“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]