Six Wives (19 page)
Authors: David Starkey
Henry's words cannot be faulted as an expression of filial piety. But I do not think they should be taken seriously as an explanation of his behaviour. For, far from respecting his dying father's every wish, Henry had, while the breath was scarce out of the body of the old King, endorsed a comprehensive overthrow of the key policies and personnel of his reign. In any case, had Henry VII really come round to the Spanish marriage? If so, he had done a good job of concealing his kingly intentions from Catherine.
The truth seems to be that Henry VIII married Catherine because he wanted to. He wanted her father, Ferdinand of Spain, as an ally in the war which he intended to wage against France. He wanted to be married to show that, despite his youth, he was fully adult and able to wield sovereignty without limitation. And finally, despite the fact that Catherine was twenty-four and a half years old to his eighteen, and that she was four feet something to his six feet two inches, she was still young enough and attractive enough to be wanted for herself. 'Even if we were still free,' Henry assured Catherine's father on 26 July, 'it is she, nevertheless, that we would choose for our wife before all other.' This time Henry is to be believed.
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Catherine's own motives for the marriage were also a mixture of the personal and the dynastic. It was her duty and destiny to be Queen of England. With a King like the young Henry VIII, who was the most handsome and brilliant prince in Christendom, it was a pleasure too. But Catherine had not been taught to set much store by pleasure. Instead, it is duty, to her father and to her House, which shines through the letter she wrote to Ferdinand in July 1509. 'I have no other good except that of being your daughter,' she assured him. She was 'so well married' indeed. But the marriage was the work of Ferdinand's hands. As for Henry, her principal reason for loving him was not that he was her husband, but that he was 'so true a son of your highness'. 'I have performed the office of ambassador' to England, she reminded Ferdinand. And she would continue to perform it with the additional power that came from presenting her credentials in the marriage bed.
Ferdinand knew his daughter well. He would now begin to receive the return on his investment in her marriage.
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But, even in this letter, Catherine shed a little of her Spanishness. Juan de Cuero and his wife Janina had stepped into the shoes of the Manriques after their flight into exile. Janina de Cuero had replaced Dona Elvira as Catherine's Lady Mistress, while Juan had become her Chamberlain. Now Catherine, more independent in spirit, got rid of them both. She told Ferdinand that the De Cueros 'with my other servants, set off from hence to their homes'. She paid the members of her Household their eight years' arrears of wages (save for the everunforgiven de Esquivel, who got only six). But this payment, Catherine made clear, was to discharge a debt of honour, not to reward good service. Instead, she wrote, her followers deserved censure for their misbehaviour but forgiveness for her sake, 'by reason that they can call themselves mine'.
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The stick-and-carrot treatment Catherine suggested for her former Household servants was scant reward for their years of purgatorial exile in England. But, though ungenerous, it was an accurate assessment of the damage which their foolish quarrels had done her. Would the handful left behind, in particular her confessor, Fray Diego, serve her better?
23. Honeymoon
C
atherine's honeymoon with Henry lasted for far longer than the customary 'first month after marriage, when there is nothingbut tenderness and pleasure'. Instead, many months went by and still the King, the Queen and the Court devoted themselves to a round of entertainment. 'Our time is ever passed in continual feasts,' Catherine informed her father. Henry, also writing to Ferdinand, catalogued their pleasures in great detail: 'diverts himself with jousts, birding, hunting and other innocent and honest pastimes, also in visiting different parts of his kingdom'. This last is a reference to the Progress. The Progress this year lasted all August and September, as the Court wandered in leisurely stages from palace to palace and park to park in the home counties.
atherine's honeymoon with Henry lasted for far longer than the customary 'first month after marriage, when there is nothingbut tenderness and pleasure'. Instead, many months went by and still the King, the Queen and the Court devoted themselves to a round of entertainment. 'Our time is ever passed in continual feasts,' Catherine informed her father. Henry, also writing to Ferdinand, catalogued their pleasures in great detail: 'diverts himself with jousts, birding, hunting and other innocent and honest pastimes, also in visiting different parts of his kingdom'. This last is a reference to the Progress. The Progress this year lasted all August and September, as the Court wandered in leisurely stages from palace to palace and park to park in the home counties.
Amidst all the pleasure, there was time for tenderness too and at some time, probably during the Progress, Catherine became pregnant. By 1 November, the fact was made public. 'Your daughter, her Serene Highness the Queen, our dearest consort,' Henry informed Ferdinand, 'has conceived in her womb a living child and is right heavy therewith.' Henry was overjoyed and the realm exulted. A fruitful marriage was a good marriage: the decision to wed Catherine was about to be vindicated.
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Christmas was spent at Richmond. On 12 January, Henry made his boldest gesture yet and took part in a tournament. He had long been itching to do so. But hitherto he had felt it wise to defer to the continuing anxieties about the succession and had refrained from risking his life in public combat. It was these fears which had led his father to ban him from the tilt-yard in the first place. But now, confident in his impending fatherhood, he cast them aside and rode out to take his chance with the rest. He had his reward: he shivered lance after lance and scored repeatedly. The cheers of the crowd rang out; he was a sporting hero at last.
Henry, however, had only half come out of the closet, since he and his aide, William Compton, rode incognito, 'unknown to all persons and unlooked for'. But the King's cover was blown when Compton was badly injured in a bout. 'God save the King!' cried out someone in on the secret, terrified lest the injured knight was Henry himself. Amid the general consternation Henry had his helmet taken off and made himself known 'to the great comfort of all the people'.
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The Court then removed to Westminster where the boisterous fun and games continued. On the 18th, a group of twelve men, dressed like outlaws in short coats of Kendal Green, burst into the Queen's Chamber. It was Henry and his companions, disguised as Robin Hood and his Merry Men (complete 'with a woman like Maid Marion'). The entertainment was mounted 'for a gladness to the Queen's Grace'. But a contemporary account suggests a different, less happy reaction. According to the chronicler Hall, 'the Queen, the ladies, and all other [in the Queen's Chamber] were abashed, as well for the strange sight, as also for their sudden coming'.
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Was Catherine worrying at the risks her husband took? Were his adolescent antics becoming a strain?
At all events, on the morning of 31 January the Queen suddenly miscarried of a daughter. There had been almost no warning, 'except', her confessor, Fray Diego reported, 'that one knee pained her the night before'. The miscarriage was kept so secret, Fray Diego continued, 'that no one knew about it . . . except the King . . . two Spanish women, a physician and I'. But, instead of Catherine's belly diminishing with the delivery, the swelling continued and increased enormously. Probably this was the result of infection. But, disastrously, her physician persuaded himself that 'the Queen remained pregnant of another child and it was believed'. More extraordinarily still, the belief was persisted in, even when the Queen's menstrual cycle recommenced.
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Shrove Tuesday, the eve of Lent, was a day of celebration at Court. In 1510 it was also the last major occasion in the Court calendar before the Queen's expected confinement. So Henry decided to mark it in style. On 13 February, the King led in the Queen, to all appearances still heavily pregnant, and placed her in the royal throne, to preside over the banquet and the merry-making. He himself 'would not sit, but walked from place to place, making cheer to the Queen' and his guests. It was a remarkable public display of affection for Catherine, and of pride in her state.
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Towards the end of the month, the preparations for Catherine's confinement began. On the 24th the Court removed to Greenwich, where Henry himself had been born and where he hoped his own firstborn would see the light of day. And on the 26th a warrant was issued for the refurbishment of the royal nursery, 'God willing', and the Queen's Chamber. The 'cradle of estate', or baby-throne, in which Henry himself had been laid, was re-covered in crimson cloth of gold, while the pommels at each corner were re-painted to include Catherine's arms alongside Henry's. Bedding was got ready for the wet-nurse, who would suckle the child, and for the two rockers, who would take it in turns to rock the cradle. And Mrs Elizabeth Denton, who had presided over Henry's own nursery as Lady Mistress, was brought out of retirement.
Meanwhile, Catherine's own apartment was got ready.
The Royal
Book
laid down elaborate rules for the Queen's confinement. The bed, bed-hangings and wall covering were all to be of 'a suite', that is, of a single design. Figurative tapestries were avoided, lest they provoke fantastic dreams in the Queen and thus affect the child's mental state. The ceiling, floor and windows were covered in fabrics too, fitted close and nailed down. The tapestry was left loose only at one window, so that the Queen could have light 'when it pleased her'. There was a cupboard, stacked with gold and silver plate as a mark of her status, and an altar, covered with images and relics, where she could pray. At the foot of her bed stood a canopied day-bed on which, almost certainly, labour was intended to take place.
The Royal
Book
laid down elaborate rules for the Queen's confinement. The bed, bed-hangings and wall covering were all to be of 'a suite', that is, of a single design. Figurative tapestries were avoided, lest they provoke fantastic dreams in the Queen and thus affect the child's mental state. The ceiling, floor and windows were covered in fabrics too, fitted close and nailed down. The tapestry was left loose only at one window, so that the Queen could have light 'when it pleased her'. There was a cupboard, stacked with gold and silver plate as a mark of her status, and an altar, covered with images and relics, where she could pray. At the foot of her bed stood a canopied day-bed on which, almost certainly, labour was intended to take place.
Some time in March Catherine entered this specially prepared apartment in the ceremony known as 'taking to her Chamber'. She took wine and spices with the Court in her Presence Chamber or Throne Room. Then her Lord Chamberlain, the Earl of Ormond, who had been Chamberlain to Henry's mother, Queen Elizabeth, called on the company to pray that 'God would give her the good hour' – that is, a safe delivery. A procession formed and accompanied the Queen to the door of her Chamber. There the gentlemen of the Court bade her farewell, while the Queen and her ladies entered. Catherine would now dwell in an exclusively female world until her delivery and her churching, when, some four weeks after the birth, she would be purified of the pollution of labour.
Inside, in the close, darkened room that was almost womb-like in its seclusion, Catherine had nothing to do but wait. Outside the King and Court waited too. But Henry diverted himself on 18 March by organising a running at the ring. The new Spanish ambassador, Luiz Caroz, who had come to replace the disgraced Fuensalida, was mightily impressed to see Henry in armour for the first time.
Caroz was less happy with Catherine's condition. He had not heard about the miscarriage. But he had got to know about Catherine's resumed periods and, with a knowledge of gynaecology which seems to have been sounder than Catherine's, doubted whether her pregnancy could be real. His fears proved all too well founded.
Catherine continued to wait; Henry continued to wait. And still nothing happened. Finally, according to Fray Diego, 'it has pleased our Lord to be her physician in such a way that the swelling decreased'. She was not pregnant; there was no child. The preparations, the ceremonies had all been in vain. Catherine was left only with the humiliation – as public as the shame which had been visited on her when her marriage portion had not arrived, and far more serious.
Wise after the event, Caroz railed at the folly of those who would 'affirm that a menstruating woman was pregnant and . . . make her withdraw publicly for her delivery'. He also worried about the immediate consequences. He pressed the Council to consider carefully the official explanation of events which they would have to offer. He reported gloomily the fears of many councillors that, 'since the Queen was not pregnant, she was incapable of conceiving'. And he made helpful suggestions for improving Catherine's diet and hence the regularity of her menstruation. For 'the fact that she did not menstruate well', he had been told, was the reason for her failure to conceive.
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The honeymoon was over. The false pregnancy had got the marriage off to the worst possible start. And Henry and Catherine had their first quarrel.
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The Duke of Buckingham had two sisters. The elder was Elizabeth, who had married Viscount Fitzwalter. She was Catherine's principal lady-inwaiting and quickly became a favourite of the Queen's. The younger sister was Anne. She married Lord Hastings and, more importantly perhaps, caught the King's eye. Catherine's extended lying-in provided an opportunity and an incentive for the affair to develop. Henry used Compton, who had recovered from his jousting injury, as go-between.
The task was more-or-less part of Compton's job-description as Groom of the Stool. The Groom's original and continuing function was to attend the King when he relieved himself on the close-stool or commode. But round this had developed a whole range of other responsibilities, which, by 1509, made Compton, as Groom, head of the King's private service. He controlled access to the King, looked after his personal money and papers, and handled his confidential relations – with men and women alike.
It was also his business to cover the King's tracks. Which is how the rumour got about that Compton was pursuing Anne on his own account. Elizabeth became concerned for her sister's virtue and warned their brother, Buckingham. Buckingham confronted Compton and the two had a furious quarrel. Henry then intervened to protect his confidential servant and bawled out Buckingham, who withdrew from Court in a huff. Hastings likewise removed Anne from Court and temptation, and deposited her in a convent to cool her heels. Once more Henry retaliated. He blamed Elizabeth and her intervention, and dismissed her from Court. It was now Catherine's turn to be outraged and the King and Queen had a very public falling-out.
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But the most interesting aspect of the whole business is Catherine's own reaction to her miserable experience. In the modern phrase, she coped by 'going into denial'. She also hid within the protective walls of her Chamber. She was still there at the end of May, when the concern about her behaviour had become serious. The English, Caroz reported, 'wish she should go out and be no longer withdrawn; it is however not known when she will go out'. She also did her best to keep most of what had happened from the person she most valued: Ferdinand.
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