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.

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]

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:

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.

And again:—

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.

[192] Sm., vol. xlvii., f. 26, 2. Hearne, p. 144.