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]