by Linda Porter
As well as this potentially vast patrimony, which would greatly have increased the power of any English monarch, whether male or female, there were stringent safeguards for the country’s ruling class:‘the prince shall swear he will not promote to any office in England any foreigner … He shall make no innovation in the laws and customs of England.’ The queen could not be removed from the country unless she desired it and any children of the marriage must remain in England unless the nobility permitted their departure overseas. Further restrictions forbade Philip from removing jewels, ships and arms and required that ‘England shall not be entangled with the war between the emperor and the French king. Philip, as much as he can, shall see peace observed between France and England, and give no cause of breach, but may assist his father in defence of his lands and revenge of his injuries.’23
Philip, who played no part in the marriage negotiations, was understandably furious when he learned, in January 1554, of the restrictions placed on him. He was reduced to the role of second-class companion to a woman 11 years his senior, with whom he was supposed to beget heirs.This was the price his father was willing to make him pay for the union of England with the Low Countries. On paper, it was the most advantageous marriage treaty that England had ever seen. But it still remained for the final details to be hammered out with a distinguished group of special ambassadors sent by Charles V to close the deal.
The imperial party of five commissioners, headed by one of the emperor’s most trusted advisers, the count of Egmont, landed at Tower Wharf on 2 January, under leaden, freezing skies. The party (none of whom was Spanish, in deference to continuing English sensibilities) was met by a deputation of English lords led, improbably, by Edward Courtenay. At least at this point he managed to conceal his awareness of what Wyatt and the others were planning, but he surely felt uncomfortable. Still, Egmont’s reception was more courteous than that given to his servants the next day.The retinue was pelted with snowballs by disgruntled London urchins.
But this hostile reception by the populace was easily dismissed as a typical show of how unwelcoming the English normally were to foreigners. For Mary, the arrival of Egmont was thrilling; tangible proof that the marriage was really going to go ahead. The anguished conversations with Susan Clarencius and her other ladies about the embarrassing intimacies of marriage, about whether an old maid like herself could ever hope to please a suave, worldly young prince, were now firmly in the past. Less than two weeks should suffice for the necessary refinements to be agreed between the English and the imperial negotiators.
Mary did not yet know that some of her advisers were as uneasy as she was about the mood of the country. Talk of rebellion had already reached the council.The catalyst for their suspicions was the precipitate disappearance from London between Christmas and New Year of Sir Peter Carew, who had gone back down to Devon to assess his strength there and wait out the winter till Palm Sunday. At this stage nothing was said to the queen, but it was felt prudent to summon Carew to attend the council personally so he could be interrogated on his motives. So, on the same day that Egmont’s party came to London, Carew was ordered back to the capital to explain himself. His predictable failure to obey merely reinforced suspicions, reported by Renard to the emperor a few days later, that he was part of a heretical plot ‘to induce Courtenay or the Lady Elizabeth to act as their leader’. Renard would have loved to pounce on Elizabeth at this early stage, but there was absolutely no evidence to connect her with Carew beyond these unsubstantiated rumours.
The council’s concern was well founded but the problem for the conspirators was that the cat was now well and truly out of the bag. During the second week of January the queen was made aware of the potential for serious opposition, something that could not have come as a surprise given the source of her depression before Christmas. But her resolve was still there, and she began to work with the council, as Noailles reported on 12 January, ‘to break up the plot of those who are conspiring against the marriage’.24 Mary had, at this stage, no idea of the extent of the plot or how much popular support her opponents could really count on if it came to an actual fight. The government has been criticised for its inadequate response to the threat but, in mid-January, it was hard to quantify just what that threat was. In fact, queen and council embarked on a staged propaganda campaign two days later when they issued a proclamation giving the text of the marriage treaty. There was nothing wrong with this - indeed, as a tactic, it seems surprisingly modern in approach - and it was perhaps the best that could have been done in the absence of firm information on the plotters’ plans and even their identities. But for the conspirators themselves, even the vague revelations of early January meant that, unless they were willing to hold off and risk almost certain discovery, they would have to take up arms much sooner than expected. And a successful campaign in the foul winter weather of 1554, with snow giving way to torrential rain and flooding, looked like a very dubious prospect.
Meanwhile, Mary was putting her own public relations plan into action. The finishing touches on the marriage treaty now complete, Gardiner, who had consistently opposed the Spanish alliance, was given the unenviable task of selling it to the court and council in the Presence Chamber at Westminster Palace. It was apparently a compelling performance: ‘an oration very eloquently [delivered], wherein he declared that the queen’s majesty, partly for the wealth and enriching of the realm, and partly for friendship and other weighty considerations, hath, after much suite on his [the prince of Spain’s] behalf made, determined, by the consent of her council and nobility, to match herself with him in most godly and lawful matrimony’.
Warming to his task, Gardiner pointed out the advantages to England - a generous income of 30,000 ducats a year, all of the Low Countries and Flanders, any son of the marriage to be heir as well to the kingdom of Spain - and he expressed the view that ‘we were much bounden to thank God that so noble, worthy and famous a prince would vouchsafe so to humble himself, as in this marriage to take upon him rather as a subject than otherwise; and that the queen should rule all things as she doth now’. Furthermore, there would be no Spaniards on the council, in positions of military command or in the queen’s household. In conclusion, Gardiner asked that Philip be received, for Mary’s sake,‘with reverence, joy and honour’.25 This was a heartfelt plea, with an underlying hint of acknowledgement of the emotional cost to Mary in marrying at all.
Unfortunately for Mary, her Lord Chancellor’s exhortations fell on the ears of a hardened group of men, many of whom shared the queen’s religion but not her vision. In theory, the package as described by Gardiner sounded good, but no one believed that Philip and his Spanish advisers would keep out of English politics. The fear was that, once married to Mary, he would do whatever he liked. As Lord Windsor remarked at the end of Gardiner’s speech: ‘You tell us many fine words on the part of the queen and many large promises on the part of the emperor and his son; but if it happens that they choose not to carry out what they promise, what pledges and assurances will you have of them to compel them to hold by their agreement?’At this, murmurs of assent arose. Even if Philip kept a low profile in England’s domestic policy, where did this leave the country’s foreign relations? The handing over to England of one of the Flemish towns (perhaps Gravelines) as a token of imperial commitment might, had it happened, have changed a few minds. But Gardiner’s listeners did not all share Mary’s view of an England made greater by being part of Europe. Some saw only diminishing independence and the speedy reduction of England’s role to one of junior partner, a useful source of men and money to the Spaniard, but nothing more. Paget’s fine-sounding clauses and Mary’s personal concerns left them unmoved.
The conclusion of the treaty and its sour reception in Westminster gave the rebels cause for hope, but also meant that they needed to move fast. On 18 January Renard, with his normal blend of self-importance and drama, took it upon himself to inform the queen authoritatively about the conspiracy that was afoot. Up t
ill now, he told the emperor, he had not wanted to alarm her, afraid that Mary might go to pieces if she thought there was a serious plot against her.The emperor upbraided him for his misguided (and wholly unjustified) attempt to spare the queen’s feelings. In any case, Mary already knew that the conclusion of the treaty might inspire some men to treason. Carew’s refusal to come to London was a very big clue, though on 19 January he and his uncle, the romantically named Sir Gawain, were still professing their loyalty:‘we are faithful to the queen’, they wrote to the sheriff of Devon, ‘and intend to follow her religion’.They had no idea why there were moves to apprehend them, they claimed, but unless proper cause was shown ‘you will drive us to stand to the best of our powers for our liberty’. On 21 January the outline of the plot was finally discovered when Gardiner sent for Courtenay and got him to reveal everything that he knew.
The Lord Chancellor seems to have suspected for some time that Courtenay might be implicated but he had delayed confronting the young man, whose candidature for Mary’s hand he had so fervently supported. Nobody likes to admit that they have picked a rotten apple. Renard’s tête-à-tête with Mary left Gardiner little choice but to hold an uncomfortable interview with Courtenay. If there was going to be bad news, as he strongly suspected, he wanted to make sure the queen heard it directly from him and not from his political rival, Paget, or the ubiquitous imperial ambassador. It was not difficult to get the tearful and confused Courtenay to confess. Probably he told Gardiner more than the bishop was willing to reveal initially, while he was desperate to find some way to salvage his reputation. Thus more time was lost and the danger to the queen grew. She, however, decided to seize as much of the initiative as she could by a pre-emptive strike intended to galvanise support in the counties. On 22 January she wrote informing her subjects that the treaty was concluded,‘with covenants for the preservation of the laws and surety of our realm, as appears by the articles herewith sent’. But she acknowledged that all was not well: ‘Certain ill-disposed persons, meaning under pretence of misliking this marriage to rebel against the Catholic religion and divine service restored in this realm, and to take from us that liberty which is not denied to the meanest woman in the choice of husband, spread false reports of our cousin … stirring up our subjects by those and other devilish ways to rebel.’26 The same day Croft, the last of the conspirators still in London, left to go back to his estates on the Welsh Borders. On 25 January, with all the participants now apparently in place, Sir Thomas Wyatt raised his standard at Maidstone.The rebellion had finally begun. But when it came to raising Devon, Carew had found himself stoutly opposed by local militias. He could not deliver his county, so he fled to France, dangerously exposing the others in the plot and providing ammunition for all those who said that the conspirators were in the pay of the French.
Mary and the council were informed at once but still seem to have been unclear as to the ultimate aims of the rebels. The duke of Suffolk was at first thought to be the ringleader and it was assumed that he intended to ‘advance Lady Jane and Guildford Dudley, attainted traitors, to the crown’.Why else would he be taking up arms against the queen, who had pardoned him for his part in Northumberland’s attempted coup only two months earlier? No mention was made publicly of an altogether different aim, that of replacing Mary with Courtenay and Elizabeth.
The queen wrote to her sister from the palace of St James as soon as the news was confirmed that Wyatt was at the head of a substantial force in Kent. The letter described the danger of rebellion and also revealed that the queen knew something of Elizabeth’s plans, which Mary was ordering her to change. It described howcertain ill-disposed persons, minding more the satisfaction of their own malicious and seditious minds than their duty of allegiance towards us, have of late falsely spread lewd and untrue rumours and … do travail to induce our good and loving subjects to an unnatural rebellion … we, tendering the surety of your person, which might be in some peril if any sudden tumult should arise, either where you be now or at Donnington, whither (as we understand) you are bound shortly to remove, do therefore think it expedient you should put yourself in good readiness with all convenient speed to make your repair hither to us, which, we pray you, fail not to do …27
Elizabeth, pleading ill health and the great difficulties of travelling given the poor condition of the roads, declined. Besides, the news could not have come as a great surprise to her, since she had known about the timing of the uprising before Mary. Sir James Croft had made a detour to Ashridge on his way home to Wales and had taken Elizabeth into his confidence. It was he who advised her to move out of harm’s way, to her house at Donnington in Berkshire. Enigmatic as ever, Elizabeth stayed put, but she did not send post-haste to advise her sister of what she knew, nor did she make any public profession of loyalty at this stage.The decision to allow Elizabeth to leave court now seemed a dangerous mistake, especially when events took a still more serious turn. On the same day that Mary wrote to her sister, a French spy was intercepted near Rochester carrying Noailles’ dispatches. He was found to have in his possession a French translation of a letter written by Elizabeth to Mary some days earlier.
How did it get there and what, if anything, did it prove? The case of Elizabeth’s letter is one of the great diplomatic intrigues of the 16th century, and there has never been a wholly compelling explanation of how it came to be in the Frenchman’s pouch.The letter itself was unremarkable. It referred to Elizabeth’s continued ill health and gave the impression that she had not enjoyed the festive season: ‘I have been troubled, since my arrival at my house, with such a cold and headache that I have never felt their like, and especially during the last three weeks I have had no respite because of the pain in my head and also in my arms.’Then there was a reference to the fact that Mary had written, in her own hand, to her sister:‘To tell me the conclusion of your marriage and of the articles to accompany it.’ She was circumspect in what she said about this, noting only that ‘this is a deep and weighty matter, but I have no doubt that it will redound to the glory of God’.28 Despite what some writers have said, this was not a copy of Elizabeth’s refusal to come to court in response to Wyatt’s uprising in Kent. Mary did not write to Ashridge until the day the French courier was detained, and Elizabeth’s letter, though undated, is clearly earlier.
But the implications for the queen of this unexpected find were disturbing. Either there were traitors on the council, passing on her correspondence to the French, or her sister had established a secret line of communication with the French ambassador.The first possibility left Mary isolated, with only the increasingly hysterical Renard as someone she could trust.The second explanation intensified her suspicions of her absent sister. She could not discount either theory.
The truth will never be known for sure, but the deviousness of those involved, an atmosphere laden with false trails, half-lies and a complex system of espionage, suggests one possible interpretation that Mary never considered. Renard was often given copies of Mary’s correspondence by the queen herself. He could have translated it personally and ensured that it got to Noailles through the shadowy network of agents that both men used. Its discovery would be a further indictment against Elizabeth, the kind of proof that Mary’s advisers were demanding if action were to be taken against the queen’s sister.Yet the timing of the ‘discovery’ meant that Renard, if he was, indeed, responsible, had played his hand too soon.The prospect of a major attack on London by Wyatt’s men was far more serious. Elizabeth could wait.
Once Wyatt moved, he did not do things by half-measures. His campaigning instincts and leadership qualities quickly brought 3,000 men flocking to his standard. Kent was fertile ground for any attack on the government, with its history of rebelliousness and dislike of London’s authority. But in London, at the hastily convened meetings and crisis talks of the court and council, there was fear and uncertainty mixed with an air of unreality. Paget and Gardiner blamed each other for the threat that the queen now faced, while conc
urring that as much should be kept from her as possible. Their withholding of information disadvantaged them as much as it infuriated Mary. The only person willing, almost eager, to tell her what he thought was going on was, of course, Renard. The council resented his intimacy with the queen, his self-appointed role as chief adviser, which gave the entirely false impression that the defence of Mary Tudor’s throne was being orchestrated by an agent of the emperor.
And Mary had dire need of men that she could trust and who would treat her as the monarch she was, rather than as a feeble woman. For although the intended uprisings in Devon, the Midlands and Wales failed to materialise through lack of local support,Wyatt’s insurrection looked daily more menacing. It needed to be met with organised military strength.The force sent to confront Wyatt at Rochester was commanded by the duke of Norfolk, still the senior peer of the realm, and despite his age it was felt that he had the authority to handle the situation. But even Norfolk himself, when he wrote to the council on 29 January, did not sound optimistic about his chances: ‘they have fortified the bridge at Rochester, so it will be hard passing them. We shall do the best we can … Think no ill of such lords and gentlemen as were appointed to come with me, for they have honest excuse, the weather being so terrible that no man can stir by water or well by land.’29 The duke was compelled to retire the next day when most of his men, who may have received financial inducements from Noailles, went over to Wyatt. In this ignominious way, the council’s attempt to defeat the rebels by direct military engagement was snuffed out and Wyatt moved towards London unimpeded.
