Mary Tudor (57 page)

Just four years before, Mary had described herself as the Holy See’s “most obedient and affectionate” daughter; his Holiness had no more loving daughter than herself. Now, as the last months of her life drew near, her relations with the pope became significantly strained.
¹⁷
It was a great irony that upon Mary’s death, the pope would initially express gratification upon the accession of Elizabeth as an improvement on her sister.
¹⁸

I
N 1557, GIOVANNI MICHIELI, THE VENETIAN AMBASSADOR, LEFT
England. In his final report, the
relacione
, he gave a detailed account of the character and concerns of the then-forty-one-year-old queen.

Above all, he praised Mary’s devotion and piety. “Besides her noble descent,” he wrote, she was “a very great and rare example of virtue and magnanimity, a real portrait of patience and humility, and of the true fear of God.” Indeed, few women in the world were known to be more “assiduous at their prayers than she is,” always keeping to the canonical hours and observing Communions and fast days. She had lived a life “little short of martyrdom, by reason of the persecution she endured.”

In her youth, he reflected, Mary “was considered not merely tolerably handsome, but of beauty exceeding mediocrity.” However, the queen’s aspect was now “very grave,” with “wrinkles, caused more by anxieties than by age, which make her appear some years older.” Though “like other women,” she could be “sudden and passionate, and close and miserly,” she maintained a “wonderful grandeur and dignity.”

Despite being “valiant” and “brave,” Mary was prone to “deep melancholy”—a product, Michieli surmised, of “monstrous retention” and “suffocation of the matrix [womb],” a disease thought to be caused by the retention of menstrual fluids and a condition from which she had suffered for many years. But “the remedy of tears and weeping, to which from childhood she has been accustomed, and still often used by her” was no longer sufficient and now she required to be “blooded either from the foot or elsewhere, which keeps her always pale and emaciated.”

Principal among Mary’s distresses were those that arose from her love for Philip and her resentment of her sister, Elizabeth. Philip’s constant traveling left Mary bereft, “not only of that company, for the sake of which (besides the hope of lineage) marriages are formed,” but the separation “which to any person who loves another heartily, would be irksome and grievous” is felt particularly by a woman so “naturally tender.” Her “fear and violent love” for Philip left her constantly in a state of anxiety. If to this were added jealousy, the ambassador continued, “she would be truly miserable,” as to be parted from the king was one of the “anxieties that especially distresses her.”

Added to this was her “evil disposition,” as Michieli described it, “towards her sister Elizabeth”; although the queen pretended otherwise, “it cannot be denied the scorn and ill will she bears her.” When faced with Elizabeth, “it was as if she were in the presence of the affronts and ignominious treatment to which she was subjected to on account of her mother,” Anne Boleyn. Worse still, Mary saw “the eyes and hearts” of the nation already fixed on Elizabeth as her successor, given Mary’s lack of an heir. Much to Mary’s dismay, she perceived that no one believed “in the possibility of her having progeny,” so that “day by day” she saw her authority and the respect induced by it diminish. Besides this, “the Queen’s hatred is increased by knowing her to be averse to the present religion … for although externally she showed, and by living Catholically shows, that she has recanted, she is nevertheless supposed to dissemble and to hold to it more than ever internally.”

Mary had, the Venetian reflected, become a queen of regrets. She had been “greatly grieved” by many insurrections, conspiracies, and plots that continually formed against her at home and abroad, and she mourned the decline of the “affection” universally evinced toward her at the beginning of her reign, which had been “so extraordinary that never was greater shown in that kingdom towards any sovereign.” The country was, Michieli said, “showing a greater inclination and readiness for change” than ever before. The “fruitlessness” of Mary’s marriage was a source of profound regret, and the lack of an heir threatened the restoration of Catholicism and the obedience of the English Church to Rome, which was now sustained by her “authority and presence.” But, Michieli added, “nor is it to be told how much hurt that vain pregnancy did her.”

If the queen predeceased Philip, he would be deprived of the kingdom; but more important was the fear that the king’s “enemies” would seek to occupy England “or cause the realm to fall into their hands.” Michieli ended his
relatione
with a list of possible claimants for the English throne: first, Elizabeth, whose right was based on the will of Henry VIII and the Act of Succession; then Mary, queen of Scots, who claimed an absolute hereditary right; and the two sisters of the late Lady Jane Grey, who claimed precedence over Elizabeth on account of the will of Edward VI. Yet, as Michieli concluded, even if Mary were to be “undeceived,” which “as yet she is not,” about the possibility of having children, she wished to avoid naming a successor and “will rather leave it to time to act, referring the matter after her death to those whom it concerns either by right or by force.”
¹

W
ITHIN SIX MONTHS OF MICHIELI’S
RELAZIONE
, MARY AGAIN
believed she was pregnant. This time she waited until her sixth month and then in January 1558 sent word to Philip.
¹
“The news of the Queen, my beloved wife,” Philip wrote to Pole, “has given me greater joy than I can express to you, as it is the one thing in the world I have most desired and which is of the greatest importance for the cause of religion and the care and welfare of our realm.” It has “gone far to lighten the sorrow I have felt for the loss of Calais.”
²

Weeks later, Don Gómez Suárez de Figueroa, count of Feria, was sent to England. He was to express Philip’s delight at the news of his wife’s impending labor but also to try to discover if it might be true. Many believed it was not, and this time no preparations were made for her confinement. Upon arriving in England, Feria quickly came to the conclusion that Mary was only “making herself believe that she is with child, although she does not own up to it.”
³

Yet Mary remained convinced, and on March 30, as she approached what she believed to be the ninth month of her pregnancy, she made her will:

In the event of her death, the crown would be left to “the heirs, issue and fruit” of her body, while Philip, her “most dear and entirely beloved husband,” would be appointed guardian and regent for the prince or princess.

BY MAY, MARY’S HEALTH
had deteriorated: she suffered from intermittent fevers, insomnia, headaches, and loss of vision. It was clear that there was no pregnancy. Writing to Philip, Feria described how “she sleeps badly, is weak and suffers from melancholy; and her indisposition results in business being handled more slowly than need be.”
⁴

Over the summer Mary grew progressively weaker. In August, she caught influenza, then endemic in the country, and was moved from Hampton Court to St. James’s Palace. Forced to acknowledge the seriousness of her condition, she added a codicil to her will: “feeling myself presently sick and weak in body,” she admitted that it was unlikely she was with child. “Forasmuch as God hath hitherto sent me no fruit nor heir of my body, it is only in his most divine providence whether I shall have any or no.” If God did not grant her an heir, she would be “succeeded by my next heir and successor by the Laws and Statutes of this realm.”
⁵
She stopped short of acknowledging Elizabeth by name but exhorted Philip to protect and care for England “as a father in his care, as a brother in his love and favour … and a most assured and undoubted friend to her country and subjects.”

On October 29, Antonio Surian, the Venetian ambassador, who was with Philip, wrote to the doge and Senate:

By the terms of the marriage treaty, Philip’s prerogatives in England would cease with Mary’s death. In April, the marriage between Mary, queen of Scots, and the French dauphin, the future Francis II, had finally taken place. If Mary Stuart’s claim to the English throne could be secured, France’s position would be strengthened immeasurably and tip the balance in the Habsburg-Valois struggle. Even if Elizabeth succeeded, Philip feared that her Protestant sympathies would lead to a diplomatic realignment that would leave Spain isolated.

Feria was instructed to visit Elizabeth on the king’s behalf, present his compliments, express Philip’s hope that the amity would continue between Spain and the Tudor dominions, and ingratiate himself with the men around her. Elizabeth responded favorably, declaring that she would always be grateful to Philip because “when she was in prison [the king] had shown her favour and helped to obtain her release,” but dismissed the suggestion that she might marry the duke of Savoy.
⁷
Meanwhile, Feria was “to try and dispose the Queen to consent to Lady Elizabeth being married as her sister, and with the hope of succeeding to the crown.”
⁸

The first few days of November saw some alleviation in the queen’s condition, and as Parliament met, the Council petitioned her to make “certain declarations in favour of the Lady Elizabeth concerning the succession.” On November 6, Mary bowed to the inevitable: she “consented” and accepted Elizabeth as her heir. It was what she had fought to avoid most of her life, but now, realizing that death was near, she had no choice. Sir Thomas Cornwallis, the comptroller of the royal household, and John Boxall, secretary to the Privy Council, were sent to Hatfield to give Elizabeth the news. Mary asked that Elizabeth pay her debts and keep the Catholic religion as it had been established.
⁹
She knew it was a futile plea.