PAINTER UNKNOWN. NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY
No doubt the Duke expected a reprimand, and a sharp one, and the question, whether Wolsey would tell the King or conceal the first and suggest a second marriage, must have been often discussed with Mary, but when the reply to his letter of March 5 was received, he suddenly saw plainly that he had mistaken both Henry and Wolsey, and he felt that not only his world was tottering about his ears, but his very life was for the moment in danger. "My lord," wrote Wolsey, "with sorrowful heart I write unto you signifying unto the same that I have to my no little discomfort and inward heaviness perceived by your letters, dated at Paris the 5th day of this instant month, how that you be secretly married unto the King's sister and has accompanied together as man and wife. And albeit you by your said letters desired me in no wise to disclose the same to the King's Grace, yet seeing the same toucheth not only his honour, your promise made to his Grace, and also my truth towards the same, I could no less do, but incontinent upon the sight of your said letters declare and shew the contents therof to his Highness, which at the first hearing could scantly believe the same to be true. But after that I had showed to his Grace, that by your own writing I had knowledge thereof, his Grace giving credence thereunto took the same grievously and displeasantly, not only for that you durst presume to marry his sister without his knowledge, but also for the breaking of your promise made to his Grace in his hand, I being present at Eltham. Having also such assured affiance in your truth that for all the world, and to have been torn with wild horses, you would not have broken your oath, promise and assurance made to his Grace. Which he doth well perceive that he is deceived of the constant and assured trust that he thought to have found in you. And for my part no man can be more sorry than I am that you have so done. And so his Grace would that I should expressly write unto you, being so incholered therewith that I cannot devise nor study for the remedy thereof considering that you have failed to him which hath brought you up of low degree to be of this great honour, and that you were the man in all the world he loved and trusted best, and was content that with good order and saving his honour you should have in marriage his said sister. Cursed be the blind affection and counsel that hath brought ye hereunto, fearing that such sudden and unavised dealing shall have sudden repentance!
"Nevertheless, in this great perplexity I see no other remedy but first to move your humble pursuits by your own writing, causing also the French King and the Queen and other your friends to write, with this also that shall follow—which I assure you I write unto you of my own head without knowledge of any person living, being in great doubt whether the same shall make your peace or no—notwithstanding if any remedy be it shall be by that way. It shall be well done that with all diligence possible you and the Queen bind yourselves by obligation to pay yearly to the King during the Queen's life £4000 of her dower, and so you and she shall have remaining of the said dower £6000 and above to live withal yearly. Over and besides this you must bind yourselves to give unto the King the plate of gold and jewels which the late French King had. And whereas the Queen shall have full restitution of her dot, you shall not only give entirely the said dot to the King, but also cause the French King to be bound to pay to the King the 200,000 crowns which his Grace is bound to pay to the Queen, in full contentation of the said dot, de novissimis denariis, and the said French King to acquit the King for the payment thereof, like as the King hath more at large declared his pleasure to you by his letters sent unto you. This is the way to make your peace, whereat if you deeply consider what danger you be and shall be in, having the King's displeasure, I doubt not both the Queen and you will not stick, but with all effectual diligence endeavour yourselves to recover the King's favour as well by this means as by other substantial true ways which by mine advice you shall use and none other towards his Grace, whom by colorable drifts and ways you cannot abuse. Now I have told you mine opinion hardily. Follow the same and trust not too much to your own wit, nor follow not the counsel of them that hath not more deeply considered the dangers of this matter than they have hitherto done.
"And as touching the overtures made by the French King for Tournay, and also for a new confederation with the King and him like as I have lately written unto you, I would not advise you to wade any further in these matters, for it be thought that the French King intendeth to make his hand by favouring you in the attaining to the said marriage. Which when he shall perceive that by your means he cannot get such things as he desireth, peradventure he shall show some change and alteration in the Queen's affairs whereof great inconvenience might ensue. Look wisely therefore upon the same, and consider you have enough to do in redressing your own causes, and think it shall be hard to induce the King to give you a commission of trust which hath so lightly regarded the same towards his Grace.
"Thus I have as a friend declared my mind unto you, and never trust to use me nor have me in anything contrary to truth, my master's honours, profits, wealth and surety, to the advancement and furtherance whereof no creature living is more bounden, as our Lord knoweth who send your Grace to look well and deeply upon your acts and doings, for you put yourself in the greatest danger that ever man was."[ [425]
It was a masterly letter and put Suffolk out of conceit with his own wits and Mary with her counsel, and joined them in one desire to make plain the utter intolerableness of their situation to Henry. Wolsey warned them to be truthful and frank, for one part of the secret of his influence with the King's suspicious nature was his own love for plain dealing. So they wrote. Mary—bringing in the incident of the Friars' report to her as though it had recently happened, though from earlier letters of Suffolk's they were in hand with her before the arrival of the embassy—took all the blame on her shoulders and was ready to face the consequences. The best of her shows in admirable light in the following letter:—"Please it your Grace, to the greatest discomfort, sorrow and disconsolation but lately I have been advertised of the great and high displeasure which your highness beareth unto me and my lord of Suffolk for the marriage between us. Sir, I will not in anywise deny but that I have offended your Grace, for the which I do put myself most humbly in your clemency and mercy. Nevertheless to the intent that your highness should not think that I had simply, carnally or of any sensual appetite done the same, I having no re[gar]d to fall in your Grace's displeasure, I assure your Grace that I had never done [without your] ordinance and consent, but by the r[eason of the grea]t despair w[herein I was put] by the two fr[iars ...], which hath certified me in case I come [to] En[gland], your Council would never consent to the marriage between the said lord and me, with [ma]ny other sayings concerni[ng] the same promise, so that I verily [thought] that the said friar would never have offered to have made me like over[ture] unless they might have had charge from some of your Council, the which put me in such consternation, fear and doubt of the obtaining of the thing which I desired most in this world, that I rather chose to put me in your mercy [by] accomplishing the marriage, than to put me in the order of your Council [knowing th]em to be otherways minded. Whereupon, Sir, I put [my lord of Su]ffolk in choice w[hether he woul]d accomplish th[e marriag]e within f[our days or else that he should never have] enjoyed me. Whereby I know well that I constrained him to break such promises as he made your Grace, as well for fear of losing me as also that I ascertained him that by their consent I would never come in to England. And now that your Grace knoweth the both offences of the which I have been the only occasion, I most humbly and as your most [sorrow]ful sister requiring you to have compassion upon us both and to pardon our offences, and that it will please your Grace to write to me and to my lord of Suffolk some [comfort]able words, for it sh[all be] greatest comfort for u[s both]. By your loving and most humble sister,
Mary."[ [426]
Then she wrote to Wolsey: "My very good lord, in most hearty manner I commend me unto you, letting you the same to understand that my lord of Suffolk hath sent me your letters which lately he received by Cooke, by which I perceive the faithful good mind which you do bear unto us both, and how that you be determined not to leave us in our extreme trouble, for the which your most fast and loving dealing I most entirely thank you, requiring you to continue towards us as you have been, which shall never be forgotten in any of our behalfs, but to the uttermost of our power we shall be always ready to shew [you all] faithful kindness [as knowe]th our Lord who [send you long] life. My lord, I require you that I may have me comfortable letters from the King my brother and from you, for I trow there was never woman that had more need. By your loving friend,
Mary, Queen of France."[ [427]
But for all Mary's generosity the onus of the explanation fell on Suffolk, for he was on trial before the Council as well as before the King, and in spite of Wolsey's warning he insisted on attempting to explain the dealings with Francis which had laid him open to their suspicions. "Alas, Sir," he wrote, "as I understand it should be thought that I should incline too much to the French King's mind. Sir, if I ever inclined to him in thought or deed otherwise than might stand with your honour [let] me die for it." And he goes on to give his opinion of how the amity should be brought about. Then he attacks the main question. "Sir, one thing I insure your Grace, that it shall never be said that ever I did offend [you]r Grace in word, deed or thought, but for this [matter] touching the Queen, your sister, the which I can no longer nor will not hide from your Grace." Then he describes as far as he can word for word his interview with Mary on the night of his arrival at Paris, and begs the King to forgive him and defend him against his enemies who will think to put him out of favour. He begs some word of comfort from Henry, "for I promise your Grace that I was never a day whole since I parted from your Grace. And, Sir, at the writing of this I'm not very well."[ [428] Another letter from Wolsey on his danger from the suspicions of the Council drew a more passionate appeal from him, and it is characteristic that his greatest sorrow is Henry's loss of confidence in him, the fault of his marriage with the Queen is as nothing in his eyes with the breaking of his promise, for that had moved Henry's anger more than the other. Thus he kneels before the King.