Mary Tudor (16 page)
Authors: Linda Porter
Late in October, Henry took Anne with him for an important meeting with Francis I in Calais. It was Anne’s first time back on French soil since she left the French court in 1521. Superbly dressed and attended like a queen consort, Anne was also now in possession of the jewels of a queen of England. Katherine of Aragon had reluctantly surrendered them only at the king’s express command, not wanting them to ‘adorn the scandal of Christendom’. This was her only public outburst against Anne Boleyn, the woman she would not deign to name.
The French summit was a great success in public relations terms and, finally confident that they would soon be man and wife, Henry and Anne evidently slept together, if not for the first time, then certainly after an abstinence of many years. By January 1533 Anne was pregnant. She and Henry were secretly married by Cranmer at the end of the month. On 23 May 1533, Cranmer pronounced the king’s marriage to Katherine null and void on his own authority and on Whitsunday, 1 June,Anne was crowned queen at Westminster Abbey, after several days of carefully orchestrated magnificence. But the splendid entry to London, the pageants, the feasting and display, do not seem to have caught the imagination of a populace who had loved Katherine of Aragon and who were more curious than demonstrative. Only the oldest of London’s citizens remembered the entry of a pretty Spanish princess as a royal bride more than 30 years ago, but most Londoners were not entranced by the new queen. Perhaps they were thinking of the woman she had dethroned and pondering its impact on the princess Mary, who took no part in proceedings.
Mary learned of her father’s marriage at the end of April, about the same time that the king publicly acknowledged Anne as his ‘most dear and well-beloved wife’.The imperial ambassador reported that the news was communicated to her at the same time that she was told of the king’s commandment forbidding all further contact with her mother. Mary was naturally very distressed,‘although the princess has since begged and entreated him to appoint someone next to her person to give evidence that her messages to her mother are only in reference to her health, and proposing that her own letters and the queen’s may previously pass through the king’s hands, her prayers have been completely disregarded’. The ambassador went on to add: “This prohibition [I hear] was read to the princess the very same day that the king caused his new marriage to be announced to her.’ It would have been so very easy to be provoked, but Mary steadied herself. She probably also knew of Anne’s pregnancy, by then more than obvious, but this was not a reason to panic or overreact. Anne’s triumph could be short-lived. She might not survive labour (at 31 she was comparatively old by Tudor standards to be facing her first delivery); she could have a stillbirth or a child that did not survive its early weeks, as had so tragically happened to Mary’s mother. So the princess held herself in check: ‘… she was at first thoughtful and then, as the very wise person that she is, dissembled as much as she could and seemed even to rejoice at it.Without alluding in the least to the said marriage, and without communicating with any living soul, after her dinner the princess set about writing a letter to her father … on its being shown to the king … he was marvellously content and pleased, praising above all things the wisdom and prudence of the princess, his daughter. ’
16
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The letter has not survived, which is a pity. It must have cost some effort to write. Henry, meanwhile, was only too happy on the basis of this piece of filial obedience and good sense to let things lie.The girl was not going to present any of the problems her mother had plagued him with for so long. She could be afforded a little time and space before the birth of her half-sibling.When that happened, he would have no choice but to make a decision on her status.
Chapter Four
Mary Abased
‘I think you are the most obstinate woman that ever was.’
T
he first half of the year 1533 promised a false reassurance of normality for Princess Mary. At the customary exchange of gifts that characterised the New Year, rather than Christmas, in Tudor England, her father gave her a gilt cup and a ‘gilt cruse with a cover’. These may not seem very imaginative presents. Mary, as befitted her status, already possessed an impressive collection of such items, going back to her early childhood. Similar valuable pieces of plate were part of Mary’s tangible wealth. They were not household items but symbols of privilege, their value indicating the power and riches of the donor and the favoured position of the recipient. Carefully entered into the accounts of the princess’s household by her financial controller, Henry VIII’s largesse provided glittering evidence of who Mary was. It seemed as if nothing had changed.
he first half of the year 1533 promised a false reassurance of normality for Princess Mary. At the customary exchange of gifts that characterised the New Year, rather than Christmas, in Tudor England, her father gave her a gilt cup and a ‘gilt cruse with a cover’. These may not seem very imaginative presents. Mary, as befitted her status, already possessed an impressive collection of such items, going back to her early childhood. Similar valuable pieces of plate were part of Mary’s tangible wealth. They were not household items but symbols of privilege, their value indicating the power and riches of the donor and the favoured position of the recipient. Carefully entered into the accounts of the princess’s household by her financial controller, Henry VIII’s largesse provided glittering evidence of who Mary was. It seemed as if nothing had changed.
At the end of May, Mary spent several weeks at the archbishop of Canterbury’s palace at Otford in Kent. She seems to have liked it there and had also visited the previous autumn, when she was joined by her cousin, Frances Brandon. But that summer, Frances’s mother was dying and there was no question of the cousins sharing each other’s company. When the duchess of Suffolk died in June 1533, Mary and her own mother lost a staunch friend. The king had not forgiven the little sister on whom he once doted for her very public disapproval of Anne Boleyn, and the two of them were never really reconciled. Mary Tudor died away from court, on her estate in East Anglia, but her daughter Frances remained close to Mary throughout an eventful life which saw her own daughter usurp Mary’s throne.
Despite this family bereavement and the uncertainties about her own future, Mary’s time in Kent passed pleasantly enough. She had sufficient leisure to occupy herself with problems faced by members of her household and to ask favours on their behalf. Still styling herself ‘Marye Princess’, she wrote to Thomas Cromwell, Henry’s chief minister, requesting his understanding if the 80-year-old father of one of her servants did not come to London in person to receive the knighthood he had recently been awarded.
1
Mary was a concerned and considerate mistress to her servants and their families throughout her life, a trait that she must have inherited from her mother, since her father never showed the slightest sense of loyalty to those around him. Her life unruffled, or so it seemed, the young princess was happy to be able to use her influence for the benefit of others.
1
Mary was a concerned and considerate mistress to her servants and their families throughout her life, a trait that she must have inherited from her mother, since her father never showed the slightest sense of loyalty to those around him. Her life unruffled, or so it seemed, the young princess was happy to be able to use her influence for the benefit of others.
Having handled her father’s new marriage with sense and diplomacy, perhaps Mary allowed herself to believe that her own situation was still secure. The court remained at Greenwich, where Anne Boleyn was finding the last months of pregnancy difficult, and Henry did not go on his normal summer progress. Mary had good information on what was happening from the marchioness of Exeter and from the imperial ambassador. She could do nothing but wait. But there were ominous signs of what was to come.
In mid-July, Lord Hussey, her chamberlain, was required by Cromwell to obtain Mary’s jewels. Placed in a most uncomfortable position between the demands of the king and the determination of his daughter not to give up a key element of what made her a princess, Hussey squirmed with embarrassment. He was anxious that Cromwell should know of his attempts to carry out the royal command, but he met with a wall of obstruction from Mary and the countess of Salisbury. First, they stalled, saying that no inventory of Mary’s jewels could be found; then the princess announced that she would not hand anything over unless she saw the king’s letter expressly ordering this. Hussey struggled for more than a month. Naturally, there was exactly the same lack of cooperation when he tried to obtain the princess’s plate, being dismissed by the countess with the curt observation that the plate ‘cannot conveniently be spared’, as if this was a begging neighbour asking for a loan of crockery, not a king demanding return of his possessions. No wonder Hussey vented some of his exasperation on Cromwell: ‘Would to God that the king and you did know what I have had to do here of late.’
2
Mary was an intelligent, stubborn girl, and her passion for finery, which must already have been developed by the age of 17, was an essential part of her character. She loved her jewels for their beauty as well as the rank they conferred, and she would not give them up meekly. She was also proud and born to command, not to be ordered about by her chamberlain.The rational part of her already knew what was happening, and she had passed the first test, her father’s remarriage, with considerable maturity. But the emotional strain was beginning to tell. Her mental and physical well-being could not be separated. Everything now depended on the child Anne Boleyn was carrying. For Mary, this would be a far greater challenge to her composure than the humiliation of her mother, heartbreaking though that had been.
2
Mary was an intelligent, stubborn girl, and her passion for finery, which must already have been developed by the age of 17, was an essential part of her character. She loved her jewels for their beauty as well as the rank they conferred, and she would not give them up meekly. She was also proud and born to command, not to be ordered about by her chamberlain.The rational part of her already knew what was happening, and she had passed the first test, her father’s remarriage, with considerable maturity. But the emotional strain was beginning to tell. Her mental and physical well-being could not be separated. Everything now depended on the child Anne Boleyn was carrying. For Mary, this would be a far greater challenge to her composure than the humiliation of her mother, heartbreaking though that had been.
Katherine was naturally concerned for her daughter’s welfare. Although she had not seen her for two years she knew from Mary’s letters how the princess was faring and she had a further, much-appreciated source of information and support in Charles V’s ambassador, Eustace Chapuys. In dangerous and fast-changing times, Chapuys was Katherine’s link with the outside world, the visible face of her nephew at the English court. He was also to become a mentor to Mary and, although it is an exaggeration to say he was a father-figure to the princess, since the differences in their social rank would have made that an unrealistic description of their relationship, still he was a very important constant in some of the most difficult years of her life.
Chapuys replaced Inigo de Mendoza as imperial ambassador in the summer of 1529. Mendoza was a Spaniard, the bishop of Burgos, and an old-style diplomat who combined representation of his country abroad with religious office. This was not at all uncommon at the time, and a number of French and English diplomats held religious posts as well.The alternative source of income was an attraction, given that ambassadors were seldom well paid and had to find ready money for their own expenses and networks of informers. But Mendoza, who complained of constant ill health, was viewed as too hot-tempered and tactless to handle the increasing complications of the situation in England. He was, in fact, the last Spaniard to represent Charles in London for the rest of the emperor’s reign. Henceforward, imperial diplomats came from other parts of the emperor’s domains, either the Low Countries or eastern parts of modern France. They were civil servants rather than church grandees and were often accomplished professionals. Mary would work with four different imperial ambassadors during her life, but none of them played a more crucial role in her development than Eustace Chapuys.
Katherine had specifically requested Chapuys as Mendoza’s replacement because of his legal expertise and prowess in Latin. She believed he could help her over the divorce but, in the end, it was her daughter to whom he rendered the greater service. He was a Savoyard, born in Annecy, around 1490. One year before Mary’s birth, he left the University of Turin with a doctorate, and began to establish himself in the government service that was to be his life. In 1517, the bishop of Geneva put him in a key post in the diocese, dealing with the Swiss cantons, where Latin was the official language. On an intellectual as well as a linguistic level he was also highly regarded, being perfectly in tune with the humanist ideas of his day. Chapuys corresponded with Erasmus and counted Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa of Nettesheim, a leading European figure, as one of his closest friends.
His professional life was varied. He progressed through the service of the duke of Savoy and the constable of Bourbon until, in 1527, he entered the employment of Charles V. Two years later he was given the difficult and by no means attractive posting to England. There he remained for 16 years, a faithful servant of his master and a committed opponent of the French, whom he hated because of their designs on his homeland, though he spoke and wrote French fluently. He is also one of the most detailed sources of information that we have on Mary’s life at this period.The impact of the divorce and subsequent sweeping changes in religion in England come alive in his fluid if sometimes rambling dispatches. Charles V did not always agree with him and Chapuys’ interpretations of what was happening were not always correct, but he was a shrewd observer of men. Though he thoroughly disapproved of the king’s treatment of Mary, as well as the chaos into which he had plunged England, he personally found Henry VIII courteous and affable. To say he liked him might be an exaggeration, but there was definitely respect.
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