CLOTH OF FRIEZE WEDS CLOTH OF GOLD

Henry VIII was accused, at the time, of having sent Suffolk as special ambassador, on the death of King Louis, in order to lure his sister back to England, with the object, as soon as he had her in his power, of re-opening negotiations for her marriage with the Archduke Charles of Castile.[29] If this was the case, he little understood his sister’s character, for in her first interview with Suffolk she gave him to understand that she “would not land in her brother’s dominions except as his [Suffolk’s] bride.” According to the French contemporary historian Daniel,[30] she even declared: “If you do not court and wed me within four days I will not hold you for much of a man, and will stay abroad.” The duke, much alarmed, remonstrated with her, objecting that so exalted an alliance might lead to his ruin both in France and England, seeing he was but “base born”; and, he might have added, already married to no less than two wives, both still living. The young dowager of France, however, reminded him that “when she married King Louis she had made it a condition that on becoming a widow she was to have full liberty to marry whom she chose, and she chose to marry none other than himself.” Whereupon Suffolk, as he subsequently informed his master, “could but obey”; and, to use his homely expression, “she and I were married.”[31]

Louise of Savoy’s spies soon informed her that Mary and Suffolk were in constant communication with each other, and she was even informed that the duke had been seen leaving her apartment at questionable hours. Seizing a favourable opportunity when she knew the lovers to be together, the duchess threw open the door of the queen’s closet and, it seems, discovered Her Majesty and her lover in so compromising a situation, that “she ordered the startled couple into the chapel and then and there had them married by a priest who chanced to be saying Mass.” When Francis heard the wedding was well over, he did all in his power to propitiate his “dearly beloved brother Henry VIII.” He was not very successful, however, and Mary and her husband had to spend some weeks of terrible suspense, during which an astounding correspondence was kept up between them, Henry VIII, and Wolsey,[32] one of Mary’s staunchest friends, who consistently took her part. Most of Suffolk’s letters are undated, and written in an almost illegible hand. Their tone is honest enough, but he takes good care not to allude to the fact that he had two wives living. In one missive, of a particularly confidential sort, he expresses fear that this royal marriage may ruin him; and adds: “My Lord, as the reverence of God, help that I may be married as I go out of France openly for many things of which I will advertise you.” The queen’s handwriting in her numerous letters to her brother and to the cardinal varies much, apparently according to the state of her nerves. In some of them her hand has evidently trembled, so as to render her calligraphy almost illegible, and this is notably the case in a document which settled her business to her own satisfaction and most certainly to that of her greedy brother. As we have seen, King Louis had been very lavish with gifts of gold and silver plate, and above all jewelry, including even the celebrated “Star of Naples” (Stella di Napoli),[33] a diamond of abnormal size and brilliance, which Charles VIII had filched from Ferrante of Naples, when he paid his unwelcome visit to Italy in 1498. These glittering baubles, valued in those days at the enormous sum of £200,000, equal to over £1,000,000 of present currency, together with her rich dower, Mary freely handed over to Henry VIII, on condition that he recognized her marriage with her worthless, though handsome, husband and forgave them both. The deed of gift[34] whereby the queen yields up all her treasures to Henry VIII, is preserved in the CottonÍan Collection in the King’s Library of the British Museum. When Francis I learnt that she had parted with the “Star of Naples” he waxed exceeding wroth and attempted to repossess himself of it. If Duchess Louise, who at this time ruled her son, had not been in such a hurry to get rid of the queen dowager, this affair of the Neapolitan diamond might have cost Mary dear. Out of France, however, it was necessary that she should go, and the sooner the better; so she was allowed to depart in peace, with all her valuables, which, shortly after her arrival in England, were duly handed over to the king, her brother.[35]

Henry was so well pleased with the treasure she brought him that he received his sister at Greenwich Palace with effusion, and was ostentatiously civil to Suffolk. On May 13, 1515, the Queen Dowager of France and Charles Brandon were re-married publicly in Grey Friars’ Church, Greenwich, the ceremony being performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury and graced by the presence of King Henry and Katherine of Aragon. The wedding was followed by a magnificent banquet, the plan for the arrangement of the table for which still exists. This plan proves that in those days ladies and gentlemen were seated alternately, according to their precedence, precisely as at a modern dinner-party. In honour of these unequal nuptials, elaborate jousts and tournaments were held, in which the bridegroom, and Thomas, Marquis of Dorset, Lady Jane’s other grandfather, won great applause and many prizes. A number of bridal portraits, intended as gifts to friends, were painted on this occasion. These depict Mary Tudor as a broad-faced woman, with an evidently dazzling complexion, small eyes, golden hair, and a firm but rather sensual mouth. At the Historical Exhibition held in the New Gallery in 1902, the writer was particularly struck by the remarkable resemblance between the disputed likeness of Jane Grey, preserved at Althorp, and the small portrait of her grandmother, Mary Tudor, attributed to Holbein, now in His Majesty’s collection at Windsor Castle. Mary has the same broad face with small features as Jane Grey. Her expression is pleasing[36] and bears a strong resemblance to the earlier likenesses of Henry VIII. In the Windsor picture the queen-duchess holds a globe in the shape of an artichoke, above which, in the left corner of the portrait, appear some lines, said to have been composed by the Duke of Suffolk for the occasion:—

“Cloth of gold, do not despise,
Though thou hast wedded cloth of frieze.
Cloth of frieze, be not too bold,
Though thou hast wedded cloth of gold.”

The attitude assumed by Cardinal Wolsey in the affair of Charles Brandon’s royal marriage was friendly enough both to bride and bridegroom, although in the course of the correspondence which preceded the wedding, he reminded Suffolk, in very straightforward fashion, of his “cloth-of-frieze” origin. There was some mysterious connection between the cardinal and Charles Brandon: it seems, indeed, that Henry VIII had conceived the sinister project of ridding himself of his brother-in-law on some trumped-up charge of treason, once he had possessed himself of her treasure. Apparently Wolsey saved Brandon’s life at that time, of which fact he reminded him some years later. Suffolk was one of the judges at Queen Katherine’s trial (1529), and, being exasperated one day by the way in which Wolsey constantly impeded the king’s desire to close the matter at once without appealing to Rome, he struck the table, exclaiming loudly that “they had never been merry in England since a cardinal came amongst them.” Rising to his feet, Wolsey replied with the utmost dignity: “Sir, of all men within this realm, ye have the least cause to dispraise or be offended with cardinals, for, but for me, simple cardinal as I am, you at this moment would have had no head upon your shoulders, and therefore no tongue to make so rude a report against me. You know what friendship ye have received at my hand, and which never before this time have I revealed to any one alive, either to my own glory or to your dishonour.” Suffolk, who well knew the circumstance to which the cardinal alluded, rose abruptly,[37] and, abashed, left the council chamber.

Wolsey evidently hinted at some matter connected with Brandon’s weird matrimonial adventures already related; or else to the fact that he had saved him from the clutches of his brother-in-law for some imprudence history has not revealed.

After her return to England, Mary Tudor regained her royal position, and for a brief time she lived in considerable state at Suffolk’s house on his Southwark estate. A year or two ago, a fair Tudor archway and a few other remains of this fine mansion were discovered during the erection of some model school-houses. Suffolk Court, as it was called, had two parks, one of which stretched down to the bank of the Thames; and in the extensive gardens there was a maze, or labyrinth, similar to the one at Hampton Court. A street in the neighbourhood is still known as Suffolk Street, though probably not one of its inhabitants is aware that it marks the site of a princely residence. The Duke of Suffolk had yet another dwelling in London, situated at the top of the Strand: it was built in 1539 on a site occupied in our day by Northumberland Avenue. He and his royal consort frequently lived here, and probably used it as their winter residence. They occasionally rented Stepney Palace from the bishops of London, and some of Mary’s letters are dated thence.

At Suffolk Court, about eighteen months after her marriage, Mary gave birth to a son, to whom Henry VIII stood godfather, the christening being attended by the king and queen. Some time after his birth, the infant was taken to Bridewell Palace, where Henry raised him to the rank of Earl of Lincoln. At Suffolk Court the queen-duchess received and entertained the Emperor Charles V, when he visited England to be betrothed to the young Princess Mary. Notwithstanding her mÉsalliance, the Duchess of Suffolk was treated as the second lady in the realm, precedence immediately after the queen being accorded to her at all State functions, notably during the great reception given to Charles V at Canterbury (1518), and, later, at that unparalleled pageant, the Field of the Cloth of Gold, at which she figured both as dowager Queen of France and as a princess of the blood royal and a duchess.

In March 1517 Mary and her husband accompanied Katherine of Aragon on a pilgrimage to Walsingham Priory. Three months later, the duchess returned to London to entertain her sister, Margaret of Scotland, whom she had not seen since childhood; on this occasion Suffolk won splendid success in a tournament before the king and the then queen. Later in the same month, Brandon and his wife were at Bishops Hatfield, where, on July 16, was born the Lady Frances, “who was mother to the Lady Jane Grey.”[38] The queen-duchess, it appears, was suddenly taken ill on her way from London to Suffolk, and had perforce to ask the hospitality of the Bishop of Ely, to whom Hatfield Palace in those days belonged. Some years later it was confiscated by Henry VIII and converted into a royal residence.

A very elaborate account of the manner in which the parish church at Hatfield was decorated “with cloth of gold and garlands of evergreen,” on the occasion of the baptism of the said Lady Frances, is still extant. The sponsors were Queen Katherine and the young Princess Mary, who were represented by proxy, the queen by the Lady Anne Boleyn[39] and the princess by the Lady Elizabeth Grey. The Abbot of St. Albans was godfather, and there was an abundant distribution of viands, cakes, and wine, to the parishioners, rich and poor alike.

In 1524 the queen-duchess gave birth to her second daughter, the Lady Eleanor, who in due time became Countess of Cumberland.

All this long while, Brandon’s discarded wife, the Lady Mortimer, nursed her grievance (which she held to be supported by an ecclesiastical dispensation in her possession) against the Duke of Suffolk, so that, justly incensed as she was at his marriage with the ex-queen of France, she endeavoured to force him to recognize her as his legitimate wife; which he steadfastly refused to do. Possibly, in a sense, she blackmailed him, knowing full well the parlous position in which he had placed himself. Some time in 1524, therefore, just before the birth of the Lady Eleanor, Lady Mortimer must have clamoured so loudly for the return of her recalcitrant husband to his conjugal duties, as to make herself very unpleasant, for Brandon was once more fain to have recourse to the law to obtain an official absolute dissolution of his connection with her. He appealed to the ecclesiastical and to the civil courts, and received a favourable verdict from both, the marriage between himself and the Lady Mortimer being declared null and void. This decision, however, did not satisfy Wolsey as a sufficient protection for the queen and her children against the humiliating aspersions persistently cast on them by Lady Mortimer and her friends. In 1528 a mission, headed by Stephen Gardiner and Edward Fox, was sent to Orvieto, where Clement VII was then residing,[40] with the object of inducing His Holiness to despatch Cardinal Campeggio to England to represent the pope on the Commission for the matter of the divorce of Queen Katherine of Aragon. Wolsey availed himself of this mission to forward an account, written by Suffolk and endorsed by himself, of the reasons why the duke petitioned the Pontiff for the dissolution of his marriage with the Lady Mortimer. In this document Suffolk declared that, “although a lapse of time had passed, instead of diminishing, it only increased his crime, and hence his seeking this divorce from a woman with whom he was too closely allied.” Clement, after due investigation, and on the strength of Wolsey’s assurance, issued a bull dissolving the marriage with Lady Mortimer, and declaring the children of Anne Browne, alias Brandon, the second wife, legitimate. This bull, dated Orvieto, May 12, 1528, was not, however, published in England until August of the following year, when Bishop Nix of Norwich read it from the pulpit of his cathedral, to a no doubt highly interested and gossiping congregation. This successful appeal to Rome apparently settled the matter, even in the eyes of Lady Mortimer herself, for she presently took a third husband,[41] Robert Horn, Esq., with whom she lived in peace for the rest of her life, which, however, was not long, for the invaluable Baronagium informs us that she died before the marriage of Suffolk’s second daughter, the Lady Eleanor Brandon, which took place in 1537.

Anne and Mary, the two daughters of Brandon by his second wife, Anne Browne, became respectively Baroness Powis and Viscountess Monteagle. After her mother’s death, the first-named lady, in accordance with the custom of those days, was sent abroad for her education and placed in the household of Suffolk’s faithful friend, Margaret of Savoy, Governess of the Netherlands. Among the State Papers is a letter written by Suffolk, and dated May 13, 1515, in which he thanks the duchess for her kindness to his daughter Anne, and begs she will allow her to return to England “at the request of the queen dowager, my wife.” He sent Sir E. Guildford and Mr. William Woodale to escort the young lady home. Both Miss Strickland and Miss Green, in their respective lives of Mary Tudor, and Mr. Howard, in his Life of Jane Grey, state that Lady Powis, in the thirteenth year of Elizabeth, charged Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, and her sister Eleanor, Countess of Cumberland, with bastardy. This is an error, since an entry in Machyn’s Diary proves that Lady Powis died in 1557,[42] during the reign of Mary. That the affaire Mortimer was revived in the thirteenth year of Elizabeth is true, for among the State Papers we find documents relative to the matter; but it was probably put forward at the instigation of Elizabeth herself, merely as a test case, to settle, once and for all, the validity of the claims of the Ladies Katherine and Mary Grey and their heirs to the succession. The verdict then given confirmed the decision arrived at, forty-two years previously, and the document containing it is endorsed in Burleigh’s own hand.

Lady Monteagle,[43] Brandon’s second daughter, enjoyed the rare distinction of being limned by Holbein, and her portrait is one of the most magnificent in all the collection of drawings of the nobility of the court of Henry VIII, now in the possession of His Majesty the King. She is represented as an exceedingly handsome woman, and wears some fine pearl ornaments, one of them being a medallion in the shape of the letter “M,” composed of very large gems. There was some doubt, at one time, as to whether this particular portrait represented the first or second Lady Monteagle, but the fashion of the gown and the coif, in conjunction with the discovery of the exact date of Holbein’s death, settles the question beyond dispute, and in this drawing we have an undoubted presentment of Brandon’s younger daughter by his second wife.

In addition to his wives, Brandon had a notorious mistress, who bore him several children, one of whom, Sir Charles Brandon, had a son who was a celebrated jeweller in the reign of Elizabeth,[44] and who, some say, was the father of that Richard Brandon who is alleged to have beheaded Charles I.[45] These scandals and many others, of which we know little or nothing, though some are hinted at in the correspondence of the various ambassadors, no doubt affected the happiness of the queen-duchess, and account for the infrequency of her visits to London and her rare appearances at court functions.