MARY'S lodging is said to have been "at the corner of the street leading from the Castle of Ponthieu to the rue St Giles," and this, according to "Le Roi des Ribauds," was connected by a temporary gallery with the Hotel Gruthuse,[312] the King's house, from which it was distanced a short stone's throw. But the gardens adjoined, and it was by this way,[313] the morning being fine, that the marriage procession passed about eight o'clock on Monday, October 9, for the wedding was to take place an hour later. First walked twenty-six knights two and two, then followed trumpeters and all sorts of musicians and macers. Mary came next, escorted by the Duke of Norfolk and the Marquis of Dorset. She wore a gown of stiff gold brocade trimmed and lined with ermine, her headgear was in the English fashion, and her jewels were of very great price, but she was still pale and showed traces of fatigue, and, according to the usual tradition, did not look her best as a bride, for millinery turns its back on emotions. She was surrounded by her other noblemen, all cap in hand, and more sumptuously dressed than for the entry, for they all wore gowns of some kind of cloth of gold lined with most beautiful sables, or other kind of fine fur, and their gold chains were wearisome to look at, so burdensome did they appear in their massiveness. After the noblemen followed the Queen's gentlewomen and maidens in gold brocade, one after the other, walking between two gentlemen cap in hand. Slowly this streak of moving gold passed from the garden gate to the door of the hall where the ceremony was to take place, by a way lined by the gentlemen of the Scots Guards with their maces in their hands, and by the archers of the Guard. The crush at the door was very great, and within the dim hall, lighted by windows representing the deeds of St Wolfran, was Louis, dressed, like his wife, in cloth of gold and ermine and seated on a chair near the altar. When Mary appeared "the King doffed his bonnet and the Queen curtseyed to the ground," then he kissed her, and she was seated by his side on the chair waiting for her under a canopy held by the princes of France. The treasurer, Robertet, now handed the King a necklace in which was set "a great pointed diamond with a ruby almost two inches long without foil,"[314] and Louis put it round Mary's neck. Mass then began, and the Dauphin served the King, while Madame, "with a marvellous sorrow," served Mary, as she had been wont to do her mother:[315] the candles were held by princes of France. The Cardinal of Bayeux married them and then sung Mass, and when he gave the wafer, one half to the King and the other to the Queen, Louis, after he had kissed and received his, turned and kissed his wife. Then Mary again curtseyed to the ground, and departed to her own rooms to dine with the French princesses, when she was waited on by French officers and the Duke of Albany. The English ambassadors dined with the Duke of Brittany and the rest of the company in the large chamber of the King's palace where open house was kept for all comers during three days. After dinner they all danced in the hall till evening, and the glitter of the company can hardly be imagined—jewels, cloths of gold and silver, brocades, and brilliant silks; beautiful women and fine men, French and English, it was impossible to say which were the most richly clad, only an Englishman was always known by his heavy gold chain. In the evening Louis had Mary dressed in French fashion and they gave a ball, and there was more dancing, good cheer, and banqueting when Mary was served for the last time by Englishmen, who, clad in cloth of gold, knelt the whole time. Some thought the French fashion did not become her so well as the English, others thought she had never looked better in her life; but whichever may be correct, Louis at any rate could not bear her to leave his side. She must have chattered away to him a kind of mixture of her own desires and vague remembrances of her brother's wishes, for she asked him to undertake a new Italian expedition, and told him she longed above all things to go to Venice, and Louis promised that they would go together.[316] The evening passed, "and at the eighth hour before midnight, the Queen was taken away from the entertainment by Madame to go and sleep with the King," and "the next morning, the 10th, the King seemed very jovial and gay and in love by his countenance."
But alas! it was not for long. "Ces amoureuses nopces"[317] were too much for him, "antique and debile" as he was, and the same day the gout gripped him again. Perhaps it was this that made him take such a profound dislike to old Lady Guildford and insist on her returning home. Louis was determined to abide by the original contract, and said his wife's foreign train was too large. Lady Guildford distrusted Louis as profoundly as he disliked her and had an aversion not inexplicable to leaving her pupil in the hands of such a feeble old man. She went so far, however, as to refuse to leave them alone and when Louis would have been "merry" she was always there with her forbidding look. Still she was Mary's one stay in the circumstances of her marriage, and it was hard, much probably as the Queen resented her assumed airs of authority, to part from her. But go she had to, though Mary wept and said she had never expected such treatment, said she would write to her brother, and told her to wait at Boulogne till the answer arrived, for she would reinstate her. Norfolk refused to meddle with the arrangement out of pique, for the suite was of Wolsey's choosing, not his. Here is Mary's indignant and peremptory letter:—
"My good Brother, as heartily as I can I recommend me unto your Grace, marvelling much that I never heard from you since our departing, so often as I have sent and written unto you. And now am I left post alone in effect, for on the morn after marriage my chamberlain and all other men servants were discharged, and in like wise my mother Guildford with other my women and maidens, except such as never had experience nor knowledge how to advertise or give me counsel in any time of need, which is to be feared more shortly than your grace thought at the time of my departing, as my mother Guildford can more plainly shew your grace than I can write, to whom I beseech you to give credence. And if it may be by any mean possible I humbly require you to cause my said mother Guildford to repair hither once again. For else if any chance hap other than weal I shall not know where nor by whom to ask any good counsel to your pleasure nor yet to mine own profit. I marvel much that my lord of Norfolk would at all times so lightly grant everything at their requests here. I am well assured that when ye know the truth of everything as my mother Guildford can shew you, ye would full little have thought I should have been thus intreated; that would God my lord of York had come with me in the room of Norfolk; for then I am sure I should have been left much more at my heartsease than I am now. And thus I bid your grace farewell with [mutilated] as ever had Prince: and more heartsease than I have now.
[I beseech] give credence to my mother Guildford.
By your loving sister,
MARY, Queen of France."[318]
Not content with this, on the same date, the day before Lady Guildford and the rejected suite returned to England, she wrote to Wolsey: "I recommend me unto you as heartily as I can, and as showeth [be not] intreated as the King and you thought I should have been, for the morn after the marriage all my servants, both men and women, were discharged. Insomuch that my mother Guildford was also discharged, whom as you know the King and you willed me in anywise to be counselled. But for anything I might do in no wise might I have any grant for her abode here, which I assure you, my lord, is much to my discomfort, besides many other discomforts, that ye would full little have thought. I have not yet seen in France any lady or gentlewoman so necessary for me as she is, nor yet so meet to do the King my brother service as she is. And for my part, my lord, as you love the King, my brother, and me, find the means that she may in all haste come hither again, for I had as lief lose the winning I shall have in France to lose her counsel when I shall lack it, which is not like long to be required as I am sure the noblemen and gentlemen can shew you more than becometh me to write in this matter. I pray you my lord give credence to my mother Guildford in everything concerning this matter. And albeit my lord of Norfolk hath neither dealt with me nor yet with her at this time, yet I pray you to be a good lord unto her. And would to God my [...] had been so good to have had you with me hither when I had my lord of Norfolk. And thus fare ye well, my lord. My lord, I pray you give credence to my [mother Guild]ford in my sorrows she have delyre.[?]
From your own while I live,
Mary, Queen of France."[319]
Poor Mary, she was already paying dear, she thought, for her jewels, and was little consoled that day by her husband's new gifts of rubies and diamonds and pearls. But Louis had a story of his own to tell, for Henry and Wolsey both wrote on the subject, the bishop as follows:[320]—"Since the King, my sovereign lord and master, your good brother had ordered on account of the true, perfect, and entire confidence which he had in Mistress Guildford that she should be with the Queen, his sister, your wife, on account of the good manners and experience which he knew her to have, and also because she speaks the language well: in order also that the said Queen, his sister, might be better advised, and taught by her how she ought to conduct herself towards you under all circumstances, considering, moreover, that the Queen, his said good sister, is a young lady and that she should be abroad, not understanding the language perfectly, and having no acquaintance with any of the ladies there, to whom she might disclose such feelings as women are given to, and that she had no one of her acquaintance to whom she could familiarly tell and disclose her mind, that she might find herself desolate as it were, and might thereby entertain regret and displeasure, which peradventure might cause her to have some sickness and her bodily health to be impaired, which God forbid, and should such an accident happen, I believe, Sir, that you would be most grieved and displeased. And whereas, Sir, I have known and understood that the said Mistress Guildford is at Boulogne on her return here, and that she was entirely discharged, doubting lest the King, my master, should he know it, might think it somewhat strange, I have ventured to write to the said lady to tarry awhile in the said town of Boulogne until I had written to you my poor and simple opinion on this subject, which Sir, I now do. And, by your leave, Sir, it seems to me that you should retain her for some time in the service of the Queen, your wife, and not discharge her so suddenly, seeing and considering that the King, your said good brother, has taken her from a solitary place which she had never intended to quit, to place her in the service of the Queen, his good sister. And I have no doubt, Sir, that when you know her well you will find her a wise, honourable, and confidential lady, very desirous and earnest to follow out in all things possible to her, your wish or pleasure in all that you may order or command, whatever report has been or may be made to the contrary." Gerard Danet[321] had been sent on with letters to Wolsey, while the good lady planted herself at Boulogne to await the development of events which she expected would make for her restoration, and on his way to Canterbury had fallen in with Suffolk. The Duke wrote at once to Wolsey of the affair in which he saw the hands of the Howards, "fader and son," and asked Wolsey to see that something was done, for if Mary was not well treated they would be blamed. But Louis would have none of her. First he remarked dryly to the English agent[322] that "his wife and he be in good and perfect love as ever two creatures can be, and both of age to rule themself, and not to have servants that should look to rule him or her. If his wife have need of counsel or to be ruled he is able to do it, but he was sure it was never the Queen's mind or desire to have her again, for as soon as she came aland, and also when he was married, she began to take upon her not only to rule the Queen but also that she should not come to him but that she should be with her, nor that no lady nor lord should speak with her but she should hear it, and began to set a murmur and a banding among the ladies of the court." "And then he swore that there was never man that better loved his wife than he did, but or he would have such a woman about her he had liefer be without her." He was sure that when Henry knew all, he would be satisfied. "For in nowise he would not have her about his wife, also he said that he is a sickly body and not at all times that [he would] be merry with his wife to have any strange wo[man there] but one that he is well acquainted with [and before whom he] durst be merry, and that he is sure [the Queen his] wife is content withal for he hath set [about her neither] lady or gentle-woman to be with her for her [mistress but her] servants and to obey her commandments." But poor Lady Guildford's unkindest cut was to come from her young mistress, for three weeks after those impassioned letters Mary calmly assured the Earl of Worcester that "she loved my Lady Guildford well, but she is content that she come not, for she is in that case that she may well be without her, for she may do what she will,"[323] and Worcester adds rather doubtfully, "I pray God that so it may continue to his pleasure."
The dismissing of the sheep dog was done by Louis but the rest of the suite, save those in the original contract, was got rid of in a much more ceremonious fashion by means of the Council.[324] Francis d'AngoulÊme was at the bottom of it, for he did and undid all in the court, and with him just now the English ambassadors had to reckon. He was cordiality itself, and sent florid messages to Henry, desiring Worcester "that sithens the Duke of AngoulÊme might not come to your presence, to bear the Earl of AngoulÊme's heart to you,"[325] and many "other good and hearty words." He had cause for contentment if any man of his upbringing, ambitions and temperament ever had, for his chances of a near throne were increased rather than diminished by Louis' marriage, which had so enfeebled the King that he could not leave his bed "and maketh semblance as he would depart every day, but yet he lieth still ever excusing him by his gout."[326] And his dutiful son-in-law gaily retailed to his friend Fleuranges the greatest joy he had ever had in his whole life of twenty years; "Je suis sure, ou on m'a bien fort menti, qu'il est impossible que le Roi et la Reine puissent avoir enfants."[327] Hence partly his cordiality to the king, who had sent "une hacquenÉe pour le [Louis] porter plus vite et plus doucement en Enfer ou au Paradis."
On Friday, October, 13, the English departed laden with presents of plate, and with them Mary's rejected household, leaving Lady Elizabeth Grey, Mary Fenes, Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth Grey [of Wilton], and Anne Jerningham, most of them young and inexperienced. She retained in all thirteen men, including Dr Denton, her almoner, and MaÎtre Guillaume, her physician, and six women, with Jean Barnes, "the chamberiÈre." Mary's eight trumpeters went away with their pockets full of gold from the King, Monsieur, Madame, and the whole court, while the French court musicians and singers were far from content, for the King had forbidden them at the peril of their lives to go to play or sing as wandering minstrels for money in the lodgings of the English. The Court continued at Abbeville till after the 20th, and Mary was continually by the bedside of her husband, who, she told the ambassadors, "maketh as much of her as it is possible for any man to make of a lady."[328] She played to him on her lute and sang, and he was never happy but in her presence, and emptied his seven coffers of jewels slowly into her lap. The Dauphin and Longueville were her very good friends, and both asked her to use her influence with Henry for the deliverance at a reduced ransom of French prisoners in whom they were interested, and she wrote twice on the subject to her brother. There is little doubt that Mary found Francis an amusing companion, and she probably flirted with her son-in-law, for, after all, she was but nineteen and he but twenty, and now she was allowed to do as she liked. Henry did not write to her, but did to his brother-in-law, who had written to him to tell of his joy in the prospect of having an heir. Henry replied that he hoped the rather capricious nature of his sister would not upset these conjugal felicities, "et ainsi lui donnÂmes avisement et conseil avant son dÉpartement, et ne faisons aucun doute l'un jour plus que l'autre ne la trouvez telle que doit Être envers vous et faire toutes choses qui vous peuvent venir À grÉ, plaisir ou contentement."
Before the departure of the English from Abbeville the Dauphin had caused a joust to be proclaimed which was considered of extraordinary character. In November, after the entry of the Queen into Paris he, with nine aides, would answer at the barrier all comers that were gentlemen of name and arms, on horseback and on foot. "The laws of horseback were that with sharp speares they should run five courses at Tilt and five more at Randon, being well armed and covered with pieces of advantage for their best defence. After this to fight twelve strokes with sharpe swords. This being done, he and his aides offered to fight at Barriers with the same persons with a hand spear and a sword."[329] The French herald had carried the proclamation of the jousts to England, and "the Duke of Suffolk, the Marquis of Dorset, and his four brethren, the Lord Clinton, Sir Edward Nevile, Sir Giles Capell, Thomas Cheyne, and others got licence of the King to go over to this challenge."[330] When Suffolk met Dannet at Canterbury he was on his way to Boulogne, where he landed on October 20, and after, no doubt, visiting Lady Guildford with what comfort he could, he set out with the Marquis and his brothers, who were all awaiting him "in grey coats and hoods because they would not be known."[331] The Duke was eager to "stryke wyet the Frynche King,"[332] and his one dread was that the Council, i.e. the Duke of Norfolk and his son, the Earl of Surrey, would insist on his returning home before this was accomplished, "Wherefore, my lord," he wrote to Wolsey, "I beseech you hold your hand fast that I be not sent for back." It was Suffolk's first visit to France, and his idea of distance was insular, not continental, for he expected to be in Paris the day after his landing at Boulogne, but travelling rapidly and passing by Abbeville to Beauvais, they came up with the Court there on the 25th. On hearing of their arrival Louis sent for Suffolk at once to come to him alone, and the Duke was brought straight into the King's room, where he was in bed, with the Queen sitting beside him. Suffolk did his "rywarynes and knyelled down by his bed sede; [the nobleman's own spelling] and soo he brassed me in hes armes and held me a good wyell, and said I was hartylle wyecoum and axsed me, How dows men esspysseal good brodar whom I am so moche bounden to lowf abouf hall the warld?"[333] Suffolk assured Louis of Henry's goodwill and thanks for the honour and love showed to his sister. "And upon that his Grace said that there should [be nothing] that he will spare to do your grace's pleasure a service, with as hearty manner as ever I saw a man: and, Sir, I said unto him that your Grace would do unto him in like case; and he said, I doubt it not, for I know well the nobleness, and trust so much in your master that I reckon I have of him the greatest jewel that ever one prince had of another." At this appropriate moment Suffolk rose from his knees and made his reverence unto the Queen. He gave her her brother's messages and Queen Katharine's, and was more than relieved to see that Mary could control her feelings and order herself wisely and honourably, "the which I assure your Grace rejoiced me not a little; your Grace knows why." Then he goes on, "for I think there was never queen in France that hath demeaned herself more honourably or wiselier, and so says all the noble men in France that have seen her demeanour, the which letted not to speak of it; and as for the King [there was] never a man that set his mind more upon [woman] than he does on her, because she demeans herself so winning unto him, the which I am sure [will be no] little comfort unto your Grace." The conversation turned upon the coming jousts, and the Duke said it would be little honour to win, seeing there were two or three hundred answerers, and Louis said that he would introduce him and the Marquis to the Dauphin to be his aides, and sent for Francis. He came showing himself all regard and courtesy, and in his exaggerated way declared them not aides only but brothers, and carried Suffolk off to supper. There again the conversation was all of jousting and the King of England's prowess, and Francis, with great tact, would talk of nothing but his admiration for Henry's skill. During this interview there is no mention of the "trwcheman" in the French language which last year Suffolk had found necessary, so that he must have taken lessons since his Flemish courtship.
With Suffolk's coming to the Court Mary's difficulties increased, for it was noticed that she gave him many marks of her friendship, but the Duke, according to the testimony of the Marquis of Dorset, behaved himself well and wisely in all matters, and the Dauphin's jealous precautions[334] (he insisted that his wife should never leave the Queen alone for a single minute by day, and that Madame d'Aumont should sleep in her room at night) seemed absolutely unnecessary to any who had not been brought up by Louise de Savoie. The Queen had the pleasure of seeing Suffolk for one day only at Beauvais, and the day after the interview the English departed with Francis for Paris, hunting the boar by the way, when Suffolk and Dorset both killed, and on the 28th they came to Paris to "commune" about the jousts and to see about armour and trappings. The Court came on behind more slowly, and did not arrive at St Denis till the 30th, where, during the feasts of All Hallows and All Souls, they remained quietly in the Abbey. On Friday, November 3, about ten o'clock, the English ambassadors for the Coronation, the Duke of Suffolk, the Marquis of Dorset, the Earl of Worcester, the Lord of St Johns [i.e. the prior of the English langue of the Order of St John of Jerusalem in England], and Dr West, were sent for, and the ceremony was announced for the following Sunday.[335] After this official visit, Suffolk was commanded to the King's lodging to see the two princesses. When he came in, the King "mad me to kyes hys dawttares,"[336] and they conversed for some time about Wolsey's affairs. These were going smoothly, for at Abbeville Louis had ordered the French bishop-elect to retire from the contest and had told Robertet to compensate him, and now Longueville said that everything possible was being done about the Cardinalate. The immediate question to be settled with the ambassadors was the meeting of the two kings, and there was an amicable haggle over the place. While the King was entertaining the Duke, Mary had received a very important visitor, Louise de Savoie, mother of the Dauphin. She arrived in Paris at eleven o'clock on the 3rd, "et celui mesme jour sans me reposer je feus conseillÉe d'aller saluer la reine Marie À St Denys: et sortis de la ville de Paris À trois heures aprÈs midy avec grand nombre de gentishommes."[337] It is very regrettable that she did not record in her diary her opinion of the Queen, but, on the other hand, it proves that there was nothing to be said against Mary, for in that case it would certainly have been her pleasure to write it.
On Sunday, November 5, the Queen was crowned. The English were brought to the church by M. de Montmorency, and an hour after Mary came in with a great company of noblemen and ladies. The Dauphin led her, and before her went the Dukes of AlenÇon, Bourbon, Longueville, Albany, the Count of VendÔme, and the Count of St Pol, with many others. The Queen kneeled before the altar, and was anointed by the Cardinal of Brie, who delivered to her the sceptre and the vierge of justice, put a ring upon her finger, and lastly set the crown upon her head, "which done the Duke of Brittany (i.e. the Dauphin) led her to a stage made on the left side of the altar, where she was set in a chair, under a c[loth of State], and the said Duke stood behind her holding th[e crown] from her head to ease her by the weight thereo[f. And] then the High Mass sungen by the said Cardinal, whereat the Queen departed. After Agnus she [was] houseld. Mass done, she departed to the p[alace] and we to our lodgings to our dinners."[338] Louis had watched the ceremony privately, and next day he left the abbey about seven in the morning for Paris, and Mary followed about nine to make her solemn entry. After dinner at the Chapelle St Denis began the wearisome ceremonial, a repetition on a more grandiose scale of the entry into Abbeville. The city sent deputations to greet her, the law and the merchants likewise, and as Mary's French was not equal to the burden of replying to their welcome, the Archbishop of Paris had to be her spokesman. This was just outside the barriers, where the procession was formed, a replica of that at Abbeville. There were the same guards, the mingling of the French and English heralds, royal and noble, the Princes of the blood, the Queen's courser and palfrey, and then Mary, this time seated in her litter of state, wearing her crown, glittering with jewels worn on her gown of cloth of gold and in her hair. The Dauphin, "lui aussi tout or et diamants," again rode by her side, and they frequently spoke together. Then followed as before the ladies, the French princesses, and the State carriages of the Queen with her ladies and damsels. At the Porte St Denis the trades were waiting with a canopy of cloth of gold embroidered with roses and lilies, and this they bore over the Queen, but, once inside the gate, another halt had to be made to allow a second canopy borne by the merchants and burgesses to be placed over that of the trades. At this point was an allegorical display on a tapestry-covered scaffold of the arms of the city of Paris, a galley under sail with the four winds blowing with bursting cheeks upon it. On the deck were Ceres and Bacchus, while Paris held the tiller. Sailors manned the yards and chanted,
"Noble dame bien soit venue en France:
Par toi vivons en plaisir et en joye,
Francoys, Angloys vivent À leur plaisance:
Louange À Dieu du bien qu'il nous envoye."
Mary's courteous grace in acknowledging the acclamation with which she was greeted as usual pleased the people, and she passed on down the tapestry-hung streets, and through the crowds of cheering people, passed the Fontaine du Ponceau, where the water was scattered over two plants, a lily and a rose; passed the convent of the Holy Trinity, where she saw herself presenting the Pax to her husband, passed the Porte au Peintres, the Holy Innocents, and then on by the Chatelet, where Justice and Truth met together, and she herself, labelled "Stella Maris," was in the foreground, to the Palais Royale, where the angel Gabriel was greeting Mary in the field of France, and they sang,
"Comme la paise entre Dieu et les hommes
Par le moyen de la vierge Marie
Fut jadis faicte, ainsy À prÉsent somme
Bourgoys Francoys deschargez de nos sommes
Car Marie avecque nous se marie."
But this was not the end, though the afternoon was wearing on. The procession now proceeded to Notre Dame de Paris, where all the learned in theology, law and medicine met her in their furred gowns, and outside the church she was harangued by a venerable doctor. Through the open doors of the Cathedral could be seen dimly the group of great ecclesiastics waiting to welcome her. Mary got out of her litter and entered the doors, and at once the bells rang out, and the organs sounded, while the whole clergy chanted the Te Deum, as they turned and led the procession to the high altar. There the whole company adored the Mass, and then the Archbishop of Paris bade the Queen welcome. Back again in her litter to the Palais Royale (and it was now six o'clock) went the Queen with no chance of rest, for the gargantuan part of her day's work remained, and she had to sup in public at the celebrated marble table, the centre of the government of France. In the Grande Salle the doric pillars were all surrounded by sideboards laden with gold and silver plate, the walls were hung with tapestry, and the air was so melodious with clarion and trumpet, that it seemed paradise rather than a room in an earthly palace. Mary had Madame Louise de Savoie, and her daughter the Duchess of AlenÇon, with the Duchess of Nevers, at her table, while her ladies, English and French, dined near by. There were many wonderful dishes of the four and twenty blackbirds type; a phoenix beating its wings till fire consumed it; a cock and a hare jousting; a St George on horseback leading La Pucelle against the English. The heralds and musicians cried "Largesse," and Mary gave to them a ship of silver, and at last, after being rejoiced by a few more pastimes and diversions, she was at liberty to take her leave.[339] Next day after Mass she rode to the HÔtel des Tournelles (which Suffolk calls Turnells tout court), and there she found her husband awaiting her. The remainder of the week was filled by ceremonies incident to the presentations of gifts by the guilds and merchants of the city of Paris, but Mary found time to write to Wolsey for temporary help till her estate was settled for her whilom French master, John Palsgrave, who had not returned to England with the rest of her rejected train, but had made his way to Paris, evidently encouraged by his mistress, in order to study.[340]
