Here a murmur of indignation arose among the assemblage.
“Now, loving subjects,” continued Mary, “what I am you right well know. I am your queen, to whom, at my coronation, when I was wedded to the realm, and to the laws of the realm (the spousal ring whereof I hold on my finger, never as yet left off, nor hereafter to be so), you promised your allegiance and obedience. And that I am the right and true inheritor of the crown of England, I not only take all Christendom to witness, but also your own acts of parliament confirming my title. My father, as you all know, possessed the regal estate by right of inheritance; and by the same right it descended to me. To him you always showed yourself faithful subjects, and obeyed and served him as your liege lord and king. And, therefore, I doubt not you will show yourselves equally loyal to me, his daughter.”
“God save your highness!” cried the whole assemblage. “Long live Queen Mary!”
“If you are what I believe you,” pursued Mary, energetically; “you will not suffer any rebel to usurp the governance of our person, nor to occupy our estate, especially so presumptuous a traitor as this Wyat, who having abused our subjects to be adherents to his traitorous quarrel, intends, under some plea, to subdue the laws to his will, and to give scope to the rascal and forlorn persons composing his army to make general havoc and spoil of our good city of London.”
“Down with Wyat!” cried several voices. “Down with the rebels!”
“Never having been a mother,” continued Mary, “I cannot tell how naturally a parent loves her children: but certainly a queen may as naturally and as tenderly love her subjects as a mother her child. Assure yourselves, therefore, that I, your sovereign lady, do as tenderly love and favour you; and thus loving you, I cannot but think that you as heartily and faithfully love me again. And so, joined together in a knot of love and of concord, I doubt not we shall be able to give these rebels a short and speedy overthrow.”
Here she was again interrupted by the most enthusiastic expressions of loyalty and devotion.
“On the word of a queen I promise you,” concluded Mary, “if it shall not appear to the nobility and commons in parliament assembled, that my intended marriage is for the benefit of the whole realm, I will not only abstain from it, but from any other alliance. Pluck up your hearts, then, and like true men stand fast with your lawful queen against these rebels, both my enemies and yours, and fear them not, for I fear them nothing at all.”
Thundering plaudits followed Mary’s oration, which, it was evident, had produced the desired effect upon the assemblage; and if any one entered the council-chamber wavering in his loyalty, he returned confirmed in his attachment to the throne. Mary’s intrepid demeanour was sufficient to inspire courage in the most faint-hearted; and her spirit imparted an expression of beauty to her countenance which awakened the warmest admiration among all the beholders.
“You have proved yourself a worthy daughter of your august sire, madam,” observed Bedingfeld.
“I will prove myself so before I have done, Sir Henry,” rejoined Mary, smiling. “I trust myself wholly to you.”
“Your majesty may depend upon me,” replied the old knight. “And now, with your permission, I will withdraw my forces, and visit the ramparts. After your address no one will forsake his post.”
So saying, he departed with the troops, and, after making his rounds, returned to his lodgings.
Mary then appointed Lord William Howard, in conjunction with the Lord Mayor, Sir Thomas White, to the government of the city, and the Earl of Pembroke to the command of the army. These arrangements made, she continued for some time in conference with Gardiner and Renard. Just as she was about to retire, Sir Henry Bedingfeld came to apprise her that Wyat’s army had reached Southwark, and had taken up a position at the foot of London Bridge. After mature deliberation, it was resolved that the rebel-leader should be invited to an interview with the queen; and Bedingfeld was intrusted with the mission.