BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD—EARLY MARRIAGE PROJECTS.

1516-1525.

It was characteristic of the times in which the Princess Mary was born, that she should be ushered into the world with a pageant. England had but lately been roused from the lethargy to which the penuriousness of Henry VII. had condemned it, and good-fellowship, display and revelry were the order of the day.

Music and masquerades delighted the young King, and were a fitting background to his florid beauty, brilliant talents and sanguine temperament. The country, in its recoil from the asceticism of parsimony, no less than from the asceticism of mediÆval piety, was well content to amuse itself, and Christmas revels, April jollities and May-day masques were supplemented by tilting at the ring, feasting and tournaments, that made the whole year round a “playing holiday”.

But the desire of the nation was an heir to the greatness, wealth and glory which the English people rejoiced to see centred in their eighth Henry. Three times had their hope been doomed to disappointment, when on the 19th February[1] 1516, Katharine of Arragon gave birth to a daughter. The universal satisfaction was scarcely lessened by the fact that the infant was not the longed-for prince, and in an ecstasy of joy, the Londoners lighted bonfires, roasted oxen whole, and caused the wine to flow merrily in the streets.

Two days later, the Princess, nearly the whole of whose life was to be so great a contrast to its rosy dawn, was baptised with much circumstance and pomp at Greenwich. From the palace gates to the church of the Friars Observants, the well-gravelled path was strewn with rushes, and hung with arras. At the great doors of the church a pavilion covered with tapestry had been erected, and here the child waited with her sponsors to receive the preliminary rites before being carried into the sacred building. Then the procession was formed, and swept through the grand entrance, only used on the most solemn occasions.

The church was resplendent with cloth of gold, precious stones, pearl embroideries, and tapestries from the famous looms of Europe. First walked a goodly array of the nobility, preceding the silver font, brought the day before from Canterbury,[2] and carried by the Earl of Devon, supported by Lord Herbert of Cherbury. The taper was held by the Earl of Surrey, the salt by the Marquis, the chrism by the Marchioness of Dorset. The Lord Chamberlain followed, with the Lord Steward on his right, and under a rich canopy, held by four knights, was the royal infant, in the arms of the Countess of Surrey. On each side of her walked the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. The sponsors at the font were the Cardinal of York (Wolsey), the Lady Katharine, sister of the Prince of Castile (afterwards Charles V.) and the Duchess of Norfolk. Immediately after the baptism followed the bishoping or rite of confirmation, at which the Countess of Salisbury, the celebrated Margaret Plantagenet, daughter of the Duke of Clarence, was sponsor. By her descent from Edward IV. she was a near kinswoman of Mary’s, and was appointed her governess or principal guardian, next to the king and queen.

The Te Deum was sung by the King’s chaplain, after which Mary’s style was proclaimed by the heralds:—

“God give good life and long unto the right high, right noble and right excellent Princess Mary, Princess of England, and daughter of our sovereign lord the King,” etc.

The Venetian ambassador, Sebastian Giustinian, to whose letter we owe the account of the royal christening, makes no mention of the King as having taken part in the procession, but it is probable that Henry witnessed the ceremony from the royal closet, which connected the church of the friars with the palace. The chronicler also omits to say by whom the sacraments of baptism and confirmation were administered, a curious oversight, as the Archbishops of Armagh and Dublin, as well as the Bishops of Durham and Chester, and the Cardinal-Archbishop of York, were present. [3] When Giustinian congratulated Henry on the birth of his daughter, in the name of the Council of Ten, adding, however, that the Signory would have been better pleased if the child had been a son, the King replied:—

“We are both young. If it is a daughter this time, by the grace of God, the sons will follow.”[4]

Giustinian’s despatches are pÆans in Henry’s honour. Who so renowned as the King of England! He is not only “very expert in arms, most excellent in bodily endowments” of every description, but he is also adorned with mental accomplishments far beyond the average. And the admiration of the envoy is not merely general, but detailed. Sagudino, his secretary, writing from the court at Richmond, where he spent a week, together with Giustinian, says that in the evening, they enjoyed hearing the King play and sing, and seeing him dance, and run at the ring by day, “in all which exercises he acquitted himself divinely”. He spoke English, French and Latin, understood Italian, and played almost every instrument. It was the prettiest thing in the world to see him play tennis, “his fair skin glowing through a shirt of the finest texture”. On hearing that Francis I., his great rival, wore a beard, although it was not the English fashion, Henry allowed his own to grow, and as it was of a reddish colour, he is described as having “gotten himself a beard that looks like gold”.[5]

“Is the King of France as tall as I am?” he asked of Pasqualigo, the Venetian envoy to the French Court, who had special instructions to bring about a friendship between Henry and Francis, who was the sworn ally of the Republic of Venice.

Pasqualigo answered diplomatically, that there was little difference in height between them, although Henry was in reality much taller than Francis.

“Is he stout?”

The envoy replied that he was not.

“What sort of legs has he?”

“Spare,” answered Pasqualigo guardedly; upon which Henry opened the front of his doublet, clapped his hand on his thigh, and exclaimed: “Look here, I have a good calf to my leg”.[6]

Pasqualigo was to return to France, and before his departure, Henry took part in a tournament, in which he is declared to have looked “like St. George on horseback”. Sagudino adds slyly, “the king exerted himself to the utmost, that Pasqualigo might make a good report of his prowess to Francis,” and he “never saw so beautiful a sight”.[7]

Henry’s love of learning, his knowledge of theology, his piety, are still more praised. Were it not for the little saving-clause concerning his jealousy of the King of France, and one or two youthful indiscretions, one might ask in vain for a sign of human frailty. He heard three Masses a day, when he hunted, and on other days, often four or five. He followed Vespers and Compline every day in the queen’s closet. Of the regularity with which he despatched business we have still proofs, in the papers belonging to this period in the Record Office.

But corruptio optimi pessima, and Wolsey is mainly responsible for his degeneration, by exercising an almost boundless influence over the King, to flatter his already inordinate vanity. The Venetians were meanwhile so much dazzled by Henry’s brilliant qualities, that they had little admiration left for the Queen. Sagudino dismisses her with the disparaging remark, “she is rather ugly than otherwise,” and the ambassador himself says, “she is not handsome, but has a very beautiful complexion, is very religious, and as virtuous as words can express”.[8] Gerard de Pleine, in a letter to Margaret of Savoy, describes her as of a lively and gracious disposition, quite the opposite of her sister, Joan of Arragon.[9] Her music and dancing were admired, and it was said that she read, wrote and composed in English much better and more correctly than half the ladies of her court. To this Erasmus adds his testimony and says, “Katharine is not only a miracle of learning, but is not less pious than learned”.[10] She was a tertiary of St. Francis, and wore a religious habit under her ordinary dress. Lord Herbert of Cherbury remarks on her virtue and sweet disposition.[11] But to appreciate qualities such as the Queen’s needed more than the rather superficial discernment of Giustinian and his companions, who were so much struck with the pomp and glitter of the English court, that its real worth almost escaped their notice. Erasmus declared that in its serious aspects, it was “more like a museum than a court”.

During the first years of their marriage, the King and Queen had lived together in almost perfect happiness. Katharine was Henry’s chosen adviser, the confidante of his state secrets, and the principal negotiatrix between England and Spain.[12] We have Henry’s own words to prove that the union was not a mere political one. In a letter written in the highest spirits to Ferdinand of Arragon, the King declared that his love for his wife was such that, if he were still free, he would choose her again in preference to all others.[13] Of Katharine’s wifely devotion to Henry there has never been any doubt. She adored him, and thought him a paragon of perfection. But the birth of her daughter threw Katharine henceforth into the shade, and Wolsey, by his consummate state-craft, rapidly gained an ascendency over the King.

For years, Mary was the pivot on which the personal advantages of both King and Chancellor turned, now in one direction, now in another. Her title of Princess of England was equivalent to that of heiress apparent, and thus from the moment of her birth, she became an important piece on the chess-board of European politics. By effecting a brilliant matrimonial alliance for her, Wolsey conceived that he would enhance his master’s prestige among his contemporary sovereigns, and pave the way for his own aggrandisement, always the primum mobile of his schemes.

Before she was a year old, Mary was provided with a household, and Margaret, Lady Bryan,[14] a woman of sound sense and ability, was appointed “lady maistress” over it. Her nurse, Katharine Pole, received £26 in March 1517, being half a year’s salary. Her priest, chaplain or clerk of the closet, Sir Henry Rowte, had a stipend of sixpence a day. Alys Baker, a gentlewoman of her household, received £10 a year, and to Avis Wood, her laundress, was paid the sum of thirty-three shillings and four pence, as wages for six months.[15]

While still in her cradle, the Princess figured in a part she was often called upon to play afterwards. Henry’s sister, the Queen Dowager of France, being now married to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, gave birth to a daughter, and Katharine and Mary were the child’s godmothers. Dignity followed upon dignity, and before she was two years old Mary was an important factor in the treaty by which Henry VIII. ceded Tournay to the French for the sum of 600,000 crowns. The peace between France and England had been brought about partly through Wolsey’s increasing influence, partly (the Venetians flattered themselves mainly) through the tact and diplomacy of Giustinian, sent for that purpose back to England, and when a Dauphin was expected in 1518, Wolsey eagerly entered into negotiations with the French King, for the purpose of contracting a union between Henry’s only daughter and the hoped-for heir to the throne of France. Giustinian was, however, not so much in Wolsey’s confidence in this matter as might have been expected from the nature of his embassy to England, and some time after the birth of the Dauphin he wrote: “The French secretary has left, and is to be replaced by two great personages, to conclude, as it is said, a marriage between the Princess Mary and the Dauphin. The Cardinal will not admit this, but I am convinced of the truth of it.”

The secret soon oozed out, with the result that Mary was treated with even greater respect and ceremony than before, being regarded not only as heiress apparent to the throne of England, but as future Queen of France also. The Venetian envoys, in reporting to the Doge an interview which they had had with Henry and Wolsey, on the 28th February 1518, conclude their account of the audience in these words:—

“After this, the Princess Mary, who is two years old, was brought in. The Cardinal and Sebastiano kissed her hand pro more, the greatest marks of honour being paid to her universally, more than to the queen herself. The moment she cast her eyes on the Reverend Dionysius Memo, who was there at a little distance, she began calling out in English: ‘Priest, priest,’ and he was obliged to go and play for her, after which the King, with the Princess in his arms, came to me and said: ‘Per Deum iste est honestissimus vir et unus carissimus; nullus unquam servivit mihi fidelius et melius illo; scribatis Domino vestro quod habeat ipsum commendatum’.”[16]

Dionysius Memo was a musician, sent to Henry by the Doge as his chaplain and choir-master. Henry’s love of music, which Mary inherited, insured him a cordial welcome, and Memo took an important part at every state function. On the occasion of a banquet given by the king to the Austrian ambassador, to celebrate a league sworn between Henry and his nephew Charles in 1517, there were amusements of every kind, but especially instrumental music conducted by Memo, “which lasted for four consecutive hours to the so great admiration of all the audience, and with such marks of delight from his Majesty, as to defy exaggeration”. Five days later, a joust with costly decorations took place, followed by another banquet, at which no person was seated under the rank of a marquis. Giustinian is dazzled with the splendour of the repast, and the profusion of plate, the sideboard being covered with magnificent vessels, said to be all of gold. This was one of a series of revels and festivities, “but the chief dish” is always Memo’s music.[17]

On the 3rd October 1518, a general peace was proclaimed at St. Paul’s. Mass was said by Wolsey with unusual pomp, and the terms of the treaty between Henry and Francis were read before the high altar.

The King afterwards dined with the Bishop of London, going in the afternoon to Durham House in the Strand. “From thence,” says the Venetian ambassador, “the Cardinal of York was followed by the entire company to his own dwelling, where we sat down to a most sumptuous supper, the like of which, I fancy, was never given, either by Cleopatra or Caligula, the whole banqueting-hall being so decorated with huge vases of gold and silver, that I fancied myself in the tower of Chosroes, where that monarch caused divine honours to be paid him. After supper, a mummery consisting of twelve male and female maskers made an appearance, in the richest and most gorgeous array possible, all being dressed alike. When they had gone through certain original dances, they took off their masks. The two leaders of the dance were the King and the Queen Dowager of France. All the others were lords and ladies of the court. They seated themselves at separate tables, and were served with countless dishes of confections and other delicacies. When they had gratified their palates they regaled their eyes and hands, large bowls filled with ducats and dice being placed on the table for such as liked to gamble. Then, the supper tables being removed, dancing began and lasted till after midnight.”

On the 5th, the Princess Mary was formally betrothed to the Dauphin, in the Queen’s great chamber at Greenwich. Henry stood in front of the throne, having the Queen on his right, the Dowager Queen of France, his sister, on his left hand. In front of her mother stood the baby Princess, dressed in cloth of gold, a cap of black velvet covered with precious stones on her flaxen head. Facing the royal group were the two legates, Wolsey and Campeggio. Tunstal, Bishop of London, made an eloquent oration in praise of matrimony, “which being ended,” says Giustinian, “the most illustrious Princess was taken in arms, and the magnificos, the French ambassadors, having asked the consent of the King and Queen, on behalf of each of the contracting parties, and they having assented, the right reverend legate, the Cardinal of York, placed on her finger a small ring, juxta digitum puellÆ, but in which a large diamond was set, supposed to be a present from his right reverend lordship above mentioned; and my lord admiral passed it over the second joint. The bride was then blessed by the two right reverend legates, after a long exordium from the Cardinal of York, every possible ceremony being observed.” They then went to the royal chapel within the palace, where the King and Bonivet, the French ambassador, in the name of Francis I., exchanged oaths before the high altar, to observe faithfully the articles of the treaty. The proceedings ended with Mass, Wolsey being the officiating prelate. “The choir,” wrote the admiring Venetian, “was decorated with cloth of gold, and all the court in such rich array, the like of which I never saw, either here or elsewhere.”

On the 16th, the King at the head of his council promised publicly to fulfil the marriage contract when the Dauphin should have attained the age of fourteen, his daughter being sixteen years old, and he desired, if he failed in his promises that the Cardinal would excommunicate him, and pass sentence of interdict on his kingdom. Mary was to have a dowry of 100,000 marks, and Francis bound himself, under pain of the censures of the Church, to contribute one as large as any Queen of France ever had.[18]

At the French court, the betrothal was celebrated with no less elaborate ritual, in which cloth of gold and silver, jewels, music, flowers, feasting, compliments and promises played an important part. No one wore any material less costly than silk. All the English envoys had chains of gold about their necks, were attired in the most sumptuous fashion, were praised, banqueted and amused for a whole week, while the King showered gifts upon them. Never was marriage contract celebrated with greater solemnity. The expressions of friendship exchanged by the two Kings were profuse. Henry sent Francis the most flattering messages; Francis doffed his cap, and kissed Henry’s letters before opening them.

For a few months Henry seems to have considered himself bound by this contract, or at least, to have seen no reason for breaking it. He told Francis that if he should die without heirs male, he intended to leave the regency of England to him, as it would belong to the Princess Mary, who was to marry his son.[19]

One day, he showed Giustinian with much pride, his young daughter in her nurse’s arms. The Venetian knelt and kissed her hand, “for that,” said he, “is alone kissed by any duke or noble of the land, let his degree be what it may; nor does any one see her without doffing his bonnet, and making obeisance to her”. Henry then said: “Domine orator, per Deum immortalem ista puella nunquam plorat,” upon which Giustinian, with ready diplomacy, replied: “Sacred Majesty, the reason is that her destiny does not move her to tears; she will one day be Queen of France,” words which, he declared, “pleased the king vastly”.[20]

Nevertheless, as early as September 1519, steps were taken for adopting another line of policy altogether, and for transferring Mary’s hand to the Emperor, Charles V.

The news of the French alliance had greatly disturbed the Spanish Ministry, for the Emperor’s political complications were many. The King of France had become, through Charles’s successful candidature for the empire, his implacable enemy. War was unavoidable, for it behoved the emperor to secure his overgrown possessions, by every means in his power.

Even alone, Francis constituted a formidable danger, on account of his pretensions in Italy, but when allied to England, which, thanks to Wolsey’s foreign policy, was fast emerging from the condition of a third-rate power, he might threaten the dismemberment of the empire. Moreover, money would be urgently needed to carry on the war, when Francis should begin hostilities, and although Charles was already pledged to marry the Princess Charlotte of France, he was also negotiating a union with the daughter of the King of Portugal, by which he would receive 80,000 crowns as her dowry. For the sake of his empty coffers, he was prepared to sell himself to the highest bidder. He demanded a million ducats with the Princess Mary. Wolsey offered 80,000, with the understanding that the sums already advanced by Henry should be deducted therefrom, thus reducing the dowry to 50,000. Charles was careful not to commit himself. In a pecuniary sense, the Portuguese Princess was clearly the more desirable, but there remained the necessity of breaking the Anglo-French alliance. A see-saw policy was, therefore, his only alternative.

Meanwhile, Mary’s betrothal to the Dauphin was supposed to stand good, and Charles continued his negotiation with Portugal. Francis was well-informed by spies of all that went on, and Henry knew that he knew, but all parties thought well to dissemble. When rumour became too loud to be disregarded, and the fact of the correspondence between Henry and Charles leaked out, Henry affected indignation, and warmly protested his loyalty to the French treaty. Francis replied, with more politeness than truth, that the King of England need not have troubled himself to disprove the calumny, for he himself gave it no credence.[21]

In England, public opinion was in favour of the more brilliant marriage. The nation had never looked with cordiality on the prospect of a French union. Mary was the future sovereign of England; if she married the Dauphin, a French monarch would one day be seated on the English throne, an unpleasant humiliation for those who considered France the rightful appanage of English kings.

Katharine also naturally inclined to the Spanish match. Although she had thrown herself heart and soul into the habits, tastes and interests of her adopted country, she retained a deep love for all that was Spanish. She never forgot that she was the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and foreign ambassadors wishing to gain her favour would address her in the Spanish tongue. Nothing was nearer her heart than a marriage between her daughter and her nephew. In England, all were eager for the union, but Charles held back, delaying his promised visit to his relatives almost beyond the limits of courtesy. Henry was not a little embarrassed, for while the imperial machinery was being slowly put into motion, Francis, anxious to outwit his rival, had himself proposed a meeting for the ratification of the marriage treaty. Henry and Wolsey, on the horns of a dilemma, sought in vain to postpone the interview indefinitely. Francis was bent on it, and various dates having been objected to, in the hope that the project would be abandoned, the 31st of May was at last fixed for their meeting. Whether or no this action on the part of the French King had any effect on the Emperor’s policy, Charles at once made up his mind, and landed at Dover on the 26th. He was received by the Cardinal of York, and Henry, who had awaited his arrival at Canterbury, rode over to meet him. The next day being Whitsunday, he escorted him to the city of St. Thomas, “the more to solempne the Feast of Pentecost; but specially to see the Queen of England, his aunt, was the intent of the emperor”.[22]

What passed between these three royal personages and Wolsey did not transpire. A further loan may have been effected, but the public records are silent on the real object of the visit, and do not even state, whether the bridegroom in posse saw his proposed bride. On the 31st, he re-embarked at Sandwich, and the King and Queen, with Wolsey and a brilliant suite, crossed over to Calais. On landing, they immediately proceeded to Guisnes, and the same day, Francis arrived at Ardres, about six miles distant.[23]

Descriptions are not wanting of the empty splendours of Field of the Cloth of Gold. The world had never before witnessed such a scene, such fantastic devices, such jewels, such cordiality, such fraternal affection between two Kings. Had Henry and Francis been brothers, meeting after a long and painful separation, their joy at being reunited could not have been more expansive. They met in a summer palace of glass, hastily prepared for the occasion, but covered from roof to floor with white fluted satin, and relieved by rich hangings of cloth of gold, while pearls and precious stones of immense value were strewn with oriental prodigality in every direction. Exquisitely designed fountains ran wine all day, and feats of arms were followed by costly banquets, at which all the grace and beauty of the two courts were represented.

Religion and chivalry were still supposed to go hand in hand, and the magnificence of the King’s temporary palace was only equalled by the magnificence of his temporary chapel, where gorgeous functions took place, and sermons were preached, in pompous language, on the blessings of peace and amity between princes. The whole scene was a dazzling epitome of the Renaissance. The two Kings parted seemingly on the best of terms; Henry and Wolsey proceeded to Gravelines to meet the Emperor, and the three went together to Calais, to plot against the host, at whose hands Henry had just received such lavish hospitality.

Keen as was Francis’s eye to penetrate diplomatic mysteries, he does not seem on this occasion to have fathomed the depths of Henry’s capacity for intrigue, for he hovered about the frontier, vainly hoping to be invited to join the conference at Calais. Henry had solemnly declared to him that he entertained no purpose of espousing Mary to the Emperor, and had sworn eternal friendship with him as his ally and future son-in-law,[24] although the principal object of his pending conference with Charles, was to discuss the means of transferring his daughter’s hand from the Dauphin to the greatest enemy of France.

Meanwhile, the Princess Mary, the innocent object of these plots, was still happily unconscious of her value in the eyes of politicians. She remained at Richmond Palace during the absence of the court, and Henry was kept well informed of her health and occupations. The Duke of Norfolk wrote to him on the 13th June, that he and the other members of the Council were, “on Saturday last,” with the Princess, “who, lauded be Almighty God, is right merry, and in prosperous health and state, daily exercising herself in virtuous pastimes”.[25] “On St. Peter’s Even,” as the lords of the Council informed him, “came the three gentlemen of France, of whose arrival they had notice from the Cardinal, and on Saturday, after dinner, as the tide was commodious, they being well accompanied by the lord Barnes, lord Darcy, and another, visited the Princess, at Richmond. There were with her,” they continue, “divers lords spiritual and temporal, and in the Presence Chamber, besides the lady governess and her other gentlewomen, the Duchess of Norfolk,” etc. They go on to say that she “welcomed the French gentlemen with most goodly countenance, proper communication, and pleasant pastime in playing on the virginals; and they greatly marvelled and rejoiced at the same, her young and tender age considered”.[26]

When we consider that this “young and tender age” represented but four short years, we cannot but feel sorry for the small lady, obliged to entertain visitors with “proper communication,” instead of amusing herself with her “rosemary bushes with gold spangles,” her “gold pomanders,” and other sixteenth century toys, which were continually being brought to her as presents. The Princess’s Household Book for 1520 informs us that she regaled those “gentlemen from France” with “four gallons of Ypocras, with cherries, old apples, wafers, and strawberries, the cost of which amounted to thirty-five shillings and threepence”.

Tokens were constantly exchanged between the Dauphin and his fiancÉe. In January 1521, Sir Peter Carew was sent over to Paris, to condole with Francis I. on an accident he had met with, and to inquire after his health. He took with him some rubies as presents, and the French defrayed his expenses, and prepared “some scents and smocks” for him to take back with him, as presents to the Princess.[27] According to the existing arrangements, the Dauphin was to be sent over to England to be brought up in this country when he was a few years old; but long before the time specified, Mary had been solemnly affianced to the Emperor, although her marriage-contract with the Dauphin was never annulled.

Until Mary was twelve years old, her health and education were the subjects of Henry’s constant solicitude, and apart from the value he set upon her as an important item in his political schemes, he appears to have regarded her with affection, as long as there was room in his character for natural feeling, or any sentiment unconnected with his dominant passions. The care of her health necessitated her frequent removal from one royal residence to another, as a precaution against infectious disease, rendered necessary by the conditions of life in England during the first half of the sixteenth century. The well-known letter written by Erasmus to Wolsey’s physician, testifies to the perpetual recurrence of the plague in this country, which was to be attributed, the writer considered, mainly to the construction of the houses, full indeed of windows, but as these were not made to open, light was admitted into the dwellings, but no air. He complains of the chalk floors and of the rushes laid thereon, but so carelessly renewed, that the bottom layer often remained for twenty years, harbouring all sorts of offal.

Writing in 1527, Erasmus says that thirty years before, if he entered a room uninhabited for some months previously, he caught a fever. It would have been well if some of the money lavished on the adornment of the walls had been expended on the floors, especially as the habits of the sixteenth century left much to be desired in point of cleanliness. Some attention was, however, given to this matter in the royal palaces, but it was of a kind that involved the removal of the court, whenever a room was to be thoroughly overhauled; the result of disturbing rushes upon which dogs had been fed and kennelled for months, and every kind of refuse allowed to rot, may be better imagined than described. There is little cause for surprise, therefore, if we hear constantly of fevers, agues and of the sweating sickness, more deadly than the plague.

On one occasion, news was brought to the court that “one of my lady princess’s servants was sick of a hot ague” at Enfield, whereupon Henry ordered that Mary should be taken at once to Byssham Abbey, remain there one day, and arrive at the More the day following. Even when the servant recovered, Mary was not allowed to return to Enfield. In August 1520, we find that “my lady princess will be sent to Richmond again, on account of the reports of the sickness at Woodstock”.

The excellent Lady Bryan having ceased in 1521, to occupy the position of governess of Mary’s household, Secretary Pace wrote to Wolsey that as the King intended leaving Windsor shortly, and as he would have no convenient lodging for the Princess, he desired Wolsey to think of some lady fit to give attendance on her. The King thought that the old Lady Oxford would be suitable, if she could be persuaded, if not, Lady Calthorpe, and her husband to be chamberlain to the Princess. Accordingly, Lady Oxford was invited to occupy the vacant post.

Wolsey describes her as “right discreet, and of a good age, and near at hand,” and she could at least “be tried for a season, if she did not decline on the score of health”. Apparently she did decline, for instead of Lady Oxford, we find Sir Philip Calthorpe and his wife appointed to attend on the Princess, and govern her house, with a salary of £40 a year.[28]

On the 29th July 1521, a commission was appointed to conclude a treaty for Mary’s marriage with the Emperor for which a dispensation was to be obtained from the Pope on account of their near relationship. This treaty was concluded, signed and sealed on the 24th November of the same year, on which day also, Francis I., writing to his ambassador in London, remarks that the contract between the Princess of England and the Dauphin is to remain in its entirety,[29] a curious satire on the good faith of princes. Moreover, while Francis thus proclaimed the peace and amity supposed to exist between himself and Henry, Charles was stipulating with Henry for a descent to be made by the English on the shores of France, not later than March, 1522. A fleet was to be provided by both parties, each contributing 3,000 men. It would be possible to regard Francis with some pity, as a miserable dupe, were it not for his own propensity for the same amount of false swearing. By February, he was in possession of the facts, but for some reason or other, war was not declared till June. On the 6th May, Contarini, the Venetian envoy, was able to inform the Signory of Mary’s approaching betrothal to the Emperor, adding that Henry was about to send a gentleman to France, to repudiate the French treaty.

On the 27th, Charles landed at Dover, and was received on the sands by Wolsey, attended by 300 nobles, knights and gentlemen. Leaning on the Cardinal’s arm, the Emperor proceeded to Dover Castle, where he remained for two days, being joined by Henry. On the road to Canterbury, and thence to Greenwich, they were greeted by the people with every demonstration of joy, the English looking upon Charles as the monarch of the world, and feeling flattered by his condescension in wedding a daughter of England.[30] At the great gates of Greenwich Palace stood the Queen and her daughter Mary, now six years old, to welcome him. The Emperor dropped on one knee, and asked Katharine’s blessing, “having,” says the chronicler Hall, “great joy to see the queen, his aunt, and in especiall his young cousin germain, the lady Mary”.

All who saw Mary at this time spoke favourably of her appearance. “She promises,” said Martin de Salinas, “to become a handsome lady, although it is difficult to form an idea of her beauty, as she is still so small.” Others describe her as a fair child, with a profusion of flaxen ringlets, and the admiration of all.

The usual revels were held in honour of the Emperor’s visit. The court removed to London, and Charles was magnificently lodged at Blackfriars. But he seems to have regarded the prodigality displayed with Hapsburg seriousness, if not with absolute disapproval. He was urgently in need of money, and would doubtless have been better pleased with a fresh loan, than with all that was done in his honour. At all events, the sombre stateliness of Windsor was more in accordance with his taste and humour, and he was altogether in his native element when the terms of the treaty were at last discussed. These included: (1) a settlement of the differences between the Emperor and Francis; (2) a marriage contract between the Emperor and the Princess Mary; (3) a league between the Emperor and Henry for making war upon France, and for recovering the territory which the English had lost in that country. A clause was inserted, to the effect that Mary should be sent to Spain to finish her education, when she was twelve years old.[31] The treaty of Windsor was signed on the 19th June, but was not then published, and “peace with France was dissembled”. Other things were dissembled also; and, although Mary was brought to Windsor, to take leave of her imperial cousin as his future bride, Wolsey soon discovered that no reliance could be placed on the Emperor’s words or promises, and that, as far as Charles was concerned, the whole negotiation and the treaty of Windsor itself were nothing but a political fiction, in order to alarm Francis. But indeed, in a competition of duplicity between Charles, Henry, Francis and Wolsey, it would be rash to speculate as to which of them would have borne the palm. Wolsey played a particularly odious part, inasmuch as he not only convinced Francis that he was anxious for the French alliance, but he was moreover in receipt of a yearly pension from him. Meanwhile, the determination of the Princess Isabella of Portugal to marry Charles served to further complicate matters. She took for her motto the trenchant device, Aut CÆsar aut nihil,[32] and the grandees of Spain threw their weight into the scale with her, urging the Emperor to marry her, with whom he would receive a million of gold, and not the English Princess, “about whom he thought less than of the first named”.[33] Still Charles hesitated, or affected to hesitate, and writing to Wolsey from Valladolid, the 10th February 1523, he begs to have news of the King: “et de ma mieulx aimee fiancee la Princesse, future Imperatrix”.[34] But much as Henry held to the fulfilment of the contract, he had no longer any real hope of it, and began to look for other possible alliances. It was thought in France that the Dauphin would soon be crowned, and that then he would marry the English princess,[35] but Gonzolles, the French ambassador in Scotland, wrote to the Duke of Albany: “The King of England has promised to give his daughter in marriage to the King of Scots, with a large pension, and proclaim him prince of his kingdom if they can agree”.

Henry would nevertheless have much preferred giving her to the Emperor, if by any means Charles could be persuaded to keep to his engagements, and he sent Tunstal, Bishop of London, and Sir Richard Wingfield, as extraordinary ambassadors to Spain, with orders to promote the marriage in every possible way.

In April 1525, Mary sent Charles an emerald with a curious message, showing that she was still taught to consider herself his promised bride. “Her Grace,” so ran the letter which accompanied the gift, “hath devised this token, for a better knowledge to be had, when God shall send them grace to be together, whether his Majesty do keep himself as continent and chaste as with God’s grace she woll, whereby ye may say, his Majesty may see that her assured love towards the same hath already such operation in her, that it is also confirmed by jealousy, being one of the greatest signs and tokens of hearty love and cordial affection.”[36]

After the victory of Pavia, Charles, no longer in fear of Francis, declared openly that he owed nothing to the help of his allies, and released himself from his pledges to Henry by the very extravagance of his demands. He sent a commission to Wolsey requiring that Mary should be sent to Spain at once, with a dowry of 400,000 ducats, and 200,000 crowns besides, to defray the expenses of the war with France. Nothing was said about the sums he had borrowed from Henry, while the whole transaction was in direct violation of the terms of the treaty of Windsor. The Cardinal replied that the Princess was still too young to be given up, and that the Spaniards had no hostages to offer that could be sufficient security for her, whom the English people looked upon as the treasure of the kingdom. The envoys whom the Emperor sent in return, in paying their respects to the King and Queen, were permitted to address “a short peroration in Latin to the Princess, to which she replied in the same tongue, with as much assurance and facility as if she were twelve years old,” and she did and said, they added, “many other gracious things on the occasion, of which they purpose giving an account at a future time”.[37] But the moment for fair speeches and compliments had gone by. Charles demanded that Henry should either agree to his conditions, or release him from his oath, “for all Spain” compelled him “to contract a marriage with Portugal”. Henry told him roundly that he would give him his daughter when she was of proper age, but no increase of dowry.[38] “If,” continued the King of England, “he should seek a maistress for hyr, to frame hyr after the manner of Spayne, and of whom she might take example of virtue, he shulde not find in all Christendome a more mete than she now hath, that is the Quene’s grace, her mother, who is comen of the house of Spayne, and who for the affection she bereth the Emperour, will norishe and bring hyr up as maybe hereafter to his most contentacion.”[39]

At the same time Tunstal and Wingfield represented that, as the Princess was not much more than nine years old, it might greatly endanger her health to be transported into an air so different from that of England. In replying more particularly to the Emperor’s statement, that his subjects wished him to marry the Portuguese Princess, Mary being still of tender age, Henry, seeing that nothing was to be gained by a breach with his nephew-in-law, told him that the Princess his daughter was still young; she was his own treasure and that of his kingdom; she was not of age to be married;[40] that the demands of the Spanish people seemed reasonable, and that desiring always to preserve the Emperor’s friendship, he consented to the Portuguese alliance under three conditions. These were: (1) that peace should be made with France; (2) that the Emperor should pay his debts to Henry; (3) that the treaties of Windsor and London should be annulled.[41]

The treaty of Windsor was rescinded on the 6th July 1525, and on the 22nd was signed the marriage contract between Charles V. and Isabella of Portugal. But the Emperor did not pay his debts, and henceforth no Spaniard coveted the post of ambassador to the English Court. To console Henry for the failure of his schemes, Tunstal assured him that Mary was “a pearl well worth the keeping”.[42]

[1] According to some accounts the 18th.