T he Queen was in a fever of impatience for the coming of her future husband. 'She is nothing but a poor, love-sick woman,' de Noailles told his master. In her impatience she was becoming testy and would 'curse and accuse people' and even complain about the weather. Lord William Howard, seeing his sovereign 'wrapt in thought' after a banquet one evening, pointed to the empty throne set in readiness beside hers and whispered that he wished the Prince were with her 'to drive thought and care away'. Mary blushed and began to chide him for over-familiarity, but then she broke into laughter, in which every person present joined. It was now May, and surely she would not have to wait much longer.
Preparations for Philip's coming were well advanced in England. His household of 350 persons, headed by Arundel as Lord Steward, was complete, the Queen was having a Garter insignia prepared for her husband, a party of noblemen had been dispatched to Spain to greet him, and a fleet was now patrolling the Channel in readiness to escort his ships to Southampton. But as yet Philip had failed to send a single letter to Mary, and Renard, who was embarrassed by this unforgivable omission, complained that his silence was causing scandal and concern. Belatedly, on 11 May, Philip wrote to her and sent her three sumptuous gifts: a beautiful table diamond in a rose-petal setting, which had belonged to his mother and which would please his bride for that reason alone; a necklace containing eighteen flawless diamonds in a filigree setting; and an enormous diamond from which hung a matchless pearl called 'La Peregrina', both suspended from a long gold chain - 'the most lovely pair of gems seen in the world', which Mary would favour above any others. These items were entrusted to the Marquess de Las Navas, who was acting as Philip's messenger.
The Prince's Spanish retinue was now assembled at La Coruna, his mistress had been dismissed and sent to a nunnery, and he was awaiting the arrival of his sister, who was going to act as Regent for him in Spain, but when news came that she had been delayed by illness, he decided to make a last-minute tour of his properties in Segovia, Madrid and Toledo. He also visited his mad grandmother, Queen Juana, at Tordesillas.
Early in June, the Prince's Spanish household sailed to Southampton in a fleet of 125 ships. It comprised 9000 noblemen and servants and a thousand horses and mules, and with them was carried three million gold ducats. The Marquess de Las Navas docked ahead of the main fleet on the nth. Five days later, upon receiving news of his arrival, the Queen left Whitehall on the first stage of her journey to Winchester, where her wedding was to take place. She met the Marquess at Guildford on 17 June and expressed the greatest delight at Philip's letter and gifts, and even greater pleasure at the news that the Prince himself would be with her in just two weeks. Nor was Mary the only recipient of Philip's bounty, for there were presents of precious stones - pearls, diamonds, emeralds and rubies - for her ladies also. The next day she travelled to Farnham, where she took up residence in the castle belonging to the bishops of Winchester, there to await the summons to Winchester to greet her prince.
Mary's happiness was such that she could even feel warmth towards her sister, and de Noailles noticed that she had had Elizabeth's portrait re-hung in her gallery. Yet she would not set the princess at liberty, nor allow any relaxation of the rules governing her confinement. The Emperor had suggested that Elizabeth be sent to the court of Mary of Hungary at Brussels before Philip's arrival, but Lord William Howard used his influence over the Council to veto this idea.
Early in June Elizabeth had fallen ill with another attack of what seems to have been nephritis. Her face and body became swollen and sore, and her recovery was hindered by an all-encompassing black depression. She asked Bedingfield if she might be bled in order to release the evil humours from her body, and particularly requested that the Queen's physicians, Dr George Owen, Dr Thomas Wendy and Dr Robert Huicke, whom she knew and trusted, might attend her. The Council, however, saw no reason why she could not be treated by local physicians from Oxford. When Bedingfield conveyed their decision to Elizabeth, she told him she would rather die.
'I am not minded to make any stranger privy to the estate of my body, but commit it to God,' she declared indignantly. Her obstinacy paid off, and on 12 June Bedingfield rendered his apologies to the Council for having been 'enforced, by the importunate desires of this great lady, to trouble your lordships with more letters than be contentful to mine own opinion'. This resulted in the royal doctors being dispatched to Woodstock, where they prescribed bleeding from the arm, which was done by a barber-surgeon under their supervision, followed by bleeding from the foot, this treatment to be repeated in the autumn to prevent a recurrence of the illness. Afterwards, Bedingfield reported, Elizabeth progressed 'reasonably well'.
For weeks now the princess had been asking leave to write to the Queen, and towards the end of June her request was granted. Sir Henry dutifully brought her writing materials, and she composed a letter which has not survived. Its contents, however, were sufficient to arouse Mary's wrath and prompt her to send a complaint to Bedingfield about Elizabeth's insolence, her haughty tone, and her hypocrisy. Her letter, reported Renard, had been couched in the most disrespectful and rude terms; she had addressed the Queen throughout as 'you' rather than as 'Your Majesty', and had also protested against the treatment she had received, denying that she had ever deserved it. Mary's reaction was to forbid Elizabeth to write to her again, saying that if she had any matters to communicate, she should use Bedingfield and the Council as intermediaries. Bedingfield understood this to mean that Elizabeth should not even write to the Council, at which she hotly objected, claiming that it left her 'in worse case than the worst prisoner in Newgate'. Nor would he write on her behalf, and when she saw that he would not relent, she became very downcast, moaning that she 'must continue this life without all hope worldly, wholly resting to the truth of my cause'.
This was on 3 July, but four days later came news that the Queen herself had lifted the ban and said that Elizabeth might 'write her mind' to the Council. Elizabeth responded with a request for an audience with her sister, but there was no reply, for the court was naturally preoccupied with the Queen's imminent marriage. For weeks, Elizabeth waited for a letter, growing ever more despondent and bad-tempered. Bedingfield reported that she was in a very contrary mood and that, although she was attending mass regularly, she would not join in when her chaplain enjoined his congregation to pray for the Queen's Majesty.
By 9 July, Mary had waited at Farnham for three weeks, and still Philip had not come. On that day, Renard noted, 'The officers appointed for His Highness's service have been living at Southampton at great
expense for a long time, and are now beginning to leave that place, speaking strangely of His Highness.'
In fact, Philip's household was now running out of food, not to mention patience. Mary was troubled by this, and imagining that all manner of disasters had overtaken her betrothed. In some agitation, she moved to the Earl of Wiltshire's palace at Bishop's Waltham, two miles from Southampton. This was a large, moated house, built in medieval times but boasting more modern comforts. Here, Mary waited on, growing ever more anxious.
On Friday, 12 July, in a brisk wind, Philip embarked at La Coruria in his ship the 'Espiritu Santo', a vessel beautifully painted to resemble 'a lovely flower garden' and having upholstery of crimson brocade and scarlet cloth. The Prince suffered miseries from seasickness and kept to his cabin during the voyage. Two days later the sea was calm again, and the coast of southern England was sighted. The ship dropped anchor three miles out of Southampton, and presently Philip was recovered sufficiently to receive a deputation of nobles led by Admiral Lord William Howard, who had arrived from the mainland in a small boat. The next day Philip was visited by a party of young noblemen craving entry into his household, and thereafter there could be seen a succession of small craft sailing back and forth from the Spanish flagship.
On 19 July, the entire Spanish fleet was sighted off the Isle of Wight, and on that day Lord William Howard escorted Philip's ship past the Needles and into Southampton harbour. On the following day the Marquess de Las Navas went on board the 'Espiritu Santo' to welcome his master, and was followed by an official reception committee of English lords, led by Arundel, who arrived in an elaborate gilded barge. Acting on the Queen's behalf, Arundel invested Philip with the Order of the Garter, fastening around his calf a garter encrusted with diamonds, rubies and pearls. Dinner was then served on board ship, after which the Prince, wearing a suit of black velvet and white satin, was rowed ceremoniously to shore in torrential rain.
Drawn up on the quayside were a hundred drenched archers wearing his livery, and his entire English household, all craning their necks to see him. Unfortunately, Philip had had no idea that so many people had been appointed to wait on him; he had brought all the nobles and servants he needed with him, and was now very worried about how he was going to support two large establishments and keep so many people gainfully occupied.
As the Prince stepped ashore in the wet, he was greeted by a salute of cannonfire, serenaded by the Queen's consort of minstrels, and presented with a white horse richly caparisoned in crimson velvet and gold, a gift from his bride. The Emperor's envoy, Don Juan de Figueroa, bowed and informed Philip that his father had ceded to him the kingdoms of Naples and Jerusalem so that he might go to his wedding as a monarch in his own right, on equal terms with Queen Mary, 'whereat the English lords were very pleased'. Philip said he would inform the Queen of this news before making an official announcement. He was then formally welcomed to England by Sir Anthony Browne and Bishop Gardiner, who were accompanied by virtually the entire peerage of the realm. Crowds had gathered to see Philip, and several people were trampled underfoot in the crush.
The Prince knew that a difficult task lay ahead of him: he had to marry a middle-aged woman for whom he was unlikely to feel any desire, behave well at all times to his new subjects and try to win them over, oversee the reunification of the English Church with that of Rome and hopefully take the credit for it, and persuade the English to support the Habsburgs in their war against the French.
No one could have faulted his demeanour or conduct. He exerted himself to be courteous and amiable to the English, who were 'greatly pleased with his appearance', according to Figueroa. What no one knew was that Philip intended to stay in the country for a week at most; on 29 June, the fortress of Marienbourg (now Aluksne in Latvia) on the Emperor's north German border had been taken by the French, and Philip had been ordered by his father to come to his aid as soon as he decently could. The Prince had already agreed to do so, and had secretly instructed his servants not to unload the horses. Yet by no word or gesture did he betray that he was a man in a hurry.
After giving thanks in the Church of the Holy Rood for his safe arrival in England, Philip, riding his new horse and soaked to the skin, was escorted to his lodgings, which were hung with tapestries depicting the triumphs of Henry VIII. That evening, at a banquet in his honour, he delivered a speech in Latin, saying, 'I have not left my own country to augment my estate or the greatness of my power; on the contrary God has summoned me to be the husband of the Queen your mistress, and I will not refuse His divine will. For this purpose I have crossed the sea to live with that lady and with you. As long as you are faithful subjects, I will be your good prince.' There was warm applause, which increased when the Prince made a point of downing a glass of good English beer, which he appeared to enjoy. Then, to the gratification of his hosts, he turned to his Spanish nobles and told them to forget all their old customs, for from henceforth they must live like Englishmen.
The next morning was also wet. Philip was up early to receive Gardiner, who presented him with a diamond ring from the Queen. The Prince thanked him fulsomely, and then fortuitously found a ring of his own to send back to her. He stayed three days in Southampton, sleeping late in the mornings, then receiving members of the Council who came to kiss his hand. On 23 July, resplendent in a red cloak and doublet and breeches of white satin studded with diamonds and embroidered with gold, he rode off with a great retinue, again in pouring rain, towards Winchester, where he would meet his bride, and where they would be married on 25 July, the feast day of St James of Compostella, patron saint of Spain. Late in the afternoon, Philip stopped at the Hospital of St Cross outside Winchester to change into a suit of black and white velvet adorned with bugles of gold thread.
At around six o'clock in the evening the Prince's procession entered the city and wound its way to the cathedral, where Gardiner and four other bishops welcomed Philip and sang a Te Deum. So many people were crammed into the building that 'they were all in danger of stifling'. Afterwards, accompanied by torch-bearers, the Prince was taken to his lodgings in the nearby Dean's House, bowing to the crowds on the way. Mary was staying in Wolvesey Palace, the Bishop's residence, of which only ruins remain today.
At ten o'clock, after eating supper and changing into yet another splendid ensemble, on this occasion a suit of white kid with a surcoat embroidered in silver and gold and a hat with a long plume, Philip, described by one of his entourage as looking Very gallant' and accompanied by twelve Spanish and Flemish gentlemen, was conducted through the cathedral grounds and the private gardens of the palace, to where Mary awaited him in the long gallery. She too had dressed herself carefully, in a gown of black velvet with a silver underskirt, 'cut high in the English style and without any trimming', and loaded herself with jewels. With her waited her ladies, her councillors and courtiers.
When the Queen heard footsteps approaching up the stairs, she almost ran to the door, and then suddenly she was face to face with her future husband. Modestly, she kissed her own hand before taking his, but he smiled and kissed her on the mouth 'in the English fashion'. 'Of visage he is well-favoured,' reported a Scottish observer, 'with a broad forehead and grey eyes, straight-nosed, and [with a] manly countenance. His face is princely, with a yellow head and a yellow beard. He is .well-proportioned of body, arm, leg, and every other limb.' Mary, obviously delighted with what she saw, 'very lovingly, yea, and most joyfully, received him'. Philip took her hand and led her through to her presence chamber in the West Hall of the Palace, where, in the company of ten elderly courtiers, they sat on the thrones beneath the canopy of estate and conversed for half an hour.
What language they chose to speak is something of a mystery. Philip knew no English, so it may have been Spanish, for Mary had been taught it by her mother; however, the Venetian ambassador Michieli states that, although she understood Spanish, she could not speak it, and she certainly needed the services of an interpreter when she met the Duchess of Alba later on. She could speak French fluently, but Philip could not, although he understood it. Fortunately both knew Latin, and it may be that it was in this tongue that they communicated. Observers noticed that the Queen chatted animatedly while Philip responded quietly and courteously.
Then Lord William Howard appeared and began making bluff sailors' jokes about their imminent wedding, the bride's charms and the undoubted virility of the bridegroom. Fortunately, Mary was rescued from this banter when Philip's gentlemen came forward to be presented. Returning the compliment, she rose and took the Prince into the next room, where her ladies were waiting to meet him. They curtsied, but he raised them and kissed them all on the lips, as was customary in England.
All too soon it was time for Philip to leave, for the hour was late, but Mary insisted on detaining him for more private talk.
'No wonder she is so glad to get him and to see what a gallant swain he is,' commented a watching Spaniard. Eventually, the Prince asked Mary if she would teach him some words of farewell to say to the English lords. With obvious pleasure she whispered something in his ear, then he rose, took leave of her, and said, 'Good night, my lords all.' This made a very good impression.
Although one of Philip's Spanish courtiers reported that Mary was 'rather handsome than otherwise', others were less complimentary. Ruy Gomez, the Prince's closest friend and advisor, described her as 'rather older than we had been told. She is not at all beautiful and is small and flabby rather than fat. She is of white complexion and fair, and has no eyebrows.'
His words almost certainly reflected Philip's own impression, since the Prince often confided in Gomez. One Spaniard complained that Mary had lost most of her teeth, while another opined that, although she was 'a perfect saint', she 'dresses badly'. Gomez thought she would look a lot better if she wore Spanish dress. These comments were supported by a description of the Queen penned three weeks earlier Vy a Venetian envoy, who stated she was 'of low stature, red and white complexion, and very thin. Were not her age on the decline, she might be called beautiful.'
On the morning of the next day, which was the eve of their marriage, Mary sent Philip a gift of two magnificent suits to wear at the wedding ceremony. One had a surcoat of cloth-of-gold in the French style, with the roses of England and the pomegranates of Spain delineated in gold beads and seed pearls, and eighteen buttons fashioned from table diamonds. In the afternoon the royal couple met again in the vast East Hall of Wolvesey Palace, where they 'pleasantly talked and communed together, each of them merrily smiling on the other, to the great comfort and joy of the beholders'.
The crowds were out in force on Wednesday, 25 July 1554, when, at ten in the morning, preceded by his nobles, Philip went in procession to Winchester Cathedral, where he sat in a side-chapel to await his bride. He was elegandy attired in one of the outfits she had sent him, a full-length robe of cloth-of-gold lined with crimson satin and banded with crimson velvet and pearl buttons, with matching doublet and breeches, which he had chosen in preference to the other because, as he noted years later, it was too ornate. The cathedral, which had been hung with rich tapestries, was packed with courtiers and dignitaries.
At 10:30 the Queen — wearing cloth of gold, with her train borne by Lady Margaret Douglas and the Marchioness of Winchester — arrived with her Privy Council, peers and ladies, entering through the west door into the choir, where a circular wooden platform draped with purple had been erected. Here, Philip joined her, and together they ascended the five steps and knelt to be shriven by Bishop Gardiner, who then conducted the marriage ceremony in both Latin and English. The Queen was given away by the Marquess of Winchester and the Earls of Pembroke, Derby and Bedford, on behalf of the nation. According to the contemporary Chronicle ofQueenJane and Two Years of Queen Mary, the ring that was placed on Mary's finger was, by her own choice, 'a plain hoop of gold' because 'maidens were so married in old times'. The oak chair in which she sat during the ceremony is still on display in the cathedral.
When the marriage service was concluded, 'all the people gave a great shout, praying God to send themjoy'. Gardiner then announced that the Emperor had ceded the kingdoms of Naples and Jerusalem to Prince Philip, who was also, by virtue of his marriage, King of England.
The Earls of Derby and Pembroke, bearing swords of honour, led Mary and Philip, who walked hand in hand, through the choir to the high altar, Their Majesties processing under a canopy of estate borne by four knights. High mass was then celebrated by Gardiner and five other bishops with due splendour, the office being sung by the pure voices of the Children of the Chapel Royal and the cathedral choir, accompanied by the majestic sound of the organ, 'using such sweet proportion of music and harmony as the like was never before invented or heard'. Several Spanish observers noticed that during the hour-long service, the Queen 'never took her eyes off the Sacrament'. Afterwards, to the sound of trumpets, Garter King of Arms solemnly proclaimed the rulers' new titles in Latin, French and English: 'Philip and Mary, by the grace of God, King and Queen of England, France, Naples, Jerusalem, Ireland, Defenders of the Faith, Princes of Spain and Sicily, Archdukes of Austria, Dukes of Milan, Burgundy and Brabant, Counts of Habsburg, Flanders and Tyrol.'
After leaving the cathedral at three o'clock to the sound of fanfares, the King and Queen walked, still holding hands, under a canopy of estate to Wolvesey Palace for a splendid nuptial banquet lasting for three hours, served in the East Hall, which had been decorated with hangings of cloth-of-gold and silk. Seated at the high table with Bishop Gardiner, and served by the nobility of England, Mary ate off gold plates and Philip ate off silver plates, a slight that did not go unnoticed by the King's Spanish courtiers, who hoped that it would be rectified after Philip's coronation. During the banquet minstrels played and the royal heralds distributed alms for the poor, whilst the rest of the guests ate standing up beside four long tables. Then the royal couple led the company in dancing 'after the German fashion', Mary proving by far the better dancer. At nine, they retired to their private apartments and were served supper in separate rooms, after which they made their way to the lodging that had been prepared for them. On the door, placed there by order of Gardiner, was a plaque bearing a Latin verse:
Thou art happy, house, right blest, and blest again,
That shortly shalt such noble guests retain.
In deference to the Queen's rank and modesty, only a few selected courtiers attended the public bedding ceremony. Gardiner blessed the conjugal bed, then he and the guests discreetly withdrew, leaving Philip and Mary, still wearing their wedding clothes and 'great quantities of jewellery', alone together for the first time. An anonymous Spaniard wrote, 'What happened that night only they know. If they give us a son our joy will be complete.'
On the morning after the wedding, Philip was up and working at his desk at seven o'clock; he attended mass twice that day and took his meals alone. When his Spanish nobles came to call on the Queen in the morning, her ladies were shocked and barred the door, protesting that it was 'not honest' to call on a bride just after her wedding night, for English custom decreed that a queen remain in seclusion until the second day after her nuptials. The Spaniards tried to explain that in their country it was traditional to greet their monarchs in bed on the morning after a royal marriage, but could not make themselves understood.
Mary, meanwhile, was writing to her father-in-law to thank him 'for allying me with a prince so full of virtues that the realm's honour and tranquillity will certainly be thereby increased. This marriage renders me happier than I can say, as I daily discover in the King my husband so many virtues and perfections that I constantly pray God to grant me grace to please him, and behave in all things as befits one who is so deeply embounden to him.'
The following days were taken up with 'such triumphs, banquets, singing, masquing and dancing as was never in England heretofore. To see the King's Majesty and the Queen sitting under the cloth of estate in the hall where they dined, and also in the Chamber of Presence at dancing time, where both Their Majesties danced, it should seem another world.' Philip spent these crucial days being shown the local sights, attending to private business, going to mass, getting to know Mary's councillors, discussing state papers and learning how the English administration worked. Fortunately, word had come that the French troops had been beaten back by Imperial forces, which meant that there was no longer a pressing need for him to leave England so soon. The Emperor wished him to remain with his wife for the present, 'busying himself with the government of England' and devoting his energies to the important task of reconciling the English Church to Rome. Nevertheless, Philip secretly arranged for a ship to be prepared in readiness for his passage to Brussels.
'Our marriage has gone off admirably,' reported Ruy Gomez. 'I am sure they will be very happy, and Our Lord will do the rest.' On the surface the auguries were good, but already there were hidden tensions. There is no doubt that Mary had fallen in love — or at the least become infatuated - with Philip, or the image he presented, the moment she saw him. Starved of affection from her childhood, deprived of the fulfilment of sexual love and children during her adult years, she was ready to lavish all her frustrated emotions on the husband she had acquired so late in life, a husband who could give her all the things she held dear: a link with her mother's country, the prospect of a Catholic heir to England, the furtherance of her desire to be reconciled to the Pope, and the weight of his masculine authority to make her task easier. For the first time since she was ten, when her father's eye had first lighted on Anne Boleyn, she was truly happy.
Mary had stressed that she had not entered into the marriage for carnal reasons, and according to Ruy Gomez, it was as well Philip understood this, for 'he treats the Queen very kindly and well knows how to pass over the fact that she is no good from the point of view of fleshly sensuality'. With his male friends the King made it plain that, for him, this was a marriage of convenience only, and that he was not attracted to Mary. He even complained to one gentleman that her portrait painters had flattered her in order to conceal the truth from him. Gomez commented, with feeling, 'To speak frankly, it will take God himself to drink this cup.' Soon, some members of Philip's entourage were asking, 'What shall the King do with such an old bitch?' and alleging that Mary was old enough to be his mother. Gomez had nothing but praise for the 'tactful and attentive' way in which his master dealt with a wife who could offer him little in the way of sexual satisfaction, for the royal couple gave every appearance of being content and devoted; 'He makes her so happy that the other day, when they were alone, she almost talked love talk to him, and he replied in the same vein,' noted Gomez. Mary certainly had no idea that her husband found her less than attractive, and nor had Renard, who told the Emperor: 'The royal couple are bound together by such deep love that the marriage may be expected to be a perfect union.'
Emotionally, it was an unequal partnership, for Philip could never reciprocate Mary's deep devotion. Nor did he feel her equal as a sovereign, for he was not allowed any power but what she would permit, which he and his compatriots regarded as an intolerable and dishonourable position to be in. Mary naturally deferred to him in most things, and he soon replaced Renard as her chief confidant. It was also reassuring for her to have at her side someone of equal rank to advise her, after having to struggle alone and deal with her troublesome, squabbling councillors. However, if she disagreed with his wishes she could be very stubborn, and would only comply with them if they matched her own. This was not the usual behaviour of a wife in the sixteenth century, when women were expected to obey their husbands without question, but then a queen regnant was a novelty also, and in view of her position could not be expected to conform as other women did. Nevertheless, when Cardinal Pole wrote to Mary after her marriage, he exhorted her to pray for Philip as 'a man who, more than all other, in his own acts, reproduces God's image, which God did send into the world in holiness and justice'.
If English gossip spoke true, then this man cast in God's image was soon indulging in 'gross licentiousness' with women of the court behind the Queen's back. One tale recounted how he had spied upon the statuesque Lady Magdalen Dacre whilst she was in her dressing room, and then attracted her notice as he reached through the door to touch her. Lady Magdalen was said to have seized a staff and brought it down painfully on the royal arm. A Protestant pamphlet claimed the King had said that 'the baker's daughter is better in her gown than Queen Mary without her crown'. These stories were probably invented by those who were anxious to discredit Philip or who feared his influence with the Queen, for they are unsubstantiated by reliable sources.
The King did indeed provide his English courtiers with cause for resentment, because he made it clear from the start that he preferred to be attended by his Spanish household. Yet there were many on the Council who welcomed him in the hope that he would advance them for their support of the Emperor or help them pay off old scores against colleagues.
The honeymoon period was not over before Mary resumed her duties as sovereign, which left her little time to spend with Philip. They usually saw each other when they dined in public or sometimes in the evenings when she would play the lute or virginals for him. Normally, she rose at dawn, did not break her fast until after mid-day, then frequently attended to state business until well after midnight. There seemed never to be enough hours in the day for all she had to do, and the strain told in headaches and palpitations. It soon became evident to the King that his wife was unable to control her headstrong councillors: 'The Queen is a good soul, but not as able as we were led to suppose, I mean as a stateswoman,' reported Gomez. Nor was Philip very impressed by the state of England's finances, and made immediate arrangements to secure loans from Spain to bolster them.
News of her sister's wedding had reached Elizabeth at Woodstock and helped to explain why her plea for an audience had not received a reply. Nevertheless, she found the waiting intolerable, and made life very difficult for Bedingfield by pestering him to allow her to write another letter. When he refused for the umpteenth time, she sneered that 'their lordships would smile in their sleeves' when they learned how scrupulous he was. Finally, on 30 July, she prevailed upon him to write to the Council on her behalf and 'make suit to your honours to be means to the Queen's Majesty [and] to beseech your lordships to consider her woeful case, that, being once licensed to write as an humble suitress unto the Queen's Highness, [she] received thereby no such comfort as she hoped to have done'. He hoped it would please the Queen 'upon very pity, considering her long imprisonment and restraint of liberty, either to charge her with matter to be answered unto and tried, or to grant her liberty to come into Her Highness's presence, which she sayeth she would not desire were it not that she knoweth herself to be clear before God'.
If Mary would not consent to these requests, then the princess begged that a deputation of councillors be allowed to visit her, so that she could protest her innocence to them and 'not think herself utterly desolate of all refuge in this world'.
The letter was duly dispatched, and the interminable waiting began again.
On 31 July, Mary and Philip left Winchester to make a leisurely progress east towards the capital. They stayed for two nights at Basingstoke and a further night at Reading before arriving on 3 August at Windsor Castle, where they were to enjoy a few days' hunting, although both were suffering from heavy colds. Soon afterwards the King, wearing a purple velvet mantle, was formally installed as Sovereign of the Order of the Garter and presided over a chapter meeting. Mary, ever anxious to please him, presented him with a jewelled dagger to mark the occasion. Renard, observing them, wrote that it was 'a great pleasure to see them together. His Highness is altogether changed from what he was when he last left the Low Countries.'
On 11 August, the royal couple moved on to Richmond Palace, preparatory to making a state entry into London. Whilst they were here news came that the French had laid siege to the Imperial town of Renty, thus prompting eighty noblemen of Philip's entourage to leave for the Low Countries to go to its defence. The Emperor, however, had expressly ordered his son to stay where he was for the present.
On 17 August, the King and Queen were informed that preparations for Philip's official welcome, which had been going on since May, were complete, and on that day they came by barge to Southwark, where Gardiner entertained them at Winchester House. After hunting in the adjoining park, they spent the night at Suffolk Place, formerly the London home of Lady Jane Grey's parents.
At two the following afternoon Mary and Philip rode across London Bridge and were welcomed by bursts of cannonfire and six lavish pageants set up at intervals along the city streets, some on sites where gibbets had recently stood. The civic authorities had spared no expense and, Spaniards or no Spaniards, the people loved a holiday and were out in vast numbers to see the procession.
There were few incidents to mar the occasion, but in one pageant Gardiner spotted a figure of Henry VIII holding a book inscribed 'Verbum Dei' (the Word of God), and hastily commanded that it be covered with a pair of gloves. Renard reported that the Londoners had been impressed with Philip and thought him a prince 'of benign and human countenance, likely to turn out a good ruler'. The King himself was delighted with his welcome, and wrote later that he had been received 'with universal signs of love and joy', prompted no doubt by his generous distribution of largesse to the poor and the free wine that ran from the city's conduits.
At the end of the day the royal couple came to Whitehall, where they expressed delight at two wedding presents that awaited them there: tapestries embroidered with gold and silver from the Emperor, and a gold and silver portable organ, encrusted with jewels, from the Queen of Poland.
Philip now set out to establish his authority as king. His first priority was to reduce his unwieldy household. 'We are all hanging about here with nothing to do,' complained the Duke of Alba. Gomez blamed Renard for the fact that his master had too many servants, but Renard had had no idea that Philip would be bringing such a vast retinue, nor had the Council consulted him when they made their arrangements. It was not long before Renard came to resent having been ousted by Philip from Mary's confidence, and when it became clear that the King did not like him, he begged to be recalled, though the Emperor would not agree to being deprived of the services of one who understood English affairs so well.
Philip seems to have detailed personal duties to his Spanish courtiers and formal ones to his English attendants. This caused resentment on both sides, sparking bitter complaints and rivalries, which were not resolved by the King's largely unfulfilled promises to devolve greater responsibility upon his English gentlemen.
Another of Philip's chief concerns was that his coronation take place as soon as possible in the interests of underlining his regal authority. However, the marriage treaty did not provide for it and the Privy Council showed little enthusiasm for the idea. As far as they were concerned, Mary was the sovereign and he the consort; in their view he had no real authority, and the Queen herself made no concerted effort to remedy this. Nevertheless, the King did everything he could to win the affection and respect of his new subjects, deferring to English customs and traditions and being lavish with gifts and rewards to those who served him well. Recognising in the fallen Paget a good statesman and a loyal supporter, he worked to restore him to favour, but never succeeded in establishing a King's faction at court, for all his popularity with some nobles there. Gomez wrote, 'His way with the lords is so winning that they themselves say they have never had a king to whom they so quickly grew attached. The King is certainly a master hand at it when he cares to try.'
The people, however, who had no chance to experience Philip's affability at first hand, were soon complaining that he rarely appeared in public and, when he did, he could not be seen for the hordes of lords who surrounded him.
Philip's influence should not, however, be underestimated. It was accepted that in marriage, as in Nature and Divine Law, a woman was subordinate to a man, and it was as natural for Mary to defer to her husband's opinion in all matters as it was natural for her councillors -and indeed all her contemporaries - to expect her to. So although the King had no formal authority conferred by the marriage treaty or by Parliament, in reality he was perceived as being the real power in government, and respected as such. In September, an ambassador from Savoy reported, 'The King hears and dispatches all state affairs, as it befits his dignity and authority that he should. He already has the same authority as his predecessors on the throne of England.'
Charles V himself had declared that the object of the marriage was for Philip to rule England in Mary's name, but he did insist that the Queen, being an anointed sovereign, retain at least the semblance of power. Yet Mary, as we have seen, was not always willing to play a subordinate role, and this, more than sexual incompatibility, was at the root of Philip's dissatisfaction with his marriage, for it was not honourable, in his opinion, for a man to take second place to his wife, and insupportable that their reversed roles should be a matter of public knowledge.
Marriage suited Mary. Within weeks she was reported to be 'fatter and of a better colour than ever before'. Her rather staid court had also become livelier, with more entertainments than hitherto. On 12 October, Mr Francis Yaxley informed Sir William Cecil, 'The King and Queen's Majesties be in health and merry. They danced together on Sunday night at the court. There was a brave masquery of cloth of gold and silver, wherein the masquers were all dressed as mariners.' Other favoured pastimes included cards and dice, and the occasional play, a novelty at that date. One particularly favoured by Mary was Respublica by Nicholas Udall, a celebration of her accession. Apart from the singing in the Chapel Royal, which had been revived on the Queen's orders, there was little music at court, although Philip did bring a consort of musicians from Spain.
The amount of food consumed by the courtiers was staggering. In 1554 an anonymous Spaniard reported,
The Queen spends over 300,00 ducats a year on her table, for all the councillors eat in the palace as well as the household officers and the wives of all these gentlemen. The Queen's ladies also eat by themselves in the palace, and their servants. There are usually eighteen kitchens at full blast and they seem veritable hells, such is the stir and bustle in them. The usual daily consumption is eighty to a hundred sheep, a dozen fat beefs, a dozen and a half calves, without mentioning poultry, game, deer, boars and great numbers of rabbits, and they drink more than would fill the Valladolid River. In the summer the ladies and gentlemen put sugar in their wine, with the result that there are great goings-on in the palace!
King Philip might have won some personal popularity with the nobility, but he and the Spaniards he brought with him were hotly resented by the majority of Mary's fiercely insular subjects. This resentment began to manifest itself in a series of ugly incidents in the court and the city; as early as August 1554 knives were being drawn at court on a daily basis to settle private scores. From the first there were bitter rivalries between Philip's English and Spanish households, and in London the Spaniards found that they were always fobbed off with inferior lodgings, overcharged in shops and taverns — by as much as twenty-five times the normal price, one claimed - and insulted or jostled in the streets. The English, for their part, declared they were being made to feel like strangers in their own land, and that Queen Mary appeared to care nothing for them. In August, the Venetian ambassador corroborated this when he reported, 'The Queen, being born of a Spanish mother, has always been inclined towards that nation, scorning to be English and boasting of her descent from Spain.'
Many Spaniards were naturally homesick, and complained of the weather, the food and the women; one even claimed, wrongly as it turned out, that 'Not a single Spanish gentleman has fallen in love with one of them, nor takes any interest in them, for they are not the sort of women for whom Spaniards feel inclined to take much trouble.'
Others grumbled that the royal palaces were cramped and uncomfortable, and that there was nothing to do at court but eat and drink - 'the only pastime the English understand'. Such an attitude could, and did, cause tremendous ill feeling. The King made efforts to silence his compatriots, especially when they got into the habit of dismissing all the English as heretics and barbarians, but the damage had already been done. Even after many nobles had left to take part in the war with France, enough 'artisan and vagabond Spaniards' remained to cause trouble. Even the wives of the remaining grandees, who had come to England in defiance of the Emperor's advice, were shunned by the ladies of the court, and not only because of the language barrier. Mary was too busy to spare time for them, and when she did see the Duchess of Alba, both were so insistent on ceding precedence to the other that, rather than occupy the higher seat, they both ended up sitting on the floor. The proud Duchess found this humiliating, and stayed away from the court thereafter.
But it was in London that the worst incidents occurred. Here, Spaniards were mugged, robbed and subjected to violent attacks, and the friars in Philip's train were too terrified to go out, for on the one occasion they had done so a jeering mob had tried to strip them of their habits and crucifixes. The Venetian Michieli states that the English were invariably the aggressors, and in his diary Henry Machyn records that several Englishmen were hanged for robbing or murdering Spaniards, while the records show that others were pardoned for similar offences. In May 1555, 500 men rioted in London against the 'strangers', and there were half a dozen deaths. In June, an angry mob attacked and desecrated a church in which Spaniards were celebrating the Feast of Corpus Christi. Seditious pamphlets and malicious rumours circulated by the French did not help matters, and sometimes caused needless panic, as when it was put about that Philip intended to bring thousands more of his compatriots to England, or was proposing to garrison the Tower with Spaniards.
Mary grieved deeply over the dissensions. 'It is a matter of great sorrow to the Queen if [her subjects] maltreat a Spaniard, greater than if she herself had to suffer,' wrote one of Philip's gentlemen. By September, when most Spaniards had been offered accommodation within Whitehall Palace for their own safety, many were praying that Mary would soon be pregnant, for 'when she has children of him, it is said, the King may go home to Spain'. However, few of them believed the Queen to be capable of bearing children.
Now that her marriage had been accomplished, Mary turned her attention to what she regarded as her life's work: reconciliation with Rome. With Philip in England she felt there was no longer any need for Cardinal Pole to be detained in Rome. In June, Pope Julius III had instructed Pole to make the English mission his priority and had warned him to be conciliatory over the sensitive matter of alienated church property. If necessary, concessions must be made.
In September, Mary herself wrote a directive to the Council, commanding that the Legate be summoned from Rome to carry out an inspection of English churches and universities. Heresy must be rooted out, and the offenders burned at the stake so that others might be saved. Philip, aware that Spanish influence would be blamed for any religious persecution, warned the Queen to tread warily and use moderation, but she saw her task as a sacred mission and would not be deflected from it. Philip also advised Mary not to allow Pole to come to England until the Legate had made it clear that he would not demand the return of church property. Mary perceived this as sound advice, and a despondent Pole was soon asking Philip why, although other ambassadors were received in England, 'the Legate of St Peter's successors is alone denied admission'. But Philip had his own position to consider. If he could be seen as the man who had brought about the reconciliation with Rome without incurring loss to his new subjects, then his standing with them would surely increase tenfold. Pole, therefore, must wait.
Once back at Whitehall, Mary at last responded to Elizabeth's pleas for an audience. Granting her one was out of the question, but she assured her sister that, although she thought her complaints 'somewhat strange', Elizabeth need have no fears that she had been forgotten as 'We be not unmindful of your cause.' And that was all.
Frustrated and miserable, and seeing no end to this interminable confinement, Elizabeth took refuge in her books, and wrote in the flyleaf of her copy of St Paul's Epistles, 'August. I walk many times into the pleasant fields of the Holy Scriptures, where I pluck up the goodh'some herbs of sentences, that, having tasted their sweetness, I may the less perceive the bitterness of this miserable life.'
Talk of a coming religious persecution reached Woodstock by September and Elizabeth wisely continued to attend mass regularly, taking care not to give the Queen cause for offence.
That September, Mary's happiness was crowned with elation and triumph when her doctors confirmed that she was pregnant. She had all the usual symptoms: her periods had ceased, her breasts and abdomen had swollen, and she suffered from nausea in the mornings. The Savoyard ambassador wrote, 'The Queen is pregnant. I have personal reason to believe it, as I have noticed her feeling sick to her stomach.' And Renard obtained 'positive assurance' of Mary's condition from the royal physicians; 'If it were not true, all the signs described would prove to be fallacious.'
This was the culmination of all Mary's hopes, and coming at a time when reconciliation with Rome was imminent, she interpreted her conception of a Catholic heir as being further evidence of God's favour. She was therefore in a triumphant mood when she announced her pregnancy to the Council. At the beginning of October a delighted Philip ordered that a ball be held in the Ladies' Hall at Whitehall to celebrate the good news, and himself led Mary out to begin the dancing. He then wrote to the Emperor to inform him of her happy condition. Apart from the prospect of an heir, her pregnancy brought the added benefits of better relations between the English and Spanish courtiers, who now found themselves united in a common desire, and increased authority for the King, for the Queen's condition would require her to delegate much of her power to him. Her duty now was to produce a healthy child.