Tudor Marriage: Scandal - Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor

Henry VIII was not the only one to make up his own rules when it came to marriage. His sister, Mary, infuriated him when she demonstrated that she, too, would wed where she found love and desire rather than where she was told her duty lie.

Like many princesses before her, Mary Tudor was pledged to marry for the purposes of international relations and treaty arrangements. She was eighteen to her husband’s fifty-two, but that mattered little in these types of arrangements. Her brief marriage to Louis XII left her with the title “The French Queen” for as long as she lived, though she was married to her second husband for much more of her life.

King Henry’s closest friend was Charles Brandon. The two had grown up together after Brandon’s father died defending Henry’s at the Battle of Bosworth where the Tudor dynasty was born. They habitually enjoyed the same sports and activities and were known to joust in matching armor. Despite this close connection, Brandon could not have anticipated the wrath of his king when he dared to marry Henry’s sister.

Mary Tudor and Charles Brandon

Brandon was no stranger to marriage scandal, though Henry had not created any of his own at that time. Seven years older than his king, Brandon had revealed his ambitions and willingness to use and dispose of women in his treatment of his first wife, Anne Browne. Attempting to annul their marriage and marry the girl’s affluent aunt, Brandon was forced to accept Anne after she birthed him a daughter and people refused to accept the so-called annulment. However, Anne died in 1512, and Brandon betrothed himself to his eight-year-old ward, Elizabeth Grey.

While he waited for her to be old enough for marriage, Brandon flirted with other women and marriage plans, including an embarrassing incident with Margaret of the Netherlands. She would not think of accepting the upstart’s hand, but things were still looking up for Brandon. In 1514, he was given the illustrious title of Duke of Suffolk, and the king’s beautiful younger sister was in love with him.

Henry knew of the feelings that his sister and best friend had for one another, but he trusted both to respect and honor his command that they marry elsewhere. Initially, Mary did. She made the best of her betrothal to the aged King of France, despite her own wishes, but the marriage lasted less than three months. Brandon was sent to retrieve Mary from France when her elderly husband died, supposedly from too much physical activity in bed with his frisky teenage bride. One might wonder if Henry was purposefully testing his friend and sister, putting them in this position. If he was, they failed the test. When they next presented themselves to Henry, it was as man and wife after a private ceremony in France.

Already contemplating where Mary could next be wed to give Henry the greatest advantage, he was furious to see her wasted on Brandon, regardless of how much he treasured the friendship. The new French king, Francios, had also suggested new matches to Mary after her enforced seclusion of forty days to ensure that she was not with child by the late king. However, she was able to gain the French king’s sympathy and support for her marriage to Brandon and hoped that she would be able to do the same with her brother. Mary reminded Henry that he had promised that she could choose her next husband if she went along with the French match, but, of course, Henry had only said that to make her submissive. He had never expected her to act upon it, and so quickly!

The couple was sent away from court and fined heavily, but Henry eventually relented. The marriage between Mary Tudor and Charles Brandon would provide the fuel for future Tudor scandals. Their daughter, Frances, would become the mother of England’s “nine day queen” Lady Jane Grey. Her sisters did not fare much better.

All of that was far in the future though, in 1515, when the spirited Tudor princess got to marry the man she loved. Some members of the king’s council, who already thought that Brandon wielded too much power over the king, lobbied for Brandon’s execution since marrying the princess without royal consent amounted to treason. However, as angry as Henry was, he loved Charles and Mary and eventually forgave them.

It was not until a decade later when Henry pursued an annulment of his marriage to Katherine of Aragon that his relationship with his sister soured. Mary did not support her brother’s setting aside of his formerly beloved wife. This may be in part due to her deep dislike of Anne Boleyn, the woman queued up as the queen’s replacement. Even then, Henry did not punish Mary the way he did others. Even those close to him, such as Thomas Moore, paid the ultimate price for disagreeing with the king. From his sister, Henry tolerated what he would not from any other quarter. While Henry pursued divorce from Katherine and a new marriage to Anne, Mary had little to say about it. Her own health was failing, and she kept to her private estates.

Mary did not survive to witness the full drama of her brother’s quest for a son. She could not have foreseen that it would be her own children eventually named in his will, second only to his own three children who each were born of a different mother. Besides Frances, who would become the couple’s most famous offspring, Mary bore two sons and another daughter for Charles. The boys, both named Henry, died young. Eleanor, went on to marry Henry Clifford. When Mary died in 1533, her husband married his fourteen-year-old ward, Catherine Willoughby, who was betrothed to his son, again proving that barriers to marriage meant little to Charles Brandon.


Don't miss the rest of the Tudor Marriage Blog Series!

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Additional Reading:

De Lisle, Leanda. Tudor: Passion. Manipulation. Murder. The Story of England’s Most Notorious Royal Family. New York: PublicAffairs, 2013.

Anne Boleyn's apology to Princess Mary

Anne Boleyn in the Tower
by Edouard Cibot

Anne Boleyn enjoys much popularity today, almost certainly more than she did while alive. From our modern, enlightened point-of-view, we like to make her out to be a proud, independent woman in a time when women were told to be submissive. The only woman often held up as a better example of 16th century feminism is her daughter, who became Queen Elizabeth I.

Although I do not admire neither Anne nor Elizabeth anywhere near as much as some, I can appreciate that both did make their mark on history. If I see them as a little more self-serving than bold, I hope their fervent fans will forgive me.

Clearly, Anne realized that she had indeed been wrong in her treatment of Henry VIII's eldest daughter, Mary. Anne caused Mary to lose the title of princess that she had held since birth, and Mary refused to recognize Anne as queen. It was a relationship doomed from the start, and neither desired to make any effort toward improving it. Both were known to wish for the death of the other.

However, when Anne's execution was approaching, she decided to apologize to Lady Mary. She had no reason to go out of her way to do so in her last hours, but she called for Lady Kingstone, wife of the Constable of the Tower, and asked her to relay her message of repentance. According to Martin Haile, Anne knelt before Lady Kingstone and requested that she, 'throw herself in like manner at the feet of Lady Mary, and beseech her to forgive the many wrongs which the pride of a thoughtless, unfortunate woman had brought upon her.'

Since she applied for permission to visit Lady Mary after Anne Boleyn's execution, it is believed that Lady Kingstone delivered the message. While Anne may have owed Mary that apology, one can easily argue that both women's problems were much more due to Henry VIII than each other. A bastardized daughter and insecure queen were unlikely to ever make amends before faced with their own mortality.

4 August 2022 NOTE: Because of continuous comments on this post that do not add to civil discourse, I am shutting off commenting for this post. Please, still feel free to use my contact form or join in other discussions on this blog! I apologize to those many dear readers who are not part of the problem. Thank you for your understanding. ~ Samantha

The Spanish Rescue or When Mary Had Her Chance to Flee

An excerpt from Queen of Martyrs: The Story of Mary I

June 1550

Mary had not quickly recovered from her disappointment at the hands of her brother. Since returning to Woodham Walter, Mary had contrived plans and written to Charles, begging for his assistance in her escape.

Now, the time had come. The Holy Roman Emperor had acquiesced to her wishes, and a small fleet would soon arrive, their mission to whisk Mary away. She would live out her days at Charles’ court, though she despaired at leaving Edward to his fate if he carried on his heretical ways. Still, when she remembered her mother’s impoverished, lonely death, Mary assured herself that she was doing what she must.

Whispers had crept through the district that Mary was plotting to leave the kingdom. It was impossible with a household the size of hers to prepare for such a feat without some rumors spreading, but no one from the king had arrived. If news had reached Edward, he had not taken it seriously.

Mary paced the corridors of her estate. There were more productive tasks that she could be attending to, but she could bring her mind to focus on none of them. Instead, she found herself memorizing the precise color of the region’s bricks and the smell of honeysuckle, for she was afraid that she would forget these small details of her daily life that would not exist in her new world.

Pain was her constant companion since leaving her brother. The headaches had been like nothing she had experienced before, even when she lost her mother. She had grown pitifully thin, because most food nauseated her. Mary would not trouble herself or others over this though. Soon, she would be relaxing in the Low Countries, at peace and snacking on fresh oranges.

The idyllic image brought a smile to her face. She deserved some peace in her life. If her brother was as independent and astute as he claimed, she need not feel that she was abandoning him.

She was not sure how many circuits of the corridors she had completed when Rochester found her. Before he uttered a word, she could see that the news had arrived and her deliverance was at hand.

“Ships have been spotted,” he whispered. His handsome brow was creased with worry, and Mary felt some guilt for the stress that she put him through.

“You have served me more loyally than any other,” Mary said. She had the urge to put a hand to his face to soothe the tension in his rigid expression, but it would not have been proper. Her words served to soften his clenched jaw a bit, and that would have to suffice.

“I would be willing to suffer death for my faith if that was what I felt God was calling me to do,” she added, though she owed him no explanation. “England is no longer a place for me.”

Rochester nodded with his lips pressed into a thin line to hold back any disagreement he might have given voice to. He had agreed to go with her, for as much as he was uncertain of the plan he would leave no one else responsible for Mary’s safety.

“Let us then be about our business,” he said. There was no reason for him to say more. The plot had been discussed at length. Four ladies had been chosen to accompany the princess, but they would carry little with them. Disguised as commoners, they would leave Woodham by boat and meet the Spanish ships. It was deceivingly simple.

Mary spun, her skirts stirring the rushes, and fled to her room. As soon as she entered, she dismissed all except the four she trusted to travel with her.

“Fran, our clothes,” she ordered, sending the woman scurrying without further instructions needed. “Susan, the jewelry.”

They could not carry anything of great size or weight, so Mary’s precious jewelry would be distributed among them. Besides the largess of Charles V, it is all they would have to live upon.

A few other frantic whispers sent the ladies to their preassigned tasks, and they were ready in less than an hour to depart. Part of Mary was thrilled by the adventure, but her guts were twisted with anxiety and uncertainty that she could not alleviate.

Rochester arrived to lead them to the water’s edge. He was confronted by five pale faces with wide eyes following him from under dark wool hoods. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mary said with much more confidence than she felt. “God be with us.”

“Amen,” the four other women murmured as they left the room in a somber single file line.

Mary was thankful that her head had cleared as she followed Rochester’s broad form, yet she was still plagued by a growing sense that something was wrong. The small party left the manor for the canopy of stars and darkness of night, and their path was clear. No one on watch noticed them to inquire who they were or what their business was. Through the summer foliage, they made their way to the pier that stretched out into the river.

The boat that was usually utilized for trips to the port town of Maldon was bobbing upon the low waves. Besides the fact that they were leaving in the dead of night, there would be no reason to suspect this boat when it took their intended course. Once they reached Maldon, their success was assured by the presence of Charles’ warships.

Rochester stood at the side of the boat, ready to hand the women across the span between the dock and the vessel. He had not spoken the words, but his countenance told Mary that he retained doubts. She stiffened her spine and told herself to stop second-guessing.

In a moment, she was on the boat, her ladies huddled tightly around her more to soothe their fear than to ward off chill. Mary realized that the summer night was mild and pleasant. It seemed odd that it had taken her so long to notice.

The boat was rowed by Rochester and a younger man he had chosen to assist him. No one spoke as they made their way up the dark river. Mary marveled that the water’s vivid turquoise of day was replaced by an oily black at night. The murky river was more eerily threatening than the same calming scene in the warm summer sunshine.

In that darkness, Mary’s imagination conjured up images of a gloomy hell that remained in shadow despite the inferno of flames. Souls in agony twisted and screamed in eternal pain that nothing could soothe. Mary closed her eyes in vain as the images continued to dance upon the back of her eyelids. Her brother’s face appeared upon one of the wraithlike figures being tortured by the demons, and his eyes bored into her accusingly.

You have left me to this fate, his face seemed to say. Mary’s eyes flashed open, and the vision disappeared. It was replaced once again by the disapproving countenance of Rochester and her terrified ladies. She searched the dark water for answers as their boat silently cut through its surface.

That darkness would not only swallow up her brother and his evil advisors. Mary started counting the little waves, pretending that they were Englishmen who followed her brother’s heresies to their doom. Squeezing her eyes shut, her face crumpled in mental anguish.

“I cannot do it,” she announced.

When no one responded, Mary wondered if she had not spoken the words aloud. She forced her eyes open, and found that her ladies were looking to her in confusion. Then her gaze met Rochester’s and found understanding. He had stopped rowing, and now gave a signal to the young man to halt as well.

“I cannot leave my people to this future,” Mary repeated more confidently. “Whatever I can do, I must, though it may cost my very life.”

Rochester nodded his approval as the women embraced Mary with happy exclamations and the boat was turned around. Mary wondered how upset Charles would be that she had changed her mind at the last moment, with his ships there waiting to receive her, but she found that she did not care. A great peace had enveloped her when she made her decision, and she knew that God had plans for her yet in the kingdom of England.

Read more of Mary's story in Queen of Martyrs, available in paperback, Kindle, and audiobook!

Free with Kindle Unlimited.

Mary Takes A Stand

Princess Mary Tudor

By summertime of 1533, the Lady Mary, or Princess Mary as she continued to style herself, had endured much during the course of her short life. She was seventeen, an age when most of her peers were either married or planning an advantageous match. However, Mary's uncertain status left her in an awkward limbo. She was the daughter of the king, but no longer his heir. Betrothals for her had been made and broken, but Henry VIII seemed in no hurry to give legitimacy to his daughter's position by finding her a high-born spouse.

Mary's mother was locked away to clear the path for her father's new wife, Anne Boleyn, who was pregnant with the child that Henry prayed would be his long-awaited son. These were anxious days for Mary, knowing that a son would certainly take her place - in the succession and in her father's heart. Still, Mary decided to take a stand against her father, much as her mother had before her.

Henry may have felt that he was making an inconsequential request when he ordered Lord Hussey, Mary's chamberlain, to send Mary's royal jewels. Mary had been given no choice in accepting her father's new marriage, but here she found a small way to stand up for herself. With the support of her steadfast governess, Margaret Pole Countess of Salisbury, Mary refused to turn over her jewelry. Margaret informed Hussey that it 'cannot conveniently be spared.'

King Henry VIII

As Henry received reports of his daughter's stubbornness and pride, Mary's household moved to Beaulieu. This is where she would receive the news that she had a new half-sister. Mary must have wondered what this would mean for her. From her point of view, even a boy would have been an illegitimate brother, like the Duke of Richmond, but, surely, another girl could not displace her the way a boy would have. But Henry's wrath at Mary's disobedience and his own disappointment would ensure that any relief Mary experienced was short-lived.

As strongly as Mary felt that her mother was the king's only true wife and she his only true heir, Henry and Anne were just as staunchly certain of their union. Unfortunately for Mary, Henry was the one in charge. Shortly following Elizabeth's birth on September 7, 1533, Henry revoked Mary's right to her household livery, her coat of arms, along with the title of princess. Her household was reduced, though the loyal Countess of Salisbury remained at her side. Overstepping her bounds more than she knew, Mary wrote to her father, incredulously stating that she had received a letter referring to her as "'the Lady Mary, the king's daughter', leaving out the name of princess. I marvelled at this, thinking your grace was not privy to it."

He was. And he did not appreciate the impudence of his eldest daughter.

Henry took a step that could leave no doubt of Mary's status in his eyes. He demanded that she acknowledge her illegitimacy and admit that his marriage to her mother had been invalid. Mary replied that her father might give her any title that he liked, but she was rightly called princess. It was a title only God could take from her. If Mary hoped to somehow stir her father's love or pity for her, she had misplayed her hand.

Margaret Pole Countess of Salisbury

Henry dissolved Mary's household, ordering her to serve within the household of her sister, pointedly referred to as Princess Elizabeth. A place within the household of a royal sister is not a poor position if one has been raised under the shadow of illegitimacy, but Mary had been raised to expect more. Much more.

The Countess of Salisbury begged to be allowed to serve Mary, offering to cover her household expenses from her own budget, but Henry refused. This was not about his pocketbook, it was about putting these women in their place. He knew that Margaret was a close friend of his first wife and that she had stirred up this brazen defiance in his daughter. Both women would be left wondering if they had made the right choice. Would it have been better to hand over the jewels and concede to being called Lady Mary?

Hindsight did not benefit Mary as she was bundled away to join her sister's household at Hatfield House just before Christmas 1533. The battle lines were drawn between Mary and her father, but she would eventually have her victory.



Additional Reading:
The First Queen of England by Linda Porter
Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury 1473-1541 by Hazel Pierce

Not-so-Illustrious Marriages of the Pole Children

Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury
Coat of Arms

When Richard Pole died in 1504, Margaret was left with five small children. The youngest, Geoffrey, may have never even met his father. Many a woman in her position would have lost little time looking for their own next spouse to assist with this large brood and provide a comfortable income. Margaret was thirty-one and possessed a wealth of royal blood if not actual riches.

Choosing the road less traveled, Margaret Pole devoted herself to raising her children and arranging advantageous matches for them, rather than one for herself. Each of these marriages appeared to be wonderful choices at their outset. Margaret may not have been interested in challenging her cousin for the throne, but she would have her children recognized with the noble titles and status that she felt they deserved.

Margaret's oldest child and the one who would find the most success within Henry VIII's court was Henry. He became Lord Montague and enjoyed favor from the king despite the increasing suspicion directed at those with old Yorkist blood. Married to Jane Neville, daughter of Baron Bergavenny, he was expected to inherit wealth through her that his mother could not provide. Bergavenny did not have a son and his wife had died, leaving Jane an heiress. This was the understanding at least until the wily Duke of Buckingham, Edward Staffford, convinced the old widower to marry his daughter, Mary. Once Mary gave birth to a son, Jane's hopes of inheritance disappeared.

The marriage of Mary Stafford and George Neville also created a (not-so-uncommon at that time) dual family link. Edward Stafford's oldest son, Henry Stafford, was married to Margaret Pole's only daughter, Ursula. Therefore, Edward Stafford's own wealth would one day enrich one Pole child, while his daughter stole that of the other. At least that was his plan.

Ursula Pole

Edward Stafford was very proud of his ancestry. He traced his family tree back to Edward III, and his Woodville mother had been the queen's sister. Proud and arrogant, Buckingham was not afraid to point out that his own bloodline was more impressive than Henry Tudor's. When it appeared that the king may die without fathering a son, Stafford was too quick to put his own name forward as the obvious one to follow him.

When Buckingham was executed for treason in May 1521, his son's future, along with that of Ursula Pole, was much diminished. The dukedom was forfeited to the crown, and Henry Stafford would never enjoy the same status his forefathers had. Much later, in 1547, he would be raised to be Baron Stafford, but this fell far short of the future that Margaret thought she had secured for her dear Ursula.

Arthur, Margaret's second son, was wed to a well-off widow, Jane Lewkenor (Pickering). When Arthur died young and left behind small children, Margaret attempted to secure the inheritance for her grandchildren by having Jane enter a convent. The scheme was unsuccessful, however, and Jane rescinded her vows in order to remarry.

Margaret's youngest child, Geoffrey, was also married to an heiress of a rich man without sons. Constance Pakenham was the long suffering wife of the Pole child who would assist the king in bringing down his entire family. Weak and irresponsible, Geoffrey gave testimony that led to the execution of several of his extended family members. Geoffrey was spared but attempted suicide at least twice. When he died during the reign of Queen Mary, he left Constance with little besides the many children he had fathered.

Cardinal Reginald Pole

Though he never married, a discussion of Margaret's children is not complete without mentioning the best known of her offspring. Reginald Pole lived his life dedicated to the church, though the marriage mentioned for him several times over the years was one that would have made him king. His mother and her good friend, Katherine of Aragon, believed the match between their children would further unite the houses of York and Tudor. Long after both women were dead, the marriage of Princess Mary and (by that time) Cardinal Pole was considered after Henry VIII's death and again upon her own rise to the throne. Instead, Mary chose to marry another cousin, Philip of Spain, and made Reginald her Archbishop of Canterbury. In 1550, Reginald fell one vote short of becoming Pope, but he proudly served the Catholic restoration England for the rest of his life instead. Reginald and Mary died on the same day, November 17, 1558.