by David Loades
The Prince’s reaction to this rejection is hard to gauge. Although he had written to her in December 1513 as ‘votre bon mari’, that appears to have been out of a sense of duty (or perhaps on instruction) rather than from any real conviction. Whereas Mary’s professions of affection for him were numerous, he is not known to have reciprocated. Ferdinand, similarly, although he professed himself in favour of the marriage was privately gratified because he did not want any move which would strengthen his grandson in his claim on Castile. He still had hopes of issue by Germaine de Foix. Maximilian was affronted, but he had only himself to blame, because he had blown hot and cold on the project, and was seeking delays right up to the last minute. The person who was most genuinely upset was Margaret of Savoy, who had worked tirelessly to bring the marriage about, seeing it as the surest way to cement an alliance between England and the Low Countries. However, Margaret was at odds with her Council over this issue, most of the latter favouring a settlement with France. Henry, got in first, and was self-righteous about his choice. He had been deceived by both Ferdinand and Maximilian, and felt perfectly entitled to take his revenge. He did not see, he told the Venetian ambassador, ‘any faith in the world save in me, and therefore God Almighty, who knows this, prospers my affairs.’ 57 He might also have added that he had found in Thomas Wolsey a diplomat whose skill and lack of scruple more than made up for his own innocence, but it was typical of him that he should reserve the credit for himself.
3
THE POLITICS OF MARRIAGE
On 9 January 1514 Anne of Brittany, the queen of Louis XII, died. In a very important sense she had failed in her royal duty, because she had borne him no son, but only two daughters, Claude and Renee, the former of whom was her heir in respect of the Duchy of Brittany. At that time the failure of male heirs was always deemed to be the fault of the woman, and deeply though Louis may have mourned her, he still believed himself capable of repairing that omission. St Thomas Aquinas had written:
As regards the individual nature, woman is defective and misbegotten, for the active force, the male seed, tends to the production of a perfect likeness in the masculine sex; while production of woman comes from defect in the active force … 1
In spite of his age (he was fifty-two) and uncertain health, he was therefore keen to marry again. Meanwhile, in order to secure the personal union of Brittany and France he married Claude to his prospective heir and kinsman, Francis of Angoulême, in a quiet ceremony at St Germain-en-Laye on 18 May. The twenty-year-old Francis, who was a notorious womaniser, was consoled for his sweet-natured but physically unattractive bride by being able to assume the title of Duke in the right of his wife. In June 1515 Claude made over her rights in Brittany to her husband, and he continued to administer the duchy after her death in 1524 in the name of their son Francis, who was a minor. It was not until August 1532, and with the consent of the estates, that he finally issued the decree which annexed the duchy in perpetuity to the Crown of France. 2 If Louis had succeeded in begetting a son in the winter of 1514/15, and the child had lived, Francis would therefore presumably have remained Duke of Brittany and the institutional union would never have taken place. Such is the importance of royal fertility in the politics of the renaissance.
Meanwhile the allied war effort had petered out. At the New Year of 1514 Henry was talking of his new campaign, preparing his navy and collecting munitions. Then, at the end of February, suspicious rumours began to emerge from both Spain and the Low Countries that both Ferdinand and Maximilian were thinking of opting out. A week or two later these fears were confirmed. Ferdinand had signed another truce with France, not only in his own name, but in those of the Emperor and the King of England also. 3 He justified this extraordinary action with a story about an elaborate conspiracy by the Pope and others to drive both him and Maximilian out of Italy, and alleged that the initiative had come from the Emperor. Maximilian would, he claimed, have consulted Henry as a matter of course before adding his name to the signatories. Only the Emperor had done no such thing, and the King was left bitterly chagrined by this act of betrayal. 4 For the time being, Henry continued to talk as though he intended to fight on. It would be, he alleged, ‘a very great dishonour’ to hold back because his allies had defected. Troops were mustered and warships put to sea. In June an English force ravaged the French coast near Cherbourg, in revenge for French attacks on Brighton earlier in the year, and as late as the beginning of August a league was entered into with the Swiss for putting an army into the field against France at English expense. 5 Yet there was an air of unreality about these warlike posturings, because at the end of January Gianpietro Caraffa had arrived as a papal nuncio in England in an endeavour to persuade Henry to make peace. His reception was at first ambivalent, but he was assisted in his efforts by the Duc de Longueville, who under the guise of negotiating his own ransom became an unofficial representative of the French King. He had been taken prisoner at the Battle of the Spurs but was always treated more as guest than a captive and was allowed a good deal of freedom. His efforts for peace were ably seconded by Fox and Wolsey, who, in spite of the strenuous opposition of some members of the Council, gradually persuaded the King of the validity of their point of view. 6 Wolsey was only slightly exaggerating when he claimed later, ‘I was the author of this peace.’
Having freed himself from the hostility of the Empire and Spain, Louis was anxious to bring the English conflict to an end, and was kept well informed of developments in London. In early April it was being reported in Paris that he had two aims in mind; the first was to seal peace with England by marrying the King’s sister and the second was to match his younger daughter, Renee, with Ferdinand, Maximilian’s ten-year-old grandson. 7 This appears to be the first mention of his sister in this context. The idea obviously appealed to Henry, who had become increasingly exasperated by the Emperor’s efforts to put off Mary’s union with Charles, and at the end of May Louis wrote to Henry as though the deal was done. On the 31st he thanked the King for agreeing to the match, expressing the pious hope that the union would be ‘of great benefit to Christendom’. 8 Leo X, anticipating success, had sent Henry his sword and cap of maintenance, which the latter received in a ceremony at St Paul’s on 21 May. Just before the treaty was signed, Leo sent word to Wolsey that he would like to be included, since the idea of marriage had been his in the first place. Presumably he had planted the suggestion in Louis’ mind, from whence it was communicated to Henry via Longueville. On 7 August what was clearly a long period of detailed bargaining was brought to an end, when the treaty of peace and friendship was signed, committing Mary to a marriage with Louis, and Louis to the payment of a million gold crowns at the rate of 50,000 a year. Her dowry was to be 200,000 crowns, which the King presumably intended to take from the 250,000 crowns which had been deposited at Bruges for just such a purpose. Tournai was to be retained by England, and Scotland was included in the treaty. Mary was to be delivered to Louis at Abbeville at her brother’s expense. 9 The treaty, which was not popular in England because of its implications for trade with the Low Countries, was proclaimed in London without any sign of celebration.
Margaret was mortified, and so was Charles, in spite of his share in the responsibility for what had happened. He taxed his councillors with having deprived him of a desirable bride, and their response was equally mortifying. They pointed out that the King of France was not only his elder, but was the most powerful king in Christendom; and since he was a widower, was entitled to pick the most eligible woman to be his queen. His response, according to a Venetian report, was to observe chillingly that they had plucked him because he was young, ‘but bear in mind for the future I shall pluck you’. 10 He was to be as good as his word. Henry, on the other hand, was delighted. He had secured peace with honour in the retention of Tournai, which had been one of his principal war aims, and in communicating the tidings formally to the Pope, expressed the hope that England and France together would be able to protect the interests of th
e Holy See in Italy. Mary, who by this time was nineteen, does not appear to have been consulted, or if she was, expressed no recorded opinion. The news can hardly have come as a surprise to her once she had repudiated her contract to the Archduke. She was in no position to bargain with her brother, and in any case the prospect of being Queen of France was irresistibly attractive. As Marino Sanuto later noted, ‘The queen does not mind that the king is a gouty old man … and she herself a young and beautiful damsel … so great is her satisfaction at being Queen of France …’ 11 She may already have realised that her tour of duty was not likely to be protracted. Meanwhile Louis was not disposed to wait; he issued his proxy to the Duke of Langueville on 8 August, and a week after the treaty was signed, on 13 August, the wedding took place per verba de praesenti at Greenwich. Henry and Catherine led the English delegation, which consisted of all the dignitaries of the realm as well as Mary and her ladies. The French were represented by Longueville, and by two of Louis’ ministers who had been sent over especially for the negotiations, John de Silva the President of Normandy and the soldier Thomas Boyer. Papal envoys were also present, but the Spanish and Imperial ambassadors absented themselves, as a gesture of disapproval. 12
Archbishop Warham presided, assisted by Wolsey as Bishop of Lincoln, and a number of other prelates, and he opened the proceedings with a Latin address on the sacredness of marriage – very similar to that which he had used at Mary’s previous proxy union in 1508. On this occasion de Silva replied in the same language, but confined himself to intimating his master’s intentions. Longueville’s authorisation was then read by the Bishop of Durham, and the proxy marriage followed, the Duke holding Mary by the right hand and speaking Louis’ vows in French. Mary duly responded, the ring was placed on her finger, and the ritual kiss given. It must have been uncomfortably reminiscent of her wedding to Charles, but nobody commented to that effect. What followed, however, was different, because once the ceremony was over Mary changed out of her bridal gear into a discreet nightdress and lay down on a bed which had been provided in an adjacent room. Longueville then bared one leg and lay down beside her for long enough to enable his leg to encounter her body, whereupon Warham, who together with others had witnessed this odd encounter, pronounced the marriage consummated. 13 What the lady may have thought of this play-acting is not recorded! When she was dressed again the whole company proceeded to High Mass, Longueville walking with Henry and Mary accompanied by Catherine. After mass, a banquet followed, with music and dancing which went on for about two hours, during which both the bride and her brother demonstrated their exceptional talents, to universal applause. Mary was showered with congratulations and wedding presents from all over Europe, the most splendid of which came from her husband. Two coffers of plate and jewels arrived under the conduct of the Sieur de Marigny. One of these jewels was a diamond ‘as large as a man’s finger’, with a pendant pearl ‘the size of a pigeons egg’, which was known as the Mirror of Naples and was valued at 60,000 crowns. Louis was nothing if not generous. 14 Part of Marigny’s brief was also to familiarise the new queen with the customs of the French court, and he brought with him an artist, one Jean Perreal, whose job it was to paint a portrait of Mary and to advise on the planning of her wardrobe. The news from France was that Louis longed for her coming, and that may well have been true, but his letters to her at this time are stilted and conventional, probably dictated to a secretary. In reply she was diplomatic and correct, but no warmer in tone. It was a political marriage in every sense of the term.
The one person who was unfeignedly pleased was Henry VIII, because it put him one step ahead of his former ally, Ferdinand. Having been betrayed three times by the King of Spain, Henry was thirsting for revenge, and this marriage gave him the opportunity. It was even rumoured at the end of August that he was planning to leave his present wife, on the grounds that she was his brother’s widow and consequently that he could have no children by her. 15 Nothing came of these rumours at this time, but relations between the royal couple were certainly chilled by his hostility to her father. Ferdinand was under no illusions as to what the Anglo-French entente might mean for him. Only Margaret of Savoy, preoccupied with her own concerns, thought that he might favour it as being a blow against the Emperor, with whom his relations were hostile. It was certainly unpopular in Flanders, and Sir Edward Poynings, writing to Wolsey from the Low Countries on 7 September, expressed concern about the security of Tournai because it depended for its supplies upon the goodwill of the local people. 16 Nothing, however, was permitted to disrupt the preparations for Mary’s departure. Oaths for maintaining the treaty of peace were exchanged on 14 September, and on the 23rd an embassy was instructed to escort the Queen as far as Abbeville, where she was scheduled to meet the King about the end of the month. The Duke of Norfolk headed this mission, and he was accompanied by several of the Lords of the Council, including the Marquis of Dorset and the Earl of Worcester. The only slight shadow cast on these proceedings was the prudent English insistence that if Mary outlived her husband and returned to England, then the cost of her journey to Abbeville was to be refunded and her personal possessions returned. 17 On the French side her jointure was generous, equal in income to that received by Anne of Brittany, amounting to some 300,000 crowns, and a second proxy ceremony was held. This took place in the church of the Celestine Order in Paris on 14 September, when the Queen was represented by the Earl of Worcester, only the gesture of consummation being omitted! The following day Louis bound himself to the payment of the million crowns provided in the treaty, under penalty of excommunication for default. 18 Bearing in mind the promises which had been made and broken in the past, Henry and Wolsey now felt that they had every cause for satisfaction.
Mary’s own preparations had been equally thorough. In addition to being a guest at many entertainments and celebrations in her honour, she had put together a personal wardrobe which cost her brother about £43,000, much of it in the French fashion, thanks perhaps to Perreal’s advice. Liveries for her servants, the trappings of her chapel, and the possession of Great and Privy Seals all proclaimed her royal status. 19 On 22 September Louis left Paris to journey to Abbeville for their meeting, and on the 28th a tournament was held in her honour, but still she did not come. This was partly due to the foul weather, which all the glitter of her cavalcade could not alter. She left London on the 29th, accompanied by the King and Queen and, according to Lorenzo Pasqualigo, four earls, 400 knights and barons, and all their ladies travelling in great wagons. In spite of the weather the Queen of France looked quite ravishing; her equal ‘was not to be found in England’ in the words of the enthusiastic Venetian. 20 Meanwhile the storms made assembling the fleet which was to accompany her exceptionally hazardous, and one ship, the Great Elizabeth , a 900-ton hulk which the King had recently purchased from Lubeck, was wrecked near Sandgate with heavy loss of life. Nevertheless a fleet of fourteen ‘great ships’ was assembled at Dover to escort her crossing, and on 2 October a lull in the gales persuaded the King that it was safe for them to set off. They bade farewell to Catherine at the Castle, and Henry walked with his sister down to the waterside. It was at this point, as she later reminded him, that the King had promised to let her chose her second husband for herself if, as they both suspected, Louis might not last very long. 21 Meanwhile, having embarked, the journey proved exceptionally hazardous because they were caught in mid-Channel by a fresh storm which scattered the convoy, dispersing its ships along the coast from Calais to Ostend. Only four, including the one in which the bride was travelling, succeeded in making it to the official destination, which was Boulogne. However, having gained the harbour, the Master was unable to dock her, and instead ran her aground, leaving his seasick passenger to be conveyed ashore in a rowing boat. Eventually Mary was carried through the breakers by Sir Christopher Garnish, a knight of her household, and arrived drenched and wretched at the dock where a royal reception awaited her. 22 It is to be hoped that the Duke of Vendome and the Cardi
nal d’Amboise were sufficiently sympathetic to her wretched plight. The ceremonies were at all events cut short so that she was able to change into dry clothes. Gradually, over the next few days, the scattered ships arrived, and her wardrobe could be reassembled. It transpired that only a minimum of plate and property had been lost in the wreck of the Elizabeth , and the main damage inflicted by the storm was psychological. For a day or two it wrecked Mary’s self-confidence, and was later recalled by the superstitious as being an ill omen for the marriage, which lasted barely three months. On Thursday 5 October she reached Montreuil, 24 miles from Boulogne, where she was able to spend a couple of days recuperating at the hospitable home of Madame de Moncaverel. On the 7th she was able to set out, with dignity restored, on the 25-mile journey to Abbeville, where her destiny in the shape of Louis XII awaited her with what patience he could muster. 23