Katherine the Queen: The Remarkable Life of Katherine Parr Page 15

  Plans were already afoot for Seymour to resume his diplomatic career. As early as 10 March, Chapuys, the imperial ambassador, noted that he was to be sent back to the Netherlands as Henry’s representative there. In fact, he did not leave until early May, which suggests that the king did not view him as a serious rival. He may, if we attribute more devious motives to Henry, have wished to dangle Seymour under Katherine’s nose while she debated his proposal, as a test of her judgement and Seymour’s self-control. More likely, the delay was caused by quite extraneous factors such as the overall diplomatic situation and the inevitable slowness of decision-making. Seymour had accepted that he must do as he was bid. There were no histrionics. But Katherine had yet to agree that she would be the king’s sixth wife.

  It cannot have been easy for her, since it was so far removed from what she really wanted. Neither can it have been a complete surprise. Henry had not picked her name from a list and it is inconceivable that she did not know of his interest. Later, she wrote that reflection and prayer had caused her, eventually, to see that it was God’s will that she became queen: ‘Howbeit,’ she wrote in 1547 to Thomas Seymour, ‘God withstood my will therein most vehemently for a time, and through his grace and goodness made that possible which seemeth to me most impossible; that was, made me to renounce utterly mine own will, and to follow his will most willingly.’ It had been, she acknowledged, a long struggle. ‘It were too long to write all the process of this matter. If I live, I shall declare it to you myself.’22

  How much of this was intended to convince herself, as justification for the path she had taken, is open to question. But it does speak of a passionate nature eventually reaching an accommodation with reality through what Katherine perceived to be God’s will. It does not necessarily mean, as has often been thought, that Katherine was already being influenced by religious reformers who had persuaded her that she was the vessel through which the changes to religion in England could be safeguarded, and even progressed still farther. Far more likely is that, at the time, she had followed the encouragement of her family and recognized the privileges and riches (as well as the dangers) that came with being Henry’s consort. Her quandary was a serious one, and, being a woman of her times, she wished to assign the final decision to God’s will, rather than earthly considerations.

  It is possible, though, to detect something of the timing of her journey to the throne that spring. At the end of April, even as his friend, Thomas Seymour, was preparing to leave for his new diplomatic posting, William Parr began to receive favours from the king. His career, already blighted by his unfaithful and intransigent wife, seemed to have stalled and he lacked the drive to improve himself through his own efforts. Yet on 23 April he was appointed Knight of the Garter and shortly afterwards awarded the office of Lord Warden and Keeper of the Western Marches towards Scotland. William Parr had never shown much interest in the north, despite his family links, but he was granted both the Garter and this prestigious post on the borders, probably in anticipation of his sister’s marriage to the king rather than his own merits.

  The following month, William Herbert, husband of Katherine’s sister Anne, received favours of his own, this time in Wales. But while the Herberts remained at court and Anne prepared herself to support her sister as queen, William Parr was in Darlington, keen to prove himself as administrator and soldier but having little opportunity to excel in either role. Thomas Seymour’s brother, Edward, earl of Hertford, did the fighting and the duke of Suffolk, as lord lieutenant, was the chief contact of the Privy Council. Parr’s desire to make his mark was understandable but Suffolk did not appreciate it and Cuthbert Tunstall attempted to smooth troubled waters, not entirely successfully.

  Yet if William was a worry to his elderly cousin, Tunstall, who had watched over the Parr siblings for years, must have been delighted when he learned that Katherine had finally agreed to accept Henry. After much reflection, the realization of the immense benefits that would accrue and the acceptance that it was her duty (and God’s will) that she become queen, prevailed over Katherine’s fears and doubts, and her regret at having to give up Thomas Seymour. By the middle of June her decision was evidently made. Lord Lisle wrote to his friend William Parr on 20 June from Greenwich: ‘my Lady Latimer, your sister, and Mrs Herbert be both here at Court with my Lady Mary’s Grace and my Lady Elizabeth’.23 The fact that the king’s daughters, who had not been together earlier in the spring, were noted as being at court with Katherine and her sister is surely significant. The king himself had only arrived the previous day, having spent some time inspecting the port at Harwich – a further indication that he had not been pressing his suit with Katherine importunately during this period. But there may well have been other considerations of propriety in observing a period of mourning for Lord Latimer. It is certainly possible that Katherine had, in fact, made up her mind to accept the king before June, and that a decision had been made to postpone the actual wedding, so that it did not seem indecorously close to the burial of her second husband. So it may be that her agitation was intense, but of shorter duration than she herself wanted to acknowledge in retrospect. A longer period between acceptance and ceremony would also have given her time to contemplate her approach to the role of queen consort and to begin to put certain elements of this in place. A good relationship with Mary and Elizabeth was fundamental to her strategy. Once married, and confident in being queen, she could develop it further.

  This was not to be an ostentatious wedding. Nowadays we might describe it as a quiet affair for family and close friends. But even in its organization, Henry VIII cleverly sent mixed messages to his watching courtiers and clergy. The licence was issued on 10 July, by the reformer Archbishop Cranmer, ‘for the marriage of his sovereign lord, king Henry, with Katherine Latymer, late the wife of lord de Latymer, deceased, in whatever church, chapel or oratory he may please, without publication of banns, dispensing with all ordinances to the contrary for reasons concerning the honour and advancement of the whole realm’. The ceremony itself, however, was conducted by Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, a Catholic who had supported the divorce but who had strong reservations about many of the changes of the English Reformation. And, as a further sign of the balanced approach that Henry wanted in religious matters, the ceremony was conducted in English with the oration, given by Gardiner, in Latin. What he said has not survived.

  Just two days passed between the licence and the wedding. Katherine and Henry were married on 12 July at Hampton Court, in the Queen’s Closet, a private chapel close to the king’s, above the Chapel Royal. The time of day is not recorded, nor is any description of Katherine’s dress, but the names of all of those present are known. William Herbert and the earl of Hertford (Thomas Seymour’s brother) were among the gentlemen of the king’s party, as was Sir Thomas Darcy, son of the man whose participation in the Pilgrimage of Grace had cost him his life. Katherine was supported by her sister, by John Dudley’s wife, Jane, by Katherine Brandon, the duchess of Suffolk, and Hertford’s wife, Anne, who, as would become apparent after Henry VIII’s death, was probably far from enthusiastic about Katherine’s elevation. The royal ladies, Margaret Douglas (the king’s niece), Mary and Elizabeth, also witnessed Henry and Katherine take their vows. Twenty people crowded into the small room, which measured about 10 by 14 metres, for the brief ceremony.

  Henry VIII commanded his pronotary to make an official record of the marriage, which records the precise vows taken by the king and Katherine Parr. Virtually unchanged by the Reformation or the passing of centuries, they are the words still spoken at Anglican weddings:

  then the king taking her right hand, repeated after the bishop the words, ‘I, Henry, take thee, Katherine, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part, and thereto I plight thee my troth.’ Then releasing and again clasping hands, the lady Katherine likewise said, ‘I, Katherine, take thee Henry to
my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to be bonaire and buxom in bed and at board, till death us do part, and thereto I plight unto thee my troth.’24

  Richard Watkins, the king’s lawyer, further observed that ‘the putting on of the wedding ring and proffer of gold and silver followed; and the bishop, after prayer, pronounced a benediction’.

  Celebrations afterwards must have been restrained, for no account of them survives. It had been noted that Henry spoke his vows with enthusiasm. Katherine was perhaps more nervous. Later that same day, she was proclaimed queen of England, but there was no great entry into London planned and nothing was ever mentioned of a coronation. If Katherine was less exuberant than Henry on their wedding day, it does not necessarily mean that she harboured any last-minute doubts about what she was doing. A discreet image was what she wanted to project at the beginning, while she was still so new to the business of being queen. In her own mind, she was perfectly calm. Romance was in the past. A great and wholly unexpected opportunity had come her way. Now she was determined to enjoy, rather than endure, the fact that she was the sixth consort of Henry VIII.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Queen and Her Court

  ‘She was dressed in a robe of cloth of gold and a petticoat of brocade with sleeves lined with crimson satin … her train was more than two yards long.’

  The secretary to the duke of Najera,

  reporting in February 1544

  AT HOME AND ABROAD, the marriage met with a warm response. Thomas Wriothesley, the king’s secretary, wrote to the duke of Suffolk on 16 July: ‘I doubt not of your grace knowing … that the king’s majesty was married on Thursday last to my lady Latimer, a woman, in my judgement, for virtue, wisdom and gentleness most meet for his highness; and sure I am his majesty had never a wife more agreeable to his heart than she is. Our Lord send them long life and much joy together.’1 Wriothesley’s wife, Jane, became one of Katherine’s ladies-in-waiting, though the relationship between the ambitious politician and the queen apparently deteriorated over time. But in July 1543 his charming, rather understated praise typified what seems to have been a general reaction to the king’s sixth wife. It was certainly echoed by Edmond Harvel, the English ambassador to Venice, who wrote flatteringly of the new queen’s beauty and favourable comments he had received from prominent Venetians. Sir Ralph Sadler, who had survived Cromwell’s downfall and now laboured with the poisoned chalice of being ambassador to Scotland, wrote to William Parr that Katherine’s marriage had ‘revived my troubled spirits and turned all my cares to rejoicing. And, my lord, I do not only rejoice for your lordship’s sake … but also for the real and inestimable benefit and comfort which thereby shall ensure to the whole realm.’2

  The diplomatic community in London, caught by surprise when the marriage was announced, do not seem, at first, to have known quite how to react. The long-serving imperial ambassador, Eustace Chapuys, failed to mention it until 27 July, when he informed Granvelle, the bishop of Arras and one of Charles V’s closest advisers in the Netherlands, that ‘the king espoused the queen privately and without ceremony’. The same day, he referred almost obliquely to the event, in a despatch that mostly had to do with international affairs in Scotland and in Germany, which were, no doubt, his prime concern at the time. It is possible that Chapuys was somewhat piqued at not having picked up rumours of the wedding before it happened. He had, months earlier, commented on the king’s attentiveness to ladies of the court in a general way, but does not seem to have spotted Lady Latimer as a likely choice. Since Chapuys liked to present himself to his master as being au courant with all the latest gossip (even though he was not) he may have chosen to play down the significance of yet another wife for this much-married king. In truth, because the licence was issued so close to the actual ceremony, it is hardly surprising that Chapuys was in the dark. Yet soon he became an admirer of Katherine’s, noting her graciousness and kindness, particularly to Mary, the princess he had worked so indefatigably to support for a decade. Initially, though, he reported rather slyly that there was at least one person who was completely confounded by the step Henry had taken. That person was the king’s fourth wife, Anne of Cleves. She had, so Chapuys claimed to have heard, ‘taken great grief and despair at the king’s espousal of this last wife, who is not nearly so beautiful as she, besides that there is no hope of issue, seeing that she had none with her two former husbands’.3

  There may well have been more than a grain of truth in this description of the chagrin of Anne of Cleves. Despite the well-known rhyme about the six wives of Henry VIII, Katherine Parr was not, of course, the only one to survive. Anne was still very much alive in 1543. She would outlive both Henry and Katherine Parr, but her situation at the time of Henry’s sixth marriage was not one that she evidently found comfortable. That she should have harboured hopes of once again becoming queen may seem extraordinary in retrospect, but we should not suppose that she was unusually thick-skinned or naive. Though the king had treated her with kindness since their divorce her prospects were limited. She had observed the debacle of his marriage to Katherine Howard and must have hoped that he would reconsider, especially since he had got to know her better. Clearly, she had never understood (or never accepted) that the king found her physically repellent. In January 1540, the French ambassador had described her as being of ‘medium beauty’ – not a ringing endorsement, perhaps, but clearly she retained some confidence in her appearance. It is also probable that she had never been as ignorant about the procreative side of marriage as had been claimed by her ladies in 1540. Three years later, still aged only twenty-eight, she may well have believed that she was a better childbearing prospect than the twice-widowed and childless Katherine Parr. As it was, the king took some pains to reconcile her to his new wife, inviting her to court in 1543 and again in 1546. There can be no doubt that Katherine would have done her best to be welcoming to this German princess, a rather wistful figure trapped in a foreign land.

  Whatever onlookers may think, a marriage is generally successful only if there is genuine affection between husband and wife. Henry VIII was, when Katherine married him, the most absolute monarch England had known. There was about him a palpable air of menace. He was also old by Tudor standards, frequently irascible, and beset by ill-health. Yet the depth of his love for Katherine Parr has often been overlooked. He showered her with jewels and dower manors, showed marked favouritism to her family and was delighted to show her off whenever he could. Her company seems to have been a real source of pleasure to him, perhaps because of her personality but also because they shared many interests. No one has ever seriously considered that she might have loved him, too; her feelings are most often characterized as a ruthless suppression of love for Thomas Seymour, finding its outlet in religious study and writing, coupled with a not all together attractive opportunism in taking the benefits of queenship. But Katherine was a complex woman emotionally, and if she was not in love with Henry when they married, she came to have real affection for him, through getting to know him, and through her attentions to his children.

  Circumstances certainly played a large part in the development of a strong bond between the king and his sixth wife. The plague, that scourge of summer in the cities, had just hit London when Katherine and Henry were married. ‘This summer’, recorded the chronicle, ‘was great death in the city of London and suburbs of the same, wherefore the king made proclamation … that no Londoner should come within 7 miles where the king lay.’4 This was a particularly virulent outbreak of the plague. It lingered well into the autumn and the court stayed away from the capital. This meant that the newly-weds were almost continuously together for the first six months of their marriage, as Henry avoided contagion and his wife got to know the manors and hunting-lodges that he possessed in Surrey, Bedfordshire, Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire. 5 Ampthill in Bedfordshire was a particular favourite. Henry rarely hunted on horsebac
k any more, so he had new standings built in the park from which he could shoot game. His wife, a keen huntswoman and archer of some prowess could enjoy the pastime at his side. They spent most of October and November 1543 at Ampthill, while the plague continued to be so devastating in London that the sessions of the Law Courts were moved out to St Albans in Hertfordshire.

  Henry returned briefly to Whitehall just before Christmas. Life was not all pleasure for the king, and the business of government never stood still. Meetings of the Privy Council took place regularly wherever he was. Despite the conclusion of a treaty with the Scots for the marriage of their infant queen to Prince Edward, affairs north of the border remained high on the English government’s agenda. And the Emperor Charles V was pleased to note that the king of England seemed more inclined to join with him against the French than had been the case for some years. At home, Henry continued to pursue his middle way in religion; three evangelicals were burnt at Windsor two weeks after the royal wedding. Yet the king resisted attempts to bring down Archbishop Cranmer. Perhaps he was ‘the greatest heretic in Kent’, but he was still Henry’s heretic and the monarch had no intention of replacing him, though with his typical capacity for keeping people guessing, he did not publicly commit himself to Cranmer for several weeks. Instead, Henry went back to Hampton Court to join his wife and children for the festive season. It was the first family Christmas he had known for a good many years.

  KATHERINE WAS NOW well established as consort, bedmate and stepmother, greatly helped by the unbroken time she had spent in the king’s company. Her confidence had come gradually, but she was so naturally gracious and intelligent that it was not a difficult transition from being a minor noblewoman to being a queen. The court was in her blood. The only one of Henry’s wives who had been prepared in any way for queenship was Katherine of Aragon, and even she had been the youngest child of a royal family. Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour had both been ladies-in-waiting with an eye to the main chance, Anne of Cleves was the sister of a German princeling and Katherine Howard had grown up unloved, ill-educated and undisciplined, sexually precocious but completely unfit to occupy a throne. Katherine Parr brought no such baggage with her and was the stronger for not having sought the role of queen or been craftily dangled in front of Henry VIII. It gave her an independence that the other wives had lacked.