Mary Tudor - Anna Whitelock [102]
On October 10, Renard knelt before Mary and formally offered the hand of Prince Philip. He assured her that “if age and health had permitted,” the emperor would “have desired no other match, but as years and infirmity” rendered him “a poor thing to be offered to her,” he could think of no one dearer or better suited than Philip, “who was of middle age, of distinguished qualities, and of honourable and Catholic upbringing.”
Philip was twenty-six, eleven years Mary’s junior. She was the granddaughter of Ferdinand and Isabella; he was their greatgrandchild. He had already been married to his cousin Infanta Maria of Portugal, who had died in childbirth in July 1545. Their son, Don Carlos, was now nine years old. For Mary the prospect of marriage to Philip represented her imperial destiny, a chance to join the family that she had long since relied on for support and protection. Moreover, it would put England at the center of European politics.
Mary was thrilled, calling it a “greater match than she deserved.” But, she said, “she did not know how the people of England would take it.” She also expressed fears about what the marriage would entail; “if he were disposed to be amorous, such was not her desire, for she was of the age your Majesty knew of, and had never harboured thoughts of love.” She would, however, “wholly love and obey him to whom she had given herself, following the divine commandment and would do nothing against his will.” But, if he wished to “encroach in the government of the kingdom, she would be unable to permit it, nor if her attempted to fill posts and offices with strangers, for the country itself would never stand such interference.”12 Mary would attempt to separate her duties as Philip’s wife and her responsibilities as queen, as her grandmother Isabella had before her.13
For a month the court was an agitated ferment of secret meetings, hushed conversations, and exaggerated rumor. William Paget and Renard lobbied councillors in favor of Philip, and Gardiner pressed the claims of Courtenay. On October 20, Gardiner and a number of Mary’s trusted household servants approached her to speak of the English candidate. As Mary told Renard, because their actions were “dictated by whole-hearted affection and devotion to her service,” she could not “take the advice of such trusty counsellors in bad part.”14 Gardiner had stressed that “the country would never abide a foreigner; Courtenay was the only possible match for her”; Francis Englefield added “that his highness had a kingdom of his own he would not wish to leave to come to England and that his own subjects spoke ill of him.” Edward Waldegrave argued that if the queen “wedded his Highness the country would have to go to war with the French.”
But Mary begged them all to “lay aside their private considerations” and to “think of the present condition of affairs, the French plottings, the marriage of the French Dauphin with the Queen of Scotland, what benefit the country could look for were she to marry Courtenay, and what profit might accrue to it if she chose a foreigner.”
Robert Rochester and other of the household servants were given letters from the emperor in which he feigned to care for their opinions “as to what alliance would be best for her [Mary] and the country,” suggesting that he would be guided by their advice. Meanwhile, by intrigues, bribes, and promises, and drawing on a web of agents and informants, Noailles sought to make the idea of a Spanish alliance hateful to the people of England. When Henry II heard