Between 1373 and 1377 Catherine bore John of Gaunt four children, who were given the surname ‘Beaufort’.12 The couple’s relationship was seen as insulting to John of Gaunt’s second wife, Constance of Castile, and some historians interpret the surviving evidence to mean that in 1381 Gaunt was forced by public opinion to distance himself from Catherine, who then retired both from her post as governess, and from Gaunt’s household.13 However, even if they officially parted for a time it is nevertheless likely that their relationship continued in secret.
When Constance of Castile died, John of Gaunt caused even greater general astonishment – and not a little disapproval – by marrying Catherine. The marriage was not secret but, not surprisingly, it was regarded in some quarters as a mésalliance. However, the marriage led to the legitimisation of the couple’s Beaufort children.14 Ironically it is through the Beaufort family that the Plantagenet royal dynasty now has its only living descendants in an all-male line – albeit via a double illegitimacy. These modern male descendants do not bear either the surname ‘Plantagenet’ or the surname ‘Beaufort’, however. They are the Somerset family, whose head is the Duke of Beaufort.
Through the marriage of John of Gaunt and Catherine de Roët, and the consequent legitimisation of the bastard Beauforts, one of the key elements leading to the ultimate establishment of the later royal house known as the ‘Tudors’ was set in place. It was through their descent from the legitimised Beauforts that these Tudors would derive their highly questionable claim to the English Crown. The second key factor in the creation of the royal Tudors came about as a result of another dubious royal relationship in the following century. This is one of the stories which we shall explore in our next chapter.
Meanwhile it is worth noting that, although it was at first regarded askance, the marriage of Catherine to John of Gaunt eventually became almost universally accepted. Catherine de Roët seems to have handled her potentially tricky situation with an impressive degree of skill and tact. Indeed, after his accession King Henry IV (whose father was John of Gaunt, but whose mother had been Blanche of Lancaster, not Catherine de Roët) treated Catherine with great respect. He even referred to her in writing as ‘the king’s mother’.
8
SECRET WEDDINGS
AND WITCHCRAFT IN
THE HOUSE OF LANCASTER
* * *
There was a Beldame called the wytch of Ey,
Old mother Madge her neyghbours did hir name
Which wrought wonders in countryes by heresaye
Both feendes and fayries her charmyng would obay
And dead corpsis from grave she could uprere
Suche an inchauntresse, as that tyme had no peere.1
William Baldwin & George Ferrers,
The Mirror for Magistrates, ed. L.B. Campbell
* * *
Novel features observed in relationships and marriages at the court of Edward III were to recur in the fifteenth century. The first such feature was the accusation of witchcraft levelled at the king’s mistress, Alice Salisbury. In the course of the fifteenth century similar accusations were to be levelled at four powerful court ladies, not to mention one other royal mistress.2 The second feature was the penchant for secret royal marriages, which we observed among some of Edward III’s children.
During the fifteenth century several more clandestine marriages took place in the Lancastrian royal family, which ruled England from 1399 until 1460.3 This was despite the fact that the three Lancastrian kings all had classic royal consorts – the daughters of foreign monarchs. On several occasions in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century royal history, the two features of clandestine marriage coupled with the accusation of witchcraft would appear in conjunction, as we shall see in this and the following two chapters. The process reached a kind of climax towards the end of the fifteenth century, when the problem inherent in the secret marriage was to make itself felt with a vengeance, causing major disruptions for the royal house of York.4 First, however, we shall review the witchcraft accusations and the secret marriage allegations relating to the Lancastrian dynasty.
The concept and image of a witch have varied considerably over the last six hundred years or so. The supposed ‘traditional picture’ was of an ugly woman with black robes and a tall black hat, riding on a broomstick. But recent iconography has included much less threatening depictions such as that of the attractive Elizabeth Montgomery in the twentieth-century American television series Bewitched.
Medieval depictions lay somewhere between the two. For much of the medieval period witches were the local wise women who had some knowledge of herbs and of healing. Surviving late medieval woodcuts depict such women in a fairly non-threatening way. In Plate 2, for example, two witches are shown adding herbs and other ingredients to a cauldron to produce a potion.
However, throughout Europe, from the fourteenth century onwards the picture seems to have been changing, as the Church began to produce anti-witch propaganda in an attempt to stamp out the phenomenon. We should also remember that, while every period has tended to associate witchcraft chiefly with the female of the species, there has also been a belief in male equivalents – such as the Dominican friar whom we have already encountered, who was accused of aiding Alice Salisbury.
As we have already seen, by the second half of the fourteenth century, an accusation of witchcraft could be a useful tool in the hands of enemies. It offered an effective means of attacking a person who was otherwise in a powerful position. It is possible that the witchcraft accusation laid against Alice Salisbury was nothing more than a clever way of attacking a powerful woman. At the same time, however, one should not rule out the possibility that, on some occasions at least, a woman in a powerful but insecure position may genuinely have sought to make use of witchcraft for her own ends, in an attempt to protect herself or to make herself more secure.
Both in the Middle Ages and today, one encounters varying attitudes to witchcraft. While many people may view the phenomenon as a myth, there are certainly believers, and such believers – whether they were opponents or supporters of witchcraft – were probably more numerous in the past. Thus some accusations of witchcraft were probably made in the genuine belief that the black arts were being practiced. Moreover, in at least some historical instances there is clear evidence that this was indeed the case.
The most interesting and best documented example of an authentic case of witchcraft involved a royal mistress – Athénais de Montespan – at the French court during the reign of Louis XIV. Actually there had been much earlier accusations of witchcraft at the French court. In the late fourteenth century Queen Isabeau of Bavaria accused her sister-in-law, Valentina Visconti, of causing the madness of Isabeau’s husband, King Charles VI, by witchcraft. Subsequently, in the early sixteenth century, accusations of witchcraft were levelled against the queen mother, Catherine de Medici. In Valentina’s case the accusation may merely have been part of a power struggle, but in Catherine’s case there was certainly a real – and probably justified – suspicion that she made use of potions and poisons. Both of these earlier French royal reputed witches were Italian foreigners, which may have helped to prejudice French opinion against them!
Later, however, Mme de Montespan undoubtedly took part in black masses and used a number of revolting potions on her royal lover in an attempt to retain his favour. Her involvement – and the cause of the king’s repeated headaches – was revealed in 1677 when her associate, a witch called La Voisin, was arrested and prosecuted. The black masses in which Mme de Montespan participated involved child sacrifice. They were celebrated on the naked body of a woman – perhaps Mme de Montespan herself. At the solemn moment of consecration a child’s throat was cut, and its blood was drained into the chalice, while a prayer to Ashtaroth and Asmodea was said, asking that the king’s love for Mme de Montespan should continue. Mme de Montespan herself escaped any severe punishment for her involvement in these practices, but La Voisin was burned at the stake for her activiti
es.
At the English court, too, accusations of witchcraft were made on several occasions. In fact in the late medieval and early modern period such accusations surfaced more frequently in England than in France. We have already noted the case of Edward III’s mistress, Alice Salisbury, in the late fourteenth century. In the fifteenth century similar accusations were made against two royal duchesses, Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester and Jacquette, Duchess of Bedford, and against two English queens consort, Joanna of Navarre and Elizabeth Woodville. English queens could wear their hair down, and exposed, at a time when most respectable women were required to cover their heads. It is interesting, therefore, to note that one feature of medieval witchcraft was that sorceresses also traditionally ‘let their hair down’ (literally) while making incantations.5 The accusations continued into the sixteenth century, when charges of witchcraft were levelled at Queen Anne Boleyn. We shall review the cases against Queen Joanna and the Duchess of Gloucester presently. The evidence against the Duchess of Bedford, Elizabeth Woodville and Anne Boleyn will emerge in later chapters.
Not all the English royal cases of alleged witchcraft are as well documented as the one at the court of Louis XIV, and it is sometimes difficult now to assess whether the women concerned were genuinely suspected of using the black arts, or whether this was just a convenient means of trying to bring them down. It is even more difficult to be sure whether the women themselves really had engaged in any activities which could have been described as witchcraft or whether they were totally innocent. In some of the cases, however, as we shall see, there do seem to be grounds for believing that, like Mme de Montespan, the English royal ladies really did resort to the use of spells and potions.
The nature of the activities in which witches were supposed to be involved varied considerably. We have already seen that close physical contact could be interpreted as a kind of love spell. However, the use of potions and incantations was also a common feature. Details of some medieval European love spells do survive. Often potions involved the use of ingredients such as honey or mead (for sweetness), combined with herbs such as vervain or mandrake root, and sometimes rose petals. Such ingredients would be pleasant enough to the taste. However, sometimes body parts of the person seeking love were included. Pubic hair was especially favoured for this purpose.6 The sexual organs of animals were sometimes incorporated in love potions, while menstrual blood seems to have been a popular ingredient for women who were attempting to win the affections of a man. Surviving records of sixteenth-century Venetian witch trials are revealing. ‘In 1588 the courtesan Paolina de Rossi was accused of having asked her servant to put her menstrual blood into the wine of Gian Battista Giustiniani, in order to gain his passion. She mixed it with sage to make the drink more powerful’. Likewise ‘Veronica Cattanea mixed her menstrual blood with leaves of belladonna to arouse love in a man’.7 Belladonna (deadly nightshade) contains hallucinogenic agents, as do henbane and mandrake which were also used in medieval love magic. Sometimes the consecrated host and the consecrated wine from Mass were defiled by being used in love spells. So too were holy water, holy oil and consecrated candles. ‘During 1499 Bernadina Stadera was accused to have desecrated three hosts writing magical words on them, probably with blood.’8
The ingredients of a potion were traditionally boiled together in a pot or cauldron, possibly on a specific day that was considered well-omened. One recipe specifies that its love potion should be brewed on a Friday, while the moon is waxing. During the brewing of the potion a spell may also have been uttered. One short example runs as follows:
GODDESS OF LOVE
HEAR MY PLEA
LET [lover’s name] DESIRE ME!
Surviving love incantations from late medieval and early modern Italy invoke the stars, the prophet Daniel and St Martha.9
One particularly revolting love spell reportedly condemned by the Church in the tenth and eleventh centuries required the woman seeking love to insert a live fish in her vagina, and retain it there until it was dead. She must then cook it and serve it to her desired lover.10 During the cooking the addition of other ingredients regarded as aphrodisiac was strongly recommended. For the wealthy sorceress, wine, saffron and cardamom were considered suitable additions. For those who preferred a cheaper spell, more readily available herbs such as parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme were thought to be equally efficacious. As the traditional song Scarborough Fair still dimly reflects, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme were generally considered effective components of love potions.11
We shall return to the specific accusation of witchcraft against English royal women shortly. First, however, there is another point to consider. In addition to fifteenth- and sixteenth-century accusations of witchcraft against royal ladies, several further clandestine and love marriages occurred in the royal family at the end of the fourteenth century and in the first half of the fifteenth century. All but one of these involved junior royalty, and none of them was bigamous. The first case, however, caused something of a scandal. It centred on Elizabeth of Lancaster, the younger daughter of John of Gaunt by his first wife, Blanche of Lancaster.
Elizabeth, who was brought up by her father’s future mistress and ultimate third wife, Catherine de Roët, has been described as headstrong. Certainly she seems to have been governed by her passions, and to have been somewhat free of moral restraint. In June 1380 Elizabeth was betrothed to John Hastings, third Earl of Pembroke. At the time of the betrothal Elizabeth was 17 years old while her future husband was only 8. Perhaps not surprisingly under the circumstances, Elizabeth seems to have been less than enthralled by the proposed marriage, and in the course of the next five or six years she began to seek elsewhere the sexual fulfilment which her boy bridegroom was too young to provide. She was seduced by her relative, Sir John Holland – the elder half-brother of Richard II (being a son of Joan of Kent by her earlier marriage).
Elizabeth’s relationship with John Holland was clearly sexual, because by the beginning of 1386 she found herself pregnant. Fortunately her father showed understanding of her predicament. The marriage (still unconsummated) with the Earl of Pembroke was annulled, and on 24 June 1386, Elizabeth of Lancaster and Sir John Holland were married at Plymouth. Holland was subsequently created first Duke of Exeter, and the couple went on to have five children.
In 1400, following the usurpation of Elizabeth’s brother, Henry IV, her husband became implicated in the ‘Epiphany Rising’ against the new king. He was arrested and later executed. But Elizabeth of Lancaster was not the sort of woman to retire into a cloister or spend her time in quiet widowhood. A few months later she married again. Her new husband was Sir John Cornwall, first Baron Fanhope and Milbroke. He and Elizabeth appear to have enjoyed a happy marriage, and in due course two further children were born.
The marriage of Elizabeth’s brother, Henry IV, with Joanna of Navarre was certainly no secret, but reputedly it was based on love rather than politics. Joanna was born in about 1370, the daughter of King Charles II of Navarre. Her first marriage had been with the Duke of Brittany, to whom she had borne several children prior to his decease in 1399.
In England, 1399 was also the year that marked the deposition of King Richard II by his cousin Henry of Lancaster (the eldest son of John of Gaunt by his first wife, Blanche). Henry’s claim to succeed Richard was not undisputed – either at the time or subsequently.12 Nevertheless, Parliament was persuaded to enthrone the Lancastrian prince with the title Henry IV. At the time of his accession the new king was a widower, with several living sons. In spite of this, he decided to remarry, choosing as his queen consort the widowed Duchess of Brittany. Although this wedding might have the appearance of an arranged, political union, actually the marriage was probably a love match. Henry had met the widowed Joanna during his exile from Richard II’s England, and had apparently fallen in love with her. He and Joanna were married five days after the Feast of Candlemas, on 7 February 1403, and for the next ten years Joanna of Navarre was Queen Consort
of England. The marriage, however, remained childless.
Ostensibly Joanna was on good terms with her stepchildren, Henry IV’s sons by his first wife. In particular she was thought to enjoy a cordial relationship with the future Henry V, because in his frequent arguments with his father Joanna tended to support ‘Prince Hal’. It therefore caused some astonishment when, in 1419, six years after Henry V’s accession, the queen dowager (as Joanna then was) was accused of having used witchcraft in an attempt to poison him. This accusation against Joanna was brought by one of her own confessors. The evidence was insubstantial, and Joanna was probably innocent. Nevertheless, she was tried for the offence. Subsequently she was imprisoned for several years at Pevensey Castle. When Henry V was dying, however, he set her free.
On her release Joanna retired to Nottingham Castle, where she then lived very quietly. She subsequently had a good relationship with her stepgrandson, Henry VI, and when she finally died, in 1437, she received a royal burial at Canterbury Cathedral, where her body lies beside that of Henry IV, adjacent to the former site of the shrine of St Thomas Becket. However, Joanna never quite escaped the taint of what had happened. She was remembered by history as ‘the Witch Queen’.
Henry V’s brother, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester (1390–1447), engaged in two surreptitious unions. His first clandestine union was with Jacqueline of Hainaut. However, possibly more important was his second secret marriage, with Eleanor Cobham. This second secret wife was also to become the second Lancastrian royal lady to be accused of witchcraft.
Royal Marriage Secrets Page 8
