“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.”