Meanwhile Gardiner, and with him most of the loyalists, disappointed in the new Earl of Devon, looked to Reginald Pole as their next best hope. Mary was known to have an affectionate regard for her kinsman, and she owed him, moreover, a debt of gratitude. It will be remembered that there had been once before a question of their marriage. But Pole, although not yet irrevocably pledged to the ecclesiastical state, being only in minor orders, was without ambition, and had no desire for matrimony. He even thought that the Queen, being of the age she was, should remain single, and leave the succession to take its course; and he charged his friend, Pedro Soto, to say this to the Emperor. But the Council were greatly concerned to negotiate a suitable match, and the only two eligible Englishmen being henceforth out of the reckoning, they turned their attention successively to the King of Denmark, the Infant of Portugal, the Prince of Piedmont and to Ferdinand of Austria, King of the Romans. But during this time, Renard was not idle. Having sounded Mary with regard to the Prince of Spain, he proceeded diligently to combat her objections. In his first interview at New Hall, he had merely put forward the suggestion of a marriage; by degrees Philip’s name was introduced, and when he judged that the time was come for delivering the Emperor’s message, he flattered himself that the day was won, because she smiled as she listened. Writing to the Bishop of Arras, Cardinal Granvelle, he said, “Je connais ladite reine, tant facile, tant bonne, tant peu expérimentée des choses du monde et d’état, tant novice en toutes choses.... Et pour vous dire confidemment ce que me semble d’elle, je suis en opinion que si Dieu ne la garde, elle se trouvera trompée et abusée, soit par pratiques des Français, soit par conspirations particulières de ceux du pays, soit par poison ou autrement.”[352]
Mary has been represented by some modern historians as eagerly desiring the marriage with Philip, as greedily swallowing the tempting bait, her passion overleaping every obstacle. Nothing is farther from the truth, and those who have carefully followed her career step by step hitherto, will readily acknowledge, that such a reading of her character is altogether at variance with the whole tenour of her life. With regard to this marriage, she saw difficulties on all sides, and observed to Renard that the suitors proposed to her were so young that she might be the mother of them all, and reminded him that his Highness, the Prince of Spain, was twelve years younger than herself. She also objected that he would naturally wish to pass much of his time in Spain, ordering and administering the affairs of his kingdom, and that this would constitute an immense drawback to the marriage, adding that she had never seriously contemplated matrimony until God had promoted her to the Crown, nor felt affection for any man.[353]
After this interview, Renard thought that Mary was more inclined to the Emperor’s brother, Ferdinand of Austria, who had attained the mature age of fifty, than to Philip, who was no older than Courtenay, but he thought, too, that Ferdinand’s son, Maximilian, had also a fair chance. Nevertheless, he ceased not to sing Philip’s praises, and before long, all London was in possession of the secret, that the Emperor was soliciting the Queen’s hand for his son. None scrupled to express a disapproval, which became general hostility, when de Noailles had dexterously insinuated, that the coming of Philip as their King would mean ruin to the English, followed by the establishment of the Inquisition. To his master he observed reasonably enough, that the Spanish marriage of the Queen would be “to the great displeasure of all, with perpetual war against your Majesty, the Scotch and her own subjects, who will unwillingly suffer the rule of a foreigner”.[354]
The simmering discontent was momentarily allayed by the prospect of the Queen’s coronation on the 1st October, and by the issuing far and wide of writs for the assembling of Parliament on the 4th.
The Londoners had ever loved a spectacle, and having been deprived for six years of every outward and visible sign of rejoicing, their whole energies were now turned to the devising of a succession of brilliant pageants, wherein they proposed to do honour to the Queen. They flattered themselves that at the meeting of Parliament, all difficulties would be adjusted.
The Queen, entirely occupied with the solemnity before her, had applied through Renard to the Bishop of Arras, Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle, to procure the chrism to be used in her anointing. The Bishop, in sending the three different unctions necessary, excused himself for not enclosing them in a more costly box, saying that, as no artist (nul maistre) had been willing to undertake the preparation of a more ornate receptacle in less than three weeks, he sent the box which he usually carried about with him, choosing to execute her Majesty’s commission in a rough and ready manner, rather than to fail altogether by being too late.[355] On the same day the Papal Nuncio told Cardinal del Monte, that Mary had resolved no longer to style herself supreme Head of the Church of England, but simply Queen of France and England, that she had caused coin to be struck with her effigy on one side, and on the other, the legend Veritas temporis filia, that she had abrogated several taxes, and had ordered that Mass should again be offered throughout the kingdom.
At two o’clock on the afternoon of the 30th September the Queen left the Tower, and passed through the city to her coronation in Westminster Abbey. Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves followed Mary’s chariot, which was covered with cloth of gold, in one only a little less splendid, covered with cloth of silver. After them came the ladies of the court. “All the streets from the Tower to Temple Bar were richly hung with divers costly pageants.”[356]
That night, the court remained at Westminster Palace, and the next day, all walked in solemn procession on foot to the Abbey, where Mary was crowned by Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester; the Archbishop of Canterbury, on whom the office would naturally have fallen, being in prison. To a superficial observer all would have appeared as satisfactory as possible; the cheers of the people were hearty and spontaneous, and the Queen, deeply impressed by the significance of the act she was accomplishing, was yet not so entirely wrapt in her devotions, but that she had a kindly look and smile for the crowd that pressed round her on all sides. Behind her stood Elizabeth, and Anne of Cleves, both Princesses wearing dresses of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine; on their heads were crowns of gold, ablaze with precious stones of great size and value. The Queen’s crown, sceptre, sword and other insignia of the regal office were carried by the highest dignitaries in the State. Renard watched Elizabeth closely, and noticed signs of intelligence between her and the French ambassador. After the ceremony, as the royal procession was moving towards Westminster Hall, he heard her complain to de Noailles of the weight of the crown she was wearing. “Have patience,” he replied, “it is only the preliminary to one that will sit more lightly.”[357]
On Thursday, the 5th October, the first Parliament of Mary’s reign met “to consider chiefly the restoration of religion”.
Great interest had been taken throughout the realm, in the election of the 430 members who made up on the opening day an unusually full House. Even Froude, who will not be suspected of partiality, admits[358] that “on the whole it was perhaps the fairest election which had taken place for many years”.