But why, it may be asked, did she not make her religious zeal more evident at the outset, by sending Bishops to the Council of Trent, in compliance with the request of the Pope, and by using her influence to obtain at least religious toleration for her Catholic subjects? The answer is simple,--because it was beyond her power to do either. She had as much as she could do to save the life of her chaplain when he said Mass in the Chapel-Royal; how could she take any steps publicly to relieve her Catholic subjects? The report of the Papal Nuncio, Nicholas Goudanus, who came to Edinburgh in June, 1562, throws light on the helpless condition of the Queen, and disposes us to sympathize with her in the miseries she was destined to suffer at so early an age, rather than to nourish suspicions of her sincerity and good conscience. He says he was in Edinburgh a month before he could see the Queen, and even then he had to be received in private, while the members of the court were out. Of all the Bishops, the Bishop of Dunkeld alone ventured to receive him. The nuncio came to the Bishop’s house disguised as a banker’s clerk, and, according to a pre-arranged device to avert suspicion, the conversation during dinner was limited to money matters. Mary informed the nuncio that, in order to preserve some remains of the Catholic faith, she had been obliged to do many things much against her will. As regards the power exercised over her by the nobles, Goudanus remarks: "The men in power acknowledge the Queen’s title, but prevent her from exercising any of the rights of sovereignty;[#] whenever her opinion does not agree with theirs, they oppose her at once. Not only that, but they deceive her as well, and frighten her with threats of an English invasion, especially when she is meditating any steps in support of her faith." [#] This statement, however, is too sweeping. As time advanced, Mary became more and more beloved by her people, although the opposition to her religion never abated. When, in 1563, she attended the opening of her first parliament, she was enthusiastically hailed by the populace, whose applause grew all the louder when they heard her address the assembly, not, as they had expected she would, in a strange language, but in their own native tongue, marked though it was by a foreign accent. Knox, who feared the "politick heads" among the children of God might so far fall from grace as to extend a degree of toleration to the outcast children of men, was irritated by this display of affection for the Queen, and he took revenge by denouncing the womanly vanity displayed by her and her ladies, especially the "targetting of their tails"--whatever that meant.