Mary Tudor: The First Queen

by Linda Porter

  Paget had won, but at great personal cost. Mary never forgave him. He wrote afterwards that ‘Queen Mary hated me’. He attended the privy council less frequently and, as his health deteriorated, spent less time at court. His partial restoration to royal favour he owed to the man Mary awaited as her husband. None of the queen’s other advisers seemed to Philip to have the faintest understanding of Europe.

  Despite these significant losses, the parliament of April 1554 passed other notable pieces of legislation, including 14 statutes dealing with economic problems which benefited English commerce and industry. But the most interesting piece of legislation concerned Mary herself. This was the act concerning the regal power, defined in the case of this first queen regnant of England as being identical to her male predecessors:… the regal power of this realm is in the queen’s majesty as fully and absolutely as ever it was in any of her most noble progenitors, kings of this realm … be it declared and enacted by the authority of this present parliament that the law of this realm is and ever hath been … that the kingly or regal office of the realm … being invested in either male or female, are and ought to be as fully, wholly absolutely and entirely deemed, judged, accepted, invested and taken in the one as the other. 13

  Wyatt’s rebellion had not been a direct challenge to Mary’s position as queen but its underlying uncertainties about her role and the effect of her marriage evidently did have an impact. Mary and her advisers wanted statute clarification of the queen’s position before her husband arrived.There is no evidence that Philip knew anything about this move.

  The queen might be displeased with the truculence of her parliament and some of her ministers, but her wedding day was edging closer, and as monarch and future wife, she was well prepared for it. A substantial English household of 350 people was put in place to await Philip’s arrival, headed by the earl of Arundel, who would act as lord steward for both Mary and her husband. Several of the men who gave Mary early support in July 1553 were rewarded with posts in the household, including John Huddleston, who had sheltered her as she journeyed into East Anglia. The plum roles of gentlemen of the privy chamber were given to the sons of seven leading peers and interpreters were appointed in recognition of language problems that would inevitably arise.The entire household, perhaps inspired by the arrival of the marquis de las Navas, was in place by mid-June, awaiting Philip’s arrival at Southampton. Such optimism was understandable, but the move was a premature and costly one. Worse still, there had been a complete failure of communication between London and Valladolid about the royal household, and the English establishment was unaware that Philip was bringing a duplicate Spanish organisation with him. June turned into July and, to the despair of Renard, there was still no sign of the prince himself.

  He was, though, on the move. It had taken several months to mobilise the very large fleet and military force he wanted to accompany him: 6,000 sailors and soldiers as a military escort, some intended to reinforce the garrisons in the Low Countries but most required as a safeguard against the threat of interception by the French, as well as a personal retinue of between 3,000 and 5,000. Philip apparently did not think that support of this order was excessive, or that it might send the wrong signals to a country where there had recently been an uprising based on the fear that the Spanish were more interested in invasion rather than alliance. 14 Naturally, the sheer amount of time it took to assemble all the people, including many of the leading nobility of Castile who accompanied him, slowed down his departure. A fleet also had to be gathered and readied. Seventy ships were prepared to carry the prince, his nobles, his religious advisers, his horses and his men. It was a grand gesture but not a speedy operation.

  Before he could think about a precise date for his embarkation, Philip needed to settle the government of Spain, the country he was leaving behind. It was entrusted to his 19—year—old sister, Juana, for whom 1554 was an eventful year. Married to a Portuguese prince, she had been widowed on the second day of January, just three weeks after giving birth to a son. Like all of CharlesV’s family, this good-looking but very serious young woman did not flinch from her duty.The regency of Spain was to be her responsibility and her brother, who was fond of her, never doubted her ability and commitment to the role. Having spent a few weeks with Juana and the regency council appointed to assist her inValladolid, Philip left the capital on 16 May. He travelled north to Santiago de Compostela, where he met the English ambassadors specially appointed by Mary to escort him to England, who were led by the earl of Bedford. Here the prince finally signed the marriage treaty, attending high mass with the English nobles in the cathedral of St James in this ancient town of pilgrimage, on 24 June. Then he moved on to Coruña, where, nearly three weeks later, confident that everything was in place and aware that he must follow his sister’s example of Habsburg duty, he at last went on board the Espiritu Santo and set sail for England. Closely shadowed by 30 heavily armed vessels, ready to see off any threat from French men-of-war, the prince’s flagship slipped out of port on the afternoon tide. It was 13 July, the height of summer, and the Spanish lords and ladies who accompanied Philip had persuaded themselves that they were going to a land of chivalry and Arthurian romance, where the meadows would be filled with flowers and birdsong. There, they expected to be well rewarded for their service to Philip. It would be a benign conquest, but they never doubted their superiority over the English.

  Alas, they were cruelly deceived. The voyage itself was dreadful. The Bay of Biscay fully lived up to its reputation for stormy seas and Philip, like everyone else, was ill for most of the crossing. Ruy Gomez, Philip’s confidant and chamberlain, suffered from such terrible sea-sickness that he thought he would die. When the ships finally dropped anchor in Southampton Water on 20 July, the rain was falling in torrents. It hardly stopped in three days. But Mary, already in Winchester, cared nothing for the weather, or the pretensions of Philip’s entourage. At last, her husband was here.

  Protocol, rather more than the desire to recover from the rigours of the voyage, meant that Philip could not rush to Mary’s side; he was no Philip of Bavaria, anxious to claim his prize at the earliest opportunity. The prince made a gradual acclimatisation to the wet English summer, while all the while receiving honours and exchanging gifts with his bride. Mary had granted him the Order of the Garter, and this was presented to him on board ship by the earl of Arundel, before he even came ashore. He accepted it graciously and sent off Egmont ‘to inform the queen of his arrival, visit her, tell her of his health and assure her of his affection’. The next day Gardiner came with the gift of a large diamond from Mary. Philip reciprocated with a diamond of his own, though it was noted that it was ‘considerably smaller’. This unfortunate discrepancy might be viewed as a metaphor for the different degree of feeling that the two parties brought to their marriage.

  There were further presents from Mary. She sent ‘a very richly wrought poignard, studded with gems, and two robes, one of them as rich and beautiful as could be imagined’.15 Equally fine was the white horse, trapped with crimson velvet and embroidered with gold, that Philip found waiting for him when he came ashore. He mounted it and rode off to hear mass and give thanks for his landing.Then he returned to the lodgings prepared for him, to learn more about when he would first meet the queen and to be briefed about arrangements for the wedding ceremony.

  The first impressions he made on the English were all favourable.The prince went out of his way to be affable, to learn about the customs of these strange people, such as removing his hat during audiences with leading politicians and quaffing beer with his meals. He made sure that he was visible to the people, since he had been told that it would be necessary to court public favour. There can be no doubt that he was making an effort, or that he was playing a part, but he played it well. On 23 July, he set off for Winchester and his first meeting with Mary, in the unrelenting rain. By the time he got there his ‘rich coat embroidered with gold, his doublet hosen and hat suite-like’ were drenche
d, and the fair white feather in his cap had lost its jauntiness. 16 Despite this, Philip went straight to the cathedral, ‘a fine building where there was such a crowd that they were all in danger of stifling’, to hear the Te Deum sung. Perhaps he also wanted the opportunity to familiarise himself with the cathedral’s interior before his marriage. Certainly, he would have found the fact that so many people wanted to see their new king gratifying, aware as he must have been that the marriage was taking place in Winchester rather than London because the mood of the citizens in the capital was deemed too unreliable for comfort.

  When the service was concluded, ‘he was brought with torch-light to the dean’s house, the lords going before him and the queen’s guard in their rich coats standing all the way’. The house ‘was very gorgeously prepared for him’, but he was probably more concerned to get out of his wet clothes and take some sustenance.The prince ate a quiet supper with his closest Spanish confidants until, at about ten in the evening, he made the short journey across the gardens to the bishop’s palace, for his first meeting with Mary Tudor.

  As he came up the private stairs, she was waiting at the top to greet him, supported by her leading councillors and ladies-in-waiting. As was the English custom, she kissed her own hand first and then took his. Then Philip kissed her on the mouth, something he would not have done in Spain but which was expected here, and ‘hand in hand they sat down and remained for a time in present conversation’. Mary probably spoke in French, Philip in Spanish. No one present eavesdropped on what they had to say, but though Mary evidently still understood Spanish, she must not have heard it spoken for many years. At times they may both have conversed in Latin, the one common language they had.

  This exchange of pleasantries provided both of them with the opportunity to take stock of each other. Mary saw a slim, fair-haired man, not much taller than she was. He was considered to have a soldier’s bearing and good legs, yet to modern eyes they seem spindly. But there is no point in judging by the standards of a different age. He looked suitably regal to his bride, and it was her response which mattered. He was only the second of her Habsburg relatives she had ever met, and she was disposed to love him, not find fault. Although the age difference was not so extreme, it was still marked. Philip was a different generation, the great-grandson of Isabella of Castile, whereas she was the granddaughter. Searching his face for any immediate sign of misgiving or doubt, she would have found nothing to unsettle her. He was charming and easy-mannered. Perhaps the age difference was less important than she had feared. Their common heritage was, to her, a great advantage. It would not be hard to be his wife.

  But Philip’s politeness, his determination to do the right thing, belied his true feelings. There she was before him, in her black velvet dress, flamboyant with heavy jewels but not elegant: deep-voiced, white-faced and thin. Philip was far too discreet to commit to writing any views on Mary’s appearance, but others in his entourage were not.They dismissed her as ‘a perfect saint who dresses badly’, and thought that if she dressed in a more restrained fashion, she might look younger. The queen appeared to Philip’s courtiers as mutton dressed as lamb.They found her love of rich fabrics, her devotion to the French style of dress, unflattering. Spanish ladies, they were sure, looked better.17 To them she seemed flabby and sagging, as if the firmness of her youth was gone, as, indeed, it was. He skin did not fit her any more. She still had a fine, clear complexion but it was very pale, probably as the result of anaemia caused by too many bleedings.The difficulties of her life, the stress and ill health, were only too visible in her face. She looked older even than Philip had expected. They might have family ties, interests in common, dynastic ambitions they hoped to realise through each other, but he knew he could not love her.

  Ruy Gomez made plain that what Philip felt was more than absence of attraction; it was closer to distaste. He told a colleague in Brussels four days after the wedding: ‘to speak frankly with you, it will take a great God to drink this cup [but] … the king realises that the marriage was concluded for no fleshly consideration, but in order to remedy the disorders of this kingdom and to preserve the Low Countries’.18 The physical side of marriage would be a trial, but perhaps not one to be endured for very long. In the small talk of that July night, Philip did not tell Mary that his father, concerned about the deteriorating situation in the Netherlands, had given him instructions to stay in England for no more than five or six days after the wedding. He knew that it would be unwise to suggest that the interminable delay of his arrival would be followed by an immediate departure. But the Low Countries did offer the possibility of escape and that knowledge alone may have soothed him.

  When he took his leave, he greatly endeared himself to the company by demonstrating that he was already learning English. During their exchanges, Mary had taught him to say ‘Goodnight, my lords all’, and this he managed to repeat. It was a clever move, but there is no indication that he ever mastered much more of the language. Yet he had already completely won Mary’s heart.

  The pleasant conversation of their first meeting increased the queen’s confidence about her marriage. If Philip was not exactly a fairy-tale prince, he still seemed romantic to Mary. He was her equal in birth, an experienced ruler, and it was apparent that he knew how to behave. But the meeting evidently took something of a toll on Philip. ‘On Tuesday, 24 July, his highness rose very late,’ a Spanish commentator reported. When he did get up, he realised that he must have made a good first impression.There was still no end to Mary’s generosity. ‘The queen sent to him her tailor with two suits, one of rich brocade adorned with gold thread, pearls and diamond buttons, the other of crimson brocade.’ Since the Spaniards did not share Mary’s tastes in women’s clothes, it is hard to know whether they found her choice of men’s apparel more acceptable. In any event, he did not don one of the new outfits, preferring instead ‘a coat of purple brocade with silver fringes and a friese cloak with similar trimmings, white breeches and doublet’.19 Thus attired, he heard mass, took his midday meal and then went off to attend his first public engagement with Mary. She met him accompanied by her ladies, who, it was noted, were ‘not beautiful but very numerous’. They were all dressed in purple velvet, a fortunate match with Philip’s brocade.

  Philip and Mary kissed and ‘then stood talking for a long time. His highness talked with the ladies according to his custom [he was known for his gallantry in this respect], while we all kissed the queen’s hands in Spanish fashion.’ Then they parted for a while, making their religious devotions separately. Philip heard vespers in Winchester Cathedral while Mary stayed in her private chapel. He did not dine with her that night, but met her again in the late evening.This time, he brought good news with him. Charles V had conferred on him the kingdom of Naples. Tomorrow he would marry Mary not as a mere prince, but as a fellow-monarch. Mary was delighted by the appropriateness of this gesture by the emperor. All was now ready for the great ceremony the next day.

  The wedding of Mary and Philip took place on 25 July, the feast day of St James, the patron saint of Spain. This compliment to the groom was not matched by an improvement in the weather. Mary was married in the rain. But in all other respects the wedding was one of the most magnificent in English history. Its setting, in the beautiful cathedral begun in 1079, was partly dictated by security fears and the danger of summer epidemics in central London. Winchester was also chosen because it was the bishopric of Stephen Gardiner, who performed the ceremony in the continued absence of a Catholic archbishop of Canterbury. His status as chancellor also reinforced the double nature of the act, a spiritual union of two people and a secular union of two earthly powers. This was a ceremony full of symbolism and spectacle, to match that of Mary’s coronation. It had been carefully prepared, and no doubt both Mary and Philip studied the order of proceedings, making sure they knew the various elements, where they would walk and stand, how they must respond. This was an important occasion of state, not the private, even secretive plighting of troths
that characterised all of Henry VIII’s marriages.

  There are several sources of information about the wedding and the celebrations following it, from Spanish, English and Italian sources, as well as from the Scot, John Elder. Elder was appointed, about this time, as tutor to the countess of Lennox’s son, Lord Darnley. He may have been present because of this connection. Since Elder was, untypically for the time, a supporter of union between England and Scotland, he viewed the alliance between an English queen and a Habsburg prince with especial interest.

  Philip arrived first at the cathedral, at ten in the morning, going ‘forth with a brave following of grandees and gentlemen of his court, so magnificently attired that neither his majesty’s nor his highness’s court ever saw the like, such was the display of rich garments and chains, each one finer than the last’.20 He himself was superbly dressed:‘His breeches and doublet were white, the collar of the doublet exceeding rich, and over all a mantle of rich cloth of gold, a present from the queen … this robe was ornamented with pearls and precious stones; and wearing the collar of the Garter.’21The mantle was ‘adorned with crimson velvet and thistles of curled gold, lined in crimson satin, with twelve buttons made of four pearls on each sleeve’. Philip referred to his wedding outfit in the inventory of his jewels and clothing that was drawn up after Mary’s death.22 He did not comment, at that or any other time, that his apparel was specially designed to match Mary’s and that its style was French rather than Spanish, because the French style was what was worn in England at the time. This was, naturally, a point of some sensitivity for Philip’s Spanish entourage.23

  In the half-hour before the queen arrived, he had time to take in the sumptuous decorations, to reflect, perhaps, that his bride might be a worse disappointment than he had feared, but that the English had not stinted in their preparations for his nuptials. The cathedral itself ‘was richly hanged with arras and cloth of gold, and in the midst of the church, from the west door unto the rood, was a scaffold erected of timber, at the end whereof was raised a mount, covered all with red say, and underneath the roode-loft were erected two traverses, one for the queen on the right hand, and the other for the prince on the left, which places served very well for the purpose’.They must also have served to remind Philip, as he contemplated the scene, that his bride’s place on his right emphasised the honour she was bestowing in marrying him.