CHAPTER III

1554-1555

Philip’s first meeting with Mary—The marriage—Discontent

and disappointment of the Spaniards—Philip’s kindness

to his wife—Spanish descriptions of England—Philip in

London—Arrival of Pole—Philip’s religious policy in England—His

attempts to marry Elizabeth to Savoy—The Emperor’s war with

France—Departure of Philip from England

Dusk was falling upon the gloomy day when Philip, having duly performed

his devotions and admired the splendid fane of Winchester, found himself

at ease in the Dean’s house, which had been prepared for his reception.

The Queen’s maiden scruples had been respected, for it was not in

accordance with etiquette that they should both sleep under the same roof

before they became man and wife; so that whilst the Deanery sheltered the

bridegroom, the bride was lodged in Bishop Gardiner’s castle adjoining.

Philip supped, and when he was thinking of going to bed, it being ten

o’clock at night, some English courtiers and the Mistress of the Robes

came and said that the Queen wished him to visit her secretly in her

closet, where she awaited him, but that he was to bring only a very few

followers. Another beautiful dress had perforce to be assumed, consisting

of a French surcoat embroidered in silver and gold, with doublet and

trunks of white kid covered with gold embroidery; and then, accompanied

by Alba, Medina-Celi, Feria, Aguilar, Egmont, Horn, and a half-dozen

more grandees, the Prince was led by his English guides across the lane

and still-existing little green to a garden gate, through which only the

nobles chosen by Philip were allowed to enter. They found themselves in

a delicious garden, and in the mysterious darkness threaded the leafy

alleys, until they arrived at the great moated house, which they entered

by a little back door, from which a private stair led direct to the

Queen’s private apartment.

When the English guide threw open the door at the head of the stair,

Philip for the first time looked upon the woman who was to be his second

wife. Mary was slowly pacing the long passage or gallery lined with

tapestry, which constituted the room. Two gentlemen bore torches before

her, and with her were Gardiner and three or four other aged men and some

ladies-in-waiting. Philip hung back a few seconds whilst Egmont entered

the room. He, being known to the Queen, was greeted by her graciously;

and then, as she caught sight of the smart figure of her bridegroom, she

walked rapidly towards him, and kissed her hand before she grasped his.

Philip did the same, and, in the English fashion of the time, gallantly

kissed his elderly bride upon her lips. Mary was, as usual, splendidly

dressed, and her trim little figure must have looked stately enough in

her black velvet gown, cut high at the neck, her petticoat of frosted

silver, her coif of black velvet and gold, and wonderful girdle, collar,

and pendants of flashing gems. Her complexion was of that peculiar

transparency which usually accompanies red hair; her eyes, which were

also of ruddy brown, were almost without eyebrows, as her father’s had

been; and her somewhat austere face was wreathed now with smiles of

welcome to the man for whose coming she had yearned.

Leading him by the hand to a chair beside her own beneath the canopy,

she replied in French to his Spanish compliments. Whilst they were thus

seated in happy converse, the irrepressible Lord Admiral Howard broke in

with some of his usual suggestive jokes, not in the best taste according

to the ideas of to-day, but apparently accepted at that time as quite

permissible. Then, one by one, the Spanish nobles were brought forward

to kiss the Queen’s hand; and Philip, apparently finding the interview

somewhat tedious, as his knowledge of French was not extensive, proposed

that he should go into the adjoining apartment to greet the Queen’s

ladies. Mary insisted upon accompanying him. The ladies, in pairs, were

led forward to courtesy before the Prince, who, cap in hand, “in order

not to violate the custom of the country, kissed each of them on the lips

as they passed him.” The ceremony, probably, was not over-pleasant to

Mary, for when, the kissing being at an end, Philip suggested that it was

getting late and he had better retire, the Queen insisted upon leading

him to the canopy again for another chat.

Already the Spaniards began to nod and wink to each other to signify that

the Queen had fallen in love with her husband thus soon at first sight,

and it is quite probable that such was the case. Mary’s heart had been

starved for love all her life. There was none of her kin now with whom

she could unbend, and, with her crushing responsibility, it must have

been for her like a glimpse of heaven to feel that this good-looking,

wise, young man, fully her equal in rank, and her superior in power, was

in future to be kinsman, husband, and upholder in one. At last the time

came for parting, and in jesting mood grave Philip learnt of his bride

how to say “Good-night” in English. But alas! before he could reach the

ladies in the other room to say the newly learnt words to them, the

outlandish sounds had slipped out of his mind, and with much laughter

and smiles he had to go back and learn them again from the Queen.[55]

In conversation with Philip, the Queen’s governess (Mrs. Clarencius?)

expressed her joy at the coming union and thanks to God for letting her

live to see the day, though she regretted that she had not reared a

more beautiful bride for him;[56] and according to another eyewitness’s

account the Queen herself modestly thanked Philip for accepting so old

and ugly a wife. Generally speaking, however, Mary does not appear

to have produced an unfavourable impression upon the Spaniards. They

speak of her manner at this time as being gay and gracious, and her

clear complexion was much admired. Certainly Philip played his part to

perfection, whatever his private feelings may have been; and if Mary had

been a budding beauty of twenty instead of a faded old maid of nearly

forty, he could not have been a more gallant bridegroom in appearance

than he was: although to his bosom friend, Ruy Gomez, he confided a few

days after the wedding that he was prepared with resignation to drain the

chalice to the end which his marriage presented to him, since, as his

friend knew, he had not married for love, but to restore England to the

Church; and such an object made him lose sight of the Queen’s lack of

personal attractions.

Philip slept late the morning after his arrival at Winchester, and as

soon as he was out of bed the Queen’s tailor brought him two superb sets

of garments—one made of very rich white brocade profusely embroidered

with gold bugles and seed pearls, with diamonds for buttons, and the

other a similar suit in crimson. Philip went that day, Tuesday, to Mass

at the Cathedral, dressed in a purple velvet surcoat with silver fringe

and white satin doublet and trunks; and then after his private dinner,

went in great state to visit the Queen publicly. This time she received

him in the great hall of the Bishop’s palace, surrounded by the whole of

her Court and attended by fifty ladies—“none of them pretty”—dressed in

purple velvet. Mary received the Prince at the foot of her daïs, amidst

the fanfare of trumpets, and after kissing him affectionately led him

to the seat at her side. She must have looked as magnificent as fine

clothes could make her as she sat “in sweet converse” with him under her

canopy; for we are told that her purple velvet robe and cloth-of-gold

petticoat were all aglow with precious stones, and that coif, neck,

breast, and wrists, were stiff with pearls and diamonds. There were

special ambassadors, too, to receive and welcome: Figueroa, viceroy of

Naples, from the Emperor, others from the King of the Romans and his son,

from Venice, Florence, Poland, and Ferrara. But one was missing; for

Noailles, the Frenchman, for whom this marriage was a dire defeat, had

not been bidden to the feast; and in the intervals of his plotting to

raise trouble was writing to his baffled master ill-natured and distorted

reports, at second hand, of the proceedings.

The next day, Wednesday, 25th July, was the Feast of St. James, the

patron of Spain, and the noble cathedral of Winchester was aflame with

glowing colour. The ancient nave can never have seen so gorgeous a

company as was there assembled in the forenoon. All that pomp, skill, and

lavish expenditure could produce was there to do honour to an event which

all spectators felt was one of moving interest for the future of the

world; because it meant, so far as men might see, the secure fastening

upon the neck of England again of the yoke of the Papacy, which Henry

VIII. had shaken off, the stifling of the Reformation in Europe, and the

reduction of France to a secondary place amongst the nations. Philip,

in the white satin suit the Queen had sent him and with a regal mantle

of cloth of gold, led his dazzlingly clad bride up the lofty nave to an

elevated platform in the centre; and there Gardiner, with three attendant

Bishops, made them man and wife. To equalise their rank, it was announced

that the Viceroy Figueroa had brought formal instruments from the

Emperor, resigning to his son the Kingdoms of Naples and Jerusalem; and

this proclamation having been made, the King and Queen, with swords of

state borne before them by the Earls of Derby and Pembroke, descended to

the high altar, followed by fifty ladies in cloth of gold, to hear Mass,

during which, we are told, the Queen never removed her devout eyes from

the crucifix.

[Illustration: QUEEN MARY AT THE PERIOD OF HER MARRIAGE

FROM THE PAINTING BY ANTONIO MOR IN THE PRADO MUSEUM]

Rarely can a marriage have taken place prompted on both sides by such

elevation of spirit as this. The objects in view may be condemned now,

as they were condemned by many at the time, but there is no gainsaying

that, so far as Philip and Mary were concerned, they both believed they

were making private sacrifice for the public welfare. This feeling was

evident through the whole of the marriage negotiations and afterwards,

especially in Philip’s case, until it was seen that the plan had failed.

It is true that the famished heart of Mary grew to love her husband for

his own sake as time went on; but she loved him first and best because he

personified the force that was to make England Catholic, whilst she to

him meant the influence that was to enable him and his House to wield the

power of England against their enemy.

After the ceremony, the King and Queen walked in procession through an

immense crowd to the Bishop’s palace, where in the great hall was laid

the wedding banquet. All the courtly ceremony of saluting the royal

dishes as they were brought in, the genuflexions to the throne, the

trumpeting of minstrels, and the symbolic functions of the great officers

of State, aroused the admiration of the form-loving Spaniards; but their

hearts were raging with jealousy during the progress of the feast, for

their wounded pride did not fail to notice that Mary took precedence of

her husband everywhere, that she had a more stately seat, and that while

she ate off gold plate he was served on silver. They comforted themselves

with the idea that all this would be changed when the King had been

crowned; but that their Prince, the Emperor’s son and heir, should take

a second place to any one on earth filled them with anger, for they had

already begun to realise that they were not to enter into possession of

England as they had hoped. The richness and abundance they saw around

them made their disappointment the more bitter. Such a show of plate

on tables and sideboards as this they had never seen before.[57] All

the platters and dishes were of silver, and great buffets loaded with

plate stood at both ends of the great hall. The sideboard behind the

high table, at which Philip and Mary sat, with Gardiner far off at the

end, had upon it a hundred great pieces, “with a great gilt clock half

as high as a man, and a marble fountain with a rim of gold.” Before the

King and Queen stood Lords Pembroke and Strange with sword and mace;

the four services of thirty dishes each, far too much for the 158 noble

guests, were borne in to the sound of minstrelsy; and after the feast the

Earl of Arundel presented the ewer of water for the King’s hands, whilst

the Marquis of Winchester bore the napkin. The only Spaniard allowed to

serve the King was the Duke of Infantado’s son, Don Iñigo de Mendoza, as

cupbearer: “as for any of the Prince’s own stewards doing anything, such

a thing was never thought of, and not one of us took a wand in our own

hands, nor does it seem likely we ever shall, not even the controller.

They had far better turn us all out as vagabonds.”[58]

After the Queen had pledged her guests in a cup of wine, and a herald had

proclaimed Philip’s new style as King of England, France, Naples, and

Jerusalem, Prince of Spain, and Count of Flanders, the royal pair retired

to another chamber, accompanied by the English and Spanish nobles, where

the afternoon was passed in gallant conversation, though apparently with

some difficulty to the Spaniards, who were desirous of showing their

gallantry to the English ladies. “We had great trouble in making out

their meaning, except those who spoke Latin; so we have all resolved not

to give them any presents of gloves until we can understand them. The

gentlemen who speak the language are mostly very glad to find that we

Spaniards cannot do so.”

At the ball that wound up the entertainments, the same difficulty arising

from diverse customs stood in the way of intercourse, for the Spanish and

English dances were different, and the courtiers of the two nations could

not hit upon a common formula until Philip led his wife out to tread a

measure in the German fashion, which was known to both.

With every day that passed the discontent and jealousy grew. Philip

himself was charming, treating his wife in lover-like fashion, and full

of tactful affability to the English people. But the more conciliatory

Philip showed himself, the more his Spanish courtiers chafed. They

had found their position in England entirely different from what they

had expected; and their hopes of easily dominating the country were

fading rapidly. The men-at-arms and the bodyguard were still confined

to their ships at Portsmouth and Southampton, forbidden to land under

pain of death, and were becoming restive; the courtiers themselves and

their servants were ridiculed in the streets of Winchester, and even

waylaid and robbed if they ventured into the country; and yet they dared

not complain. “After this weary voyage these people wish to subject

us to some extent to their laws; for it is a new thing for them to

have Spaniards in the country, and they wish to feel secure.”[59] “We

Spaniards are miserable here, much worse than in Castile; and some say

that they would rather be in the barest stubble field of Toledo than

here in the groves of Amadis.” Another courtier writing from Winchester

says, “Great rogues infest the roads, and have robbed some of us, amongst

others, the chamberlain of Don Juan Pacheco, from whom they took 400

crowns and all his jewelry and plate. No trace can be found of the

property, nor of the four or five boxes missing from the King’s lodging;

though the Council is scouring the country for it. As for the friars,

they have had to be lodged in the college for their safety, and they

bitterly repent having come.”

It was difficult to please proud, disappointed people who were ready to

disapprove of everything; and when the Duchess of Alba came, three days

after the marriage, to join her husband, though Mary treated her with

almost royal honours, the haughty dame and her kin were in a chronic

state of indignation at the position she was obliged to occupy. An

amusing account of her first visit to Mary on the third day after the

wedding[60] does not suggest any lack of ceremony, though the lodgings

assigned to her may not have been so sumptuous as she thought fit. The

Duchess was conducted to the Bishop’s palace by the Countesses of

Pembroke and Kildare and the Earl of Bedford, and the Queen advanced

almost to the door of the presence chamber to meet her. The Duchess

knelt, and the Queen, failing in her efforts to raise her, courtesied

almost as low, and kissed her upon the mouth, which she usually did only

to those of the blood royal. She then led the Duchess to the daïs, and

seated herself upon the floor, inviting her guest to do likewise. But

the latter refused to sit on the floor until the Queen sat upon a chair.

This the Queen would not do, but sent for two stools as a compromise,

upon one of which she sat and invited the Duchess to take the other,

instead of which the Duchess then sat upon the floor, whereupon the

Queen left her stool and also sat upon the floor; and after an almost

interminable friendly wrangle, both ladies settled down on the stools,

their conversation being interpreted by the Marquis de las Navas, as

Mary, although she understood Spanish, did not speak it. When the Earl of

Derby was presented to the Duchess, she was horrified at his offering to

salute her in the usual English fashion by kissing her lips, and she drew

back from him in hot indignation, though hardly in time to avoid contact.

But as the lady haughtily expatiated to her own people afterwards upon

the uncouth fashion, she declared that the Earl had only just managed to

reach her cheek.

By the last day of July most of the English gentry had gone home for

the present, the Spaniards being distributed about Winchester and

Southampton, whilst the troops were only awaiting a fair wind to carry

them to Flanders. With a comparatively small suite the Queen and King set

forth on the 31st July for Basing House, fifteen miles away, the seat of

Lord Winchester, the Lord Treasurer, and so by short stages to Reading,

Windsor, and Richmond, where they remained until the 17th August. In the

meanwhile the impatience of the Spaniards at their position in England

grew intolerable, and the Duke of Medina-Celi, the premier noble, and

of royal descent, was the first to insist upon immediate release with

permission to join the Emperor in Flanders. Within a few days eighty

other hidalgos had demanded similar licence, and by the time Richmond

was reached the only Spanish nobles in attendance upon Philip were Alba,

Feria, Olivares, Pedro de Cordova, and three gentlemen, amongst whom was

the indefatigable letter-writer, Pedro Enriquez, whose narrative of the

events is so expressive of the lack of community between the two peoples.

Not only were the manners of the English ladies and their dresses

unbecoming in Spanish eyes, and the English food coarsely excessive, but

the political institutions of the country appeared to them, used as they

were to the absolute monarchy of Castile, to be almost Republican in

their hard limitation of the power of the Sovereign.

“Their Majesties” (writes Pedro Enriquez from Richmond) “are the happiest

married couple in the world, and are more in love with each other

than I can write here. The King never leaves her, and on the road he

rides by her side, helping her to mount and dismount. They sometimes

dine together in public, and on Feast days he accompanies her to Mass.

Although the Queen is not at all beautiful, for she is little, and thin

rather than stout, she is very red and white. She has no eyebrows,

she is a perfect saint, but she dresses very badly. The ladies here

all wear farthingales of coloured cloth, without silk, their outer

garments being of coloured damask, satin, or velvet, but very badly

made. Some of them wear velvet shoes, but most of them kid. They wear

black stockings, and even show their legs, some of them up to the knees,

at least whilst they are riding, for their skirts are not long enough.

They look quite indelicate when they are travelling thus, and even when

they are seated. They are not at all beautiful, nor are they graceful in

dancing, which with them consists simply of prancing and trotting.[61]

None of the Spanish gentlemen are in love with them or think anything

of them, nor they of the Spaniards. They are not worth troubling about,

or feasting much, or spending money upon, which is a good thing for the

Spaniards. All the rejoicing here consists of eating and drinking. The

Queen spends in food 300,000 ducats a year. The whole of the Lords of

the Council—thirteen of them—feed in the palace, as do the Officers of

State, the Lord Steward, the Lord Chamberlain, the Master of the Horse,

and the King’s English household with all their wives. The ladies and

their servants and the households of all the courtiers and two hundred

guards all live in the palace as well. Each officer has a cook to look

after his food in the Queen’s kitchens. There are eighteen kitchens, and

there is such a hurly-burly in them that each one is a veritable hell.

So that, notwithstanding the greatness of these palaces, ... and the

smallest of the four we have seen has more rooms and better ones than

the _Alcazar_ of Madrid, the crowds in them are so great as to be hardly

contained.... The ordinary consumption in the palace every day is from

eighty to a hundred sheep, with a dozen fat oxen and dozen and a half of

calves, besides vast quantities of game, poultry, venison, wild boar, and

rabbits; whilst, as for the beer, they drink more in the summer than the

river would hold in Valladolid. The ladies and some of the gentlemen put

sugar into their wine. The noise and bustle in the palace are dreadful.

And notwithstanding the vast number of rooms, they have never given to

the Duchess of Alba a chamber in the palace. They are the most ungrateful

people ever seen. Not even in the villages where we stay—and each one has

a village—do they give to the Duke and Duchess a house to themselves, or

the best one. They have fine trouble over their lodgings, as if it were

not enough to prevent them from serving in their offices without housing

them badly.”

Already the courtiers saw that the chance of Philip being allowed to

dominate England in consequence of his marriage was a slender one, but

the King himself, in his patient, prudent way, persevered. His personal

influence over his wife grew stronger every day, and when later she

gave him hopes of the birth of an heir, a new prospect for the future

seemed to open to him. The Londoners were as yet still almost in a panic

at the coming of the Spanish King, and the most exaggerated ideas with

regard to the number of armed men he would bring with him prevailed,

artfully fostered by Noailles and the Protestant party. On the eve of the

state entry of the royal pair into London the appearance of affairs was

unpromising enough, as may be seen by Pedro Enriquez’s letter dated on

the 17th August.

“The English cannot bear the sight of the Spaniards: they would rather

see the devil. They rob us, even in the towns, and on the road none of

us dare to stray for a couple of miles for fear of being robbed. A body

of Englishmen on one occasion plundered and beat no less than fifty

Spaniards. The Councillors know all about it, but they shut their eyes.

The number of thieves in the country is quite incredible. They go about

sometimes twenty together. There is neither justice nor fear of God....

For us there is no justice at all. The King commands us to raise no

questions, but whilst we are here to put up with everything and suffer

all their spite without a word. So, of course, they treat us badly and

despise us. When we have complained to Bribiesca (the magistrate) and to

the ambassadors, they tell us that it is to his Majesty’s interest that

we should overlook everything. This marriage will have been of small use

if this Queen does not have a child, of which I am not at all sure. When

we were in Castile they said that as soon as his Highness was King of

England we should be masters of France. The opposite is the case, for the

French are now stronger and more aggressive than ever in Flanders....

Kings in this country do not command more than if they were subjects. The

real rulers are the Councillors, who are not only masters of the country

but masters of the King as well. They are all lords, some enriched by the

plunder of the monasteries, some by inheritance, but they are much more

feared and reverenced than the Sovereign. They say now that they will not

let his Highness go unless the Queen and they please, as this realm is

quite big enough for a King without any others. Seeing what they are, I

should not wonder if they do it, ... for they know how hard pressed we

are in Flanders and are glad of it; ... they would not care a farthing

if Flanders were lost, and his Majesty with it. The King and Queen enter

London to-morrow, and I am sure we ought not to do so, seeing the way

they are treating the Spaniards already there. Not only do they not

provide lodgings for them, insulting them as if they were savages, but

they rob them in the inns. As for the friars who came with his Majesty,

they had better have stayed at home, for these English are so wicked and

godless that they even maltreat friars, and these dare not leave their

lodgings. Don Pedro de Cordova and his nephew, Don Antonio, are knights,

and the people wanted to strip them of their habits the other day, making

fun of them and asking them why they wore those crosses on their coats.”

On the day that this was written Philip and Mary and their Court in

state barges rowed from Richmond to Southwark, where they landed at the

Bishop of Winchester’s house, and after killing a fat buck in Southwark

Park, slept at the palace which stood upon the site of the present

London Bridge Station, in order to start betimes in the morning of the

next day across London Bridge, and so through the capital to Whitehall.

All the fifty gibbets in the streets upon which Wyatt’s men had hanged

were cleared away; the heads of the noble malefactors on the spikes at

the Bridge-foot were no longer to be seen. All that paint and gilt and

pageantry and pleasant looks could do to make the dour Londoners think

well of the Queen’s Consort was done. Gog and Magog in new suits stood

at the drawbridge that spanned the space from London Bridge end to the

Southwark shore. Triumphs stood at the street corners, one of the first,

that in Gracechurch Street, containing the maladroit statue of Henry

VIII. with the Bible labelled _Verbum Dei_ in his hand, that so much

moved Bishop Gardiner’s wrath.[62] Past kneeling aldermen and velvet-clad

guildsmen, and with a great train of splendid courtiers, Philip and his

English wife rode through the silent crowds, whilst the guns of the

White Tower thundered what was at the same time a salute to the King

and a warning to the people. The official greetings were, as usual,

extravagantly fulsome. That borne by Gog and Magog is thus translated—

“O Noble Prince, sole hope of Cæsar’s side,

By God appointed all the world to guide,

Right harteley welcome art thou to our land.

The archer Britayne yieldeth thee her hand;

And noble England openeth her bosom

Of hartie affection for to bid thee welcome:

But chiefly London doth her love vouchsafe,

Rejoicing that her Philip has come safe.

She seeith her citizens love thee on each side

And trusts they shall be happy of such a guide,

And al do thinke that thou art sent to their citie

By th’ only means of God’s paternal pitie,

So that their minde, voice, study, power and will,

Is only set to love thee, Philip, still”—[63]

and from Gracechurch to Whitehall tributes in Latin verse even more

eulogistic than this greeted the man whose very presence the great mass

of the people had been taught to dread. All the Philips that ever lived

were dwarfed, he was told, by such a paragon of excellence as himself;

Orpheus had not such power to move as by his eloquence could this

reticent, mumbling Philip, who spoke but little of any language but his

own.

“In like case now, thy grace of speech so franke,

Doth comfort us whose minds afore were bleak

And therefore England giveth thee harty thanke

Whose chiefest joy is to hear thee Philip speke.”[64]

Mary herself could see no evil in her husband, and we are told that she

was highly gratified at all this dithyrambic praise of him. As they

dismounted at Whitehall Gate, and she led him, all smiles, into the great

presence chamber, Mary and Philip seemed to onlookers an ideally happy

couple, notwithstanding the difference in their ages. Ruy Gomez, writing

on the 24th August to Eraso in Spain, says: “The King entertains the

Queen excellently, and well knows how to pass over what is not attractive

in her for the sensibility of the flesh. He keeps her so pleased that

verily when they were together the other day alone she almost made love

to him and he answered in the same fashion. As for these gentlemen

(_i.e._, the English nobles), his behaviour towards them is such that

they themselves confess that they never yet had a King in England who so

soon won the hearts of all men.”[65]

Philip, indeed, had by his tact and amiability already begun to break

down the hatred and distrust that had heralded his approach. At the

period of the state entry into London, a diarist writing in the Tower

of London no doubt only reflected the general feeling of apprehension

when he wrote: “At this time there were so many Spaniards in London;

that a man should have met in the street for one Englishman about four

Spaniards, to the great discomfort of the English nation. The Halls

(_i.e._, of the City companies) taken up for the Spaniards.”[66] In

actual fact the number of Spanish servants and followers left to Philip

at the time was very few—less than a dozen noblemen with their respective

households, probably not more than two or three hundred people at

most; and as time wore on, and it was seen that no attempt was made by

Philip and his countrymen to interfere with the English, the influence

of the King personally being recognised as invariably on the side of

conciliation, a more equable frame of mind became general. News had come

that the Emperor and his son had detained Cardinal Pole on the way to

England, and had vetoed the extreme Papal policy with which he had at

first been entrusted; and it was seen also that Mary herself, as well as

her husband, assumed a desire to avoid drawing England into hostility

with France, which was the great fear of the English people.

Noailles had not been bidden to the marriage, and had only been coldly

and tardily invited to the state entry, which invitation he refused.

But on the 21st August, whilst the Queen was at Whitehall, the French

ambassador could hardly avoid offering some form of congratulation, for

it was of the highest importance that England should not be driven to

espouse the Emperor’s war. Noailles was as grudging as possible in his

felicitations, dryly commenting upon the fact that he had not been asked

to the wedding, but hoped that it would not interfere with the friendship

between England and France. Mary was most emphatic in her assurance that

the peace would never be broken on her side, and as the ambassador left

the Queen’s presence, somewhat reassured, he turned to Bishop Gardiner,

who was conducting him, and said that if there was no objection he would

like to salute Philip also. The Bishop was delighted, and conducted

Noailles at once to the King, to whom the ambassador expressed a hope

that the peace which had existed so long between England and France would

not be imperilled by the coming of a Spanish Consort to England. He,

for his part, would do his best to prevent any rupture. Philip called

Gardiner to him and, speaking in Latin, told him to reply to Noailles,

that although he understood French he did not speak it. “He had sworn,”

he said, “both before and after his arrival in England, to maintain all

the friendships and alliances existing between this and other countries,

and he would keep his word faithfully. For his part the peace should not

be broken so long it served the interests of England.”[67]

Noailles partly suspected what to us now is clear, namely, that all this

suavity and tolerance on the part of the Prince of the proudest nation

on earth was only a part of the deep-laid plan of the Emperor to obtain

for his son the full control of English policy that the marriage treaty

had withheld from him. Mary probably suspected this as little as any one.

Her position was extremely difficult. She was by this time really in

love with her husband, and was deeply desirous of pleasing him; she was

anxious for the aggrandisement of Spain, which would mean, she thought,

the triumph of the Church over heresy in Europe, and the consolidation

of her own throne. But she knew that her people dreaded above all things

being dragged into a war with their nearest neighbour in a quarrel which

did not concern them: she was an English Queen determined, so far as

in her lay, to govern for the benefit of her country, and to her the

only road to safety seemed to strive her hardest to bring about a peace

between the two antagonists before England was involved in the war. Pole

had also been entrusted by the Pope with the mission of pacifying the

Emperor and Henry II., and was as earnest in his efforts to do so as was

Mary herself. From Brussels, where he had been kept chafing impotently,

he had gone to Paris on his mission of peace, but the French arms were

on the whole in the ascendant at the time, and he returned to Flanders

unsuccessful.[68]

These efforts of Mary, Pole, and Gardiner, to reconcile France and Spain,

received no active help from Philip and his father. The object of the

Emperor was to cripple France by the aid of England, not to patch up

another temporary peace with her, and the whole tendency of the Imperial

policy was to obtain complete control over England as the first step

to this principal object. The Emperor had always used religion when

necessary as an instrument for political ends, and it is not surprising

that the English Catholic Churchmen should regard his present attitude

towards the Catholic party as inconsistent. Gardiner, Pole, Bonner, and

the rest of them, who had never yearned for the Spanish connection,

thought, perhaps correctly, that they could have restored England to

the Church more speedily and safely if they had been unencumbered by

the unpopular marriage. Mary, for whom the question was complicated by

considerations of her personal maintenance upon the throne, thought

otherwise, and wisely the Churchmen had made the best of the position.

But they had no intention, if they could help it, of slackening in their

own purpose, or of allowing the restoration of their faith in England to

be retarded or imperilled for the political interests of the Emperor; and

the harsh action of Bonner particularly, supported as it was by Gardiner,

caused bitter complaints amongst the English people, and something

approaching dismay in the Spanish party of Mary’s Council.

Throughout the home and eastern countries, where Protestantism was

strong, the action of the priests gave rise to constant brawls, the

actors of which were unfortunately not proceeded against by the civil

authorities but by ecclesiastics on the charge of heresy. Philip,

by means of his friends on the Council, did his best to discourage

these tactics, for which he saw he would unjustly have to suffer the

unpopularity. Whilst Philip and his wife were living at Hampton Court, in

September, there was a wild rumour in London that twelve thousand Spanish

troops were on their way to land in England and seize the Crown,[69] and

almost simultaneously people indignantly whispered that the Archbishopric

of Canterbury was to be given to a Spanish friar. The most extravagant

false news, too, was current that many leading noblemen and Councillors

had been proclaimed traitors, amongst them Pembroke, Shrewsbury,

Westmorland; that Dr. Petre had been dismissed from the Council; that the

Marquis of Winchester had been forced to give Basing House to the Queen;

that the King and Queen, in violation of the ordinary English traditions,

had become inaccessible to the lieges;[70] and much else of the same

sort, evidently designed to keep up the irritation against the Spanish

Consort, who, for his part, was using every means to ingratiate himself

with his poor faded wife[71] and her suspicious subjects.

It is obvious that, so far as religion alone was concerned, the great

majority of English people would have been ready without demur to

accept Catholicism again if it had come without the foreign mark upon

it, and the moderative policy of the Emperor was dictated solely by the

political aim of conciliating the minority, who it was thought would

be most strongly opposed to Spanish influence. For this the Churchmen

cared nothing, whilst the Protestants and French party, instead of

being conciliated by the King’s attitude, naturally seized upon the

ecclesiastical prosecutions, which he deprecated, still further to

discredit him. Pole in the meanwhile was growing restive. He was a man

of high and unselfish aims, a true Catholic as well as a true Englishman,

and he resented his exclusion from his own country at the bidding of a

foreign potentate after his long exile for the cause of his faith. His

letters of exhortation to Mary and to Philip are throughout inspired by

the Churchman’s zeal, and not infrequently by scorn of the opportunist

policy which was, in his view, hampering the prompt and complete return

of his country to the Church.[72]

Almost from Mary’s accession Cardinal Pole had been held back from his

mission by the action of the Emperor, thanks mainly to the complaisancy

of the new Pope Julius III. The great difficulty was the question of

the restitution of the Church property which had been confiscated in

the previous reigns. There were few noble courtly families in England

which had not indeed been enriched from this source; and the Emperor

expressed his opinion to Pole that the English people cared neither

for one form of faith or the other, so long as they could keep their

property.[73] “Pole,” said the Venetian ambassador at Brussels, “might

beg for permission to go to England for ten thousand years without avail,

unless he went with the briefs confirming the alienation of the Church

properties: for if the Church insists upon reclaiming them disorder will

prevail throughout the country.”

At last the Cardinal had to accept the inevitable, not without some

bitterness of heart,[74] and steps were taken in the Parliament, which

met at Westminster early in November, to reverse the act of attainder

against him. His coming was regarded in some sense by the country as

that of a restraining force upon the dreaded Spanish influence in the

English Councils. He was known to be single-minded in his attachment

both to the Church and to England. He was not ambitious, and had nothing

to gain by serving as a tool for anti-English forces, whilst his rank,

his ability, and his good repute promised that his authority would be

great, even if necessary, against the foreign King-Consort. On the 5th

November, 1554, a deputation was despatched by Mary, consisting of Lords

Paget and Hastings and Sir William Cecil, to invite Pole to England, not

ostensibly as Legate, but as Cardinal and ambassador, on condition that

the Pope would consent to the present owners of the ecclesiastical lands

being left unmolested. Renard had already been sent over to Flanders to

persuade Pole of the need for this proviso, and had returned successful.

The Cardinal was ready, and rejoiced greatly when Sir John Mason, the

English ambassador, told him the news; though, “Marry, quoth he, you know

I am at this present, as it were, in another’s ward [keeping].—I must

depart when it please the Emperor, who is not at all times to be spoken

withal. I have already one sent to M. d’Arras (_i.e._, Granvelle) to be

my mean to have access to his Majesty to take my leave.... Marry, the

truth is that they have had as yet no news out of England of the Queen’s

determination.”[75] Mason assured the Cardinal that it was all settled

and that the embassy named had been despatched to fetch him.

This news Mason also carried to the Emperor, who was better and brighter

than he had been for years, for he knew that Pole would now go only to

carry out his policy, so far as regarded restitution, and he was already

full of hope that a child was to be born to Philip and Mary. That,

indeed, would be to fix the hand of Spain upon England for at least long

enough for his great purpose to be effected. In answer to an inquiry

as to the Queen’s state, somewhat too coarsely worded to be quoted

verbatim here, Mason was able on this occasion to inform the Emperor

that: “I understand to my great joy and comfort that her garments wax

very strait.” “I never doubted, quoth the Emperor, of the matter; but

that God, who had for her wrought so many miracles, could make the same

perfect by assisting nature to His good and most desired work. And I

warrant it shall be, quoth he, a man child. Be it man or woman, quoth I,

welcome shall it be: for by that shall we come to some certainty, to whom

God shall appoint by succession the government of our State.... Doubt

not, quoth he, God will provide both with fruit and otherwise: so as I

trust to see yet that realm to return to a great piece of that surety and

estimation that I have seen it in my time.”[76] Here, indeed, the wish

was father to the thought. For some weeks past it had been whispered at

Hampton Court that the Queen was with child, though Mary herself refused

to confirm it or otherwise; but to the Spanish party such a fact was

all-important, and the Emperor’s jubilation was heart-felt. Noailles,

on the other hand, scoffed incredulously at what he asserted was only a

conspiracy to cheat the English people into giving Philip greater power

and importance in the country, and he quotes as an instance of the way in

which the hope was regarded by English people, a scurrilous placard on

the subject which, he says, was nailed to the door of Whitehall Palace.

Cardinal Pole, already ailing and elderly, was carried in his litter

with great ecclesiastical state from Brussels to Calais, and crossed the

Channel as soon as news reached him that the Parliament at Westminster

had reversed his attainder. Travelling by road, as usual, from Dover

to Gravesend, he found awaiting him at the latter port King Philip’s

own state barge to convey him to Westminster. On his way to London,

on Saturday, 24th November, he was met by all the English Catholic

Bishops and the Lords of the Council in their barges, and then, leading

the imposing procession with uplifted crosier before him, the English

Cardinal, in his rochet, tippet, and scarlet hat, passed up the London

river to the palace of his royal ancestors.

King Philip was at dinner at Whitehall when news came to him that the

Cardinal’s barge had shot the dangerous rapids formed by the narrow

arches of London Bridge. Rising from the table at once the King descended

to the landing-stage of the Palace as the state barge was approaching

it. With uncovered head and respectful mien Philip greeted the great

English Churchman with more honour than he might have shown to any

sovereign prince, leading him on his right hand through the alleys and

galleries to the entrance to the hall, where at the head of the stairs

stood Queen Mary. Making a profound obeisance to the huge uplifted cross

which preceded her husband and Pole, she advanced to meet them, Pole

kneeling at her approach. Curtseying low and kissing her kinsman the

Queen assisted him to rise, and then between him and her husband she led

the way to the canopy, where for half an hour in polyglot converse, for

Pole had lost some of his English, and Philip knew little Italian, Mary

must have been for once in her life happy.[77]

Nothing could exceed the honour shown by the Sovereigns to Pole, for it

was Philip’s policy to win him over entirely to his side, and Mary was

overjoyed at the prospect of the full reconciliation of her country with

the Papacy on conditions that seemed to promise general harmony. The

people, too, who knew Pole’s history, welcomed him warmly. He, like Mary

herself, had been unjustly used, and his family judicially murdered; he

was virtuous, upright, and honest,[78] and above all, in the eyes of the

populace, he represented an English force strong enough to champion the

cause of his countrymen, if needs be, against the Spanish faction. Pole

was lodged at Lambeth Palace, from which the unhappy Cranmer had been

sent to the Tower, and on the day of the Cardinal’s arrival in London,

Mary offered him the primacy, an offer which Pole for the moment put

aside until, as he said, he had done his errand as papal ambassador.

For the next three days Pole and the Sovereigns were closeted for hours

together settling the preliminaries for the formal return of England to

the papal fold, and Philip himself on one occasion, breaking through all

the traditions of his house, crossed alone to Lambeth and remained with

Pole for the entire afternoon.

[Illustration: CARDINAL REGINALD POLE, PAPAL LEGATE AND ARCHBISHOP OF

CANTERBURY

AFTER A PAINTING BY SEBASTIANO DEL PIOMBO]

At length, on Wednesday, 28th November, all was ready, and in the great

hall of the Palace the assembled Lords and Commons were gathered in the

presence of the Queen and King to receive the Pope’s representative.

Outside the people were still saying—to the horror of the Spanish

listeners—that the Pope was only a man, after all, and could do no more

than other men[79]; but here, in Mary’s Parliament, no inharmonious note

was sounded, as the Lord Chancellor, Bishop Gardiner, rose and introduced

the Cardinal as the messenger from the Apostolic Pontiff. Pole, speaking

from the second stage of the daïs just beyond the canopy, begged in

Latin permission of the Queen to address the assembly in English; which

granted, he spoke first feelingly of his long unjust exile and the

persecution of his House, his attachment to the land of his birth through

all his trouble, and then he launched into an eloquent appeal for the

reunion of England to the Church. He praised the Emperor for his sturdy

defence of orthodoxy; but said that for some inscrutable reason God had

not allowed him to achieve his end. “But,” continued Pole, “I can well

compare him [_i.e._, the Emperor] to David, whiche thoughe he were a

manne elected of God, yet for that he was contaminate with bloode and war

could not builde the temple of Jerusalem, but left the finishing thereof

to his son Solomon, which was _Rex pacificus_. So may it be thoughte

that the appeasing of controversies of religion in Christendom is not

appointed to this Emperor but rather to his son who shal perfourme the

building that his father hath begun.”[80]

When the long and moving extempore speech was finished, the Queen desired

Gardiner to express her thanks and congratulations to the Cardinal, and

to desire Parliament to consider deeply his weighty words. On that very

day, as Noailles insisted for the purpose of forwarding Pole’s mission,

official letters were despatched in the Queen’s name ordering that

thanksgiving and rogations should be offered in all the churches for her

pregnancy, now openly acknowledged. Whatever the malicious Frenchman

may have said, it is quite incredible that Mary herself did not believe

the assertion of her condition, nor is it likely that Philip thought

otherwise, seeing the assurances which, even in private letters, he gave

to his father on the subject.[81] The Queen’s subjects, too, rejoiced

exceedingly at the news, for a disputed succession seemed to portend

if Mary died childless. But, in any case, the announcement was most

opportune both for the success of Pole’s mission, and for another mission

to be mentioned presently, which was nearer the Emperor’s heart, and he

had entrusted secretly to Paget when he had gone to Flanders to escort

Pole to England.

On Thursday, 29th November, 1554, during the discussion of the

ecclesiastical question in the House of Lords, the lay peers roundly

blamed the Bishops for all the schism and trouble that had occurred. If

they had not been poltroons, and had refused to humour King Henry in his

repudiation of his wife[82] and his defiance of the Holy See all would

have been well, said the laymen; but recriminations apart, both Lords and

Commons promptly adopted, almost unanimously, a resolution repealing the

acts that separated England from the Papacy, and authorising a commission

of twenty-four members of both Houses to beg the Queen’s approval of the

resolution, and to present to the papal ambassador the submission of the

nation to the head of the universal Church, begging for absolution and

readmittance to the fold. The next day, St. Andrew’s Day, 30th November,

the formal ceremony was held in the Palace of Whitehall. That morning

Philip had gone to Mass at Westminster Abbey in state with 100 German,

100 Spanish, and English guards, all in new uniforms, 50 Flemish archers,

and 150 smartly-clad pages, as if to mark the occasion as one of special

significance, and at five o’clock in the afternoon the Cardinal in his

pontifical vestments rowed across from Lambeth, the King receiving him at

the foot of the Palace stairs. In the presence chamber the Commissioners

of Parliament presented their petition to the Sovereigns through Lord

Chancellor Gardiner. Then the King and Queen rose, and crossing to

the Cardinal’s chair, in attitude of supplication asked him as the

Pope’s ambassador to receive the submission of England; after which

the Sovereigns, having returned to their thrones, Pole’s powers from

the Pope were read, and the Cardinal in an English discourse heartily

welcomed the strayed sheep into the fold again.[83] Kneeling, the whole

assembly received absolution and the apostolic blessing, and England was

recognised as a Catholic country again.

To spectators of the scene, and especially to Spaniards, this seemed to

be an occurrence which for importance surpassed all others of the time.

Spain burst out into uncontrollable rejoicing, and Philip, the man who

his countrymen thought had performed this miracle by God’s mercy, was

more revered than ever. Now indeed, with the almost certainty of a son to

be born and to succeed as King of a Catholic England in close union with

Spain, the Frenchmen must rest content with a secondary place and the

House of Burgundy-Habsburg must lead. This view, to some extent, was one

that it suited Philip himself to promote in England, and he left no stone

unturned to impress upon his wife’s subjects the profound significance of

the formal reconciliation of the country to the Papacy; a power which,

when it had suited his father and himself, they had flouted again and

again, and which, within a year under the new Pope, Paul IV., was to

denounce them both with invective more bitter than was applied to the

worst of heretics.

On the 2nd December, in great state, Philip rode along Fleet Street and

up Ludgate Hill to St. Paul’s, accompanied by the whole Court. From

Lambeth Pole had gone by water to Paul’s Wharf, and thence in procession

with crosses, banners, and censers to the Cathedral, where he awaited

the King’s coming with the Lord Mayor and Corporation of London. Side by

side the King and Cardinal, with a glittering train, passed up the nave

and out at the east end to St. Paul’s Cross, where, we are told, “with

all the Lords of the Council and with such an audience of people as was

never seen in that place before,”[84] fiery Gardiner preached a sermon

upon the words of St. Paul, “Brethren, know ye, that it is time we arose

from slumber”; in which he exhorted his hearers to shake off the evil

dream of the past and salute the new dawn. But not exhortation alone

occupied Gardiner’s oration, for he hinted that all the ruin and misery

that England had suffered, “all the abominable heresies, synistrate and

erroneous opinions, tumults and insurrections,” were owing to the “lack

of restraint” that had permitted such evils without due punishment. For,

once more into the hands of the priests, the rod had been delivered,

and Gardiner had no mind that it should lie idle. The famous sermon was

a threat to England, and the people who had spoken lightly of the Pope

for the last twenty years looked askance not only at the Churchman who

threatened, but at King Philip, whose furthest thought it was for the

moment to light the fires of religious persecution in the country, the

enmity and suspicion of which he was striving to lull to rest.

We are told by Philip’s watchful gentleman-in-waiting that he enjoyed

his dinner well after Gardiner’s sermon, but the gentleman-in-waiting

saw the surface only. Philip was glad to have England back again

within the fold, though that was not the end, but the means for him.

Two days afterwards the long-delayed Spanish cane tourney, perhaps the

only one ever held in England, was celebrated with great pomp in the

tiltyard at Whitehall. For many weeks the bands of Spanish horsemen had

been rehearsing the mimic battle, in which opposing forces dressed in

splendid uniforms prance and caracol to within a few yards of each other

at full speed, and then, launching cane javelins at their antagonists,

wheel suddenly away. The Queen and her ladies were dressed in cloth of

gold with solid sheet-gold coifs, all at the King’s expense, and the

Queen must have been a blaze of magnificence in her rich brocade, her

overgarment of crimson velvet lined with fur, and her dress covered

entirely with precious stones and sheet gold spangles. Twelve thousand

people, we are told, looked on, as band after band of Spaniards pranced

into the arena, some in white velvet and gold, some in blue and silver,

some in black and gold; and a great ball and supper wound up the

entertainment.

Three weeks later, the visit of Philip’s heroic young cousin, Emmanuel

Philibert of Savoy, was an occasion for further festivities of the

same sort, although the occasion of his coming was in itself far from

a festive one. The Prince was in command of the Emperor’s army, but in

the clash of great empires he feared that his own smaller interests were

going to the wall, as indeed they were. The war had prevented him from

accepting the invitation to Philip’s wedding; but in September, 1554, he

had sent an embassy headed by Count Langosco to London to pray Philip to

intercede with the Emperor for him. Much of his paternal territory was

occupied by the French; he had no money even to pay the garrisons of

Nice and the other fortresses that remained to him, and he foresaw the

possibility that when France and the Emperor made peace Savoy might be

left in the hands of the former. Philip was amiable but indefinite in his

reception of Savoy’s embassy in London. A commission was sent to invest

the Duke with the Order of the Garter, and kind assurances of regard were

exchanged, but Savoy wanted more than that, and when his troops were in

winter quarters he managed with difficulty to raise enough money to run

over personally, in the last days of the year 1554, to see his cousin

Philip and his English wife for the purpose of urging his own suit. It

is usually assumed that the primary object of his visit was to offer his

hand to Princess Elizabeth, but such was not the case.[85] His handsome

presence and the fame of his military exploits made him an attractive

guest at Mary’s Court, and both the King and Queen were very favourably

impressed by him, Philip, indeed, to a great extent acceding to the

demands that brought him to London.

The idea of his marriage with Elizabeth appears first to have come

from some of his Piedmontese subjects, naturally anxious that the

succession to his ancient throne should be secured. Writing from

London in September, 1554, one of his ambassadors says that if he were

authorised to do so, he would propose the match to King Philip. In any

case, some communication seemed to have passed between Philip and the

Savoy ambassadors on the subject, and when Emmanuel Philibert arrived

in London early in January, the question was further discussed. It was

a match that would have suited Philip admirably, and he was prompt to

adopt the idea. Emmanuel Philibert himself was in no mood for wooing, for

the French had just captured another of his fortresses, Ivrea, and it

seemed to him politic to keep himself free to marry a French princess,

if necessary, as the price of his restoration to his domains. Nor were

the obstacles in England to his marriage with Elizabeth slight. To begin

with, the Queen was opposed to her sister’s marriage at all without

the consent of Parliament, which would certainly refuse to authorise a

foreign match for the Princess, and especially to a dispossessed Prince

under the influence of the Emperor. Nor did the Queen wish to give to

Elizabeth the additional importance and power which would accrue to

her from her marriage with a sovereign. Philip, if we are to believe

Michaeli, was somewhat afraid of his wife, and did not dare to press

her too far in the matter “as she had a terrible and obstinate temper.”

To the King’s Confessor, therefore, was entrusted the task of winning

over Mary. After much trouble he persuaded her so far as to get her to

promise to speak to the King about it the next evening. This she did

not do, and it was believed that Pole had in the interval dissuaded

her. The opposition from Elizabeth was even more decided. She was quite

resolved, she said, neither to marry nor to leave England. On the part of

Savoy also the terms proposed by Philip were held to be quite out of the

question, including as they did the cession to Spain of the fortresses

of Nice and Villafranca, in case any children were born to Emmanuel

Philibert and Elizabeth. It will be seen, therefore, that at this time

the match was never probable, and though Savoy was lodged in Elizabeth’s

palace, Somerset House in the Strand, the Princess herself was not

even brought from her seclusion at Woodstock to see him.[86] Emmanuel

Philibert, impatient to be gone, left England, though not empty-handed,

to resume his turbulent career after a three weeks’ stay.

Philip had to a great extent overcome the personal unpopularity which

at his first coming he had to face; but the fear of the people that,

sooner or later, England would be dragged by the Imperialists into

war with France was stronger than ever, and the Spanish followers of

the King got on no better than before with the English. One of the

gentlemen-in-waiting writes at this time, “We are in a pleasant land, but

amongst the worst people in the world, at least of Christian nations,

for these English people are terrible enemies of Spain. It is easy to

see that by the many serious quarrels that take place between us and

them. Hardly a day passes without a slashing match in the Palace between

Englishmen and Spaniards, and many have been killed on both sides. Only

last week, in consequence of a fight, they hanged three Englishmen and a

Spaniard, and every day something of the sort happens.... We Spaniards

go about amongst these English people like fools, for they are such

barbarians that they do not understand what we say, nor we them. They

will not crown our Prince, although he is a King now, nor will they

acknowledge him as their superior. They say that he only came to help to

rule the country and to beget a child, and that as soon as the Queen has

children he can go back to Spain. God send that it may be soon, for he

would be glad enough, and we infinitely more so, to get away from such

barbarous folk.”[87] To add to the tribulation of these disappointed

courtiers, they found prices in England ten times higher than those they

were used to, and they were almost ruined by their necessary expenses,

besides being robbed, even of their cloaks, if they ventured out after

dark in London.

To their chagrin, too, they saw great sums of Spanish money, sorely

needed, they knew, for the Emperor’s wars, being squandered upon English

purposes. Gresham had been allowed by the Emperor to borrow for Mary

and export from Spain £100,000, an enormous sum in those days, and

one which, Gresham wrote, was terribly wanted in the country itself.

“I am not abell,” he wrote, “with my pen to set forthe unto you the

greate scarsity that is now through all Spayne....” And he adds later,

“I fere that I shall be the occasione they shuld all play bankrupt,”

since one great bank had already suspended payment in consequence of

his operations.[88] Apart from this, Philip’s own guard carried through

London to the Tower 97 chests of silver, estimated to contain £50,000

for his own expenditure,[89] whilst Eraso brought 250,000 crowns to

England in January, 1555, and the gentleman-in-waiting says that not only

had the King guaranteed a debt of the Queen’s of 250,000 ducats, but he

had distributed in bribes and pensions to the Councillors and courtiers

30,000 ducats a year.

At length, with all these blandishments and preparations, the Emperor and

Philip thought after the submission of Parliament to the Pope, that the

time had come when they might endeavour to reap the harvest. Paget, in

his interview with the Emperor in Brussels, had been urged to represent

to his colleagues on the English Council that the co-operation of their

country in his war against the French would be of immense benefit to

Christendom, and in a long memorandum sent by Renard to Philip during

the session of Parliament, he discussed the various pretexts upon which

a war between England and France might be precipitated. But Bonner’s

harsh and violent persecution disturbed men’s minds. A great conspiracy

was discovered in the Eastern Counties in which some of the Councillors

were suspected of being implicated, the main object being the marriage

and elevation to the throne of Courtenay and Elizabeth; and although

Parliament passed an Act recognising Philip as guardian of his expected

heir in case of the Queen’s death, his own wish to be appointed Regent in

the event of her death without children, and his present recognition and

coronation as King, were seen to be unrealisable in the state of public

feeling, and Parliament was dissolved on the 16th January Still less was

it possible to urge seriously that England should declare war against

France, and, thanks to the efforts of Mary and Pole, another attempt was

made to bring about peace by means of a Congress meeting at Calais.

So far from going to war for the Spaniards, the people, indeed, were

increasingly inclined to war against them. King Philip’s countrymen,

moreover, were far from sharing or even understanding his tolerant

affability in the face of the unjust suspicion and insults to which they

were daily subjected. Affrays between them and the Londoners were more

frequent than ever, and although the hanging and mutilation of offenders

against the peace, English and Spanish, was frequent, and Philip himself

threatened dire punishment to any of his suite who drew a knife or shared

in a brawl, the national hatred was so strong that no penalties could

stop the disorders. In February, 1555, Renard wrote to the Emperor in an

alarming strain. He prayed most earnestly to be allowed to return home

when King Philip went to Flanders, which he then intended to do in a

few weeks. He was certain, he said, that he (Renard) would be murdered

the moment the King’s back was turned. The heretics were cursing him

for having been the cause of bringing the Papists back to England, the

French party were vowing vengeance against him for introducing the hated

Spaniards to domineer over free Englishmen, the Earl of Arundel had

sworn to be avenged upon him for frustrating his plan to marry his son

to Princess Elizabeth, and the Duke of Northumberland’s sons had already

hired four assassins to kill him.[90]

In vain Philip urged moderation in the prosecution of heresy, and one

of his chaplains, Alfonso de Castro, publicly in an outspoken sermon

denounced the burning of heretics as opposed to the true spirit of

Christ. But Bonner and Gardiner pursued their stern way, and most of the

odium of their proceedings fell upon the King and his countrymen. The

Queen, herself in a fool’s paradise of hope and joy, thought of nothing

but the coming glory of maternity. The country itself was awaiting the

event as one that was to decide, so far as could be seen, its future

fate. Ominous mutterings of the fell bonfires that had already begun in

Smithfield were common enough, and the factions in the Eastern Counties

were as active as ever beneath the surface, notwithstanding their

ruthless suppression. The English exiles in France were being made much

of in the Court of Henry II., and loaded with favours, whilst Noailles

in London kept in close touch with the elements of discontent at home.

In the circumstances Philip’s intention to obey his father’s summons to

Flanders soon after the dissolution of Parliament had to be postponed, at

least until the expected confinement of the Queen in April had cleared

the air and settled men’s minds.

In the meanwhile Philip continued to do his best to maintain his

popularity, counselling prudence to the zealous bishops, lavishing

money on courtiers, interceding gently for Elizabeth and Courtenay, and

taking active part in the showy military exercises which the English

loved, but which for him had no attraction.[91] In March, Courtenay

from his prison at Fotheringham wrote to Philip, saying that, as by the

King’s intercession with the Queen so many persons had been released, he

prayed for his mediation in his favour, very submissively beseeching his

protection and that he would deign to accept his service. This happened

at the very time that the new conspiracy was discovered, but Courtenay

was almost as dangerous in an English prison as free, and, thanks to

Pole’s support of Philip’s efforts, and on the understanding that he

would accompany the English embassy to Flanders and Rome, Courtenay was

summoned to Court and graciously received by the Queen and her husband.

Much more important, and doubtless intended to be so by Philip, was his

successful intercession for Elizabeth. The Princess, as we have seen,

was not brought to London to receive the visit of her would-be suitor,

the Duke of Savoy, in January; for her own resistance to the match, and

Mary’s reluctance to restore her fully in blood, which would have been

necessary if her marriage with Savoy was to serve Spanish ends, had

nipped that plan in the bud. But now, in April, to the great delight and

surprise of the people, the Queen’s sister was summoned with graciousness

from her seclusion at Woodstock to the Palace of Whitehall. Michaeli,

who was a keen observer, attributes her release and presence at Court

before the expected confinement of the Queen to the fear of the Spanish

party that in case of Mary’s death “the King’s safety would depend more

upon her than upon any other person; not only from his hope of being

able, with the help of the nobles here whom he has gained by rewards, to

succeed to the Kingdom by marrying her, it being not improbable that she

herself will incline that way, as she knows his behaviour and character;

but even should she and the country refuse this, yet by her presence, she

being in his power, he would be able to secure himself against any rising

against him and his followers, and they might by her means get away

safely.”[92]

Elizabeth came very quietly to Hampton Court late in April, and was

lodged in the apartment which the Duke of Alba had recently vacated.

It is evident that her presence was desired by Philip more for his own

security than for the sake of the Princess, as she only saw her sister

and Philip in strict privacy on two or three occasions. Whilst in this

close seclusion Elizabeth had at least one long private interview with

Philip alone at the Queen’s request, his object evidently being to induce

the Princess to confess her fault and throw herself upon her sister’s

clemency. But Elizabeth was wary and would not commit herself. When a few

weeks afterwards Gardiner on his knees urged the same advice upon her,

she replied that she had not offended and asked no mercy of any one. A

week later the Queen herself tried her hand upon her recalcitrant sister.

She had not seen her since she sent her to the Tower two years before,

and when the unexpected summons to the presence came to Elizabeth late

at night the young Princess gave herself up for lost. “Pray for me,” she

said to her attendants as she left the apartment, “for I know not whether

you will ever see me more.” Across the dark garden Elizabeth was led

between Sir Henry Bedingfield and Mistress Clarencius to the foot of a

small back staircase to the Queen’s rooms. Leaving her attendant outside,

the Princess was conducted by Clarencius alone to the Queen’s presence

in the bedchamber. Kneeling, Elizabeth besought her sister to believe in

her loyalty in spite of calumnies. “You will not confess your offence,

but stand stoutly in your truth?” asked Mary sternly. “I pray God it

may so fall out.” “If it doth not,” replied the Princess, “I request

neither favour nor pardon at your Majesty’s hand.” The Queen drily

suggested that her sister would probably say that she had been unjustly

punished, but Elizabeth deftly turned the point by a fervent reiteration

of her dutifulness and loyalty, and Mary, apparently somewhat mollified,

dismissed her sister not unamiably.

Foxe, who describes the scene,[93] says that it was believed that Philip

listened behind the arras to what passed at the interview, and “that

he showed himself a very friend in that matter.” Certain it is that on

several occasions after Elizabeth had succeeded to the throne he claimed

her gratitude or consideration for having on one occasion rescued her

from grave peril, and it is probable that this may have been the occasion

referred to. There were many reasons beyond the temporary one already

mentioned that explain Philip’s solicitude for Elizabeth’s life. Failing

Elizabeth, and any possible issue of the Queen, the next heir to the

English throne by natural law was the young Queen of Scots, practically

a French princess married to the heir of France. Better a thousand times

for Philip and his House that England should be ruled even by a heretic

friendly to him than by the staunchest Catholic under the control of

the hereditary enemy of the House of Habsburg. It must have been clear

to him, moreover, by this time that the Reformation in England had not

been crushed by Mary’s advent, and that a large proportion of the people

regarded France as a more desirable friend than Spain. Nor could he shut

his eyes to Elizabeth’s popularity, and to the fact that the enemies of

his faith and his House looked to the young Princess as their head. So

sagacious a politician would naturally endeavour to gain the goodwill,

even the disposal in marriage, of a person so potentially powerful as his

young sister-in-law, who, in any case, was likely to outlive his wife,

and might if well handled perpetuate the hold of Spain upon England, now

depending upon so tenuous a thread.

On the 30th April there came flying to London from Hampton Court the

news that the nation’s prayers had been heard, and that at midnight of

the 29th a male child had been born to the Queen, happily and well.

Proclamation was made, joy bells rang, all business was suspended, and

processions from every church perambulated the parishes with psalms

of thanksgiving for so signal a mercy. Public tables were spread that

all might freely eat and drink their fill, whilst bonfires blazed in

broad daylight, and the people forgot for a moment the grim spectre of

persecution that might be perpetuated if the news was true. But it was

not true, and the sad disillusionment came whilst yet the rejoicings were

in full swing. It was, said the Catholics, an invention of the enemy

in order to cause trouble; but though this was possible, for Noailles

had never ceased to sneer at the assurance of the Queen’s condition,

the open and ostentatious preparations for the event that had been

made at Court were of themselves sufficient reason for the rumour of

the birth. The occurrence naturally distressed Mary, who kept her room

thereafter for a time, and at once a flood of scurrilous literature

was surreptitiously circulated in London, calumniating the Queen, her

husband, and all their friends.[94]

All through May the country stood on tiptoe of expectation for the birth

of the prince whose coming meant so much apparently for the future of

Christendom. Mary, still deceiving herself, was comforted by the sight

of new-born babies brought to her whose mothers were, it was said, as

old and as thin as she. Philip’s solicitude, too, knew no bounds. Every

demonstration of affection was lavished upon his wife, and nothing was

allowed to stand in the way of his anticipated joy. Although in deep

mourning for his grandmother, Jane the Crazy, he ordered that the moment

his expected son was born all signs of mourning were to be abandoned.

His father was summoning him incessantly, and he was yearning furiously

to get away, but he could not leave his wife whilst this event was still

pending. At last, at the end of May, he gave permission for most of his

Spanish suite and his guards to cross the Channel in advance of him. It

was indeed time; for only a week before a regular pitched battle between

five hundred armed Englishmen and a body of Spaniards took place at

Hampton Court, many being killed and wounded on both sides;[95] and the

fires of Smithfield were blazing freely now, to the almost open anger of

the people, who unjustly cast all the blame upon the Spanish influence at

Court.

There were other things, too, which made it expedient for Philip to

hurry to his father’s side. The Venetian ambassador went to see him at

Richmond at the beginning of June, and on their way to chapel together

Philip told Michaeli that he had that moment received news from Brussels

that Cardinal Caraffa had been elected Pope. The ambassador noticed that

the King was disturbed and unquiet at the news, as well he might be,

for the Neapolitan, Caraffa, was the bitterest foe of Spain alive; and

this meant that the peace which was being so painfully negotiated at

Calais would be frustrated, or in any case be of short duration; for in

future the Spanish champion of orthodoxy would have not only to contend

against the “eldest son of the Church,” but against the head of the

Church himself,[96] making common cause, “not only with France, but with

the Turk, and if need be with the devil himself,” to dwarf the Spanish

power in Italy and the Mediterranean. But, urgent though Philip’s

presence elsewhere might be, it was more urgent still in England until

safety came with the birth of his hoped for child. Writing in June to

the Emperor, Renard says that everything hangs upon the happy issue of

that event. He continues: “The doctors and ladies were two months out of

their reckoning, and there is now no appearance of the affair happening

for another ten days. If, by God’s mercy, she does well, matters here

will take a better turn; but if not, I foresee trouble, and a great

disturbance, so great, indeed, that the pen cannot express it. For it is

certain that they have managed so ill with regard to the succession, that

if anything untoward happens Lady Elizabeth will have the preference,

heresy will take a new life and religion be overturned. She being French

in her leanings, the nation will decline, the ecclesiastics will be

persecuted, and revenge will be more rife than ever. I am not at all

sure that the King and Court will be safe from the people, and the final

tragedy will be calamitous. It is incredible to what extent this delay in

the birth affords to the partisans of Elizabeth ground for the spread of

false rumours. Some say the Queen is not pregnant at all, and that if a

fitting child had been found there would not have been so much delay.”[97]

In this critical condition affairs remained for many weeks longer,

the Queen obstinately refusing to give up her hope, which her women

and physicians had already pronounced delusive. Hampton Court was

overcrowded by gossiping courtiers; but none were allowed to see the

Queen except a few of her favourite ladies, and the whole of the routine

work of the Sovereign was done by Philip. All this was, of course, known

by the expectant people in London, who saw daily church processions for

the Queen’s safe delivery month after month, until anxiety began to give

place to ridicule. Sometimes rumours ran that the Queen was dead, and

that the fact was being kept secret by Philip in order that he might work

his will in England. Religious feeling grew more bitter than ever, with

Bonner’s ruthless persecution on the one hand and fanatic sacrilege on

the other. To make matters worse, the summer was the most inclement and

the harvest the scantiest that had been seen in England for years, and

discontent was everywhere. At length, after another disappointment in

July, even poor, forlorn Mary herself was convinced that she had been

mistaken, and early in August she dismissed the crowds of hangers-on from

their attendance at Court and moved with a smaller following to Oatlands,

where she gradually resumed her ordinary routine again.[98]

Orders were given for the processions and rogations of the Church to be

discontinued, and Philip was now faced with the fact that the splendid

plot of his father to capture the control of England by marriage had

practically failed, for Mary’s health was evidently bad, and her life

promised to be a short one. With it would end the hold of Philip over

England unless the Queen’s successor could be lured into the Spanish net.

Little knew the Spaniards yet what a wily bird it was that they hoped

to snare. But in the meanwhile it behoved Philip to make the most of his

opportunities whilst his wife lived. He could delay his departure no

longer, for his father was peremptory now, and the urgent need for his

presence in England had passed. He was as imperturbable as ever, still an

attentive and apparently an affectionate husband to the Queen, though his

gallantries to other ladies began to be talked about somewhat openly. If

the Queen were of a jealous disposition, wrote the Venetian ambassador,

she would indeed be unhappy; to which the reply may be made that she

was jealous and she was unhappy. Even now, on the very eve of Philip’s

departure, she strove ardently to keep him by her side, or at least to

extract a pledge from him that he would return to her within a month, a

promise which at last he gave, though to his own Spanish confidants he

said that if once he set foot in Spain again, he would never leave it on

so poor an occasion.[99]

By the 20th August it became impossible to hide any longer Philip’s

approximate departure. Every day fresh parties of Spanish courtiers

and attendants were starting on the road from Gravesend to Dover, and

the rumour spread in London that, in order to get away quietly, and

so escape the notice of the French, the King intended to go down the

river in Lord Arundel’s barge and embark at Dover secretly. The news

was untrue, for Philip and Mary went openly through London to Greenwich

to make preparations for the voyage; though it was jealously noted by

the people that, although Elizabeth was now at Court and on good terms

with the Queen, she was sent to Greenwich by water, it was said in

order that the people might not see and cheer her.[100] Mary was full

of grief and inconsolable at losing her husband even for a month, and

Philip, ostensibly full of solicitude, specially confided the care of

her to Pole. Orders were given that the minutes of all the Privy Council

meetings, translated into Latin, were to be sent to the King during his

absence, and that no important resolution was to be adopted without his

approval. Gardiner was already dying of jaundice and dropsy, and in no

case would have been trusted by Philip; but Pole was wise and amiable,

and it was hoped would prove a pliable instrument for Spanish ends,

advocated as they would be by the Councillors already bribed in the

Emperor’s interest.

On the 26th August Philip and his wife left Hampton Court by water for

Westminster, where they dined; and in the afternoon, with great and

unaccustomed state, rode through London to Greenwich Palace. It had been

generally believed at one time, and the fear still lingered, that Mary

was really dead, and it was thought necessary on this occasion that

all London should have an opportunity of seeing her. At the head of

the cavalcade rode Philip with the Cardinal on his left hand, followed

closely by the Queen in an open litter. But the French ambassador, who

saw the procession, sneered at the distrust shown by Philip of the

Londoners, for around him there were a hundred of his archers of the

guard, armed to the teeth, with their morrions on their heads and their

lances raised.[101] The joy of the people at seeing the Queen again was

great, for she was still popular personally, though murmurs there were

for the absence of Elizabeth. Three days afterwards, on the 29th August,

1555, Philip tore himself away from his reluctant spouse. Mastering her

grief in public by a great effort, but with tear-reddened eyes and drawn,

pallid face, the Queen led her husband composedly through the long suites

of rooms of the Palace of Greenwich; though when the members of Philip’s

Spanish household who remained behind came one by one, and, kneeling,

kissed his hand, Mary for a time failed to control her agitation: and

she sobbed convulsively when the English ladies of the Court, copiously

weeping, were kissed farewell in English fashion by the gallant young

king. With a last embrace Mary’s husband left her to enter the barge,

whilst she retired to her own apartment, where, leaning upon the sill

of an open window, and thinking herself unobserved, she gave way to her

sorrow unconstrained, whilst she watched the boat speed down the river,

bearing away all she loved on earth.

Philip played his part admirably to the last. Standing on the most

conspicuous spot of the barge, he continued to raise his hat and waft

affectionate salutations to the royal watcher at the window, until a

bend in the river shut from his sight the Palace of Greenwich and its

mistress. The bitterest disappointment must have been his. France was as

far from being subdued as ever, the Emperor was weary of the struggle,

old and sick at heart, and yearning to cast his burden upon his son.

Peace was absolutely necessary at almost any terms that the French would

grant, for it was now clear that England would not, even if she were

able, throw her resources into another’s war at the bidding of the King

Consort. But Philip showed no sign of defeat. Like a courteous high-bred

gentleman, smiling and debonair, he bade a fond farewell for a month to

his faded wife, whom, if he could have his way, he wished never more to

see.[102]