The History of Mary I, Queen of England / as found in the public records, despatches of ambassadors, in original private letters, and other contemporary documents

by J. M. Stone

At three o’clock, the royal procession left the Cathedral, and the King and Queen walked hand in hand to the banqueting hall. According to the Spanish accounts of the banquet, none were seated at the royal table but the King and Queen. Some of the English chronicles state that a third place was assigned to Gardiner, the only dignitary admitted to their table. Farther off, tables occupying the whole length of the room were placed for the members of the court, the foreign ambassadors, Philip’s suite and the other guests. De Noailles had absented himself from the whole of the marriage ceremonies, judging that it was beneath his master’s dignity for the imperial ambassador to take precedence of him. Edward Underhill thus describes the banquet:—

“On the marriage day, the King and the Queen dined in the hall in the bishops palace, sitting under the cloth of estate, and none else at that table. The nobility sat at the side tables. We (the gentlemen pensioners) were the chief servitors to carry the meat, and the Earl of Sussex, our captain, was the shewer. The second course at the marriage of a king is given unto the bearers; I mean the meat, but not the dishes, for they were of gold. It was my chance to carry a great pasty of red deer, in a great charger, very delicately baked, which for the weight thereof, divers refused, the which pasty I sent unto London, to my wife and her brother, who cheered therewith many of their friends.”[469]

At the bottom of the hall was an orchestra, and music was played during nearly the whole time of the banquet. Towards the end, the Winchester schoolboys came in, and some of them recited poems and epithalamiums in honour of the marriage. The Queen rewarded them handsomely. After the banquet followed a ball, at which Underhill compared the Spanish dancing unfavourably with the English, and especially with that of Lord Braye and Mr. Carew, a criticism that must certainly be put down to British prejudice. Before nine o’clock, all had retired, but the feasting and rejoicing were continued for several days, after which the King and Queen went to Basinghouse, and thence to Windsor. Here, a chapter of the Order of the Garter was held, and Philip was installed. During the preparations for this ceremony, an overzealous herald hoisted down the arms of England and substituted those of Spain, but he was peremptorily ordered to replace them as they were.[470]

On the 7th August, a great public hunt was held, with toils five and six miles long, “and many a deer that day was brought to the quarry”.

So far, the Emperor and his ministers were satisfied with the success of their policy. On the 4th August, the Bishop of Arras wrote to Renard, expressing “incredible content, that the marriage for which both had worked, for so long, was accomplished, to the mutual satisfaction of both parties, and that the King was behaving in every way so well, that he had gained the approbation of all in England”. He foresaw, he said, many difficulties still, but hoped that with gentleness and benignity, they might not prove too great.[471]

Meanwhile, the King and Queen had made their public entry into London, and although there is nothing in the records to indicate that the citizens made any hostile demonstration against Philip, their reception of him cannot have been altogether gratifying, for after his second visit to the capital in September, Renard observed:—

“Since the return of the King to London, the vigil of St. Michael, the citizens have recovered altogether from the insolence which they at first showed, and seemed to comprehend, and taste at last, the honour and welfare which the alliance has brought to England, and the repose and tranquillity that are the result”.[472] The nobility, he went on to say, were beginning to accommodate themselves, and to converse with the Spaniards, admiring the humanity and virtue of the King, so that things were more peaceful than usual. At first, there had been, he said, some embarrassment, because things had not been arranged properly, but since the Council had been informed of the difficulty in getting the suite lodged, they had given such orders, that the citizens no longer objected to lodge the strangers, and that now all was well, except that they were made to pay exorbitant rents, which also would be reformed. It was true, he continued, that the heretics could not get over the matter of religion, and had been much troubled by the articles which the Bishop of London (Bonner) had caused to be printed and published, and notably on account of the form and name of the Inquisition, in which they had been conceived, but the publication had continued, in spite of murmurs, and they could do nothing, Madam Elizabeth being under arrest. All their hope now lay in the Earl of Arundel, who was an enemy of the Chancellor, and who hoped to marry his son to the Princess.

At the public entry of their Majesties into London, one small but ominous misadventure has been recorded showing the drift of Puritan feeling. The streets were gaily decorated, and the citizens indulged their love of pageantry freely. At the Conduit in Gracechurch Street, figures had been painted representing “Nine Worthies,” among whom were Henry VIII., Edward VI. and Mary. Henry VIII. wore armour, and had a sword in one hand, while he held a book in the other. On the book was inscribed in Latin The Word of God. He was supposed to be handing the Bible to Edward, who was standing in a corner by his side.

“Hereupon was no small matter made, for the Bishop of Winchester, lord Chancellor sent for the painter, and not only called him knave, for painting a book in King Henry’s hand, and specially for writing thereupon Verbum Dei, but also rank traitor and villain, saying to him that he should rather have put the book into the Queen’s hand (who was also painted there) for that she had reformed the Church and religion, with other things, according to the pure word of God indeed. The painter answered and said, that if he had known that had been the matter wherefore his lordship sent for him he could have remedied it, and not have troubled his lordship. The bishop answered and said, that it was the Queen’s Majesty’s will and commandment, that he should send for him; and so commanding him to wipe out the book and Verbum Dei, he sent him home. So the painter departed, but fearing lest he should leave somewhat either of the book or of Verbum Dei in King Henry’s hand, he wiped away a piece of his fingers withal.”[473]