Cardinal Pole, in the report which he sent to Julius III. of the ceremony in Parliament on St. Andrew’s Day, prognosticated nothing but good for the future of the country. After bestowing much praise on the King and Queen, he continues rather quaintly: “Philip is the spouse of Mary, but treats her so deferentially as to appear her son, thus giving promise of the best result. Mary has spiritually generated England, before giving birth to that heir of whom there is very great hope.”[492] The Pope’s response to this eulogy was the sending to Mary of the golden rose, and to Philip the sword and hat which sometimes accompanied it, when the Pope desired to honour in this manner both a King and a Queen. The Venetian ambassador thus chronicled the event. Writing on the 26th March 1555 he says: “Three days ago, there arrived here Monsignor Antonio Agustini, auditor di Rota, sent by the Pope to visit and thank their Majesties for the auspicious events of the religion, and to present them with the rose, sword and hat which his Holiness is in the habit of sending to one prince or another; and so yesterday, the day of the Annunciation and commencement of the year, according to the English style, the ceremony was performed in the private chapel of her Majesty’s palace, there being present the most illustrious Legate, all the ambassadors, and the lords of the Court. Monsignor Agostini (sic) after the Mass, presented the rose to the most serene Queen, and the sword and hat to the most serene King, accompanying the presents with a brief from his Holiness, which was read in public, replete with praise of their Majesties, and of his Holiness’s great love and affection for them; and the most illustrious Legate, in his episcopal habit, with mitre and cope, having recited certain prayers over the presents, and given the usual benediction, the most serene Queen evinced the utmost delight at hers, for after a short prayer, she carried it in her own hand, and placed it on its altar.”[493]
In the midst of her joy and hope, Mary was mindful of the afflicted. Many were still in the Tower for having been implicated in Wyatt’s rebellion. They would have been liberated at her marriage, but it had been thought that the fear of death might induce them to make important confessions. They were however released in January 1555, under personal recognisances for their future good behaviour, subject to the payment of sundry fines. Several of them were, notwithstanding, engaged in another rebellious enterprise, a few months later.[494]
Elizabeth was not forgotten in the clemency so generally extended. She too must feel the effect of the wonderful dawn of happiness that was at last tinging all Mary’s existence with a rosy light. Even before her marriage, the Queen had wished to restore her sister to liberty. But the problem as to what should be done with her was not easy to solve. She had thought of sending her to the Low Countries, where under the eye of the widowed Queen of Hungary, Philip’s aunt, even Elizabeth would find it difficult to do much mischief. Then a marriage was proposed for her with Philibert Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy.
Closely as she was guarded by Sir Henry Bedingfeld, de Noailles found means to communicate with her, and to advise her against this union. He feared that she might consent to anything, in order to regain her liberty. The Duke was a disinherited prince, and the project of marrying her to him was nothing but a scheme for expatriating her, perhaps even for depriving her of the hope she might entertain of one day succeeding to the throne.[495]
Hereupon Elizabeth at once refused the Duke, without ever having seen him. He had arrived in England during the Christmas holidays, leaving at the beginning of January, and she was not released from captivity at Woodstock until the following April.[496]
At the beginning of that month, Mary went to Hampton Court, where she intended to await her confinement. On the 17th, Sir Henry Bedingfeld received an order to convey the Lady Elizabeth to that place with all despatch, together with her servants and her customary guard.[497] The journey lasted four days, the third day being marked by a demonstration in her favour, on the part of sixty of her tenants at Colnebrook. But Bedingfeld, in the Queen’s name, ordered them all to retire, and allowed none but her three women, an officer, two men-servants, and a gentleman of her wardrobe to approach her. She arrived at Hampton Court on the 29th, and was lodged in the apartment just then vacated by the Duke of Alva, adjoining that of the King. All communication from outside was cut off, and Bedingfeld’s soldiers mounted guard over her. Her seclusion was almost as great as it had been at Woodstock. She was not permitted to see the Queen, but according to documents discovered a few years ago, and, of course, unknown to the early writers on this reign, Philip visited her within a few days of her arrival.[498]
“The next day 29 April, Madam Elizabeth came to this Court, whom the King went to visit two or three days after. She had been told beforehand by the Queen her sister, to be dressed as richly as possible, to receive the visit of the said King.”
What was said at this interview never transpired, but it is certain that not a word passed Elizabeth’s lips, that could be construed into a willingness to play the part of a repentant sinner. A demeanour of injured and haughty innocence had served the accused Princess well, when she was in imminent danger, and a prisoner in the Tower. She had found it successful at Woodstock, and it was not likely that now, when she was on the threshold of freedom, she would abate one iota of her dignity. She knew that if there had been evidence against her sufficient to convict, she would have been convicted long ago, and she knew also that without that evidence her life was safe. After a fortnight of solitude, she was allowed to see her great-uncle, Lord William Howard, whom she begged to procure her the favour of an interview with some members of the Privy Council. Accordingly, a few days later, Gardiner, Arundel, Shrewsbury and Petre paid her a visit. Foxe says:—
“Stephen Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, kneeled down, and requested that she would submit herself to the queen’s grace; and in so doing, he had no doubt but that her majesty would be good to her. She made answer that rather than she would so do, she would lie in prison all the days of her life; adding that she craved no mercy at her majesty’s hand, but rather desired the law, if ever she did offend her majesty in thought, word or deed. ‘And besides this, in yielding,’ quoth she, ‘I should speak against myself, and confess myself to be an offender, which I never was towards her majesty, by occasion whereof, the King and the Queen might ever hereafter conceive of me an evil opinion. And therefore I say, my lords, it were better for me to lie in prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of my prince.’ And so they departed, promising to declare her message to the queen.