PHILIP AND MARY.
_July_ 1554-_August_ 1555.
Philip had married as his first wife the daughter of John III., King
of Portugal, who had died in 1552, having given birth to a son, the
unfortunate and notorious Don Carlos. Charles V. then entered into
negotiations for a union between his son and the King of Portugal’s
sister, whose dowry amounted to more than a million gold ducats. But
unwilling that so large a sum should pass out of the country, King
John was in no hurry to bring matters to a conclusion, and while he
haggled over the terms of the marriage treaty, the death of Edward VI.
opened out a new political vista. The Emperor seeing the possibility
of a geographical combination, that would materially help him to
overthrow his old enemy France, wrote to Philip, telling him to suspend
the negotiations with Portugal if they were not already concluded.
A matrimonial alliance with England would, he conceived, equal in
importance that of the Dauphin with the young Scottish Queen, Mary
Stuart. Philip, perfectly docile, agreed to his father’s scheme,[445]
and thus the fuse was set to the train laid by de Noailles, resulting
in the conflagration described in the last chapter. But Mary’s firmness
and courage, and the enthusiasm with which she had inspired her army,
quickly extinguished the flames of revolution, and notwithstanding the
dissensions in her Council, a far too numerous and unwieldy body, her
government was stronger than before Wyatt’s rebellion. De Noailles
had gained nothing by his treachery, except the questionable glory
of having successfully worked upon the worst passions of the rabble.
Painfully conscious that he had little cause for self-congratulation,
and anxious to know how far the Queen was informed of his secret
practices, and what were her feelings towards France, he demanded
an audience in the middle of June, when the court was on the eve of
removing to Windsor. Mary received him coldly, and when he complained,
that although his master desired to continue the peace, her ministers
appeared to be otherwise disposed, she told him roundly that neither
the King of France nor his advisers had displayed much inclination
towards peace in the past, and that not for all the kingdoms in the
world would her conscience have permitted her to play such a part as
he, de Noailles, had played. This outspokenness on the part of the
Queen so disconcerted the ambassador, that he begged Henry to send
him a safe-conduct and his recall.[446] Nevertheless, he was obliged
to remain where he was, and he continued to be the most mischievous
person in England. In giving an account of this audience to his master,
de Noailles expressed the opinion that Philip had “something in hand
against France”. But in this he was mistaken. Philip had no independent
policy apart from the Emperor’s. Whatever his defects of mind and
character, he was a perfect son, and while his father lived, Philip
lived but to obey his behests. The chief of these now was, that he
should marry Mary, and seek to conciliate the English.
Michiel, the Venetian ambassador, who had seen the Prince in Italy,
describes him as the image of the Emperor, even to his hanging
under-lip, the distinguishing feature of the Hapsburgs. He was
not quite so tall (and Charles V. was but of medium height), but
well-proportioned and agile, as had often been proved in tournaments,
on foot and on horseback, armed and unarmed.[447] He is elsewhere
described as short but slender, with a fine broad brow, large blue
eyes, dense, fair eyebrows, very close together, a nose well formed,
a large mouth, with a thick and pendent under-lip, which rather
spoiled his appearance. His skin was white, and his hair flaxen, like
that of a Fleming, but here the resemblance to his northern ancestors
ceased, his tastes and manners being essentially Spanish. Even in his
early manhood, he was inclined to be thoughtful and laborious. It was
observed that he listened attentively to all that was said to him, but
spoke little, and that little cautiously, with his eyes bent on the
ground. If he raised them, it was to allow them to wander hither and
thither. His answers were prompt, short and to the purpose, but he was
careful never to compromise himself in any way.[448] At the end of his
first visit to Flanders, the Emperor, who idolised him, took him to
task for his cold and haughty bearing. Philip learned the lesson so
well, that on his second visit, it was remarked that his manner was
more affable, recalling that of his father, and retaining no trace
of the disdain which had before caused him to be so much disliked in
the Low Countries. He differed from the Emperor, inasmuch as Charles
delighted in warfare, and military exercises, whereas Philip cared
nothing for them, and understood them but little. He was fond of study,
and especially of the study of history; he knew the exact position of
every important place on the map, was a good mathematician, and had
some notions of sculpture and of painting, which arts he sometimes
practised. His own language he spoke with elegance, knew Latin well
enough for a prince, understood and wrote Italian, and some French,
and possessed an excellent memory. He was slow in his movements, both
naturally and from his having schooled himself in extreme deliberation,
a characteristic often illustrated by remarks which he was in the habit
of writing on the margin of official documents, and in letters to
his friends and servants. One such expression, written to an Italian
diplomat, “_bisogna caminare coi piedi di piombo_,” is an epitome of
his manner of conducting business. He was careful to surround even
the smallest affair with an atmosphere of dignity, a custom that
may partly account for his dilatoriness. As he was habitually grave
and distant, his courtesy was the more appreciated when he forced
himself to unbend. In his opinion, no nation on earth equalled the
Spanish nation, and he admitted none but Spaniards into his counsels
and intimacy. His piety was considered remarkable, because he heard
Mass daily, and approached the sacraments at least four times a year.
Capable as he was of prolonged and careful attention to the minutest
details of business, he was naturally fond of repose and solitude,
especially in summer, when he made a point of seldom granting audiences
on affairs of state. So great was his power of self-control, that even
in taking vengeance, he would sometimes wait for years for an opportune
moment, when he would strike without passion and without pity.[449] His
morals were neither better nor worse than those of the majority of his
contemporaries.
Such was Philip in his twenty-seventh year, at the time of his second
marriage.
Sorranzo’s description of Mary, at the age of thirty-eight, is
important, as coming from the pen of a none too friendly critic. In
the Venetian ambassador’s description of England in 1554 occurs the
following paragraph:—
“The most serene Madam Mary is entitled Queen of England and of
France, and Defendress of the Faith. She was born on the 18 February
1515 [1516], so she yesterday completed her thirty-eighth year, and
six months. She is of low stature with a red and white complexion,
and very thin. Her eyes are white [light?] and large, and her hair
reddish; her face is round, with a nose rather low and wide, and were
not her age on the decline, she might be called handsome rather than
the contrary. She is not of a strong constitution, and of late she
suffers from headache, and serious affection of the heart, so that
she is often obliged to take medicine, and also to be blooded. She is
of very spare diet, and never eats till one or two p.m., although she
rises at daybreak, when after saying her prayers, and hearing Mass in
private, she transacts business incessantly until after midnight,
when she retires to rest; for she chooses to give audience not only
to all the members of her Privy Council, and to hear from them every
detail of public business, but also to all other persons who ask it of
her. Her Majesty’s countenance indicates great benignity and clemency,
which are not belied by her conduct, for although she has had many
enemies, and though so many of them were by law condemned to death,
yet had the executions depended solely on her Majesty’s will, not one
of them perhaps would have been enforced; but deferring to her Council
in everything, she in this matter likewise complied with the wishes
of others, rather than with her own. She is endowed with excellent
ability, and more than moderately read in Latin literature, especially
with regard to Holy Writ; and besides her native tongue, she speaks
Latin, French and Spanish, and understands Italian perfectly, but
does not speak it. She is also very generous, but not to the extent
of letting it appear that she rests her chief claim to commendation
on this quality. She is so confirmed in the Catholic religion, that
although the King her brother, and his Council, prohibited her from
having the Mass celebrated according to the Roman Catholic ritual, she
nevertheless had it performed in secret, nor did she ever choose by
any act to assent to any other form of religion, her belief in that in
which she was born being so strong, that had the opportunity offered,
she would have displayed it at the stake, her hope being in God alone,
so that she constantly exclaims, ‘_In te Domine confido, non confundar
in eternam! Si Deus est pro nobis, quis contra nos?_’ Her Majesty
takes pleasure in playing on the lute and spinet, and is a very good
performer on both instruments, and indeed before her accession, she
taught many of her maids of honour. But she seems to delight above all
in arraying herself elegantly and magnificently, and her garments are
of two sorts; the one a gown such as men wear, but fitting very close,
with an under petticoat which has a very long train; and this is her
ordinary costume, being also that of the gentlewomen of England. The
other garment is a gown and boddice with wide hanging sleeves in the
French fashion, which she wears on State occasions, and she also wears
much embroidery, and gowns and mantles of cloth of gold, and cloth of
silver of great value, and changes every day. She also makes great use
of jewels, wearing them both on her chaperon, and round her neck, and
as trimming for her gowns, in which jewels she delights greatly, and
although she has a great plenty of them left her by her predecessors,
yet were she better supplied with money than she is, she would
doubtless buy more.”[450]
[Illustration: Philippe II.
From the original portrait by Adrian van der Werff.
_Marie eut dans mon cœur une part bien legere,
Ma seule ambition m’en fit faire le choix:
Ie n’en fus pas content, elle ne me sut plaire,
Le plus encore moins aux Anglois._]
Philip’s departure for England had been delayed at the last, on account
of the large quantity of bullion he was taking with him, amounting to
3,000,000 ducats, 300,000 of which were for his bride, 100,000 for the
merchants, and the rest for the Emperor. In charge of this money was
Sir Thomas Gresham, the celebrated founder of the Royal Exchange, who
had gone to Spain for the purpose of raising a loan. When that part of
the treasure which was destined for England was taken to the Tower, it
filled twenty carts containing fourscore and seventeen chests, a yard
and four inches long, and it was estimated that when coined it would
produce about £50,000 sterling.[451]
Both the Emperor and Renard had taken care to give the Prince good
advice as to his behaviour in England. They dreaded, lest by a
repetition of the contempt he had displayed in Flanders, he should
render the marriage still more unpopular than it already was. They
implored him to make at least a show of cordiality towards the nobles,
and to be affable and condescending to the people. He should force
himself to learn a few words of English, to salute them with, but at
the same time, it would not be amiss, said his mentors, if he wore a
coat of mail under his dress.[452]
On the 19th July, the Spanish fleet being anchored in Southampton Bay,
Philip sent the Prince of Gonzaga and Count Egmont to inform Mary of
his arrival and good health. The next morning, he was landed at
Southampton in the Queen’s yacht. As he stepped on shore, a royal
salute was fired, and the Earl of Arundel invested him with the Order
of the Garter,[453] which was at once put on and fastened by a herald.
A brilliant company had assembled at the landing-place, to receive and
do him honour. “God save your Grace,” was heard on all sides.
Philip presented a gallant enough appearance in his usual costume of
black, with the short Spanish cape worn over one shoulder, and on his
head a berretta with gold chains and a waving plume. Mary had sent him
an Andalusian genet richly caparisoned, and as the reins were handed to
him, Sir Anthony Browne[454] advanced, and made a speech in Latin, to
the effect that he had been appointed equerry to the Prince, and had
taken the oath to the imperial ambassador, and begged to be received
as his Highness’s most humble, faithful and loyal servant. Having
kissed the stirrup, he helped the Prince to mount.[455] As Philip rode
through the town, the spectators remarked with admiration, his graceful
horsemanship and smiling countenance, an indication that he had taken
Renard’s counsels to heart. His first visit was to the Church of the
Holy Rood, where he heard Mass, and returned thanks for his prosperous
voyage and safe arrival.
He was then conducted to the house that had been prepared for his
reception, during his stay at Southampton. Here his apartments were
hung with some famous Flemish arras of immense value, that had belonged
to Henry VIII. A chair of state in crimson velvet, embroidered with
gold and pearls, stood on a daïs, under a canopy in the principal room.
Before dismissing his escort, composed of nearly every member of the
Privy Council, he addressed them in a Latin speech, in which he said
he had come to live among them, not as a foreigner, but as a native
Englishman, and not from want of men or money, but God had called him
to marry their virtuous sovereign; and in thanking them for their
expressions of faith and loyalty, he promised that they should ever
find him a grateful, affable and loving Prince.
To the Spanish nobles in his suite, he said that he hoped, so long as
they remained in England, they would conform to the customs of the
country, and in this he would give them an example. As he finished
speaking, he raised to his lips a flagon of English ale, which he then
tasted for the first time, and drank farewell to the company.[456]
Perhaps he disliked it less than some of his followers; at all events
it was observed that he drank bravely, and without wincing.
As soon as the news of Philip’s arrival reached London, demonstrations
of joy were set on foot, forced upon the people, said de Noailles
maliciously, under pain of death.[457] But it did not appear that they
evinced any serious objection to being feasted and amused. Bells were
rung, salvos of artillery fired, and processions formed to all the
principal churches. Fireworks were displayed, and tables groaning with
viands were laid out in the streets, for every one to eat as much as he
pleased. Wine and ale flowed in abundance.
On the 21st, Mary with her whole court made her entry into Winchester,
where she was to receive the Prince and to be married to him.[458] She
took up her residence at the Bishop’s palace.
Philip, meanwhile, by his condescension had been making a favourable
impression. So anxious was he to ingratiate himself with the English,
that he gave offence to his own suite. Every time he went out, he was
escorted by Englishmen; Englishmen served him at table; he breakfasted
and dined in public, according to English custom, although he disliked
it extremely, and drank toasts valiantly in tankards of strong ale, in
the English fashion, encouraging the Spaniards to do the same.
On the 23rd, the Earl of Pembroke with 200 mounted gentlemen arrived
to conduct him to Winchester. With them were a company of English
archers, wearing the colours of Arragon, with tunics of yellow cloth
striped with crimson velvet, and with cordons of white and crimson
silk. Before Philip left Southampton the Spanish fleet that had
accompanied him was ordered to sail to Flanders immediately after the
marriage ceremony, not a man belonging to it being allowed to set foot
on English soil.[459]
The day of his departure was stormy, and it rained in torrents. He
mounted his horse early in the afternoon, but had not left Southampton
far behind, when a horseman came galloping to meet him, bringing a ring
from Mary, with the entreaty that he would not expose himself to the
inclemency of the weather, but would defer his arrival at Winchester
till the following day. Not at first understanding the message,
Philip thought that he was being warned of some danger, and stopped
to consult with Alva and Egmont; but when Mary’s solicitude had been
explained to him by an interpreter, he only wrapped his scarlet cloak
more closely round him, pulled down his broad beaver over his eyes,
and pressed gallantly forward, in spite of the elements. His company
was increased at every bend of the road, by the country gentlemen of
Hampshire, who turned out to form an escort; and by the time he arrived
at his destination, his suite numbered several thousands. Drenched with
rain, they were received at the gates of Winchester by the Mayor and
Aldermen, in their civic robes, who after presenting Philip with the
keys of the city, conducted him to the residence prepared for him in
the Dean’s house.[460]
John Elder’s letter, describing Philip’s reception at Winchester and
his marriage, takes up the story probably about an hour after his entry.
“Then the next Monday, which was the 24th July, his Highness came to
the city of Winchester, at 6 of the clock at night, the noblemen
of England, and his nobles riding, one with another before him, in
good order, through the city, every one placed according to his
vocation and office, he riding on a fair white horse, in a rich coat,
embroidered with gold, his doublet, hosen and hat suite-like, with a
white feather in his hat, very fair. And after he lighted, he came the
highway towards the west door of the cathedral church, where he was
most reverently received with procession, by my lord the Bishop of
Winchester, now lord chancellor of England, and five other bishops,
mitred, coped and staved, where also, after he had kneeled, kissed the
crucifix, and done his prayer, he ascended from thence five steps upon
a scaffold, which was made for the solemnization of his marriage; and
until he came to the choir door, the procession sang _Laus honor et
virtus_. And after he had entered the choir, and perceived the most
holy sacrament, he put off his cap, and went bare-headed, with great
humility, until he entered his seat or traverse as they call it, where
after he had kneeled, my lord Chancellor began _Te Deum laudamus_, and
the choir together with the organs sang and played the rest. Which
being done, he was brought with torch-light to the Dean’s house, the
lords going before him, and the Queen’s guard in their rich coats
standing all the way. Which house was very gorgeously prepared for
him, adjoining to my lord the Bishop of Winchester’s palace, where the
Queen’s Highness then lay, not passing a pair of but-length’s between.
This night, after he had supped, at 10 of the clock (as I am credibly
informed) he was brought by the counsel a privy way to the Queen, where
her grace very lovingly, yea and most joyfully received him. And after
they had talked together half an hour,[461] they kissed and departed. I
am credibly informed also that at his departing, he desired the Queen’s
Highness to teach him what he should say to the lords in English at his
departing; and she told him he should say ‘Good night, my lords all’.
And as he came by the lords, he said as the Queen had taught him.”[462]
The writer goes on to say, that the next day, being Tuesday, the
Prince made his first public and official visit to the Queen, at three
o’clock in the afternoon, conducted by the Earl of Derby, the Earl of
Pembroke and others, he walking alone behind them all, “in a cloak of
black cloth embroidered with silver, and a pair of white hose”. He
entered the courtyard of the bishop’s palace, to the sound of music
played by every kind of instrument, and passed into the great hall.
Here Mary received him, and kissed him in presence of all the people.
Taking him by the hand, she led him into the presence chamber, where
after conversing with her for a quarter of an hour, under the cloth
of estate, “to the great comfort and rejoicing of the beholders,”
Philip took his leave and went to Evensong at the Cathedral, returning
afterwards by torch-light to his lodging.
The following day, 25th July, Feast of St. James, the patron saint of
Spain, was fixed for the marriage. The Cathedral was entirely hung with
arras and cloth of gold. From the west entrance to the rood-screen,
separating the nave from the chancel, a platform had been erected for
the first part of the service. Under the rood-loft, on either side,
a canopied seat called a _traverse_, draped with cloth of gold, was
placed for the royal bride and bridegroom. Similar seats were also
placed for them within the choir, in front of the altar. At about
eleven o’clock, Philip, accompanied by his suite, and wearing a white
doublet and trunk hose, a mantle of cloth of gold, ornamented with
pearls and precious stones, which Mary had sent him, the collar of the
Golden Fleece, and the brilliant blue ribbon of the Garter, entered by
the western door, to the sound of trumpets, and proceeded to his place
under the rood-loft. After waiting for half an hour, he was joined by
the Queen, who wore a dress of white satin, scarlet shoes, and a mantle
of cloth of gold, studded and fringed with diamonds of great price.
Before her walked the Earl of Derby, bearing the sword of state.
Hundreds of spectators, from all parts of Christendom, attired with
great magnificence, crowded the church, and made the sight one of
dazzling splendour. When the bride and bridegroom reached their
respective _traverses_, says the chronicler, they were shriven,[463]
and afterwards stood up together by the rood, the Bishops of
Winchester, London, Durham, Chichester, Lincoln and Ely, preceded
by their croziers, having come from the choir to that place. But
before the ceremony began, Don Juan Figueroa, Regent of Naples, and a
member of the Emperor’s Council, handed to the English Chancellor two
instruments, by which Charles V. made over to his son his sovereignty
over the kingdom of Naples, and the Duchy of Milan, so that, as
Gardiner at once declared to the assembly, “it was thought the Queen’s
Majesty should marry but with a prince; now it was manifested that she
should marry with a king”.[464]
Then the banns were bidden, in Latin and in English, and the marriage
was solemnised, the Queen standing on the right side, the King on the
left, while the Marquis of Winchester, the Earls of Derby, Bedford and
Pembroke gave her to her husband, in the name of the whole realm. The
nuptial blessing was pronounced by Gardiner, who was the officiating
prelate in default of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
“Then all the people gave a great shout, praying God to send them joy,
and the ring being laid upon the book to be hallowed, the Prince laid
also upon the said book, three handfuls of fine gold, which the lady
Margaret[465] seeing, opened the Queen’s purse, and the Queen smilingly
put up in the same purse. And when they had enclosed their hands,
immediately the sword was advanced before the King, by the Earl of
Pembroke.”[466] The marriage ring was a plain hoop of gold without any
stone, for the Queen had said: “she would be married as maidens were in
the old time, and so she was”.[467]
“After the marriage knot thus knit, the King and Queen came hand in
hand, under a rich canopy, being borne over them with six knights,
and two swords before them, all the lords both English and strangers,
richly apparelled going afore them, the trumpets then blowing, till
they came into the choir, where all the priests and singing men, all
in rich copes, began to sing a psalm used in marriages, the King and
Queen kneeling a while before the altar, each of them having a taper
afore them. Then after, her Majesty went into her traverse on the right
side, and the King into another on the left side; after the Gospel,
they came out, and kneeled before the altar openly all the Mass time,
and the care-cloth was holden over them; and he kissed the bishop at
the _Agnus_ and then her Majesty. The Mass done, the King of Heralds
openly in the church, and in presence of the King, the Queen, the lords
and ladies, and all the people, solemnly proclaimed their Majesties
King and Queen, with their title and style in manner as followeth:
Philip and Mary by the grace of God, King and Queen of England, France,
Naples, Jerusalem, Ireland, Defenders of the Faith, Princes of Spain
and Sicily, Archdukes of Austria, Dukes of Milan, Burgundy and Brabant,
Counts of Hapsburg, Flanders and Tyrol.”[468]
At three o’clock, the royal procession left the Cathedral, and the
King and Queen walked hand in hand to the banqueting hall. According
to the Spanish accounts of the banquet, none were seated at the royal
table but the King and Queen. Some of the English chronicles state that
a third place was assigned to Gardiner, the only dignitary admitted
to their table. Farther off, tables occupying the whole length of the
room were placed for the members of the court, the foreign ambassadors,
Philip’s suite and the other guests. De Noailles had absented himself
from the whole of the marriage ceremonies, judging that it was beneath
his master’s dignity for the imperial ambassador to take precedence of
him. Edward Underhill thus describes the banquet:—
“On the marriage day, the King and the Queen dined in the hall in
the bishops palace, sitting under the cloth of estate, and none else
at that table. The nobility sat at the side tables. We (the gentlemen
pensioners) were the chief servitors to carry the meat, and the Earl
of Sussex, our captain, was the shewer. The second course at the
marriage of a king is given unto the bearers; I mean the meat, but not
the dishes, for they were of gold. It was my chance to carry a great
pasty of red deer, in a great charger, very delicately baked, which
for the weight thereof, divers refused, the which pasty I sent unto
London, to my wife and her brother, who cheered therewith many of their
friends.”[469]
At the bottom of the hall was an orchestra, and music was played during
nearly the whole time of the banquet. Towards the end, the Winchester
schoolboys came in, and some of them recited poems and epithalamiums
in honour of the marriage. The Queen rewarded them handsomely. After
the banquet followed a ball, at which Underhill compared the Spanish
dancing unfavourably with the English, and especially with that of
Lord Braye and Mr. Carew, a criticism that must certainly be put down
to British prejudice. Before nine o’clock, all had retired, but the
feasting and rejoicing were continued for several days, after which
the King and Queen went to Basinghouse, and thence to Windsor. Here, a
chapter of the Order of the Garter was held, and Philip was installed.
During the preparations for this ceremony, an overzealous herald
hoisted down the arms of England and substituted those of Spain, but he
was peremptorily ordered to replace them as they were.[470]
On the 7th August, a great public hunt was held, with toils five and
six miles long, “and many a deer that day was brought to the quarry”.
So far, the Emperor and his ministers were satisfied with the
success of their policy. On the 4th August, the Bishop of Arras wrote
to Renard, expressing “incredible content, that the marriage for
which both had worked, for so long, was accomplished, to the mutual
satisfaction of both parties, and that the King was behaving in every
way so well, that he had gained the approbation of all in England”.
He foresaw, he said, many difficulties still, but hoped that with
gentleness and benignity, they might not prove too great.[471]
Meanwhile, the King and Queen had made their public entry into London,
and although there is nothing in the records to indicate that the
citizens made any hostile demonstration against Philip, their reception
of him cannot have been altogether gratifying, for after his second
visit to the capital in September, Renard observed:—
“Since the return of the King to London, the vigil of St. Michael, the
citizens have recovered altogether from the insolence which they at
first showed, and seemed to comprehend, and taste at last, the honour
and welfare which the alliance has brought to England, and the repose
and tranquillity that are the result”.[472] The nobility, he went on to
say, were beginning to accommodate themselves, and to converse with the
Spaniards, admiring the humanity and virtue of the King, so that things
were more peaceful than usual. At first, there had been, he said, some
embarrassment, because things had not been arranged properly, but
since the Council had been informed of the difficulty in getting the
suite lodged, they had given such orders, that the citizens no longer
objected to lodge the strangers, and that now all was well, except that
they were made to pay exorbitant rents, which also would be reformed.
It was true, he continued, that the heretics could not get over the
matter of religion, and had been much troubled by the articles which
the Bishop of London (Bonner) had caused to be printed and published,
and notably on account of the form and name of the Inquisition, in
which they had been conceived, but the publication had continued, in
spite of murmurs, and they could do nothing, Madam Elizabeth being
under arrest. All their hope now lay in the Earl of Arundel, who was an
enemy of the Chancellor, and who hoped to marry his son to the Princess.
At the public entry of their Majesties into London, one small but
ominous misadventure has been recorded showing the drift of Puritan
feeling. The streets were gaily decorated, and the citizens indulged
their love of pageantry freely. At the Conduit in Gracechurch Street,
figures had been painted representing “Nine Worthies,” among whom were
Henry VIII., Edward VI. and Mary. Henry VIII. wore armour, and had a
sword in one hand, while he held a book in the other. On the book was
inscribed in Latin _The Word of God_. He was supposed to be handing the
Bible to Edward, who was standing in a corner by his side.
“Hereupon was no small matter made, for the Bishop of Winchester,
lord Chancellor sent for the painter, and not only called him knave,
for painting a book in King Henry’s hand, and specially for writing
thereupon _Verbum Dei_, but also rank traitor and villain, saying to
him that he should rather have put the book into the Queen’s hand
(who was also painted there) for that she had reformed the Church and
religion, with other things, according to the pure word of God indeed.
The painter answered and said, that if he had known that had been the
matter wherefore his lordship sent for him he could have remedied it,
and not have troubled his lordship. The bishop answered and said, that
it was the Queen’s Majesty’s will and commandment, that he should send
for him; and so commanding him to wipe out the book and _Verbum Dei_,
he sent him home. So the painter departed, but fearing lest he should
leave somewhat either of the book or of _Verbum Dei_ in King Henry’s
hand, he wiped away a piece of his fingers withal.”[473]
Another discordant note was struck by the circumstance that the Council
either by design or accident delayed inviting the French ambassador
to take part in the procession, till half an hour before the King and
Queen set forth from Southwark. De Noailles received the invitation by
means of “a shabby-looking individual, who said he was one of the newly
made heralds,” and pleaded the shortness of time in which to make a
creditable appearance, and to get himself to Southwark, a distance of
at least two miles from his house.[474] Nevertheless, as soon as might
be, he solicited an audience, and was received by the Queen on the 21st
August. On expressing his congratulations, coupled with regrets at not
having been able to be present at the wedding festivities, like the
other ambassadors, his desires for her prosperity and for peace between
France and England being no less than she herself could wish, Mary
replied that she had not forgotten what she had said to him at their
first interview, relating to the friendship contracted between the two
countries during her father’s and her brother’s lifetime. She had, she
declared, maintained it intact; and in spite of the troubles in the
past, all things being now settled to her great contentment, she hoped
that the peace for which she had so deep an affection would never be
violated.
On leaving the Queen’s presence, de Noailles proceeded to an audience
with Philip, an occasion of still deeper concern to him. The following
remarks, which he wrote for his master’s information, reveal the want
of good faith and mutual confidence through the polite speeches made on
either side.
“On being conducted to him, I said that I had taken advantage of the
first opportunity to pay my respects to his Majesty, and to inform him
as ambassador of the very Christian King, residing at the Court of the
Queen of England, his good sister, that their Majesties had hitherto
lived, and had caused their subjects to live, in peace and sincere
friendship with each other. This peace and friendship I trusted, would
not be troubled or diminished by his advent on the throne, but rather
be increased thereby, and that he would as far as possible be the
means of the pacification of all Christendom, as the said Lady and
her Council had often predicted. And I added, that I prayed our Lord
to permit the tranquillity in which his Highness had found these two
realms in their relations with each other, to continue perpetually. In
this case, I said, he might count on my co-operation as minister and
humble servant of his Majesty, who like a true prince made a point of
observing his promises faithfully. When I had finished my speech, the
said King called the Chancellor, and told him in Latin, that he had
perfectly understood what I had said, although he could not _speak_
French, and he begged him to reply to me, and say that both before
and since his arrival in this country, he had sworn and promised to
maintain the alliances which the Kingdom of England had contracted with
neighbouring princes, and in which he had found this realm, as long as
it should be for the good and convenience of England. He thanked me
moreover for the good service which I had offered to do in this matter,
and for the trouble I had taken in coming to see him, his answer being
clearly forged in the Emperor’s, as well as in the English smithy, as
one may see, by the pains they take to show that they are not wanting
in the will to make war on the first convenient occasion.”[475]
But Mary at least was anxious for peace, and she wrote to Henry II.
expressing herself in no ambiguous terms on the subject.[476] At the
same time, she knew not how to satisfy all the various conflicting
demands on her justice, her fidelity to her people, to her husband and
to her conscience. Philip had shown himself so willing, in every way,
to respect national customs and prejudices; he was so careful in his
intercourse with Englishmen to seem to identify his interests with
theirs, that it was felt something must also be conceded to his tastes.
Hitherto the palace gates had been open to all comers; the Queen was
easy of access to the humblest petitioner, and the Venetian ambassador
has recorded that from early morning till late at night she gave
audiences without ceasing. A few days after their public entry into
London, their Majesties removed to Hampton Court, where more of Spanish
etiquette and of that aloofness which characterised the majesty of
Spain began to be observed. Before long, there were murmurs because the
hall door within the courtyard was now kept continually shut, so that
no man might enter, unless his errand were first known, “which seemed
strange to Englishmen that had not been used thereto”.[477]
Philip may have considered this withdrawal from close contact with the
people a necessity, on account of the unsatisfactory state of London,
which was constantly the scene of attacks against religious ceremonies,
disputes at street corners, concerning points of doctrine, and the
interpretation of different passages of Scripture. Not unfrequently,
the brawl would end in vituperation of the Queen, of Philip and of
their marriage, in language that was no less than treason. Renard
had repeatedly expressed the opinion that these disturbers of the
public peace should be punished as rebels, and not as heretics. Such
a proceeding would certainly have been far more diplomatic, although
the outrages perpetrated sprang obviously from religious discontent.
The Chancellor and the Bishop of London ruled that they came within
the episcopal province and jurisdiction, and proceeded against them in
the religious sense, sometimes dispensing with the royal sign manual
altogether. The articles mentioned in Renard’s letter as having been
published by Bonner in September came under this head. The Council
called him to account for having acted without sufficient warrant,
and, above all, without the seal of their Majesties. Bonner replied,
that these were things dependent on his office and jurisdiction, and
that he knew well, in communicating them to the Council, annoyances
and hindrances would have been put in his way; that he had acted in
the service of God, and that in religious questions one must advance
boldly, without fear. He gave instances from the Old Testament,
to prove that God helped those who upheld His laws, observed His
commandments, and adhered faithfully to Him.
Later on, the Council altered their tactics, and Bonner was accused of
dilatoriness in examining heretics.
Gardiner, preaching at Paul’s Cross, about this time, inveighed against
the prevailing heresies, but in such a manner that his audience took
his words in good part, although there were more than ten thousand
persons present. He touched discreetly on the Queen’s marriage, and had
it not been for Bonner’s articles, the agitation in London would have
gradually subsided. But the disturbances which they caused became so
serious, and the people remonstrated to such purpose, that they were
temporarily withdrawn. Even then, the Londoners were not satisfied,
erroneously connecting the Bishop’s measures with Spanish policy, and
clamouring for the arrival of Reginald Pole, who, in spite of his long
exile, was known to be a thorough Englishman at heart, and to have been
disinclined to the Queen’s marriage.
But although, when once the alliance was an accomplished fact, the
Emperor’s zeal for the salvation of souls appeared suddenly to awake,
and although he expressed keen anxiety that the Papal Legate should
proceed at once to his mission in England,[478] Pole was still
prevented from accomplishing it. His desire to return to his native
land was as great as that of his fellow-countrymen for his presence
among them, and on the 21st September, he wrote to Philip, complaining
that it was now a year since he commenced knocking at his palace gate,
nor as yet had any one opened it to him. Were the King to ask, “Who
knocks?” he would reply, “I am he, who in order not to exclude your
consort from the throne of England, endured expulsion from home and
country, and twenty years of exile”. Were he merely to say this much,
would he not seem worthy to return to the land of his birth, and to
have access to the King? But as he was not acting in his own name, nor
as a private person, he knocked and demanded in the name and person
of the vicegerent of the King of kings and the Pastor of man, namely,
the successor of Peter, or rather of Peter himself, whose authority,
heretofore so flourishing and vigorous in England, was now most
injuriously ejected thence. Through Pole, Peter had long been knocking
at the royal gate, which although open to others, was still closed to
him alone. The voice perhaps was not heard? Continuing in the same
strain, he expostulated with Philip and Mary, and concluded by saying
that if he personally were not acceptable, he begged that another might
be summoned in his stead.[479]
Few, conversant with the celebrities of the sixteenth century, will
fail to see in Reginald Pole the most distinguished Englishman of his
day. Of royal descent, a notable scholar and a man whose conscience
ruled every action of his life, he voluntarily exiled himself, when,
at the cost of a single principle, the highest preferments in Church
or State lay open to him. Two passions marked his singularly blameless
career: love of his country and devotion to the Holy See. He turned
his back on the one, when the King renounced the other, and made it
high treason to continue to acknowledge the Pope Head of the Church of
England. We have seen that when Pole refused to return to England he
was declared a traitor, a price was put upon his head, and his aged
mother was brought to the block.
Paul III. made him a Cardinal, in order to avail himself of his
knowledge and brilliant talents at the Council of Trent, and at the
death of that Pontiff, he was the imperial candidate for the Papacy.
Had he possessed a particle of ambition he might have controlled the
Conclave.
On Mary’s accession, he wrote many urgent appeals to the Queen,
beseeching her to lose no time in riveting the broken chain between
England and Rome. He possessed undoubted influence with her, but
less than the Emperor, who counselled delay, and took care that the
interests of the empire should before all be secured. The eldest son of
the Church, Charles ever made religion the handmaid of politics; and
as for Philip, in spite of his boasted maxim, that it would be better
not to reign at all, than to reign over a nation of heretics, he was
content always to play a waiting game, and above all to follow his
father’s lead. Pole, in common with Gardiner, had considered that Mary
was fatally mistaken in allying herself with Spain, that the English
would have been far more easily reconciled to Rome if every other
foreign element had been excluded, and confidence in herself planted on
a firm and solid basis, and that, at all events, the re-establishment
of Papal jurisdiction should have been her first care in ascending the
throne. If, when the kingdom was at her feet, she had freed herself
from the Emperor’s influence, and had summoned Pole in his official
capacity as Papal Legate, he believed that the movement towards reunion
would have been a truly national one.
In many ways, Pole’s opinion was justified by facts. The enthusiasm
with which Mary had been greeted, although perhaps mainly owing to the
affection she inspired, was also in no small measure due to the recoil
of the people from the innovations of Edward’s reign, innovations
that had abounded in disillusion, and that had set the hearts of many
burning within them with desire for the old religion. But de Noailles,
Suffolk, Wyatt and others, had successfully availed themselves of the
unpopularity of the Queen’s contemplated marriage to rouse the Puritan
minority against her throne, and her religion; and the Emperor, knowing
Pole’s opinions, and being well aware of the weight they would have in
England, detained the Legate till all dread of his interference was at
an end.
Great as was his disappointment at the enforced delay, Pole was not
the man to resent or resist the obstacles put in his way. He did what
he could, to fulfil his secondary mission, which was to promote peace
between the King of France and the Emperor; and he conferred diligently
with the royal and imperial ministers, on the possibility of a _modus
vivendi_ between the two powers. From Brussels he went to Paris and
made a favourable impression on Henry II., but failing to bring about
the desired object, returned to the Netherlands. Charles received
him coolly, believing him to have been the author of an intercepted
letter, which had been actually written by one of his suite, to the
Queen of England, dissuading her from marrying Philip. But this gave
Pole the opportunity of assuring the Emperor, that he was convinced
the Queen’s decision had been taken with the highest motives for the
sake of religion, and in order to secure the royal succession, and
that such being the case, he cordially approved it.[480] Philip was
now in England, and the Legate, like the Chancellor, made the best
of what could no longer be avoided. Difficulties other than those
concerning the empire kept him still an exile. They were of two kinds,
one relating to himself personally, the other having reference to the
religious state of England. The personal difficulty was the fact of his
being still an outlaw, and as regarded the other, until there was some
prospect of the accomplishment of his mission, it would be useless for
him to cross the Channel.
The first, but least formidable barrier to the reunion of the kingdom
with Rome, arose from the opposition of a small party unfavourable
to Papal jurisdiction. This party was confined almost exclusively
to London, and to parts of the southern and eastern counties, but
wherever isolated bodies of Puritans were to be found scattered up
and down the country, the same opposition naturally prevailed. The
great masses of country gentlefolk had become, in consequence of the
frequent changes of religion, indifferent to every form of faith;
they would have been ready, at the call of the Sovereign, to embrace
Judaism or Mohammedanism if their convenience or interest required it.
The yeomanry, farmers and peasantry were nearly everywhere intensely
Catholic, but especially in the north, where also a considerable
number of landed gentry were ready to suffer all things in defence of
the old religion. But another class had sprung up in the course of
twenty-five years, consisting of almost every second wealthy family in
the kingdom, enriched, in many cases entirely built up, from the spoils
of the churches and monasteries. And these would never consent to any
religious authority that might call their right to them in question.
Cardinal Pole was known to be opposed to any recognition of the title
of these lay proprietors; and without wasting efforts at this crisis,
in an attempt to induce Parliament to reverse Pole’s attainder, the
Chancellor appealed to the Pope for a bull, confirming them in their
possessions.
In reply to the before-mentioned letter, in which Pole spoke of his
having been kept knocking a whole year at the palace gates, Philip sent
Renard to Brussels to negotiate. Having graphically described the state
of the country, proving to the Legate that a general and immediate
restitution was out of the question, Renard persuaded him to leave the
matter for a time in abeyance. Meanwhile Julius III. signed a bull,
empowering the Legate to give, alienate and transfer to the actual
holders, all property which had been torn from the Church during the
reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI. The Pope had considered, after
consulting with canonists, that the continued alienation of Church
property was justifiable, if it proved the means of restoring the realm
to the faith.
This difficulty being settled, on Renard’s return to England, the
Lords Paget and Hastings were sent to bring the Legate home. Sir
William Cecil accompanied them, but in an unofficial capacity, probably
because, having become a Catholic, he would be a _persona grata_ to
Pole, and also to the Emperor on account of his moderate views.[481]
Parliament met on the 12th November, and a bill was brought forward
to reverse Pole’s attainder. It set forth that the sole cause of
his disgrace was his refusal to consent to the unlawful divorce of
the Queen’s father and mother, and in order that the repeal might
be clearly understood as an act of justice, and not of grace, the
cause was rejudged, the result being that both Houses repealed the
attainder, and restored all his rights and privileges. The Great Seal
put to this Act was, for more distinction, taken off in gold. Pole
was then free to return to his native land, and was received at Dover
on the 20th, with the honours due to a royal person. From Gravesend,
he sailed up the Thames in the Queen’s barge, his silver cross at the
prow, a crowd of smaller boats flying gala colours. At Westminster, the
Chancellor welcomed him at the landing place, and conducted him to the
palace. Their Majesties rose from dinner to greet him, receiving him at
the top of the great staircase.
After delivering the briefs of his legation, he retired to the
archiepiscopal palace at Lambeth, which had been prepared for his
reception. Three days later, a royal message summoned the Lords and
Commons to the court, where the Legate, in a long speech, acknowledged
the act of justice done to him, invited the nation to a sincere
repentance of its past errors, and exhorted the members of both Houses
to receive with joy the reconciliation which he was charged by Christ’s
Vicegerent here on earth to impart to them. As they, by repealing Acts
made against him, had opened his country to him once more, so he was
invested with full power to receive them back into the Church of God.
He then retired, and the Chancellor addressed them, in a discourse
beginning with the words, “The Lord shall raise up a prophet to thee
from amongst thine own brethren,” making an allusion to himself as
having been among the number of the delinquents. He urged them to rise
from their fallen state, and to seek reconciliation with the common
parent of all Christians.
The next day, both Houses passed a unanimous resolution to return to
the communion of the Catholic Church.
On the 30th, Feast of St. Andrew the Apostle, the King sent the Earl of
Arundel with six knights of the Garter and six prelates to escort the
Legate to the House of Lords. He took his place at the Queen’s right
hand, the King being on her left, but nearer to her. The Commons having
been sent for, Gardiner recapitulated what he had before said, asking
all present if they ratified his words, and desired to return to the
unity of the Catholic Church and to the obedience owed to her chief
pastor. The shouts and acclamations of the whole assembly answered him.
He then handed a petition to the King and Queen, on behalf of both
Houses of Parliament, as representatives of the nation, declaring their
sorrow for the schism, and all that had been done against the See of
Rome and the Catholic religion, requesting their Majesties to obtain of
the Lord Legate, pardon and restoration, as true and living members to
that body from which they had separated themselves by misdeeds.
When this petition had been read and returned to the Chancellor, who
then read it aloud in the hearing of all, both Houses rose as one man,
and went towards the Legate. He stepped forward to meet them, while
the Queen, in her own name, and in that of the nation, petitioned him
to grant them the pardon and reconciliation sued for. The Legate in
a somewhat lengthy speech reminded them of the thanks due to divine
Providence for this further proof of forbearance, and of the favour
shown to England. Then the whole assembly fell prostrate, except the
King and Queen, and the Cardinal pronounced the words of absolution,
“from all heresy and schism, and all judgments, censures and penalties,
for that cause incurred; and restored them to the communion of holy
Church, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost”. “Amen”
resounded from every part of the House, and the members rising from
their knees, followed the royal procession into the chapel, where they
returned thanks by chanting a solemn _Te Deum_.[482]
This apparent fervour was for the most part only on the surface. Had
Pole not returned armed with a Papal dispensation, exonerating all the
possessors of ecclesiastical plunder from the necessity of restoring
it, he would have been received in a very different spirit. It was
not possible to bring back the ages of faith to a generation that had
grown sceptical from change and worldliness, and both Houses consisted
largely of this class of people. When the question of restoring
Church lands had come under discussion before the Papal dispensation
had been published, the Earl of Bedford fell into a violent passion,
and breaking his rosary beads from his girdle flung them into the
fire, declaring that he valued his sweet abbey of Woburn more than
fatherly counsel that should come from Rome.[483] Although Sir William
Cecil might have expressed himself less warmly, he certainly shared
this sentiment, in regard to his benefices of Putney, Mortlake and
Wimbledon; and the express mention of the lands held by Sir William
Petre and the confirmation of his title to them in the bull of Paul
IV. are sufficient proof of the Chief Secretary’s unwillingness to
part with the monastic property that had fallen to his share.[484]
And these men were fairly representative of all those who had been
enriched in this way. It was to such as these that Pole addressed his
earnest admonition concerning the sacred vessels of the altar, that
they might not be put to profane uses, while he entreated all those
who were in possession of ecclesiastical revenues, “through the bowels
of mercy of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, that from a regard to
their own eternal lot, they would provide out of the Church lands, such
especially as had been set aside for the maintenance of the parochial
clergy, a competent subsistence for those who exercised that charge,
which might enable them to live creditably, according to their state,
and perform their functions, and support the burden of their calling”.
On the first Sunday of Advent, he made his public entry into London,
and heard High Mass at St. Paul’s. Gardiner on this occasion preached
his famous sermon, in which he accused himself bitterly of his conduct
under Henry VIII., and exhorted all who had fallen with him, or through
his example, to rise with him, and return to the religion of their
forefathers.[485] He took as the text of his discourse a part of the
eleventh verse of the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul’s Epistle to
the Romans, “It is the hour to rise out of sleep”. On the following
Thursday, both Houses of Convocation waited on the Cardinal at
Lambeth, and kneeling, received absolution “from all their perjuries,
schism and heresies”.[486]
To Mary the moment seemed to rain blessings. God was operating miracles
of grace in her favour. From the midst of perils that had surrounded
her from her childhood upwards, from ignominy such as the lowest in
the land had never known, she had been raised to the throne. Those
who had taken up arms against her had been twice signally defeated.
By a marriage which she had contracted in spite of the most violent
prejudice and opposition, she had allied her beloved country to the
most powerful empire in the world, and now she had been the means, not
only of restoring to it its birthright, but had thereby, in a certain
sense, expiated and undone her father’s sin. To crown her glory, she
was about to become a mother, and secure a long succession of Catholic
monarchs to the throne. She had longed for it, and had hoped for some
time; on the day of the Legate’s arrival she thought that she knew
it as certain, and applied to herself the words of St. Elizabeth, on
hearing the salutation of the Blessed Virgin.
Philip lost no time in informing the Pope of the happy issue of his
solicitude for the conversion of England. On the very day of the
reunion he wrote as follows:—
“TO OUR MOST HOLY FATHER,
“Most holy Father, I have already written to Dom John Manrique, to
inform your Holiness of the good condition of religious affairs in
this kingdom, and of the manner in which all things were tending
to render you obedience, and which I hoped for with the help of
our Lord. Now that the matter is accomplished, I must rejoice
with you, and inform you that to-day, feast of St. Andrew, in
the assembly which represents the kingdom, all have unanimously
testified deep regret for the past, and have declared their
obedience to your Holiness, and to the Holy See, afterwards by the
intercession of the Queen, receiving the absolution which the
Cardinal Legate pronounced. He will tell your Holiness all that
passed. As for me, the devout son of your Holiness, I confess that
I have never felt more joy than in seeing how, during the life of
your Holiness, a kingdom like this has returned to the bosom of
the Church, and I can but give thanks to God, to whom I also pray
to preserve and prosper your Holiness.
“London, 30 November 1554. Your Holiness’s very humble son,
PHILIP.”[487]
De Noailles was still doing his old work of sowing dissension
broadcast, and he flattered himself, and assured Henry, that the
country was on the verge of another revolt. But here his eager enmity
misled him, and his despatches about this time are exceedingly
untrustworthy. The fact is that Mary’s enemies were for a moment awed
into some degree of loyalty, by what was then regarded as a wonderful
succession of outward and visible signs of the Divine protection; and
apart from the friction caused by the presence of so many Spaniards
in London, the city had not been in so peaceable a condition for many
months. But Philip’s suite and the servants of his servants were far
less careful than the King was himself not to offend the national
susceptibilities, and on the slightest provocation, the Spaniards
produced their knives. It is recorded that on “Friday, the 26th day
of October, there was a Spaniard hanged at Charing Cross, which had
shamefully slain an Englishman, servant to Sir George Gifford. There
would have been given 500 crowns of the strangers to have saved his
life.”[488] On the 11th January, 1555, a Spaniard was hanged for
running an Englishman through with a rapier, whilst two Spaniards held
him by the arms.[489] Affrays were of constant occurrence between
Englishmen and Spaniards, and Philip issued a proclamation to the
effect that the first Spaniard who should dare to use a weapon was
to have his hand cut off. Henceforth, none of his compatriots were
to carry arms, and any who should raise the cry of _Spain_ for
assistance, either in defence or offence, should be hanged.[490] On the
other hand, the wealth of the Spaniards tempted the English; and on the
26th April, 1555, three men were hanged at Charing Cross, for robbing
them of a treasure of gold, out of Westminster Abbey.[491]
Cardinal Pole, in the report which he sent to Julius III. of the
ceremony in Parliament on St. Andrew’s Day, prognosticated nothing
but good for the future of the country. After bestowing much praise
on the King and Queen, he continues rather quaintly: “Philip is the
spouse of Mary, but treats her so deferentially as to appear her son,
thus giving promise of the best result. Mary has spiritually generated
England, before giving birth to that heir of whom there is very great
hope.”[492] The Pope’s response to this eulogy was the sending to Mary
of the golden rose, and to Philip the sword and hat which sometimes
accompanied it, when the Pope desired to honour in this manner both a
King and a Queen. The Venetian ambassador thus chronicled the event.
Writing on the 26th March 1555 he says: “Three days ago, there arrived
here Monsignor Antonio Agustini, auditor di Rota, sent by the Pope
to visit and thank their Majesties for the auspicious events of the
religion, and to present them with the rose, sword and hat which his
Holiness is in the habit of sending to one prince or another; and so
yesterday, the day of the Annunciation and commencement of the year,
according to the English style, the ceremony was performed in the
private chapel of her Majesty’s palace, there being present the most
illustrious Legate, all the ambassadors, and the lords of the Court.
Monsignor Agostini (_sic_) after the Mass, presented the rose to the
most serene Queen, and the sword and hat to the most serene King,
accompanying the presents with a brief from his Holiness, which was
read in public, replete with praise of their Majesties, and of his
Holiness’s great love and affection for them; and the most illustrious
Legate, in his episcopal habit, with mitre and cope, having recited
certain prayers over the presents, and given the usual benediction,
the most serene Queen evinced the utmost delight at hers, for after
a short prayer, she carried it in her own hand, and placed it on its
altar.”[493]
In the midst of her joy and hope, Mary was mindful of the afflicted.
Many were still in the Tower for having been implicated in Wyatt’s
rebellion. They would have been liberated at her marriage, but it had
been thought that the fear of death might induce them to make important
confessions. They were however released in January 1555, under personal
recognisances for their future good behaviour, subject to the payment
of sundry fines. Several of them were, notwithstanding, engaged in
another rebellious enterprise, a few months later.[494]
Elizabeth was not forgotten in the clemency so generally extended. She
too must feel the effect of the wonderful dawn of happiness that was at
last tinging all Mary’s existence with a rosy light. Even before her
marriage, the Queen had wished to restore her sister to liberty. But
the problem as to what should be done with her was not easy to solve.
She had thought of sending her to the Low Countries, where under the
eye of the widowed Queen of Hungary, Philip’s aunt, even Elizabeth
would find it difficult to do much mischief. Then a marriage was
proposed for her with Philibert Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy.
Closely as she was guarded by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, de Noailles found
means to communicate with her, and to advise her against this union.
He feared that she might consent to anything, in order to regain
her liberty. The Duke was a disinherited prince, and the project of
marrying her to him was nothing but a scheme for expatriating her,
perhaps even for depriving her of the hope she might entertain of one
day succeeding to the throne.[495]
Hereupon Elizabeth at once refused the Duke, without ever having seen
him. He had arrived in England during the Christmas holidays, leaving
at the beginning of January, and she was not released from captivity at
Woodstock until the following April.[496]
At the beginning of that month, Mary went to Hampton Court, where she
intended to await her confinement. On the 17th, Sir Henry Bedingfeld
received an order to convey the Lady Elizabeth to that place with all
despatch, together with her servants and her customary guard.[497] The
journey lasted four days, the third day being marked by a demonstration
in her favour, on the part of sixty of her tenants at Colnebrook.
But Bedingfeld, in the Queen’s name, ordered them all to retire, and
allowed none but her three women, an officer, two men-servants, and
a gentleman of her wardrobe to approach her. She arrived at Hampton
Court on the 29th, and was lodged in the apartment just then vacated by
the Duke of Alva, adjoining that of the King. All communication from
outside was cut off, and Bedingfeld’s soldiers mounted guard over her.
Her seclusion was almost as great as it had been at Woodstock. She was
not permitted to see the Queen, but according to documents discovered
a few years ago, and, of course, unknown to the early writers on this
reign, Philip visited her within a few days of her arrival.[498]
“The next day 29 April, Madam Elizabeth came to this Court, whom
the King went to visit two or three days after. She had been told
beforehand by the Queen her sister, to be dressed as richly as
possible, to receive the visit of the said King.”
What was said at this interview never transpired, but it is certain
that not a word passed Elizabeth’s lips, that could be construed into
a willingness to play the part of a repentant sinner. A demeanour of
injured and haughty innocence had served the accused Princess well,
when she was in imminent danger, and a prisoner in the Tower. She had
found it successful at Woodstock, and it was not likely that now,
when she was on the threshold of freedom, she would abate one iota
of her dignity. She knew that if there had been evidence against her
sufficient to convict, she would have been convicted long ago, and
she knew also that without that evidence her life was safe. After
a fortnight of solitude, she was allowed to see her great-uncle,
Lord William Howard, whom she begged to procure her the favour of an
interview with some members of the Privy Council. Accordingly, a few
days later, Gardiner, Arundel, Shrewsbury and Petre paid her a visit.
Foxe says:—
“Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, kneeled down, and
requested that she would submit herself to the queen’s grace; and in
so doing, he had no doubt but that her majesty would be good to her.
She made answer that rather than she would so do, she would lie in
prison all the days of her life; adding that she craved no mercy at
her majesty’s hand, but rather desired the law, if ever she did offend
her majesty in thought, word or deed. ‘And besides this, in yielding,’
quoth she, ‘I should speak against myself, and confess myself to be an
offender, which I never was towards her majesty, by occasion whereof,
the King and the Queen might ever hereafter conceive of me an evil
opinion. And therefore I say, my lords, it were better for me to lie in
prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of my prince.’
And so they departed, promising to declare her message to the queen.
“On the next day, the bishop of Winchester came again unto her grace,
and kneeling down, declared that the queen marvelled that she would so
stoutly use herself, not confessing that she had offended: so that
it should seem that the queen’s majesty had wrongfully imprisoned her
grace. ‘Nay,’ quoth the lady Elizabeth, ‘it may please her to punish
me as she thinketh good.’ ‘Well,’ quoth Gardiner, ‘her majesty willeth
me to tell you, that you must tell another tale, or that you be set at
liberty.’ Her grace answered, that she had as lieve be in prison with
honesty and truth, as to be abroad suspected of her majesty: ‘and this
that I have said, I will,’ said she, ‘stand unto: for I will never
belie myself’. Winchester again kneeled down, and said, ‘Then your
grace hath the vantage of me, and other the lords, for your wrong and
long imprisonment’. ‘What vantage I have,’ quoth she, ‘you know: taking
God to record I seek no vantage at your hands, for your so dealing
with me; but God forgive you and me also!’ With that the rest kneeled,
desiring her grace that all might be forgotten, and so departed, she
being fast locked up again.”[499]
Nevertheless, in spite of these bold words, so little was Elizabeth
resigned to a life of captivity that she never ceased besieging her
friends with letters, petitions that they would obtain her release, and
assurances of her innocence.[500]
“A sevennight after,” continues Foxe, “the queen sent for her grace at
ten of the clock in the night, to speak with her: for she had not seen
her in two years before. Yet for all that, she was amazed at the so
sudden sending for, thinking it had been worse for her than afterwards
it proved, and desired her gentlemen and gentlewomen to pray for her,
for that she could not tell whether ever she should see them again or
no. At which time, coming in, Sir Henry Benifield [Bedingfeld] with
mistress Clarencius,[501] her grace was brought into the garden unto a
stair’s foot that went to the queen’s lodging, her grace’s gentlewomen
waiting upon her, her gentleman-usher, and her grooms going before with
torches; where her gentleman and gentlewomen being commanded to stay
all, saving one woman, Mistress Clarencius conducted her to the queen’s
bedchamber, where her majesty was. At the sight of whom, her grace
kneeled down, and desired God to preserve her majesty, not mistrusting
but that she should try herself as true a subject towards her majesty
as ever did any; and desired her majesty even so to judge of her; and
said that she should not find her to the contrary, whatsoever report
otherwise had gone of her. To whom the queen answered, ‘You will not
confess your offence, but stand stoutly in your truth. I pray God
it may so fall out.’ ‘If it doth not,’ quoth the lady Elizabeth, ‘I
request neither favour nor pardon at your majesty’s hands.’ ‘Well,’
said the queen, ‘you stiffly still persevere in your truth. Belike you
will not confess but that you have been wrongfully punished.’ ‘I must
not say so, if it please your Majesty, to you.’ ‘Why then,’ said the
queen, ‘belike you will to others.’ ‘No, if it please your majesty,’
quoth she. ‘I have borne the burden, and must bear it. I humbly beseech
your majesty to have a good opinion of me, and to think me to be your
true subject, not only from the beginning hitherto, but for ever, as
long as life lasteth.’ And so they departed, with very few comfortable
words of the queen in English: but what she said in Spanish, God
knoweth. It is thought that King Philip was there, behind a cloth, and
not seen, and that he showed himself a very friend in that matter.”[502]
A week later, Sir Henry Bedingfeld’s task was done, and Elizabeth was
free.
Courtenay had been already released from his captivity at Fotheringhay
Castle, and had received advice from the King and Queen, equivalent to
a command, to travel for the improvement of his mind. He went first to
Brussels, from which place the English ambassador wrote to Sir William
Petre:—
“Last Sunday, the Earl of Devon was conducted to the Emperor by the
Duke of Alva. Masone was not present but by report of the Duke and
Chamberlain, whom the Earl has requested to be his interpreter if
necessary, he demeaned himself very well, declaring, among other
things, how much he was indebted to King Philip for helping him,
through the Queen’s favour out of custody, and also for procuring him
leave to see the world, whereby he might attain to such knowledge, as
displeasant fortune had caused him hitherto to lack: for which reason,
he had come to offer his services to the Emperor, the renown of whose
court was so great. His Majesty embraced his offer most willingly,
minding from time to time, to show him such signs of his favour, as the
Earl should have no cause to forthink his journey hither. To this he
said he was moved, not merely by the King’s and Queen’s recommendation,
but for the sake of the Earl’s father, whose noble virtues were not
unknown to him.”[503]
Courtenay afterwards went to Italy, where he died in 1556.
Meanwhile, elaborate preparations had been made for the advent of
Mary’s passionately longed for child. Public prayers were offered for
the Queen’s safety, and Parliament had petitioned Philip that “if it
should happen to the queen otherwise than well, in the time of her
travail, he would take upon himself the government of the realm during
the minority of her majesty’s issue, with the rule, order, education
and government of the said issue”.[504] In the Royal Library in
Paris is a letter addressed to the Queen of Navarre, and describing
an interview with Philip and Mary, at which the latter informed the
writer, that the first desire of her heart was to have a son. Letters
were written as the expected time approached, to announce the joyful
intelligence of the birth of a child, blank spaces being left for the
date and the sex to be filled in afterwards. But the time wore on
and passed, and it was at last clear that what had been mistaken for
the promise of motherhood, was but the beginning of a fatal disease.
Mary clung to the hope long after her physicians had assured her that
she would never give birth to a child, and most of those around her
flattered the hope, while they pitied the delusion. One of her women
was however more sincere and a contemporary document relates, “How Mrs.
Clarentius and divers others, as parasites about her, assured her to
be with child, insomuch as the Queen was fully so persuaded herself,
being right desirous thereof, if God had been so pleased, that it
might have been a comfort to all Catholic posterity, as she declared
by her oration in the Guild Hall at London, at the rising of Wyatt,
which was so worthy a speech made by her there, touching the cause of
her marriage and why, that it made them that were there, though of
contrary religion, to relent into tears, and hardly could she suffer
any that would not say as she said, touching her being with child. Mrs.
Frideswide Strelley, a good honourable woman of hers would not yield to
her desire, and never told her an untruth....”[505]
The writer then describes that “when the rockers and cradle, and all
such things were provided for the Queen’s delivery, that her time
should be nigh, as it was supposed, and those parasites had had all
the spoil of such things amongst them, and no such matter in the end
... then when the uttermost time was come, and the Queen thus deluded,
she sent for Sterly (_sic_) her woman again, to whom she said, ‘Ah,
Strelly, Strelly, I see they be all flatterers, and none true to me but
thou,’ and then was she more in favour than ever she was before”.
As the hope of an heir was gradually abandoned, all other reasons for
congratulation appeared also to fade away. De Noailles’ intrigues had
prepared a fresh harvest of discontent, and with Elizabeth’s release,
the turbulence of the Londoners assumed a more insolent character
than ever. Hideous lampoons were circulated, bearing upon the Queen’s
supposed condition, and to increase her agony of mind, Philip showed
signs of a sickening conviction of the uselessness of his sacrifice.
A little book of prayers, once belonging to Queen Mary is to be seen at
the British Museum.[506] Its leaves are worn and thumbed, and it opens
of itself at a blurred and tear-stained page, on which is a petition
for the unity of the Catholic Church, and another for the safe delivery
of a woman with child. These oft-conned prayers afford us a glimpse
into the Queen’s heart, which not all the despatches of ambassadors are
able to give.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 445: Santarem, _Relations diplomatiques de Portugal_, etc.,
vol. iii., p. 523 _et seq._]
[Footnote 446: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
257.]
[Footnote 447: Mgr. Namèche, _Le Règne de Philippe II._, vol. i., p. 7
_et seq._]
[Footnote 448: Armand Baschet, _La Diplomatie Vénitienne au seixième
siècle_, p. 239.]
[Footnote 449: “Relations des ambassadeurs sous Charles V et Philippe
II,” _Le Règne de Philippe II_, par Mgr. Namèche, vol. i., p. 7 _et
seq._]
[Footnote 450: Rawdon Brown, _Venetian Calendar_, 1534-54, p. 532.]
[Footnote 451: Machyn, Stow, Foxe and others all agree that there were
twenty cartloads of bullion.]
[Footnote 452: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
267.]
[Footnote 453: According to Renard. De Noailles says that he was
invested with the Order before disembarking.]
[Footnote 454: Created Viscount Montague after the royal marriage.]
[Footnote 455: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 285.]
[Footnote 456: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 287.]
[Footnote 457: _Ibid._, p. 280.]
[Footnote 458: Hume, whose history of Mary’s reign repeats the
prejudices of Foxe and others with unwarrantable additions of his own,
says, among a tissue of other inaccuracies, that the marriage took
place at Westminster. Murray’s reprint of Hume’s _History of England_,
corrected in some points by Brewer, rectifies this error.]
[Footnote 459: Some of the Spaniards commenced disembarking, either
because they were ordered to do so, or because they were tired of being
on ship-board, but the English Government made them go back (_Ven.
Cal._, vol. v., p. 923).]
[Footnote 460: Mgr. Namèche, _Le Règne de Philippe II_, etc., vol. i.,
p. 44 _et seq._]
[Footnote 461: According to other chroniclers, an hour; some say two
hours.]
[Footnote 462: John Elder’s letter, printed in the _Chronicle of Queen
Jane_, etc., p. 136, appendix.]
[Footnote 463: Wriothesley, vol. ii., p. 120.]
[Footnote 464: _The Marriage of Queen Mary and King Philip_, Official
Account of the English Heralds; printed in the _Chronicle of Queen
Jane_, etc., Appendix, p. 167.]
[Footnote 465: The Lady Margaret Clifford, Mary’s only female relative
present. Not, as Miss Strickland says, the Lady Margaret Douglas, who
was at that time Countess of Lennox.]
[Footnote 466: _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., _ut supra_.]
[Footnote 467: Wriothesley, vol. ii., p. 120.]
[Footnote 468: Wriothesley, vol. ii., p. 121. Machyn, _Diary_, p. 67.
“Relation de ce qui s’est passé en la célébration du mariage de nostre
Prince, avec la sérénissime Reyne d’Angleterre,” Louvain Archives, Reg.
Côte, G., f. 339.]
[Footnote 469: _The Narrative of Edward Underhill_, Harl. MS. 425, f.
97, Brit. Mus.; printed in the _Chronicle of Queen Jane_, etc., p. 170,
appendix.
Underhill, although belonging to the so-called gospellers, and having
been arrested while Mary was in Suffolk, for a ballad which he had
written against Papists, was released a few days after her arrival in
London. He always remained a Protestant, but was so conspicuously loyal
to the Queen that he was never molested for religion during her reign.]
[Footnote 470: Holinshed, vol. iii., p. 1120.]
[Footnote 471: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
285.]
[Footnote 472: _Ibid._, p. 317.]
[Footnote 473: Holinshed, p. 1121. Froude in repeating this story
(_History of England_, vol. vi., p. 254), misled no doubt by Strype’s
marginal notes, makes it appear as if the Bible had been an offensive
object to Gardiner and the Queen, not that the grievance was, as the
chronicler expressly states, the fact of its being represented in
Henry’s hands, instead of in Mary’s.]
[Footnote 474: _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 305.]
[Footnote 475: _Ambassades_, vol. iii., p. 309 _et seq._]
[Footnote 476: _Ibid._, p. 323.]
[Footnote 477: Holinshed, p. 1121.]
[Footnote 478: _Papiers d’Etat du Cardinal de Granvelle_, vol. iv., p.
281.]
[Footnote 479: Pole’s Correspondence, Latin, pp. 162-66; English
translation, _Venetian Cal._, 1534-54, 946.]
[Footnote 480: _Dictionary of National Biography_, article “Reginald
Pole”.]
[Footnote 481: Martin Hume, _The Great Lord Burghly_, p. 55. Although
Cecil never held any office under Mary, in consequence of the manner in
which he had distinguished himself in the first rebellion, he sometimes
appeared at court, was rich and influential, and spent most of his time
in luxurious ease at his house at Wimbledon. He not only professed
himself a Catholic, but according to Parsons in his _Three Conversions
of England_, common report attributed his safety during Mary’s reign to
the diligence with which he manipulated a monstrous pair of beads every
morning in Wimbledon Church. The first entry in the Easter book of
Wimbledon Parish in 1556 is: “My Master Sir Wilyam Cecell and my lady
Myldred his wyff,” denoting that they had made their Easter, _i.e._,
had confessed and received the Sacrament of the altar.]
[Footnote 482: Journal of the House of Commons, 38. Pole’s
Correspondence, appendix, 315-18. Thomas Phillips, _The Life of
Reginald Pole_.]
[Footnote 483: Cole MS., Brit. Mus.; printed in the _Portfolio of a Man
of Letters_.]
[Footnote 484: Journal of the House of Commons, 21st October 1555.]
[Footnote 485: Pole’s _Letters_, vol. v., pp. 293-300. Foxe, _Acts and
Monuments_.]
[Footnote 486: The Act 1 and 2, Philip and Mary, ch. 8, for restoring
the Pope’s supremacy was passed in January 1555.]
[Footnote 487: Ribier, _Lettres et Mémoires d’Etat_, vol. ii., p. 542.]
[Footnote 488: Wriothesley, _Chronicle_, vol. ii., p. 123.]
[Footnote 489: _Ibid._, p. 125.]
[Footnote 490: _Venetian Calendar_, 1555-56, 150.]
[Footnote 491: Strype, _Ecclesiastical Memorials_, vol. iii., pt. i.,
p. 342. “At this time there was so many Spaniards in London, that a man
should have met in the street for one Englishman, above four Spaniards,
to the great discomfort of the English nation” (_Chronicle of Queen
Jane_, etc., p. 81). For want of other accommodation, they were lodged
in the halls of the city companies.]
[Footnote 492: _Venetian Calendar_, vol. v., 966. St. Mark’s Library,
Cod. xxiv., Cl. x.]
[Footnote 493: _Venetian Calendar_, vol. vi., pt. i., 37.]
[Footnote 494: _Acts of the Privy Council_, vol. v., pp. 157, 159,
171, 173, new series. The disturbances here mentioned were the direct
consequence of the liberation of the disaffected.]
[Footnote 495: De Noailles, _Ambassades_, vol. iii., pp. 262, 263.]
[Footnote 496: Miss Strickland is wrong in supposing that she was at
court in December 1554, returning afterwards to Woodstock. Renard, de
Noailles, Foxe, Holinshed, Stow and others only mention her appearance
there on her release in April 1555.]
[Footnote 497: _Bedingfeld Papers_, p. 225.]
[Footnote 498: _Archives des Affaires Etrangères_, Angleterre, vol. i.,
p. 827, Paris: “Mémoires et Instructions du sieur de la Marque allant
vers M. le Connestable.” Froude is also inaccurate in fixing the date
of Elizabeth’s departure from Woodstock in July, and in saying that the
Princess was received at Hampton Court by Lord William Howard, and that
the courtiers flocked round her, offering her their congratulations
(vol. vi., p. 357).]
[Footnote 499: Foxe, vol. viii., p. 620.]
[Footnote 500: Heywood, p. 156.]
[Footnote 501: The Queen’s Mistress of the Robes, otherwise spoken of
as Clarence.]
[Footnote 502: _Acts and Monuments_, ut supra.]
[Footnote 503: Calendar of State Papers, Mary, Foreign, 21st May 1555.]
[Footnote 504: _Statutes of the Realm_, iv., 255.]
[Footnote 505: Sloane MS. 1583, f. 15.]
[Footnote 506: _Ibid._]