Another of Christina's servants, Gian Battista Ferrari, paid a visit to England this summer, and brought back glowing accounts of the beauties of London and the splendours of King Henry's Court. He had an Italian friend named Panizone, who was one of the royal equerries, and had been sent over to England with some Barbary horses from the Gonzaga stables. Panizone introduced him to Cromwell, who entertained him hospitably, and sent him back to tell his mistress all that he had seen and done at the Court of Whitehall. Christina was exceedingly curious to hear Battista's account of his visit, and was surprised when he told her that England was as beautiful as Italy. When she proceeded to inquire if he had seen the King, Battista replied that he had been fortunate enough to be received by His Majesty, and broke into ecstatic praises of Henry's comeliness, gracious manners, and liberality. The Duchess said that she had often heard praises of His Grace, and was glad to know from Battista's lips that they were true. After supper she sent for him again, and he informed her that Chapuys had told him the marriage would shortly be concluded. "At this it seemeth she did much rejoice." So at least Battista assured Hutton.[200] Ferrari himself was evidently very anxious to see his mistress Queen of England, and in a letter which he addressed on the 7th of September to his friend, "Guglielmo Panizone scudier del Invictissimo Rè d' Inghilterrà a Londra, alla Corte di sua Maestà," he wrote, "Madama the Duchess, my mistress, loves the King truly," and proceeded to send commendations to the Lord Privy Seal, Signor Filippo (Hoby), Portinari, and others. This letter contained one sad piece of news. "The Ambassador here is said to be dying; I am grieved because of the friendship between us and his excellent qualities. The next one we have will, I hope, be yourself."[201] Battista's news was true. Honest John Hutton, the popular Governor of the Merchant Adventurers, fell ill at Antwerp, and died there on the 5th of September. His genial nature had made him a general favourite, and he was lamented by everyone at Court. "It is a great loss," wrote Don Diego to Cromwell, "because he was so good a servant and so merry and honest a soul." To his own master, the Emperor, he remarked that the English Ambassador who had just died was a jovial, good-natured man, but more fit for courtly functions and social intercourse than grave political business, for which he had neither taste nor capacity.[202]

IV.

The meeting of the Emperor and King of France at Aigues-Mortes in July, 1538, produced a marked change in the political situation. This interview, which the Pope had failed to bring about at Nice, was finally effected by Queen Eleanor, and the two monarchs, who had not met since Francis was a prisoner at Madrid, embraced each other, dined together, and ended by swearing an inviolable friendship. The truce was converted into a lasting peace, and several marriages between the two families were discussed in a friendly and informal manner.

This unexpected reconciliation was a bitter pill to Henry and Cromwell. The French and Imperial Ambassadors at Whitehall exchanged the warmest congratulations, and did not fail to indulge in a hearty laugh at King Henry's expense. On the 21st of August Chapuys and Don Diego followed the Court to Ampthill, where the King was hunting, and were entertained by Cromwell at one of his own manors. As they sat down to dinner, the Lord Privy Seal asked brusquely if it were true that the King and Emperor had made peace, to which the Ambassadors replied in the affirmative. He then proceeded to start a variety of disagreeable topics. First he remarked that he heard the Turk was already in Belgrade; next he said that the young Duke of Cleves had taken possession of Guelderland, upon which Chapuys retaliated by expatiating on the perfect friendship and understanding between Charles and Francis. After dinner they were admitted into the King's presence, and informed him that the Queen of Hungary had received the powers necessary for the conclusion of the Duchess's marriage, and wished to recall Don Diego in order that he might draw up the contract. Henry expressed great sorrow at parting from the Spaniard, and, drawing him apart, begged him to induce the Queen to treat directly with him, repeating two or three times that he was growing old, and could not put off taking a wife any longer. Meanwhile Cromwell was telling Chapuys, in another corner of the hall, how much annoyed the King had been to hear that the Emperor was treating of his niece's marriage with the Duke of Cleves, which would make people say either that she had refused the King or else had only accepted Henry after refusing Cleves. Chapuys stoutly denied the truth of this report, and Cromwell confessed that the King was very eager for the marriage, and, if there were any difficulty about the Duchess's dowry, he would gladly give her 20,000 crowns out of his own purse.[204]

As the Ambassadors were putting on their riding-boots, Cromwell ran after Don Diego with a present from his master of £400, after which they returned to London and dined in Chelsea with Castillon, to meet Madame de Montreuil, the lady-in-waiting of the late Queen Madeleine of Scotland, who was returning to France. They all spent a merry evening, laughing over King Henry's matrimonial plans, and Castillon declared that the King and Lord Privy Seal were so much perturbed at his master's alliance with the Emperor that they hardly knew if they were in heaven or on earth.[205]

Don Diego arrived in Flanders to find general rejoicings—"gun-shots and melody and jousting were the order of the day"—and an English merchant declared that the proud Spaniards were ready to challenge all the world. Queen Mary marked the occasion by honouring her favourite, Count Henry of Nassau, with a visit at his Castle of Breda in Holland. The beautiful gardens and vast orchards planted in squares, after the fashion of Italy, which excited the Cardinal of Aragon's admiration, were in their summer beauty, and a series of magnificent fêtes were given in honour of the Queen and her companion, the Duchess of Milan. The Count was assisted in doing the honours by his third wife, the Marchioness of Zeneta, a rich Spanish heiress, whom the Emperor had given him in marriage, and his son René, Prince of Orange. The presence of Christina at Breda on this occasion, and the attentions that were paid her by her hosts, naturally gave rise to a report that she was about to wed the Prince, and Cromwell told Don Diego before he left Dover that this rumour had caused the King great annoyance.[206] But the festivities at Breda met with a tragic close. On the day after the royal ladies left the castle, Henry of Nassau died very suddenly, and Don Diego heard the sad news when he reached the castle gates, on his way to salute his kinswoman, the Marchioness.

The Ambassador now hastened to Court, and craved an audience of the Queen to deliver King Henry's letters; but he found her little inclined to attend to business, and engaged in preparations to pay a visit to King Francis, who had gallantly invited her to a hunting-party at Compiègne. At first there had been some doubt if the Duchess should be of the party, but Queen Eleanor was eager to see her niece, and Christina was nothing loth to take part in these brilliant festivities. Meanwhile Henry's renewed impatience to conclude his marriage was shown by the promptitude with which another Ambassador was sent to take Hutton's place.

On the 27th of September the new Envoy, Stephen Vaughan, was admitted into the Queen's presence, and begged for an answer to the letters delivered by Don Diego. Mary told him that he might inform His Majesty that there was no truth in the reports of her niece's marriage, and that, if any coolness had arisen between them, it was the King's own fault for seeking a wife in other places. Hoby's mission to Joinville and Nancy was, it is plain, well known at Brussels. But the Queen kept her counsel, and told Vaughan that, if his master was still in the same mind, she would urge the Emperor to hasten the conclusion of the treaty. Only she must beg the Ambassador to have a little patience, as her time was fully occupied at this moment. But the next day he was again put off, and told the Queen would see him when she reached Mons. Accordingly, Vaughan and his colleague, Thomas Wriothesley, Cromwell's confidential secretary, arrived at this town on the 8th, only to be told by Don Diego that they must await the Queen's pleasure at Valenciennes. The Spanish Ambassador did his best to atone for their disappointment by giving them an excellent dinner, and lending them two of his own horses with velvet saddles and rich trappings for the journey.[207]

At length, at eight on Sunday morning, the 6th of October, they were conducted into the Queen's presence by the Grand Falconer, Molembais, and Vaughan, who spoke French fluently, explained Henry's reasons for arranging the marriage treaty without delay. Mary replied briefly that she had already written to accede to the King's request, and that no further steps could be taken until after her meeting with the French King. Dinner was being served while she spoke these words, and, as the meat was actually coming in, the Ambassadors were compelled to retire. Before they left the room, however, they saluted the Duchess, who was standing near her aunt, and ventured to tell her how much my Lord Privy Seal remained her humble servant, although, as she no doubt knew, his overtures had been so coldly received. Christina smiled and thanked them for their good-will with a gentle grace, which went far to mollify their ruffled feelings, and made Wriothesley write home that all Hutton had said of the Duchess's charms was true. "She is as goodly personage, of stature higher than either of us, and hath a very good woman's face, competently fair and well favoured, but a little brown."[208]

As if to make amends for these delays, the great lords in attendance overwhelmed the Ambassadors with civilities. Aerschot invited them to dinner; Count Büren embraced them warmly and asked affectionately after the King; De Praet, Molembais, and Iselstein, escorted them to the door, and Don Diego made them a present of wine. When Wriothesley fell ill of fever at Cambray, the Queen sent her own physician to attend him, and begged him either to remain there or return to Brussels. This he refused to do, and travelled on by slow stages to Compiègne, hoping to obtain another audience there. But the roads were bad, and two leagues from Cambray one of the carts broke down, leaving the English without household stuff or plate when Don Diego came to supper.[209]

On Tuesday news reached Cambray that King Francis was on his way to salute the Queen, and Mary rode out to meet him, leaving the Duchess of Milan at home with others, who like herself, remarks Wriothesley, had no great liking for Frenchmen.[210] But the King's greeting was most cordial, and when, on the following day, Queen Eleanor arrived with a great train of lords and ladies, there was much feasting and merriment, until on the 10th the whole party started for Compiègne.

It was a brilliant company that met in the ancient castle of the French Kings, in the forest on the banks of the Oise, near the bridge where, a hundred years before, Jeanne d'Arc had made her last heroic stand. King Francis had summoned all the Princes and Princesses of the blood to do honour to the Queen of Hungary, and the neighbouring villages were filled to overflowing with Court officials and servants. There was the King himself, a fine figure in cloth of gold and nodding plumes, gallant as ever in spite of ill-health and advancing years, with a glance and smile to spare for every fair lady; and there was his consort, Queen Eleanor, too often neglected by her fickle lord, but now radiant with happiness, and in her beautiful robes and priceless pearls, as winning and almost as fair as when she fascinated the young Palatine twenty years ago. The sense of family affection was as strong in Eleanor as in all the Habsburgs, and she was overjoyed to meet her sister and embrace the daughter of the beloved and lamented Isabella. With her came the King's daughter Margaret, the homely-featured but pleasing and accomplished Princess for whom a royal husband was still to be found, and who, the courtiers whispered, might now wed the Prince of Spain.

Her brothers were there too—the dull and morose Henry, who had succeeded his elder brother as Dauphin two years before, but had never recovered from the effects of his long captivity in Spain; and the more lively but weak and vicious Charles of Angoulême, now Duke of Orleans, whom Eleanor was so anxious to see married to the Duchess of Milan. With them was the Dauphin's Italian wife, Catherine de' Medici, whose wit and grace atoned in her father-in-law's eyes for her lack of beauty, although her husband's heart was given to Diane de Poitiers, and a childless marriage made her unpopular in the eyes of the nation. But a galaxy of fair ladies surrounded the King and Queen. Chief among them was Madame d'Étampes, whose dazzling charms had captivated the fickle King, and who now reigned supreme both in Court and Council. Of the youthful ladies whose charms had aroused King Henry's interest, only Mademoiselle de Vendôme was here. The fair Louise had not yet recovered from her illness, and the Duchess of Guise was nursing her at Joinville. But both her father, Claude of Guise, the Governor of Burgundy, and his brother, the Cardinal of Lorraine, were present, and held a high place in the King's favour. Claude's elder brother, the Duke of Lorraine, had lately been to meet the Emperor at Aigues-Mortes and plead his claims to Guelders, but on his return he fell ill with a severe attack of gout, and was unable to obey the King's summons. In his stead he sent Duchess Renée his wife, another Bourbon Princess, a daughter of Gilbert de Montpensier and sister of the famous Constable. Her daughter Anne remained at home to nurse the Duke, but her eldest son, Francis, came with his mother to Compiègne. This cultured and polished Prince, who bore the King's name, had been brought up at the French Court, and could ride and joust as well as any of his peers; but he was quite thrown into the shade by his cousin, Antoine de Bourbon, Duke of Vendôme, the darling of the people and the idol of all the ladies. A head and shoulders taller than the Dauphin and his brother, Antoine was the cynosure of all eyes at Court festivals. The elegance of his attire, the inimitable grace with which he raised his hat, his wit and gaiety, fascinated every woman, while the gilded youth of the day copied the fashion of his clothes and the precise angle at which he wore the feather in his cap. Frivolous, volatile, and recklessly extravagant, Vendôme wore his heart on his sleeve, and was ready to enter the lists for the sake of any fair lady. He fell desperately in love with the Duchess of Milan at first sight, and devoted himself to her service. As premier Prince of the blood, he rode at Christina's side, and led her out to dance in the eyes of the Court. Together they joined in the hunting-parties that were organized on a vast scale in the Forest of Compiègne, and while all the French were lost in admiration at the fine horsemanship of the royal ladies, Antoine de Bourbon threw himself at the Duchess's feet, and declared himself her slave for life. But whether this gay cavalier was too wild and thoughtless for her taste, or whether her heart was already given to another, Christina paid little heed to this new suitor, and remained cold to his impassioned appeals. "The Duke of Vendôme," wrote Wriothesley to Cromwell, "is a great wooer to the Duchess, but we cannot hear that he receiveth much comfort."[211]

On the 17th of October the Constable de Montmorency prevailed on the royal party to accompany him to his sumptuous home at Chantilly, nine leagues farther on the road to Paris. This brave soldier and able Minister had grown up in the closest intimacy with the Royal Family, and was habitually addressed as "bon père" by the King's children, but had, unfortunately, excited the hatred of the reigning favourite, the Duchess of Étampes, who called him openly "un grand coquin," and declared that he tried to make himself a second monarch. On the other hand, his constant loyalty to Queen Eleanor gratified Mary of Hungary, who now gladly accepted his invitation to Chantilly.

Anne de Montmorency was as great a patron of art as his royal master, and during the last fifteen years he had transformed his ancestral home into a superb Renaissance palace. The halls were decorated with frescoes by Primaticcio; the gardens were adorned with precious marbles and bronzes, with busts of the Cæsars and statues of Mars and Hercules, with fountains of the finest Urbino and Palissy ware. Portraits by Clouet, priceless manuscripts illuminated by French and Burgundian masters, and enamels by Léonard Limousin, were to be seen in the galleries. But what interested Mary and Christina most of all were the tapestries woven at Brussels from Raphael of Urbino's cartoons, which the Constable had rescued after the sack of Rome, and which he restored some years later to Pope Julius III.[212]

After entertaining his guests magnificently during two days, the Constable accompanied them on a hunting-party in the forest, and finally brought them back to Compiègne on the 19th of October. Here the Queen of Hungary's return was impatiently awaited by the English Ambassadors, who found themselves in a miserable plight. The town was so crowded that they had to be content with the meanest lodgings; the hire of post-horses cost forty pounds, and provisions were so scarce that a partridge or woodcock sold for tenpence, and an orange for more than a groat. The King's Ambassadors at the French Court—Sir Anthony Browne, and Bonner, the Bishop-elect of Hereford—who joined them at Compiègne on the 14th, were in still worse case; for they could get no horses for love or money, and spent six days without receiving a visit from the Court officials. These outraged personages stood at the window, and saw the French Councillors, and even the Constable, go by, without giving them the smallest sign of recognition. At least, Vaughan and Wriothesley were treated with the utmost civility by the Flemish nobles, and their audience was only deferred on account of the Queen's visit to Chantilly. Don Diego was courtesy itself, and, before he started for Spain, wrote a letter to Cromwell, assuring him that Queen Mary was the truest friend and sister his master could have, but that it had been impossible for her to attend to business when her days were spent in festivities and family meetings.[213] At length, on Sunday, the 20th, the Ambassadors were received by the Queen, and introduced Browne and Bonner, as well as Dr. Edward Carne, a learned lawyer whom Henry had sent to assist in drawing up the marriage treaty. Mary informed them that Francis was bent on taking her to the Duke of Vendôme's house at La Fère on the way home, but begged Wriothesley, who was still unwell, to go straight to Brussels. The next day Browne started for England, saying that it was impossible to follow a King who "goes out of all highways," and on the 22nd Wriothesley and his companions set out on their return to Brussels.[214]

V.

By the end of October the English Envoys were back at Brussels, rejoicing to be once more in comfortable quarters. Here they found great fear and distrust of France prevailing, and much alarm was expressed lest the Queen should have been induced to give the Duchess of Milan in marriage to a French Prince. This, however, was not the case, and the English Ambassadors were satisfied that beyond feasting and merrymaking nothing had been done. A friendly gentleman, Monsieur de Brederode, told them that there had been some attempt at marriage-making among the women. Queen Eleanor still pressed her sister earnestly to further the marriage of Christina with the Duke of Orleans, as the best way of insuring a lasting peace, and had revived her old dream of marrying her daughter, Maria of Portugal, to the Prince of Spain. But Mary turned a deaf ear to all these proposals, saying that she could not consider them without Charles's approval. At La Fère, in the valley of the Oise, Francis entertained his guests at a splendid banquet, after which he presented Mary with a very fine diamond, and Christina with a beautiful jewel, besides lavishing rings, bracelets, brooches, caps, and pretty trinkets from Paris and Milan, Lisbon and Nuremberg, on the ladies of their suite. Here he took leave of his guests, but the Duke of Vendôme insisted on escorting the Queen and her niece as far as Valenciennes.[215]

On Monday, the 4th of November, Mary and Christina reached Brussels, and were received with warm demonstrations of affection. Now, "after all these gay and glorious words," the English Ambassadors confidently hoped to see some end to their toil. But they soon realized that their hopes were doomed to disappointment. First the Queen was too tired to receive them; then nothing could be done until the return of the Duke of Aerschot, who was her chief adviser. At length, on the 16th, the first conference took place at the Duke's house. The Captain of the Archers, Christina's old friend De Courrières, conducted the Ambassadors to the room where the Commissioners were awaiting them—Aerschot, Hoogstraaten, Lalaing, and the Chancellor of Brabant, Dr. Schoren, "a very wise father." After a lengthy preamble, setting forth the powers committed to the Regent, the terms of the contract were discussed. The chief points on which Wriothesley insisted were that Henry should be allowed to see his bride, that the payment of her dowry should be assigned to Flanders instead of Milan, and that Christina's title to Denmark should be recognized, although, remarked the Ambassador, "for my little wit I care not if this last condition were scraped out of the book."[216] The Duchess's claim to the throne of Denmark, as Wriothesley realized, was so remote that it seemed hardly worth discussing. The dowry and the question of the Papal dispensation were the two real stumbling-blocks, and he advised Cromwell, if the King was really anxious to secure this desirable wife, not to press the former point, money being so scarce in Spain and the Netherlands that the Emperor would rather leave his niece unwed, than part with so large a sum. At the close of the sitting the Duke of Aerschot begged Wriothesley to stay to dinner, and gave him the chief place at table and pre-eminence in all things. The fare was abundant; four courses of ten dishes were served in silver, with "covers of a marvellous clean and honourable sort," and carvers and waiters stood around, and attended as diligently to the Ambassador's wants as if he were a Prince. Later in the evening the Duke's brother-in-law, the Marquis of Berghen, who was always well disposed to the English, came to supper, and chatted pleasantly for some time, but shocked Wriothesley by asking him if it were true that all religion was extinct in England, that Mass was abolished, and that the bones of saints were publicly burned. Cromwell's Commissioner, who had himself plundered the shrines of St. Swithun at Winchester and of St. Thomas at Canterbury, could hardly deny this latter charge, although he declared stoutly that only such money-making devices and tricks of the friars as the Rood of Boxley and the tomb of Becket had been unmasked. But, in spite of the outward civility with which the Ambassador was treated, he realized that all good Catholics in Flanders looked on him with horror and disgust.

All through the summer abbeys and shrines had been going down fast. "Dagon is everywhere falling," wrote a Kentish fanatic, and, as Castillon said, by the end of the year hardly a single abbey was left standing. The recent trend of political events had served to excite the King's worst passions, and when the French Ambassador went to see him early in November, he found him in a towering rage. The French had treated his Ambassadors abominably; the Emperor and King were plotting together to take the Duchess of Milan away from him and give her to Monsieur de Vendôme, which, "if it be done, would finish the picture."[217] Late on this same evening, Lord Exeter, a grandson of Edward IV. and head of the noble house of Courtenay, and his cousin, Lord Montague, the son of Lady Salisbury and brother of Cardinal Pole, were thrown into the Tower on the charge of high-treason. All that the most prolonged cross-examination of their servants and friends could bring out to prove their guilt, was that in my Lord of Exeter's garden at Horsley Place, in Surrey, Sir Edward Nevill had been heard singing merry songs against the knaves that ruled about the King, and, clenching his fist, had cried: "I trust to give them a buffet and see honest men reign in England one day." But the King had long ago told the French Ambassador that he was determined to exterminate the White Rose, and, as Castillon remarked, no pretext was too flimsy to bring men to the block. On the 9th of December, Exeter, Montague, and Nevill, all died on the scaffold, and Castillon wrote to King Francis: "No one knows who will be the next to go." Terror reigned throughout the land, and no one of noble birth was safe.[218] Mary of Hungary might well shudder at the thought of giving her niece to such a man. But every day her position became more difficult. Soon after her return from Compiègne she wrote to Charles, urgently begging for instructions as to how she was to proceed with the English Ambassadors. If the King persists in treating of the Duchess's marriage, is she to consent or to refuse altogether? And if so, on what pretext? Is she to discuss the question of the Papal dispensation, which Henry will never consent to receive from the Pope, but without which the Emperor cannot possibly allow the union.[219] In reply to this letter, Charles wrote from Toledo, on the 5th of December, telling her to temporize with the English, and to consult her Council on the best method of procedure.[220]

A carefully-worded paper, in Mary's own handwriting, setting forth the results of the deliberation with the Council in clear and concise language, was forwarded to the Emperor early in January:

But no reply to this appeal came for many weeks. In vain Mary implored Charles to put an end to this interminable procrastination, and relieve her from the necessity of dissembling with the English Ambassadors, who never left her in peace.

Still no answer came from Spain, and the solemn farce was prolonged. During the next two months frequent meetings between the Commissioners were held at Brussels, and the Queen herself was often present. "Indeed," wrote Wriothesley, "she is one and principal in it, and how unmeet we be to match with her ourselves do well acknowledge."[223] But little progress was made, although Henry, in his anxiety for the marriage, offered to give the Duchess as large a dowry as any Queen of England had ever enjoyed. On St. Thomas's Day he informed the French Ambassador in the gallery at Whitehall that his marriage was almost concluded.

But two days after this interview Henry addressed a pathetic appeal to the Regent on his behalf, saying that "old age was fast creeping on, and time was slipping and flying marvellously away." Already the whole year had been wasted in vain parleyings, and, since neither money nor prayers could redeem this precious time, he could wait the Emperor's pleasure no longer, but must seek another bride. If this appeal produced no effect, he told Wriothesley to take leave of the Duchess, and declare to her the great affection which the King bore her, and how earnestly he had desired to make her his wife, but, since this was plainly impossible, he must "beg her not to marvel if he joined with another."[225] When this letter reached Brussels, Mary and Christina were absent on a hunting expedition, but on New Year's Eve they returned. The Queen received Wriothesley the next morning, and, after listening patiently to the long discourse in which he delivered his master's message, said that she was still awaiting the Emperor's final instructions, remarking that perhaps the King hardly realized the distance between Spain and Flanders. There was nothing for it but to await the coming of the courier from Spain. But even Wriothesley began to realize that, "for all this gentle entertainment and fair words and feastings," the deputies meant to effect nothing.

Like Hutton, the Ambassador felt the spell of Christina's charms, and certain expressions which her servants Benedetto and Ferrari had dropped, led him to suppose that the Duchess was favourably inclined towards his master. But he was convinced that attempts had been made to poison her mind against the King, and to prefer the suit of William of Cleves or of Francis of Lorraine, who was also said to be seeking her hand.

VI.

At length the eagerly-expected courier reached Brussels, but, as usual, the Queen and Duchess were away hunting, and it was only on the 1st of February that the Ambassadors obtained their desired audience. Mary received them in her bedroom between seven and eight in the morning, and told them that the Emperor had decided to await the arrival of the Count Palatine, who with his wife, the Duchess's elder sister, was shortly expected at Toledo, in order that he might discuss the subject fully with them; but, since she knew Henry to be impatient for an answer, she had despatched a trusty messenger, Cornelius Scepperus, to Spain to beg her brother for an immediate decision.[227]

Wriothesley now ventured on a bold step. As the Queen rose to leave the room, he begged, in order to satisfy his own peace of mind, to be allowed to ask her one question, hoping that she would give him a frank answer. At these words Mary blushed deeply, conscious of the double part that she was playing, and bade him speak, assuring him that she would take whatever he said in good part. "Madame," returned Wriothesley, "I beseech Your Grace to tell me plainly how you find the Duchess herself affected towards this marriage with the King my master." If, as was commonly reported, the Duchess had really said that she minded not to fix her heart that way, all his efforts were but lost labour. And he made bold to ask this question because he knew that of late "divers malicious tongues, servants of the Bishop of Rome, had dared to speak lewdly in hugger-mugger of the King's Majesty." The question was an awkward one, but Mary proved equal to the occasion. She thanked the Ambassador for his frankness, and replied with some warmth that she was quite sure her niece had never spoken such words, and that, if evil men spoke lewdly of the King, she would know how to deal with them. "Touching my niece's affection," she added, "I dare say unto you, that if the Emperor and your master the King agree upon this marriage, she will be at the Emperor's command."

Wriothesley could only express his gratitude for this gracious answer, even if it were not so plain as he could have wished. Seeing that nothing else would satisfy him, the Queen referred him to the Duchess herself, and at two o'clock the same afternoon the Ambassador was conducted to Christina's lodgings. He found her standing under a canopy in a hall hung with black velvet and damask, with five or six ladies near her, and a dozen gentlemen and pages at the other end of the room. Christina received him with a graceful salute, bade him heartily welcome, and asked the purpose of his errand. Wriothesley proceeded to explain the object of his visit at great length, saying that he was quite sure that a lady of her gravity and discretion would never allow such unseemly words to pass her lips; yet, since untrue and wicked reports might have reached her ears and cooled her inclination towards the King, he felt it would be his bounden duty, were this true, to inform His Majesty, in order that he might withdraw his suit without further waste of time and dishonour.

Christina listened to this long harangue without moving a muscle. When the Ambassador had ended, she desired him to put on his cap, saying it was a cold day, and that she regretted not to have noticed that he was uncovered before. Wriothesley replied that this was his duty, and that he hoped often to have the honour of talking with her bareheaded in the future. Without paying any heed to this last remark, Christina replied in the following words:

"Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, I do heartily thank you for your good opinion of me, wherein I can assure you, you have not been deceived. I thank God He hath given me a better stay of myself, than to be of so light a sort as, by all likelihood, some men would note me. And I assure you that neither these words that you have spoken, nor any like to them, have passed at any time from my mouth, and so I pray you report for me."

But grateful as Wriothesley expressed himself for this frank answer, he was not yet satisfied. "It is an evil wind, as we say in England, that bloweth no man good," and at least the Duchess would see by this, how little faith was to be placed in idle tales. "There are those," he said mysteriously, "who play on both hands; they tell Your Excellency many things, and us somewhat." But would she go farther, and tell him if he might assure the King his master of her own good inclination towards the marriage? At these words Christina blushed exceedingly, and said with some hesitation: "As for my inclination, what should I say? You know I am at the Emperor's commandment." And when the Ambassador pressed her to be a little plainer, she smiled and repeated: "You know I am the Emperor's poor servant, and must follow his pleasure!"

"Marry!" exclaimed Wriothesley; "why, then I may hope to be one of the first Englishmen to be acquainted with my new mistress. Oh, madame, how happy shall you be if you are matched with my master—the most gentle gentleman that liveth, his nature so benign and pleasant that I think no man hath heard many angry words pass his mouth. As God shall help me, if he were no King, instead of one of the most puissant Princes of Christendom, I think, if you saw him, you would say that for his virtues, gentleness, wisdom, experience, goodliness of person, and all other gifts and qualities, he were worthy to be made a King. I know Your Grace to be of goodly parentage, and to have many great Princesses in your family, but if God send this to a good conclusion, you shall be of all the rest the most happy!"

This fulsome panegyric was too much for Christina's gravity. She listened for some time, like one that was tickled, then smiled, and almost burst out laughing, but restrained her merriment with much difficulty, and, quickly recovering herself, said gravely that she knew His Majesty was a good and noble Prince. "Yes, madame," replied the Ambassador, with enthusiasm, "and you shall know this better hereafter. And for my part, I would be content, if only I may live to see the day of your coronation, to say with Simeon, "Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine." And he dwelt with fervour on the wish of the English to have her for their Queen, and on the admiration and love which the fame of her beauty and goodness had excited in the King. Christina bowed her thanks, saying that she was much bounden to His Majesty for his good opinion, and then, calling her Grand Master, bade him escort the Ambassador home.