of my truth, the more my tried
thoughts should glister to the dimming of their hid malice. But
since wishes are vain, and desire oft fails, I must crave that my
deeds may supply that my thoughts cannot declare, and they be not
misdeemed there, as the facts have been so well tried. And like
as I have been your faithful subject from the beginning of your
reign, so shall no wicked persons cause me to change to the end
of my life. And thus I commit your Majesty to God’s tuition, who
I beseech long time to preserve, ending with the new remembrance
of my old suit, more for that it should not be forgotten, than for
that I think it not remembered.
“From Hatfield this present Sunday the second day of August, your
Majesty’s obedient subject and humble sister
“ELIZABETH.”[614]
The truce concluded between Philip and Henry for five years, made in
despite of a treaty scarcely two months old, between the King of France
and the Pope, which had for its object to drive the Spaniards out of
Italy, came to an end in July of the same year. It was broken by Henry,
at the instigation of the Pope’s envoy and nephew Cardinal Caraffa, who
promised the King of France that his uncle should give the crown of
Naples to one of his sons, and Milan to another. Philip then declared
war against the Pope who imprisoned his ambassador, and proceeded to
the fortification of Rome. “The Queen,” said Michiel, “by her orders
still continues to maintain her neutrality, although harassed as usual,
owing to the present suspicions between the Pope and her consort, on
account of which, Cardinal Pole was on the point of sending an express
to Rome, but apparently awaits the return of Francesco Piamontese.”
At home, justice was being administered in a manner that seemed to
promise immunity from further attempts at revolution, although after
events proved, that the evil was still lurking in Elizabeth’s shadow.
Kingston died on his way to the Tower, of a disease from which he
had long been suffering; his accomplices were tried and executed,
“while all, both good and bad, said and admitted, that the execution
was just and holy”. The death of Lord de la Warre, and that of three
others condemned with him, was deferred from day to day, in order,
said Michiel, that they might “reconcile themselves to God, and for
the salvation of their souls, to which above all the Queen wishes the
greatest attention to be paid, rather than because either they or
others may hope for pardon, as the persons aforesaid, neither by their
own deserts, nor through the intercession of persons in great favour
with the Queen, and very dear to her, have been able to obtain it.
According to report, although it seems improbable, Carew will adjust
his affairs by payment of a fine, some persons telling me that he has
already done so, by agreeing to disburse £2,000 sterling. Cheke has
again demanded a conference with the theologians, after having lately
dismissed them, persisting obstinately in his heretical opinions,
which unless he retract them will cause him likewise to be burned in
public.”[615]
On the 19th October, the ambassador announced that Peter Carew had come
out of the Tower, and was released entirely, after having compounded
for 2,000 marks, and had already paid a part of his debt to the Crown.
Katharine Ashley was also set at liberty, but was deprived of her
office in Elizabeth’s household, “and forbidden ever again to go to her
ladyship,” who was expected shortly at court. Dr. Cheke recanted and
was liberated. As a direct consequence of his recantation, “through the
efficacy of his language,” about thirty others followed his example and
saved their lives.[616] He died the next year, some said of remorse,
for what he had done against the reformed religion.
The times were more full of strife and trouble for Mary than any
period she had traversed since the beginning of her reign. Her
confidence in her people, which had carried her undoubtingly through
the anxieties of Wyatt’s rebellion, had been rudely shaken. Insult,
calumny and treachery had at last opened her eyes to the extent of the
disaffection that prevailed. Philip, moreover, who was to have been
her sheet-anchor, and that of the nation, treated her not merely with
neglect, but with ill-disguised contempt; and far from appreciating
the difficulties and dangers with which she was beset, added to them,
by insisting on concessions that could only be wrung from the nation
at the cost of the last remnant of her popularity. Together with him,
she had celebrated with inexpressible joy, what was to have been the
crowning glory of her reign—the reconciliation of her kingdom with the
Holy See—and now, little more than a year and a half afterwards, not
only was the country a very hot-bed of political and religious revolt,
but the most Catholic King himself was in open debate with the Pope,
and even threatened with excommunication. She had reason enough to
acknowledge herself beaten all along the line, but she would have been
no Tudor had she done so. As for her constancy, no other Tudor could
boast the like, and little as Philip cared for her, she clung to him as
faithfully as to the principles that had been her mainstay all her life
long. Her piteous plight did not escape the observation of the kindly
Venetian ambassador, who in his despatch of the 23rd June, 1556, wrote:
“As for many months, the Queen has passed from one sorrow to another,
your Serenity can imagine what a life she leads, comforting herself
as usual with the presence of Cardinal Pole, to whose assiduous toil
and diligence, having entrusted the whole government of the kingdom,
she is intent on enduring her troubles as patiently as she can”. Two
months later, he wrote: “To say the truth, the Queen’s face has lost
flesh greatly since I was last with her, the extreme need she has of
her Consort’s presence harassing her, as told me, she having also
within the last few days lost her sleep”. And again: “The Queen has
been unwell lately, both from the great heat, the like of which no one
remembers, as likewise owing to some mental vexation, and not having
yet quite recovered, she has chosen to change her residence, and to-day
went eight miles hence to Croydon, to a house of the most illustrious
the Legate”.[617] “Before moving,” said Michiel in another letter,
“the Queen chose to give orders and arrange about the prisoners, so
as not to be troubled with this business during her absence, having
some of them released, on giving security, others being fined, others
remaining in prison where they were; to others she conceded liberty
within the Tower; and the execution of those condemned to death is
deferred from what I hear, until her return, perhaps in order that
the King being then here may, with his usual clemency, obtain their
entire release, so as to gain for himself so much the more favour and
popularity.”[618]
In spite of the Queen’s resolve to treat the peace disturbers with
greater severity than heretofore, her former leniency having been so
much abused, it does not appear from the above that Mary had any desire
for their death, but it would seem rather, as if she snatched at every
pretext for sparing their lives, providing them with every possible
pretext for escape. In her desolation and perplexities, she turned
more than ever to the consolations of religion, and to the relief of
the poor and afflicted. It was especially to the summer of 1556, part
of which was spent at Croydon, that the biographer of the Duchess of
Feria refers, when he describes Mary’s informal visits to her poor
neighbours, and tells of the practical aid and sympathy the Queen gave
them in their necessities, listening to their grievances, taking their
part actively on occasion, against the injustice of her own officials,
advising them as to the upbringing of their children, and doing all she
could to improve their condition.[619] But it was not only during her
retirement in the country, that she found time for acts of charity. In
the midst of the cares of state, and the turmoil of public affairs,
devotion to the poor was among the recognised duties of her daily life.
It was part of her personal piety, and inseparable from her devotion
to her religion, the sincerity of which, notwithstanding all the
libels that have been heaped upon her memory, has never been called in
question.
In Holy Week, 1556, the Dudley conspiracy had just been discovered,
and the Queen was too much alarmed to allow of Cardinal Pole’s
departure for Canterbury. From the despatches of the Venetian
ambassador we know that she refrained for some time almost entirely
from appearing in public, yet she made no alteration in the performance
of the public acts of charity, which according to ancient custom
she had determined to carry out at this time. Marc Antonio Faitta,
secretary to Cardinal Pole, writing to a private friend in Italy,
describes the ceremony of the feet-washing on Holy Thursday by the
Queen. He says:—
“Her Majesty, being accompanied by the right reverend Legate and by the
Council, entered a large hall, at the head of which was my Lord Bishop
of Ely, as Dean of the Queen’s chaplains, with the choristers of her
Majesty’s chapel. Around this hall on either side, there were seated
on certain benches with their feet on stools, many poor women to the
number of forty and one, such being the number of years of the most
Serene Queen. Then one of the menials of the court, having washed the
right foot of each of these poor persons, and this function being also
next performed by the under almoner, and also by the grand almoner, who
is the Bishop of Chichester, her Majesty next commenced the ceremony in
the following manner: At the entrance of the hall, there was a great
number of the chief dames and noble ladies of the court, and they
prepared themselves by putting on a long linen apron which reached to
the ground, and round their necks they placed a towel, the two ends
of which remained pendant at full length on either side, each of them
carrying a silver ewer, and they had flowers in their hands, the Queen
also being arrayed in like manner. Her Majesty knelt down on both her
knees before the first of the poor women, and taking in the left hand
the woman’s right foot, she washed it with her own right hand, drying
it very thoroughly with the towel which hung at her neck, and having
signed it with the cross, she kissed the foot so fervently, that it
seemed as if she were embracing something very precious. She did the
like by all and each of the other poor women, one by one, each of the
ladies, her attendants, giving her in turn their basin and ewer and
towel; and I vow to you, that in all her movements and gestures, and
by her manner, she seemed to act thus not merely out of ceremony but
from great feeling and devotion. Amongst these demonstrations, there
was this one remarkable, that in washing the feet, she went the whole
length of that long hall, from one end to the other on her knees.
Having finished, and risen on her feet, she went back to the head of
the hall, and commenced giving in turn to each of the poor women a
large wooden platter, with enough food for four persons, filled with
great pieces of salted fish, and two large loaves, and thus she went a
second time, distributing these alms. She next returned a third time
to begin again, giving to each of the women a wooden bowl filled with
wine, or rather I think hippocras; after which, for the fourth time,
she returned, and gave to each of these poor people a piece of cloth,
of royal mixture, for clothing. Then returning for the fifth time, she
gave to each a pair of shoes and stockings; for the sixth time she gave
to each a leathern purse, containing forty-one pennies, according to
the number of her own years, and which in value may amount to rather
more than half an Italian golden crown; finally, going back for the
seventh time, she distributed all the aprons and towels which had been
carried by those dames and noble ladies, in number forty-one, giving
each with her own hand. Her Majesty then quitted the hall, to take off
the gown which she had worn, and half an hour afterwards she returned,
being preceded by an attendant, carrying the said gown, and thus she
went twice round the hall, examining very closely all the poor women
one by one, and then returning for the third time, she gave the said
gown to the one who was in fact the poorest and most aged of them all;
and this gown was of the finest purple cloth lined with marten’s fur,
and with sleeves so long and wide that they reached the ground. During
this ceremony, the choristers chanted the _Miserere_, with certain
other psalms, reciting at each verse the words: ‘_In diebus illis
mulier quæ erat in civitate peccatrix_’.”[620]
The same writer goes on to describe the ceremonies of Good Friday:—
“After this, on Friday morning (4th April) the offertory was performed
according to custom in the church of the Franciscan Friars, which is
contiguous to the palace. After the Passion, the Queen came down from
her oratory for the adoration of the Cross, accompanied by my Lord the
right reverend Legate, and kneeling at a short distance from the cross,
moved towards it on her knees, praying before it thrice, and then she
drew nigh and kissed it, performing this act with such devotion, as
greatly to edify all those who were present. Her Majesty next gave her
benediction to the rings (cramp rings), the mode of doing so being as
follows:[621] An enclosure was formed for her Majesty, to the right of
the high altar, by means of four benches placed so as to form a square,
into the centre of which she again came down from her oratory, and
placing herself on her knees within this enclosure, two large covered
basins were brought to her, filled with rings of gold and silver, one
of these basins containing rings of her own, whilst the other had those
of private individuals labelled with their owners’ names. On their
being uncovered, she commenced reciting a certain prayer and psalms,
and then taking them in her two hands, she passed them again and again
from one hand to the other, saying another prayer which commenced thus:
‘_Sanctifica, Domine, annulos istos_’.
“This being terminated, her Majesty went to bless the scrofulous, but
she chose to perform this act privately in a gallery, where there were
not above twenty persons; and an altar being raised there, she knelt
and recited the Confession (Confiteor?), on the conclusion of which,
her Majesty turned towards my right reverend Lord, the Legate, who gave
her absolution; whereupon, a priest read from the Gospel according
to St. Mark, and on his coming to these words: ‘_Super ægros manus
imponet et bene habebunt_,’ she caused one of those infirm women to be
brought to her, and kneeling the whole time, she commenced pressing
with her hands in the form of a cross, on the spot where the sore was,
with such compassion and devotion, as to be a marvel, and whilst she
continued doing this to a man and to three women, the priest kept ever
repeating these words, ‘_Super ægros_,’ etc. Then on terminating the
Gospel, after the words ‘_In principio erat verbum_,’ and on coming to
the following, namely, ‘_Erat lux vera quæ illuminat omnem hominem in
hunc mundum_,’ then the Queen made the sick people again approach her,
and taking a golden coin called an angel, she touched the place where
the evil showed itself, and signed it with this coin in the form of the
cross; and having done this, she passed a ribbon through a hole which
had been pierced in the coin, and placed one of these round the neck of
each of the patients, making them promise never to part with that coin,
which was hallowed, save in case of extreme need, and then, having
washed her hands, the towel being presented to her by my Lord the right
reverend Legate, she returned to her oratory.
“Having been present myself in person at all these ceremonies, her
Majesty struck me as affording a great and rare example of goodness,
performing all those acts with such humility and love of religion,
offering up her prayers to God with so great devotion and affection,
and enduring for so long a while and so patiently so much fatigue; and
seeing thus, that the more her Majesty advances in the rule of this
kingdom, so does she daily afford fresh and greater opportunities for
commending her extreme piety, I dare assert that there never was a
queen in Christendom of greater goodness than this one, whom I pray God
long to save and prosper, for the glory of His divine honor, and for
the edification and exaltation of His holy Church, not less than for
the consolation and salvation of the people of this island.”[622]
Faitta adds that at court, alms were distributed to 3,000 poor persons
on Holy Thursday, and that the Cardinal having made preparations for
his public entry into his archdiocese, and being prevented by the Queen
from going there, caused all his provisions to be divided among the
poor of Canterbury, 2,000 in number, besides giving largesses to many
others, who had flocked to that city from the neighbourhood, “all which
causes the indigent population there now to await his right reverend
Lordship with greater anxiety than ever”.
Another source of consolation to Mary, during Philip’s prolonged
absence, lay in the success of her plans for the re-establishment of
the religious orders, which had been dispersed, and their homes for
the most part secularised by her father. Her health had been greatly
benefited by her sojourn at Croydon, she took fresh heart at her
husband’s renewed promises of a speedy return, and entering London at
the approach of Michaelmas, seemed to have recovered her usual spirits.
Michiel wrote on the 28th September: “The Queen, thank God, continues
in her good plight, rejoicing to see the monks of St. Benedict returned
to their old Abbey of Westminster, into which, the canons having been
removed, they, in God’s name, will make their entry to-morrow,[623] and
this will be the third monastery and order of regulars, besides one of
nuns which has been hitherto reestablished, to which will be soon added
the fourth, of the Carthusians (at Shene) who have already made their
appearance, to return as they will, according to the promise given
them, to their ancient abode, eight miles hence, although it is now
occupied by the Duchess of Somerset, who is however to be recompensed
with something else”.[624]
On the 24th October, Michiel announced the arrival at Dover of the
King’s pages, stable and armoury, together with some shopkeepers “who
follow the Court, to put their shops in order” against his Majesty’s
arrival, “and as this” said he, “is the first sign witnessed, it has
greatly rejoiced this entire city, and the people, chiefly on account
of the profit which from past experience they all hope to make”. A
report was also circulated, of an agreement arrived at between the Pope
and King Philip, to the great rejoicing of the Queen and of Cardinal
Pole. “Nothing is thought of, nothing expected save this blessed return
of the King,” wrote the Venetian on the 24th November, “which as told
me by Cardinal Pole, the Queen will not credit can be impeded or
delayed by the rupture in Italy with the Pope, unless here they declare
war on France; but as yesterday, a courier sent express post haste
brought news of the King’s return to Brussels, thus removing himself to
a greater distance from here, everybody’s suspicion of further delay
has increased.... Here, they have been intent on levying the loan
demanded by them; henceforth they will occupy themselves by paying the
debts, the Queen choosing everybody to be satisfied by Christmas or
before, and to give yet greater satisfaction, she has also willed that
the gentlemen pensioners and yeomen, who were broken lately, re-enter
her service, letting it appear that their dismissal proceeded from her
councillors, and not from her own desire, which by the said pensioners
and universally was received with twofold gratitude.”
On the 9th November, Philip told Mary that he could not fix a certain
date for his return, but that he hoped it would be soon, “and though
this indeed saddens the Queen,” said Michiel, “yet nevertheless,
considering that such is the fact, and that his not coming does not
proceed from neglect, nor from little will, but from necessity, owing
to the nature of the times, and his important business, the Queen has
of late been pacified, and hope remaining to her, she endures this
delay better than she did”.[625]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 581: Despatches of Giovanni Michiel, Venetian Archives;
Rawdon Brown, _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 174.]
[Footnote 582: _Diary_, p. 92.]
[Footnote 583: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 190.]
[Footnote 584: Michiel to the Doge and Senate, Ven. Archives; Rawdon
Brown, _Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 204.]
[Footnote 585: Michiel to the Doge and Senate, Ven. Archives; Rawdon
Brown, _Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 251.]
[Footnote 586: Cardinal Pole to Cardinal Caraffa, St. Mark’s Library,
MS., Cod. xxiv., Cl. x.]
[Footnote 587: _Ambassades_, vol. v., p. 204.]
[Footnote 588: This was the pretext. The real motive for his
degradation was most likely that the Garter might be conferred on Lord
Guildford Dudley.]
[Footnote 589: _Ambassades_, vol. v., p. 204.]
[Footnote 590: Machyn, _Diary_, p. 94.]
[Footnote 591: Federico Badoer, Venetian Ambassador with the Emperor,
to the Doge and Senate, Ven. Archives, 15th December 1555.]
[Footnote 592: _Ven. Calendar_, vol. vi., pt. i., 316.]
[Footnote 593: _Ibid._, 318.]
[Footnote 594: The Emperor was as anxious for his son’s coronation as
King of England as Philip was himself, and emphasised the fact that
“étant le dit roi notre fils couronné, il traitera les affaires de ce
côté-là avec plus d’autorité” (Charles V. to Simon Renard, Brussels,
15th Nov. 1554, Granville Papers, vol. iv., p. 333).]
[Footnote 595: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 332. But Mary would not
appoint a layman, and decided on Heath, Archbishop of York.]
[Footnote 596: Prescott, _History of the Reign of Philip II._, p. 8 _et
seq._]
[Footnote 597: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 353.]
[Footnote 598: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 429. Machyn calls
attention to the fact that this comet made its appearance on the 7th
March; Stow says on the 4th; Michiel shows that it was still visible on
the 17th.]
[Footnote 599: _Ibid._, 434.]
[Footnote 600: “March 21. Dr. Cranmer, late Archbishop of Canterbury,
afore disgraded was brent at Oxford. The same day, the Lord Cardinal
Poole was made priest at Lambeth, and the morrow being Sunday, he
was consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury at Greenwich in the Friars’
Church, and the Wednesday after, being the feast of the Annunciation,
he received the pall in his church of St. Mary the Arches _alias_ Bow
Church in Cheape” (Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 134).]
[Footnote 601: _Ambassades_, vol. v., p. 299. “Et surtout eviter que
madame Elizabeth ne se remue en sorte du monde pour entreprendre ce
que m’escrivez; car ce serait tout gaster, et perdre le fruict qu’ilz
peulvent attendre de leurs desseings, qu’il est besoign traicter et
mener à la longue.”]
[Footnote 602: MS. St. Mark’s Library, Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., pp. 168-74.]
[Footnote 603: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 458.]
[Footnote 604: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 467.]
[Footnote 605: _Ibid._, 504.]
[Footnote 606: _Ibid._, 457.]
[Footnote 607: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 460.]
[Footnote 608: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 479. Manrique told Badoer
that the Spaniards said, the King had no cause to gratify the Queen
in this respect, nor yet in any other, as she had in fact shown but
little conjugal affection for him, and that little could be hoped from
her; they also said that not only had the King to pay his own expenses,
but also those of a great number of Englishmen, spending so vast a sum
of money, and being subjected to so many vexations in that kingdom,
on account of the Queen, that were he not bound by this marriage, the
imperial and royal courtiers said generally, he ought to be deterred
from going thither (427).]
[Footnote 609: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 489.]
[Footnote 610: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 495, London, 26th May
1556.]
[Footnote 611: _Ibid._, 505. “Tuesday the 30th June Wm. West esquier
calling himself De La Ware was arraigned at the Guildhall in London for
treason. But in the beginning of his arraignment he would not answer to
his name of Wm. West esquier, but as Lord de la Ware, and to be tried
by his peers, which the judges there with the heralds proved he was no
lord, because he was never created nor made a lord by any writ to the
Parliament, nor had any to show for his creation, wherefore that plea
would not serve, and so had like to have had judgment without trial;
but at last he answered to the name of Wm. West esquier, and so was
tried by twelve men, and condemned of treason, as consenting to Henry
Dudley and his adherants; and so had judgment as traitor” (Wriothesley,
_Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 135).]
[Footnote 612: A mistake of Michiel’s for Francis.]
[Footnote 613: Michiel to the Doge and Senate, _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi.,
pt. i., 510, 514.]
[Footnote 614: Lansdowne MS. 1236, f. 37. In her own hand.]
[Footnote 615: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 548.]
[Footnote 616: _Ibid._, pt. i., 45, 648; pt. ii., 690.]
[Footnote 617: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 525, 580. Mary had been
staying at Eltham, and removed to Croydon, to a house which had once
belonged to her mother, but which was now an archiepiscopal residence.]
[Footnote 618: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 554.]
[Footnote 619: _The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria_, p. 64.]
[Footnote 620: These words show that Mary performed the ceremony
not in imitation of Christ washing the feet of His apostles, but in
commemoration of the act of devotion of St. Mary Magdalen towards our
Lord.]
[Footnote 621: Cramp rings blessed by Queen Mary were in request at the
Emperor’s Court. See Foreign Calendars, _Mary_, 347 and 348, 25th and
26th April 1555.]
[Footnote 622: MS. St. Mark’s Library, Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., pp. 168-74;
_Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., p. 434 _et seq._]
[Footnote 623: “Saturday the 21 of November, Mr. Dr. Feckenham, late
Dean of Paul’s in London, was made Abbot of Westminster, and stalled,
and took possession of the same; and fourteen monks more received
the habit the same day with him of the order of St. Bennett, and the
Queen gave to the said Abbot all such lands as remained that day in
her hands, suppressed and taken by King Henry the Eighth, for ever”
(Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, p. 136).]
[Footnote 624: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 634. Besides the
religious houses mentioned in the text, Mary restored that of the Black
Friars in London, the Hospital of St. John at Smithfield, and the
convent at Sion, near Brentford.]
[Footnote 625: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 697.]
CHAPTER XV.
WAR.
1556-1558.
Want of money had hampered the Queen from the beginning of her reign,
and was not the least among the causes which led to the unpopularity
of her government. Her poverty was apparent, had observed the French
ambassador, even in the number of dishes placed on her table, and
worse still, it had necessarily influenced the distribution of rewards
to those who had risked all for their rightful sovereign. One not
unfriendly ambassador so far misunderstood the state of her finances,
as to accuse her of parsimony, although it was well known that she had
inherited debts from her father and brother, amounting to an enormous
sum.[626]
The Act of Parliament which restored Papal supremacy also decreed that
the holders of Church lands might lawfully retain them, the Kings of
England having had jurisdiction over all ecclesiastical property from
time immemorial. Mary’s own conscience refused to be quieted by an
Act of Parliament, and in November 1555, the tenths and first-fruits
which Henry had seized, and Edward had kept were restored to the
Church, together with the value of each ecclesiastical benefice and the
first year’s income of each, worth about a million a year of present
day money.[627] This strain on her already impoverished exchequer
was immense, but in vain her ministers objected that the money was
sorely needed to support the dignity of the Crown, the Queen replied
characteristically, “I would rather lose ten such crowns, than place my
soul in peril”.[628] Gardiner pledged himself to secure the consent
of Parliament to this renunciation, but his death prevented him, and
Mary herself sent for a deputation from each House, explained her
desire, and the reasons which moved her to restore the Church property
vested in the Crown. A bill was accordingly drawn up. It passed through
the Upper House with only two dissentient voices, and was carried in
the Commons by a majority of 193, against 126 votes. The money thus
restored to its original purpose was placed at the disposal of Cardinal
Pole, to be expended on the augmentation of small livings, on the
support of preachers, and on the foundation of scholarships at the
universities.[629]
It has been frequently made to appear, as if the Queen wished to oblige
all holders of ecclesiastical goods to follow her example, but the
contrary is amply demonstrated by Pole’s correspondence on the subject,
contained in St. Mark’s Library at Venice, and by Mary’s own request to
Paul IV. that he would make no difficulties about restitution.[630]
But having impoverished herself for conscience’ sake, and being
burdened with inherited debts, the Queen was ever after, in the
humiliating position of a suppliant to her people, whenever a fresh
need for funds arose. Philip moreover, who had at first contributed
in a princely fashion, to the revenues of the country, was engaged in
a costly war, while the subsidies which he had received from Spain
were pawned in perpetuity, those of Milan alienated for five years,
those of Naples for seven, and the means of finding money elsewhere
scanty.[631] The English had persistently refused to crown him, and
Mary had apparently been unable to force them to do so; she must prove
her wifely devotion by raising money for his wars, in which case he
would gratify her by going to visit her.
The new loan subscribed by Parliament, in consequence of Gardiner’s
representations, was being raised with great difficulty, thanks to
de Noailles’ manipulation of the opposing members, although Mary
had demanded less than the original sum voted. A fresh device must
therefore be invented if Philip’s wants were to be met. The plan
adopted is described by Michiel as unusual, even unprecedented.
“The Queen,” he wrote on the 25th August 1556, “sent freely to the
lords and gentlemen, the wealthiest and best provided, letters in which
is specified the precise sum demanded of each of them, according to
what the individual might be supposed able to bear, and I am told that
the least is £40 sterling, her Majesty urging all of them to exceed
their means, availing themselves of their property and credit to raise
the sum required by her, as she is in great need, and compelled to
supply herself with funds to enable her to quell the insurrections to
which she is daily subjected. This mode of request has seemed the more
strange and vexatious to everybody as it is unusual and unprecedented,
the device being attributed to the Spanish lords, in order as said by
them publicly, that the King may make use of the money; so it seems
that all (although it be untrue) apologise, under pretence of being
overwhelmed with debts. But opposition will be of little avail, nor
in the end will any one dare obstinately to resist her Majesty’s
desire.”[632]
The general irritation at this measure was increased by the
circumstance, that payment was to be made through the Queen’s
Comptroller, instead of through the Lord High Treasurer, through
a private instead of a public official. But none were taxed over
£100, the lowest sum demanded being £20. Mary told Philip of the
great difficulty she experienced in getting the tax paid, and of the
loud complaints and foul language current on this account, it being
understood that she was either giving him the money, or making use of
it to further the design attributed to the Emperor of going to England,
of crowning his son by force, and of putting pressure on Parliament to
wage war on France, “which,” adds Badoer, “it does not seem inclined to
do”. In the same despatch, Badoer says that Piamontese had told him,
that the Queen had again written very earnestly to the Pope, “not
only to pray and exhort him to abstain from disturbing his Majesty’s
affairs, but to let him know that the people of England from this cause
are greatly encouraged to resume Lutheran opinions”.
Philip, seeing that his affairs in England showed little sign of
progressing in his absence, made a virtue of necessity, and rejoiced
the Queen, by declaring that he would set out as soon as possible,
after the pending departure of the Emperor for Spain. Mary received the
news in a transport of delight, but Pole, who had learned to distrust
Philip’s repeated assurances of his speedy arrival, persuaded her to
await further intelligence, before despatching Pembroke, Arundel and
Paget to the sea coast. He could not dispel the renewed hope which sent
her back to London at Michaelmas, in better health and spirits than for
months before. She took her barge at Lambeth, but before crossing to
St. James’s Palace expressed a desire to visit the Cardinal’s official
residence, and “not only chose to enter it, but ascending the stairs,
had herself conducted by his most illustrious Lordship into his own
chamber, and through the gardens everywhere, staying for luncheon,
with infinite familiarity and kindness, asking two or three times for
Monsignor Priuli[633] who failed to present himself”.
But again Philip’s coming was delayed, and the courier Piamontese
performed wonderful feats of rapid travelling between Brussels and
London, carrying despatches of the utmost weight and significance. “On
Wednesday last,” says Michiel, writing on the 23rd November, “at one
and the same time, Francesco Piamontese returned from Brussels, and
from France the secretary of the Queen’s ambassador there, both one
and the other having travelled with such speed, that the one came from
Paris to London in 25 hours, and the other out and home from Brussels
(although detained there during a day and a half) in five days. Since
their arrival until now, the ministers, and Cardinal Pole may be said
to have been in very close consultation, assembling every day at 6
A.M. well-nigh before day break, until the dinner hour, and after noon
until 6 P.M. or about the second hour of the night according to the
Italian fashion. This proceeding is unusual, and Lord Paget having
been confined to the house by indisposition, for upwards of a month,
they even urged him, on no account to absent himself from the Council
board, and although he apologised, as not being in a state to be able
to go abroad, I understand that what he could not do by word of mouth,
in their presence, was done by him in writing, and that he gave his
opinion about what had been asked him at full length. The speed of the
couriers, and these long and extraordinary consultations, indicate
the gravity and importance of the matter which is being treated so
secretly, that as yet, no one has been able to elicit anything certain
about it, although from conjecture and conversation rather than from
knowledge, many things have been, and still continue to be said,
some persons declaring, that some fresh conspiracy, in virtue of an
understanding with the French, has been discovered, or some design of
the French themselves, on certain places either here or across the
Channel. Others, on the contrary, believe the business to be some
request from the King to the Queen, to the effect that should the
truce be broken, as is feared, war be also waged by England against
France, and if this cannot or will not be done, that at least a subsidy
of money or troops be given, by reason of the great preparations of
the French for Italy, and all the borders; but be it as it may, the
deliberation proceeds so silently, that to know anything more about it
is difficult. It has been determined for the Earl of Pembroke to cross
the Channel, and in two days he will go to Calais, nor is it known
whether he is betaking himself to the King. He has ordered his whole
household to follow, and it is said that from suspicion, all the guards
will be changed.”[634]
On the 1st December, Michiel informed his government that he had
discovered Lord Pembroke’s going to Calais to be caused by the
French having reinforced their cavalry on the borders of Calais and
Guisnes, with a view to a fortress held by the English, named Hammes,
the governor of which was Lord Dudley, brother of the traitor Henry
Dudley, then still in France, and in great favour with the King.[635]
Continuing the same despatch, he says:—
“Three days ago, Miladi Elizabeth arrived from the country, fifteen
miles off (from Hatfield) with a handsome retinue, having with her,
including lords and gentlemen, upwards of 200 horsemen, clad in
her own livery, and dismounted at her own house (Somerset Place)
where she has remained ever since, to the infinite pleasure of this
entire population, though she was not met by any of the lords or
gentlemen of the Court, but many visited her subsequently. Three
days afterwards, she went to the Queen, and according to report was
received very graciously and familiarly. Yesterday, she returned
thither to take leave, having at length had an interview with the
Cardinal, whom she visited even in his own chamber, he never having
seen her until then, although last year, they both resided at the
Court for a whole month, with their apartments very near each other.
It cannot yet be ascertained whether she came for any other purpose
than that of visiting the Queen, she having with great earnestness
solicited to come, and not having been called. With this opportunity,
I (according to the custom of my predecessors) now that she seems to
be in good favour with her Majesty will not fail to visit her before
her departure, not having done so hitherto. Yesterday, the festival
of St. Andrew, in Westminster Abbey, which has been restored to the
monks, the most illustrious Legate and the royal Council (with all the
lords now here, and the nobility of the Court, I also being present,
with a great concourse of people) celebrated the anniversary of the
kingdom’s release from the schism, which took place on that day, and
the twenty-six monks and their abbot made a fine show and procession.
The Queen likewise would have been present, had she not been slightly
indisposed during the last three or four days, on which account
she has not appeared in public, or even in her own chapel at the
palace.”[636]
A week later, he wrote again: “The Queen still remains without going
abroad, distressing herself about her husband’s troubles”.
Elizabeth, unfortunately, left London before Michiel had time to pay
his proposed visit to her, and we are consequently deprived of a
description of the Princess at this period, which his realistic pen
would no doubt have rendered extremely interesting. He was, moreover,
recalled by his Government before the end of the year, and Michiel
Surian, who arrived in England as his successor in March 1557,
continued the official reports of passing events, without, however, the
life-like touches, and vivid colouring of Giovanni Michiel.
At last, it was announced that the King was indeed coming without
further delay. He had set out by the end of the first week in March,
and was met at each important place through which he passed, by two
gentlemen, sent by the Queen, one of whom returned immediately to
Greenwich, where she awaited her husband’s arrival, to bring her news
of him, and enable her to follow his journey stage by stage. “Thursday,
the 18 day of March,” says Machyn, “the King landed at Dover, about
x of the clock in the night.” His courtesy and attention to national
and local customs were as apparent as on his first setting foot in
England, and having inadvertently entered Canterbury Cathedral with
his spurs on, he gracefully paid the fine he had thereby incurred, by
emptying his purse full of gold pieces, into the cap of a young student
who claimed it.[637] After two days spent in retirement at Greenwich,
Philip rode through London to Whitehall, by the side of the Queen, who
was carried in a litter. He had no cause to complain of his reception
by the citizens, and he in his turn did his best to please them, by
pardoning and releasing certain prisoners in the Tower, “nevertheless,
from what I hear,” reported Surian, “the Spaniards are so greatly
hated, that neither his Majesty nor the Queen are well looked on by the
multitude”. On the other hand, all the members of the Privy Council
were his firm friends, “owing,” said the new Venetian ambassador,
“to the great rewards they have had from him, for when last here, he
spent and gave a considerable quantity of money, and distributed vast
revenues in Spain and Flanders, to propitiate the leading people here,
and he found by experience that what my father used to say of this
kingdom was perfectly true, that all, from first to last are venal, and
do anything for money”.[638]
He went on to say that the Count de Feria had assured him, that the
King had so much influence with the Council that he could do with them
what he pleased, and that it was in his Majesty’s power to make the
country wage war against France, when and in what manner he chose.
Surian thought however that Philip would only demand pecuniary help,
in which surmise his shrewdness was at fault. “Thus,” he continued,
”do the affairs of the government proceed at present, and those
of the religion are regulated with less severity, both to avoid
further exasperation of the public mind, as also because, although
few are perhaps really Catholic at heart, everybody nevertheless, in
appearance, makes a show of living religiously, so there is no cause
for proceeding against them.”[639]
Philip’s return, hailed by the Queen and Council, was an occasion of
some embarrassment to Cardinal Pole. On the one hand, he rejoiced
to be free from the burden of secular affairs, that had weighed so
heavily on him, and to be at last able to attend to his archdiocese;
but on the other, his position as Papal Legate, and as a member of the
Sacred College made it impossible for him to meet on terms of amity,
one who was at war with the Pope. In his official capacity he could
not meet Philip at all, and he sent to excuse himself for not going
to visit him; but before leaving for Canterbury, he went secretly,
unattended, and in his private character, to the King’s apartments, at
which proceeding the French King affected to be somewhat scandalised,
declaring it to be “an unbecoming act”. What passed at the interview
did not tend to smooth difficulties with the Pope, or to cause him
to listen more patiently to the Queen’s ceaseless appeals on behalf
of her husband, as the following transcript from a letter of the
Venetian ambassador at the Vatican very well shows. Bernardo Navagero
in describing an audience with Paul IV. on the 8th May 1557, quotes
the Pope’s own words: “The Queen’s ambassador (Sir Edward Carne) who
for a native of those regions is modest and very intelligent, has been
to us in the name of the Queen and of the kingdom, to pray me not to
abandon them, but to remember that it has lately come to our obedience.
We answered him that we love the Queen for her own sake, as she is
good, and has done good works; for the sake of her mother, who honoured
us extremely, when we were sent to that kingdom by Leo,[640] and for
the sake of her grandfather, the late Catholic King, to whom we are
much obliged for the love he bore us, and he was assuredly a worthy
King, nor could we ever have believed that his descendants would have
degenerated so much as Charles and Philip; but we told the Ambassador,
that we would willingly separate the Queen’s cause from that of her—we
know not whether to call him husband, cousin or nephew—and have her
as daughter, bidding her attend to the government of her kingdom, and
not let herself be induced to do anything to our detriment nor to that
of our confederates, as for instance the King of France, for we would
spare neither relations nor friends, but include in our maledictions
and anathemas all those who shall desert the cause of God. Even
yesterday, we had a letter from the Cardinal of England, telling us
that on the arrival of Philip in London, he departed for his bishopric,
and he did well, for he could not in honour remain there. He says that
he visited King Philip in his own name, as he could not do so in ours,
seeing that he has no commission to that effect, as we on the contrary
have revoked the legations, and recalled nuncios, and all the ministers
of the Apostolic See, in the realms of that individual, to deprive
him of the means for doing injury to God and to us. Cardinal Pole also
writes that the said individual told him, he would gladly be reconciled
to us, and that he has provided for his realms so as to prevent their
molestation. This reconciliation fails through him, as _induratum est
cor ejus_, and we believe that he will not reform until his head has
been soundly beaten. God knows that for nothing do we pray Him more
earnestly, than for our quiet, and that of all Christendom, which were
He to grant us, we should close these eyes most contentedly.”[641]
But Mary’s most pressing cause for anxiety was Philip’s determination
to invade France, and to prevail on the English, not only to succour
his army with troops and money, but to consent to an aggressive
alliance, and a formal declaration of war against Henry II. Under
other conditions there would have been nothing repugnant to Mary in an
open rupture with the most Christian King, who from the moment of her
accession had been her secret, powerful and most insidious enemy. He
it was, who by his persistent intrigues was mainly responsible for the
disturbed relations between herself and her people, and nothing short
of honest, open-handed warfare would get rid of the poison with which
he had inoculated the blood of the nation. Greatly as she loved peace,
and ardently as she had desired it, and striven to secure it, she knew
well that it could be bought at too high a price. But war with France,
in the interest of Spain, would, it was clear, be extremely unpopular,
while it would constitute an infringement of one of the articles of her
marriage treaty by which Philip undertook not to involve the country in
his personal quarrel with any Continental power. Nevertheless, he was
closeted early and late with the Privy Council,[642] with the result
that Surian informed the Doge and Venetian Senate on the 21st April,
that the hope of peace with the Pope had come to nothing, and that
there was more talk of war than ever. He went on to say, that no army
would be mustered until the next harvest was gathered in, for never in
memory of man, had there been such scarcity of everything in England,
and that although for a long while, great supplies of grain had been
coming from Denmark and Sweden, and from the Hanse towns, these had
been stopped by the ice, and as there was no means of providing for
the ordinary consumption of the people, either in Flanders or England,
still less could provision be made for so great an army as was then
being mustered.
As late as the beginning of May, Philip, in spite of his influence with
the Council, had only obtained assurances of such support as the nation
was bound to give him, by ancient treaties then still existing, as an
ally of the House of Burgundy. He was to have 5,000 infantry, and 1,000
horse for four months, these to be commanded by the Earl of Pembroke,
Lord Grey, Sir Thomas Cheyne, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, Lord
Montague, and some others, “all of whom were considered good soldiers,
except Montagu, who was appointed because he was rich, and spent
willingly on his troops, who were to serve the King in Flanders”.[643]
Besides the above subsidy, 3,000 additional infantry were to be raised,
in order to garrison the English fortresses on the other side of the
Channel, and in case of need, a fleet was to be fitted out, carrying
6,000 soldiery, half to be paid by Philip, the other half by England.
It was announced that the English Government had no intention of
breaking the peace with France, the troops being sent to Flanders by
virtue of the old treaty between England and those provinces, and
solely to defend the King’s States, and not to invade France. It was
also pointed out, that the additional 3,000 soldiers were merely
for the defence of Calais and its frontiers, and that the fleet was
to secure the passage of the Channel, and not to attempt any act of
aggression.[644]
Possibly no more than this may have been intended, in spite of
Philip’s demands, but the French believing or affecting to believe
that a rupture was imminent, reinforced all their places on the
English frontier, with ammunition, victuals and soldiers. They also
sent a force to Scotland, sufficient not only for the defence of the
Scottish border, but capable of attacking England on that side.[645]
Even then the actual breaking out of war with England was due to
a renewal of Henry’s connivance with English traitors and rebels.
Dudley and his friends, among whom was Thomas Stafford, grandson of
the last Duke of Buckingham, had been quietly waiting in France,
till it should be convenient for the King to employ them, and the
moment having now arrived, he entered into negotiations with them,
and with certain families of the reformed faith, settled in and about
Calais, for delivering the English fortresses, Hammes and Guisnes,
into the hands of the French.[646] The design failed, but a few days
later, another, not less daring, was attempted by Stafford. Having
obtained two French ships, he sailed for England, with a handful of
English, Scotch and French desperadoes, about 100 in all, and landing
on the coast of Yorkshire, seized Scarborough Castle. He issued a
proclamation, assuming the titles of protector and governor of the
realm, and declared that he was come to deliver his countrymen from
the tyranny of strangers and “to defeat the most devilish devices of
Mary, unrightful and unworthy queen”. She had, he pretended, forfeited
her claim to the sceptre by her marriage with a Spaniard, who lavished
the national treasures on his countrymen, and was resolved to deliver
into their hands twelve of the strongest fortresses of the kingdom.
As for himself, he was determined to die bravely in the field, rather
than see his country enslaved; and he called on all loyal Englishmen to
rally round the standard of independence which he had set up, and to
fight for the preservation of their lives, lands, wives, children and
treasures.[647]
To his mortification, not a man answered the summons—the north was
more loyal than the traitors suspected, and Wotton, Mary’s ambassador
in France, disclosed the plot before Henry had time to send aid to his
confederates. The Earl of Westmorland marched to Scarborough with a
considerable force, and Stafford, whose language had been so bold, at
once surrendered at discretion, and met with the punishment he richly
deserved, together with about twenty-five other persons implicated in
the affair.[648]
The only result of the enterprise was, that instead of engaging in
the war with France, as an ally of Philip, England was now a principal
in the quarrel, the Council having resolved that the time had come
for demanding satisfaction for the injuries offered to Mary by the
King of France.[649] Nevertheless, when on the 7th June 1557, the
English herald announced the declaration of war to Henry, he replied:
“I foresaw this war; it is the pledge of the Queen of England’s
submission to the will of her husband.”[650] He immediately recalled
his ambassador, François de Noailles, Bishop of Acqs, who had replaced
his brother Antoine; but Mary had already dismissed him herself.[651]
The Bishop took the opportunity at Calais, to examine the state of the
fortifications, and the likelihood of its withstanding a bombardment.
The result of his investigation was a report to the French King, to
the effect that a considerable portion of the rampart lay in ruins,
and that the boasted strength of the place consisted only in its
reputation. In its present condition it offered, said the ambassador,
seconded by the Governor of Boulogne, an easy conquest to a sudden and
unexpected assailant.[652] “Here, in the meanwhile,” wrote Surian on
the 1st June, “they are expecting the succours from Spain which do not
make their appearance, and unless they be speedy and considerable, they
will show by experience what a gross blunder it is to circulate reports
of making great preparations, and not verifying them by facts, as it
merely rouses the enemy, rendering them more and more ready for attack
and defence.” But before concluding his despatch, he adds, “whilst
writing this I hear that the Admiral of England has put to sea with his
fleet, in order to meet the one expected from Spain. He has a total of
twenty-three large ships well supplied with artillery and soldiers; so
the French fleet being greatly inferior in the number and quality of
its vessels, and in the activity of its sailors, and in strength, will
be unable to show itself, and do any damage in these seas.”[653]
Philip, who had not been five months in England, re-embarked for
Flanders, on the 3rd July. Mary accompanied him as far as Dover, and
there took leave of him in a heartrending farewell. They never met
again.
Surian had been appointed ambassador to Philip, and therefore left
England with him; and in spite of Mary’s representations to the
Signory, there was afterwards no resident Venetian envoy in England,
Surian doing duty to both King and Queen.
The first important feature in the new campaign was the victory of
St. Quentin, which was taken by storm by the Spaniards, aided by Lord
Pembroke, and between 7,000 and 8,000 English soldiers. When the news
reached London “was _Te Deum laudamus_ sung and ringing solemnly;
at night bonfires and drinking in every street in London, thanking
be to God Almighty that gives the victory”.[654] Cardinal Pole, in
congratulating Philip, said, “The most serene Queen has also evinced
great gladness at this, principally from the testimony offered by your
Majesty on this occasion, of your piety, to the glory of God and to His
true honour, especially because it took place with so little loss of
life, which grace she always prays His divine Majesty to grant you in
all your victories. Here, we are anxiously expecting news of some good
agreement with his Holiness, which may our Lord God deign to grant, and
ever have your Majesty in His keeping, and for His service favour your
Majesty, whose hand I humbly kiss.”[655]
The victory of St. Quentin did actually lead, as Pole so ardently
desired, to peace with the Pope, but also indirectly to the loss of
Calais. A brief survey of Philip’s war with Paul IV. will make this
clear. Philip had always repudiated any other intention, in carrying on
hostilities against the Pope, than that of protecting the kingdom of
Naples against molestation.[656] The campaign opened by the seizure,
in September 1556, of Pontecorvo, and several other small towns in
the Papal States, by the Duke of Alva, Philip’s celebrated general.
A truce was concluded for forty days, under the walls of Ostia, and
Alva entered Naples in triumph. In the meantime, the French army,
under the Duke of Guise, had marched into Italy, and had joined hands
with the Pope. The truce having expired, and the two armies being
encamped within a few miles of each other, before Civitella, Guise
judged that Alva’s force was too overwhelming for him to risk a
battle, and retreated, leaving the kingdom of Naples to the Spaniards.
The Pope, alarmed by the success of the Colonnas, who were fighting
on the Spanish side, summoned the Duke of Guise to Rome, to defend
the Holy City. But misunderstandings arose daily between the Pope
and his French allies. He evinced a great desire for peace, and the
Florentine ambassador sent an express to his Duke, urging him to exhort
the King of Spain to adjust matters with his Holiness, by giving him
some satisfaction before the world, “the old man desiring nothing
else”.[657] At this juncture, Philip won the battle of St. Quentin,
and took the town by storm, upon which the King of France, seeing
that he would need all the strength he could muster, to oppose the
Spaniards and English combined, recalled Guise from Italy, and the Pope
was obliged to come to terms with Alva. Escorted by the Papal guard,
Philip’s _generalissimo_ entered Rome on the 27th September 1557, and
on reaching the Vatican, fell on his knees before the Pope and craved
his pardon for the offence of having borne arms against the Church, his
master having already declared, and probably with truth, that he would
never have commenced hostilities, could he have secured his kingdom of
Naples by any other means.
The Duke of Guise was now free to oppose Philip’s inroads into France.
By the month of October, Philip had three French fortresses in his
possession, namely, St. Quentin, Hammes and Catelet; and Henry’s plan
was to harass him in as many quarters as possible, in the hope that
being obliged to divide his forces, he would be inferior to his enemy
in each one of them. His further design was to hamper Mary, and prevent
her from sending reinforcements across the Channel. With this object
the French King despatched 10,000 infantry-men, and a company of horse
to the Queen Regent of Scotland, who hereupon entered Berwick-on-Tweed,
and occupied it, at the same time ravaging the Borders.
Flattering himself that Henry would disband, in face of the rigorous
winter, Philip returned to Brussels, convoked the States, and required
them to levy a subsidy in money, for carrying on the war in the spring.
The utmost that could be obtained from them was 800,000 crowns, far too
small a sum for maintaining his troops, and defending his conquered
fortresses in the midst of an enemy’s country.
If the victory of St. Quentin was the principal feature of the first
campaign, the loss of Calais marked the second with disaster. The first
note of alarm came from England, in a letter from Cardinal Pole to the
King, dated the 4th January 1558. It proved not only the prelude to
worse news, but testified to the spirit in which Mary was prepared to
meet the crowning calamity of her life.
“Although I wrote to your Majesty yesterday, in reply to what you
were pleased to write to me on the 24th ultimo, yet nevertheless
having heard to-day of the loss of Risbank near Calais (taken on the
3rd) I will not omit telling you how in an untoward circumstance, the
most serene Queen has shown her usual firmness, which has comforted
me the more, as I was at first anxious, lest such unexpected news
might seriously agitate her Majesty, especially as we now hope she
is pregnant; but having seen not only that she was not in the least
disheartened by this news, but that immediately on hearing it, she
commenced arranging and providing by such means as possible, both
divine and human, for what the present need requires, as also by
ordering supplications and prayers to be made in all the religious
congregations for success, I was much comforted. I have deemed it my
duty to give notice of this to your Majesty, as by your putting forth
your vigorous arm and aid, which we are certain you will do, with
such speed as the present need requires, I have no doubt but that the
Almighty will thus convert everything to His greater glory, and at
the same time to the consolation and honour of your Majesties and
your realms; as I continually pray His divine Majesty’s goodness to
do, and to preserve and prosper your Majesty for the common weal, and
particularly for this kingdom, which is placed under your care and
government.”[658]
On the same day, Lord Grey de Wilton, Governor of Guisnes, wrote to the
Queen as follows:—
“My most bounden duty humbly promised to your Majesty; whereas I
have heretofore always in effect written nothing to your Highness
but good, touching the service and state of your places here, I
am now constrained, with woful heart to signify unto your Majesty
these ensuing. The French have won Newhavenbridge, and thereby
entered into all the Low country, and the marshes between this and
Calais. They have also won Rysbank, whereby they be now master
of that haven. And this last night past, they have placed their
ordnance of battery against Calais, and are encamped upon St.
Peter’s heath before it; so that now I am clean cut off from all
relief and aid, which I looked to have, both out of England and
from Calais, and know not how to have help by any means, either of
man or victuals. There resteth now none other way for the succour
of Calais, and the rest of your Highness’s places on this side,
but a power of men out of England, or from the King’s Majesty,
or from both, without delay, able to distress and keep them from
victuals coming to them, as well by sea as by land, which shall
force them to levy their siege to the battle, or else drive them
to a greater danger. For lack of men out of England, I shall be
forced to abandon the town, and take in the soldiers thereof, for
defence of the castle. I have made as good provision of victuals
as I could by any means out of the country, with which, God
willing I doubt not to defend and keep this place as long as any
man, whatsoever he be, having no better provision and furniture
of men and victuals than I have; wherein your Grace shall well
perceive, that I will not fail to do the duty of a faithful
subject and Captain, although the enemy attempt never so stoutly,
according to the trust reposed in me. I addressed letters
presently to the King’s Majesty by this bearer, most humbly
desiring aid from him, according to the effect aforesaid. I might
now very evil have spared this bringer, my servant and trusty
officer here in this time of service. Howbeit, considering the
great importance of his message, I thought him a meet man for the
purpose, desiring your Majesty to credit him fully, and to hear
him at large, even as directly your Grace would hear me, to open
my mind in this complaint of imminent danger. Thus trusting of
relief and comfort forthwith from your Majesty, for the safeguard
of Calais, and other your places here, I take my leave most humbly
of your Grace.
“At your Highness’s Castle of Guisnes, most assured English, even
to the death, the 4th of January 1557 [8] at seven of the clock
in the morning. Your Majesty’s most humble Servant and obedient
Subject,
“GREY.”[659]
Lord Wentworth, Deputy Governor of Calais, in the absence of the Earl
of Pembroke, who was collecting troops in England, had written on the
2nd, that the French were before Risbank, and that he feared no more
of his despatches would get through, adding, “but I will do what I can
tidily to signify unto your Majesty our state”.[660] Close upon this
followed the news that Risbank had fallen, and Lord Pembroke crossed to
Dunkirk, six leagues from Calais, with 5,000 infantry, hoping to raise
the siege of that place.[661]
In Michiel’s report of England in 1557, the ambassador describes Calais
as having a garrison of 500 of the best soldiers, besides a troop of
fifty horsemen, and as being considered an impregnable fortress, on
account of the inundation with which it could be surrounded, although
certain engineers doubted that it would prove so, if put to the test.
The recent inspection of the town by the French had led them to the
conclusion that its boasted strength was a fable, and that it might
easily be taken by storm; and their chief reason for recalling the
Duke of Guise from Italy was probably, that he might restore this lost
jewel to the French Crown.
Michiel, now Venetian ambassador in France, informed the Doge and
Senate on the 4th January, that on presenting himself before Calais,
M. de Guise made himself master of Risbank, which Michiel describes as
“that part of the town fronting the sea, and which, forming a bank,
receives as it were into an arm or small gulf, the vessels which arrive
there, and which for greater security, withdraw thither under the walls
of the town; and he simultaneously took possession both of the ships
and their crews, and of the hostels which are built there outside, for
the accommodation of the mariners and wayfarers, so that when they
embark or disembark by night, on account of the tides, they may not
have to enter the town”.[662]
Notwithstanding the ease with which Risbank had been captured, the
first attempt to storm the castle of Calais proved ineffectual,
according to the French account, by reason of the fluctuation of the
tide. The assault being made from the ships, which at high-tide, were
on a level with the town, but at the ebb below it, the cannon struck
at low tide six or seven paces below the wall, and the besiegers were
at the mercy of the besieged, who from the ramparts made a convenient
target of them. They also threw up earthworks, and barricades, and
fortified the road between the castle and the town, by placing
artillery there. The duke, therefore, returned to a site above his
first position, “Boulogne in his rear supplying him with provisions,”
and a wood not more than half a league distant affording him plenty of
fuel.
From this position, he, two days later, began bombarding the castle
with sixty pieces of artillery, and Michiel observes that “although
the besieged defend themselves stoutly, it is nevertheless not
authentically understood that the garrison is more numerous than
usual, the governor, as said lately by the King, not having chosen to
admit any one; and notwithstanding a public report, that the Duke of
Savoy in person is coming to succour the place, with a strong body of
cavalry and infantry, the hope of its capture does not in the least
diminish”.[663]
Lord Grey and Lord Wentworth afterwards refuted this charge, and
declared that they sent five messengers to Philip before the appearance
of the French army under Calais, and never received any reply whatever,
which totally disheartened them, in contradiction of what was said,
as to their not having chosen to accept the garrisons offered to
them.[664] Philip, however, cannot reasonably be blamed for the straits
to which the place was reduced. He had never ceased recommending that
Calais should be carefully guarded,[665] and when he heard that the
French were preparing an attack, he insisted that nothing should be
neglected to defeat their projects. His answer to the appeals of the
Governors of Calais and Guisnes was to commission the Duke of Savoy
to levy troops, and to proceed at once to their aid, but the latter
arrived on the scene too late to avert disaster. Within a week of the
assault a wide breach was made in the castle wall, and seeing that all
was lost, Wentworth ordered the garrison to be withdrawn and the towers
to be blown up, at the approach of the enemy. That same evening, when
the tide was low, a company of French soldiers waded across the haven,
but contrary to expectation, no explosion occurred, the engineer to
whom the order had been given excusing himself, on the pretext that the
water dropping from the clothes of the Frenchmen, as they passed over
the train, had wetted the powder, rendering it useless.[666]
The town itself still remained untaken, but on the 8th January, news
was brought to the French court, that while the Duke of Guise was
preparing to storm it, “one of the inhabitants appeared on the ramparts
with a flag of truce, praying the besiegers not to fire, nor to proceed
to further hostilities, as the townspeople were willing to surrender;
so whilst it was being treated to have them at discretion, according
to the Duke’s resolve, as he knew that those who remained were very few
and very weak, he having shortly before at the passes occupied by him,
routed four companies of Spaniards on their march to succour them, they
demanding safety for their properties and persons, he sent Robertet to
assure the King that either at discretion or in some other way, the
town could not fail to be his”.[667]
Eventually, the place surrendered, on condition that the citizens and
garrison should be allowed to depart, with the exception of Wentworth
and fifty others, all the ammunition and merchandise passing as booty
into the hands of the French. Meanwhile, ample reinforcements of troops
and stores lay waiting at Dover, detained there by stress of weather,
none divining that a place, hitherto deemed impregnable, could possibly
succumb within a week. But the French had contemplated the enterprise
for four years, and the fall of Boulogne, in the preceding reign, had
paved the way for them to Calais.[668]
Bonfires were lighted in Paris, two days before the intelligence that
was to plunge England into a stupor of despair reached London. “The x
day of January, heavy news came to England and London, that the French
had won Calais, the which was the heaviest tidings to London and to
England that ever was heard of, for like a traitor it was sold and
delivered unto them.”[669]
“On the 10th, and not previously,” wrote Surian, “the news of the
loss of Calais was received in England, and it is strange that such
important intelligence should scarcely have been conveyed in three
days, whereas the passage is usually made in one. They (a Spanish and
an English messenger) having left so immediately after the receipt of
the news, are unable to know what took place in the kingdom either good
or bad, merely saying that the Queen, when she heard it, determined
to make every possible effort to recover the place, and that besides
the ships now ready to put to sea to succour it, and the troops which
were being mustered, it will be reinforced by the greatest amount the
country can raise, and with the opportunity offered by the session
of Parliament, her Majesty will obtain any sum of money that may be
required to that effect.”[670]
Although the English laboured under a delusion in regard to the
strength of Calais, they were probably right in ascribing its prompt
fall to treachery. The whole region had been a nest of conspirators,
of whom Stafford had left many behind him, when he went to surprise
Scarborough Castle, and they were all in the employ of the King of
France. John Highfield in his letter to Mary, concerning the siege
and loss of Calais, said that the Duke of Savoy had asked him “after
what sort the town was lost”; and he had answered that “the cause was
not only by the weakness of the castle and lack of men,” but also
he thought there was some treason, for as he heard “there were some
escaped out of the town, and the Frenchmen told [him] that they had
intelligence of all our estate within the town”.[671]
Moreover, Sir Edward Carne wrote from Rome, that tidings had come from
Venice, and from Cardinal Trivulci, Papal Legate in Paris, “which last
stated, that the place had been rendered without any battery being laid
to it, or defence made, but by appointment of those within it. If so,
it is the most abominable treason that ever man heard of, and most to
be abhorred.”[672] In the same despatch, he tells the Queen that, “if
she spares either heretics or traitors, she shall but nourish fire in
her own house”.
The first to break the news to Mary was Cardinal Pole, who feared
the effect it might produce on her. But he was able to report to
Philip that, “in this present case her Majesty really shows, that in
generosity of nature and in pardoning she is very like herself,” adding
politely, “and no less connected with your Majesties in this respect,
than she is by ties of blood”.[673] Nevertheless, while she lived,
she never ceased urging the King and her Council to devise some means
for the recovery of Calais, and grievous as was its loss to the whole
realm, it was remarked that the burden of sorrow lay most heavily on
the Queen herself.[674] She declared that if her ministers should dare
to conclude peace with France, without stipulating for the restoration
of that place, they should pay for the concession with their heads; and
on her death-bed she assured the bystanders, that if her breast were
opened after death, the word “Calais” would be found engraven on her
heart.[675]
Philip, less ponderous in action than usual, was not slow to respond
to Mary’s appeals, and at once proposed to join a given number of
Spaniards to an equal number of Englishmen, and to set about the
recovery of the town and castle before the French had time to repair
the damages to the castle walls. As Surian had foretold, money was
speedily forthcoming, the nation being stirred to the quick. The clergy
granted a subsidy of eight shillings in the pound, the laity one of
four shillings on lands, and two and eightpence on goods, besides a
fifteenth and tenth, the whole to be collected in nine months. Seven
thousand men were levied and trained for service in the field, and a
fleet of 140 ships sailed out of Portsmouth harbour, in the spring. But
Philip’s offer was for various reasons declined, the Queen’s ministers
preferring to fortify the coast of Devonshire against an expected
descent by Dudley, and to send an expedition to attack the French
harbour of Brest, an alternative which the King had himself proposed,
and seconded with a strong contingent of Flemish troops. The expedition
resulted in failure, but the English Admiral Malin, by supporting the
Count of Egmont, in an engagement with the French, on the banks of
the Aa, gained him a splendid victory. In this encounter the French
lost 5,000 men, their gallant Marshal de Fermes and many distinguished
officers being taken prisoners. Peace would then undoubtedly have
resulted from the conferences which took place in the Abbey of Cercamp,
between Philip and Henry, had not the King of Spain felt bound in
honour to make the restoration of Calais an indispensable condition.
With the fall of Guisnes, three weeks after that of Calais, England
lost for ever her last foothold of territory on the French side of the
Channel. The place was so well defended “that had the like been done
by Calais,” wrote Surian, “that fortress had never been lost,” and he
goes on to say that “Lord Grey showed incredible valour, for although
he had been badly wounded in the assault, he nevertheless, with very
great courage, stood firm to the defence, until he found himself
fainting; and even then, rather to avoid alarming the soldiers than
from any personal consideration, had himself carried, all bleeding into
a house near at hand; but scarcely had he got there when he was told
that the enemy had taken the ravelin, and were attacking the bastions;
then half dead as he was, he made his men take him on a chair, to the
scene of action, where he so increased the courage and resolution
of the soldiery, that the French were doubtful of victory; but the
assault becoming more vigorous, Lord Grey seeing that all his men
were worsted,[676] and that there was no remedy, demanded terms, and
it having been granted him, that his soldiers might go out free with
their arms, and what they could carry, he surrendered himself prisoner,
the glory he thus obtained exceeding the infamy of those who through
negligence or treachery lost Calais, which is close to Guisnes”.[677]
Lord Grey remained a prisoner in the hands of Prince Strozzi, by whom
he was sold for 8,000 crowns to the Count de la Rochefoucauld, who had
been captured at the battle of St. Quentin. La Rochefoucauld demanded
25,000 crowns as Lord Grey’s ransom, a sum which would go a long way
to pay his own ransom of 30,000 crowns. But the money, when raised,
so weakened Lord Grey’s estate, that the hero of Guisnes was obliged
to sell his ancestral castle of Wilton-upon-Wye to his nephew, Charles
Bridges, second son of John, first Lord Chandos.[678] The fortress of
Hammes fell with Guisnes, and both places were razed to the ground by
the French.
It would seem that Mary might reasonably have hoped, whatever her
troubles from other sources, to have enjoyed the favour and confidence
of the Roman Pontiff. All her life long, most of her trials had
resulted from an unswerving devotion to the Holy See, and now the time
had come, when she might expect to reap a rich reward for her faith and
fidelity. Julius III. had sent her the Golden Rose, as an expression of
his affection and esteem, and Paul IV., throughout his differences with
Philip, and however severe his language with reference to the Catholic
King, always disassociated Mary from the blame which he lavished
freely on her consort. Even when he recalled his representatives, in
the length and breadth of Philip’s dominions, and made no exception
of Cardinal Pole, it was thought that Mary’s protests would procure a
speedy revocation of the decree, so far as it affected her kinsman and
principal adviser. But peace was ultimately made between Philip and the
Holy See, and Pole’s recall as legate _a latere_ from a country whose
King was at war with the Head of the Church, was found to be but one
aspect of a contest in which Mary, to her grief and vexation, found
herself suddenly involved.
As Cardinal Caraffa, Paul IV. had at one time expressed doubt as to
Pole’s orthodoxy, and although since his elevation to the Papacy, he
had acknowledged that this suspicion had been unfounded, repeatedly
expressing his high opinion of the English Cardinal, he once more
allowed the doubt to gain possession of his mind. Possibly Pole’s
enemies, and the Queen’s, may have contrived to revive the suspicion
for their own ends—the conspiracy in England was hydra-headed—but
the whole case is enveloped in obscurity, and the only certainty
is, that when Cardinal Morone was arrested in Rome on a charge of
Lutheranism, Pole was accused of sharing his friend’s heterodoxy. He
defended himself in various letters to the Pope,[679] and represented
that a legate was necessary in the actual state of affairs in England,
although it was immaterial whether that office were filled by himself
or by another. Mary expostulated directly by letters, and also through
her ambassador in Rome, Sir Edward Carne. Paul replied by creating
Friar Peto, a Cardinal, and giving him the English legation. Peto had
formerly distinguished himself by a firm and bold adhesion to Queen
Katharine’s cause, for which he had incurred Henry’s anger, and would
no doubt have shared Friar Forest’s fate, had he not fled to the Low
Countries. He was afterwards a chaplain in Cardinal Pole’s household,
where he attracted the attention of the Pope, by the great austerity of
his life. But he was now a very old man, and scarcely fit for active
service, and the appointment caused much surprise in Rome. In an
interview with the English ambassador, Paul expatiated on the goodness
and learning of the new Cardinal, and said that he hoped what he had
done would be agreeable to her most serene Majesty, and beneficial to
the whole kingdom. Carne replied that, as for Friar Peto personally,
he was willing to believe in his virtue and learning, but that he
was old, and could not bear fatigue, and would merely remain in his
cell praying; and that it would scarcely please the Queen to have the
legation taken away from one so nearly related to her, and to whom she
was so much attached, and to see it conferred on a decrepit friar, who
although he had once confessed her Majesty,[680] it was only before
she had attained her seventh year. As for benefiting the kingdom, the
people, Carne declared, esteemed no one, who was not of very noble
lineage, or very wealthy, or powerful through armed retainers and
dependent on the Crown; the friar having none of these prerogatives, no
respect would be paid to him.
But the Pope only replied to these objections, that he regretted not
being able to do otherwise, as he wished to have Cardinal Pole in Rome,
and to avail himself of his advice and assistance.[681]
No one felt his incompetence for the dignity and office conferred upon
him more than Friar Peto himself, and he entreated the Pontiff to be
allowed to decline them, as too great a burden for his old and feeble
shoulders. In the meanwhile, Mary wrote that although his Holiness had
not instantly granted her request, she believed that he would do so,
like the Lord, who when entreated more than once, at length satisfies
those who pray to Him heartily. In like manner, she again prayed and
supplicated the Holy Father to restore the legation in the person of
Cardinal Pole, and to pardon her, if she professed to know the men who
were good for the government of her kingdom, better than the Pope, and
also, if she wondered, that a legate, after being confirmed by him, and
after the performance of so many good works, whereby it might be truly
said, that through him alone England had resumed her obedience to the
Church, should be recalled without cause. The Queen further protested
that should any disturbance take place in England, it would be on this
account, but that she would do her utmost to prevent it.[682]
This letter Carne delivered to the Pope, whose expression while reading
it, showed extreme exasperation; he also presented another protest
from Friar Peto, and then said that he besought his Holiness, seeing
the Queen’s submission and reverence for him to be such, as would not
have been shown to him by any other sovereign, that he would be pleased
to grant her demand. After a long silence, the Pope declared that the
matter was one of very great importance, that he would confer with the
Cardinals, and give him a reply.
All that came of this conference was a summons to Pole to proceed
to Rome forthwith, to answer the charges brought against him by the
Inquisition, and a protest from Mary, that his trial should take
place in England, while Peto, invested with all the powers hitherto
exercised by Pole, was to take his place at once.
In order not to place herself in open opposition to the Pope, and yet
not to yield in a matter which appeared to her to involve the most
serious consequences, Mary had recourse to a diplomatic quibble, not
unprecedented in history. She gave orders that every courier from the
continent should be detained, and searched, on his arrival at any
English port, and when the Papal messenger reached Calais, on his way
to England, he was arrested and deprived of his despatches. In this
way, although Mary knew, from private letters, of Peto’s appointment
and of Pole’s recall, she never received the official notification
of either. The Papal brief addressed to Pole disappeared at the same
time, while Peto never received the bull which appointed him legate.
But the Cardinal ceased to exercise his functions as legate _a latere_,
although he retained those of _legatus natus_, which belonged to the
Archbishopric of Canterbury. He sent his chancellor Ormanetto to Rome
to represent him. Ormanetto arrived just as peace was being concluded
between Philip and the Holy See, and was kindly received; but the case
was referred by the Pope to his nephew Cardinal Caraffa, Papal Nuncio
at Brussels. Caraffa required that both Pole and Peto should be allowed
to go to Rome, the one to clear himself from the charge of heresy, the
other, that he might aid the Pope with his counsel. But Mary refused to
let Pole go, and the situation thus constituted only ceased to exist at
the death, a few months later, of every one concerned in it.[683] The
charge against Pole appears to have been of the flimsiest nature. It
was never substantiated, but it served the purpose of the moment, to
oppose an additional barrier to public peace and concord. It has in no
way affected his reputation for orthodoxy, and he stands out in history
as the model of a devout, loyal, upright Englishman.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 626: Michiel’s Report on England; Cotton MS., Nero B. vii.,
Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 627: Cobbett, _History of the Reformation_, edited by the
Rev. F. A. Gasquet, O.S.B., p. 193.]
[Footnote 628: Burnet, _History of the Reformation_, vol. ii., pt. ii.,
p. 495.]
[Footnote 629: Lingard, vol. v., p. 494.]
[Footnote 630: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 217.]
[Footnote 631: Sorranzo to the Doge, _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i.,
619.]
[Footnote 632: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 585.]
[Footnote 633: Cardinal Pole’s life-long friend, who had followed him
from Italy.]
[Footnote 634: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 723.]
[Footnote 635: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 743.]
[Footnote 636: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. i., 743.]
[Footnote 637: Kervyn de Lettenhove, _Relations Politiques des Pays Bas
et de l’Angleterre_ (Josse de Courteville au Président Viglius), p. 60.]
[Footnote 638: Antonio Surian, the father of Michiel Surian, had been
ambassador in England from July 1519 to September 1523.]
[Footnote 639: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 852.]
[Footnote 640: Paul IV. was nuncio in England, as Cardinal Caraffa,
from February 1514 till the spring of 1516.]
[Footnote 641: Letter Book, Ven. Archives, _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt.
ii., 880.]
[Footnote 642: Lettre de Courteville, _Relations Politiques des Pays
Bas et de l’Angleterre_, p. 66.]
[Footnote 643: Surian to the Doge and Senate, _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi.,
pt. ii., 873.]
[Footnote 644: _Ibid._ The proof that this levying of troops to help
Philip was not unpopular is furnished by Surian’s despatch of the
13th May 1557, in which he says: “The assistance given to the King
continues, for the soldiers who are going to serve his Majesty increase
in number daily, and great part of the nobility of the kingdom are
preparing, some from a longing for novelty, which is peculiar to this
nation, some from rivalry and desire of glory, some to obtain grace
and favour with his Majesty and the Queen; and the general opinion is
that upwards of 10,000 troops will pass into Flanders, although the
number fixed was only 5,000. Thus, excuse can be made to the French,
that there was no breach of the treaty. In addition, there will be
a considerable force on board the fleet and in Calais, and on those
frontiers, so that some 20,000 men will go out of England, who are to
be ready in the course of this month, when the fleet likewise is to
be in order, though it is not known on what day they will cross the
Channel, it having perhaps not yet been fixed, and possibly it will not
take place so soon, from the want of victuals, which is so great as to
be almost incredible.”]
[Footnote 645: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 873. Strype, iii., 358.
The Queen sold Crown property equal to an annual rental of £10,000, the
buyers to pay the money within fourteen days of purchase; the whole
sum was placed in Philip’s hands for the prosecution of the war (_Ven.
Cal._, 891).]
[Footnote 646: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. v., pp. 256, 262, 265.
Heylin, 242.]
[Footnote 647: Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol iii., pt. ii.,
p. 515.]
[Footnote 648: Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 138. As usual,
Elizabeth’s was the name conjured with. Referring to the huge
conspiracy of the preceding year, when her household had not so
entirely escaped the consequences as herself, Clifford, the secretary
of the Duchess of Feria, says: “Hereof by many prescriptions was the
Lady Elizabeth held accessory; which the Queen’s Council would have
examined and chastised, but the king again protected her from this
danger. It was consulted that two Catholic gentlemen should be sent
to her to remain there, and observe what passed, and so were sent Sir
Thomas Pope and Mr. Robert Gage. But the lady by her wary carriage,
her courteous behaviour and cunning, and by her public profession of
Catholic religion with shew of zeal did deceive these gentlemen. Before
the year was ended, underhand she had intelligence with Mr. Thomas
Stafford, who then exiled in France suddenly coming into England should
title himself king (for that he was descended from the house of the
dukes of Buckingham) and should marry with the Lady Elizabeth; they
supposing themselves strong enough against Queen Mary. It was not long
before Mr. Stafford put this in execution; for coming out of France
only with forty men on 24th April, 1557, and took Scarborough Castle,
with hope that either the Lady Elizabeth would send her forces to
fetch him or with them to come to him herself. But when by the Earl of
Westmoreland he was intercepted, sent to London and beheaded, and some
others of his faction hanged, the relics of this crime remained upon
the Lady Elizabeth. It was her luck that at this time King Philip had
returned from Flanders into England, by whose singular favour she again
escaped this plunge” (_Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria_, p. 89).]
[Footnote 649: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 926, 940.]
[Footnote 650: Leti, i., xii.]
[Footnote 651: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 940.]
[Footnote 652: Lingard, vol. v., p. 511.]
[Footnote 653: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 912.]
[Footnote 654: Machyn, _Diary_, p. 147.]
[Footnote 655: London, 2nd September 1557, MS., St. Mark’s Library,
Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., p. 187. It was universally admitted that Philip
distinguished himself by the most humane conduct towards the
inhabitants of St. Quentin.]
[Footnote 656: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 934.]
[Footnote 657: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 921.]
[Footnote 658: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1126.]
[Footnote 659: Hardwicke, _Miscellaneous State Papers_, vol. i., p.
113.]
[Footnote 660: _Ibid._, p. 112.]
[Footnote 661: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1130: Surian to the
Doge.]
[Footnote 662: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1124.]
[Footnote 663: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1124.]
[Footnote 664: _Ibid._, 1159.]
[Footnote 665: Secret. de Estado, Leg. 811, Simancas Arch., Letter to
the Chief Magistrate, Debetis, of Calais.]
[Footnote 666: Holinshed, 1135.]
[Footnote 667: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1131.]
[Footnote 668: Philip II. to the Comte de Feria, Brussels, 4th January
1558, Simancas Arch.]
[Footnote 669: Machyn, p. 162.]
[Footnote 670: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1146.]
[Footnote 671: Hardwicke, _Misc. State Papers_, vol. i., p. 119.]
[Footnote 672: Turnbull, Foreign Calendar, Mary, 28th January, 1558, p.
361.]
[Footnote 673: MS., St. Mark’s Library, Venice, Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., p.
192.]
[Footnote 674: Stow, _Annals_, p. 632.]
[Footnote 675: Gonzales, _Memorias de la real Academia de la Historia_,
vii., 257, Madrid, 1832.]
[Footnote 676: The word in the original is _maltratti_, literally,
knocked about or maltreated.]
[Footnote 677: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1152.]
[Footnote 678: Brantôme, art. “Strozzi,” Collin’s _Peerage_, vol. iii.,
p. 343.]
[Footnote 679: MS., St. Mark’s Library, Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., pp. 224-26.
Strype, iii., 231. Burnet, ii., 315.]
[Footnote 680: One of the reasons advanced for Peto’s promotion was the
fact that he had been the Queen’s confessor.]
[Footnote 681: Navagero to the Doge, Letter-Book, Ven. Arch., 18th June
1557.]
[Footnote 682: Same to same, _ibid._, 5th August 1557.]
[Footnote 683: Lingard, vol. v., p. 517.]
CHAPTER XVI.
AT EVENTIDE.
1558.
Grief, anxiety and disappointment, perpetually assailing a constitution
never one of the strongest, brought the Queen to her life’s end before
she was forty-three. If her naturally hopeful and buoyant temperament
helped her through her bitterest trials, it was a fertile source of
sorrows, as one by one, all the things upon which she had set her
heart, collapsed like the fabric of a dream.
The loss of Calais inflicted the first mortal blow upon her enfeebled
health, but its poignancy was for a time softened by the recurrence of
the persistent hope, that even now she was about to give birth to an
heir. She had waited till that hope seemed like certainty, and on the
eve of realisation, before announcing it to Philip. To leave issue, and
so secure a Catholic succession, had been the main incentive to her
marriage; she clung to the prospect as a drowning man to a plank, and
when it failed her, she would have despaired, had she not been uplifted
by the faith and resignation that were stronger than all her trouble.
Philip flattering her delusion had sent de Feria to congratulate her on
her condition, assuring her that nothing could better console him for
the loss of Calais.
Gomez Suarez de Figuera, Count, afterwards Duke, of Feria, destined to
play an important part in English affairs during the next few months,
was, in so far as Philip ever unbent and allowed himself the luxury
of a friend, his most confidential adviser, remarkably outspoken and
unceremonious. He had accompanied the King from Spain, and was the
one Spaniard who had followed his master’s injunction to the letter,
to adopt a manner of life in conformity with English customs and
prejudices. So literally did he obey, that he sought and obtained the
hand of the beautiful Jane Dormer, the Queen’s favourite, and most
trusted, attendant and companion.
In the various letters written by de Feria to Philip, on the Count’s
return to England in the spring of 1558, he tells him how greatly
Mary has lost in power and influence, during the few months that
have elapsed since the King’s departure. The partisans of the new
doctrines are beginning to hold up their heads again, and since the
recent disasters, the people, who formerly frequented the churches
through obedience or fear, are now conspicuous by their absence. This
was no exaggeration, for the loss of Calais was more fatal to Mary’s
government, than anything that had gone before.[684]
Persecution of the heretics had made it unpopular; misfortune caused
it to be despised. Had the Queen possessed the physical strength and
energy she had shown at the time of Wyatt’s rebellion, she might still
have rallied round her an enthusiastic army, inspired by devotion and
loyalty, to dare all for the recovery of the lost fortresses that were
the key to France. But the sands of life were running low, and all she
could do was to appeal to Philip, trusting that he was England’s truest
friend. De Feria told him that she bore even the privation of his
society patiently, understanding how grave were the circumstances which
detained him in Flanders.
Nevertheless, she had ordered the fleet to cruise between Dunkirk and
Dover, in the hope that he would come. By degrees, she was forced to
recognise, that this hope too was a delusion, and she listened to de
Feria when, in obedience to Philip’s instructions, he suggested that
as the King was prevented from undertaking the journey, it would be
well to send the Admiral, Lord Clinton, to him. His Majesty could thus
communicate to him his displeasure against the Queen’s councillors,
for their neglect in allowing Calais to be taken, and in affording him
so little help. This interview with de Feria took place at Lambeth.
Mary was on her way to St. James’s, and being ill, had broken her
journey at the Cardinal’s palace. She expressed her willingness to let
Clinton go, somewhat to the surprise of de Feria, who thought she would
have shown some irritation at the proposal. It was tantamount to an
announcement, that she would see her husband’s face no more.
In the Cecil papers at Hatfield, is a Memorandum drawn up by Lord
Clinton, and entitled “The Cause I Was Sent for to Brussels,” all the
items enumerated referring to questions concerning the harassing of
the French coast by the English, and the reasons, for and against,
attempting the reconquest of Calais.
De Feria had as yet not ventured to seek an interview with Elizabeth,
fearing thereby to displease the Queen, but he sent his excuses to
the Princess, and meanwhile begged Philip to instruct him, whether he
should pay her a visit or not. Philip ordered him to do so, and on the
23rd June, the diplomatic Spaniard wrote that he had every reason to be
well contented with the interview which she had granted him, and would
communicate _viva voce_ what had passed between them.[685]
This matter, too important to be penned, undoubtedly concerned the
succession, and Philip’s promise of support, in case Elizabeth needed
it, to make good her claim to the throne in the event of Mary’s death.
De Feria returned to Brussels, and Philip neither came nor wrote. It
was said that his coldness and indifference were hurrying the Queen to
her grave. Contrary to her usual symptoms, when attacked by illness,
she was devoured by fever, and wearied by sleepless nights. All who
surrounded her became conscious that there was something new and
alarming in her condition. The first indication of this occurs in a
letter from Cardinal Pole to the King, dated the 6th September, when
she had partially recovered:—
“Don Juan de Acunha will report the particulars of the Queen’s
indisposition, and how our Lord God granted us the grace four days
ago, to free her from all feverish symptoms, and as her Majesty is
not liable to them, they could not but cause us much anxiety; but the
physicians were and are of opinion that through this malady, she will
obtain relief from her habitual indisposition; and may it thus please
the goodness of God, and may He preserve her Majesty for the welfare
of this realm. During her malady, the Queen did not fail to take the
greatest care of herself, following the advice of the physicians,
and by continuing to do so, it is hoped that she will recover, and
daily more and more establish her health; a result to which nothing
can contribute more, than to receive frequent good news of his
Majesty.”[686]
Pole mentions having himself been ill of a quartan ague which cannot
but be regarded as serious at his age, and with his constitution, but
he is resigned to what Divine Providence shall be pleased to ordain for
him. In a further letter, he recommends to Philip certain individuals
of his household, for whom he has not the means to provide out of his
own substance.[687]
The improvement in Mary’s state was not long maintained, and on the
29th October, Surian wrote the following important letter to the Doge,
from Brussels:—
“A few days ago, his Majesty received news from England that the Queen
was grievously ill, and her life in danger, which intelligence, most
especially at the present moment being of very great importance, so
disquieted his Majesty, and all these lords, that it was immediately
determined to send the Count de Feria to visit the Queen, in the name
of her consort, and to treat another affair which I will narrate
hereunder; but as when the Count was about to depart, a fresh advice
arrived, that her Majesty’s health had improved, he therefore delayed
his departure for three or four days longer, and in the meanwhile, his
household at Brussels is preparing to cross over with him to England, a
sign that he will not return hither so speedily.
“Now the matter to be treated by him is the marriage of Miladi
Elizabeth, to keep that kingdom in any event in the hands of a person
in his Majesty’s confidence. Last year King Philip gave an order to
this effect to his confessor, who is very dear to the Queen, he laying
before her all the considerations both of religion and piety, and of
the safety of the realms, and to prevent the evils which might occur,
were the Lady Elizabeth, seeing herself slighted, to choose after her
Majesty’s death, or perhaps even during her lifetime, to take for her
husband, some individual who might convulse the whole kingdom into
confusion. For many days, during which the confessor treated this
business, he found the Queen utterly averse to give Lady Elizabeth any
hope of the succession, obstinately maintaining that she was neither
her sister, nor the daughter of the Queen’s father, King Henry, nor
would she hear of favouring her, as she was born of an infamous woman,
who had so outraged the Queen, her mother and herself. Notwithstanding
this, the confessor assiduously and adroitly persevering in this
design, effected so much, that her Majesty consented to do what the
King wished, he expressing great satisfaction at this; but two days
later, the Queen changed her mind, and the confessor lays the blame on
Cardinal Pole, who, as the project had not been communicated to him,
may have performed some contrary office, ignoring that such was the
will of the King. Now that things have been in such danger, owing to
the Queen’s malady, they are sending the Count de Feria, that he may
try and revive this project, and realize it, but I do not yet know
whether with the Duke of Savoy or others, nor can it be known for
certain, until this peace is concluded or excluded; but the Count’s
instructions purport that he is to try and dispose the Queen to consent
to Lady Elizabeth being married as her sister, and with the hope of
succeeding to the crown, this negotiation having to be treated with
the greatest possible secrecy, because these lords suspect, that were
the French to come to know it, they would easily find means to thwart
the project, as the greater part of England is opposed to the Queen,
and most hostile to King Philip and his dependants, and much inclined
towards Miladi Elizabeth, who has always shown greater liking for the
French faction, than for this other, being thus habituated in the time
of her brother, King Edward, when at the summit of her grandeur.”[688]
The King of Sweden had, during the preceding summer, sent a proposal
for Elizabeth’s hand, and Mary had shown some displeasure which was
shared by Philip, at the fact that his Majesty had not presented his
demand in the ordinary way, through the Queen. But Elizabeth had
refused him, and while the subject of her sister’s religion mainly
preoccupied Mary during the illness which she felt would end in death,
that of his sister-in-law’s marriage concerned Philip still more deeply.
In _The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria_ it is recorded,[689]
that “Queen Mary in her last sickness sent Commissioners to examine her
[Elizabeth] about religion; to whom she answered, ‘Is it not possible
that the queen will be persuaded I am a Catholic, having so often
protested it?’ and thereupon did swear and vow that she was a Catholic.
This is answerable to what Mr. Camden saith, and is likewise confirmed
by the Duke of Feria’s letter to the king, who in this sickness of
the queen, visited the Lady Elizabeth. He certified him that she did
profess the Catholic religion, and believed the Real Presence, and was
not like to make any alteration for the principal points of religion.”
The same writer gives a pathetic account of Mary’s end, and of her
constant solicitude for others, which being obtained from Jane Dormer
herself, must be regarded as authentic. It is necessary to dwell at
some length on every known detail of this period, as some writers
have given a highly coloured, grotesque, and altogether imaginative
account of the Queen’s declining days. Clifford relates that “When it
chanced that Jane was not well, as that she could not well attend upon
the Queen, it is strange, the care and regard her Majesty had of her,
more like a mother or sister, than her queen and mistress. As in the
last days of this blessed queen, she being at Hampton Court, and to
remove to London, Jane having some indisposition, her Majesty would not
suffer her to go in the barge by water, but sent her by land, in her
own litter, and her physician to attend her. And being come to London,
the first that she asked for was Jane Dormer, who met her at the
stairfoot, told her that she was reasonably well. The queen answered,
‘So am not I,’ being about the end of August 1558. So took her chamber
and never came abroad again.
“At that time the king was in Flanders about his wars, made upon the
frontiers of France, who understanding the Queen’s sickness, being then
with his army before Dourlens, sent away the Duke of Feria, to serve
and assist her in all that should be requisite. It pleased Almighty
God, that this sickness was her last, increasing daily, until it
brought her to a better life. Jane was continually about the Queen,
not yet married, for the Queen would not have her marry, until the
king was returned from Flanders; which occasioned the want of great
gifts and rich endowments, wherewith the Queen had determined, and
promised to honour the marriage, whereof did her Majesty complain. She
finding herself languishing to death, told Jane, she would have been
glad to have seen her marriage had been effected in her days; but God
Almighty would otherwise dispose, and being sick and the king absent,
she was not in case to do what she would. Her sickness was such as
made the whole realm to mourn, yet passed by her with most Christian
patience. She comforted those of them that grieved about her; she
told them what good dreams she had, seeing many little children, like
angels play before her, singing pleasing notes, giving her more than
earthly comfort; and thus persuaded all, ever to have the holy fear of
God before their eyes, which would free them from all evil, and be a
curb to all temptations. She asked them to think that whatsoever came
to them was by God’s permission; and ever to have confidence, that He
would in mercy turn all to the best.”[690]
On the 12th November, Surian wrote the following despatch in cipher to
his Government:—
“There are also advices from England, that the Queen is not well, and
the ambassador from Florence has said to me and many others, that she
is at the point of death, as known throughout the court, much to the
regret of these lords, who for their own reasons would not wish it
to be known that she was even indisposed, but the truth is, that her
malady is evidently incurable, and will end with her life sooner or
later, according to the increase or decrease of her mental anxieties,
which harass her more than the disease, however dangerous it may be.
The King has therefore sent to England the Count de Feria, who being
a most perfect gentleman and agreeable to his Majesty, is also in
great favour with the Queen, he likewise fancying himself popular
there; but may God grant (in case of her Majesty’s death) that he do
not experience to his detriment the perverse nature of those people,
and their most inveterate detestation of foreigners, and above all of
Spaniards. He took with him a Portuguese physician, who has a very
great name in these parts, so as not to fail in whatever could conduce
to the Queen’s health. He will at any rate attempt to carry into effect
the design about which I wrote on the 29th ult. for marrying Miladi
Elizabeth, to some personage in the King’s confidence, in which he
hopes to succeed, but I have not yet been able to hear who will be
proposed. She herself inclines towards a Scottish lord, her kinsman,
a handsome and noble youth, son of a sister of Henry VIII., who was
married in Scotland; he being of the same mind as this lady in the
matter of religion; so were the crown to pass into her hands with that
husband, it might be well-nigh surely prognosticated that the country
will relapse into its former state and worse, unless the Lord God of
His mercy interpose His hand.”[691]
In the meanwhile, Mary, having received Elizabeth’s protestation, sent
two members of the Privy Council to the Princess, announcing that
she would leave her the Crown on two conditions, the first being her
promise to maintain the Catholic faith and worship in England, the
second that she would undertake to pay the Queen’s debts. Both these
conditions Elizabeth accepted.[692]
De Feria arrived in London on the 9th November, to find that the
Queen’s recovery was despaired of by all her English and Spanish
physicians. She was attended only by an Italian doctor, afterwards
suspected of having poisoned her, and was growing gradually weaker
every hour. A smile hovered over her face when de Feria spoke to her of
her husband, but she had no strength to read the letter which he sent
her, in explanation of the grave reasons for his remaining in Flanders.
All she could do was to send him a ring, as a pledge of her love and
fidelity.[693]
From Mary’s death-bed, the envoy passed to the Council Chamber, where
he found all the members assembled except Pembroke and Paget. He
noticed Masone, who was accounted one of Elizabeth’s most confidential
friends, and took the opportunity of declaring in a loud voice, that
the King was extremely glad, that the Princess was to succeed her
sister, and that he would do all that depended on himself to help
her to mount the throne. The next day, he went to express the same
sentiments to Elizabeth in person. She received him in a friendly
manner, but was less gracious than she had shown herself to Christopher
d’Assonleville, who had visited her in August, at a moment when
she felt less secure of the future, and to whom she had expressed
much gratitude for Philip’s protection, at a time when she had been
suspected by the Queen. In order to flatter her vanity which was
great, de Feria said that the King had always been very sensible of
her charms, and that if she continued in the Catholic religion, he
would be disposed to seek her hand. She replied with some asperity,
that the King had wished her to marry the Duke of Savoy, but that she
herself could not forget how the Queen had in a great measure, lost the
affection of her people through having married a foreigner.[694] In
concluding his letter, de Feria remarked that Elizabeth was surrounded
by persons as favourable to heresy as they were hostile to his Majesty,
and that she herself, combining vanity with astuteness, would not fail
soon to follow in the footsteps of her father King Henry VIII.[695]
De Feria was not alone, in paying court to the rising sun.
“Many personages of the kingdom,” wrote Surian, “flocked to the house
of Miladi Elizabeth [at Hatfield], the crowd constantly increasing with
great frequency.”[696]
A smaller crowd, but more mixed, gathered round Mary’s death-bed. It
was composed of her most devoted friends—with the exception of Cardinal
Pole, who himself lay dying—and of those who were eagerly watching for
her last sigh. The end came in the gloomy dawn of the 17th November,
and the sympathetic chronicler of the life of the Duchess of Feria thus
describes the scene:—
“That morning hearing Mass, which was celebrated in her chamber,
she being at the last point (for no day passed in her life that she
heard not Mass), and although sick to death, she heard it with so
good attention, zeal and devotion, as she answered in every part with
him that served the Priest; such yet was the quickness of her senses
and memory. And when the priest came to that part to say ‘_Agnus
Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi_,’ she answered plainly and distinctly
to every one, ‘_Miserere nobis, Miserere nobis, Dona nobis pacem_’.
Afterwards, seeming to meditate something with herself, when the Priest
took the Sacred Host to consume it, she adored it with her voice and
countenance, presently closed her eyes and rendered her blessed soul
to God. This, the duchess [Jane Dormer] hath related to me, the tears
pouring from her eyes, that the last thing which the queen saw in this
world, was her Saviour and Redeemer in the Sacramental species; no
doubt to behold Him presently after in His glorious Body in heaven. A
blessed and glorious passage. ‘_Anima mea cum anima ejus._’”[697]
Monsignor Priuli, writing to his brother ten days later, thus describes
the death of Mary and that of her friend and kinsman, Reginald Pole:—
“I wrote last week that the Queen’s life was in danger, and also that
of my right reverend Lord, since when, it has pleased God, so to
increase the malady of both, that on the 17th inst., seven hours after
midnight, the Queen passed from this life, and my right reverend Lord
followed her at 7 o’clock in the evening of the same day; and each
departed with such piety as might have been expected from persons who
had led such lives.
“During their illness they confessed themselves repeatedly, and
communicated most devoutly, and two days before their end, they each
received extreme unction, after which it seemed as if they rallied,
and were much comforted, according to the fruit of that holy medicine.
Although two days previously it had been intimated to his right
reverend Lordship, that there was scarcely any hope of the Queen’s
recovering from her infirmity, this being done, in order that the
news of her demise, coming less suddenly, might prove less grievous
to him, nevertheless, after the event, it was thought well to delay
its announcement, until his Lordship should become more composed,
though it could not have been long deferred, yet in contradiction to
this understanding, one of our countrymen forgetfully told it him. On
hearing it, after remaining silent for a short while, he then said
to his intimate friend, the Bishop of St. Asaph, and to me, that in
the whole course of his life, nothing had ever yielded him greater
pleasure and contentment than the contemplation of God’s providence,
as displayed in his own person and in that of others, and that in the
course of the Queen’s life, and of his own, he had ever remarked a
great conformity, as she like himself had been harassed during many
years, for one and the same cause, and afterwards, when it pleased
God to raise her to the throne, he had greatly participated in all
her other troubles entailed by that elevation. He also alluded to
their relationship, and to the great similarity of their dispositions,
and to the great confidence which her Majesty demonstrated in him,
saying that besides the immense mischief which might result from her
death, he could not but feel deep grief thereat, yet by God’s grace,
that same faith and reliance which had ever comforted him in all
his adversities, greatly consoled him likewise, in this so grievous
a catastrophe. He uttered these words with such earnestness that it
was evident they came from his very heart, and they even moved him to
tears of consolation, at perceiving how our Lord God, for such a wound
received at such a moment had granted a balm so valid and efficacious,
and which might soothe not only himself, but also all who loved him.
His right reverend Lordship then remained quiet and silent for about
a quarter of an hour, but though his spirit was great, the blow
nevertheless having entered into his flesh, brought on the paroxysm
earlier, and with more intense cold than he had hitherto experienced,
so that he said he felt this would be his last. He therefore desired,
that there might be kept near him the book containing those prayers
which are said for the dying. He then had Vespers repeated as usual,
and the Compline, which part of the office yet remained for him to
hear; and this was about two hours before sunset, he having on the
very same morning heard Mass also, as was his daily custom. In fine
it was evident, that as in health that sainted soul was ever turned
to God, so likewise in this long and troublesome infirmity, did it
continue thus until his end, which he made so placidly, that he seemed
to sleep rather than to die, as did the Queen likewise, so that had not
a physician perceived the act, her Majesty would have died without any
one’s witnessing it. My affection has moved me thus minutely to detail
the end of this truly holy prelate and of this sainted Queen.”[698]
It is scarcely matter for surprise that Mary’s time-serving Council
should have made no long lingering over their mistress’s yet warm
ashes. The scene was quickly changed from St. James’s to Hatfield,
where Sir Nicholas Throckmorton was the first to acquaint Elizabeth
with the news of her accession.
After being embalmed, Mary’s body lay in state in the chapel of
St. James’s Palace, till the 12th December, when it was removed
to Westminster Abbey. Strype thus quaintly describes the funeral
procession:—
“When the day was come, after this manner were her funerals performed.
Her corpse was brought from St. James’s where she died, in a chariot,
with a picture or image resembling her person, adorned with crimson
velvet, her crown on her head, and her sceptre in her hand, and many
good rings on her fingers.[699] And so up the highway went the foremost
standard, with the falcon and the hart. Then came great company of
mourners. And after, another goodly standard of the lion and the
falcon, followed by King Philip her husband’s servants, two and two
together, in black gowns; heralds riding to and fro to see all go in
order. After, came the third standard with the white greyhound and
the falcon. Then came gentlemen in gowns, mourners. Then came riding
esquires, bearing banners of arms. Next came the lord Marquis of
Winchester, on horseback, bearing the banner of the arms of England,
embroidered with gold. Then Mr. Chester, the herald, bearing the helm
and the crest and mantles. Then Mr. Norroy bearing the target, with
the garter and the crown. Then Mr. Clarencieux, bearing the sword.
And after, Mr. Garter bearing her coat armour: all on horseback.
Banners were borne about her by lords and knights, with four heralds
on horseback, bearing four white banners of saints, wrought with
fine gold, _viz._, Mr. Somerset, Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Windsor and Mr.
York. Then came the corpse with her picture lying over her, covered
with cloth of gold, the cross silver. Then followed Mr. —— with the
chief mourners. And then ladies riding, all in black trailed to the
ground. In the chariot, wherein the Queen lay, rode the pages of
honour with banners in their hands. Afore the corpse, her chapel, and
after, all the monks, and after them the bishops in order. And all in
this equipage passed by Charing Cross to Westminster Abbey, where at
the great doors of the church, everybody alighted off their horses.
Then were gentlemen ready to take the Queen out of her chariot: and
so earls and lords went before her towards the hearse,[700] with her
picture borne between men of worship. At the church door, met her
four bishops and the abbot, mitred, in copes, censing the body; and so
she lay all night under the hearse with watch. _Item._ There were an
hundred poor men in good black gowns, bearing long torches, with hoods
on their heads, and arms on them. And about her the guard, bearing
staff-torches, in black coats. And all the way chandlers, having
torches to supply them that had their torches burnt out.”[701]
The next day, being the 13th December, a Mass of Requiem was sung, and
Dr. White, Bishop of Winchester, preached the funeral sermon. Mary had
been dead nearly a month, and by this time it required some courage
to speak of her in terms of praise, affection or gratitude. “For such
offenses as he committed in his sermon at the funeralles of the late
Queen,”[702] Dr. White was ordered to keep his house during the Queen’s
pleasure. The sting lay in the eulogy contained in the following
fragments of his discourse:—
“She was a King’s daughter, she was a King’s sister, she was a King’s
wife. She was a Queen, and by the same title a King also: she was
sister to her, that by the like title and right, is both King and Queen
at this present of this realm. These be great gifts and benefactions
of God; who in his gifts is ever to be glorified. What she suffered
in each of these degrees before and since she came to the crown I
will not chronicle; only this I say, howsoever it pleased God to will
her patience to be exercised in the world, she had in all estates,
the fear of God in her heart. I verily believe the poorest creature
in all this city feared not God more than she did. She had the love,
commendation and admiration of all the world.... She was never
unmindful or uncareful of her promise to her realm. She used singular
mercy towards offenders. She used much pity and compassion towards the
poor and oppressed. She used clemency among her nobles. She restored
more noble houses decayed than ever did prince of this realm, or I pray
God ever shall have the like occasion to do hereafter. She restored
to the Church such ornaments as in the time of schism were taken away
and spoiled. She found the realm poisoned with heresy, and purged it,
and remembering herself to be a member of Christ’s Church, refused to
write herself _head_ thereof.... Such was her knowledge as well as
virtue; neither was there ever prince on earth that had more of both.
But although she were such a one yet could she not be immortal. It
pleased God, in whose hands the heart and breath, the life and death,
the beginning and end of princes is, to call her from this mortal life,
of the pleasures whereof (the pleasure that she took in the service of
God only excepted) as no person than her, I suppose, took less, so of
troubles and bitterness of the same none here for his estate taketh
more.”
After giving an account of her preparation for death, and of her last
moments, the preacher went on to say that, having received the blessing
of the Church, “she bowed down her head and withal yielded a mild and
gracious spirit into the hands of her Maker. All this I say,” he added,
“if it were as pithily expressed, as she godly and devoutly did it,
should be to you as it was to them that saw it, more than ten such
sermons. If angels were mortal, I would rather liken this her departure
to the death of an angel, than of a mortal creature. After this sort
died this gracious Queen, of whom we may justly say, _Laudavi mortuam
magis quam viventem_, and although we doubt not of her estate, yet
because it is temerity to pronounce of God’s secret judgments, or to
deny prayer, to deny to one which is due to all, let us again commend
her soul to God, wishing to her as Tertullian teacheth _refrigerium et
in prima resurrectione consortium_. Which prayer if it relieve not her,
as one that with God’s grace and mercy hath the effect thereof already,
yet shall it help us the rather before God, from whom the prayer of the
faithful is never turned back or in vain.
“And as we for our parts have received worthily detriment and
discomfort upon her departing, so let us comfort ourselves in the
other sister, whom God hath left, wishing her a prosperous reign, in
peace and tranquillity, with the blessing which the prophet speaketh
of, if it be God’s will _ut videat filios filiorum et pacem super
Israel_, ever confessing that, though God hath mercifully provided for
them both, yet _Mariam optimam partem elegit_; because it is still a
conclusion _Laudavi mortuos magis quam viventes_.”[703]
The displeasure which Dr. White incurred for his panegyric of
Mary,[704] was but the beginning of a systematic blackening of her
memory, by those, whose interest it was to stand well with Elizabeth.
Eleven out of the thirty-five members who composed Mary’s Privy Council
at the end of her reign became Privy Councillors under Elizabeth, a
process that entailed some turning of coats for the second and even the
third time. Those pamphleteers and manufacturers of low abuse, who had
embittered Mary’s last days with insult and calumny might now pursue
their trade unmolested, while the loose statements of reformers such
as John Knox, John Foxe and John Bale,[705] afterwards too carelessly
credited, and copied by Strype, Burnet and others, and elaborated by
Hume and Froude, have marred beyond recognition the reputation of one
who has been tardily recognised in our own day, as “amongst the best,
although not the greatest of our sovereigns”.[706]
No monument has ever been raised to the memory of Queen Mary I. Two
small black tablets mark the spot where she lies buried, in the north
aisle of Henry VIIth’s Chapel in Westminster Abbey, at the foot of the
tomb erected by James I. over the remains of Elizabeth. They bear this
inscription:—
REGNO CONSORTES ET MARIA SORORES
& URNA HIC OBDOR IN SPE RESURREC-
MIMUS ELIZABETHA TIONIS.
Mary’s last Will and Testament, dated the 30th April 1558, with a
Codicil, added a little more than a fortnight before her death, is an
interesting and characteristic document, containing many glimpses into
her mind and heart. It was not only entirely ignored by Elizabeth,
but lay utterly forgotten for nearly 300 years. Sir Frederick Madden
printed a copy of it in 1831.[707]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 684: Burnet, vol. ii., preface, p. 23.]
[Footnote 685: Secret. de Estado, Leg. 811 and 812, Simancas Arch., De
Feria to the King.]
[Footnote 686: MS., St. Mark’s Library, Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., p. 197.]
[Footnote 687: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 688: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1274.]
[Footnote 689: Page 90.]
[Footnote 690: P. 68 _et seq._]
[Footnote 691: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1279.]
[Footnote 692: Secret. de Estado, Leg. 811, Simancas Arch. Kervyn de
Lettenhove, _Relations Politiques des Pays Bas et de l’Angleterre_,
vol. i., p. 277.]
[Footnote 693: Secret. de Estado, Leg. 811, Simancas Arch. Kervyn de
Lettenhove, _Relations Politiques des Pays Bas et de l’Angleterre_,
vol. i., p. 277.]
[Footnote 694: De Feria to the King, 13th or 14th November 1558,
_Relations Politiques des Pays Bas et de l’Angleterre_, p. 279. From
the original document formerly in the Archives of Simancas, and since
lost.]
[Footnote 695: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 696: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1285. “She (the Queen)
was moved to send two gentlemen to that lady, to let her know that
as it had pleased the Lord God to end her days, she was content that
she (Elizabeth) as her sister should become Queen, and prayed her to
maintain the kingdom and the Catholic religion, in words replete with
much affection, to which she sent a most gracious reply.”]
[Footnote 697: _The Life of Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria_, by Henry
Clifford, p. 71.]
[Footnote 698: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., 1286.]
[Footnote 699: According to Leti, the body of the Queen was clad by her
own orders in the dress of a humble religious.]
[Footnote 700: Canopy.]
[Footnote 701: _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. iii., pt. ii., p. 141.]
[Footnote 702: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. vii., p. 45.]
[Footnote 703: Cotton MS. Vesp. D. xviii., ff. 103, 104, Brit. Mus.;
printed in Strype, vol. iii., pt. ii., p. 546 _et seq._]
[Footnote 704: He was for more than a month, a prisoner in his own
house, the order for his release being signed on the 19th January 1559.]
[Footnote 705: In _Hales’ Oration_ Mary is styled “Jezabel,”
“Athaliah,” “Devil of Hell,” etc., etc. (Strype, vol. iii., pt. ii., p.
150).]
[Footnote 706: Sir Frederick Madden, _Privy Purse Expenses of the
Princess Mary_, Introductory Memoir, p. clxx.]
[Footnote 707: In his _Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary_; see
also the transcript in Appendix H of the present volume.]
CHAPTER XVII.
_VERITAS TEMPORIS FILIA._
We live in an age of criticism. Epithets will no longer serve in lieu
of evidence, and we are called upon to revise the hasty judgments of
past centuries, and to reconsider their verdicts. The verdict passed
on Mary I. has hitherto been founded on the one-sided testimony of
her enemies, and on their showing, the world has taken for granted
that she was at the best a gloomy, narrow-minded bigot, whose life was
utterly unproductive of good to England. Her very trials and sorrows
have led the most indulgent to conclude, that she must in consequence
have been of a melancholy disposition, and to find in her misfortunes
an excuse for the moroseness which in their opinion, rendered her
the most unattractive personality in our history. Moroseness is a
fit accompaniment to cruelty and thirst for blood; and thus, by
easy stages, it has been possible to imagine her gloating over the
executions for religion’s sake, which disgraced her reign as they did
those of her predecessors and successors, down to the time of Charles
II.
Such, however, has not been the picture presented to us in the course
of our study of the State papers, dealing with her life and reign, and
“all history,” said the learned Dr. Samuel Johnson, “so far as it is
not supported by contemporary evidence, is romance”.[708] We have seen
her, as represented in the secret despatches of ambassadors, in her own
private letters, in those of Cardinal Pole, in the narratives of her
contemporaries, in the brief chronicles of her time, in the occasional
admissions of her enemies; we have seen her as a girl, a woman, a
queen, in a dozen different lights, and we have found an image, the
very reverse of that which for three centuries has been held up to the
world’s execration.
That Mary was not in advance of her contemporaries should scarcely be a
reproach. What wonder even, if she looked to the past for inspiration,
from amidst the chaos of new opinions, that seemed to her productive
only of rebellion, licence and impiety! She could remember the time,
when order reigned in Church and State, and when peace resulted from
obedience to civil and ecclesiastical authority. With the change had
begun all her miseries. Cromwell and Cranmer, the apostles of the new
regime, had played her father’s game of tyranny and rapine, and their
followers had made havoc of her own projects of peace and prosperity.
Had the new religionists been mere harmless, loyal, quiet folk,
the fires of Smithfield had never been lighted.[709] Hence, it was
inevitable that all novelty should be regarded by her with suspicion,
as synonymous with evil, and she died in the fruitless attempt to
resist the inflowing tide. She was wanting neither in intelligence
nor devotion to her people; what she lacked was the touch of genius
to discern the actual trend of the new, restless ideas, that made her
kingdom into a battle-field, and inspiration and tact, to guide them
into peaceful channels. Absorbed in the inherited notions of an ideal
good, she missed much of the practical good that lay within her grasp,
and had she been less conscientious, she might have been a greater
Queen.
It is not possible to exonerate her completely, in the matter of her
formal condemnation of her mother’s marriage, although she was therein
herself the victim, her only valid excuse being, that the Emperor had
caught her in the toils of his diplomatic sophistry, and had blinded
her judgment with the glamour of his arguments.
Her character, therefore, was not without some inconsistencies—and
indeed of whom can the reverse be declared? Those who have extolled
her more than virile courage, as it was exhibited in her early trials,
during her persecution by Edward’s Council, in her manner of meeting
Northumberland’s conspiracy, in her dealing with Wyatt’s rebellion,
and on many smaller occasions, have generally overlooked the feminine
weakness, with which she almost always yielded when her affections
intervened. Thus, after having braved Henry’s anger, and stoutly
maintained her mother’s rights and her own, fearless of the axe that
hung by a thread over her, she gave in, when Katharine was beyond the
reach of harm, from a, to us, almost incomprehensible longing for her
father’s love, and in her childlike confidence that the Emperor could
not lead her astray. She had taken up a logical attitude with reference
to Elizabeth, which was the complement of the disgust, with which she
regarded Elizabeth’s mother; but this attitude was at once abandoned
when Anne Boleyn’s disgrace involved the child in the same ignominy
and ruin. Mary had but just regained a certain amount of consideration
for her own position, but she did not hesitate generously to risk all,
by calling Henry’s attention to the neglected child, once her own
triumphant rival. “My sister Elizabeth is in good health,” she ventured
to write to the inhuman tyrant, “and such a child toward, as I doubt
not your highness shall have cause to rejoice of in time coming.”
_The Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary_ are eloquent of her
generosity towards “the Lady Elizabeth’s grace,” and until Elizabeth
forfeited her esteem by making common cause with her enemies, there
was no diminution of cordiality on the part of the Queen towards her
sister. She married Philip of Spain in spite of all opposition, in
the first place for the sake of the realm, and in the hope of issue,
and gave him a passionate devotion. In most of these things Mary was
a true woman, no heroine, but tender and human to a fault. Of her
learning and accomplishments, much has been said in the course of this
history. Her contemporaries have been warm in praise of the high order
of her intellect, of her knowledge of ancient and modern languages, of
her musical talents, of her skill in dancing. Her translation of the
_Paraphrases_ of Erasmus proves that her reputation for scholarship
proceeded from no mere courtier-like flattery. And the same may be said
of the general terms of praise in which foreign envoys wrote of her
to their governments. Their communications being altogether secret,
and often written in cipher, could have been penned with no ulterior
views of pleasing Mary or her friends. Until within a year of her
death, there is no allusion in their despatches to any despondency on
her part. She felt her husband’s absence acutely, and it may have been
that his indifference to her hastened her death; but contrary to what
David Hume and his followers would have us believe, it is clear that
no spirit of settled bitterness brooded over any portion, even the
saddest, of her life. Nothing is more evident in her story, as it is
told in the State Papers, than that to the end, her disposition was to
hope against hope, to believe that her prayers would be answered, to
trust that good would come out of evil; and not one despairing word is
recorded as ever having passed her lips.[710]
We have had various descriptions of Mary’s personal appearance, of
her manner and character, from those who came in contact with her at
different periods. There still remains to be chronicled the impression
which the Queen produced on the mind of Giovanni Michiel, and which he
describes in his account of England in 1557, at a time, therefore,
when the charm of youth was past, and when she was approaching her end.
After describing her as of low, rather than middling stature and of a
spare and delicate frame, quite unlike her father, who was tall and
stout, or her mother who was portly, he says that her face, as can be
seen by her portraits, is well proportioned in features and lineaments.
He mentions the fact that when younger, she was considered not merely
tolerably handsome, but of beauty exceeding mediocrity. At present,
with the exception of some wrinkles, caused more by anxieties than by
age, which make her appear some years older, “she is a seemly woman
and never to be loathed for ugliness, even at her present age, without
considering her degree of queen”. Her expression is very grave, her
eyes are so piercing, that they inspire not only respect but fear, in
those on whom she fixes them, although she is very short-sighted.
“Her voice is rough and loud almost like a man’s, so that when she
speaks, she is always heard a long way off.... But whatever may be the
amount deducted from her physical endowments as much more may with
truth and without flattery be added to those of her mind, as besides
the facility and quickness of her understanding, which comprehends
whatever is intelligible to others, even to those who are not of
her own sex (a marvellous gift for a woman) she is skilled in five
languages, not merely understanding but speaking four of them fluently,
_viz._, English, Latin, French, Spanish and Italian, in which last
however she does not venture to converse, although it is well known
to her; but the replies she gives in Latin, and her very intelligent
remarks made in that tongue, surprise everybody. Besides woman’s work,
such as embroidery of every sort with the needle, she also practises
music, playing especially on the clavicorde (a sort of spinet or small
harpsichord) and on the lute, so excellently, that when intent on it
(though now she plays rarely) she surprised the best performers, both
by the rapidity of her hand and by her style of playing. Such are her
virtues and external accomplishments. Internally, with the exception
of certain trifles, in which to say the truth she is like other women,
being sudden and passionate and close and miserly,[711] rather more so
than would become a bountiful and generous queen.”
In other respects, he maintains that she has “no notable imperfections,
whilst in certain things she is singular and without an equal; for not
only is she brave and valiant, unlike other timid and spiritless women,
but so courageous and resolute, that neither in adversity nor peril
did she ever display or commit any act of cowardice or pusillanimity,
maintaining always on the contrary, a wonderful grandeur and dignity,
knowing what became the dignity of a sovereign as well as any of the
most consummate statesmen in her service; so that from her way of
proceeding, and from the method observed by her (and in which she still
perseveres) it cannot be denied, that she shows herself to have been
born of truly royal lineage. Of her humility, piety and religion it is
unnecessary to speak, or bear witness to them, as they are not only
universally acknowledged, but recently blazoned by proofs and facts,
which fell little short of martyrdom, by reason of the persecutions
she endured; so that it may be said of her, as Cardinal Pole says with
truth, that in the darkness and obscurity of that kingdom, she remained
precisely like a feeble light, buffeted by raging winds for its utter
extinction, but always kept burning, and defended by her innocence
and lively faith, that it might shine in the world, as it now does
shine. It is certain that few women (I do not speak of princesses or
queens but of private women) are known to be more assiduous at their
prayers than she is, never choosing to suspend them for any impediment
whatever, going at the canonical hours with her chaplains either to
church in public, or to her private chapel, doing the like with regard
to the communion and fast days, and finally to all other christian
works, precisely like a nun and a religious.”
After commenting on Mary’s weak health, on her disappointed hopes of
maternity, on her grief at the insurrections, conspiracies and plots
formed against her daily, Michiel goes on to say, that although these
have resulted auspiciously for the Queen, and inauspiciously for their
authors, “yet nevertheless it being necessary on such occasions to
proceed to capital punishment or confiscation, against one person or
another, sometimes for crime, and sometimes on suspicion, she knows
that by these means, the hatred and indignation she inspires are
increased, the delinquents being not only excused almost by everybody,
but the causes, such as the expulsion of foreigners (who are most
odious to the English, on account of the Spaniards) or the religion,
or both together assigned by the conspirators for their movements,
being tacitly approved of. The consequence is, that as until now, the
plots have been set on foot by the commonalty, and persons of mean
extraction, so from the fickleness of that nation, were they excited by
some personage or nobleman of importance, there is no doubt, they would
create a great revolution throughout the realm, much to the personal
danger of the Queen, and of her life, the kingdom being still full of
humours and discontent, and the country showing a greater inclination
and readiness for change than ever, provided it has a leader. Besides
these and many other distresses, the Queen witnesses the daily
increasing decline of the affection evinced towards her universally
at the commencement of her reign, which in truth was such and so
extraordinary, that never was greater shown in that kingdom towards any
sovereign; and she is also harassed by the poverty in which she sees
the Crown, owing not only to the past debts and disorders, but to the
many expenses and the wants incurred in her own time, which prevent her
from showing courtesy and liberality such as become a sovereign, either
to her own subjects or to others. She is compelled on the contrary
(there being no other remedy) daily to repeat her demands for loans
and subsidies, which have now become such a grievance, and so much the
more odious to the people, as notwithstanding all the subsidies, the
creditors remain unpaid, the majority having arrears due to them for
entire years, so that their clamours and complaints being redoubled,
the hatred of all other malcontents increases proportionably. These
and many others are the public causes of the Queen’s distress, and
although they are held by her in great account, she nevertheless feels
them less painfully than certain others, which affect her personally,
as respecting those already mentioned by me, she comforts herself
with the hope of their being remedied in the course of time, by the
counsel and diligence of some of her ministers, especially Cardinal
Pole, through the care taken by them to investigate and retrench
superfluities and abuses, and thus with the aid of parsimony, getting
out of debt as she expects to do shortly, so as then to be enabled to
use liberality, confer favours and rewards, and relieve those who are
in want.”[712]
Michiel, in continuing his report, ascribes the Queen’s principal
distress to two causes. It proceeds, he says, from love and hatred—from
excessive love of her husband, of his character and manners, believed
by Michiel to be such as to captivate any one; and from hatred of
Elizabeth. He considers that no one could have been a better husband
than Philip, nor so good a one, and that to think of losing him, as he
and the Queen can only meet by accident, would be irksome and grievous
to any person who loved another heartily, and is assuredly so to a
woman who is naturally tender. “If,” he continues, “to this violent
love were to be added jealousy, _which as yet she is not known to feel_
... she would be truly miserable; and this separation is one of the
anxieties that especially distresses her.”[713]
Without stopping to question the accuracy of Michiel’s assertion,
that no one could have been a better husband than Philip, we pass on
to what the Venetian considers the second principal cause of Mary’s
distress, namely her “hatred of Elizabeth”. The expression is a strong
one, and scarcely compatible with what he has already related of her
piety, humility and prayerfulness. But “although dissembled,” the
Queen, he tells us, “displays in many ways the scorn and ill-will she
bears her ... whenever she sees her, fancying herself in the presence
of the affronts and ignominious treatment to which she was subjected
on account of her mother, from whom, in great part, the divorce from
Queen Katharine originated. But what disquiets her most of all is, to
see the eyes and hearts of the nation already fixed on this lady as
successor to the Crown, from despair of descent from the Queen, to
whom the demonstration and the thought are so much the more bitter and
odious, as it would be grievous not only to her but to any one, to see
the illegitimate child of a criminal, who was punished as a public
——, on the point of inheriting the throne, with better fortune than
herself, whose descent is rightful, legitimate and regal. Besides this,
the Queen’s hatred is increased, by knowing her to be averse to the
present religion, she not only having been born in the other, but being
versed and educated in it; for although externally she showed, and by
living catholically shows, that she has recanted, she is nevertheless
supposed to dissemble, and to hold it more than ever internally.”[714]
Strong feeling and strong language were natural in the days in
which the above words were written, and a certain exaggeration of
expression may be granted to an Italian, whose mother tongue flowed
in superlatives. But Mary could not have been so ardent a lover, so
devoted a friend, so kind a benefactress, if she had not also been
quick to experience resentment, indignation, scorn and contempt.
Elizabeth had been always the great antagonism of her life, and
although Mary had repeatedly overcome her aversion, in very generous
ways, her sister had done nothing to make her task an easier one.
From the outset, their dispositions were as the poles asunder. Mary’s
meaning was ever plain, expressed sometimes even bluntly; there was
never anything the least ambiguous, either in her spoken or her
clearly written words, in a hand admirably indicative of her firm,
straightforward character. Elizabeth was at the best an enigma. It
was impossible to judge whether any meaning lay behind her elaborate
assurances which assured nothing; and her tortuous phrases served but
to conceal whatever plan her cunning, secretive brain harboured. On
the rare occasions when she was compelled to speak out, and declare
herself, her utterances were for the most part falsified in the event.
It is not unlikely that Mary’s self-conquest in regard to Elizabeth, at
the time of the latter’s abandonment and disgrace, would have resulted
in a lasting affection, founded on pity, and that motherly instinct
so strongly developed in the Queen, had not her sister persistently
thrown herself into the arms of the rebels. At the time of Henry’s
death, and until the beginning of Mary’s reign, their relations were as
cordial as it was possible for Mary to make them. But in a very short
time, Elizabeth became a source of constant annoyance and danger, and
pursuing her underhand tactics to the end she thoroughly alienated and
disgusted the Queen. If, for reasons of policy, Philip induced his wife
to treat her as though she were innocent, the position was not thereby
improved.
The purity of Mary’s court, at a period when licence was the order of
the day, was the subject of much comment by her contemporaries. Her
care for the honour and good repute of those about her, is illustrated
by the following occurrence, which shows also the gentle manner in
which she administered rebuke, when rebuke was necessary.
“Queen Mary being in the gallery, ready to go to the chapel, within the
traverse, the Lord William Howard, Lord Chamberlain being with her,
he taking his leave; without the traverse stood the maids of honour,
expecting to wait on the queen to the chapel. Mrs. Frances Neville
standing next to the traverse, the Lord Chamberlain passing by, a merry
gentleman, took her by the chin saying: ‘My pretty —— (a word unfit
for repetition) how dost thou?’ Which the queen saw and heard, the
traverse being drawn. The queen gone forth, finding her farthingale at
her foot loose, made sign to Mrs. Neville to pin it, which, kneeling
down she did. The queen then took her by the chin as he had done
saying: ‘God-a-mercy, my pretty ——’. She hearing the queen say thus, so
blushed as she seemed to be astonished, replying: ‘Madam, what says
your Majesty?’ still upon her knees, and seemed to be much troubled.
The queen answered, ‘What is the matter? Have I said or done more than
the Lord Chamberlain did? And may not I be as bold with thee as he?’
She replied: ‘My Lord Chamberlain is an idle gentleman, and we respect
not what he saith or doth; but your Majesty from whom I think never
any heard such a word, doth amaze me, either in jest or earnest to be
called so by you. A —— is a wicked misliving woman.’ The queen took it,
‘Thou must forgive me; for I meant no harm’.”
The troubles arising from religious questions occupy so large a portion
of Mary’s short reign, that a substantial reform of the criminal law,
which at another period would have excited interest and admiration,
has almost escaped the notice of historians. It was indeed in the
reign of Edward VI. that a jury first began to be a fair and effective
tribunal, but Mary’s noble exordium in appointing Morgan, Chief Justice
of the Common Pleas, contained the first indication of the precept,
that not only was equity to be maintained among the people, but that
in cases in which the Crown was involved, the like justice was to be
done. “I charge you, Sir,” said the Queen, “to minister the law and
justice indifferently, without respect of persons; and notwithstanding
the old error among you, which will not admit any witness to speak,
or other matters to be heard, in favour of the adversary, the Crown
being party, it is my pleasure that whatever cases be brought, in
favour of the subject may be admitted and heard. You are to sit there
not as advocates for me, but as indifferent judges between me and my
people.”[715]
That this was no empty formula was proved in the following year, when
a jury persisted in acquitting a prisoner of State, Sir Nicholas
Throckmorton, against the direction of the court, and as was well known
against the personal conviction of the Queen,[716] who believed in his
guilt. Throughout Mary’s reign, the accused had absolute confidence in
the uprightness, integrity and unhampered freedom of the jury, and
never forgot, that a statute of the realm had expressly declared, that
there should be two witnesses to prove a treason, and that they must
be confronted face to face. Hitherto, and in the subsequent reigns,
persons indicted on behalf of the Crown, whatever their rights, had
no probability of a favourable decision, on account of the paramount
advantages claimed and enjoyed by the counsel for the sovereign. Many
instances of this arbitrary and tyrannical rule are to be found in the
minutes of the State trials under Elizabeth and James I.
If, in some ways, Mary seemed to have inherited a large amount of Tudor
obstinacy, her sincere and earnest intention to act according to the
light of conscience, and to govern by strictly constitutional methods,
made her singularly unlike her father before, or her sister after
her. No flattery however insidious, on the part of those who sought
to ingratiate themselves with her, by advocating a more unrestricted
course, was able to lure her from this lofty resolve. A rebel who had
been pardoned, and who thought by this means to secure her favour, drew
up a plan by which she might render herself independent of Parliaments.
It was presented to her by the Spanish ambassador, who ventured to
recommend its adoption. As the Queen read it, she disliked it, “and
judged it contrary to the oath she had made at her coronation”. She
sent for Gardiner, and giving him the treatise to read, commanded him
as he would answer for it at the judgment seat of God, to tell her
his real opinion of the matter. “Madam,” replied the Chancellor, on
returning the volume to her, “it is a pity that so noble and virtuous
a lady should be endangered with the pernicious devices of such lewd
and subtle sycophants. For the book is naught, and most horrible to
be thought on.” The Queen thanked him, and threw the volume into the
fire.[717]
There are important indications in the records of this reign showing
that had Mary’s lines been cast in more peaceful places, and had her
life been prolonged, much would have been done to develop international
and commercial interests. Shortly before Edward’s death, a joint-stock
company had been formed under the direction of Sebastian Cabot, son of
the famous navigator. A small fleet commanded by Sir Hugh Willoughby
was fitted out, and sailed for the north of Europe, with the object of
discovering a north-east passage to China and India. Off the coast of
Norway, their ships were scattered by a violent storm, and Challoner,
the second officer in command, found his way into the White Sea, and
reached Archangel in safety. The others were cast upon the shores of
Nova Zembla, and Russian Lapland, where they all perished from cold
and want. Challoner, obliged to abandon the original enterprise,
travelled through Russia to Moscow, where he was kindly received
by the Czar, Ivan Wassilegevich, who gave him a letter to the King
of England. Edward being then dead, the letter was consequently
delivered to Mary, and Challoner’s reports of the wonderful sights he
had witnessed roused a keen spirit of adventure in the nation. A new
company was formed, and directed by the same Sebastian Cabot, and was
incorporated under the title of “_Merchants adventurers of England, for
the discovery of lands, territories, isles and signories unknown_”. A
charter was granted to the company, by which its members were empowered
to make discoveries by navigating northwards, north-westwards or
north-eastwards, and were entitled to raise the flag of England over
“all manner of cities, towns, isles and main lands of infidelity,”
after subduing them to the dominion of the King and Queen, and their
heirs and successors for ever.[718] It was the beginning of the
brilliant exploits by which England became subsequently so formidable,
under the semi-piratical enterprises of Drake, Frobisher and Sir Walter
Raleigh.
Challoner was sent back to Moscow, with a letter from Philip and
Mary to the Czar, containing the initiative towards a commercial
treaty between England and Russia.[719] The expedition was eminently
successful, and he returned, accompanied by the Russian ambassador,
as far as the Bay of Pitsligo, where the ship was wrecked, and
Challoner was drowned. The ambassador escaped, but as he had suffered
considerable loss at the hands of the Scotch, who plundered the wreck,
Mary sent two messengers to Edinburgh, to redress his wrongs, and bring
him with honour and distinction to London. After some difficulties, the
commercial treaty with Russia was concluded, under very advantageous
conditions for England, and the ambassador went back to his own
country, loaded with costly presents for himself and his sovereign. By
this treaty English trade received a great impetus, and henceforth the
manufactures of the country were exchanged at a vast profit for the
skins and other valuable products of Russia.
Mary also defended English commercial interests against the cupidity
of a powerful company of foreign merchants, who had been settled in
London for centuries, and were known as Easterlings, merchants of the
Hanse towns, and merchants of the Steelyard. The privileges granted to
them by generations of English kings, in return for the loans which
their immense resources enabled them to advance in sudden emergencies,
had accumulated until they had almost absolute control of the markets.
One great subject of complaint was their exemption from paying more
than 1 per cent. duty on their merchandise, which included almost every
imaginable article of commerce, so that all competition was excluded,
and they could raise or depress the prices as they pleased. It had
been declared on investigation, that they had violated, and therefore
forfeited their charter, but they were powerful enough to dispute its
possession, until the bill of tonnage and poundage passed in Mary’s
first Parliament aimed a decisive blow at their excessive privileges,
by enacting that the Easterlings should pay the same duties as other
merchants. The Queen was induced to suspend for a time the operation
of the statute, but having ascertained what were, in this respect,
the real interests of her people, she finally revoked the charter,
and refused to listen to any further arguments in favour of the
company.[720]
Among many interesting facts, hitherto ignored by Mary’s biographers,
are the benefits which the Queen bestowed on her army. Two of these
call for special remark, the first being an increase of pay from 6d. to
8d. a day, the sum for which the men had mutinied under Henry VIII.;
the second being a touching instance of her care for them, expressed in
her last will. In this document it will be seen, she left instructions
for the foundation of a hospital in London, with an endowment of 400
marks, “for the relief and help of poor, impotent and aged soldiers,”
who had suffered loss or wounds in the service of England. “For all
her man’s voice and masculine will,” says a recent writer, “she had a
woman’s heart, which warmed to the deserving old soldier, and whatever
her demerits in the eyes of those who wear the gown, her memory may at
least be cherished by those who wear the red coat.” She was the first
English sovereign to lend a pitying ear to the necessities of those
who had spent themselves in their country’s defence; while as for her
immediate successor, Elizabeth has been declared by the same writer to
have been “intolerably impatient of such miserable creatures”.[721]
But if the whole truth were known, it is certain that evidence would
be forthcoming to prove that “those who wear the gown” have as little
cause as soldiers to speak of Mary’s “demerits”. The history of
our universities has yet to be adequately written, but when it is
written, important instances will doubtless come to light, concerning
her connection with both. Dr. John Christopherson, her chaplain and
confessor, was installed master of Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1553,
and through him, the Queen became a considerable benefactress to this
college. She was especially anxious that it should possess a larger
and more suitable chapel, and on her initiative, the present building
was begun in the Tudor style in 1556.[722] Carrying her solicitude
still further, she added to the endowments of Trinity, the Rectories
of Heversham, Kendal and Kirkby Lonsdale in Westmorland, and those
of Sedbergh and Aysgarth in Yorkshire, then producing a revenue of
£338 per annum, for the maintenance of twenty scholars, ten choristers
and their master, thirteen poor scholars, fourteen chaplains and two
sizars.[723] In the Master’s Lodge, where Mary slept when she passed
through Cambridge, on her way to London at the time of her accession,
is a portrait of the Queen inscribed _Maria Regina Huius Collegii
Benefactrix_. The picture is one of the replicas of the portrait
painted by Sir Antonio More, before her marriage, with some variations
as to minor details. Seeing how entirely Mary has passed from the minds
and hearts of the English people, it is pleasant to learn that she is
still commemorated at Trinity College, in a prayer said after grace on
feast days.
The portrait which she presented to Christ Church, Oxford, and another
in the University galleries, show her interest in that seat of learning
also. During her short reign, two colleges were founded at Oxford;
Trinity, by the munificence of Sir Thomas Pope, and St. John’s, on the
site of Archbishop Chicheley’s foundation, the latter being the gift of
Sir Thomas White, of the company of Merchant Tailors.
Sir Aubrey de Vere, in his little-known poem _Mary Tudor_, struck a
right chord, in putting into the mouth of the unhappy Queen the words:—
Vampyre Calumny
Shall prey on my remains. My name shall last
To fright the children of the race I love.
But the real Mary was perhaps a truer prophet, when she foresaw the
dawn of a better day, and chose for her motto the device—
_Veritas temporis filia._
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 708: Boswell’s _Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D._, vol. v., p.
156.]
[Footnote 709: Peter Frarin of Antwerp, Master of Arts, and Bachelor of
both laws, writing in the next reign says enthusiastically: “I could
declare unto you how the traitorous gospellers of England gathered
a main host against their most virtuous lady Queen Marie, the rare
treasure, the peerless jewel, the most perfect pattern and example
of our days. How they shot arrows and darts against her court gates,
conspired her death, devised to poison and kill her with a dagg at
one time, with a privy dagger at another time, reviled her, called
her bastard, butcher; printed seditious books against her, wherein
they railed at her like hell-hounds, and named her traitorous Marie,
mischievous Marie” (_An oration against the unlawful insurrection
of the Protestants of our time under Pretence to reform Religion_,
Louvain, 1565).]
[Footnote 710: A more correct opinion of this trait in her character
than that expressed by Hume, Froude and some others, is given by a
writer in the _Dictionary of National Biography_ on John Heywood, the
wit and epigrammatist, who says that his fortunes were at their highest
under Mary, “who had a highly cultivated intelligence, and was fond of
innocent fun ... and it is said that his pleasantries, often acceptable
in her privy chamber, helped to amuse her even on her death-bed.”]
[Footnote 711: It has been elsewhere pointed out that Michiel did not,
in the matter of generosity, give Mary the credit she deserved. It was
natural to her to be lavishly generous, but the state of her finances
was such, that parsimony became an equivalent for honesty. This he
afterwards admits.]
[Footnote 712: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 884.]
[Footnote 713: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 714: _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. ii., 884. This version of
Michiel’s _Report_ is taken from a transcription made by Francesco
Contarini, Doge of Venice, who died in 1624. Sir Henry Ellis
transcribed another version which is in the Cottonian Library at the
British Museum (Nero B. vii.).]
[Footnote 715: _State Trials_, vol. i., p. 72.]
[Footnote 716: Reeves’ _History of English Law_, edited by W. F.
Finlason, “Criminal Law in Mary’s Reign,” vol. iii., p. 537, 538
_note_.]
[Footnote 717: Burnet, vol. ii., p. 448.]
[Footnote 718: Strype, _Eccles. Mem._, vol. iii., pt. i., p. 520.]
[Footnote 719: Cotton MS. Nero B. viii., f. 3, Brit. Mus.]
[Footnote 720: Lingard, vol. v., p. 533.]
[Footnote 721: _The History of the British Army_, by the Hon. J. W.
Fortescue, vol. i., pp. 126, 138.]
[Footnote 722: _Notes on the History of Trinity College_, by W. W.
Rouse Ball, p. 49.]
[Footnote 723: Harradon, _History of the University of Cambridge_, p.
185.]
APPENDIX.
A.
ORATIO SOLITA RECITARI SINGULO DIE ANTE IMAGINEM CHRISTI.
Concede mihi, misericors Deus, quæ tibi placita sunt ardenter
concupiscere, prudenter investigare, veraciter agnoscere, et perfecte
adimplere ad laudem et gloriam nominis tui. Ordina statum meum, et quod
a me requiris ut faciam, tribue ut sciam; et da exequi sicut oportet et
expedit animæ meæ. Da mihi Domine Deus meus, inter prospera et adversa
non deficere, ut in illis non extollar et in istis non deprimar; de
nullo gaudeam vel doleam nisi quod ducat ad te vel abducat a te. Nulli
placere appetam vel displicere timeam nisi tibi. Vilescant mihi Domine
omnia transitoria, et cara mihi sint omnia tua. Tædeat me gaudii quod
est sine te, nec aliud cupiam quod est extra te. Delectet me Domine,
labor qui est pro te; et tædiosa sit mihi omnis quies quæ est sine
te. Frequenter da mihi, Domine, cor ad te dirigere, et in defectione
mea cum emendationis proposito dolendo pensare. Fac me Domine Deus
obedientem sine contradictione, pauperem sine defectione, castum sine
corruptione, patientem sine murmuratione, humilem sine fictione, et
hilarem sine dissolutione, tristem sine dejectione, maturum sine
gravitate, agilem sine levitate, timentem te sine desperatione, veracem
sine duplicitate, operantem bona sine præsumptione, proximum corripere
sine elatione, ipsum ædificare verbo et exemplo sine simulatione.
Da mihi, Domine Deus, cor pervigil quod nulla abducat a te curiosa
cogitatio: da nobile, quod nulla deorsum trahat indigna affectio: da
rectum, quod nulla seorsum obliquet sinistra intentio: da firmum, quod
nulla frangat tribulatio: da liberum, quod nulla sibi vindicet violenta
affectio. Largire mihi, Domine Deus meus, intellectum te cognoscentem,
diligentiam te quærentem, sapientiam te invenientem, conversationem
tibi placentem, perseverantiam fidenter te expectantem, et fiduciam
te finaliter amplectentem, tuis pænis hic affligi per pœnitentiam,
tuis beneficiis in via uti per gratiam, tuis gaudiis et præmiis in
patria perfrui per gloriam. Qui vivis et regnas Deus per omnia sæcula
sæculorum. Amen.
The prayer of Saint Thomas of Aquin, translated out of Latin into
English by the most excellent Princess Mary, daughter to the most
high and mighty Prince and Princess, King Henry the VIII. and Queen
Katharine, his wife, in the year of Our Lord God 1527 and the eleventh
year of her age.
O merciful God, grant me to covet with an ardent mind those things
which may please Thee, to search them wisely, to know them truly, and
to fulfil them perfectly, to the laud and glory of Thy Name. Order
my living that I may do that which Thou requirest of me, and give me
grace, that I may know it, and have wit and power to do it, and that I
may obtain those things which may be most convenient for my soul. Good
Lord, make my way sure and straight to Thee, that I fail not between
prosperity and adversity, but that in prosperous things I may give
Thee thanks, and in adversity be patient, so that I be not lift up
with the one, nor oppressed with the other, and that I may rejoice in
nothing but in this which moveth me to Thee, nor be sorry for nothing
but for those which draweth me from Thee; desiring to please nobody,
nor fearing to displease any besides Thee. Lord, let all worldly things
be vile to me, for Thee, and that all Thy things be dear to me, and
Thou, good Lord, most special above them all. Let me be weary with that
joy which is without Thee, and let me desire nothing besides Thee.
Let the labour delight me which is for Thee, and let all the rest
weary me which is not in Thee. Make me to lift my heart oft-times to
Thee, and when I fall, make me to think and be sorry, with a steadfast
purpose of amendment. My God, make me humble without feigning, merry
without lightness, sad without mistrust, sober without dulness, fearing
without despair, gentle without doubleness, trusting in Thee without
presumption, telling my neighbour’s faults without mocking, obedient
without arguing, patient without grudging, and pure without corruption.
My most loving Lord and God, give me a waking heart, that no curious
thought withdraw me from Thee. Let it be so strong that no unworthy
affection draw me backward, so stable that no tribulation break it, and
so free that no election by violence make any change to it. My Lord
God, grant me wit to know Thee, diligence to seek Thee, wisdom to find
Thee, conversation to please Thee, continuance to look for Thee, and
finally hope to embrace Thee, by Thy penance here to be punished, and
in our way to use Thy benefits by Thy grace, and in heaven through Thy
glory to have delight in Thy joys and rewards. Amen.
B.
MARGARET, LADY BRYAN, TO CROMWELL.[724]
My Lord, when your Lordship was last here, it pleased you to say, that
I should not mistrust the King’s Grace, nor your Lordship, which word
was more comfort to me than I can write, as God knoweth. And now it
boldeth me to show you my poor mind. My Lord, when my Lady Mary’s Grace
was born, it pleased the King’s Grace to appoint me Lady Mistress, and
made me a Baroness. And so I have been a ... (mother?) to the children
his Grace have had since.
Now it is so, my Lady Elizabeth is put from that degree she was afore:
and what degree she is at now I know not but by hearing say; therefore
I know not how to order her, nor myself, nor none of hers that I have
the rule of: that is, her women and her grooms: beseeching you to
be good Lord to my Lady and to all hers. And that she may have some
raiments; for she hath neither gown nor kirtle, nor petticoat, nor no
manner of linen for smocks, nor kerchiefs, nor sleeves, nor rails,
nor body-stychets, nor handkerchiefs, nor mufflers, nor begens. All
this her Graces Mostake, I have driven off as long as I can, that by
my troth I cannot drive it no longer: beseeching you my Lord, that ye
will see that her Grace may have that is needful for her, as my trust
is ye will do.... My Lord, master Shelton would have my Lady Elizabeth
to dine and sup every day at the board of estate. Alas, my Lord, it is
not meet for a child of her age, to keep such rule yet. I promise you,
my Lord, I dare not take it upon me to keep her Grace in health, and
she keep that rule: for there she shall see divers meats and fruits and
wine, which would be hard for me to refrain her Grace from it. Ye know,
my Lord, there is no place of correction there. And she is yet too
young to correct greatly. I know well and she be there, I shall neither
bring her up to the King’s Grace’s honour, nor hers, nor to her health
nor my poor honesty. Wherefore I show your Lordship this my discharge,
beseeching you my Lord that my Lady may have a mess of meat to her
own lodging, with a good dish or two, that is meet for her to eat of.
And the reversion of the mess shall satisfy all her women, a gentleman
usher and a groom. Which been eleven persons on her side. Sure I am, it
will be (in to right little) as great profit to the King’s Grace, this
way as the other way. For if all this should be set abroad, they must
have three or four mess of meat, where this one mess shall suffice them
all with bread and drink, according as my Lady Mary’s Grace had afore,
and to be ordered in all things as her Grace was afore. God knoweth, my
Lady hath great pain with her great teeth, and they come very slowly
forth: and causeth me to suffer her Grace to have her will more than I
would. I trust to God and her teeth were well graft to have her Grace
after another fashion than she is yet; so I trust, the King’s Grace
shall have great comfort in her Grace. For she is as toward a child and
as gentle of conditions as ever I knew any in my life, Jesu preserve
her Grace ... Hunsdon 1536.
C.
LADY JANE GREY TO QUEEN MARY.[725]
Although my fault be such that, but for the goodness and clemency
of the queen, I can have no hope of finding pardon nor in craving
forgiveness, having given ear to those who at that time appeared, not
only to myself, but also to a great part of this realm to be wise, and
now have manifested themselves the contrary, not only to my and their
great detriment, but with the common disgrace and blame of all, they
having with such shameful boldness made so blameable and dishonorable
an attempt to give to others that which was not theirs, neither did
it become me to accept (wherefore rightly and justly am I ashamed to
ask pardon for such a crime) nevertheless, I trust in God, that as
now I know and confess my want of prudence, for which I deserve heavy
punishment, except for the very great mercy of your majesty, I can
still on many grounds conceive hope of your infinite clemency, it being
known that the error imputed to me has not been altogether caused by
myself. Because, although my fault may be great, and I confess it to
be so, nevertheless I am charged and esteemed guilty more than I have
deserved. For whereas I might take upon me that of which I was not
worthy, yet no one can ever say either that I sought it as my own,
or that I was pleased with it, or ever accepted it. For when it was
publicly reported that there was no more hope of the King’s life,
as the Duchess of Northumberland had before promised, that I should
remain in the house with my mother, so she, having understood this
soon after from her husband, who was the first that told it to me,
did not wish me to leave my house, saying to me that if God should
have willed to call the King to his mercy, of whose life there was
no lingering hope, it would be needful for me to go immediately to
the Tower, I being made by his majesty heir of his realm. Which words
being spoken to me thus unexpectedly, put me in great perturbation,
and greatly disturbed my mind, as yet soon after they oppressed me
much more. But I, nevertheless making little account of these words,
delayed to go from my mother. So that the Duchess of Northumberland
was angry with me, and with the duchess my mother, saying that if she
had resolved to keep me in the house, she should have kept her son,
my husband near her, to whom she thought I would certainly have gone,
and she would have been free from the charge of me. And in truth, I
remained in her house two or three nights, but at length obtained leave
to go to Chelsea, for my recreation, where soon after, being sick, I
was summoned by the Council, giving me to understand that I must go
that same night to Sion to receive that which had been ordered for me
by the King. And she who brought me this news was the lady Sidney, my
sister-in-law, the daughter of the Duchess of Northumberland, who told
me with extraordinary seriousness, that it was necessary for me to go
with her, which I did. When we arrived there, we found no one, but soon
after came the Duke of Northumberland, the marquis of Northampton, the
earl of Arundel, the earl of Huntingdon, and the earl of Pembroke. By
which lords I was long held in conversation before they announced to
me the death of the King, especially by the earls of Huntingdon and
Pembroke, who, with unwonted caresses and pleasantness, did me such
reverence as was not at all suitable to my state, kneeling down before
me on the ground, and in many other ways, making semblance of honouring
me. And acknowledging me as their sovereign lady (so that they made
me blush with infinite confusion) at length they brought to me the
duchess Frances my mother, the duchess of Northumberland, and the
marchioness of Northampton. The duke of Northumberland, as president
of the council, announced the death of King Edward, shewing afterward
what cause we had all to rejoice for the virtuous and praiseworthy
life that he had led, as also for his very good death. Furthermore
he pretended to comfort himself and the bystanders, by praising much
his prudence and goodness, for the very great care that he had taken
of his kingdom at the very close of his life, having prayed God to
defend it from the Popish faith, and to deliver it from the rule of his
evil sisters. He then said that his Majesty had well weighed an act
of Parliament, wherein it was already resolved, that whoever should
acknowledge the most serene Mary, that is your most serene Majesty
or the Lady Elizabeth, and receive them as true heirs of the crown
of England should be had all for traitors, one of them having been
formerly disobedient to her father Henry the 8th, and also to himself,
concerning the truth of religion, and afterwards also capital enemies
of the Word of God, and both bastards. Wherefore, in no manner did he
wish that they should be heirs of him, and of that crown, he being able
in every way to disinherit them. And therefore, before his death, he
gave order to the council that, for the honour they owed to him, and
for the love they bare to the realm, and for the affection that was
due to their country, they should obey this his last will. The Duke
then added, that I was the heir named by his Majesty, to succeed to the
crown, and that my sisters should likewise succeed me, in case of my
default of issue. At which words, all the lords of the council kneeled
down before me, telling me that they rendered to me the honour that was
due to my person, I being of true direct lineage heir to that crown,
and that it became them, in the best manner, to observe that which,
with deliberate mind, they had promised to the King, even to shed
their blood, exposing their own lives to death. Which things as soon
as I had heard, with infinite grief of mind, how I was beside myself
stupefied and troubled, I will leave it to those lords who were present
to testify, who saw me, overcome by sudden and unexpected grief, fall
on the ground, weeping very bitterly; and then, declaring to them my
insufficiency, I greatly bewailed myself for the death of so noble a
prince, and at the same time, turned myself to God, humbly praying and
beseeching him, that if what was given to me was rightly and lawfully
mine, his divine Majesty would grant me such grace and spirit that
I might govern it to his glory and service, and to the advantage of
this realm. On the day following (as is known to every one) I was
conducted to the Tower, and shortly afterwards were presented to me
by the Marquis of Winchester, lord high treasurer, the jewels, with
which he also brought me the crown, although it had never been demanded
from him by me, or by any one in my name; and he further wished me to
put it on my head, to try whether it really became me well or no. The
which, although with many excuses I refused to do, he nevertheless
added, that I might take it without fear, and that another also should
be made, to crown my husband with me. Which thing, I, for my part,
heard truly with a troubled mind, and with ill will, even with infinite
grief and displeasure of heart. And after the said lord was gone, and I
was reasoning of many things with my husband, he assented, that if he
were to be made King, he would be made so by me, by act of parliament.
But afterwards I sent for the earls of Arundel and Pembroke, and said
to them that if the crown belonged to me, I should be content to make
my husband a duke, but would never consent to make him king. Which
resolution of mine gave his mother (this my opinion being related to
her) great cause for anger and disdain, so that she, being very angry
with me, and greatly displeased, persuaded her son not to sleep with
me any longer as he was wont to do, affirming to me moreover that
he did not wish in any wise to be a duke, but a king. So that I was
constrained to send to him the earls of Arundel and Pembroke, who had
negotiated with him to come from me, otherwise I knew, that the next
morning he would have gone to Sion. And thus in truth was I deceived by
the duke and the council and ill-treated by my husband and his mother.
Moreover (as Sir John Gates has confessed) he (the duke) was the first
to persuade King Edward to make me his heir. As to the rest, for my
part, I know not what the council had determined to do, but I know for
certain that, twice during this time, poison was given to me, first
in the house of the duchess of Northumberland, and afterwards here in
the Tower, as I have the best and most certain testimony, besides that
since that time all my hair has fallen off, and all these things I have
wished to say, for the witness of my innocence, and the disburdening of
my conscience.
D.
CORONATION.[726]
The last of September Queen Mary rode through the city of London
towards Westminster, sitting in a chariot of cloth of tissue drawn
with six horses and trapped with the like cloth of tissue. She sat in a
gown of purple velvet furred with powdered ermine, having on her head a
caul of cloth of tinsel beset with pearl and stone, and above the same
upon her head, a round circlet of gold beset so richly with precious
stones, that the value thereof was inestimable, the same caul and
circlet being so massy and ponderous, that she was fain to bear up her
head with her hand, and the canopy was borne over her chariot. Before
her rode a number of gentlemen and knights, then judges, then doctors,
then bishops, then lords, then the Council, after whom followed the
Knights of the Bath, thirteen in number, in their robes, the bishop
of Winchester, Lord Chancellor, and the Marquess of Winchester, Lord
High Treasurer; next came the Duke of Norfolk, and after him the Earl
of Oxford who bare the sword before her, the Mayor of London in a gown
of crimson velvet bare the sceptre of gold, etc., after the Queen’s
Chariot, Sir Edward Hastings led her horse in his hand: then came
another chariot, having a covering all of cloth of silver, all white,
and six horses trapped with the like. Therein sate the Lady Elizabeth
and the lady Anne of Cleves, then ladies and gentlemen riding on horses
trapped with red velvet, and their gowns and kirtles likewise of red
velvet: after them followed two other chariots covered with red satin,
and the horses be trapped with the same, and certain gentlewomen
between every of the said chariots, riding in crimson satin, their
horses betrapped with the same, the number of the gentlewomen so riding
were forty-six, besides them in the chariots. At Fenchurch was a costly
pageant made by the Genoese; at Gracechurch corner there was another
pageant made by the Easterlings. At the upper end of Grace Street,
there was another pageant made by the Florentines, very high, on the
top whereof there stood four pictures, and in the midst of them and
most highest, there stood an angel all in green with a trumpet in his
hand, and when the trumpeter who stood secretly in the pageant did
sound his trump, the angel did put his trump to his mouth, as though
it had been the same that had sounded, to the great marvelling of many
ignorant persons. This pageant was made with three thoroughfares or
gates, &c. The Conduit in Cornhill ran wine, and beneath the Conduit,
a pageant made at the charges of the City, and another at the great
Conduit in Cheap, and a fountain by it running wine. The standard in
Cheap new painted, with the waits of the City aloft thereof playing.
The Cross in Cheap new washed and burnished. One other pageant at the
little Conduit in Cheap next to Paul’s made by the City, where the
Aldermen stood. And when the Queen came against them, the Recorder
made a short proposition to her, and then the Chamberlain presented to
her in the name of the Mayor and the City, a purse of cloth of gold
and 1,000 marks of gold in it. Then she rode forth, and in Paul’s
Churchyard against the School, one Master Haywood sate in a pageant
under a vine, and made to her an oration in Latin and English. Then
was there one Peter a Dutchman stood on the weather-cock of Paul’s
steeple, holding a streamer in his hand of five yards long, and waving
thereof stood some time on the one foot and shook the other, and then
kneeled on his knees, to the great marvel of all people. He had made
two scaffolds under him, one above the Cross, having torches and
streamers set on it, and one other over the bole of the Cross, likewise
set with streamers and torches, which could not burn, the wind being so
great. The said Peter had sixteen pounds thirteen shillings and four
pence given him by the City for his costs and pains, and all his stuff.
Then was there a pageant made against the Dean of Paul’s gate, where
the choristers of Paul’s played on vials, and sung. Ludgate was newly
repaired, painted and richly hanged, with minstrels playing and singing
there. Then was there another pageant at the Conduit in Fleet Street,
and the Temple Bar was newly painted and hanged. And thus she passed to
Whitehall at Westminster, where she took her leave of the Lord Mayor,
giving him great thanks for his pains, and the City for their cost. On
the morrow, which was the first day of October, the Queen went by water
to the old palace, and there remained till about eleven of the clock,
and then went on foot upon blue cloth, being railed on either side unto
Saint Peter’s Church, where she was solemnly crowned and anointed by
the Bishop of Winchester, which coronation and other ceremonies and
solemnities then used according to the old custom, was not fully ended
till it was nigh four of the clock at night, that she returned from
the church, before whom was then borne three swords sheathed and one
naked. The great service that day done in Westminster Hall at dinner by
divers noblemen would ask long time to write. The Lord Mayor of London
and twelve citizens kept the high cupboard of plate as butlers, and
the Queen gave to the Mayor for his fee, a cup of gold with a cover
weighing seventeen ounces.
E.
TRANSLATION OF CRANMER’S OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO THE POPE ON HIS
RECEIVING THE PALLIUM.[727]
In the name of God Amen. I Thomas elect of Canterbury from this hour
forward shall be faithful and obedient to St. Peter, and to the
holy Church of Rome, and to my lord the Pope, Clement VII. and his
successors canonically entering. I shall not be of counsel nor consent
that they shall lose either life or member, or shall be taken, or
suffer any violence, or any wrong by any means. Their counsel to me
credited by them, their messengers or letters I shall not willingly
discover to any person. The papacy of Rome, the rules of the holy
fathers and the regality of St. Peter I shall help and maintain,
and defend against all men (saving my order). The legate of the see
Apostolic going and coming, I shall honourably entreat and assist
in his necessities [_in suis necessitatibus_]. The rights, honours,
privileges, authorities of the Church of Rome, and of our Pope and
his successors I shall cause to be conserved, defended, augmented and
promoted. I shall not be in council, treaty or any act, in the which
anything shall be imagined against him, or the Church of Rome, their
rights, seats, honours or powers. And if I know any such to be moved
or compassed, I shall resist it to my power, and as soon as I can, I
shall advertise him or such as may give him knowlege. The rules of
the holy fathers, the decrees, ordinances, sentences, dispositions,
reservations, provisions and commandments apostolic to my power I shall
keep and cause to be kept by others. Heretics, schismatics and rebels
to our holy father and his successors I shall resist and prosecute
to my power. I shall come to the Synod when I am called, except I be
letted by a canonical impediment. The threshold of the Apostles I shall
visit yearly, personally or by my deputy. I shall not alienate or sell
the possessions of my Archbishopric without the Pope’s counsel. So help
me God and the holy Evangelists.
F.
OPINION OF THE MOST SERENE QUEEN OF ENGLAND WHICH SHE WROTE WITH HER
OWN HAND, AND GAVE TO HIS RIGHT REVEREND LORDSHIP THE LEGATE, CARDINAL
POLE, AT THE TIME WHEN THE SYNOD WAS HELD.[728]
First—I should wish that all the Church property, which for the
discharge of our conscience, the King my husband and I have totally
renounced, should be distributed as shall seem best to my Lord Cardinal
and to the rest of you, so that what has been commenced for the
increase of the religion in this kingdom, may produce its due effect.
Secondly—I desire, that the preachers by their piety and doctrine do
smother and extinguish all those errors and false opinions disseminated
and spread abroad by the late preachers, making provision at the same
time, that no book be printed sold or purchased, or brought into the
kingdom, without our licence, and under very strict penalties.
Thirdly—I should deem it well, for the churches and universities of
this kingdom, to be visited by such persons as my Lord Cardinal and we
may know to be fit and sufficient, to execute what is required in this
matter.
Fourthly—Touching the punishment of heretics, I believe it would be
well to inflict punishment at this beginning, without much cruelty or
passion, but without however omitting to do such justice on those who
choose by their false doctrines to deceive simple persons, that the
people may clearly comprehend that they have not been condemned without
just cause, whereby others will be brought to know the truth, and will
beware of letting themselves be induced to relapse into such new and
false opinions. And above all, I should wish that no one be burned in
London, save in the presence of some member of the Council; and that
during such executions, both here and elsewhere, some good and pious
sermons be preached, &c.
Fifthly—I really believe it to be by no means fitting, for a plurality
of benefices to be placed in the hands of one individual, but that
they should be so distributed that each priest may be resident, and
have care of his flock, whereas at present, quite the reverse is seen,
to which I attribute so great a lack of preachers throughout this
kingdom; nor are they of such a sort as they ought to be, so as by
their doctrine to overcome the diligence of false preachers in the time
of schism, and also by leading an exemplary life, without which in my
opinion, their sermons would not be of so much profit as I could wish;
and in like manner, as their good example will through them, effect
great good, so I acknowledge myself to be very greatly bound on my
part also to give the like example by aiding in the disposition and
maintenance of such persons, that they may perform their office and
duty well; not forgetting on the other hand, to have those punished
who shall do the contrary, that it may serve as a very evident example
to the whole of this kingdom, of how I discharge my conscience in this
matter, and administer justice by doing so.
G.
There is an account in Boswell’s _Life of Samuel Johnson_[729] of a
curious discussion carried on by Johnson, Goldsmith, Dr. Mayo and
Boswell as to the morality of punishing men for spreading religious
opinions dangerous to the State. Boswell having introduced the subject
of toleration is answered by:—
_Johnson_—“Every society has a right to preserve public peace and
order, and therefore has a good right to prohibit the propagation of
opinions which have a dangerous tendency. To say the _magistrate_ has
this right, is using an inadequate word: it is the society for which
the magistrate is agent. He may be morally or theologically wrong in
restraining the propagation of opinions which he thinks dangerous, but
he is politically right.” _Mayo_—“I am of opinion, Sir, that every
man is entitled to liberty of conscience in religion; and that the
magistrate cannot restrain that right.” _Johnson_—“Sir, I agree with
you. Every man has a right to liberty of conscience, and with that the
magistrate cannot interfere. People confound liberty of thinking with
liberty of talking, nay, with liberty of preaching. Every man has a
physical right to think as he pleases; for it cannot be discovered how
he thinks. He has not a moral right, for he ought to inform himself
and think justly. But, Sir, no member of a society has a right to
_teach_ any doctrine contrary to what the society holds to be true.
The magistrate, I say, may be wrong in what he thinks: but while he
thinks himself right, he may and ought to enforce what he thinks....”
_Goldsmith_—”... Our first reformers, who were burnt for not believing
bread and wine to be Christ——” _Johnson_ (interrupting him)—“Sir, they
were not burnt for not believing bread and wine to be Christ, but for
insulting those who did believe it. And, Sir, when the first reformers
began, they did not intend to be martyred: as many of them ran away
as could....” _Mayo_—“But, Sir, is it not very hard that I should
not be allowed to teach my children what I really believe to be the
truth?” _Johnson_—“Why, Sir, you might contrive to teach your children
_extra scandalum_; but, Sir, the magistrate, if he knows it has a
right to restrain you. Suppose you teach your children to be thieves?”
_Mayo_—“This is making a joke of the subject.” _Johnson_—“Nay, Sir,
take it thus:—that you teach them the community of goods; for which
there are as many plausible arguments as for most erroneous doctrines.
You teach them that all things at first were in common, and that no
man had a right to anything, but as he laid his hands upon it; and
that this still is, or ought to be the rule amongst mankind. Here,
Sir, you sap a great principle in society—property, and don’t you
think the magistrate would have a right to prevent you? or suppose you
should teach your children the notion of the Adamites, and they should
run naked into the streets, would not the magistrate have a right to
flog ’em into their doublets?” _Mayo_—“I think the magistrate has no
right to interfere till there is some overt act.” _Boswell_—“So, Sir,
though he sees an enemy to the state charging a blunderbuss, he is not
to interfere till it is fired off!” _Mayo_—“He must be sure of its
direction against the state.” _Johnson_—“The magistrate is to judge
of that. He has no right to restrain your thinking, because the evil
centres in yourself. If a man were sitting at this table, chopping
off his fingers, the magistrate, as guardian of the community, has
no authority to restrain him, however he might do it from kindness
as a parent—though, indeed, upon more consideration, I think he may;
as it is probable that he who is chopping off his own fingers, may
soon proceed to chop off those of other people. If I think it right
to steal Mr. Dilly’s plate I am a bad man; but he can say nothing to
me. If I make an open declaration that I think so, he will keep me
out of his house. If I put forth my hand, I shall be sent to Newgate.
This is the gradation of thinking, preaching and acting: if a man
thinks erroneously he may keep his thoughts to himself, and nobody
will trouble him; if he preaches erroneous doctrine, society may expel
him; if he acts in consequence of it, the law takes place and he is
hanged.” _Mayo_—“But, Sir, ought not Christians to have liberty of
conscience?” _Johnson_—“I have already told you so, Sir. You are coming
back to where you were.” _Boswell_—“Dr. Mayo is always taking a return
postchaise, and going the stage over again. He has it at half-price.”
_Johnson_—“Dr. Mayo, like other champions for unlimited toleration has
got a set of words. Sir, it is no matter, politically, whether the
magistrate be right or wrong. Suppose a club were to be formed to drink
confusion to King George the Third, and a happy restoration to Charles
the Third, this would be very bad with respect to the state; but every
member of that club must either conform to its rules, or be turned out
of it. Old Baxter, I remember, maintains, that the magistrates should
‘tolerate all things that are tolerable’. This is no good definition of
toleration upon any principle; but it shows that he thought some things
were not tolerable.” _Toplady_—“Sir, you have untwisted this difficult
subject with great dexterity.”
Cobbett’s _History of the Reformation_, which raised a storm of abuse
at the time of its publication, may not in these days be ignored by any
writer on the subject. Its statements, nearly all based on Lingard, who
is admittedly a fair and large-minded authority, have been found to
contain far less exaggeration than was formerly supposed. Cobbett lived
and died a Protestant, but his convictions did not bias him concerning
the seditious practices of Foxe’s Martyrs. He says:[730]—
“The real truth about these ‘Martyrs’ is that they were generally a
set of most wicked wretches, who sought to destroy the Queen and her
government, and under the pretence of conscience and superior piety,
to obtain the means of again preying upon the people. No mild means
could reclaim them; those means had been tried: the Queen had to employ
vigorous means, or to suffer her people to continue to be torn by
the religious factions, created not by her, but by her two immediate
predecessors, who had been aided and abetted by many of those who
now were punished, and who were worthy of ten thousand deaths each,
if ten thousand deaths could have been endured. They were, without a
single exception, apostates, perjurers or plunderers; and the greater
part of them had also been guilty of flagrant high treason against
Mary herself, who had spared their lives, but whose lenity they had
requited by every effort within their power to overset her authority
and government. To make particular mention of all the ruffians that
perished upon this occasion would be a task as irksome as it would be
useless; but there were amongst them three of Cranmer’s bishops and
himself! For now, justice at last overtook this most mischievous of all
villains, who had justly to go to the same stake that he had unjustly
caused so many others to be tied to; the three others were Hooper,
Latimer and Ridley, each of whom was indeed inferior in villainy to
Cranmer, but to few other men that have ever existed!”
H.
A COPY OF QUEEN MARY’S WILL FROM THE ORIGINAL, FORMERLY IN THE HANDS OF
MR. HALE OF ALDERLEY, GLOUCESTERSHIRE (Harl. MS. 6949, f. 29).
✠
MARY THE QUENE.
In the name of God, Amen. I Marye by the Grace of God Quene of Englond,
Spayne, France, both Sicelles, Jerusalem and Ireland, Defender of the
Faythe, Archduchesse of Austriche, Duchesse of Burgundy, Millayne and
Brabant, Countesse of Hapsburg, Flanders and Tyroll, and lawful wife to
the most noble and virtuous Prince Philippe, by the same Grace of God
Kynge of the said Realms and Domynions of England, &c. Thinking myself
to be with child in lawful marriage between my said dearly beloved
husband and Lord, altho’ I be at this present (thankes be unto Almighty
God) otherwise in good helthe, yet foreseeing the great danger which
by Godd’s ordynance remaine to all whomen in ther travel of children,
have thought good, both for discharge of my conscience and continewance
of good order within my Realmes and domynions to declare my last will
and testament; and by these presents revoking all other testaments and
last Wills by me at onny time heretofore made or devised by wryting or
otherwise, doe with the full consent, agreement and good contentment of
my sayd most Dere L^d and Husband, ordeyn and make my sayd last will
and testament in manner and forme following.
Fyrste I do commend my Soulle to the mercye of Almighty God the
maker and Redeemer thereof, and to the good prayers and helpe of the
most puer and blessed Virgin our Lady St. Mary, and of all the Holy
Companye of Heven. My body I will to be buried at the discression of my
executors: the interment of my sayd body to be made in such order and
with such godly prayers, Suffrages and Ceremonies as with consideracyon
of my estate and the laudable usage of Christ’s Church shall seme to
my executors most decent and convenient. Also my mynde and will ys,
that during the tyme of my interrment, and within oon moneth after my
decesse owte of this transitory lyfe, ther be distributed in almes, the
summe of ~oon thousand pownds~, the same to be given to the relefe of
pore prysoners, and other pore men and whomen by the discression of my
executors. And further I will that the body of the vertuous Lady and
my most dere and well-beloved mother of happy memory, Quene Kateryn,
whych lyeth now buried at Peterborowh, shall within as short tyme as
conveniently yt may after my burial, be removed, brought and layde
nye the place of my sepulture, in w^{ch} place I will my Executors to
cawse to be made honorable tombs or monuments for a decent memory of
us. And whereas the Howses of Shene and Sion, the which were erected
by my most noble Progenitor K. Henry the Fyfte for places of Religion
and prayer, the oon of Monks of th’ order of Carthusians and th’ other
of Nunns Ordines S^{tæ} Brigittæ wer in the tyme of the late Scisme
within this Realme clerly dissolv’d and defac’d, which sayde howses are
lately by my said dere Lord and husband and by me reviv’d and newly
erected accordynge to ther severall ancyent foundacyons, order and
Statutes, and we have restor’d and endow’d them severally with diverse
Mannors, londs, tenements and hereditaments, sometyme parcell of ther
severall possessions. For a further increase of their lyvyng, and to
thentent the said Religious persons may be the more hable to reedifye
some part of ther necessary howses that were so subverted and defac’d,
and furnish themselves with ornaments and other thyngs mete for Godd’s
servyce, I will and give unto ether of the said Religious howses of
Shene and Sion, the summe of ~fyve hundred pownds~ of lawfull money
of Englond, and I further will and give unto the Pryor and Covent of
the said house of Shene, and to ther Successours, Mannours, londs,
tenements, sometyme parcell of the possessions belongyng to the same
howse before the dissolucyon thereof and remayning in our possession,
to the clere yerly valewe of ~one hundred pownds~. And lykewyse I
will and give unto the Abbesse and Covent of the said house of Sion,
and to ther Successors, Mannours, lands, tenements and hereditaments
sometyme parcell of the possessions of the said house of Sion, and
remayning in our hands at the tyme of our decesse or of some other
late Spirituall possessions to the clere yerly valewe of ~one hundred
pownds~, the which summe of 100^{li} to ether of the said houses and
the said Mannours, londs, tenements and hereditaments to the said yerly
valewe of C^{li} to ether of the said houses I will shall be pay’d,
convey’d and assur’d to ether of the said houses within oon yere next
after my decesse; requyring and chargyng the Religious persons, the
which shall from tyme to tyme remayne and be in the said severall
houses, to praye for my Soulle and the Soulle of my said most Dere and
well-beloved husband the King’s Maj^{ty} when God shall call hym to
hys mercye owt of this transitory lyfe, and for the Soulle of the said
good and vertuous Quene my Mother, and for the Soulles of all other our
Progenitours, and namely the said Kynge Henry 5 as they were bounden
by the ancyente Statuts and ordyenances of ther Severall foundacyons.
Item, I will and geve to the Warden and Covent of the Observante Fryers
of Greenwiche the summe of ~five hundred pownds~. Item, I will and geve
to the Pryor and Covent of the black fryers at St. Bartholomews within
the suburbs of London, the sum of 400 ~Marks~. And likewise unto the
Fryers of the said Observante order beyng at Southampton, the summe
of 200 pownds. Item, I will and geve unto the pore Nunns of Langley
the Summe of 200^{li} ~pounds~. All which said severall legacies unto
the said Fryers and Nunns, I will that my Executors shall cawse to
be payd to ther severall uses within oon yere next after my decesse,
as well for the relefe and comfort, as towards the reparacyons and
amendments of ther necessary howses, and to provyde them some more
ornaments for their Churches, for the better service of Almighty God.
Also I will and geve unto the Abbot and Covent of the said Monastery of
Westminster the summe of 200^{li} ~pownds~ or else as many ornaments
for ther Church ther, as shall amounte unto the said Summe of CC^{li}
to be pay’d and deliver’d unto them within oon yere next after my
decesse by my said Executors. And I will, charge and requyre the said
Abbot and Covent, and all others the Fryers and Nunns and ther Covents
above remembred, to pray for my Soulle, and for the Soulle of my said
most Dere and well beloved Lord and husband, the King’s Highnesse,
by whose specyall goodnesse they have been the rather erected, and
for the Soulle of my said most dere beloved mother the Quene, and for
the Soulles of all our Progenitors with dayly Masses, Suffrages and
prayers. Also I will and geve for and to the relefe of the pore Scolers
in ether of the Universities of Oxinford and Cambridge the Summe of
500^{li} ~pownds~, that ys to say, to ether of the said Universities
the Summe of 500^{li} the which summe I will that my Executors shall
delyver within oon yere next after my decesse unto the Chancellors
and others of the most grave & wisest men of the same Universities,
to be distributed and geven amongst the said pore Scolers, from tyme
to tyme as they shall thynke expedient for ther relefe and comfort,
and specyally to such as intend by Godds grace to be Religious persons
and Priests. And whereas I have by my warrant under my Signe Manuell
assigned and appoynted londs, tenements, and hereditaments of the yerly
valewe of 200^{li} and somewhat more to be assur’d unto the Master
and Brotherne of the Hospitall of Savoy, fyrste erected and founded
by my Grandfather of most worthy memory Kynge Henry 7, my mynde will
and intent ys, and I charge my Executors that yf the said londs be
not assur’d unto the said howse of Savoy in my lyfetime, that yt be
done as shortly as maye be after my decesse, or else some other londs,
tenements & hereditaments, sometyme parcell of the possessions of the
said howse, to the said yerely valewe of 200^{li} and as muche other
londs, tenements and hereditaments, late parcell of the possessions of
the said howse, or of some other the late spirituall londs, as shall
make up together with the londs I have before this tyme assur’d unto
the said howse, and the which the said Master and his Brotherne doth
by vertue of our former grant enjoye, the summe of 500^{li} of clere
yerely valewe, which is agreeable with thendowment my said Grandfather
indow’d the same howse with, at the first erection thereof. Willynge
and chargynge the said M^r and his Brotherne and ther successors, not
only to keep and observe the anciente rewles and statuts of the said
howse accordynge to the foundacyon of the said Kynge my Grandfather,
but also to praye for the Soulles of me, and of my said most dere Lord
and Husband, when God shall call hym out of this transitory lyfe,
and of the said Quene my Mother, and of all others our Progenitors
Soulles. And forasmuch as presently there ys no howse or hospitall
specyally ordeyn’d and provyded for the relefe and helpe of pore and
old Soldiers, and namely of such as have been or shall be hurt or
maymed in the warres and servys of this Realme, the which we thynke
both honour, conscyence and charyte willeth should be provided for. And
therefore my mynde and wyll ys, that my Executors shall, as shortly
as they may after my decesse, provide some convenient howse within or
nye the Suburbs of the Cite of London, the which howse I would have
founded and erected of oon Master and two Brotherne, and these three
to be Priests. And I will that the said howse or Hospitall shall be
indow’d with Mannours, londs tenements and hereditaments some tyme
parcell of the Spirituall londs and possessions, to the clere yerly
valewe of 400 ~Markes~ whereof I will, that the said M^r shall have
30 pownds by the yere, and ether of the said two brotherne 20^{li} by
the yere, and the rest of the revenewe of the said londs, I will that
my Executors shall limyt and appoynt by good ordynances and statuts,
to be made and stablyshed upon the erection of the said Hospitall, how
the same shall be us’d and imployed, wherein specyally I would have
them respect the relefe succour and helpe of pore, impotent and aged
Souldiers, and chefely those that be fallen into exstreme poverte,
havyng no pencyon or other pretence of lyvyng, or are become hurt or
maym’d in the warres of this Realme, or in onny servyce for the defence
and suerte of ther Prince and of ther Countrey, or of the Domynions
thereunto belongyng. Also I will and specyally charge theexecutors
of this my present testament and last Will, that yf I have injuried
or done wrong to onny person (as to my remembrance willingly I have
not) yet yf onny such may be proved, and lykewyse all such detts as
I owe to onny person sens the tyme I have been Quene of this Realme,
and specyally the lone money (the which diverse of my lovyng subjects
have lately advanced and lent unto me) that the same injuries (yf onny
be) and the said detts and lone money above all thyngs, as shortly as
may be after my decesse be recompenced, restor’d and pay’d, and that
doon, my mynde and will ys, that all such detts as were owing by my
late Father, King Henry 8^{th} or by my late brother K. Edward the
6^{th}, shall likewyse, as they conveniently may, be satisfyed and
payd. And for as much as yt hath pleased Almighty God of hys infenyte
marcye & goodnesse, to reduce this Realme unto the unyte of Christ’s
Church, from the which yt declyned, and during the tyme thereof
diverse londes and other hereditaments, goods and possessions geven
and dispos’d, as well by sondry of my Progenitors as by other good
and vertuous people to sondrye places and Monasteries of Religion,
and to other Ecclesiastical howses and persons, for the mayntenance
of Godds servyce, and for continuall prayer to be made for the relefe
both of the lyvyng and of the dedde, were taken away and committed to
other uses; I have before this tyme thought yt good, for some part of
satisfaction thereof, and to be a piece of the dewtie I owe unto God,
that some porcyon of the londs and hereditaments that were sometyme the
goods of the said Church shold be restor’d ageyne unto good and Godly
uses, and for the accomplyshing thereof I have, with the consent of my
said most Dere Lord and Husband the Kyng’s Majesty, and by theauthority
of Parliament, and with the advyce and counsell of the Most Rev.
Father in God and my right intierly beloved Cousyne Cardynall Poole,
Archbp̃. of Cant. and Primate of Englond, who hath specyally travelled
as a good Mynister and Legate sent from the Apostolique See to reduce
this Realme unto the Unyte of the said See, Renounc’d and geven over
as well diverse parsonages Impropriate, tythes and other Spirituall
hereditaments, as also divers other profits and hereditaments some
tyme belongyng to the said Ecclesiasticall and Spirituall persons and
howses of Religion, to be ordered, used and imploy’d by the said most
Reverend Father in God, in such manner and forme as ys prescribed and
lymitted by the said Statute, and as to hys godly wysdome shall be
thowght mete and convenyent. My mynde, will and pleasure ys, that such
ordynances and devyses as the said most Rev^d Father in God hath made
and devised, or shall hereafter make and devise, for and concerning the
said parsonages, tithes and other Spirituall hereditaments (the which
I have committed to his order and disposition) shall be inviolably
observ’d. Requyryng my said Cousyne and most Rev^d Father in God, as
he hath begun a good work in this Realme, soe he will (cheifly for
God’s sake and glory, and for the good will he beareth unto me, and to
this my Realme, beynge his native Countrey) doe, as much as he maye,
by Godd’s grace, to fynishe the same. And specyally to dispose and
order the said Parsonages, tithes, and other Spirituall possessions
and hereditaments commytted to his order, with as much speed as he
convenyently may, accordynge to the trust and confidence that my most
Dere Lord and Husband and I, and the whole Realme have repos’d in hym,
and yn hys virtue and wysdome, for the which God shall rewarde hym, and
this hys Countrey honour and love hym. And for hys better assistance in
theexecution thereof, I will, charge and requyre my Executors, and all
others of my Counsell, and the rest of my good and faythfull Subjects,
that they to the uttermost of ther power be aydynge and assistynge
unto my said Cousyne, as they tender the benefit of ther Countrey and
ther own Commodyte. Furthermore I will and charge my said Executors,
that yf onny person or persons have pay’d unto my use onny Summe of
money for the purchase of onny londs, tenements and hereditaments the
assurances whereof to them in my lyfe tyme ys not perfitted, that the
said Person or Persons be, within such short tyme after my decesse as
may be, either repay’d ther mony, or else have good assurances of the
said londs, or of others of the like valewe, made unto them accordynge
to the laws of this Realme. Also I will that my Executors shall within
oon quarter of a year next after my decesse, destribute amongst my pore
Servants that be ordinary, and have most nede, the Summe of 2000^{li}.
willyng them in the destribution thereof to have a specyall regarde
unto such as have serv’d me longest and have no certainty of lyvyng of
my gifte to lyve by after my decesse. And as towchyng the dispocyon
of this my Imperiall Crowne of England, and the Crowne of Ireland,
with my title to France, and all the dependances, of the same, whereof
by the mere provydence of Almighty God I am the lawful Inheritor and
Quene: my will, mynde, and entent ys, that the s^d Imperiall Crowne of
Englond and Ireland, and my Title to France, and all the dependances,
and all other my Honours, Castells, fortresses, mannours, londs,
tenements, prerogatyves and hereditaments whatsoever, shall wholly and
entirely descend remayne & be unto the heyres, issewe and frewte of my
bodye, accordyng to the laws of this Realme. Neverthelesse the order,
Governnment and Rewle of my said issewe, and of my said Imperiall
Crowne, and the dependances thereof, during the Minoryte of my said
heyre and Issewe, I specyally recommend unto my said most Dere and
well beloved Husband, accordynge to the laws of this my said Realme
for the same provided. Willing, charging, and most hertily requyryng
all and singular my lovyng, obedient and naturall subjects, by that
profession and dewtye of allegiance that by God’s commandment they
owe unto me, beyng ther naturall Sovereigne Lady & Quene; And also
desyryng them (per viscera Misericordiæ Dei) that sens yt hath pleased
hys devyne Majesty, far above my merits to shew me so great favour in
this world, as to appoynte me so noble, vertuous, and worthy a Prince
to be my husband, as my said most Dere and intirely beloved Husband
the King’s Majesty ys, whose endeavour, care and stodie hath ben, and
chefely ys, to reduce this Realme unto the Unyte of Christ’s Church
and trewe Religion, and to the anncyente and honourable fame and honor
that yt hath ben of, and to conserve the same therein; And not dowting
but accordyng to the trust that ys repos’d in hys Maj^{ty}, by the
laws of this Realme, made concernyng the Government of my Issewe, that
hys Highnesse will discharge the same to the glory of God, to hys own
honour, to the suerty of my said Issewe, and to the profit of all my
Subjects; that they therefore will use themselves in such humble and
obedient sort and order, that hys Majesty may be the rather incoraged
and provoked to continewe hys good and gracious disposition towards
them and this Realme. And for as much as I have no Legacy or jewell
that I covet more to leve unto hys Majesty to reqyte the nobility of
hys harte towards me and this Realme, nor he more desirous to have,
than the love of my Subjects, I doe therefore once agayne reqyre them
to bere and owe unto his Highnesse the same dewtie and love that they
naturally doe and should owe unto me, and in hope they will not forget
the same, I do specyally recommend the same dewtye and love unto hys
Highnesse, as a legacye, the which I trust he shall enjoye. Also I will
and geve unto my said issewe all my jewells, ships, municyons of warre,
and artillery, and after my detts (and the detts of my said late Father
and brother, King Henry 8. and King Edward 6.) satisfied and pay’d, and
this my present testament and last will perform’d, I geve and bequethe
unto my said issewe all the rest of my treasure, plate, goods and
Chattells whatsoever they be. And callynge to my Remembrance the good
and dewtyfull service to me doon by diverse of my lovyng Servants and
faythfull Subjects, to whom, as yet, I have not given onny condigne
recompence for the same, therefore I am fully resolv’d and determyn’d
to geve to every of them whose names are hereafter mention’d such
legacies and gifts as particularly ensueth.
[Then follow in the Will several particular Legacies to her women and
other Servants about her, which in all amount to 3400^{li} among which
she gives Dr. Malet her Almoner and Confessor, to praye for her the
summe of 200^{li} and to the poor fryers of the Order of St. Dominick,
erected and placed within the University of Oxford, to pray for her
soul, her Husband’s, Mother’s, and all other her progenitours the summe
of 200^{li}; besides all this she gives 20^{li} a year apiece to Father
Westweek and Father Metcalfe and then it followes in her Will.]
And to thentente this my last will and testament may be the more
inviolably observ’d, fulfill’d and executed, I will the Issewe of my
bodye that shall succede me in th’ Imperiall Crowne of this Realme
upon my blessing, that he or she be no Impedyment thereof, but that
to the uttermost of his or her power, they do permytt and suffer my
said Executors to performe the same, and to ayd them in theexecution
thereof. And yf ther shall be any imperfection in the assurances of
the londs that I have devis’d and appoynted to the howses of Religion
or to Savoye, or to the hospitall I mynde to have erected for the
pore and maymed Souldiers, or onny negligence be in my Executors in
the performance and execucyon of this my testament and last will,
that then I will and charge my said Issewe on my blessing, to supply
and accomplyshe all such defects and imperfections. And I charge my
said Executors, as they will answer before God at the dredfull day of
Judgement, and as they will avoyde such commynacyons, threatnyngs,
and the severe justice of God pronounc’d and executed against such
as are brekers and violaters of wills and testaments, that they to
the uttermost of ther powers and wyttes, shall see this my present
Testament & last will perform’d and executed, for the which I trust,
God shall reward them, and the world commend them. And as yt hath stood
with the good contentment and pleasure of my said most dere beloved
Lord and husband the King’s Majesty, that I should thus devise my
Testament and last will, so I dowte not, but that his most noble harte
desyreth and wysheth that the same should accordyngly take effect after
yt shall please God to call me out of this transytory lyfe to his
marcye. And havyng such exsperience of his gracyus faveure, zeale and
love towards me as I have, I am fully perswaded that no person either
can or will more honorably and ernestly travell in thexecution of this
my Testam^t and last will, then his Majesty will doo. Therefore I most
humbly beseech his Highnesse that he will vouchsafe and be pleas’d to
take upon hym the pryncipall and the chefest care of thexecutyon of
this my present Testament and last will, and to be a patron to the rest
of my Executors of the same in thexecutyon thereof.
~And I do humbly beseeche my saide most dearest lorde and husbande to
accepte of my bequeste, and to kepe for a memory of me one jewell,
being a table dyamond which themperours Majesty, his and my most
honourable Father, sent unto me by the Cont degmont, at the insurance
of my sayde lorde and husbande, and also one other table dyamonde
whiche his Majesty sent unto me by the marques de les Nanes, and the
Coler of golde set with nyne dyamonds, the whiche his Majestye gave me
the Epiphanie after our Maryage, also the rubie now sett in a Golde
ryng which his Highnesse sent me by the Cont of Feria, all which things
I require his Majestye to dispose at his pleasure, and if his Highnesse
thynck mete, to the Issue betwene us.~
Also I reqyre the said most Reverend Father in God and my said most
dere beloved Cosyn the Lord Cardynall Poole, to be oon of my Executors,
to whom I geve for the paynes he shall take aboute the thexecucyon of this
my present Testament the summe of ~one thousande powndes~. And for the
specyall truste and good service that I have alweyes had and founde
in the most Rev^d Father in God, and my right trustye and right well
beloved Councellour Nicholas Abp of Yorke, my Chancellor of Englonde,
and in my right trusty and right wel beloved Cosyns William, Marques
of Wynchester, L^d Treasorer of Englonde, Henry Erle of Arundel, Henry
Erle of Westmorland, Francis Erle of Shrewsbury, Edward Erle of Derbye,
Thomas Erle of Sussex, W^m Erle of Pembroke, and in my right trusty
and well beloved Councellors Visc, Mountague, Edward Lord Clynton,
highe Admyrall of Englonde, and in the Rev^d Father in God and my right
trusty and well beloved Councellors Thomas Bishop of Elye, Edward
Lord Hastings of Lowtheborowghe, Lorde Chamberlayne of my Howsehold,
S^r W^m Petre K^t Chancellor of my order of the Garter, and S^r W^m
Cordell K^t M^r of the Rowlles of my Court of Chancerye. I ordeyne and
constitute them also Executors of this my present Testament and last
Will, and I geve unto every of the said L^d Chancellor, Lord Tresorer,
etc., for their paynes and travell therein to be taken, the Summe of
~fyve hundred powndes~. And unto every of the said Visc Montague, Lord
Admyrall, etc., for ther paynes likewise to be taken ~fyve hundred
marckes~.
And for the greate experyence I have had of the trothe fidelite and
good servyce of my trustye and righte well beloved Servants and
Councellors, S^r Tho. Cornwallis K^t Comptroller of my howsehold, S.
Henry Jernegan K^t Master of my horses, M^r Boxall, my Chefe Secretary,
S^r Edward Waldegrave K^t Chancellor of my Duchy of Lancaster, S^r
Francis Englefeld K^t Master of my Court of Wards and lyveries, and S^r
John Baker K^t Chancellor of my Exchequer I geve unto every of them for
ther paynes and good servyce to be taken, as assistants to this my said
testament, and to be of Council with my said Issewe, the Summe of ~two
hundred powndes~. I do appoynte, name and ordeyne them to be Assistants
unto my said Executors in thexecucyon of this my said Testament, and to
be with them of the Council to my said issewe. And I geve unto every
of my said Servants and Councellors last before remembered whom I have
appoynted to be assistants to my said Executors, as ys aforesaid,
for ther good servyce and paynes to be taken and doon with my said
Executors for thexecucyon of this my present Testament and last Will,
the Summe of ~two hundred powndes~, before geven unto ether of them.
Nevertheless my playne Will, mynde and entent ys, that yf onny of my
said Councillors whom I have appoynted before by this my Testament
to be my Executors of the same, shall at the tyme of my decesse be
indetted unto me in onny Summes of money, or ought to be and stond
charged unto me or to my heirs or Successors for onny Acc^{ts} or
summes of money by hym or them receyved, whereof at the tyme of my
decesse he ys not lawfully discharged. That the said Executor or
Executors, who shall be so indetted or ought to be charg’d with onny
such Acc^{ts} shall not, for that he or they be named & appoynted onny
of my Executars, be exonerate and discharged of the said detts or
acc^{ts}, but thereof shall remayne charged, as tho’ he or they had
not been named of my said Executors, and in that respect only shall
be excepted to all intents as none of my said Executors, to take any
benefit or discharge of the said dette or acc^{ts}.
And in wytnesse that this ys my present Testament and last Will, I have
sign’d diverse parts of the same with my Signe Manuell, and thereunto
also have cawsed my prevye Signett to be put, the Thirtieth day of
Marche, in the yere of our Lorde God a Thousande fyve hundred fyfty and
eight, and in the fourth yere of the Reigne of my said moste dere lorde
and husband, and in the fyfte yere of the Reigne of me the said Quene.
These beynge called to be wytnesses, whose names hereafter followythe
HENRY BEDINGFELD JOHN THROKMORTON
THOMAS WHARTON R. WILBRAHM
MARYE THE QUENE
Hereabouts
was her Seale being
the Arms of England
France and Spayne, and
round the Seale was a
collar of Roses as it
seemed to me to
be.—H.
Throughout this Will those words which are underlined were written with
the Queen’s own hand in the original.
(Here follows the Codicil, which was afterwards annexed by the Queen to
her Will.)
MARYE THE QUENE.
This Codicell made by me Marye by the Grace of God Quene of Engl^d &c.,
& lawful wyfe to the most noble and vertuous Prynce Philippe, by the
same grace of God, Kynge of the said Realmes and Domynions of Englond,
&c., the twenty-eighth day of October, in the yere of our Lord God
1558, and in the 5^{th} yere of the reign of my said most dere Lord and
husbande, and in the Sixth yere of the reigne of me the said Quene.
The which Codicell I will and ordeyne shall be added and annexed unto
my last Will and Testament heretofore by me made and declared. And my
mynd and will ys, that the said Codicell shall be accepted, taken and
receyved as a part and parcell of my said last will and testament, and
as tho’ it were incorporate with the same to all entents and purposes,
in manner and forme followynge.
Fyrste, whereas I the said Quene have with the good contentment and
pleasure of my said most dere belov’d Lorde and husbande the Kyng’s
Majesty devis’d & made my said last will and testament, beryng date the
30^{th} day of Marche last past, and by the same, for that as I then
thowght myself to be with childe did devise and dispose the Imperiall
Crowne of this Realme of Englond and the Crowne of Ireland, with my
title to France and all the dependances thereof, and all other honours,
Castells, Fortresses, Prerogatives and hereditaments, of what nature,
kynde or qualitie soever they be, belongyng to this crowne, unto the
heires, Issewe and frewte of my body begotten, & the government, order,
and rewle of the said heire and Issewe I recommended unto my said most
dere Lord and husband duryng the mynoryte of the said heire, accordynge
to the lawes of this Realme in that case provided.
Forasmuch as God hath hitherto sent me no frewte nor heire of my bodie,
yt ys onlye in his most devyne providence whether I shall have onny
or noo, Therefore both for the discharge of my conscyence and dewtie
towards God and this Realme, and for the better satisfaction of all
good people, and to thentent my said last will and Testament (the which
I trust, is agreeable to God’s law and to the laws of this Realme) may
be dewly performed, and my dettes (pryncipally those I owe to many
of my good subjects, and the which they most lovyngly lent unto me)
trewly and justly answered and payed, I have thought it good, fealynge
myself presently sicke and week in bodye (and yet of hole and perfytt
remembrance, our Lord be thanked) to adde this unto my said testament
and last will, viz. Yf yt shall please Almighty God to call me to his
mercye owte of this transytory lyfe without issewe and heire of my
bodye lawfully begotten, Then I most instantly desire et per viscera
misericordiæ Dei, requyre my next heire & Successour, by the Laws and
Statutes of this Realme, not only to permytt and suffer theexecutors of
my said Testament and last will and the Survivours of them to performe
the same, and to appoynte unto them such porcyon of treasure & other
thynges as shall be suffycient for the execution of my said testament
and last will, and to ayd them in the performance of the same, but
also yf such assurance and conveyance as the Law requyreth for the
State of the londs which I have devysed and appoynted to the howses of
Religion, and to the Savoye, and to the Hospitall I would have erected,
be not suffycyent and good in Lawe by my said Will, then I most hertily
also requyre both for God’s sake, and for the honour and love my said
heyre and Successour bereth unto me, that my said heyre and Successour
will supplye the Imperfection of my said will and testament therein,
& accomplyshe and fynishe the same accordynge to my trew mynde and
intente, for the dooyng whereof my said heire and Successour shall, I
dowte not, be rewarded of God, and avoyde thereby his severe justice
pronounced and executed ag^t all such as be violaters and brekers of
wills and testaments, and be the better assisted with his specyall
grace and favour in the mynistracyon of ther Regall function and
office, And the more honored of the world and loved of ther subjects,
whose natural zeale and love (as a most precious jewell unto every
Prynce) I leve and bequeathe unto my said heire and Successour for a
specyall Legacye and bequeste, the which I most humbly beseech our
Lord, the same may enjoye and possesse (as I trust they shall) chefely
to the advancement of God’s glorye & honor, and to the good quyetnesse
and Government of this Realme, the which two thynges I most tender.
And albeit my said most Dere Lord and Husband shall for defawte of
heyre of my bodye have no further government, order and rewle within
this Realme and the domynions thereunto belongynge, but the same doth
and must remayne, descend, and goo unto my next heyre and Successour,
accordyng to the Lawes and Statuts of this Realme, yet I most humbly
beseech his Majesty, in recompence of the great love and humble dewtye
that I have allwayes born and am bounden to bere unto his Majesty, and
for the great zeale and care the which his Highness hath always sens
our marriage professed and shew’d unto this Realme, and the Subjects
of the same, and for the ancyente amyte sake that hath always ben
betwene our most Noble Progenitours and betwene this my Realme and the
Low Countries, whereof his Majesty is now the enheritour, And finally,
as God shall reward hym, and I praye (I hope among the elect servants
of God) that yt may please his Majesty to shew hymself as a Father in
his care, as a Brother or member of this Realme in his love and favour,
and as a most assured and undowted frend in his powre and strengthe to
my said heire and Successour, and to this my Country and the Subjects
of the same, the which I trust his Highnesse shall have just cause to
thynke well bestowed, for that I dowte not, but they will answer yt
unto his Majesty with the like benevolence and good will, the which I
most hertily requyre them to doo, bothe for my sake, and for the honour
and suerty of this Realme. And In witnesse that I have cawsed this
Codicell to be made, and that my will & entent ys, that the same shall
be annexed and added unto my said former testament & last will, the
which my full mynde and will ys shall stonde and remayne in perfytte
force and effect, to all intents and purposes, and this Codicell to
be accepted taken and declared only as a part and parcell of my said
testament and last Will, I have sign’d this Codicell with my Signe
Manuell, and have also cawsed my privy Signet to be put thereunto, the
day and yere fyrste in this Codicell above written. These beying called
to be my wytnesses as well to my said testament and last will as to
this Codicell whose names followeth.
MARYE THE QUENE
[She wrote her name here in
smaller letters and not so well as
to the bottom of her will.—H.]
EDMOND PECKHAM THOMAS WENDYE
JOHN WILLIS BARNARD HAMPTON
Here the
seale was fix’d
being the same
as to the end of
her Will.
H.
On the outside cover of this Will was written with the Queen’s own hand
these words, with a Crosse at the top:—
✠
This is the laste wyll and testament of me Marye the Quene.
“The copy from which the Harleian transcript is taken was made from the
original will at the beginning of the last century, by the Rev. George
Harbin, Chaplain to Lord Weymouth, a very zealous and diligent searcher
into historical records, whose papers are now with the above copy in
the hands of Sir Alexander Malet, Bart. Great pains have been taken to
trace what has become of the Will itself, but without success. It is
to be regretted that the copy is not quite complete, and that Harbin
has modernised the orthography in many instances. Such as it is, it is
printed _verbatim_ from his autograph.”
Note by Sir Frederick Madden, _Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess
Mary_ (Appendix, No. iv.).
A PRAYER OF THE LADY MARY TO THE LORD JESU; AGAINST THE ASSAULTS OF
VICES.
Most benign Lord Jesu! Behold me wretched beggar, and most vile sinner,
prostrate here before the feet of thy mercy. Behold the wounds, sores,
griefs and vices of my soul, (which alas! I have brought into the same
by sin) that they may be healed. Most Merciful Lord Jesu! Have pity
upon mine infirmities, captivity and infelicity: by means whereof my
miserable soul is pressed down to earthly things, and divided into
sundry desires.
Most loving Jesu! I beseech thee for thy great love’s sake, which
caused thee to deliver thy soul into the hands of sinners, to be bound
and crucified; and which also did force thee to remain three hours
upon the cross, more than the nails either of thy hands or feet had
power to do. For thy charity I humbly desire thee to loose the yoke of
my captivity, and to deliver me from all my vices, concupiscence, and
evil inclinations, to defend me from all the assaults of mine enemies,
and in time of temptation to help me. Moreover, quench and pluck up
by the roots in me all private love, all inordinate motions, passions
and affections, all provokings, readiness and inclination to pride,
wrath, envy and vainglory, with such other like. For it is in thy
power only to deliver me from these things. Sweet Jesu! Fulfil me with
thy grace, and most perfect charity. Make me to continue in goodness,
that I may eschew all occasion of sin, strongly overcome temptation,
subdue the flesh to the Spirit, persecute and banish sin, and obey thy
inspiration; escape the deceits and frauds of the Devil, never consent
to any sin, nor nourish anything that should displease thee. But
cause me most fervently to thirst for thy honour, laud and glory, most
faithfully to prefer the same, and to give and submit myself wholly
to thy will. My Lord God, give me grace to cleave to thee only with
a clean and pure heart, that I may be unite and knit to thee without
separation by a most chaste and fervent love. Amen.
A MEDITATION TOUCHING ADVERSITY, MADE BY MY LADY MARY’S GRACE, 1549.
This natural life of ours is but a pilgrimage from this wandring world,
and exile from our own country: that is to say, a way from all misery
to thee (Lord) which art our whole felicity. And lest the pleasantness
and commodity of this life should withdraw us from the going to the
right and speedy way to thee, thou dost stir and provoke us forward,
and as yet ward prick us with thornes, to the intent we should covet
a quiet rest, and end of our journey. Therefore sickness, weepings,
sorrow, mourning, and in conclusion all adversities be unto us as
spurs; with the which we being dull horses, or rather very asses, are
forced not to remain long in this transitory way. Wherefore Lord,
give us grace to forget this wayfaring journey, and to remember our
proper and true country. And if thou do add a weight of adversity, add
thereunto strength, that we shall not be overcome with that burden:
but having our minds continually erected and lift up to thee, we may
be able strongly to bear it. Lord! all things be thine; therefore do
with all things without any exception as shall seem convenient to thine
unsearchable wisdom. And give us grace never to will but as thou wilt.
So be it.
A PRAYER TO BE READ AT THE HOUR OF DEATH.
O Lord Jesu! which art the health of all men living, and the
everlasting life of them which die in faith, I, wretched sinner give
and submit myself wholly unto thy most blessed will. And I being
sure that the thing cannot perish which is committed unto thy mercy,
willingly now I leave this frail and wicked flesh, in hope of the
resurrection; which in better wise shall restore it to me again. I
beseech thee most merciful Lord Jesus Christ, that thou wilt by thy
grace make strong my soul against all temptations; and that thou wilt
cover and defend me with the buckler of thy mercy against all the
assaults of the Devil. I see and knowledge that there is in myself no
help of salvation, but all my confidence, hope and trust is in thy most
merciful goodness. I have no merits nor good works which I may allege
before thee. Of sins and evil works (alas), I see a great heap; but
through thy mercy I trust to be in the number of them to whom thou wilt
not impute their sins; but take and accept me for righteous and just,
and to be an inheritor of everlasting life.
Thou merciful Lord, wert born for my sake. Thou didst suffer both
hunger and thirst for my sake. Thou didst preach and teach, thou didst
pray and fast for my sake. Thou didst all good works and deeds for my
sake. Thou sufferedst most grievous pains and torments for my sake. And
finally, Thou gavest thy most precious body to die, and thy blood to be
shed on the cross for my sake.
Now, most merciful Saviour, let all these things profit me which thou
freely hast given me, that hast given thyself for me. Let thy blood
cleanse and wash away the spots and foulness of my sins. Let Thy
righteousness hide and cover my unrighteousness. Let the merits of thy
passion and blood be the satisfaction for my sins.
Give me, Lord, thy grace, that my faith, and salvation in thy blood
waver not in me, but ever be firm and constant; that the hope of thy
mercy and life everlasting never decay in me; that charity wax not cold
in me.
Finally, that the weakness of my flesh be not overcome by the fear of
death. Grant me merciful Father, that when Death has shut up the eyes
of my body, yet that the eyes of my soul may still behold and look upon
thee; that when death hath taken away the use of my tongue and speech,
yet that my heart may cry and say unto Thee _In manus tuas, Domine,
commendo spiritum meum_; that is, O Lord, into thy hands I give and
commit my soul. _Domine Jesu accipe spiritum meum._ Lord Jesu, receive
my soul unto thee. Amen.[731]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 724: Cotton MS. Otho C. x., f. 230. Ellis, 2nd series, vol.
ii., p. 78.]
[Footnote 725: Pollini, _Istoria Ecclesiastica della rivoluzion
d’Inghilterra_, p. 355. Harl. MS. 424.]
[Footnote 726: Stow, _Annals_, p. 616.]
[Footnote 727: Cranmer’s _Register_, Lambeth MS. The original is in
Latin, written in Cranmer’s own hand. The form given in Strype’s
_Memorials of Archbishop Cranmer_ is mutilated, and could not have been
collated by Strype with Cranmer’s manuscript.]
[Footnote 728: MS., St. Mark’s Lib., Cod. xxiv., Cl. x., p. 208 _et
seq._; Rawdon Brown, _Ven. Cal._, vol. vi., pt. iii., App. 136;
original in Italian.]
[Footnote 729: _The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D._, vol. iii., p. 291
_et seq._]
[Footnote 730: _The History of the Reformation_, by William Cobbett, a
new edition, revised, with notes and preface by Francis Aidan Gasquet,
D.D., O.S.B., p. 207.]
[Footnote 731: E. MSS., D. Sampson, M.D.; printed in Strype’s
_Ecclesiastical Memorials_ vol. iii., pt. ii., p. 550.]
INDEX.
A.
_Acts and Monuments_—
value of the collection, 365 _et seq._
a powerful engine in the misrepresentation of Mary’s
character, 370.
the secret of its success, 371.
Acunha, Don Juan de, 461.
Agustini, Monsignor, auditor of the Rota, 344.
Alva, Fernando Alvarez de Toledo, Duke of, 313, 323, 346, 349,
444, 445.
Anderson, Judge, 369.
Angoulême, Duke of, third son of Francis I., 89.
Arundel, Henry, Earl of, Lord High Steward in Mary’s reign, 223, 225,
226, 228, 229, 234, 261, 271, 321, 330, 339, 403, 433, 497,
499.
Ascham, Roger, 374.
Ashley, Katharine, governess of the Princess Elizabeth’s household,
193, 416, 417, 421.
Aske, Robert, 142.
Askew, Anne, 384.
Assonleville, Christophe d’, 467.
Azevedo, Don Diego de, steward to Philip II., 404.
B.
Badoer, Venetian ambassador in Flanders, 404, 406, 412, 432.
Baker, Alys, a gentlewoman of the Princess Mary’s household, 6.
Bale, John, 474.
Barker, Dr., one of the Princess Mary’s chaplains, 203.
Barlings, Abbot of, hanged in chains, 143.
Bath, Earl of. See Bourchier.
Bavaria, Philip, Count Palatine, Duke of—
a suitor for the hand of the Princess Mary, 170.
his betrothal to her, 173.
a treaty for their marriage, drawn up but never signed, 185.
Baynton, Margery, 133.
Beauchamp, Viscount, 152.
Bedford, Earl of. See Russell.
Bedingfeld, Sir Henry, 218, 307, 312, 345, 348, 349.
Berkeley, Sir Maurice, 290.
Beza, Theodore, the reformer, 357.
Black Joan, Cranmer’s first wife, 380.
Bocher, Joan, otherwise Joan of Kent, 196, 358, 384.
Bohemia, Maximilian, Archduke of Austria, King of, 414.
Boleyn, Anne, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, afterwards Queen, 36,
38, 39, 40, 42, 43, 45, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 66, 67,
68, 69, 72, 77, 84, 85, 88, 98, 99, 101, 103, 104, 105, 106.
is created Marchioness of Pembroke, and accompanies the King to
France, 52.
is secretly married to Henry VIII., 53.
her coronation, 56.
gives birth to a daughter, 57.
her arrest and trial, 104.
her execution, 105.
—— George, Viscount Rochford, brother of the above, 59, 70, 72, 93.
—— Sir Thomas, created Earl of Wiltshire, father of the above, 36,
93, 381.
Bonivet, Sieur de, Admiral of France, ambassador to England, 9.
Bonner, Edmund, Bishop of London, 238, 326, 329, 333, 334, 357, 372,
373, 387, 389, 391 392.
his articles concerning religion, 329, 334.
accused of dilatoriness by the Council, 334.
receives a papal commission to degrade Cranmer, 387.
his character, 392.
Bourchier, John, Earl of Bath, 217, 218.
Bourne, Gilbert, Archdeacon of St. Paul’s, 238.
Bowes, Sir Robert, Master of the Rolls in the reign of
Edward VI., 223.
Bradford, John, Bishop Ridley’s chaplain, 375.
Branch, William, _alias_ Flower, an ex-monk of Ely, 355, 356.
Brandenburg, Albert, Marquis of, 187.
Brandon, Charles, Duke of Suffolk, 2, 65, 66, 68, 77, 142, 214.
Braye, Lord, 328.
Brett, Captain Alexander, 281, 282, 294.
Bridges or Brydges, Sir John, Lieutenant of the Tower, created Lord
Chandos in May 1554, 306, 311.
—— Charles, second son of John, first Lord Chandos, 455.
Brooke, George, Lord Cobham, 223, 280, 287, 295, 403.
—— Thomas, son of the above, 290, 291, 295.
Brookes, John, Bishop of Gloucester in the reign of Mary, 387.
Brown, Dr., Prior of the Austin Friars in London, 53 _note_.
—— Mary, maid to the Princess Mary, 133.
Browne, Sir Anthony, afterwards Viscount Montague, 203, 272,
321, 440.
Bryan, Sir Francis, 36.
—— Margaret, Lady, “Lady Maistress” of the Princess Mary’s
household, 6, 16, 495 App. B.
Bucer, Martin, 385.
Bullinger, Henry, 357, 372.
Bulmer, Lady, 143.
Burgartus, Vice-chancellor to the Duke of Saxony, 164.
Buttes, Dr., physician to Henry VIII., 78, 81, 87.
C.
Cabot, Sebastian, 488.
Calthorpe, Sir Philip, 17.
—— Lady, 17.
Calvin, John, the reformer, 212, 357, 358 _note_.
Campeggio, Cardinal, papal legate, 9, 40, 41.
Capua, Archbishop of, 29.
Caraffa, Cardinal, nephew of Pope Paul IV., 420.
Carew, Sir Gawin, 287.
—— Sir Peter, 15, 275, 278, 287, 414, 415, 421.
—— Mr., 328.
Carlos, Don, Prince of Spain, son of Philip II., 273.
Carne, Sir Edward, English ambassador to the Vatican, 438, 452,
456, 457.
Carter, William, armourer, 24.
Casale, Sir Gregory da, agent of Henry VIII. in Rome, 68.
Castro, Alfonso de, confessor of Philip II., 364, 404.
preaches at court against the persecution of heretics, 404.
Cecil, Sir William, 196, 208, 223, 228, 229, 338, 341 _note_.
Challoner, navigator, 488, 489.
Chamberlain, Sir Thomas, English ambassador in Flanders, in the reign
of Edward VI., 202.
Chandos, Lord. See Bridges.
Chapuys, Eustace, imperial ambassador at the court of Henry VIII.,
41, 42, 43, 44, 51, 53, 54, 55, 57, 59, 62, 66, 67, 68, 70, 72,
73, 75, 76, 77, 78, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 86, 88, 92, 97, 101,
102, 103, 107, 109, 116, 123, 126, 134, 136, 137, 145, 148,
159, 161, 168, 170, 179, 181, 182.
consults the Emperor as to the advisability of carrying away the
Princess Mary, 82, 83.
suggests that the Emperor should make war on Henry, 88.
visits Queen Katharine, and describes her illness and death, 92.
revives the scheme for Mary’s escape, 101.
seeks to allay Mary’s scruples on account of her abjuration, 126.
his eulogy of the Princess, 136.
his audience with Queen Jane, 137.
advocates Mary’s marriage with Don Loys of Portugal, 151.
again suggests that the Princess should leave England, 161.
his advice to the Emperor, 181.
Charles V., Emperor of Austria, etc., 8, 11, 12, 13, 14, 17, 18, 19,
20, 21, 22, 29, 70, 71, 82, 98, 109, 111, 131, 145, 152, 165,
181, 201, 211, 215, 231, 232,235, 236, 237, 251, 263, 267, 269,
271, 306, 320, 326, 328, 334, 335, 336, 357, 364, 403, 405,
407, 414.
his see-saw policy, 11.
his contemplated marriage with the Princess Mary, 11, 12, 17,
18, 19.
repudiates his pledges, by the extravagance of his demands, 20, 21.
his marriage to Isabella of Portugal, 22.
his letter to the Empress announcing Queen Katharine’s death, 98.
offers to be “a mean” to reconcile Henry to the Pope, 109.
his reply to Henry’s answer, 111.
his political selfishness overrides his humanity, 131.
puts forward Don Loys as a suitor for Mary, 145.
his satisfaction at the birth of Prince Edward, 152.
report that he is to marry the Princess Mary, 165.
is apprehensive for Mary’s safety, 181.
receives the English envoys, 201.
revives the plan for abducting Mary, 211.
sends three envoys to England on the death of Edward VI., 215.
urges Mary to have Lady Jane Grey executed, 231.
insists on her signing Northumberland’s death-warrant, 232.
advises caution in the restoration of religion in England, 235.
instructs Renard to treat with the Queen of her marriage, 251.
his opinion of the English, 263.
detains Cardinal Pole in Belgium, 267.
presses for the execution of Elizabeth, 306.
makes over to Philip, the Kingdom of Naples and the Duchy of
Milan, 326.
is satisfied with the success of his policy, 325, 328, 336.
insists that the peace-breakers should be punished as traitors,
337, 364.
welcomes Philip to Brussels, 403.
desires his son’s coronation as King Consort, 405 _note_.
abdicates in favour of Philip, 407.
reassures the Queen with delusive hopes, 414.
Charlotte, Princess, of France, 11.
Chartres, the Vidame de, 297.
Chedsey, Dr., Prebendary of St. Paul’s, 386.
Cheke or Cheeke, Dr., tutor to Edward VI., 223, 414, 415, 421.
Cheney, Mr., one of the King’s archers, 176.
Chester, Bishop of, 124.
Cheyne, or Cheney, Sir Thomas, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, 225,
226, 440.
Chichester, Bishop of. See Day, George.
Christopherson, Dr. John, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge,
288, 490.
Cifuentes, Count de, Imperial ambassador in Rome, 71, 146, 148.
Clarencyeus, Susan, 133, 265, 348, 350.
Clayton, Laurence, gunner, 24.
Clement VII., Pope, 40, 44, 57.
Cleves, Anne of, fourth wife of Henry VIII., 164, 165, 170, 173, 175,
178, 180, 181, 245, 256, 257.
her arrival in England, 173.
her marriage annulled, 178.
her extraordinary reappearance at Court, 180, 181.
—— William, duke of, 49 _note_, 164, 178.
Clifford, Henry, secretary to the Duchess of Feria, and author of her
_Life_, 423, 464, 468.
—— Lady Margaret, 326 _note_.
Clinton, Edward Fiennes de, ninth Lord Clinton and Saye, twice Lord
High Admiral, 288, 411, 412, 414, 460, 461.
Cobham, Lord. See Brooke, George.
Constable, Sir Robert, 143.
Contarini, Francesco, 17, 18.
—— Gasparo, Cardinal, 165.
Convocation, both houses of, wait on Cardinal Pole and crave
absolution “from all perjuries, schism and heresies,” 342.
Cooper, John, 368.
Cornwallis, Sir Thomas, 297.
Cotman, William, 282.
Cotton, Sir Richard, Comptroller of the Household to Edward VI., 223.
Council, Fourth Lateran, 362.
Courtenay, Henry, Marquis of Exeter and Earl of Devon, 125, 167, 168.
—— Edward, Earl of Devon, son of the above, 168, 218, 231, 252, 253,
270, 272, 275, 276, 278, 289, 296, 299, 301, 307, 308, 310,
311, 312, 349, 350, 412.
a prisoner in the tower, 168.
released by Mary on her accession, 231.
the standard of revolt to be raised in his name, 275.
his conduct during Wyatt’s rebellion, 289.
proceedings against him, 296.
suspected of communicating with Elizabeth, 307.
sent to Fotheringhay, 312.
is advised to travel for his improvement, 349.
Cranach, Lucas, court painter to the Duke of Cleves, 165.
Cranmer, Edmund, Archdeacon of Canterbury, 244.
—— Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury, 52, 53, 57, 74, 104, 107, 141,
177, 194, 195, 200, 223, 237, 240, 241, 243, 244, 260, 267,
268, 358, 375, 380-89.
his consecration, 53.
his oath of fidelity to the Pope, 502 App. E.
gives sentence of divorce against Katharine of Arragon, 54.
his excommunication, 57.
annuls the King’s marriage with Anne Boleyn, 104.
his advice to Henry after Anne’s death, 107.
joins the Protestant party, 195.
promotes union between the Church of England, and the reformed
churches of the Continent, and revises the Prayer-book at the
instigation of the foreign reformers, 385.
makes himself guilty of high-treason by signing Edward’s will, 386.
subscribes the letter of the Councillors calling upon Mary to
acknowledge Queen Jane, 223.
is active against the restoration of the old religion, 241.
is committed to the Tower, 244.
is attainted for high-treason, 260, 267.
his view of heresy and his treatment of heretics, 358, 384.
is sent to Oxford with Latimer and Ridley to hold a
disputation, 375.
sketch of his career, 380-89.
his recantations and his burning at Oxford, 388, 389.
Croft, Sir James, 275, 277, 278, 297, 305, 306.
Crofts, Elizabeth, an impostor, 356.
Cromwell, Thomas, created Earl of Essex in 1539, Chief Secretary of
State, Chancellor of the Exchequer and Lord Privy Seal in the
reign of Henry VIII., 41, 50, 67, 73, 77, 81, 85, 87, 113, 118,
122, 126, 128, 132, 134, 137, 141, 143, 152, 156, 158, 159,
160, 162, 168, 169, 174, 175, 177, 178.
succeeds Cardinal Wolsey as Chancellor, 41.
sends drafts of letters for Mary to copy, 113.
his letter to her, 122.
his fear of the King, 128.
is regarded as the evil genius of the throne, 141.
his dealings with the northern insurgents, 143.
is considered a possible husband for Mary, 152.
his connection with the Lutherans, 156.
his _Remembrances_, 162, 168.
his character, 169.
brings about a marriage between the King and Anne of Cleves, and
failing to find “a remedy” is disgraced, 174.
his appeals to Henry; his trial and execution, 177.
Cumberland, Earl of, 142.
D.
Dacre, Lord, of the North, 143, 144.
Darcy, George, Lord, 223.
Dauncy, Sir John, 24.
Dauphin, the, eldest son of Francis I. See Henry II.
Day, George, Bishop of Chichester, 195, 326.
Deighton, John, 369.
Derby, Earl of, 325, 326.
Devon, the Countess of, 25, 252.
Dingley, Sir Thomas, 167.
Dormer, Jane, afterwards Duchess of Feria, 156, 353, 460, 464,
465, 468.
Drury, Sir William, 218.
Dudley, Lord, Governor of Hammes, 435.
—— Lord Ambrose, 260, 267.
—— Lord Guildford, 213, 260, 267, 293, 294, 497, 499.
—— Lord Henry, 220, 267.
—— John, Earl of Warwick, Viscount Lisle, Lord Great Master, Lord
President of the Council, afterwards Duke of Northumberland.
See Northumberland, Duke of.
—— Sir Henry, conspirator, 407, 409, 410, 411, 441, 453.
Dupuy, Cardinal, 387.
Durham, Bishop of. See Tunstal, Cuthbert.
E.
Easterlings, 489.
Eboli, Prince of. See Ruy Gomez.
Edward, Prince, son of Henry VIII., afterwards King, 152, 160, 188,
193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 211, 214, 215, 216, 217.
his birth, 152.
his coronation, 195.
his Journal, 196, 199, 211.
he summons Mary to embrace the new form of worship, 197.
his death, 214, 216.
Egmont, Count, 272, 301, 307, 313, 320, 323, 453.
Eleanor, Dowager-Duchess of Austria, 27.
Elizabeth, Princess, daughter of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, 57, 65,
74, 76, 93, 104, 142, 171, 183, 192, 193, 230, 236, 237, 244,
245, 246, 256, 257, 268, 271, 275, 276, 278, 296, 297, 301,
303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 310, 311, 312, 329, 345, 346, 347,
348, 349, 354, 357, 396, 402, 403, 407, 415, 416, 418, 435,
442 _note_, 461, 462, 463, 464, 466, 467, 468, 498.
her birth, 57.
is provided with an establishment at Hatfield, 65.
receives public honours on the death of Queen Katharine, 93.
is declared illegitimate by Cranmer, 104.
and by Act of Parliament, 142.
her letter to Mary, 192.
her public entrance into London with Queen Mary, 230.
refuses to be present at Mass, 237.
is the rallying point of the disaffected, 245, 275.
her supposed conversion, 246.
is present at the Queen’s coronation, 256, 257.
proceedings against her, 296.
is accused by Sir Thomas Wyatt, 297.
her journey from Ashridge to Westminster, 297.
charged with complicity with the rebels, she denies
everything, 303.
is sent to the Tower, 304.
is entrusted to the care of Sir Henry Bedingfeld, 307.
the Emperor and Renard demand her execution, 310.
is sent to Woodstock, 312.
a marriage proposed for her with the Duke of Savoy, 345.
is summoned to Hampton Court, 346.
her interview with the Queen, 348.
is the centre of a fresh plot, 407.
her household, 416.
her letter to the Queen, 418.
receives a visit from the Count de Feria, 461.
declares herself a Catholic, 464.
Ely, Bishop of. See Goodrich, Thomas, and Thirlby, Thomas.
Emmanuel Philibert, Prince of Piedmont and Duke of Savoy, 345, 449,
450, 452, 463.
England, its character at the time of Mary’s birth, 1.
is raised by Wolsey’s policy to greater power and importance, 11.
its sanitary condition during the first half of the sixteenth
century, 16.
Sorranzo’s report on, 249.
the religious state of, at the time of Mary’s accession, 337, 340.
Englefield, Sir Francis. See Inglefield.
Erasmus of Rotterdam, 5, 16, 183, 355, 380.
Essex, Henry Bourchier, Earl of (died in 1539), 58, 59, 126.
Exeter, Gertrude, Marchioness of, 30, 90, 91, 167.
—— Marquis of, 125.
F.
Faitta, Marc Antonio, secretary to Cardinal Pole, 224.
Falier, Ludovico, 47.
Farel, the reformer, 357.
Featherstone, John or Richard, schoolmaster to the Princess Mary, 23,
26, 75.
—— a boy made to personate Edward VI., 354.
Ferdinand of Arragon, 5, 12, 438.
Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria, 254, 255.
Feria, Gomez, Suarez de Figuera, Count, then Duke, of, 313, 437, 459,
460, 461, 463, 464, 466, 467.
Fermes, Marshal de, 454.
Ferrar, Robert, Bishop of St. David’s, 367.
Ferrara, Duke of, 187.
Figueroa, Don Juan, Regent of Naples, 326.
Fisher, John, Bishop of Rochester, 38 _note_, 50, 75, 90.
Fitzwilliam, William, afterwards Earl of Southampton, Lord High
Admiral, Lord Treasurer, 125.
Forest, Friar John, 364, 383.
Fortescue, Sir Adrian, 167.
Fountains, Abbot of, hanged in chains, 143.
Fox, Dr., almoner to Henry VIII., afterwards Bishop of Hereford, 65,
98, 381.
Foxe, John, martyrologist, 365-70, 372, 389, 391, 392, 474.
Francis I., King of France, 3, 4, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 17, 27, 28,
32, 33, 34, 52, 70, 71, 89, 155.
his personal appearance compared with that of Henry VIII., 4.
betrothes the Dauphin to the Princess Mary, and is to be Regent of
England if Henry predeceases him, 10.
enmity between him and Charles V., 11.
entertains Henry at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, 13.
his defeat at Pavia, 27.
proposes to marry the Princess Mary, 33.
but is obliged, by the Treaty of Madrid, to take the Emperor’s
sister, 34.
exchanges orders with Henry VIII., 34.
meets Henry at Boulogne, and presents Anne Boleyn with a jewel, 52.
is eager for a marriage between Mary and the Duke of Orleans, 155.
Frith, John, 375.
G.
Gage, Sir John, Constable of the Tower and Lord Chamberlain, 234,
289, 305, 306.
—— Robert, 442 _note_.
Gardiner, Stephen, Bishop of Winchester, Lord Chancellor, 151, 153,
195, 218, 231, 234, 249, 250, 251, 256, 261, 262, 263 _note_,
269, 273, 274, 276, 283, 286, 287, 288, 294, 303, 307, 326,
330, 333, 334, 336, 338, 339, 340, 341, 347, 372, 374, 377,
378, 379, 382, 400, 402, 431, 487.
is deprived and sent to the Tower, 195.
in danger of execution by the Council, 218.
is released by Mary on her accession, and made Chancellor, 231.
his integrity and ability, 249.
is obnoxious to de Noailles, 250.
crowns the Queen at Westminster, 256.
is anxious for her to marry an Englishman, 261.
his affection for Courtenay, 263 _note_.
opposes the Spanish match until further resistance is vain, 269.
settles with Renard the terms of the Queen’s marriage treaty, 273.
solemnises the royal marriage at Winchester, 326.
incident of the “Nine Worthies,” 330.
his attitude towards the disturbers of public order, 333.
appeals to the Pope for a bull, confirming lay proprietors of
ecclesiastical goods in their possession, 338.
addresses both Houses of Parliament on the subject of their return
to the Catholic Church, 339.
preaches at St. Paul’s, 341.
visits Elizabeth at Hampton Court, 347.
sits on a commission of inquiry into the teaching of four
Churchmen, 372.
Foxe’s account of his death, 378.
the true account of it, 382.
his last speech in Parliament, 400.
Gates, Sir John, 223, 231, 449, App. C.
Gibbs, William, 287.
Gifford, Sir George, 343.
Giustinian, Marin, a Venetian traveller, 47.
—— Sebastian, Venetian ambassador to Henry VIII., 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10.
his description of Mary’s betrothal to the Dauphin, 9.
Gloucester, Bishop of. See Brookes, John, and Hooper, John.
Gonzaga, Prince of, 320.
Gonzolles, Monsieur de, French ambassador to Scotland, 20.
Goodrich, Thomas, Bishop of Ely and Lord Chancellor in the reign of
Edward VI., 196, 223.
Grammont, Cardinal, Bishop of Tarbes, 29, 33, 38.
Granvelle, Antoine Perrenot Cardinal de, Bishop of Arras, 81, 134,
135, 137, 185, 254, 256, 329.
sends the chrism for anointing Queen Mary at her coronation, with
apologies for the box, 256.
Gresham, Sir Thomas, 320.
Grey, Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, 219, 232, 279, 497, 498 App. C.
—— Henry, Duke of Suffolk, 214, 223, 226, 227, 275, 278, 279, 280,
287, 293, 302.
signs the letter of the Privy Councillors calling upon Mary to
acknowledge Queen Jane, 223.
proclaims Queen Mary, 226
stirs up rebellion in the Midlands, 279.
is beheaded on Tower Hill, 302.
—— Lady Jane, granddaughter of Mary, sister of Henry VIII. and
daughter of Henry, Duke of Suffolk, 213, 219, 227, 228, 232,
260, 267, 293, 294.
is proclaimed queen, 219.
her letter to Mary from the Tower, 496 App. C.
is attainted for high treason, 260, 267.
is the victim of her father’s persistent disloyalty, 293.
her execution, 294.
—— Lord John, son of Henry, Duke of Suffolk, 279.
—— Lady Katharine, 25.
—— Lord Leonard, son of Henry, Duke of Suffolk, 279.
—— Lord, de Wilton, Governor of Guisnes, 440, 447, 450, 454, 455.
Grimwood, “a notorious Papist,” 367, 368.
Grindal, Edmund, 266.
Guise, Duke of, 445, 449, 450, 451.
H.
Harper, Sir George, 280, 281, 287.
Harpsfield, John, 387.
—— Nicolas (Alan Cope), 366.
Hastings, Sir Edward, afterwards Lord Hastings of Loughborough,
Master of the Horse, 225, 297, 338, 417.
Hawkins, Nicholas, 53 _note_.
Heath, Nicholas, Bishop of Worcester, afterwards Archbishop of York,
afterwards Lord Chancellor, in succession to Stephen Gardiner,
195, 243, 257, 406 _note_.
Heer, Lucas van, painter—
his portraits of Queen Mary, 186.
Henry II., King of France, eldest son of Francis I., 9, 15, 33, 34,
89, 215, 235, 262, 275, 297, 409, 410, 411, 412, 414, 420, 437,
438, 439, 441, 443, 444, 445, 451, 454.
is betrothed as Dauphin to the Princess Mary, 9.
his hereditary enmity with the emperor, 215.
instructs his ambassador to remonstrate with Queen Mary on her
alliance with Charles V., 275.
causes De Noailles to incense the English people against the
Spanish marriage, 275.
subsidises Mary’s enemies, 297.
his part in Dudley’s conspiracy, 410.
refuses to give up the conspirators, 411.
his answer to the Venetian ambassador, 412, 414.
sends assurances of his friendship to Mary, 414.
his renewed encouragement of the English rebels, 441.
loses the battle of St. Quentin, 444.
recalls the Duke of Guise from Italy, 445.
wins back Calais from the English, 451.
probably from “some treason” from within, 452.
his interview with Philip II., 454.
Henry VII., King of England, 1.
Henry VIII., King of England, 1, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 15, 20, 23,
28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36, 37, 39, 42 _note_, 43, 47, 49,
52, 55, 56, 58, 62, 63, 66, 67, 68, 75, 76, 80, 82, 85, 86, 88,
93, 96, 98, 101, 103, 105, 109, 113, 121, 134, 135, 141, 145,
150, 151, 153, 154, 158, 162, 165, 166, 172, 173, 174, 175,
178, 179, 181, 182, 186, 189, 190, 194.
description of, by Giustinian, 3.
his jealousy of Francis I., 4.
his treaty with him, 8, 9, 10.
transfers Mary’s hand to the Emperor, 11, 20.
is entertained by Francis at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, 13.
creates Mary Princess of Wales, 23.
negotiates a marriage between her and Francis I., 28.
entertains the French envoys with a pageant, 30, 31.
his “secret matter,” 32.
sends the Garter to Francis I. and receives the Order of St.
Michael in exchange, 34.
his passion for Anne Boleyn, and the first proceedings in order to
a divorce from the Queen, 36, 37.
his letters to Anne Boleyn, 42 _note_.
parts finally from Queen Katharine, 43.
meets Francis I. at Boulogne, 52.
his marriage with Anne Boleyn, 53.
his breach with the Pope, 57.
commands Katharine to give up her title, and sends commissioners to
Mary with the same instructions, 56, 58.
articles to be proposed to the “Lady Mary,” 58.
deprives her of her household, and sends her to serve
Elizabeth, 63.
tells the French ambassador that Katharine cannot live long, 68.
relents towards Mary in her illness, and sends her his
physician, 78.
is interested in a new favourite, 85.
rejoices in the news of Katharine’s death, 93.
desires friendship with Charles V., and considers Mary the only
obstacle to it, 96.
declares that he was led to marry Anne by witchcraft, 101.
is enamoured of Jane Seymour, 98, 103.
his reply, through Chapuys, to the Emperor’s advances, 109.
his brutality towards Mary, 113, 121.
restores her to favour, 134.
his unpopularity and the terror he inspires, 88, 141.
sends Mary the draft of a letter to be written to the Emperor, 145.
sends for her to court, 150.
refuses to legitimatise her, but gives hope that she will succeed
if he has no other issue, 151.
his indifference on the death of Queen Jane, 154.
is anxious to detach Mary from the Emperor, 158.
his reaction in favour of Catholicism, 166, 194.
his marriage to Anne of Cleves, 173.
his disgusted with his new wife and causes Cromwell to be arrested
as responsible for his marriage, 174, 175.
his union with Anne of Cleves declared null, 178.
marries Katharine Howard, 179.
but on reports of her misconduct, has her tried and executed, 181
his marriage to Katharine Parr, 182.
his death, 186, 190.
his opinion of his brothers-in-law, 189.
Herbert, Lord, of Cherbury, 2, 5.
—— William, first Earl of Pembroke. See Pembroke.
Heresy as understood and punished by Protestants, 357 _et seq._
as understood and punished by Catholics, 360 _et seq._
Heywood, John, 479 _note_, 501 App. D.
Highfield, John, 452.
Hoby, Master, 306.
Holbein, Hans, his portraits of the Princess Mary, 186, 187.
Holstein, Duke of, 186.
Hooper, John, Bishop of Gloucester, 196, 372, 373, 374.
Hopton, Dr., one of the Princess Mary’s chaplains, 203.
Horn, Count, 313.
Howard, Katharine, daughter of Lord Edmund Howard, a younger son of
Thomas, second Duke of Norfolk, fifth wife of Henry VIII.,
179, 181.
—— Thomas, third Duke of Norfolk. See Norfolk.
—— Lord Thomas, second son of the third Duke of Norfolk, 415, 416.
—— Lord William, first Lord Howard of Effingham, Lord High Admiral,
and afterwards Lord Chamberlain, 286, 290, 291, 297, 298, 313,
347, 443, 485.
Huddleston, Mr., of Sawston, 217.
Hungary, Queen Maria of, 179, 182, 263, 311, 345, 413.
sends Queen Mary the portrait of Philip II. by Titian, 263.
Huntingdon, Earl of, 223, 280, 281, 287, 497.
Hussey, Lord, 58, 143.
I.
Inglefield, or Englefield, Sir Francis. A member of the Princess
Mary’s household, afterwards of the Queen’s Privy Council, 203,
206, 211, 234, 417.
Inquisition, the Spanish, 255, 261, 300, 329.
Isley, Sir Henry, 280, 282, 287.
J.
Jerningham, Sir Henry, 218, 224, 234, 281, 282.
Jervaulx, Abbot of, hanged in chains, 143.
Julius III., Pope, 266, 338, 344.
appoints Cardinal Pole legate _a latere et pro pace_, 266.
signs a bull granting the retention of Church property by lay
holders in England, 338.
sends the Golden Rose to Queen Mary, and the Sword and Cap of
maintenance to Philip II., 344.
Jurieu, the reformer, 357.
K.
Katharine of Arragon, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile
and Arragon, first wife of Henry VIII., and mother of Queen
Mary, 1, 5, 6, 12, 13, 18, 21, 25, 36, 37, 38, 39, 41, 43, 44,
47, 51, 54, 56, 60, 66, 68, 76, 79, 81, 90, 91, 92, 93,
94, 153.
her character and accomplishments, 5.
receives the Emperor on his first visit to England, at
Canterbury, 13.
and on his second visit, at Greenwich, 18.
her letter to Mary, on the departure of the Princess for Wales, 25.
her divorce first mooted, 36.
her uncompromising attitude, 38.
her letter to Ludovicus Vives, 39.
is finally abandoned by the King, 43.
is no longer to be styled “Queen,” 47.
her gift to the King refused, 51.
is declared “contumacious,” and divorced by Cranmer, 54.
her refusal to accept the title of “Princess-Dowager,” 56.
her letter to Mary, 60.
refuses to leave Buckden, 66.
her fear of poison, 68.
is in anxiety about her daughter, 76.
is in danger of the scaffold, 90, 91.
is visited by Chapuys, 92.
her death, 92, 93.
her funeral, 94.
—— the Lady, sister of the Prince of Castile afterwards Charles V., 2.
Kingston, Sir Anthony, 410, 420.
—— Lady, 106, 112, 162.
Knevett, William, 280, 290, 291.
Knox, John, the reformer, 354, 358, 359, 474.
L.
Lalain, Count, 272.
Lambert, John, 384.
Latimer, Hugh, Bishop of Worcester, 141, 194, 196, 244, 268, 364,
375, 376, 377, 378.
his sermon at Admiral Seymour’s funeral, 194.
is committed a close prisoner to the Tower, 244.
his sermon at Friar Forest’s burning, 364.
is sent to Oxford to take part in a disputation, 375.
approves the burning of heretics, 376.
his own burning at Oxford, 377, 378.
Lautrec, commander of the French troops in Italy, 33.
La Viste, 29.
Lee, Rowland, chaplain to Henry VIII., afterwards successively Bishop
of Chester, Coventry and Lichfield, and President of Wales,
53 _note_.
Lisle, Viscount. See Northumberland, Duke of.
Llandaff, Bishop of, 92.
Lollardy, 194, 362, 374.
Londoners, the, 1, 236, 238, 240, 244, 255, 264, 282, 300, 308, 329,
330, 333, 334, 351, 354, 396.
are Protestant to the backbone, 238, 330.
their anger at the restoration of the Mass, 240.
their affection for Elizabeth, 244.
their delight in pageants, 255.
their turbulence, 264.
their secret pleasure at the defeat of the Queen’s guards, 282.
view with alarm the prospect of a withdrawal of the seat of
government, 300.
their attitude towards the Spaniards, 329.
attack religious ceremonies, 333.
clamour for the return of Cardinal Pole, 334.
their renewal of disturbances on Elizabeth’s release from
captivity, 351.
circulate seditious pamphlets, 354.
feed the Queen with insults, 396.
Longland, Bishop of Lincoln, 54.
Louise, Duchess of Savoy, 28, 49 _note_.
Loys, Don of Portugal, 144, 145, 151, 155, 187.
Luther, Martin, 94, 357.
M.
Madeleine, Madame, daughter of Francis I., 34.
Malin, Admiral, 453.
Mallet, Dr., one of Mary’s Chaplains, 203, 514 App. H.
Manrique, Don Juan, 414.
Marbeck, John, 367.
Margaret Tudor, Queen of Scotland, elder sister of Henry VIII.,
49, 214.
Marillac, Monsieur de, French Ambassador to Henry VIII., 155 _note_,
156, 165, 170, 173, 174, 175, 180, 182.
his description of the Princess Mary, 156.
his letter to Francis I. on the fall of Cromwell, 175.
Martyr, Peter, the reformer, 242, 244, 374, 385.
is furnished by Gardiner with funds to escape out of England, 374.
Mary Tudor, younger sister of Henry VIII., Queen Dowager of France,
afterwards Duchess of Suffolk, 6, 8, 9, 214.
Mary, the Princess, afterwards Queen of England—
her birth, baptism and early years, 1-6, 7-15.
is formally betrothed to the Dauphin, 9.
steps taken for transferring her hand to the Emperor, 11.
treaty of marriage with the Emperor, 17.
sees Charles V. at Greenwich, and is brought to Windsor to take
leave of him, 18, 19.
sends him an emerald with a message, 20.
replies in Latin to his envoys, 21.
is declared Princess of Wales and sent to that principality, 23.
her Council and the “persons of gravity” in her suite, 24, 25.
her education and proficiency in Latin, 26, 27.
receives the French envoys, 29.
and appears in a pageant for their entertainment, 30.
is betrothed to the Duke of Orleans, 34.
her character, 35.
is no longer to be styled Princess, 47.
contributions to her wardrobe, 48 _note_.
projects for her marriage, 49.
her title to be undecided, until after the birth of Anne’s
child, 55.
is deprived of her title and degraded, 57.
her letter of protest to the King, 59.
the love of the English people for her, 60, 108, 135.
is removed to Hatfield, 65.
is in danger of being poisoned, 68.
does nothing but by the advice of Chapuys, 77.
her illness, 78, 79.
her proposed escape to Flanders, 82, 84.
refuses to meet Anne’s advances, 85.
the extreme danger in which she is placed, 88.
her death plotted, 90, 91.
Chapuys advises her to acknowledge Anne as queen, 97.
refuses to subscribe to the new statute, 122.
her letters to Cromwell, 112, 113, 116, 118, 119, 132, 139, 140,
157, 158, 163, 172, 179.
to the King, 59, 114, 117, 120, 128, 130, 139.
her abjuration, 113, 126.
is restored to Henry’s favour, 134.
takes Elizabeth under her protection, 139.
her further protests against the declarations wrung from her,
146, 147.
goes to court at Jane Seymour’s request, 150.
is godmother to Prince Edward, 152.
and chief mourner at Queen Jane’s funeral, 154.
her beauty, 155.
her irreproachable conduct, 157.
the negotiation for her marriage to the Duke of Cleves, 164.
it is thought that she will be married to the Emperor, 165.
or to Reginald Pole, 167.
her preference for a single life, 171.
her betrothal to Duke Philip of Bavaria, 173.
returns to court, 181.
her appearance in 1544, 186.
and in 1547, 187.
her letter to Admiral Seymour, 191.
her letter to Edward’s Council, 197.
her letters to King Edward, 198, 204.
her appeal to the Emperor, 198.
must no longer use the Mass, 202.
her servants summoned before the Privy Council and given “a strait
charge,” 203-205.
receives a deputation from the Council, 207.
her reply to them, 210.
is informed of Edward’s death and rides into Suffolk, 217.
gathers round her the flower of the nobility, and announces her
accession, 218.
her letter to Edward’s Council, 220.
is proclaimed all over the country, 225.
her entrance into London, 230.
releases the prisoners in the Tower, 231.
her unprecedented clemency, 232.
her difficulties in forming a Government, 234.
issues a proclamation concerning religion, 239.
her gifts to Elizabeth, 247, 268.
her justice and honesty, 249.
her marriage resolved upon for state reasons, 251.
her kindness to Courtenay, 253, 486.
her proposed marriage to Philip of Spain, 254.
will no longer style herself Supreme Head of the Church of
England, 256.
her coronation, 256, 499 App. D.
opens her first Parliament, 257.
receives a deputation from the Commons concerning her
marriage, 262.
resolves to marry Philip of Spain, 263, 265.
and proposes to marry Elizabeth to Courtenay, 271.
her letter to Elizabeth, 277.
her bearing during Wyatt’s rebellion, 282, 283, 284, 287, 288.
her speech at the Guildhall, 284.
her clemency, 292.
yields to the Emperor’s demands for the execution of Lady Jane Grey
and her husband, 293.
reproaches de Noailles for his share in the rebellion, 302.
will not have Elizabeth convicted on insufficient evidence, 306.
her solemn betrothal to Philip, 307.
her constitutional mode of government, 310, 486, 487.
description of her person and character by Sorranzo, 318 _et seq._
her marriage, 324-327.
her public entry into London with her husband, 329.
is easy of access to the humblest individual, 332.
is present in Parliament at the reconciliation of the kingdom, 339.
goes to Hampton Court to await her confinement, 346.
sends for Elizabeth, 348.
her disappointment and grief, 351.
the loss of her popularity, 352, 354.
her desire for peace, 352 _note_.
her kindness to the poor and afflicted, 353, 423.
issues a proclamation concerning heretical books, 355.
her written opinion concerning the restoration of Church property,
the visitation of churches, the punishment of heretics, the
plurality of benefices, etc., 363, 503 App. F.
not keen to punish the peace-disturbers as heretics, 364.
her letter in Council to Bonner concerning them, 390.
her grief at the departure of the King, 398.
opens her fourth Parliament, 400.
her irreparable loss in Stephen Gardiner, 402.
cannot induce the Council to give Philip the Crown
matrimonial, 405.
on the discovery of a fresh plot, her courage fails for the first
time, 410.
performs the ceremony of the feet-washing on Holy
Thursday, 424-425.
blesses cramp-rings and touches the scrofulous, 426.
Faitta’s tribute to her goodness, 427.
her plans for the re-establishment of religious houses, 428.
her poverty, and refusal to make use of Church property, 430.
restores the Church lands vested in the Crown, 431.
raises money for Philip’s wars by means of privy seals, 432.
writes to the Pope, 432, 438.
receives Elizabeth graciously, 435.
is rejoiced by her husband’s return, 436.
sells Crown property to help Philip in his wars, 441 _note_.
takes a final leave of him, 443.
her grief at the loss of Calais, 446.
and her resolve to recover the place, 451, 453.
finds herself involved in a contest with the Pope, 455-458.
believes herself to be again _enceinte_, 459.
her decline, 460-465.
sends commissioners to Elizabeth, to examine her as to her
intention concerning religion, 464.
a contemporary’s description of her death, 468.
her funeral, 470-472.
her panegyric by the Bishop of Winchester, 472.
her will, 507 App. H.
summary of her character, 476-479.
the purity of her court, 485.
her encouragement of commerce and navigation, 488, 489.
her benefits to her army, 490.
her connection with the Universities; her motto, 491.
Masone, Sir John, English ambassador to Charles V., 211, 223, 226,
234, 349, 467.
Mass, unauthorised said in London, 238, 240.
the Princess Mary forbidden to have it said in her house, 198,
200-203, 208-210.
of the Holy Ghost sung at the opening of Parliament, 257, 400.
sung at the presentation of the Golden Rose, 344.
Maximilian, son of Ferdinand of Austria, 255.
Medina Cœli, Duke of, 313.
Melancthon, Philip, 165, 357.
Memo, the Rev. Dionysius, choir-master to Henry VIII., 7, 8.
Mendoza, Hurtado de, special envoy from Charles V. to Henry VIII.,
151, 158, 162.
Metcalfe, Father, 514 App.H.
Michiel, Giovanni, Venetian ambassador to Queen Mary, 377,
379 _note_, 394, 396, 398, 400, 404, 407, 408, 414, 415, 416,
417, 420, 421, 422, 423, 428, 429, 430, 434, 435, 436, 448,
449, 479.
communicates Dudley’s plot to his government, 408.
his report on England, 448.
his description of Queen Mary, 479.
Milan, Duchess of, 165.
Mont, or Mount Christopher, a German agent in the service of Henry
VIII., 164.
Montague, Viscount. See Pole, Henry.
—— —— See Browne, Anthony.
Monte, Innocenzio Cardinal del, afterwards Pope Julius III.,
236, 253.
Montmorency, Anne due de, 170.
—— Jean de, Sieur de Corrières, 215, 272.
Mordaunt, Lord, 218.
More, Sir Antonio, painter, his portraits of Queen Mary, 186, 491.
—— Sir Thomas, Lord Chancellor, 50, 75, 98, 362, 369.
Morgan, Henry, Bishop of St. David’s, 367.
—— Serjeant, afterwards Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, 202, 486.
Morice, Ralph, Cranmer’s secretary, 385.
Morley, Lord, 27, 152.
Mornix, Jacques de, Sieur de Toulouse, 215.
Morone, Cardinal, 456.
Morysine, Sir Richard, 200, 201.
Mountjoy, Lord, Queen Katharine’s Chamberlain, 56.
Müller, Caspar, 94.
Munday, Master, 378.
N.
Navagero, Bernardo, Venetian ambassador in Rome, 438.
Naves, Marquis de las, 312, 515.
Neville, Mrs. Frances, 485.
Nigry, Sieur de, Chancellor of the Order of the Golden Fleece, 272.
Noailles, Antoine de, French ambassador to Queen Mary, 215, 230, 244,
245, 246, 250, 252, 253, 255, 257, 260, 261, 266, 268, 269,
274, 275, 296, 302, 316, 322, 331, 343, 345, 351, 402, 406,
410, 415, 431.
begins to stir the coals of rebellion, 244.
his intrigues with Courtenay, 253.
incenses the English against the Queen’s marriage, 255.
asks for his brother as coadjutor, 260.
his interview with Gardiner, 261.
his practices with Elizabeth discovered, 268, 296.
effect of his treachery, 269, 274, 275.
his part in Wyatt’s rebellion, 296.
congratulates the Queen on her victory, 302.
is coldly received by Mary, 316.
absents himself from the royal marriage ceremonies, 327, 331.
still at his work of sowing discord, 343, 351.
communicates with Elizabeth at Woodstock, 345.
appreciates the effect of Gardiner’s death on French affairs, 402.
his estimation of Cardinal Pole, 406.
receives instructions from Henry II. concerning the English
conspirators and Elizabeth, 410.
takes leave of the Queen, 415.
—— François de, Protonotary, and Bishop of Acqs, brother of the
above, 443.
—— Gilles de, ambassador in England after the departure of his
brother, Antoine, 416.
Norfolk, Thomas Howard, third Duke of, 14, 43, 63, 64, 70, 77, 101,
124, 142, 143, 154, 175, 176, 218, 231, 234, 261, 271, 281,
282.
—— Duchess of, 2, 14.
North, Lord, 223.
Northampton, William Parr, Marquis of, 223, 228, 291, 295, 497 App.
Northumberland, John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, Viscount Lisle, Duke
of, Lord Great Master and Lord President of the Council
(created Duke in 1551), 154, 167, 189, 194, 211, 214, 215, 218,
219, 220, 223, 224, 228, 229, 231, 232.
resigns his patent of Lord High Admiral to Sir Thomas Seymour, 189.
accuses the Duke of Somerset, 194.
marries his son to the Lady Jane Grey, 214.
and persuades Edward VI. to exclude both his sisters from the
succession, 214.
advances with an army against Mary, 218.
sends his son, Lord Henry Dudley, into France, 220.
proclaims Queen Mary at Cambridge, 228.
is arrested and sent to the Tower, 229.
his execution, 232.
—— Duchess of, 497 App.
—— Thomas Percy, Earl of, 68, 143.
is hanged in chains, 143.
O.
Orio, Lorenzo, 23.
Orleans, Duke of, 34, 89, 144, 152, 155.
Ormanetto, Niccolò, Chancellor and Secretary to Cardinal Pole, 458.
Ormond, Earl of, 281, 282.
Oxford, Earl of, 58, 59.
—— Lady, 17.
Oysel, Monsieur d’, French ambassador to Scotland, 296.
P.
Paget, Sir William, afterwards first Baron Paget of Beaudesert, Lord
Privy Seal, 155, 225, 226, 234, 261, 262, 265, 269, 270, 271,
338, 363, 374, 402, 403, 406, 412, 413, 414, 415, 433, 434.
Palmer, Sir Thomas, 231.
—— Sir Robert, servant to the Earl of Arundel, 279.
Parliament, first of Queen Mary, meets on the 5th October, 1553, 257.
passes a bill declaring the marriage between the Queen’s father and
mother good and valid, 259.
re-establishes religion as it was left on the death of Henry
VIII., 260.
causes to be attainted those who had been foremost in conspiring to
exclude Mary from the throne, 260.
presents the Queen with an address on the subject of her
marriage, 262.
passes a bill of tonnage and poundage, 489.
is dissolved, 263.
second of Queen Mary, is opened on the 2nd April, 1554, passes the
Royal Marriage Act, and is immediately dissolved, 300.
third of Queen Mary, is opened on the 12th November, by the King
and Queen, 338.
reverses Reginald Pole’s attainder, 338.
both Houses of, pass a unanimous resolution to return to the
Communion of the Catholic Church, 339.
and are absolved, and restored to Catholic unity by Cardinal
Pole, 340.
the Queen’s title of Supreme Head abolished, and the Act against
heresy revived, 363.
fourth of Queen Mary, meets on the 21st October, 1555, and grants
the Queen a million of gold, 402.
passes the Queen’s bill for the restoration of Church property
vested in the Crown, 431.
Parr, Katharine, sixth wife of Henry VIII., 182, 183, 184, 190, 193.
her letter to the Princess Mary, 184.
her marriage to Admiral Seymour, 190.
her death, 193.
Parsons, the Rev. Robert, his indictment of Foxe, 366.
Pasqualigo, Venetian envoy, 4.
Paul III., Pope, 110, 146, 149, 335.
makes advances towards a reconciliation with Henry VIII., 110.
is ignorant for whom he grants a dispensation, 149.
makes Reginald Pole a Cardinal, 335.
Paul IV., Pope, 420, 438, 439, 444, 445-458.
imprisons Philip’s ambassador, 420.
his desire for peace, 439.
disassociates Mary from the blame he bestows on her husband, 455.
recalls Pole as legate _a latere_, 455.
Paulet, Poulet or Powlett, Sir William, Comptroller of the King’s
Household, 58, 59.
Peckham, Sir Edward, 225.
Pembroke, William Herbert, first Earl of, 223, 225, 226, 288, 290,
291, 323, 325, 326, 403, 407, 414, 433, 434, 440, 444, 448,
497, 499.
defends London against Sir Thomas Wyatt, 288.
conducts Philip to Winchester, 323.
Percy, Thomas, Earl of Northumberland. See Northumberland.
Peto, Friar, 456, 457, 458.
Petre, Sir William, Secretary of State, 196, 207, 223, 230, 234, 295,
341, 346, 403.
made a Privy Councillor by Queen Mary, 234.
Philibert, Emmanuel, Prince of Piedmont and Duke of Savoy, 345, 450,
452.
Philip II. of Spain, 254, 255, 274, 295, 309, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316
_et seq._, 320, 321, 322, 323, 325, 326, 328, 329, 331, 332,
335, 338, 339, 342, 343, 344, 346, 349, 364, 397, 399, 403,
404, 405, 406, 407, 413, 416, 417, 420, 431, 433, 436, 437,
438, 439, 440, 443, 444, 445, 446, 450, 453, 454, 455, 459,
461.
his arrival at Southampton, 314, 321.
his appearance and character, 316 _et seq._
the treasure he brought with him, 320.
his marriage to Queen Mary at Winchester, 325.
his style, 326.
is installed Knight of the Garter, 328.
receives the French ambassador, 331.
maintains Spanish etiquette, 332.
his politics, 335.
his letter to the Pope, 342.
issues a proclamation forbidding Spaniards to carry arms in
England, 343.
receives the Sword and Cap of Maintenance from the Pope, 344.
visits Elizabeth at Hampton Court, 346.
helps Courtenay out of captivity, 349.
is averse from the punishment of the seditious as heretics, 364.
his departure for the Netherlands, 397.
his manner of life at Brussels, 404.
is invested by the Empress with the Grand Mastership of the Golden
Fleece, 406.
succeeds to his father’s titles and honours, 407.
delays his return, in order to exact a promise from the Queen to
bestow on him the Crown matrimonial, 413.
his prudence regarding Elizabeth, 416.
declares war against Paul IV., 420.
his return to England, 436.
seeks to draw the English into his wars, 439.
and obtains such support as they are bound to give him by ancient
treaties, 440.
re-embarks for Flanders, 443.
gains the battle of St. Quentin, 443.
but fails to send timely relief to Calais, 450.
does all he can to recover the place, 453, 454.
sends de Feria to the Queen, 459.
and hearing of her mortal illness, orders him to visit
Elizabeth, 461.
Piamontese, Francesco, courier, 415, 420, 432, 433.
Pleine, Gerard de, 5.
Pole, Henry, Viscount Montague, eldest son of Margaret, Countess of
Salisbury, his arrest and attainder, 166.
is beheaded on Tower Hill, 167, 168.
—— Katharine, the Princess Mary’s nurse, 6.
—— Reginald, afterwards Cardinal, Archbishop of Canterbury, younger
son of the Countess of Salisbury, 50, 51, 165, 166, 167, 235,
252, 254, 266, 267, 334, 335, 336, 337, 338, 339, 340, 344,
365, 380, 387, 397, 399, 402, 406, 409, 410, 420, 422, 424,
427, 429, 431, 433, 435, 437, 438, 444, 446, 452, 455, 456,
457, 458, 461, 462, 463, 468, 469, 470, 481.
declines the Archbishopric of York, 50.
leaves England, 51.
his book on _The Unity of the Church_, 166.
letter to Cardinal Contarini, 167.
is made a Cardinal by Paul III., 335.
urges Mary to reconcile the kingdom with Rome and to restore Church
property, 235.
not yet being pledged to the ecclesiastical state, is proposed as a
husband for Queen Mary, 254.
is appointed legate _a latere et pro pace_, 266.
only just misses being elected Pope, 266 _note_.
his letter to King Philip, 334.
his attainder reversed, 338.
returns to England, 339.
reconciles the representatives of the nation to the Pope, 340.
is appointed to conduct Cranmer’s trial for heresy, 387.
is to take Philip’s place in the Government during the King’s
absence, 399.
consecrated Archbishop of Canterbury, 409, 410.
is somewhat embarrassed by Philip’s return, 437.
his death, 468.
Pope, Sir Thomas, 291, 418.
Portugal, King of, 11, 151, 315.
—— the Princess of, afterwards the Empress Isabella, 11, 12 _note_,
19, 136, 165.
—— the Infant of, 255.
Poynet, John, Bishop of Winchester, 244, 354.
Poyns, Sir Nicholas, 291.
Priuli, Monsignor, 433, 468.
Privy Council—
of Edward VI., 187, 189, 194, 196, 197, 198, 200-212, 218-221, 223,
234, 237, 373, 385.
of Queen Mary, 231, 234, 244, 245, 254, 261, 272, 276, 282, 283,
287, 295, 309, 310, 311, 319, 330, 332, 333, 334, 354, 357,
363, 364, 377, 390, 402, 405, 415, 437, 439, 440, 443, 466,
470, 474.
urges Mary in vain to secure Elizabeth’s person, 276.
panic-stricken on Wyatt’s rebellion, 283.
for treating the rebels as heretics, 309, 357.
some of the members incline to a secret understanding with
Elizabeth, 402.
and refuse to crown Philip, 405.
R.
Rauffe, John, gunner, 24.
Renard, Simon, Imperial ambassador to Queen Mary, 215, 237, 246, 247,
251, 253, 254, 263, 264, 267, 270, 273, 277, 283, 295, 299,
308, 309, 310, 313, 329, 338, 357.
entreats the Queen to take measures against Elizabeth’s
disloyalty, 237.
regards Elizabeth as the champion of the disaffected, 247.
declares that she and Courtenay are in collusion, 253.
introduces the subject of a marriage between Mary and Philip, 254.
his dislike of Gardiner, 310.
advises Philip to come with as little state as possible, 313.
his letter to the Emperor after the royal marriage, 329.
is sent to Brussels to negotiate the return of Cardinal Pole, 338.
Ricardes, Dr., one of the Princess Mary’s chaplains, 203.
Rich, Richard, first Baron, Lord Chancellor in Edward’s reign, 207,
208, 223.
Richmond, Duke of, natural son of Henry VIII., 65, 105, 136, 153.
Ridley, Nicholas, Bishop of London, 196, 212, 223, 224, 238, 268,
375, 377, 378.
visits the Princess Mary at Hunsdon, 212.
preaches against Mary’s accession, 223.
is arrested at Ipswich and sent to the Tower, 224.
Rochefoucauld, Count de la, 454.
Rochester, Sir Robert, Comptroller of the Household, 203, 206, 209,
211, 212, 234, 261, 295, 432.
Rochford, George Viscount. See Boleyn.
Rœulx, Baron de, 102.
Rogers, John, Prebendary of St. Paul’s, 372, 374.
Ross, ——, a reformed preacher, 363.
Rota, Court of the, 41, 57.
Rowte, Sir Henry, chaplain to the Princess Mary, 6.
Rudston, Master, 280, 287.
Russell, Sir John, first Earl of Bedford, 44, 223, 278, 313, 326,
341.
—— Francis, Viscount, son of the above, succeeded him as second
Earl, 296.
Rutland, Henry Manners, Earl of, 403.
Ruy Gomez, Prince of Eboli, 313.
S.
Sagudino, Venetian envoy, 5.
Sainte Croix, Prosper de, 253.
St. Asaph, Bishop of, Thomas Goldwell, 469.
Saint Thomas of Aquin, 361.
Salinas, Martin de, 18.
Salisbury, Margaret Plantagenet, Countess of, 2, 25, 26, 64, 81, 166,
167, 168, 181.
accompanies the Princess Mary into Wales, 25.
is removed from Mary’s household, 64.
her arrest and attainder, 166.
her execution, 168, 181.
Saluce, Marquis de, 67.
Sampson, Dr., 59.
Sanguino, Signor Carlo da, gentleman of the mouth to Philip II., 396.
San Saluto, Abbot of, 406.
Saunders, Laurence, Rector of All Hallows, 372, 374.
Savage, Mistress Anne, 53 _note_.
Savagnano, Mario, his report of a visit to the English court, 45.
Savoy, Duke of. See Emmanuel Philibert.
Scory, Dr. John, successively Bishop of Rochester, Chichester and
Hereford, 243.
Seamer, Master John, 291.
Selve, Monsieur de, French ambassador to the Venetian Republic, 275.
Seymour, Edward, Earl of Hertford, afterwards Duke of Somerset, and
Lord Protector, 189, 193, 194, 196, 211.
—— Jane, third wife of Henry VIII., sister of the above, 99, 103,
105, 107, 112, 125, 137, 149, 150, 153, 154.
her affection for the Princess Mary, 125, 150.
her death, 153.
—— Sir Thomas, Lord Seymour of Sudley, Lord High Admiral, 189, 190,
193.
Sforza, Francesco, Duke of Milan, 49.
Shelton, Sir John, 218.
—— Lady (also called Mistress), governess to the Princess Mary, 69,
70, 75, 81, 99, 124.
Shrewsbury, Earl of, 142, 223, 225.
Skeffington, Sir William, 24.
Smith, Sir Thomas, Secretary of State in Edward’s reign, 196, 374.
Sorranzo, Giacomo, Venetian ambassador to England, 261, 302, 518.
to France, 411, 412.
his description of Queen Mary, 318.
Soto Pedro, 254, 377, 380.
Southwell, Sir Richard, Master of the Ordnance, 295.
Spaniards in England, 323, 329, 343, 344, 356, 436.
Speke, Sir George, 167.
Spinelli, Gasparo, 28, 29, 30.
Stafford, Thomas, grandson of the Duke of Buckingham, 441, 442, 452.
Strelley, Sir Anthony, 403.
—— Mrs. Frideswide, 351.
Strozzi, Prince, 454.
Stuart, Mary, Queen of Scots, 215, 245, 274, 306 _note_, 315, 359.
Suffolk, Duke of. See Brandon, Charles, and Grey, Henry.
—— Frances, Duchess of, daughter of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk,
and Mary Tudor, Queen Dowager of France, sister of Henry VIII.,
214, 219, 232, 279.
Surian, Michiel, replaces Giovanni Michiel as Venetian ambassador to
England, 436, 437, 439, 443, 444, 451, 453, 462, 465, 468.
Sussex, Earl of, 58, 59, 124, 218, 304, 305, 328.
Sweden, Gustavus Vasa, King of, 464.
Sydney, Elizabeth, 157 _note_.
—— Mabel, _ibid._
T.
Tarbes, Bishop of. See Grammont.
Taylor, John, _alias_ Cardmaker, Rector of Hadley, 372, 374.
Thirlby, Thomas, Bishop of Ely in the reign of Mary, 326, 387, 388,
400, 424.
Thomas, William, plots the murder of Queen Mary, 355.
Throckmorton, Sir Nicholas, 198, 410, 486.
Trivulci, Cardinal, 452.
Tunstal, Cuthbert, successively Bishop of London and of Durham, 9,
20, 21, 22, 231, 326.
ambassador-extraordinary to Spain, 20.
his opinion of the Princess Mary, 22.
released from the Tower on Mary’s accession, 231.
Turenne, Vicomte de, 30, 31.
U.
Udal, Nicholas, Headmaster of Eton College, and Vicar of Braintree,
183, 410.
Underhill, Edward, Gospeller, 227, 288, 327, 328 _note_.
V.
Vagrancy, 248.
Venier, Marc Antonio, 47.
Vives, Ludovicus, 26, 39, 40.
W.
Waldegrave, Sir Edward, a member of the Princess Mary’s household,
afterwards Master of the Wardrobe, 203, 205, 211, 234.
Wallop, Sir John, English ambassador to Francis I., 47, 154.
Warham, William, Archbishop of Canterbury, 36, 37, 52, 381.
Warre, Lord de la, 416, 421.
Warwick, Earl of. See Northumberland, Duke of.
—— —— eldest son of the above, 231.
Wassilegevich, Ivan, Czar of Russia, 488.
Wentworth, Lord, Deputy-governor of Calais, 448, 450.
Westmorland, Earl of, 442.
Weston, Dr., 302, 311, 386.
Westweek, Father, 514 App.
White, Dr., Bishop of Winchester, preaches Queen Mary’s funeral
sermon, and suffers for his praise of her, 472-474.
Williams, Sir John, 225.
—— Lord, of Thame, 312.
Willoughby, Sir Hugh, 488.
Wiltshire, Earl of. See Boleyn, Sir Thomas.
Winchester, Marquis of, Lord High Treasurer, 223, 234, 304, 305,
326.
Windsor, Sir Andrew, 24.
—— Lord, 225.
Wingfield, Sir Anthony, Comptroller of the Household to Edward
VI., 207.
—— Sir Richard, ambassador-extraordinary to Spain, 13 _note_, 20, 21.
Wolsey, Cardinal of York and Lord Chancellor, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12,
13, 14, 18, 19, 24, 28, 32, 33, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41, 50, 55,
136.
sponsor at the baptism of the Princess Mary, 2.
his ascendency over the King, 4, 6.
his foreign policy, 12, 13, 18.
his ambition and dreams of the Papacy, 28, 32.
schemes to marry the Princess Mary to Francis I., 33.
opens a legatine Court, in conjunction with Campeggio, 40.
his disgrace, 41, 50, 55.
Wood, Anthony à, 367.
—— Avis, laundress to the Princess Mary, 6.
Worcester, Earl of, 289, 308.
Worth, John, his letter to Lord Lisle, 167.
Wotton, Dr., Dean of the Chapel to the Princess Mary, and ambassador
to Charles V. and Henry II., 25, 201, 202, 266, 406, 442.
Wriothesley, Sir Thomas, Keeper of the Wardrobe, and Secretary to
Thomas Cromwell, 162, 170, 172.
Wyatt, Sir Thomas, son of the poet, special envoy from Henry VIII. to
Charles V., and author of the second rebellion under Mary, 145,
151, 275, 277, 280, 282, 287, 289, 290, 291, 292, 296, 299,
303, 308, 311.
sets up the standard of revolt in Kent, 280.
arrives at Hyde Park Corner, 289.
gives himself up at Temple Bar, 290.
his conflicting statements concerning Elizabeth and Courtenay, 296,
299, 311.
his execution, 311.
Z.
Zapolski, John, King of Hungary, 49.
Zwingli Ulrich, Swiss reformer, 372.
THE ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS LIMITED.
┌───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ Transcriber’s Note: │
│ │
│ The original spelling, hyphenation, and punctuation have been │
│ retained, with the exception of apparent typographical errors │
│ which have been corrected without note. │
│ │
│ Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. │
│ │
│ Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant │
│ form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. │
│ │
│ Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, _like │
│ this_. │
│ │
│ Mid-paragraph illustrations have been moved between paragraphs │
│ and some illustrations have been moved closer to the text that │
│ references them. The List of Illustrations paginations were │
│ changed accordingly. │
│ │
│ Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, │
│ _like this_. │
│ │
│ Footnotes were moved to the end of chapters and numbered in one │
│ continuous sequence. │
│ │
│ Superscripts are enclosed in brackets like this: 2^d or like │
│ this: 2^{nd}. │
│ │
│ Underlined words are surrounded by tildes like this: ~100 pounds~.│
│ │
│ These variants of Boleyn were unchanged: Boleyne (p. 85), Boleine │
│ (p. 149). │
│ │
│ p. 243: “with mine own seal joined thereto.”[1] │
│ Footnote anchor removed by the transcriber as it lacks a │
│ corresponding footnote. │
└───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "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" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.