So it was out of the question for him to perform the ceremony; and in his place was my good friend Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, accompanied by ten others—an impressive sight, with their copes of gold cloth and their mitres and crosses.
I was led to St. Edward's Chair, and as I sat there Gardiner declared, “Here present is Mary, rightful and undoubted inheritrix by the laws of God and man to the crown and royal dignity of the realms of England, France and Ireland. Will you serve at this time and give your wills and assent to the same consecration, unction and coronation?”
How thrilling it was to hear their response. “Yes! Yes! Yes! God save Queen Mary!”
Then I was led to the high chair by the altar, where I took my coronation oath.
The ceremony of the anointing was carried out, and afterward I was robed in purple velvet trimmed with ermine; the sword was placed in my hands, and the Duke of Norfolk brought the three crowns—St. Edward's, the imperial crown and the one made for me. Each in turn was set on my head while the trumpets sounded.
It was a wonderful moment when I sat with the imperial crown on my head, the sceptre in my right hand and the orb in my left, and received the homage of the nobles of the realm, in which each promised to be my liege man for life…to live and to die with me against all others.
Through the chamber the cry rang out: “God save Queen Mary!”
I was indeed their Queen.
Rebellion
IT WAS FOUR DAYS AFTER MY CORONATION WHEN I OPENED my first Parliament. It was a splendid occasion. People lined the streets to see me ride by, and everyone who could be there was present.
I realize now that I was guileless. I did not know how to dissimulate. How unlike Elizabeth I was! Innocently, I expected everyone to be as I was. It took me a little time to learn that they were not.
The people had chosen me for their Queen. I thought that meant that they were ready to turn back to the Catholic Church and that it would be just as it was before my father broke with Rome.
When it was learned that I intended to return to papal authority, there was dismay in all quarters…even where I had least expected it.
I can see now that few people cared as strongly about religion as I did. There were many who were ready enough to go back to the way it had been during the last years of my father's reign. The religion itself had not changed then. All that had happened was that the monarch was the head of the Church instead of the Pope.
There was another point. Almost every nobleman in the land had profited from the dissolution of the monasteries and acquired Church land, and they would be in no mood to give that up.
All the ambassadors were a little shocked—even Renard, who, I had thought, would be entirely with me.
“You are moving too fast,” he said.
I could not believe that I had heard aright.
“But this is what I have always intended,” I protested.
“The people know it. It is why they have made me their Queen.”
“There will be trouble throughout the country, and Your Majesty is not secure enough to withstand trouble.”
“What do you mean? Did they not proclaim me? Have you not heard how they shout for me in the streets?”
“They shouted for you because they see you as the true heir to the throne, and the people did not like the succession to be meddled with. But have a care. There are many Protestants in this country. They might accept a return to the Catholic Faith, but to take the Church back to Rome at one stroke…it would be too much… too soon.”
“But it is my mission…my purpose.”
“I know … and a worthy one. But go slowly… feel your way. Leave things as they are at the moment.”
“But I will have Mass heard in the churches.”
“That…yes. But do not press for a return to Rome… not yet.”
He was not the only one to warn me. De Noailles, the French ambassador, called. I did not trust him. He was a very wily man. I had known for some time that he was more of a spy than an ambassador. Most of them were, of course, but de Noailles more than any. I knew he hated the thought of my closeness to Spain. Simon Renard, as my cousin's emissary, was a confidant as well as an ambassador. De Noailles knew this, and I believe he wanted to drive a wedge between us, for France and Spain were perennial enemies. If the French had heard of a possible match between myself and Philip of Spain, they would do everything they could to prevent it.
But this time he was in agreement with Simon Renard. France, like Spain, wished to see England back under the papal authority; but they could foresee revolt in England if it came too suddenly. They had just seen Jane Grey made Queen—albeit for only nine days—and they realized how dangerous the situation was and how uncertain my grip on the crown. There was my half-sister Elizabeth waiting to seize her chance.
I was warned not to be too fervent a papist.
Gardiner was one of the few who supported me, but I remembered that he had made no protest when my father had declared himself Head of the Church; and now that there was a new sovereign who believed that the country should return to Rome, he was in agreement with that. Protestants, who must be deploring his release from the Tower, called him Turncoat and Doctor Doubleface.
At the opening of Parliament Gardiner was the one who announced that it was my intention to return to Rome. That was all, but the views of so many which I received afterward influenced me, and I understood that I must not act too quickly; and nothing more was done about the matter at that time.
In the same Parliament I wanted it known that the harsh laws which my father had set up were to be relaxed. A great many people had suffered under my father's rule; I wanted mine to be more merciful.
I found a certain relief in writing to Reginald because I was sure that, from the Continent, he would be watching events in England with great concern.
“I had thought it would be simple,” I wrote to him. “I thought it could be changed at once. But I have been warned. The Emperor's ambassador has warned me. I must not be too hasty. The people are not yet prepared. But I trust you do not think me dilatory. Please do not think for a moment I am failing in my purpose. But I dare not yet show the people my intent.”
He would understand, I felt sure.
How I wished he were younger—and with me. I felt uneasy about the proposed match with Philip. I wondered a great deal about him. I had heard that he lacked the astuteness of his father. Well, that was to be expected as the Emperor Charles was known as the wisest ruler of the age.
Philip, I was told, was deeply religious. On the other hand, he had led rather a wild life, some said. I had heard that he was sensuous and fond of women. That was what alarmed me. He had been married before, to Isabella of Portugal, who had died three years later giving birth to a son, Don Carlos, who must be about six years old. If Philip was looking for passionate excitement in a marriage, I was not the wife for him to choose. But he was the son of the Emperor and I was the Queen of England, so the match was highly suitable on that score. But was it? The people would not wish me to marry a foreigner. They would have liked me to take Edward Courtenay. Moreover, I could not leave my country to go to Spain, and Philip could not leave his and come here. We should see each other rarely, it seemed to me. I began to think that this marriage with Spain would go the way of all the others.