Mary opened Parliament in person, “the Queen riding from Whitehall in her Parliament robes, with all the lords spiritual and temporal in their Parliament robes; and had a solemn Mass of the Holy Ghost sung in Westminster Church, with a sermon made by Dr. Heath, Bishop of Chichester”.[359]
Afterwards, the Lord Chancellor, addressing both Houses, extolled the virtue, piety and clemency of their sovereign. The speech was received with enthusiasm, and hopes were entertained that the Queen’s measures would be passed without opposition. Five days later, Mary sent down a bill for the abrogation of all laws concerning religion that had been passed during the two preceding reigns, one clause of the bill dealing especially with her mother’s divorce, and the question of her own legitimacy. The peers passed it without debate, but in the Lower House some stormy scenes attended the reading. The Commons had imagined that Mary would be content to restore religion to the condition in which her father had left it, and now they perceived, in the proposed abrogation of the decree of divorce, not merely a recognition of the Pope’s dispensing power, but an attempt to re-establish his jurisdiction in England. For this, the majority of the nation were unprepared. For twenty years and more, the Pope’s authority had been treated with contempt, his jurisdiction denied, his claims ridiculed, his name converted into a mark of infamy, and only mentioned with the foulest abuse. The language of the Reformers admirably promoted the effect which Henry VIII. wished to produce on the national mind, and by constant repetition of every scurrilous term of opprobrium, they had gained the popular ear. Few, at the beginning of Mary’s reign, were of so judicial a mind as to distinguish the real Pope from the bugbear that had been set up. Moreover, at the back of the prejudice lurked the fear, as yet vague and undefined, of a possible contingency, involving the restoration of Church property, on which so many had become rich. But besides the old and the middle-aged, with whom these things weighed, a fresh generation had sprung up, to whom the Papacy, if not the execrable institution that it was popularly believed to be, yet savoured too much of the past, and of those dreary mediæval times, from which the world was escaping as from a tomb. Too recent to appear picturesque, the Middle Ages were, to the pioneers of the new era, out of date and old-fashioned, terms far more injurious than the most violent word-war of the preachers. Filled with the new wine of the Renaissance, these youthful enthusiasts formed the nucleus of that phalanx of life-loving, exuberant personalities who, throwing all their energies into the glorification of liberty, fame, pleasure, and earthly beauty, gave us subsequently the Elizabethan age. To all of these the very shadow of a spiritual authority was repellant, and the whole session would doubtless have worn itself out in wrangling, had not the Queen, coming unexpectedly to the House, seen how matters stood. She promptly affixed the royal assent to three bills that had been passed, and prorogued Parliament for three days. During this interval, two separate bills were framed in the place of the one obnoxious one, the first dealing exclusively with the confirmation of Henry’s first marriage. To make this bill acceptable to the Commons, all allusion to the Pope was avoided. The royal couple, it stated, had lived together in lawful matrimony for twenty years, after which time, unfounded scruples and projects of divorce had been suggested to the King, by interested persons, who, to further their schemes, obtained by threats and bribery the seals of national and foreign universities in favour of the divorce, the sentence being ungodlily pronounced by Thomas, the newly made Archbishop of Canterbury, against all principles of equity and conscience, and in the absence of Queen Katharine. The sentence had afterwards been ratified by Parliament, but as the marriage was not prohibited by divine law, it could not be dissolved by any such authority. The bill required therefore that the marriage should be adjudged good and valid.[360]
Although what was demanded was tantamount to a decree bastardising Elizabeth, not a dissentient voice was raised against the bill in either House.[361]
The second bill was framed in such a manner as to allay the fears of the holders of Church property, and to reassure those who dreaded a return to Papal jurisdiction. It made therefore no mention of ecclesiastical property, neither did it touch the vital question of the royal supremacy, but simply aimed at the re-establishment of religion as it was left at Henry’s death, with the repeal of nine Acts passed by the influence of Edward’s Council. The debate lasted two days in the Lower House, two-thirds of which consisted of friends of the new doctrines. Nevertheless, the bill passed without a division, and Cranmer’s ingenious compromise between Catholicism, Lutheranism and Calvinism was abolished.[362]
The other bills passed in this session related to the Acts, bonds, deeds and writings passed during the nine days’ usurpation, and were made as binding in law, as if Mary’s name had stood for Jane’s. It was also decreed, that nothing should be accounted treason but what fell under the famous statute of Edward III., nor felony but what was so understood in the first year of Henry VIII. The Acts against riotous gatherings passed in the reign of Edward VI. were revived; several persons attainted were restored in blood, and their estates given back to them. Those who had been foremost in actively conspiring to exclude Mary from the throne were attainted. These were, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Guildford and Lord Ambrose Dudley, and the Lady Jane.
All these measures were passed without serious obstacle; the real crux lay in the question of the Queen’s marriage. On the 6th September, de Noailles had been informed by one of the Howards, especially trusted by Mary, of her secret interview with Renard, and of his formal proposal to her from the Emperor, to marry Philip of Spain. The French ambassador lost no time in informing his master of the threatened danger to France, requesting that his brother, the protonotary, François de Noailles, might be accredited as his coadjutor in the difficult diplomatic situation likely to ensue. The following night, he sent for one of Courtenay’s friends, and advised him and his party to acquire as many allies as possible among those who came personally into contact with the Queen and the members of Parliament, soon to be assembled. These latter were to be incensed against Spain, and brought to petition her Majesty not to take a foreigner for her consort. On the 8th, he had an interview with Sorranzo, the Venetian envoy, whom he found ready to enter into his schemes, although Sorranzo had received no instructions from his government, on the subject of the Queen’s marriage. But so great was his dread of any further aggrandisement of the House of Austria, that he was willing to listen to anything de Noailles had to propose. On the 9th, the French ambassador sought out Gardiner, and harangued him for two hours, on the dangers and disadvantages of the proposed union—to the Queen who would soon find herself forsaken by her husband—to the ministers who knew well that Spaniards were not people to suffer opposition in the government—to the realm at large which would see its fortresses occupied by foreigners, and be itself drawn into a war with France, “for,” said he, “if the Emperor married his son to the Queen of England,” it was “with the intention that she, in accepting him, should take upon herself all his quarrels”.[363]
To these arguments Gardiner more than agreed, but he was careful not to show his hand completely. He had been the first to remonstrate with Mary, urging the dislike of the English to foreigners, the arrogance of Spain in particular, and the danger of a perpetual war with the French, who would never agree to the Low Countries being annexed to England. But opposed to the Chancellor were the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Arundel, Paget and Rochester, so that Gardiner could no longer be said to control the Council. De Noailles declared that they were in the pay of the Emperor. His manipulation of the popular feeling was the cleverest stroke of all. He caused it to be widely circulated, that immediately on his arrival and marriage, Philip would seize the Tower and the royal treasure, and make so many innovations that the laws would be entirely subverted, the rights of Parliament suppressed, the Inquisition established and the people trodden under the heel of Spain.[364] In his anxiety to prevent the union, he overstepped his master’s commands, unless the letter which Henry II. wrote to him, prescribing moderation, was a mere blind, intended to be shown to the Queen. Henry’s private instructions to his ambassador regarding his personal dealings with Mary were, that he should go to work very delicately, not seeming to wish to prevent the marriage, which would only cause her to be still more determined in its favour, but that gently he should continue to express doubt of the possibility of such an alliance, so odious to the King of France, since her Majesty had expressed a wish to live in peace with him.
At the beginning of the second session, the Commons, largely under the influence of de Noailles, waited a fortnight for the opportunity to present the Queen with an address which they had voted on the all-engrossing subject. Pleading illness, Mary sought time for further reflection. Then she sent suddenly for the Lower House, to attend on her at once. The Speaker presented himself, accompanied by twenty members, all that could be collected in haste. In his hurry, he had forgotten to provide himself with the address, but his eloquence made up for all deficiencies of form. He spoke so long and tediously, that Mary became impatient, and sat down, contrary to her wont. With a great deal of circumlocution, he prayed the Queen to marry, but not to choose a husband among foreigners, and he expatiated on the advantages she would derive from a union with a member of the English nobility. Such language, respectful though it might be, was not such as to be acceptable to Tudor ears, and in an aside, Mary exclaimed that she would be a match for all her Chancellor’s cunning.[365] When the Speaker had finished, she rose to reply, although the answer should rightly have devolved on Gardiner, as Chancellor, an innovation that caused Paget to rally him afterwards on his disgrace, the Queen having deprived him of his office. Her words were short and characteristic: “For that you desire to see us married,” she said, “we thank you. Your desire to dictate to us the consort whom we shall choose, we consider somewhat superfluous. The English Parliament has not been wont to use such language to its sovereigns, and when private persons on such matters suit their own tastes, sovereigns may reasonably be allowed to choose whom they prefer.” Herewith she dismissed them, and a few days later, Parliament was dissolved.[366]
