Part III
On 4 August 1553, the Privy Council made its formal submission to Queen Mary. She refused to issue immediate pardons to those who had declared for Jane, and rebuked them gentry for their disloyalty, but, knowing she had no choice but to be conciliatory, she allowed them to kiss her hand. A few lords burst into tears at her magnanimity, but the Emperor's envoys expressed grave misgivings at such ill-advised mercy. On 5 August, acting on Charles's orders, Renard urged the Queen to be ruthless in punishing traitors; there were those who were a threat to her security, such as Jane of Suffolk', Northumberland, Suffolk and Guilford Dudley, and they should be put to death. Mary firmly refused to order Jane's execution, saying she had been the innocent tool of ruthless men, though Renard warned her that she was displaying a weakness that might have fatal results. The Queen, however was not to be moved; she would consider putting the men to death, but not Jane. Renard accepted that in most respects she had no choice but to be merciful, and drily observed that, if Mary had executed all those involved in Northumberland's coup, she would have very few subjects left.
Winchester and Pembroke had been arrested and imprisoned, but by 13 August they were at liberty and sworn again to the Council. Northampton was also released. Archbishop Cranmer had been refused a place on the Council, as had several others who had supported Northumberland, but the Queen retained twelve councillors who had served under King Edward, reappointed seven more who had served under Henry VIII, including Norfolk, and preferred twelve members of her household, who were loyal to her but lacked political experience. Her Council was therefore larger than hitherto, and hence cumbersome, as well as being riven by sometimes bitter divisions, rendering effective government difficult. As Renard put it, 'The Council does not seem to be composed of experienced men endowed with the necessary qualities to conduct the administration and government of the kingdom.' Even the Queen, with her piercing, intimidating glance and her deep, manly voice, found her councillors hard to control, and complained to the ambassador, 'I spend my days shouting at the Council and it makes no difference at all.'
Many councillors changed their religion in order to placate the Queen and retain her favour. To others she owed a debt of gratitude for their - admittedly belated - assistance in helping her overcome her enemies. Most were men of the world upon whom she was forced to rely heavily.
Gardiner - the best statesman among them - was appointed Lord Chancellor and Keeper of the Great Seal: the Queen's chief councillor. He was vastly experienced in politics and, like many bishops at that time, an ambitious, worldly man. Born a cloth-maker's son in Bury St Edmunds, he early on showed exceptional academic ability, studying canon law at university. Henry VIII had appointed him his principal secretary and entrusted him with many confidential embassies abroad and with the publication of anti-papal propaganda. Gardiner remained, however, one of the leaders of the Catholic party at court, whom later Protestant writers delighted in vilifying. It is true that he was capable of being a sharp-tongued bully, outspoken in his views and intolerant of those who did not agree with them, and that he could be difficult at times, but he was also, for all his religious conservatism, far more moderate than most, and full of wisdom and common sense. To his friends he showed loyalty, affection and humour. Above all, he loved England and worked tirelessly all his life for her benefit. He and the Queen differed on several important issues and their relations were never easy because, at heart, Mary did not like him. Yet he shared with her a common desire to restore the old faith, and because of this she was prepared to tolerate him.
Mary herself had spent most of her adult life in quiet obscurity in the country, had received no proper training to prepare her for queenship, and consequently lacked political experience and understanding. But she was determined to rule well, and demonstrated from the first a remarkable capacity for conscientious hard work, attending as many Council meetings as possible and writing many official letters in her own hand. She soon gained a reputation for being bountiful to those who came to her with petitions or grievances, and rarely turned anyone away. Her subjects high and low had already been impressed with her courage and unsuspected powers of leadership during the dark days of early July, but many at court thought her a lightweight, believing that, as a woman, she would be incapable of governing. The English had never had a female sovereign, nor had they forgotten the distant period of the Anarchy in the twelfth century when the Empress Matilda had fought her cousin King Stephen for the crown, and it had been said that God and His saints slept for nineteen years. The haughty and vengeful Matilda had briefly held power, long enough for the English to decide that they did not want another queen on the throne. Yet although they had welcomed Mary with open arms, she herself regarded her sex as a real handicap, and Renard was pessimistic about her chances of governing successfully, writing to Charles V's chancellor, Cardinal Granvelle, 'I know this queen - so good, so easily influenced, inexpert in worldly affairs, and a novice all round. I will tell you honestly my opinion, that, unless God guards her, she will always be cheated and misled either by the French or her own subjects, and at last taken off by poison or some other means.'
The Venetian ambassador had similar thoughts, and reported that real authority lay, not with the Queen, but in the hands of the Council, 'who are the lords of the kingdom'. And Mary of Hungary expressed the conventional view of a woman ruler when she opined to Charles V,
A woman is never feared or respected as a man is, whatever her rank. In time of war it is entirely impossible for a woman to govern satisfactorily. All she can do is shoulder responsibility for mistakes committed by others.
Mary was, indeed, a political innocent, incapable of subtlety or the ability to dissemble. Unlike the other Tudor monarchs, who made a virtue of expediency, she ruled according to the dictates of her conscience, which sometimes made her a formidable person to deal with, for she could be ruthless in carrying out what she believed to be her duty. But if her conscience did not point the way, then she suffered agonies of indecision; if it did, she never lacked the courage of her convictions. An objective viewpoint was beyond her; she was single-minded to a fault. The quality she admired most in anyone was goodness, which was a quality she herself could boast. The Venetian ambassador, Giovanni Michieli, asserted 'There never was a queen in Christendom of greater goodness than this one.' People also admired her for her clemency, her integrity and the staunchness with which she had held to her faith through years of persecution and fear.
The Queen was particularly anxious to ensure that justice was dealt out fairly in her name, instructing her judges to sit, 'not as advocates for me, but as indifferent [i.e.impartial] judges between me and my people'. She was determined to rule only by the advice and consent of Parliament, and remained deaf to Renard's hints about establishing an absolute monarchy.
Mary's court was ceremonious and dignified, but it lacked the splendour and extravagance of her father's. It was also staid to the point of dullness, and generally free from scandal and licentiousness. The Queen enjoyed music, dancing and drama — during the first year of her reign she paid out over £2000 in salaries to musicians and actors. Her preferred entertainments were comedies or morality plays, but these did not compare with the sumptuous pageants and masques that had been staged in Henry VIII's early years. In fact such things had become extravagant luxuries now, since the country was almost bankrupt when the Queen succeeded. Scholars and artists did not frequent the court because Mary was not of an intellectual bent and could not afford to patronise them anyway. She did restore the choir of the Chapel Royal, where mass was said daily from 8 August 1553, and punctiliously observed the old pre-Reformation traditions, such as appointing a Lord of Misrule at Yuletide, or creeping to the Cross and blessing cramp rings on Good Friday, as well as touching sufferers of scrofula, the 'King's Evil', to effect a miraculous cure.
From the first, the Queen set an example of religious devotion, having six or seven masses sung each day in her chapel, which her councillors were zealous in attending. Her courtiers followed suit, not wishing to offend their mistress, and the court became a centre of Catholic piety.
The Queen rose early, spending several hours of each day at prayer, and the rest of the time conferring with her Council, which met each morning with Gardiner in the chair, or attending to state business. Often, she did not lay down her pen or cease reading official papers until late at night. Constant hard work took its toll of a constitution already undermined by ill-health: Mary suffered miseries from headaches and palpitations. Her doctors prescribed tonics and regular bleeding, but these had little effect.
Mary's only extravagance was her rich attire, as her Wardrobe Books testify. The Venetian envoy Soranzo commented on her 'great use of jewels, in which she delights greatly, and although she has plenty of them left her by her predecessors, yet were she better supplied with money than she is, she would doubtless buy many more'. She changed her outfits several times each day, and appeared in cloth of silver or gold even when attending to routine duties. The Queen affected extravagant clothes not only for the pleasure of wearing them, but also as an outward manifestation of her royal state, monarchs in that age being expected to look and dress the part. Soon after her accession she commissioned from the artist Hans Eworth a state portrait of herself, of which she was inordinately proud, and the French ambassador told Queen Catherine de' Medici that the highest compliment she could pay Queen Mary would be to ask for a portrait of her.
To her friends and servants Mary was the soul of generosity, liberal with money and valuable gifts. To the poor, she was compassionate and bountiful; once, whilst staying at the Archbishop of Canterbury's palace at Croydon, Surrey, she dressed up as a private gentlewoman and visited some humble homes incognito, speaking to the farmers and their wives with such 'plainness and affability' that they concluded she was one of the Queen's maids. Her maid-of-honour and friend, Jane Dormer, who often went with her on similar charitable missions elsewhere, remembered how, if there was a child in the house, the Queen would give the parents more money, advising them to live thriftily and in the fear of God. Dormer was 'particularly favoured and affected' by Mary, and often shared her bed at night, a privilege also extended to the Marchioness of Exeter, another close friend, during the early months of the reign. Dormer had charge of the Queen's jewels, and cut her meat - the Queen's favourite dish was wild boar - at table. Mary was so fond of her that she declared no man was good enough for her, and refused permission for her to marry on several occasions.
In public, Mary was regal and dignified. She could converse with foreign ambassadors in Latin and French and could understand Spanish and Italian too, although she could not speak either well. The Spanish envoys found her 'great-hearted, proud and magnanimous', and 'inclined to talk about her exalted station'. Her first coins bore the motto ' Veritas temporis filia - Truth, the daughter of time' as if to underline her miraculous triumph over her enemies. Soranzo tells how she was fond of saying, 'In Thee, O Lord, is my trust; let me never be confounded. If God is for us, who can be against us?'
Renard distrusted the 'enchantments' of Elizabeth, who was very popular and much admired. During the early weeks of the reign, the Queen often appeared in public with her sister in the place of honour at her side, holding her hand affectionately, but it was not long before Mary began suggesting that Elizabeth attend mass with her. Elizabeth hedged. She had no wish to alienate the Queen, yet nor did she desire to lose her Protestant supporters. Mary was aware of her reluctance, but continued to put pressure on her, becoming increasingly exasperated when Elizabeth still refused. It was no secret that she had embraced the reformed faith with fervour during Edward's reign, and she still wore a golden book, two inches square and containing her brother's deathbed prayer, at her waist. Mary was determined to bring Elizabeth back into the Catholic fold, for it was unthinkable that her heir should be a Protestant.
By the end of August, all the old antagonism between the sisters had surfaced again. Theirs could never be an easy relationship because the past would always lie like a sword between them, but now they were in open conflict about religion. Seeing this, the French ambassador, Antoine de Noailles, began to court Elizabeth's favour. De Noailles was of noble family and as wily as a cat; he retained a large network of paid informers, including the Venetian ambassador; Mary had no love for him because he had openly supported Northumberland, and suspected that he was even now working against her. Indeed, his brief was to do all in his power to discountenance her, because the French knew she was in the pocket of the Emperor, France's enemy. This meant worming his way into Elizabeth's confidence, with a view to setting her up as a rival for the crown. Not that Henry II wished to see Elizabeth on England's throne; when she had served her purpose she would be discarded, for his real aim was to secure England for his daughter-in-law, Mary, Queen of Scots. If Elizabeth could be induced to rebel against her sister, though, or even set herself up at the head of an opposing faction, that should keep Mary far too busy to consider involving England in the Emperor's conflict with the French.
Elizabeth responded favourably to de Noailles's compliments, and soon the two were great friends. Renard warned the Queen that her sister was a heretic who was intriguing with the French; Elizabeth's popularity, he said, was a threat to Mary's security. The girl was clever, ambitious and sly. Mary admitted that, despite her public behaviour and her sincere efforts to nurture fraternal affection, she found it impossible to hide her dislike for the daughter of the woman whom her mother had always referred to as 'the Concubine'. Every time she looked at Elizabeth, she saw Anne Boleyn and remembered the misery she had caused her. She would take Renard's advice and keep an eye on her.
The ambassador then counselled Mary once more to have Jane Grey executed, but still she would not hear of it. Jane and her husband would remain in the Tower, she said, until such time as it was safe to grant them pardons and release them. They would be tried and condemned, as a matter of form, but her conscience would not permit her to put them to death, even though they had technically committed treason. Renard argued that this was unwise, and Gardiner was of the same opinion, but Mary heeded neither of them. In fact, she had been very impressed by a lengthy letter sent her by Jane on 5 August, giving a full and honest account of her nine days' reign without making too many excuses for herself. What came across very clearly to the Queen was that Jane had had no choice in the matter, even though she had admitted that she had done wrong in accepting the crown and was 'ashamed to ask pardon for such a crime'.
'No one can ever say that I sought it or that I was pleased with it,' Jane wrote. 'All these things I have wished to say for the witness of my innocence and the disburdening of my conscience.' The Queen would only assure Renard that she would be watchful in case Lady Jane became the focus of any further conspiracy, and would ensure that the realm was quiet before she set her free, at which the ambassador expressed the hope that she would not regret such extraordinary clemency. He would not rest easy until she had agreed to 'the obliteration of the whole house of Suffolk'. Meanwhile, in the Tower, Jane remained busy at her books, denouncing the mass as 'the swill of strangers'.
The Emperor had urged Mary to go cautiously in religious matters, and initially she moved carefully, exhorting her subjects 'not to revile each other'. However, Mary had been out of touch with the English people for some time, and did not realise how deeply divided they were over issues of faith. She believed that their rapturous reception of her as queen was confirmation that they would also welcome the return to the Roman Catholic fold which was her dearest wish. It was her firm belief that those who had turned Protestant had done so under pressure from the government in her brother's time, and would happily revert now to the true faith.
Her next step was to declare her intention of restoring the mass and the religious settlement that had existed at Henry VIII's death, with herself as Supreme Head of the Church; she intended to surrender that title when the time was ripe for a return to Rome, but in the meantime she would make use of it to bring about a counter-Reformation. On 12 August, she told her Council, 'It is not our intention to compel or constrain other men's consciences.' All she intended was for them to be brought to the truth by God or the offices of'godly, virtuous and learned preachers'.
However, according to Renard, English Catholics were already predicting that 'God would soon take pity on His people and the Church in England through the instrument of a virgin called Mary, whom He has raised to the throne', while extreme Protestants weretaking part in rowdy demonstrations and riots in London, even hurling a dagger at a priest who celebrated mass in St Paul's. The stage was set for a bitter religious confrontation.
At nine o'clock in the morning of 8 August, Edward VI, or the body said to be his, was buried in Westminster Abbey with Archbishop Cranmer and John Scory, Bishop of Chichester, conducting the Protestant funeral service 'with scant ceremony'. At the same time, Gardiner was celebrating a requiem mass in the Queen's private chapel in the Tower. Mary had also ordered that masses be sung for her brother's soul 'perpetually and for ever'. Elizabeth did not attend either service.
When Pope Julius III received Mary's letter early in August, he expressed surprise and great delight that the Queen should seek to reconcile the Church of England to the Church of Rome, and then appointed her cousin, Cardinal Reginald Pole, papal legate to England. Pole's duties, however, were restricted for the present to doing nothing more than gathering information through his contacts about public opinion in England. The Cardinal began writing letters at once, and he also started a correspondence with the Queen which was to continue for more than a year. In his view, there was no time to lose, for souls were daily perishing, cast out from the communion of the Church, and he exhorted Mary, as a true daughter of that Church, to undo the evil her father had done. Mary would have heeded his words had not Charles V, through Renard, persuaded her that Pole was a well-intentioned idealist who was completely out of touch with English affairs; Charles wished the credit for the Counter Reformation in England to go to his son Philip, or himself, not Pole - though he of course said nothing of this to Mary. The Queen therefore wrote back to Pole, stressing that although she was zealous to do his bidding, there were political obstacles that must first be overcome. By way of reply, Pole asked if 'that other Mary' would have refused St Peter admission to her house.
Mary answered that her task would be considerably easier if he persuaded the Pope to allow all those who had profited through the redistribution of church property that had followed the dissolution of the monasteries to keep their lands, as this was the issue likeliest to make Parliament hesitate. Pole was horrified that such temporal concerns should be allowed to stand in the way of the unity of the Church and refused to consider granting her request. At this point Charles V, fearing that Pole's single-mindedness would wreck his plans whilst they were still in their infancy, began to put pressure on the Pope to keep
Pole out of England until the Queen, hopefully supported by Philip, was in a strong enough position to dictate her own terms to the legate.
Born in 1500, Reginald Pole was the son of Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, Mary's beloved childhood governess, and the great-nephew of Edward IV and Richard III; the blood of the Plantagenet kings ran in his veins, and when Mary was young her mother and his had fondly hoped that they would marry. Reginald was a clever child, and Henry VIII became his patron, sponsoring his education and sending him to study for a time in Italy. The young man took deacon's orders and helped the King to canvass the universities for approval of the annulment of his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. However, Pole quickly became convinced that the King's pangs of conscience about marrying his brother's wife were inspired mainly by lust for Anne Boleyn, so he returned to Italy and wrote a furious and defamatory denunciation of the man who had been a generous benefactor to him. Henry responded with righteous anger and made it clear that, if Pole were to return to England, he would be dealt with as a traitor. Pole remained in Italy, finding favour with the Pope and being given a cardinal's hat in 1536. However, his family suffered persecution for his sake, and his mother was brutally executed on the flimsiest pretext in 1541, Pole having been attainted as a traitor at the same time. These events caused him much anguish, and he took to calling himself the son of a martyr.
Cardinal Pole had never returned home, although he wished to, but had risen to prominence in the Vatican and narrowly missed being elected Pope in 1549. A religious progressive, but never inclined towards Lutheranism, he had associated with humanists and those who wished to reform the Catholic Church from within, and had earned a reputation as a fine diplomat and an authority on church matters. However, he was no statesman.
Pole had an austere temperament, and was a talented, high-minded scholar, who had no desire to play a public role yet did so for duty's sake. He had high ideals but poor judgement and, although he claimed 'to know thoroughly the sentiments of the [English] people with regard to the Holy See', he had little real understanding of the changes that had taken place in England during the twenty years of his exile. According to Renard, Mary had more regard for Pole than for all the members of her Council put together. There was even talk that, cardinal though he was, she would marry him.
As a virgin who had lived a quiet and virtuous life, the Queen was overcome by modesty whenever her marriage came under discussion, as it did freqtntly in the early months of her reign. When she could be persuaded tcspk of such a delicate matter, she made it clear that she would choostihusband 'as God inspired her' without having regard to 'fleshly consJntions'. Her choice was naturally dictated by political and religiousBors, which at that time went hand in hand, and she was well aware tliut thirty-seven, she had no time to waste if she was to present her subjects with an heir who would maintain the Catholic faith in Englund.
In August 1553, there were rumours that Mary would marry Cardinal Polt,"ho had never been ordained a priest and could easily have been cbed by the Pope from his deacon's vows, but Pole himself vetdthis idea, and warned Mary that her best course was to stay single. No one took any notice of this advice, and Gardiner suggested thitfe Queen marry the man whom Renard called 'the last sprig of the White Rose' of Plantagenet, his protege Edward Courtenay.
Courtenanis twenty-seven, the great-grandson of Edward IV. His father, HeniyCourtenay, Marquess of Exeter, had been executed by Henry VIII in 1538, and the boy had thereafter been shut up for fifteen years in the Tower of London on the grounds that his royal blood posed a threiuo the Tudor dynasty. Provision had been made for a tutor for hin and he had devoted himself 'to all virtuous and praiseworth)studies', translating religious tracts from Italian into English, leaning several languages and becoming a competent musician andimst. But his formative years had been spent in stultifying isolation, ami when he was set free he had 'neither spirit nor experience' nd was unable even to ride a horse, an essential accomplishiotfor a gentleman of his rank.
Foreign ambasadors were unanimous in their opinion that Courtenay was an extraordinarily handsome young man; he was fair in colouring, fill, elegant and graceful, with 'a civility which must be deemed natanlrather than acquired by the habit of society'. He came, moreover, ftnone of the greatest Catholic families in the country and had remaindme to the faith. What was not immediately apparent was that he was ito shallow, self-indulgent, vain, irresponsible, weak and untrustwortk Renard thought him 'proud, obstinate and vindictive in the extreme'. Even de Noailles - who wanted Mary to marry Courtenay, if only to wrest her from the clutches of the Imperialists -said he was 'isinaladroit as can be believed', and already people at court were pokinttaat his naivety and ignorance of polite society.
During his years in the Tower, Courtenay had come to know Gardiner, aiow prisoner, well, since they were allowed to exercise together in the Lieutenant's garden, and a touching friendship sprang up between the two. The younger man came to refer to the Bishop as his father, and Gardiner certainly looked upon Courtenay as the son he had never had. There was therefore a strong element of personal gratification in Gardiner's suggestion that the Queen marry Courtenay, and some believed that 'Wily Winchester' had his own interests chiefly at heart.
It was not such a far-fetched idea, though, because most of Mary's subjects wanted her to marry an Englishman, and here was one of the ancient blood royal. No other Englishman had such excellent credentials. Gardiner spoke warmly to Mary of Courtenay's good character, and told her that by marrying him she would be bowing to public opinion, while two thirds of the Council were in favour of the match. Courtenay had been a popular candidate from the first, and rumours that the Queen would choose him had been circulating since her accession. After she granted him a fine house in London, speculation grew and most councillors expressed themselves in favour of the match. Naturally, the rumours were relayed to an alarmed Charles V, who at once instructed Renard to put Mary off the idea, saying that Courtenay was far too inexperienced. Of Courtenay's well-documented visits to brothels, where he was making up for lost time, the ambassador was to say nothing in case the Queen did marry him, in which case she would hold Renard's slanders against him.
Mary, however, had already made up her mind, telling Gardiner that Courtenay was not to her liking; he was too lowly in rank, too young and untried. Worse still, she had heard he was visiting prostitutes. Renard had added fuel to the fire by telling her that those councillors who favoured the match were in the pocket of the French ambassador; this had the desired effect of putting her off Courtenay completely.
At this point Renard received instructions from the Emperor that, during his audiences with the Queen, he was to hint at the advantages of a marriage with Prince Philip. Under no circumstances was the matter to be rushed, for the English would need time to acclimatise themselves to the idea of their Queen marrying a foreigner. Renard felt that Philip's proposal, when it came, 'would be the most welcome news that could be given [Mary]', for he had heard she 'had no wish to marry an Englishman'.
Renard said nothing to the Queen at this stage, but de Noailles had already anticipated that the Emperor would suggest a match between Mary and Philip and warned Henry II that such a marriage would result in 'perpetual calamity' for all Christendom. For his part, de Noailles would do everything in his power to promote the match with Courtenay or the claims of the Lady Elizabeth.
In the middle of August, Mary left the Tower and took up residence at Richmond Palace. The time had now come to make a statement of her intentions with regard to religion, and on 18 August, she issued a proclamation affirming her own devotion to the Catholic faith and her hope that her subjects would embrace it as fervently. However, she 'mindeth not to compel any of her subjects thereunto' until such time as a new determination was made 'by common consent' of Parliament. In the meantime, the clergy were forbidden to preach, which effectively removed the most powerful weapon of the reformers. Already, the old faith - still officially outlawed - was gaining ground, particularly outside London and, in the capital as elsewhere, altars were being set up again and crucifixes replaced. There were, nevertheless, many Protestants prepared to resist any attempt to enforce uniformity of worship upon them and disrupt the celebration of mass. The Queen, in her proclamation, was not advocating tolerance; she simply could not credit that anyone would wish to follow any faith other than hers, and her undertaking not to compel any man to go against his conscience was only an interim concession. What she did promise was that there would be no disturbance of existing titles to lands formerly belonging to the Church.
A number of Protestant priests defied the royal edict banning preaching, and many were arrested during the following weeks. Several bishops, including John Hooper, John Rogers, Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley, were deprived of their sees and imprisoned. Archbishop Cranmer was arrested and sent to the Tower on 14 September for criticising the mass. Reformist printers had their presses confiscated, and many feared that the old anti-heresy laws would be revived, thus sparking a wave of religious persecution. Consequently there began a steady, but stealthy exodus of around 800 Protestants to the Continent. The government refused to issue religious refugees with the necessary passports, but initially made no effort to stop them from going, and even encouraged the more subversive among them to seek exile. One who left that year was Katherine Carey, wife of Sir Francis Knollys and first cousin to the Lady Elizabeth. Katherine's mother had been Mary, sister of Anne Boleyn. After she left, Elizabeth wrote to her:
The length of time and distance of place separates not the love of friends. My power but small, my love as great as them whose gifts may tell their friendships' tale...
Your loving cousin and ready friend, Elizabeth, Cor Rotto [broken heart].
On 18 August, Northumberland was tried by his peers for high treason in Westminster Hall and found guilty. The trial was presided over by the Duke of Norfolk as Earl Marshal of England, who sentenced the prisoner to a traitor's death: hanging, drawing and quartering, 'his heart to be drawn from his body and flung against his face'. The Queen mercifully commuted this to beheading. Northumberland had confessed all his crimes and had knelt, weeping and begging for mercy, but in vain. Many onlookers shed tears to see him in such a miserable state. The next day Sir John Gates and Sir Thomas Palmer were also condemned to die.
Northumberland did not believe that the Queen would really have him executed. After his plea for mercy had failed, he announced that he wished to convert to the Catholic faith, hoping that that would avert the Queen's desire for vengeance. He asked Gardiner to visit him and told the Bishop, 'I would do penance all the days of my life, if it were but in a mousehole. Is there no hope of mercy?'
'I think that you must die,' Gardiner replied gravely.
'I can be of no other faith but yours,' cried the Duke, bursting into tears. 'I never was any other indeed. I complied in King Edward's days only out of ambition, for which I pray God to forgive me, and I promise I will declare that at my death.'
His distress was so great that the crusty Gardiner broke down too, but even Northumberland's public conversion to Catholicism on 19 August did not save him. Mary, hearing of it from Gardiner, who pleaded with her to spare him, contemplated a stay of execution, but Renard, whose advice she now heeded more than any other's, insisted that she let the law take its course. On 23 August, the Duke mounted the scaffold on Tower Hill in front of 10,000 onlookers, who were in an ugly mood and had to be held back by halberdiers. He confessed to them that he was a 'wretched sinner and most justly condemned'. His conversion, he declared, had been unfeigned. As he knelt before the block, he said, 'I have deserved a thousand deaths.'
A cloth was tied around his eyes as he prayed: 'In manuas tuas, Domine...' The cloth slipped, and he had to rise again, visibly distressed, in order to retrieve it. Then, clenching his hands together in prayer, he knelt again and bent his head. It was severed in one blow. His body was carried to the Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula within the Tower, where it was interred next to those of Anne Boleyn, Katherine Howard and the Duke of Somerset.
Lady Jane Grey had viewed her father-in-law's conversion with disgust. She was still in the Tower, but Mary had relaxed the restrictions governing her confinement, and Jane was now allowed onto the wall-walks with Guilford. She was still writing viciously anti-Catholic diatribes, yet was hopeful of the Queen's clemency. She was comfortably lodged with Master Partridge, and dined with him and his wife, sitting 'at the board's end' in the place of honour.
On 29 August, Jane was informed that she and Guilford were to stand trial, but that a royal pardon would undoubtedly follow. She received the news cheerfully, and praised the Queen as a merciful princess. Then she returned to her books and her studies, with which she occupied her time. In October, she would be sixteen.
At the end of August, Renard reported that Elizabeth was showing a more than friendly interest in Courtenay, and from that time onwards, her name was inextricably linked to his. De Noailles was undoubtedly responsible for this: he had ingratiated himself with Elizabeth, and was carefully cultivating Courtenay, frequently inviting him to supper and persuading the gullible young man that, if the Queen would not marry him, her sister might; with their Plantagenet and Tudor blood intermingled, they would stand as youthful and charismatic figureheads for both Catholic and Protestant subjects of the Queen, and, as leaders of a powerful opposition backed by Henry II, might overthrow Mary and so remove the threat of an Anglo-Imperial alliance from France.
On 3 September, the Queen restored Courtenay to the earldom of Devon, which had been held by his ancestors, and endowed him with lands worth £3000 per annum. She also gave him sumptuous clothes and a diamond ring of Henry VIII's worth 16,000 crowns.
Many now believed that Courtenay would become king consort, and courtiers flocked to pay court to him, kneeling as they addressed him. Pembroke presented him with a sword and horses costing 3000 crowns. The King of France wrote flattering letters to him, but he took care to give them to his mother, Lady Exeter, to pass on to the Queen. In order to win Mary's favour, he would only employ Catholics in his growing household, and did his best to become on intimate terms with those closest to her, calling Susan Clarencieux 'Mother' as he called Gardiner 'Father'. Before long, Courtenay was giving himself airs, throwing his weight about and rapidly becoming insufferable, boasting that at the coronation he would be wearing a splendid outfit in blue velvet with gold embroidery. He was somewhat disconcerted when, his words having been reported to the Queen, she sent him a curt message ordering him to wear another colour, as she herself was planning to wear blue velvet trimmed with ermine for her coronation.
Mary had no intention of marrying Courtenay. The most important issue in her life just then was religion, and by the beginning of September she thought she knew what she must do. Summoning the Imperial ambassadors, she informed them that it was her intention to restore the Church of England to the obedience of the Holy See of Rome, as it was 'before the changes took place'.
This was the first time since 1536 that Mary had spoken to anyone in England of her hopes for a reversion to Rome; she had never publicly expressed any desire other than to have the religious settlement that had existed at her father's death restored. Understandably, Renard and Scheyfve were alarmed at her resolve, telling her, 'We thought she should not go beyond the reinstitution of the mass and matters relating thereto, reverting to the condition in which they were at the time of the late King Henry's death.' They were even more alarmed when Mary informed them that she had been in constant contact with the Pope and that Cardinal Pole had been appointed legate and was coming to England. Renard begged her to consult Parliament before she allowed him into the kingdom, because her subjects would need reassurance on the subject of church property, and Pole's views were well known. It was also apparent to the ambassadors that Mary had not consulted the Council on this matter, and they urged her to tell no one but Gardiner what she had in mind, 'so that malicious people may not seize the occasion for worse plottings or machinations'. The last thing the Emperor wanted was a religious war in England.
Mary allowed herself to be convinced, and on n September reluctantly wrote to Rome, instructing that Pole should not be sent until the time was more propitious.
Meanwhile, de Noailles had heard an unfounded rumour from a courtier, of which he informed Henry II on 7 September, that Charles V had formally offered Prince Philip as a husband for Mary. Henry ordered de Noailles to do everything in his power to prevent the alliance, and the ambassador threw himself into his task enthusiastically, enlisting the support of leading Protestants and those Englishmen who were vehemently opposed to the idea of a foreign consort for the Queen. He warned whoever would listen that the Spaniards, once they had a foothold in England, would make it a satellite of the Empire and introduce the Inquisition, giving rise to the same large-scale religious persecution as was seen on the Continent. If Mary married Philip, he would not stay in England long because he had too many commitments abroad; she would be fortunate if he spent as much as a fortnight with her, and what good would that be to a queen who needed heirs? Worse still, England would be made an unwilling participant in Charles V's war with France, which she was in no position to afford. Many were ready to listen to de Noailles's warnings, and before long the ambassador found himself at the head of an anti-Imperialist faction. Gardiner also shared his views, but had no reason to trust him, knowing he was considering only the interests of France. However, since the Emperor had as yet made no formal offer of marriage, Gardiner could make no protest on his own behalf. All he could do was urge the Queen to call Parliament as soon as possible, in order to obtain support for an English match for her.
By now, however, rumours of a Spanish marriage had spread far and wide, and were being discussed in public taverns. The Council, suspicious that the Queen knew something they did not, insisted that all her audiences with the Imperial envoys take place in public. They even hinted that Renard and his colleagues should return home. Mary dealt with this by suggesting that Renard visit her in disguise, but her refusal to discuss her marriage only added to the confusion and resentment. De Noailles did not scruple to raise dissension and protest, nor to distribute anti-Spanish propaganda, while Renard, who had received no definite orders from his master, could only fret and agonise over the delay.
On 8 September, he asked Mary if the rumours about her marrying Courtenay were true. She denied it, saying she had not seen him since the day she liberated him from the Tower and that there was no one of her subjects she wished to marry. She then asked if the Emperor had made any suggestions. This was the opportunity Renard had been waiting for, and presently Philip's name was mentioned.