We have had various descriptions of Mary’s personal appearance, of her manner and character, from those who came in contact with her at different periods. There still remains to be chronicled the impression which the Queen produced on the mind of Giovanni Michiel, and which he describes in his account of England in 1557, at a time, therefore, when the charm of youth was past, and when she was approaching her end.
After describing her as of low, rather than middling stature and of a spare and delicate frame, quite unlike her father, who was tall and stout, or her mother who was portly, he says that her face, as can be seen by her portraits, is well proportioned in features and lineaments. He mentions the fact that when younger, she was considered not merely tolerably handsome, but of beauty exceeding mediocrity. At present, with the exception of some wrinkles, caused more by anxieties than by age, which make her appear some years older, “she is a seemly woman and never to be loathed for ugliness, even at her present age, without considering her degree of queen”. Her expression is very grave, her eyes are so piercing, that they inspire not only respect but fear, in those on whom she fixes them, although she is very short-sighted. “Her voice is rough and loud almost like a man’s, so that when she speaks, she is always heard a long way off.... But whatever may be the amount deducted from her physical endowments as much more may with truth and without flattery be added to those of her mind, as besides the facility and quickness of her understanding, which comprehends whatever is intelligible to others, even to those who are not of her own sex (a marvellous gift for a woman) she is skilled in five languages, not merely understanding but speaking four of them fluently, viz., English, Latin, French, Spanish and Italian, in which last however she does not venture to converse, although it is well known to her; but the replies she gives in Latin, and her very intelligent remarks made in that tongue, surprise everybody. Besides woman’s work, such as embroidery of every sort with the needle, she also practises music, playing especially on the clavicorde (a sort of spinet or small harpsichord) and on the lute, so excellently, that when intent on it (though now she plays rarely) she surprised the best performers, both by the rapidity of her hand and by her style of playing. Such are her virtues and external accomplishments. Internally, with the exception of certain trifles, in which to say the truth she is like other women, being sudden and passionate and close and miserly,[711] rather more so than would become a bountiful and generous queen.”
In other respects, he maintains that she has “no notable imperfections, whilst in certain things she is singular and without an equal; for not only is she brave and valiant, unlike other timid and spiritless women, but so courageous and resolute, that neither in adversity nor peril did she ever display or commit any act of cowardice or pusillanimity, maintaining always on the contrary, a wonderful grandeur and dignity, knowing what became the dignity of a sovereign as well as any of the most consummate statesmen in her service; so that from her way of proceeding, and from the method observed by her (and in which she still perseveres) it cannot be denied, that she shows herself to have been born of truly royal lineage. Of her humility, piety and religion it is unnecessary to speak, or bear witness to them, as they are not only universally acknowledged, but recently blazoned by proofs and facts, which fell little short of martyrdom, by reason of the persecutions she endured; so that it may be said of her, as Cardinal Pole says with truth, that in the darkness and obscurity of that kingdom, she remained precisely like a feeble light, buffeted by raging winds for its utter extinction, but always kept burning, and defended by her innocence and lively faith, that it might shine in the world, as it now does shine. It is certain that few women (I do not speak of princesses or queens but of private women) are known to be more assiduous at their prayers than she is, never choosing to suspend them for any impediment whatever, going at the canonical hours with her chaplains either to church in public, or to her private chapel, doing the like with regard to the communion and fast days, and finally to all other christian works, precisely like a nun and a religious.”
After commenting on Mary’s weak health, on her disappointed hopes of maternity, on her grief at the insurrections, conspiracies and plots formed against her daily, Michiel goes on to say, that although these have resulted auspiciously for the Queen, and inauspiciously for their authors, “yet nevertheless it being necessary on such occasions to proceed to capital punishment or confiscation, against one person or another, sometimes for crime, and sometimes on suspicion, she knows that by these means, the hatred and indignation she inspires are increased, the delinquents being not only excused almost by everybody, but the causes, such as the expulsion of foreigners (who are most odious to the English, on account of the Spaniards) or the religion, or both together assigned by the conspirators for their movements, being tacitly approved of. The consequence is, that as until now, the plots have been set on foot by the commonalty, and persons of mean extraction, so from the fickleness of that nation, were they excited by some personage or nobleman of importance, there is no doubt, they would create a great revolution throughout the realm, much to the personal danger of the Queen, and of her life, the kingdom being still full of humours and discontent, and the country showing a greater inclination and readiness for change than ever, provided it has a leader. Besides these and many other distresses, the Queen witnesses the daily increasing decline of the affection evinced towards her universally at the commencement of her reign, which in truth was such and so extraordinary, that never was greater shown in that kingdom towards any sovereign; and she is also harassed by the poverty in which she sees the Crown, owing not only to the past debts and disorders, but to the many expenses and the wants incurred in her own time, which prevent her from showing courtesy and liberality such as become a sovereign, either to her own subjects or to others. She is compelled on the contrary (there being no other remedy) daily to repeat her demands for loans and subsidies, which have now become such a grievance, and so much the more odious to the people, as notwithstanding all the subsidies, the creditors remain unpaid, the majority having arrears due to them for entire years, so that their clamours and complaints being redoubled, the hatred of all other malcontents increases proportionably. These and many others are the public causes of the Queen’s distress, and although they are held by her in great account, she nevertheless feels them less painfully than certain others, which affect her personally, as respecting those already mentioned by me, she comforts herself with the hope of their being remedied in the course of time, by the counsel and diligence of some of her ministers, especially Cardinal Pole, through the care taken by them to investigate and retrench superfluities and abuses, and thus with the aid of parsimony, getting out of debt as she expects to do shortly, so as then to be enabled to use liberality, confer favours and rewards, and relieve those who are in want.”[712]
Michiel, in continuing his report, ascribes the Queen’s principal distress to two causes. It proceeds, he says, from love and hatred—from excessive love of her husband, of his character and manners, believed by Michiel to be such as to captivate any one; and from hatred of Elizabeth. He considers that no one could have been a better husband than Philip, nor so good a one, and that to think of losing him, as he and the Queen can only meet by accident, would be irksome and grievous to any person who loved another heartily, and is assuredly so to a woman who is naturally tender. “If,” he continues, “to this violent love were to be added jealousy, which as yet she is not known to feel ... she would be truly miserable; and this separation is one of the anxieties that especially distresses her.”[713]
Without stopping to question the accuracy of Michiel’s assertion, that no one could have been a better husband than Philip, we pass on to what the Venetian considers the second principal cause of Mary’s distress, namely her “hatred of Elizabeth”. The expression is a strong one, and scarcely compatible with what he has already related of her piety, humility and prayerfulness. But “although dissembled,” the Queen, he tells us, “displays in many ways the scorn and ill-will she bears her ... whenever she sees her, fancying herself in the presence of the affronts and ignominious treatment to which she was subjected on account of her mother, from whom, in great part, the divorce from Queen Katharine originated. But what disquiets her most of all is, to see the eyes and hearts of the nation already fixed on this lady as successor to the Crown, from despair of descent from the Queen, to whom the demonstration and the thought are so much the more bitter and odious, as it would be grievous not only to her but to any one, to see the illegitimate child of a criminal, who was punished as a public ——, on the point of inheriting the throne, with better fortune than herself, whose descent is rightful, legitimate and regal. Besides this, the Queen’s hatred is increased, by knowing her to be averse to the present religion, she not only having been born in the other, but being versed and educated in it; for although externally she showed, and by living catholically shows, that she has recanted, she is nevertheless supposed to dissemble, and to hold it more than ever internally.”[714]
Strong feeling and strong language were natural in the days in which the above words were written, and a certain exaggeration of expression may be granted to an Italian, whose mother tongue flowed in superlatives. But Mary could not have been so ardent a lover, so devoted a friend, so kind a benefactress, if she had not also been quick to experience resentment, indignation, scorn and contempt. Elizabeth had been always the great antagonism of her life, and although Mary had repeatedly overcome her aversion, in very generous ways, her sister had done nothing to make her task an easier one. From the outset, their dispositions were as the poles asunder. Mary’s meaning was ever plain, expressed sometimes even bluntly; there was never anything the least ambiguous, either in her spoken or her clearly written words, in a hand admirably indicative of her firm, straightforward character. Elizabeth was at the best an enigma. It was impossible to judge whether any meaning lay behind her elaborate assurances which assured nothing; and her tortuous phrases served but to conceal whatever plan her cunning, secretive brain harboured. On the rare occasions when she was compelled to speak out, and declare herself, her utterances were for the most part falsified in the event.
It is not unlikely that Mary’s self-conquest in regard to Elizabeth, at the time of the latter’s abandonment and disgrace, would have resulted in a lasting affection, founded on pity, and that motherly instinct so strongly developed in the Queen, had not her sister persistently thrown herself into the arms of the rebels. At the time of Henry’s death, and until the beginning of Mary’s reign, their relations were as cordial as it was possible for Mary to make them. But in a very short time, Elizabeth became a source of constant annoyance and danger, and pursuing her underhand tactics to the end she thoroughly alienated and disgusted the Queen. If, for reasons of policy, Philip induced his wife to treat her as though she were innocent, the position was not thereby improved.
The purity of Mary’s court, at a period when licence was the order of the day, was the subject of much comment by her contemporaries. Her care for the honour and good repute of those about her, is illustrated by the following occurrence, which shows also the gentle manner in which she administered rebuke, when rebuke was necessary.
“Queen Mary being in the gallery, ready to go to the chapel, within the traverse, the Lord William Howard, Lord Chamberlain being with her, he taking his leave; without the traverse stood the maids of honour, expecting to wait on the queen to the chapel. Mrs. Frances Neville standing next to the traverse, the Lord Chamberlain passing by, a merry gentleman, took her by the chin saying: ‘My pretty —— (a word unfit for repetition) how dost thou?’ Which the queen saw and heard, the traverse being drawn. The queen gone forth, finding her farthingale at her foot loose, made sign to Mrs. Neville to pin it, which, kneeling down she did. The queen then took her by the chin as he had done saying: ‘God-a-mercy, my pretty ——’. She hearing the queen say thus, so blushed as she seemed to be astonished, replying: ‘Madam, what says your Majesty?’ still upon her knees, and seemed to be much troubled. The queen answered, ‘What is the matter? Have I said or done more than the Lord Chamberlain did? And may not I be as bold with thee as he?’ She replied: ‘My Lord Chamberlain is an idle gentleman, and we respect not what he saith or doth; but your Majesty from whom I think never any heard such a word, doth amaze me, either in jest or earnest to be called so by you. A —— is a wicked misliving woman.’ The queen took it, ‘Thou must forgive me; for I meant no harm’.”