Mary Tudor: The First Queen

by Linda Porter

  The wrangling over the Spanish marriage caused Mary great distress and brought out her fighting qualities. She rejected the notion that it would harm English interests and she had history on her side. It was a union that would have been well regarded in early Tudor England. Her grandfather’s foreign policy had hinged on the match between her mother and Prince Arthur. Charles V, himself half Spanish, had been briefly Mary’s fiancé in the 1520s, when the wider Habsburg alliance was considered not just reasonable but desirable. But times had changed.The map of Europe was complicated by religious revolt and the emperor’s unrealistic commitment to dynastic unity. Then there was the contrary nature of the English themselves. Over and over, Renard repeated that the English did not like foreigners, but they were not the only European people with this negative outlook. The truth was that the issue of the queen’s marriage raised questions for which there were no convenient answers. As the implications of this became more obvious, Mary’s concern to keep things to herself, to avoid becoming the object of an experiment that might deprive her of power, was perhaps a tacit acknowledgement that this was uncharted territory.

  If the ruler of England had been a king seeking to marry a Spanish princess, voices of disapprobation would have been far more muted, even in 1553. But Mary was a sovereign lady, a queen ruling in her own right. This fundamentally changed the way her marriage was viewed, and there is no reason to suppose that a French suitor, for example, would have been more acceptable. He would have been just as foreign, Catholic and male as any Habsburg candidate for Mary’s hand. Part of the problem was that there was no clear view of precisely what the husband of a queen regnant should do.What would be the extent of his powers? Would he be an equal, but with as yet undefined executive powers of his own? Or would the queen be turned into no more than a consort if she married, deferring all things to her spouse while she tried to produce heirs? No one knew the answers to these questions because the situation was unprecedented - at least, in England - though there was guidance to be gained from looking at the way Isabella of Castile had ruled. Her husband had no say in the internal politics of his wife’s domains and did not inherit them when she predeceased him. This example was not directly invoked, but Mary, encouraged by Katherine of Aragon long ago to think of herself as a prospective queen, seems to have followed a similar approach.

  Charles V could not, however, be entirely sure of how Mary’s thoughts were developing, and he did not want to proceed with a haste that might be counterproductive. He was dealing with a woman he did not really know, and though she spoke of him as her father, his parental role had been a long-distance one. He felt it unlikely that Mary would marry an Englishman, but it was not a foregone conclusion. Achieving the desired result required proper groundwork.The day after his ambassadors were ushered into Mary’s presence at New Hall, at the end of July, Charles V set his campaign in motion.To his son Philip, far away in Spain, he wrote a masterly letter:‘I am glad to see our cousin in the place that is hers by right and I hope that her prudence will enable her to restore religious matters.’ To facilitate matters and help reinforce Mary’s success, he was considering, he said, marrying her himself. ‘Her discretion and tact may render it possible’, he mused,‘to propose once more a match which was talked of many years ago…I am sure that if the English made up their minds to accept a foreigner they would more readily accept me than any other, for they have always shown a liking for me.’4

  But this was merely the emperor’s cunning. He had no intention of marrying Mary himself.Tired and ill as he was, a new marriage, even to a woman of mature years, was the last thing he wanted. Apparently thinking aloud, he went on to wonder whether Philip might not be a better choice, though he was ‘to consider it privately and keep the matter a close secret’.Then he waited for the prince’s response to this carefully phrased instruction.

  With his customary languor, for he was never a man to rush things, the emperor’s son did not reply until the end of August. When he did write, his lack of enthusiasm was very apparent:I very well see the advantages which might accrue from the successful conclusion of this affair … All I have to say about the English affair is that I am rejoiced to hear that my aunt [he was evidently somewhat hazy about his actual relationship to Mary] has come to the throne … as well as out of natural feeling as because of the advantages mentioned by your majesty where France and the Low Countries are concerned. It is certain that if she suggested a match between herself and your majesty, and your majesty were disposed, it would be the very best thing possible.

  But he already, very reluctantly, accepted his father’s real purpose: ‘As your majesty feels as you say about the match for me, you know that I am so obedient a son that I have no will other than yours, especially in a matter of such high import.’5

  In fact, Philip was anticipating marrying again. But his thoughts were not of Mary. Negotiations, admittedly at an early stage, were under way for a possible match with the Infanta Maria of Portugal. He had already been married, very briefly and very young, to another Portuguese cousin, who died shortly after giving birth to his son, Don Carlos.There were rumours at the time that Philip and his teenage bride were not close and that he did not regret her early death. As he was only 18 at the time, and they were married less than two years, they were scarcely given time to form much of a relationship. Eight years on, the widower prince was the most eligible prize in Europe.

  At 26, Philip was an elegant, fashionable man who clearly enjoyed his freedom but had a well-developed sense of duty. In appearance he resembled his Portuguese mother more than his Habsburg father, with his unmistakable Iberian bearing. Unfortunately, the overall effect was spoiled by the large jaw and thick lips of his Burgundian ancestors, but if he was not exactly handsome, he certainly had presence and very considerable charm and social skills. He also had an eye for the ladies, a love of music and court revels, tournaments and Titian paintings. This highly educated Renaissance prince was not the grim Spanish Catholic bogeyman and foe of fearless Elizabethan England that is so often represented. The burden of ruling creased and changed him in later life, but the Philip of the 1550s was another man.

  But he was already, in language and outlook, very much a product of Spain, the country in which he had been educated and trained to rule. It was claimed that he understood French, Latin and Italian, but it is not certain that he spoke any language except Spanish proficiently. England and its middle-aged queen held no attractions for him, though he was well aware of the importance of the Low Countries, spent time in Brussels and enjoyed the court there.Yet he concurred with his father’s view that the English marriage would be highly advantageous. Already experienced in government (he ruled Spain on his father’s behalf), he could see it clearly enough for himself. Above all else, he was a Habsburg and a dutiful son. So he waited with patience to see how matters would develop, and continued his affair with one of the ladies of the Valladolid court, Isabel Osorio, his mistress of several years. She never married and he made careful provision for her financial welfare.

  Charles V could command his son, but he needed to rely on his representatives in England to handle the detail and to proceed with real diplomatic skill. He knew there would be other names proposed and sensed early on that the idea of Mary’s marrying a foreigner would have to be carefully handled. Edward Courtenay was likely to attract vocal support among Mary’s advisers, both in the royal household and the privy council.

  At first, it seemed that Courtenay, ‘the last sprig of the White Rose’, was the firm favourite to succeed. Stephen Gardiner supported him, and so did Robert Rochester, Edward Waldegrave and Francis Englefield. As they had all been prisoners together in the Tower they had a shared experience and a strong bond. None of them thought Courtenay’s age or long period of confinement disqualified him as a serious contender. Though their sponsorship of him probably had an element of self-interest, and Rochester, in particular, had demonstrated his desire to moderate imperial influence on Mary, they seem to have
felt genuine affection for someone whose life had been blighted by the accident of his birth. But being high born, even without the other, more serious, effects of prolonged loss of liberty and the threat of execution, was no guarantee of suitability for an unprecedented role. Gardiner and the East Anglians could not admit this, or perhaps thought that time and training would overcome any flaws in their protégé. And there were other reasons to suppose that Mary might be persuaded to accept Courtenay. His mother, the marchioness of Exeter, was daily in the queen’s company and she was superbly placed to use her influence in his favour. Unhappily, family ties and maternal love for her only surviving son also blinded Gertrude Courtenay, who could not admit that he was permanently damaged by almost 15 years in the Tower. Persuading the queen to accept him became her mission.

  He was a charming and good-looking young man of 27 when Mary released him from his long incarceration on 3 August. His education had continued during his imprisonment and his literary and musical accomplishments were admirable, but he lacked any experience of real life. It had been his misfortune to suffer for who he was, but the fact that both he and Mary were great-grandchildren of Edward IV was much more dangerous to him than it was advantageous. The earl found himself suddenly the centre of attention, spoken of openly as the future king of England, courted by everyone who opposed a Habsburg marriage for the queen.The sudden freedom and celebrity deprived him of any care for his reputation, as he threw himself into a dissipated lifestyle of drink, ‘loose women’ and, much more sinister in the eyes of the imperialists, socialising with the French and Venetian diplomats.The queen gave him lands, but she could not endow him with common sense. She did not seek out his company because she never truly wanted to get to know him. Edward Courtenay took a surprisingly long time to realise that he was being used by others and that his future was no more secure now than it had ever been. Towards the end of the year, when Mary made it very clear that she was not going to be browbeaten into accepting him as a husband, his thoughts began to turn to Elizabeth as an alternative. This ill-advised development did neither of them any good.

  Mary never seriously considered Courtenay, but she had not yet been presented with a formal proposal by Charles V, so her reticence to discuss marriage with her council is perfectly understandable. At the beginning of September she told Renard that the topic had not even been raised, ‘either in general terms or otherwise’. But this polite avoidance of so crucial a question did not last. Mary, with no name yet forthcoming from Brussels, later revealed that she had been obliged to cut short any speculation, saying ‘she had always rebuffed those who had brought up the subject in such fashion that they had never mentioned it again’.6 It was a phrase worthy of her father.

  This evasion bothered the council considerably.They were surprised by the silence from the emperor, fully expecting Mary to be in consultation with him. Behind the scenes, they began to take sides, with the majority favouring an English husband. The Spaniards had acquired an ill reputation for their government of the Low Countries and particularly for the way they dealt with religious dissent there. Commercial links furnished plenty of information about what was going on across the North Sea.This flow of information provided the French, as well as the literate and well-organised opponents of Catholicism, with emotive ammunition. There were also fears among those in government and at court that they would lose their positions and influence to a wave of Spanish incomers. Nor were these anxieties entirely selfish. Some, including Rochester and the other Catholic gentlemen of Mary’s household, were concerned that a Spanish husband would endanger the restoration of their religion if he became a focus for widespread discontent. An English Catholic, like Courtenay, presented no such drawback. If Mary was to succeed in undoing the pernicious developments of her brother’s reign she must not be compromised by playing into her opponents’ hands.

  And no one could ignore the inevitable reaction of the French. Every attempt must be made to avoid a war for which England had little stomach and fewer resources. Only four months previously, France had been England’s main ally in Europe. Now their ambassador feared the worse. Noailles felt he had been treated with courtesy by the council, but, like Renard, he did not really trust any of them and he had not been persuaded by Mary’s assurances about her wish to maintain peaceful relations. Courtenay was obviously the preferred choice for France, and Noailles had the financial means to buy him support, if necessary. He also had, in Sir Edward Leigh, a member of Mary’s household, an informer who was a valuable source of information on the queen’s sentiments. It was unfortunate for Noailles that domestic politics in France left him without clear instructions as to what he should do. Montmorency was ill for much of the autumn and Henry II came increasingly under the influence of the Guise brothers, the uncles of Mary Queen of Scots.They had their own family’s agenda to pursue.

  The French king himself most certainly wished to stop the queen of England’s marriage with the son of Charles V. When Mary eventually wrote to him, just before the end of the year, with the assurance that her marriage did not alter her desire for friendly relations with France, Henry II was withering in his response. He told Wooton, the English ambassador, ‘that he clearly saw that she was allying herself with the greatest enemy he had in the world, and he knew marital authority to be very strong with ladies. He had not thought she would choose a match so odious to him.’7 His hatred of the emperor went much deeper than the prolonged struggle for European dominance between the two countries. Henry never forgot the years he spent as a child in imperial custody, when he and his brother were hostages for their father after the defeat at Pavia. But Mary was a fellow-monarch and anointed queen and he did not want his ambassador directly identified with treasonable activities.

  Whatever the queen’s personal inclinations, her marriage was becoming the first major test of her authority, and one that threatened to isolate her from council and household. Parliament, too, was disenchanted by the idea of the queen marrying a foreigner, and expected to have its say on the matter. It is unlikely that Mary would have been daunted or given way, even to this weighty combination of male influence. She knew her own mind, and the ladies of her chamber believed she must be allowed to get what she wanted. From Brussels, Arras asked Renard whether he had heard rumours that Susan Clarencius had spoken to a Spanish grandee passing through London in mid-September. His information was not substantiated, but, if true, it indicates that the queen felt comfortable using her personal servants to sound others out about the emperor’s intentions.8 Yet the situation remained one of rumour and counter-rumour, talk without substance and general indecision, until Mary was crowned. Then, two things happened that greatly strengthened both Mary and the frenetic imperial ambassador. Lord Paget stepped out of the shadows to emerge as the major English champion of a Habsburg alliance and Charles V officially proposed Philip as Mary’s husband.

  Paget brought with him all his years of diplomatic experience and genuine commitment to a course that he believed was right for England. This was his supreme moment.The queen’s marriage restored him to the centre of political activity. He seized the opportunity thankfully, despite the burden of work involved and recurring problems with his health. His portrait emphasises his power and wealth, but the face betrays some insecurity. He is resplendent in so many furs that he looks more like a bear than a man, an impression accentuated by his long double-pointed beard. Here was a man who favoured moderation, who did not act in heat or haste. These may have been admirable qualities, but they were not the norm in mid-Tudor England.

  The contribution Paget made at this juncture was important for other reasons. His influence enabled him to act as an antidote to the constant drip of venom against Elizabeth. Paget’s pragmatic view of the succession irritated the imperial ambassador and his master. It was also unwelcome to Mary’s ears. But the minister realised the disadvantages of cutting Elizabeth out before Mary produced heirs. It was vital to avoid another succession crisis.

  Renard,
always wanting to depict himself as firmly in the lead, was still greatly relieved to be able to work with someone of Paget’s ability, who knew how matters could be taken forward effectively.The ambassador had made it clear to the bishop of Arras exactly what he thought of Mary as a ruler, belittling her judgement and intimating that she would be lucky to survive many months. She was, he wrote,‘easily influenced, inexpert in worldly matters and a novice all round … To tell you between ourselves what I think of her, I believe that if God does not preserve her she will be deceived and lost, either by the machinations of the French, the conspiracies of the English, by poison or otherwise.’9 But this patronising assessment he concealed from the queen herself. It has always been thought that she was entirely in thrall to his undoubted energy, seeing him as the visible link with her cousin and bowing to his every whim. But Mary was more hard-headed than he realised. She knew how to press him for information and she told him what she wanted him to hear. And now she could talk things through with her minister before she gave audience to Renard.The ambassador was aware of this but assumed that she was merely Paget’s mouthpiece, a woman who could not think for herself in matters of state. It reassured him that the marriage discussions could now proceed on a man-to-man basis. Paget, who had sat in council meetings with the queen, knew differently. Mary possessed a very strong mind of her own. She would want things done thoroughly and through the proper channels.There was never any question of her sacrificing her power or handing over her realm to become a Habsburg satellite. Mary, who did not much care for Paget as a person, appreciated his skill. She was willing to hand over the detail of negotiation to him now that she had a formal offer to consider and his expertise at her disposal.

  Paget decided to take a decisive role almost as soon as the decorations from the coronation were removed from London’s streets.There was too much to be risked by waiting longer. There were great burdens resting on the queen, but the country was not in a good condition, he divulged to Renard.The succession was a tricky area that could not be left up in the air because of lack of a true heir in the direct line, and ‘the stain of bastardy on the Lady Elizabeth’ could not be overlooked.There was no alternative for Mary but to marry. ‘So as to restore the succession and continue the line, they [the council] considered it necessary for the good of the kingdom that the queen should enter into an alliance and marry, and the sooner the better because of the state of her affairs and her years.’10 What was urgently needed was for the emperor to write to Mary in the same vein, and a week later the emperor followed Paget’s advice, using almost identical wording. ‘The sooner you make up your mind the better,’ he told her, ‘for many reasons.’ The same day he thanked the Englishman in a separate letter, for his devotion to Mary, to England and to Charles himself. He was careful to add a sweetener at the end, assuring Paget ‘we will show recognition of your goodwill and devotion as occasion shall offer’.11This does not mean that Paget acted only out of the desire for reward; like most politicians of the period, he probably expected no more. His main aim was to move things forward for the benefit of England. If he succeeded, then, of course, it would enhance his political stature. First and last, he was a servant of the Crown.