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]