Katherine the Queen: The Remarkable Life of Katherine Parr Read online

  Religious study, was, in any case, fashionable among aristocratic women, and not just in England. Marguerite of Navarre, sister of the king of France, had written a widely admired work, The Mirror of the Sinful Soul, more than a decade earlier. Katherine was evidently a keen reader and it was natural for her Privy Chamber to become, over time, the centre for discussion of devotional works. But, without belittling the pursuits of Katherine and her ladies unduly, their activities began as something more akin to the meetings of a modern book group. In the climate of the 1540s, however, such interests inevitably attracted attention and the ladies may have encouraged each other down more radical paths. Katherine’s own ideas seem to have developed quite rapidly after the first year of her marriage, but it is more likely that the process was one of evolution rather than fixed intent before she became queen.

  Her spare time, such as she had, was not solely focused on self-improvement. There was a pleasure-loving side to Katherine – and she clearly loved her life as queen. Her household ate and drank heartily, danced and sang and enjoyed sports. The queen kept hounds and hawks for her hunting, parrots to amuse her and dogs as much-loved companions. Her spaniel, Rig, must have looked splendid in his ‘collar of crimson velvet embroidered with damask gold’ and its rings of silver gilt for attaching his lead.

  These details paint a picture of an energetic, determined but also vivacious woman who very consciously set about establishing an image and a role for herself. The apparent contradiction between the lover of finery and the student of scripture is easily explained by the complexity of Katherine’s character and the preoccupations of the times in which she lived. The respect in which she was clearly held from the early days of her marriage is a testament to her good sense and the dignity which she brought to being Henry’s queen. Even more impressive was how she made a success of her relationship with the royal children, providing them, for the first time, with a family life. For Katherine realized, from the outset of her marriage, that she could influence not just the present but the future if she could give them the visibility that she also sought for herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Royal Children

  ‘I affectionately and thoughtfully consider with what great love you attend both me, your mother, and scholarship at the same time …’

  Queen Katherine’s encouragement to Prince Edward, 1545

  IT WAS AGNES STRICKLAND, the celebrated Victorian biographer of England’s queens, who first highlighted the importance of Katherine Parr’s relationship with the children of Henry VIII: ‘How well the sound sense and endearing manners of Katherine Parr fitted her to reconcile the rival interests, and to render herself a bond of union between the disjointed links of the royal family, is proved by the affection and respect of her stepchildren, and also by their letters after Henry’s death.’1 Miss Strickland was less convinced that Henry himself was owed any credit for recognizing that Katherine might play a positive role in the lives of his offspring, but in this she was, perhaps, uncharitable, though it is easy to see why she reached the conclusion that the king had ‘glaringly violated the duties of a father to his daughters’. Henry, as has been noted before, was primarily looking for a wife for himself when he married Katherine. At the same time his mind was already turning to the future, and particularly the succession, and in this respect he had realized that he needed to consider all three of his children. In fact, he dined with both Mary and Elizabeth in September 1542, the first time, so far as is known, that such an event had taken place. Shortly afterwards, Mary returned to court permanently. Elizabeth was, of course, too young to reside there, but it is significant that both sisters were summoned to meet Katherine Parr in June 1543, before her marriage to the king was announced. We do not know whether this was at Katherine’s suggestion or Henry’s, but he obviously approved. And it is easy to believe that his bride-to-be, an experienced stepmother who had, after all, brought up Margaret Neville, would have wanted to establish a good rapport with the king’s daughters before the wedding took place. Henry was a selfish man but no longer a foolish one where marriage was concerned. A wife who pleased him and who also got on well with his family was the ideal choice.

  The role that she would play with all three children was clearly something that had occupied Katherine’s thoughts as she considered her response to the king’s proposal of marriage. In this there was more than just a genuine desire to contribute to their happiness, and that of their father. Katherine realized that her position as Henry’s queen would be strengthened if she could fulfil the role of mother to the two younger children and become a friend and supporter of Mary. Perhaps she suspected that she was unlikely to have children with Henry herself, though she must have hoped to become pregnant. Meanwhile, maintaining an interest in the existing family was vital. Her priorities would perhaps have changed had she produced a child of her own, but being a parent to other women’s children was a responsibility that Katherine assumed with grace and dedication. There was, no doubt, an element of calculation, however subconscious, in her approach to becoming a royal stepmother, but she brought a genuine enjoyment to the part she had to play. Her personality was well suited to the demands of the task. She was, after all, a woman who liked people and whose natural inclination was to make them welcome in her life. Her own childhood had been happy, despite the loss of her father when she was very small. She was determined that her third husband’s younger children should come to know that childhood did not have to be an affliction that meant isolation from the world. Instead, it could be a rewarding period of preparation for the challenges that lay ahead.

  Henry himself had known this, in the distant past. As a second son, he grew up with his sisters in the household of his mother, Elizabeth of York, secure and loved yet with none of the pressures that weighed on an heir. But the death of his brother, Prince Arthur, so soon after his marriage to Katherine of Aragon, altered Henry’s existence profoundly. His childhood idyll was transformed into a life of study and serious application for what lay ahead. Perhaps he always resented this loss of freedom. The ten-year-old who danced with such abandon at his elder brother’s nuptial celebrations was, only five months later, a king-in-waiting. The sudden ending of his own childhood must have been an ordeal; yet this does not seem to have made him any more sensitive to what his own children might feel.

  History may not have viewed Henry as an attentive parent but he cannot be judged by the standards of our time. The royal children were brought up in accordance with accepted practice, where a separate household for the Prince of Wales and smaller establishments for princesses, often living together, were the norm. Courts were no places for small children and Mary had always had a household of her own until her parents’ divorce, when she went (extremely unwillingly at first) to live with Elizabeth. Thereafter, Henry’s two daughters had mostly shared a household, at least until the early 1540s, though Mary sometimes stayed with Prince Edward and there were also occasions when the royal children were all together, especially at Christmas. So Henry’s family were, in reality, considerably closer to one another (if not to him) than the prevailing image of dysfunctionality suggests. On the other hand, the king was an infrequent visitor to his children’s establishments, though he claimed to love them all.

  Katherine knew this and set about turning his affection, buried by the legacy of failed marriages and the sheer business of kingship and politics, to the children’s advantage. She was convinced that they should be included more in Henry’s life and thoughts, not just paraded as marriage fodder in the case of the girls or left in splendid isolation, as Edward had been. Important as her encouragement was, however, it must be acknowledged that her success was largely because her approach chimed well with considerations that Henry was already developing about the future of England, and his children’s roles. Perhaps she did not materially alter their prospects, but she helped provide a climate in which their lives were relieved of uncertainty, at least so long as Henry remained alive and she was hi
s consort. The early months of her marriage, when she was almost continuously with the king, provided Katherine with an ideal opportunity to influence him and to establish a bond with his children. Where this could not be done directly (Katherine’s first duty was to the king and she could not often visit the younger children in person) the new queen used intermediaries, such as Margaret Neville, to visit Elizabeth, and she began a correspondence with her stepson that was to give great pleasure to both of them. Circumstances made it inevitable that she could not often be in sight, but Katherine was determined that she should not be out of mind. But what were her stepchildren like in 1543, and how did they react to her efforts on their behalf ?

  PRINCE EDWARD was three months short of his sixth birthday when Katherine married his father. Victorian historians and numerous historical novelists have depicted him as a lonely and sickly little boy, overwhelmed by the responsibilities that would be his on Henry’s death, and frequently unwell. A greater contrast to the obstreperous but hardy Yorkshire lad John Neville, who had been Katherine’s first stepson, could scarcely be imagined. Yet in reality, ‘my lord prince’, as he was known, was far from being a child weighed down with cares, and his health, despite the occasional scare that went with his age, did not give rise to any great concern. Childhood death stalked Tudor England and there must always have been the realization that he might not attain his majority. The prince’s life was, however, carefully organized to protect him as much as possible from the threat of disease. His household moved among the king’s manors, hunting-lodges and smaller palaces on the fringes of London, well scattered in pleasant countryside with healthy air. Access to him was restricted, to minimize risk and protect him from the perils of the plague and other evils that bred in the cities, particularly in the summer. No food was offered to him that had not been meticulously tasted beforehand and even his laundry and clothing was subject to rigorous standards of hygiene and preparation before any apparel came near the royal body. Nothing, it was hoped, was left to chance where Edward’s wellbeing was concerned. A devoted staff, composed mostly of women, looked after him day and night. His household was still under the charge of Lady Bryan, a highly experienced lady mistress who had been responsible, at various times, for both his sisters. The king trusted her and she was not afraid to speak her mind when it came to the children’s welfare. Edward’s early years in her care, with his rockers and his nurse, were mainly passed in the pleasant surroundings of Hunsdon, Havering, Hertford and Ashridge, with all the toys, playmates and attention that he could possibly want. He was a happy, active child, as Lady Bryan enthusiastically reported to Thomas Cromwell very shortly before that minister’s fall in 1540: ‘My Lord Prince’s grace is in good health and merry … his grace danced and played so wantonly that he could not stand still, and was as full of pretty toys as ever I saw a child in my life.’2 Among his companions was the young Jane Dormer, later the favourite lady-in-waiting of his sister Mary. Their early games of cards together sound charming, but religious differences separated them later. The Dormers were adherents of the old religion and Jane’s marriage to a Spanish nobleman in 1558 took her out of England for the rest of her life. But by then the little prince she had helped entertain was five years in his grave.

  Edward’s privileged and pampered lifestyle was only occasionally interrupted by glimpses of the outside world where, on his father’s death, he would suddenly take centre-stage. Foreign diplomats sometimes came to call, offering compliments but also reminders that Edward was a public personage. He was not always the most welcoming of hosts and did not like being inspected. So unused was he to male company as a very small boy that he found the long beards of two emissaries from the German Protestant princes alarming and sobbed bitterly into his nurse’s shoulder. When his father married Katherine Parr, Edward himself was newly promised in marriage to the baby Queen of Scots. His thoughts on this development are unknown but he already knew that he was not like other people, so perhaps the idea of marrying a queen was perfectly natural to him, despite his tender years.

  Family life, however, in the sense of having two parents close at hand, was not something he had ever experienced. This was partly a product of his position as heir to the throne but it was also brought about by circumstances. His mother had died less than two weeks after his birth and his father spent very little time with him. That much, at least, he had in common with Katherine’s first stepson. But he had not been neglected by other members of his kindred. His half-sister, Mary, was old enough to be his mother and effectively filled that role for him until Katherine Parr came along. Mary visited him often and showered him with presents. Their close relationship would eventually sour during his reign, the victim of court intrigues and genuine religious differences, though it foundered also on Mary’s inability to acknowledge that he was no longer a child. But that she loved him dearly is beyond doubt and he was fortunate to have her attention when he was so young. He also spent time with his other sister, Elizabeth, who was only four years older than him, but whose prospects appeared much less glorious. They too had a strong bond of affection, forged in living arrangements that were sometimes shared, as was their schoolroom, and deepened by their desire to please their father the king and, increasingly, his sixth wife, Katherine, the woman they both called their mother.

  Katherine Parr came into Edward’s life in the last year of what might be termed his unfettered childhood, when plans were about to be made for his education and training as a future king. Her influence, if not direction, of the choice of tutors and study for her stepson is evident in his correspondence with her. There was also a marked closeness of outlook between her own ideas and those of key members of Edward’s household staff. But her importance to Edward personally went even beyond this, for she was the link between the prince and the person he wanted to please more than anyone else in the world – his magnificent, but distant, father.

  The prince seems to have been rather frightened of Henry and for this he could hardly be blamed. His father’s visits, though few and far between, were stressful for everyone in Edward’s household and required the boy himself to put on a performance that clearly made him nervous. Such meetings were not intended as opportunities for idle chit-chat but for Edward to prove that he was equal to the role of being Henry’s heir. They were about progress and attainment, rather than paternal love, and Edward was carefully prepared by his tutors for these visits. He must also have received help with the first surviving letter to his father, in May 1544:

  Therefore, as often as I recall my mind to that unbounded goodness of yours towards a little manikin like myself, and as often as I inwardly reflect upon my various duties and obligations, my mind shudders – yea, it shudders, so that while shuddering, it also leaps with a marvellous delight: your majesty and the sweetest open-heartedness together carry me away. Hence it is forever before my eyes, the idea that I am worthy to be tortured with stripes of ignominy, if through negligence I should omit even the smallest particle of my duty.3

  The reaction of the reader to this cloying combination of exaggerated flattery and self-abasement is to shudder even more than the prince himself, but to do so overlooks the intention behind this abject missive, which goes on for another page or so, with liberal references to Cicero and Plato. Edward was demonstrating that he fully appreciated the sublime benefits of his father’s kingship, for did not Plato teach ‘that, after all, is the happiest government in which the kings are philosophers or the philosophers are kings. But our happiness I never can sufficiently admire, over whom bears sway the most philosophic of kings and the most kingly of philosophers.’ And in the brilliance of his father was Edward’s own glorious future reflected. Of course, the ‘little manikin’ was not the originator of this letter himself, though he may well have participated in its composition. The words were almost certainly those of Edward’s tutor, Richard Cox, and they were written at a time when John Cheke, the distinguished Regius Professor of Greek at St John’s College, Cambridge,
was appointed to join Cox, as the prince’s education started in earnest.

  Katherine’s part in these appointments was probably indirect. Henry is unlikely to have left the selection of those who were to train his son for kingship entirely to his wife, much as he loved her. But by the spring of 1544 her influence was considerable and the king was preparing to nominate her as regent during his absence on the battlefield in France. She certainly took a keen interest in Edward’s education and it is reasonable to suppose that she knew and approved of the choices that were being made. Katherine was in the process of developing her own ideas and establishing herself as a patron of learning, as queen consorts before her had done. Her own position would be further strengthened by supporting the prince’s team of tutors, who were among the greatest academic figures of their day.

  Richard Cox, then in his early forties, had been educated at Eton and King’s College, Cambridge. For a time he was headmaster at his old school and had been chaplain to both Archbishop Cranmer and the king himself. He was also close to William Butts, the king’s chief physician, Sir Anthony Denny, keeper of the privy purse and later first gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and William Paget, the king’s secretary. With powerful friends like these he scarcely needed the queen’s approval, though he was, no doubt, glad of it and of her devotion to Prince Edward. What is significant, both from the perspective of Edward’s upbringing and Katherine’s own interests, is that this was a close-knit coterie of intellectually outstanding men, committed to the English Reformation. Most wished to see religious reform go further, though they were not so outspoken in the latter years of Henry’s reign as they became under his son.