Chapter 12. A Queen is Crowned – The Marriage Game
1522-1523 – England
Bella gerunt alii, tu felix Austria nube.
— Motto of Emperor Maximilian.
Musical Accompaniment: O Sacrum Convivum
Coronation of Henry VI, c. 15th Century.
With the defeat of Buckingham’s rebellion, Queen Catherine had excised a major threat to her daughter’s crown—and had also rid the kingdom of the man who might have been most able to seize her daughter’s inheritance. With Buckingham’s attainder and execution, his family found their circumstances most reduced—especially his son and heir, Henry Stafford, who found himself plummeted into genteel poverty, supported only by the income generated from his wife’s dowry. There was now no threat to the position of England’s little queen; Richard de la Pole, the primary Yorkist pretender, remained fast across the English Channel, and though a friend of the French, it seemed that King François was more concerned with his ambitions in Italy rather than supporting the White Rose. Though there remained other Yorkist lines, especially within England—all was serene, and by 1522, none doubted that Mary was England’s rightful queen—and that when she was of age, she would be England’s monarch. Until then, her mother would continue to hold the reigns of government; Catherine’s quashing of Buckingham’s sedition had only empowered her further—though she worked well with the Privy Council and often took their sound advice, the queen regent had also become more sound in her position.
“England had not been so well governed since the time of Henry VII,” An anonymous writer would say of the period.
“A strange fancy that such a time of prosperity was given to the kingdom—not by a king, but by a Spanish princess—their once queen.”
With the realm secure, it was decided that the young Queen of England, having held that position of birth, should finally be crowned. A coronation would not only offer the kingdom a day of pageantry, feasting, and enjoyment—but it would also firmly legitimize Mary’s position as her father’s successor and the true Queen of England. Following her crowning and anointing, none would be able to speak against her—for she would truly then be queen. The young queen was eight—her ninth birthday would not be until December. She was of the same age as another young monarch who was crowned at her age—the unfortunate Henry VI. With the announcement of the coronation, Catherine turned to the services of an Italian astrologer, Luca Gaurico to decide the most auspicious day for the ceremony.
“You must avoid the Whitsuntide for this momentous occasion,” A fragment of the letter left by Gaurico written to the queen stated.
“I recommend instead that the coronation be held in the late summer. As the Queen bares the name of the Virgin herself, there is no better date than the Feast of her Naitivity. SEPTEMBER 8TH.” Queen Catherine proclaimed that all wishing to participate in the coronation should assemble in the White Hall of Westminster Palace on September 4th—with a Court of Claims headed by the Duke of Norfolk, in his position as Lord Treasurer, and the Earl of Oxford, as Lord Great Chamberlain, to investigate said applications. Appointments were also made for Commissioners of the Coronation; their job was to adapt the previous coronations to suit Mary’s position as England’s Queen Regnant—and to account for her youth.
As plans for the coronation continued apace, there was also the consideration of the queen’s eventual marriage. Though she had been betrothed to Alexander IV of Scotland in 1516, the engagement floundered in 1518. For a time, Catherine had pondered the idea of a match between her daughter and Prince Philip, the son of her nephew—Charles V; but the little boy’s mysterious death in precluded that. The Privy Council, in the matter of the queen’s marriage was divided firmly into two camps—the first, espoused by the queen regent herself, was that a foreign match was necessary, and with-it England could negotiate favorable relations with another kingdom. This camp was divided into different squabbling factions; one set, headed by Thomas Wolsey—now Bishop of Lincoln, advocated a reproachment with France; with numerous candidates suggested, from the Dauphin François—Wolsey spoke floridly of such a match, stating:
“Should our queen marry the heir to France, all divisions between our realms would be healed; the queen’s future progeny would reign as Kings of England and France—and enjoy all that Henry V aspired too.” Other suggestions included Henry II of Navarre, François—the Count of Clermont, son of the Duke of Bourbon, and François of Lorraine, Count of Vaudémont and Lord of Lambesc. Another set, supported by the queen, favored a match oriented towards Spain—with two of the youngest sons of the late King Manuel suggested for the honor—either Prince Henry, or Prince Edward. A third, smaller group, believed that the queen’s future husband (and perhaps their king) should not come from either the camps of France or Spain—Prince John of Denmark was favorably named, as was Christian—eldest son of the Duke of Holstein.
The second camp within the council believed that the queen, rather than seeking a match abroad—ought to conduct a match at home instead. They were held in firm belief that once the queen
did marry—she would surely cease to play such a large role in matters of state and perhaps even hand them over to her husband all together—government being no fit place for a woman. They feared the trouble of a foreign king in their midst—most especially one with lands of his own which might embroil England in ever more senseless conflict. There was also the matter of the rival claimants; those with Yorkist blood were still abound, and though the queen carried Yorkist blood through her grandmother Elizabeth of York, it would do no harm for the queen’s progeny to bear an extra dose of
English royal blood. Of this group, two of the younger sons of Margaret Pole, the Countess of Salisbury were favored—Reginald or Geoffrey, owing primarily to Margaret’s close relationship with Queen Catherine. Another suggestion was William Courtenay (b. 1521)—son of Henry Courtenay, the Earl of Devon and Elizabeth Grey, the Viscountess of Lisle. Despite the age difference of eight years, the young boy was the grandson of Catherine of York, one of Edward IV’s daughters. Some looked upon the age gap as auspicious; after all—hadn’t Queen Catherine been six years older than Henry VIII?
Fons Vitae, by Coljin de Coter, c. 1517.
“All the court—and London, too, are involved in the matter concerning the queen’s marriage,” Isabella Vavasour, a courtier and wit of the period wrote in a letter to her mother.
“It consumes everyone—news abroad cannot even touch it, such as the birth of the Empresses’ new daughter, Isabella—nor the emperor’s rumored affair with a carpenter’s bawd! All wonder instead which road England might travail down upon—France or Spain? Or perhaps none. They say that Queen Catherine is prepared only to consider all things—asking that those envoys who have been sent abroad should measure all manner of things very carefully.” It was little surprise that the queen regent had wishes to act cautiously in the matter of her daughter’s marriage—after all, this was a marriage of the future Queen of England; it was a matter of most paramount importance—not only politically, but personally as well: Catherine knew that her daughter would enter into a marriage of state, but that did not mean that it had to be distasteful for her.
She asked that all the
most relevant facts be sent to her—and commissioned portraits to be made of some of the older candidates.
“I wish to know exactly how the two princes look—their stature, their coloring, and the state of their teeth, as well as any blemishes.” Catherine wrote in a letter to her ambassador in Portugal; a note to the English Ambassador to France was more pointed:
“All know the King of France would consort with Babylon the Great if she proffered herself. Given the court’s grave immorality I ask that you make delicate inquiries into the behaviors of Navarre & Lorraine—such as treatment for illnesses, or rumors of mistresses.” While a note to her envoy in Denmark was tinged with maternal concern:
“When you are able to see Prince John, please send me a full account—of the state of the nursery, his health, and disposition.” Even envoys further afield often sent reports to the queen, knowing that the marriage game was on.
“Louis, the Duke of Bavaria remains unattached…” Wrote one diplomat to the queen, whilst a trader stationed in Poland wrote another:
“They say that one of King Sigismund’s sons, Prince Alexander is a strapping young lad—only a few years younger than the queen…”
Before the proceeding coronation, the court spent the summer at Richmond Palace—where a courtier wrote that
“All was gaiety and joy—masques were put on, and the queen regent provided sumptuous entertainments that had not been seen since the prior reign.” Indeed, with the approaching coronation of their young queen, it was as if all sorrow from the land had evaporated—even if just for a little while. On the eve of the coronation, Catherine and Mary departed Richmond Palace for the Tower of London by barge. As the young queen passed down the River Thames, she was greeted by numerous decorated boats, from which the Lord Mayor and Aldermen watched the royal procession. The garrison of the tower fired a gun salute as their young sovereign approached. While Catherine was bedecked in a gown of black satin, in the Spanish style, it was Queen Mary who was the star of the show—the young queen wore her hair down and loose, with a gown of white satin in the Italian style—the bodice dressed in pearls, while her robe of state was made of gold and silver tissue, with ermine. Rather than a crown, the little queen wore a coronet—a simple band of gold adored with precious stones—rubies, pearls, and sapphires.
Westminster in the time of Henry VIII.
On the eve of the coronation, the Earl of Shrewsbury, as Lord Steward, was deputized to create the Knights of the Bath in the young queen’s honor, owing to these knights being given the honor of their knighthoods while bathing nude within a tub—an act considered too scandalous for the young queen to take part in directly. The honor was granted to ten men—belonging to families of proven loyalty who had ardently supported Queen Catherine in her position of regent. Following this, the young queen made her formal royal entry into London—a grand procession that was headed by the newly created Knights of Bath. The city had been practically scrubbed clean, with the thoroughfares luxuriously decorated, while homes and shops were decorated with tapestries and cloth of gold. The crowds were larger than had been seen in the time of Henry VIII’s coronation, and railing was erected along the route of the procession to keep the boisterous crowds in check. Before the queen rode the Constable of England; while this honor had been given in the previous coronation to the Duke of Buckingham, the honor was given over on this occasion to the Earl of Essex. The queen rode in a litter supported by two white palfreys adorned with white cloth of gold, seated next to her mother. Once again, mother and daughter wore opposing outfits of black and white, with the little queen wearing a robe of crimson velvet. Four noblewomen rode horses alongside the royal litter—the Duchess of Norfolk, Countess of Salisbury, Countess of Shrewsbury, and the Countess of Essex, while a litter behind that of the queen contained six ladies-in-waiting accompanied by ten other ladies in crimson velvet on horseback. Above the queen’s litter was a golden canopy, supported by the Barons of the Cinque Ports. Noblemen and gentlewomen followed close behind, followed by the young queen’s maids of honor: Anne Parr, Frances de Vere, Catherine Blount, and Mary Howard—along with the Mother of the Maids, Margaret Bryan. Behind the maids followed the gentlewomen who served as chamberers—a total of nearly forty female riders, all together: an unprecedented event, meant to showcase the royal household and how it would look under a queen, rather than a king.
Pageants with music and speeches were celebrated in the street throughout the procession; on one street, Venetian merchants staged a welcoming salutation in which a young actors represented the Greek Muses, offering oratory on the brilliance and great creations in music and art that might be experienced in this new reign. The Hanseatic merchants held their pageant on the corner of another street, with a fountain filled with wine and acrobats performing stunts—whilst the Florentine merchants hosted a pageant which depicted Queen Mary as Queen Artemesia of Caria—surrounded by waves which would protect her island kingdom. Other processions were hosted by the London aldermen, and the crowds were riotous with joy.
“Caps flew into the air with ‘nary a hope to recover them—all were too concerned with crying out those golden words—Long live Queen Mary!” On the night before the coronation, Mary slept in the Palace of Westminster within the Painted Chamber—just as her mother and father had in 1509. The young queen slept underneath the mural of Edward the Confessor’s 1042 coronation, in the
Bed of Roses—a state bed that had been commissioned by the queen’s grandfather, Henry VII, for his marriage to Elizabeth of York, and the bed that Prince Arthur—and perhaps her father, Henry VIII, had been conceived in. In due course, she too might sleep in this bed with her future husband and sire England’s future heirs.
Coronation of the Virgin Mary, c. 1509.
The next morning, Mary departed from the Palace of Westminster at eight in the morning, in a procession that would take her to Westminster Abbey—accompanied by a procession of thirty-eight Bishops and Abbots—as well as eight abbesses—one for each year of Mary’s life. Mary was seen off by her mother, Catherine, who embraced her young daughter—Catherine herself would not attend the coronation, as it was not customary for Queen Dowagers to attend coronations. Three naked swords were carried before the queen—with two of them representing justice in its various forms: temporal and spiritual. The final sword, the
Curtana, was carried by the Marquess of Dorset, representing mercy. All eyes were upon the queen; as in previous days, she wore her hair down and loose; but for this occasion, she was dressed in a French style gown made of golden brocade—the bodice and sleeves decorated sumptuously with pearls. Cloth merchants had supplied 4000 yards of various cloth for the coronation; coronation robes cost some £1400, while total bill for silks and cloths had cost the crown some £5500—with £1100 alone was spent to pay for Queen Mary’s coronation robe. Pieces of the robes worn by Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon were reused for his daughter’s coronation robe. Behind the queen was the procession of nobility, with countesses and noblewomen in pairs, holding their coronets. The queen’s train was held by the Earl of Worcester, the Lord Chamberlain, alongside the Duchess of Norfolk as England’s premier peeress. The abbey was carefully decorated, hung with rich tapestries and cloth of gold and silver—with the floor prepared with fresh rushes that had been scented with lavender and rose.
When the queen finally entered the abbey, Archbishop Warham declared the queen’s pardon for prisoners—excluding those held within the Tower of London and some within the Marshalsea. Mary was soon led to King Edward’s Chair by two noblemen. After a short period, Mary was joined by Archbishop Warham upon the raised dais in the sight of the people. Edward’s Chair was upon the center of the dais—draped in rich fabrics, brocade and silk in both gold and silver. The little queen showed herself at the four corners of the dais—so that her subjects gathered within the abbey could see her. Archbishop Warham then introduced Mary as queen, as part of the ceremony known as the
recognition.
“Sirs, here is present Mary, King Henry VIII’s daughter, rightful and undoubted inheritrix by the Laws of God and man to the Crown and Royal Dignity of this realm of England and Frace, whereupon you shall understand that this day is appointed by all peers of this land for the consecration, injunction and coronation of the said most excellent princess; will you serve at this time, and give your wills and assent to the same?” When the Archbishop asked for the people’s assent, the spectators cried out in one voice:
“Yea, yea, yea! God save Queen Mary!” The young queen was then escorted back to Edward’s Chair where she would make her offerings. John Vesey, the Bishop of Exeter was given the honor of preaching the coronation sermon—which touched upon the theme of obedience and included a parable about the life of the Virgin Mary.
Mary was then asked to take her coronation oath before the Bishop of Exeter, which she duly did—in the same form that had been given by her father, Henry VIII:
“With a good and devout soul… I promise… I shall keep the privilege of canon law and of holy church… and I shall… by God’s Grace… defend you and every each of you, bishops and abbots, through my realm and all these churches to you and them committed; all these things… I, Mary, Queen of England promise and confirm to keep and observe, so help me God and by these holy evangelists by me touched upon this holy altar.”
Following the queen’s oath, the choir rose in song—and the young queen was escorted into the traverse on the right-hand side of the dais—a curtained off area where Mary could be changed into a different attire by her ladies of the privy chamber. The young queen switched from the gown of golden brocade into the
Colobium Sidonis, a tunic worn by English monarchs during their anointing. Mary’s tunic was made of silk taffeta—very similar to the one which her mother had worn in 1509. Following her change in costume, Mary proceeded to the high altar. From there, Mary was anointed by Archbishop Warham—holy oil being placed upon her palms, chest, back, shoulders, her elbows, as well as her head; each sign was done in the sign of the cross. This was the most mythical and sacred part of the coronation—with her anointing the young queen would cease to be a mere mortal; she would be bound then to God and her coronation oath, and so some believed—in direct contact with the divine. The archbishop spoke plainly during the anointment:
“As kings, priests, and prophets were anointed, and as Solomon was anointed king by Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet, so be thou—anointed, blessed, and consecrated Queen over the peoples whom Lord thy God has given thee to rule and govern—from now until your death.”
Portrait of a Young Princess, c. 1520.
Queen Mary would wear a dress of similar style.
Following the queen’s anointment, she was dressed by Mistress Fortescue, her long-time nurse, in a kirtle of cloth of silver, with Venice gold lace and black threading—the train furred with ermine, as well as a mantle of Tyrian purple. The queen’s shoes were sabatons of black cloth of gold, lined with satin and dressed in Venetian gold ribbon and golden passamyne lace.
“The queen bore the ceremony with quiet grace,” Rudolf Truchseß von Lützel—an Imperial Knight and diplomat—wrote in a letter to his patrons.
“Though the weariness was evident upon her face as day wore on… one cannot help but wonder what this young queen was possibly thinking of during this auspicious occasion.” Following the anointment, the Duke of Norfolk brought in three crowns—St. Edwards Crown, the Imperial Crown, and a crown that had been specifically made for Mary. Archbishop Warham crowned Mary three times, with each crown—with the archbishop holding St. Edwards Crown as well as the Imperial Crown upon Mary’s head—owing to the great weight of the crowns and the youthful queen’s small stature. Warham then offered the queen a golden ring—which was placed upon her marrying finger—while the Master of the Jewelhouse offered a pair of bracelets set with precious stones and pearls.
It was now the turn of the nobility to make their homage to their queen—starting with England’s most senior peer, the Duke of Norfolk. Norfolk knelt before his young sovereign as he pledged his loyalty and fealty:
“I, Thomas Howard… become your liegeman of life and limb and of earthly worship and faith and truth and I shall bear unto you, to live and to die against all manner of folk, so God help me and his saints.” Following Norfolk came the earls and barons. Mass was celebrated while the young queen knelt—holding the royal scepter that had been held by the Earl of Shrewsbury—as well as the consort’s scepter which was topped with a dove. At the end of the mass, the queen once more entered the traverse. She suffered a brief fit after retreating to the traverse and fainted briefly—perhaps from the strain and exhaustion of the long ceremony. Her ladies were able to revive her with smelling salts, and she reappeared upon the dais restored, and in her coronation robes—trimmed with ermine and made with golden cloth of gold, with a brocade of Tudor Roses and Fleur-de-Lys etched in silver silk thread.
Following the ceremony, a banquet was held at Westminster Hall—with Mary seated in St. Edward’s chair, where an anonymous spectator wrote:
“Two of her maids sat at her feet—Mistress Parr and Mistress Blount—with the queen’s smile as wide as can be. The two girls chatted with their sovereign as easily as they had before this momentous occasion, pleasing the queen with their impressions and jokes… they had little issue bringing a smile to the queen’s face.” Spectators who had watched the young queen leave Westminster Abbey were eager to tear up pieces of the scarlet fabric used as a runner in which the queen had walked on. The feast was sumptuous, with not only a variety of roasted meats and game, but fish, as well—from lamprey pie and fat sturgeons to pike, haddock, and salmon—smoked and broiled. There were soups and stews, and a variety of desserts—rich cakes, pastries, and wine, ale, and beer flowed freely—with the more genteel patrons allowed to watch the queen and nobility dine. During the feast, the Queen’s Champion—Sir Richard Dymoke rode into Westminster Hall in full armor, where he threw down a glove and offered to challenge any who might seek to question Mary’s right to be queen. When there was no response, the young queen offered Dymoke his fee—a gold cup which she passed to him, filled with wine, as well as the right to the horse and armor he had used. He was additionally granted fifteen yards of crimson satin, and the food allowance of a Baron. With the culmination of the feast, the coronation day soon came to an end—and the young Queen of England’s position was more secure than ever.
Although no match for Mary has been settled on yet