The generally received explanation of this unfortunate occurrence was that, by the carelessness of her attendants, she had been allowed to catch cold at the christening, and Thomas Cromwell also blamed those about her for letting her eat such unsuitable food 'as her fantasy in sickness called for'. In fact, of course, as far as it is possible to be certain, she died of puerperal sepsis, or childbed fever, caused by bacterial infection of the placental site -.the large raw area on the interior of the uterus - or the lacerations of the birth canal, especially likely after a long and difficult labour.
Henry was with his wife to the end and seemed genuinely grief-stricken by her death. Jane was given a state funeral, with the Princess Mary, who had lost an influential friend, acting as chief mourner. She was buried in St. George's Chapel at Windsor and was the first and, as it turned out, the only one of Henry's wives to be buried as Queen. Perhaps this was fair. She was, after all, the only one who fulfilled her side of the bargain to his satisfaction.
5. THE FRAILNESS OF YOUNG WOMEN
Henry embarked on the second half of his matrimonial marathon at the end of 1539, after an intensive two-year search for a bride round the Courts of Europe. Threatened with the danger of encirclement by hostile Catholic powers, England urgently needed friends abroad, but unfortunately the King of England's reputation as a husband was not now such as to reassure the parents of marriageable daughters. He had, after all, had one wife publicly put to death; while it was freely rumoured in certain circles that he'd disposed of Catherine of Aragon by poison and callously allowed Jane Seymour to be lost 'for lack of keeping in her childbed'. In the circumstances, it was not surprising that at least one strong-minded princess should have spurned the doubtful privilege of becoming wife number four, though there is, unhappily, no authority for the story that Christina of Milan rejected Henry's flattering proposal on the grounds that she had only one head.
Negotiations with foreign royalty were further hampered by the King's determination to inspect their daughters personally, instead of following the normal diplomatic practice of trusting to portrait-painters and the reports of ambassadors. His insensitive attempt to stage what amounted to a 'Miss Queen of England' contest at Calais from among a shortlist of French candidates provoked a stinging rebuke from King François. It was not the custom of his country, remarked that monarch coldly, to send young ladies of good family to be passed in review like horses for sale. Was this, enquired his ambassador, how the knights of the Round Table had treated their womenfolk? And Henry was, for once, reduced to silence.
The quest ended at last in the north Rhineland duchy of Cleves on the Dutch-German border with the twenty-three-year-old sister of the reigning duke - a rather curious choice in view of ambassador Nicholas Wootton's reports. Anne of Cleves had, it seemed, been strictly brought-up and spent most of her time at her needlework. She could read and write, but knew no French or Latin or indeed any language except her native German, though Wootton thought she was intelligent enough to learn English quite quickly if she put her mind to it. More seriously, she could not sing or play any instrument, for, the ambassador explained, 'they take it here in Germany for a rebuke and an occasion of lightness that great ladies should be learned or have any knowledge of music'. And he added that he 'could never hear that she is inclined to the good cheer of this country'. None of this makes Anne sound a particularly suitable bride for Henry VIII, nor, contrary to legend, does the miniature painted by Hans Holbein portray any great beauty. However, in view of the increasingly serious international situation, Henry could not afford to be too choosy. An alliance in the emerging 'third world' of non-aligned north European states would be undeniably valuable - especially at a time when France and Spain were, temporarily at least, presenting a united front. So the marriage contract was signed, and Anne of Cleves landed at the port of Deal on 27 December 1539.
The story of the King's acute and freely expressed disappointment on first seeing his betrothed is perhaps sufficiently well known, but whether poor Anne was really so very unattractive may be open to some doubt. Certainly the face which looks out of Holbein's miniature is by no means without charm, and compared with, say, the portrait of Queen Jane Seymour, her successor would seem to have little to be ashamed of. According to the French ambassador, she looked older than her years -he put her down as being about thirty, was tall of stature, pitted with the smallpox and had little beauty. No one, which seems rather odd, had apparently thought fit to mention the matter of the smallpox scars to Henry, although it was a common enough defect at the time. Marillac went on to describe her countenance as 'determined and resolute', and although he admitted there was some show of vivacity in her expression, he considered it 'insufficient to counterbalance her want of beauty'.
Anne was a sturdy, big-boned, strong-featured young woman - a common enough Germanic type - but emphatically not a type admired by the sophisticates of London and Paris, and the stiff, clumsy German fashions she arrived in appeared grotesque to English eyes. All the same, Anne was not devoid of taste and was soon ordering plain black dresses of satin and damask to show off her jewellery, which seems to have been her only major extravagance. She was clearly anxious to please and adapted readily to English ways, more than fulfilling Nicholas Wootton's estimate of her ability to learn the language. She learned to play cards, too, and in spite of not being able to sing or play an instrument, her account books show that she was fond of music and also took an interest in gardens and gardening. Her first few weeks in England must have been particularly trying, since she can scarcely have failed to realize that she was being despised, but she carried off a difficult and humiliating situation with great natural dignity and composure. Given half a chance, there is no reason to suppose that this large, homely, serene and sensible girl would not have made the King a perfectly satisfactory wife.
But Henry made no attempt to overcome his initial aversion. Lacking the courage to do the honourable thing and send Anne straight home again, he went through with the wedding, complaining piteously that 'if it were not to satisfy the world and my realm, I would not do that I must do this day for none earthly thing'. But not even to satisfy the world and his realm could he bring himself to consummate the marriage, finding nothing in his bride 'to excite and provoke any lust in him'. He did, however, share her bed for a few nights, and the English matrons of the Queen's bedchamber questioned her hopefully about her condition. But when Anne told them that, when the King came to bed, 'he kisses me and taketh me by the hand and biddeth me "Goodnight, sweetheart"; and in the morning kisses me and biddeth me "Farewell, darling",' Lady Rochford burst out: 'Madam, there must be more than this, or it will be long ere we have a Duke of York.' 'Nay,' said Anne innocently, 'is not this enough? I am contented with this, for I know no more.'
No one, of course, supposed for a moment that the King would put up with the unsatisfactory state of his marital affairs for long, and the only question in most people's minds was how soon it would be before he took steps to extricate himself. The presence of a queen, after a two-year gap, had brought the girls to Court again and, although Anne's household was somewhat smaller than most of her predecessors' had been, there was the usual vigorous scrambling for places. Mistress Anne Basset, already established as a maid of honour, was urged by her ambitious mama to recommend her sister Katherine for a post among the Queen's maids and sent ajar of her mother's special quince preserve to offer the King as a sweetener. His Highness was graciously pleased to accept the gift and 'liked it wondrous well', but he was evidently not in any very approachable mood. Anne Basset summoned up the courage to speak for her sister, but she hesitated to address the matter or to mention certain other favours requested by her parents (there was no point in having a daughter at Court and not making use of her to further the family's interests), 'for fear how his Grace would take it'.
Katherine Basset evidently had to resign herself to staying where she was, in the service of the Countess of Rutland; but among the successful candi
dates for preferment with more influential relatives to pull strings on her behalf was the Duke of Norfolk's niece, young Katherine Howard, a vivacious, ripely attractive teenager. By Easter it was public knowledge that the King's volatile fancy had once more been captured, and the stage was set for a palace revolution led by the formidable Howard clan.
The disposal of Anne of Cleves proved unexpectedly painless.
The fact that she had once been tentatively betrothed to the Duke of Lorraine's son offered a convenient toehold for Henry's conscience, and by midsummer enough legal confusion had been created over the exact nature of this pre-contract to provide grounds for divorce. On 9 July Convocation unanimously pronounced the King's fourth marriage to be null and void, and four days later an obedient Parliament ratified the judgement of the clergy. The Supreme Head of the Church could reasonably expect the cooperation of his own bishops, but two additional factors had helped to smooth his path: one being that the fragile truce between the two great European power blocs was already breaking up, thus relieving England's isolation and making the German alliance expendable; while the other was the helpful attitude adopted by the Queen.
Henry had sent Anne down to Richmond in the middle of June, 'purposing it to be more for her health, open air and pleasure', though he himself remained to seek his pleasure in the capital, paying frequent visits to Mistress Katherine Howard at her grandmother's house in Lambeth. The Queen would not, of course, have understood all the ramifications of the power struggle currently in progress at Court (they remain more than somewhat obscure to this day), but she was certainly alarmed by the sudden arrest of Thomas Cromwell on a charge of high treason, which took place a few days before her own banishment. Cromwell had been the chief architect of the Cleves marriage, and Anne naturally regarded him in the light of a friend and mentor. Whether she was really afraid that she might soon be joining him in the Tower is difficult to say, but in the circumstances she could hardly be blamed for feeling nervous about her future. According to one account, she fell to the ground in a dead faint when a delegation headed by the Duke of Suffolk arrived at Richmond, believing they had come to arrest her. Her visitors, however, quickly reassured her. They had, on the contrary, been instructed to offer her what Henry considered generous terms in exchange for his freedom: an income of five hundred pounds a year, the use of two royal residences, with an adequate establishment, plus the position of the King's adopted sister with precedence over every other lady in the land except the next queen and the princesses.
Anne's immediate reaction was one of transparent relief, and she accepted with so much alacrity that Henry was surprised and even a trifle disconcerted. Some protestation, a few regretful tears, would, he felt, have been more appropriate in the face of such a sacrifice, and he insisted that Anne should write home at once, explaining how honourably she was being used and how willingly she had consented to the divorce. Until this letter had been written, Henry could not be easy in his mind, since all would depend on a woman's word, which, as any sensible man knew, meant little or nothing. It was in women's nature to be changeable, and so for a woman to promise 'that she will be no woman' was a contradiction in terms and could not be relied upon.
Anne showed no sign whatever of going back on her word, but she wrote obediently to her brother, telling him that the King, whom she could not justly have as her husband, had shown himself a most kind, loving and friendly father and brother, and had so provided for her. It was her wish, she went on, that the knot of amity concluded between their two countries should remain unbroken, and she ended: 'Only I require this of you, that ye so conduct yourself as for your untowardness in this matter I fare not the worse, whereunto I trust you will have regard.' Having dissolved their marriage, Henry had, of course, no shadow of right to keep his ex-wife in England, and he was, in effect, holding her hostage for the good behaviour of her brother and the other German princes. The Duke of Cleves was naturally not at all pleased by the turn events had taken and was anxious for his sister's return, but he and his ambassador could do little in the face of her repeated assurances that she only wished to please the King her lord, that she was being well treated and wanted to stay in England. 'God willing,' she wrote, 'I purpose to lead my life in this realm.'
Anne has often been dismissed as dull and spiritless for her meek acceptance of Henry's rejection, but her situation was totally different from that of Catherine of Aragon, and in any case the alternatives open to her were strictly limited. Had she attempted to fight the case, she would inevitably have lost it. Had she insisted on going home, she would have forfeited her alimony, and having now seen something of a wider world and the pleasures it had to offer, the prospect of returning penniless to her needlework in the narrow confines of the ducal palace at Cleves offered little attraction. She had escaped from one loveless and frightening marriage and seems to have had no inclination to try again; besides which, there was no guarantee that any other European power would recognize her English divorce. On the other hand, by accepting Henry's terms and staying on in England, she would keep a measure of financial independence and social status in a country whose people and customs she clearly found congenial. Anne evidently considered that she was getting a fair bargain and, like a sensible woman, settled down to make the best of it. Indeed, she made the most of it. In September the French ambassador reported that 'Madame of Cleves has a more joyous countenance than ever. She wears a great variety of dresses and passes all her time in sports and recreations.'
Meanwhile the King had taken his fifth wife.
Katherine Howard was in her late teens at the time of her marriage, the youngest of a family of ten children and an orphan. Her father, Lord Edmund Howard, a younger brother of the Duke of Norfolk, had been something of a ne'er-do-well, and her mother, Joyce Culpeper, had died when her youngest daughter was quite a small child. Although Lord Edmund married again, most of Joyce's family were brought up by their Howard grandmother, along with a whole tribe of Howard cousins and connections. This was in accordance with the common practice of farming out one's children, but in Lord Edmund's case it no doubt also helped to ease his chronic financial distress.
The modern trend was towards smaller households, more supervision and regulation, and greater privacy for the family; but Agnes, Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, was something of a survival from an earlier, more casual age, and her establishments at Horsham in Sussex and at Lambeth were run on generously mediaeval lines. Upwards of a hundred persons (her ladyship herself could probably not have put an exact number to them) crowded under her various roofs - family, hangers-on, poor relations, children, secretaries, tutors, servants, servants' servants, servants' families and friends - all eating, sleeping, working or not working, gambling, playing, quarrelling and making love in cheerful, insanitary propinquity. Katherine Howard and her cousins shared the maids' dormitory (two or three to a bed) with the dowager's waiting gentlewomen and what might loosely be described as the upper female servants, drawn chiefly from the daughters of the neighbouring gentry who regarded the Duchess as their natural patron. This was not an unusual arrangement - a bed to oneself, let alone a bedroom to oneself, was a luxury enjoyed only by the very greatest personages - and communal living was still accepted as the norm by most people.
Katherine was about ten years old when she came under her grandmother's care, to learn obedience, good manners, some social graces and the rudiments of household management; enough, in short, to fit her for marriage to the husband who would in due course be chosen by the family - perhaps some rising man at Court whom it would be useful to attach to the Howard interest. She was taught to read and write, but the dowager had no patience with any new-fangled notions about higher education for women and, besides, Katherine was not academically inclined. A pretty child, but bird-brained and barely literate, she grew naturally into an empty-headed adolescent, one of a bevy of giggling, chattering girls who thought of precious little but clothes, young men and how to squeeze as much fun as possible out
of life before they were inexorably claimed by marriage and the painful drudgery of child-bearing. The Duchess was not deliberately neglectful of her responsibilities, but she was a busy woman, not over-gifted with imagination, and saw no reason to pay special attention to her orphaned grand-daughter. The child was getting a Christian upbringing among her kinsfolk and all the education that was good for her. She was no worse off in that respect than any of her contemporaries and would have to take her chance with the rest.
Katherine took her first chance when she was fourteen or so. She may not have possessed much in the way of intellectual equipment, but she was fully aware of her own developing body and of its effect on the opposite sex - especially on one Henry Manox, who had recently come to Horsham to give the young ladies music lessons. Katherine Howard learned more from Henry Manox than how to strike graceful chords on the lute and virginals, and they were soon making assignations to meet in unfrequented corners, where Manox became familiar with the 'secret parts' of Mistress Katherine's body. The Duchess caught them at it on at least one occasion, but she didn't seem unduly disturbed, merely scolding the guilty pair and giving orders that they were never to be left alone in future. In spite of this, the romance continued for a while, the young people exchanging messages and tokens via sympathetic third parties - a traffic which, of course, soon led to rumours of an engagement between them. Manox, in fact, was growing so confident of Katherine's affection that he boasted openly that she had promised him her maidenhead, 'though it be painful to her'. This piece of indiscretion prompted a stern warning from Mary Lassells, the Duchess's chamberer, who told him plainly that he was asking for trouble. The Howards might take a tolerant view of a bit of youthful kissing and fumbling, but they would certainly not permit one of their kinswomen to tie herself up to a mere music teacher, and if Manox persisted, he would find himself undone.
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