But another obstacle arose, which Renard had not foreseen. Ashamed of the weakness she had just exhibited, the Queen began seriously to think of uniting herself with Cardinal Pole, at that time attainted with treason by an act passed in the reign of Henry VIII., and banished from the realm. Regarding the Cardinal, she said, with feelings akin to veneration, and owing him reparation for the many and grievous injuries he had endured from her father, she would make him amends by bestowing upon him her hand. As he was only a cardinal deacon, a dispensation for his marriage with her could be easily procured from the Pope. She would implore his Holiness to grant her request, and to send Pole as legantine ambassador to England, when the nuptials might be solemnised. The union was sure to meet with the approval of the Holy See, which would perceive in it an earnest of the complete return of the realm to obedience to the Church. Renard did not attempt to dissuade the Queen from her design, feeling his efforts would then only be thrown away, and might serve to confirm her in her purpose, but contented himself with acquainting the Emperor with her Majesty’s design, suggesting that Pole should be detained until after the marriage which they sought to bring about should have taken place.
The hint was not lost upon Charles. At the hazard of incurring the displeasure of the Sovereign Pontiff, Julius III., he determined to prevent the Cardinal from passing into England.
No man of his time possessed higher and nobler qualities than the illustrious Reginald Pole. Sanctity of manners, erudition, wisdom, eloquence, combined to render him one of the most shining lights of the age. Devout without bigotry, tolerant, strictly conscientious, and pure-minded, he was utterly free from debasing passions. Guile and hypocrisy formed no part of his character. Self-denying, abstinent, and laborious, he was ever generous and charitable. Descended from the royal house of York, his mother being Margaret, Countess of Salisbury daughter of the Duke of Clarence, brother to Edward IV., Pole attached no undue importance to this adventitious circumstance, but maintained an almost apostolic meekness of deportment. At the advanced period of life he had attained at the period of our history, his looks were in the highest degree venerable and impressive, offering a complete index to his character. A master of the Latin language, which he spoke and wrote with facility and classical elegance, he had delighted in earlier years in the Greek poets and philosophers, but of late had confined his studies wholly to theology. At one time he had enjoyed the favour of Henry VIII., who was fully alive to his great merits, but he incurred the displeasure of the tyrant by the bold opinions he delivered as to the injustice of Katherine of Aragon’s divorce and the King’s marriage with Anne Boleyn. This opposition to his will was never forgiven by the implacable monarch, and unable to get Pole, who had taken refuge in Italy, into his power, he deprived him of his benefice and possessions, declared him guilty of high treason, laid a price on his head, and sought to procure his assassination. At last, unable to accomplish his fell purpose, Henry wreaked his vengeance on the Cardinal’s mother, the venerable Countess of Salisbury—the last of the whole blood of the royal line of Plantagenet—on his brother Henry Pole, Lord Montague, Sir Edward Nevil, Sir Nicholas Carew, and other of his friends, all of whom were attainted of high treason, and brought to the block. The slaughter of the aged and unoffending Countess, who was only put to death because she was Pole’s mother, is perhaps the deepest stain on Henry’s character. These wholesale murders deeply afflicted Pole, and cast a gloom over the rest of his days; but he did not cry out for vengeance upon the perpetrator of the foul crimes, knowing that Heaven would requite him in due season. That the snares spread by the tyrant had failed to catch him—that the daggers aimed at his breast had been turned aside—convinced him he had work to do for which he was miraculously preserved. So he resigned himself to the heavy calamity that had befallen him, but though there was no show of grief on his countenance, the deep-seated wound in his heart never healed. Raised to the Purple by Paul III., on the death of that Pontiff, in 1549 (five years before the date of our history), the eminent and virtuous Cardinal appeared the most fitting person in the conclave to assume the tiara, and, in spite of the intrigues against him, he was elected to the Pontifical throne; but when the news was brought him at a late hour, he modestly bade the messengers wait till the morrow, and his answer being construed into a refusal, another election took place, when the choice fell upon Cardinal del Monte, who took the title of Julius III.
This occurrence caused a little disappointment to Pole. He retired to the Benedictine convent of Maguzano, on the margin of the Lago di Garda, where he was visited by Commendone, a secret envoy from the Pope to England, and made acquainted by this discreet messenger with the Queen’s gracious intentions towards him. But with characteristic humility he declined them, alleging that, apart from any other considerations, his age and infirmities forbade him to think of marriage. Her majesty, however, he added, might count upon his zealous assistance in the great work she had before her, and the rest of his life should be devoted to her service.
Appointed legate from the Holy See to the Queen of England, the Emperor, and Henri II., King of France, with full powers and credentials, Pole set forth on his mission, but by the Emperor’s order he was stayed at Dillinghen on the Danube. After some delay, he was suffered to proceed as far as Brussels, where he received a letter from Mary, telling him that matters were not yet ripe for his advent, and that his appearance in England might lead to a religious war. The Emperor also peremptorily enjoined him to remain where he was, but assigned no reason for the mandate.
Anxious to obtain some explanation, Pole besought an interview with Charles, which, at last, was reluctantly accorded. When the Bishop of Arras brought him word that his Imperial Majesty would receive him, alleging some excuse for the delay, Pole replied, “Truly, I find it more easy to obtain access to Heaven in behalf of the Emperor, than to have access to the Emperor himself, for whom I daily pray.” The Cardinal gained nothing by the interview, and could not even learn the cause of his detention. Charles feigned anger, and taxing Pole with unnecessary impatience, reiterated his orders to him not to leave Brussels.
Having secured Pole, who he fancied might interfere with his plans if suffered to go into England, the Emperor wrote to the Queen, expressing his entire approval of her rejection of Courtenay, and hypocritically regretting that the Cardinal’s extraordinary indifference to worldly honours rendered him insensible to the great dignity she designed for him, concluded by offering her his son.
The proposal was well timed, Mary being in the mood to receive it. She did not waste much time in consideration, but sent for Renard, who was fully prepared for the summons, and saw at once by the Queen’s looks that his point was gained. She entered upon the business in a very straightforward manner, told him that, having always regarded the Emperor as a father, since his Majesty had graciously deigned to choose a husband for her, she should not feel at liberty to reject the proposal, even if it were not altogether agreeable to her. So far, however from that being the case, no one could please her better than the Prince of Spain. She, therefore, charged his excellency to acquaint the Emperor that she was ready in all things to obey him, and thanked him for his goodness. Thereupon, she dismissed Renard, who hastened to communicate the joyful intelligence to his imperial master.
But though the Queen had been thus won, much yet remained to be accomplished, and all Renard’s skill was required to bring the affair on which he was engaged to a triumphant issue.
Informed of the proposal of marriage which their royal mistress had received from the Prince of Spain, the council, with the exception of the old Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Arundel, and Lord Paget, arrayed themselves against it; and Gardiner, who had supported Courtenay, earnestly remonstrated with Mary, showing her that the alliance would be distasteful to the country generally, would alienate many of her well-disposed subjects, and infallibly involve her in a war with France. Finding it, however, vain to reason with her, or oppose her will—for she was as firm of purpose as her royal sire—the Chancellor desisted, and being really solicitous for the welfare and safety of the realm, proceeded to frame such a marriage-treaty as should ensure the government from all danger of Spanish interference, and maintain inviolate the rights and liberties of the people.