Mary Tudor (19 page)

It got neither, because about the middle of December the Earl of Arundel approached Lord St John, thinking him to be a kindred spirit, and solicited his participation. To have secured the support of the president would have meant a distinct tactical advantage. However, the innocuous St John for once acted decisively, and immediately told Warwick what was afoot. This put the tactical advantage on the other foot, and just before Christmas Dudley was able to ambush the plotters in a full council meeting, declaring that whoever sought the protector’s blood sought his also.
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As a result the leading plotters were dismissed and placed under house arrest. Soon after, a settlement was agreed with the Duke of Somerset, and after a few months he returned to the council.

These developments were bad news for Mary. The new men whom Warwick began recruiting to the council in place of the disgraced plotters were all (more or less) Protestants. She declined an invitation to court for Christmas, lamenting to Van der Delft that the only reason for the summons had been to deprive her of the nativity mass: ‘I would not find myself in such a place for anything in the world …’ Van der Delft began to drop pointed hints, as Chapuys had done, that the time had come for the Emperor to intervene, or at the very least to rescue the beleaguered woman from her predicament.
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Charles was unimpressed. From his point of view Mary’s value was as a pressure point, a means whereby he could apply leverage to the English government. He had neither the will nor the resources to invade England, rightly mistrusting his ambassador’s assurances that ‘all good men’ desired it; and Mary in the Low Countries would be of no use to him at all. From his point of view she would be deserting her post.

A desultory negotiation for a Portuguese marriage went on through the spring of 1550. The princess would no doubt have been pleased and gratified – if anyone had asked her – but neither of the main parties was keen. The Emperor was not opposed, but would prefer her to remain in England, while Warwick wanted her where he could see her. Meanwhile the increasingly Protestant English council was becoming restive in the face of Charles’ covert bullying, and Warwick decided upon a sharp reversal of policy. He had defended Boulogne more effectively than anyone had expected, but it was ludicrously expensive and he now needed to fend off the Emperor by bringing the war to an end. In March he sold Boulogne back to the French for 400,000 crowns (about £130,000), thus easing his financial problems and executing a political
volte-face
at the same time.
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Mary either did not read these warning signs, or she was busily reacquainting herself with a taste for martyrdom. The compromise agreement of the previous year had been for the princess to enjoy the mass within her household, but she had regularly been opening her house and chapel to anyone who cared to attend, apparently convinced that she had a sacred duty to provide for the spiritual needs of all and sundry. The council considered this to be an abuse of privilege and was by April proposing measures to put a stop to it. Both Mary and Van der Delft protested vigorously that the council was going back on the protector’s given word.

At the end of April the ambassador visited her at her own request at one of her minor residences, Woodham Walter near Maldon in Essex. He found her in a state of agitation bordering on hysteria. The Marquis of Brandenburg was seeking her hand in marriage, and she had informed the council that she would not marry without the Emperor’s consent. The marquis was a Lutheran – what else should she do? There was little that he could say, but while he was thinking how to say it, he had been treated to an inconsequential tirade against the iniquities of the English government. The council was determined to martyr her as her father had done: ‘such persons fear no God and respect no persons, but follow their own fancy, and my cause is so righteous in God’s sight, that if His Majesty favours me [he will not delay] until I am past all help’.
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Van der Delft did his best to calm her down, but he was genuinely worried. He did not seriously fear that Mary would be martyred in any literal sense, but she was clearly cracking up under the strain.

Charles was sufficiently convinced by this to allow a plan of escape to be drawn up, although he left the details to his sister, Mary of Hungary. A window of opportunity was created by the fact that Van der Delft was about to be recalled on the (perfectly genuine) grounds of ill health. He could thus set up the whole plan before withdrawing and his successor, Jehan Scheyfve, would know nothing about it. Van der Delft withdrew in the middle of May, and the attempt was begun on 30 June.

The Imperial agent was Jehan Dubois, the embassy secretary, and the only evidence we have of what transpired comes from a detailed report that he made to Mary of Hungary in mid-July.
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It is highly specific, and there is no reason to doubt its accuracy. The plan was for Mary to go to Woodham Walter, and for two Imperial ships to lie off the coast at Maldon on the pretext of looking for pirates. Dubois would then land in the guise of a corn merchant, display his wares in Maldon and make contact with the household at Woodham Walter. Under cover of darkness the princess would make her way down to the river, and be taken off in one of the ships’ boats. The only difficulties appeared to be that the watches had been increased on the coast, and that the local population might not have been quite as sympathetic to the Imperial cause as the old ambassador had believed.

Dubois landed very early on the morning of Wednesday 2 July, and immediately sent a note to Robert Rochester, Mary’s controller, at Woodham Walter. To his dismay, Rochester then turned up in Maldon and endeavoured to put him off the whole enterprise. Supposing, he argued, that the king should die while Mary was out of the country – what would then happen to the succession? He was unconvinced that his mistress was in any pressing danger. Dubois responded that all this ground had been covered between Mary and Van der Delft before the latter’s departure, and that the princess had placed herself unreservedly in his hands, saying: ‘I am like a little ignorant girl, and I care nothing for my goods or for the world, but only for God’s service and my conscience.’ All this Rochester knew perfectly well, because he had been present.
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Apparently persuaded, Rochester then returned to Woodham Walter, agreeing to send for Dubois as soon as Mary was ready.

After a few nervous hours word was duly brought by a servant, and Dubois made his way inland. What he found was not a state of readiness, but chaos. The princess was busy packing all sorts of possessions into long hop sacks, and protesting that she could not be ready until Friday – two days away. Controlling his impatience as best he could, the secretary pointed out that she had no need of all these possessions, and that speed was of the essence. Word then arrived that the townsmen of Maldon were proposing to impound Dubois’ boat, because they were suspicious of the ships lying off the port. Dubois argued that this merely increased the need for speed, but he was overruled, the controller declaring that the whole process was now too dangerous. Mary, whose decision this should have been, was simply standing among the chaos saying, ‘What shall I do? What is to become of me?’ while the men made up her mind for her. After some discussion it was agreed that Dubois would withdraw and try again in ten or twelve days when the alarms had died down. He managed to make his way safely back to his ship, but no further attempt was made. Rochester’s servant never kept an agreed rendezvous in Antwerp, and it looks very much as though the controller had sabotaged the whole enterprise.
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Dubois had no particular incentive to make Mary look like a dithering idiot, but that is what he did.

Although given to emotional outbursts, the princess was not normally indecisive, at least not to this extent. The explanation for her strange conduct on this occasion probably lies in two unrelated but acute dilemmas that confronted her. The first was a problem of conscience. By running away she would be relieving the pressure on herself at the cost of abandoning her people, most of whom would not be able to accompany her. The mass that they could enjoy under her protection would be denied them, and their salvation would be imperilled. Could she betray them in such a fashion? The second dilemma was more practical. Rochester knew perfectly well that there were council spies in the household. He did not know who they were, or how much they knew, but they were certainly there. He took the strengthening of the watches to be a sign that the council suspected what was afoot, and believed (with reason) that if an escape was frustrated, his mistress would find herself in a worse condition than before. Mary also liked and trusted her controller, who was conspicuously loyal to her. She could not simply ignore his advice, especially as she did not know Dubois at all well.

Rochester’s fears were probably justified, because on 13 July – at just about the time when the second attempt was due – the council sent Sir John Gates into Essex with a troop of horse ‘to stop the going away of the Lady Mary, because it was credibly informed that Scipperus should steal her away to Antwerp’. Cornille Scepperus was the captain who had commanded the Imperial ships.
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It is quite likely that Rochester’s caution had helped to prevent a major disaster, at the cost of making his mistress look a fool in the eyes of her Imperial protectors. He also knew what Van der Delft would not see, and Dubois would have had no chance to learn, that although Mary was popular in that part of Essex, there would have been no shortage of men prepared to frustrate her flight abroad.

MARY’S ATTEMPTED ESCAPE, mid-1550

Report of Jehan Duboys on the matter concerning the Lady Mary, drawn up in full and as nearly as possible in the actual words spoken.

The men-of-war arrived off Harwich after much bad weather on the evening of Monday, 30th June, and I, Jehan Duboys, left M. d’Eecke
*
the next morning, as the passage I took was not navigable during the night, to go to Maldon. M. d’Eecke was to follow the next day, and proceed to Stansgate
†
five miles from Maldon, with only one ship … the said Henry, the lady Mary’s servant and my brother [then] made their appearance. From them I learned that they had spoken with the Controller
‡
late the evening before, and that he had raised several difficulties tending to delay us in taking our load on board. He told me that as soon as I came he would visit me and give me a fuller explanation … We went to the house and the Controller and I walked up and down in the garden. The gist of his talk was that he saw no earthly possibility of bringing my Lady down to the water side without running grave risks, because of the watch that was posted every night at all the passages, the suspicions of certain of her household, which was not so free from enemies to her religion as she imagined, and the danger she would incur of being held back … And since then, at the late ambassador’s
§
leave taking, while the risks and perils of staying or going were being discussed, I had heard her, in his presence, say these words:

‘I am like a little ignorant girl, and I care neither for my goods nor for the world, but only for God’s service and my conscience. I know not what to say; but if there is peril in going and peril in staying, I must choose the lesser of two evils. What gives me most pain is the thought of leaving my household, which, though small, is composed of good Christians, who may, in my absence, become lost sheep, and even follow these new opinions …’

… Soon after six in the evening my brother returned with the aforesaid Henry, who brought me a horse to carry me to my Lady, saying that he would lead me by a secret way. This he did without anyone seeing me who could possibly recognise me. I was met by the Controller and had a long talk with him while my Lady made ready to receive me … While we were talking we were summoned to my Lady’s presence … [I said ] that I had written in bad Latin to her Controller. ‘I have your letter here,’ she said, and also the one you wrote before; but I am as yet ill prepared, and it seems that you wish it to be for to-night’ I replied ‘Any time your Majesty
**
pleases; but I have spoken and written to your controller the reasons for which prolonged delay appears to me dangerous’. She then mentioned the preparations she had made, packing up some of her property in great long hopsacks, which would not look as if they contained anything heavy. I made so bold as to say that once she had crossed the water she should lack nothing, and that her effects did not matter so much, for the great thing was to conduct her person in safety, which was the point upon which she must now make up her mind … She then spoke with her Controller and also called in her principal woman of the bed chamber, who was keeping the door. They all three then appeared to come to a decision, and my lady turned tome, saying that she would not be ready until the day after next, Friday; but that she could then leave her house at four in the morning … While we were consulting as to how the affair might best be managed for Friday, and how we might let M. d’Eecke know so that he might retire for a day or two, there came a knock at the door … [news had arrived] ‘Some men from the village have been to see the ship, but were not allowed to go on board. Therefore they intend to send expressly on behalf of the village by the next tide to ask the ship its business, holding you and your men in the meantime to examine you here.’ In fact [the Controller] represented the matter as so serious that we might expect to see the beacon fires, that are wont to be lit on the approach of enemies, blazing along the coast by the following evening. He added that he was thankful he had not stayed to dinner, for it would have proved the destruction of his friend Schurtz.
‡‡
We were greatly troubled by these tidings, and knew not what to do or say … Meanwhile my Lady said ‘What shall we do? What is to become of me?’ … So finally we decided, my lady still repeating ‘but what is to become of me?’ that within ten or twelve days the Controller should send me one of his servants, called Baker … and would write the exact day when they could be ready to put the plan into execution …