by Alison Weir
Katherine was occupied just then with a second book,The Lamentations of a Sinner,which was a theological discourse on faith and the proper behaviour of Christians. Its author protested, in her introduction, that she had 'but a simple zeal and earnest love to the truth, inspired of God, who promised to pour His spirit upon all flesh, which I have by the Grace of God felt in myself to be true'. The book was largely an attack on popery, and its central theme was the comparison between Moses leading the people of Israel out of Egypt and Henry VIII freeing his subjects from the iniquity of Rome. In it Katherine also put forth her views on the conduct of her own sex:
If they be women married, they learn of St Paul to be obedient to their husbands and to keep silence in the congregation, and to learn of their husbands at home. Also, that they wear such apparel as becometh holiness and comely usage with soberness, not being accusers or detractors, nor given to much eating of delicate meats or drinking of wine; but that they touch honest things, to make the young women sober-minded, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, housewifely and good, that the Word of God may not be evil spoken of.
Such views reflected exactly the King's own opinions on the role of women within the natural order of things; he was greatly impressed by the book, and even a little jealous, taking as he did great pride in his own learning, and finding it disconcerting to wonder if a mere woman could possibly be as clever as he was.
Trouble was already brewing for Katherine. In February 1546, the King was informed that the heretic Anne Askew had implicated the Queen in a new confession. Further questioning showed that she had not even mentioned Katherine Parr, but the incident was enough to prove to Katherine that her enemies were poised to attack. There is no contemporary evidence to prove that the Queen had anything to do with Anne Askew, and the only authorities for it date from the Elizabethan era. Robert Parsons, in hisTreatise of Three Conversions of England,published in 1603, says that Katherine received heretical books sent by Anne, and that her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Herbert, Lady Lane, Lady Tyrwhitt and others, were party to this. John Foxe, in hisActs and Monuments,published in 1563, tells another story, giving his source as one or more of these ladies.
Foxe gives no date for the events he describes, but if they happened at all, it must have been during the summer of 1546, probably in July. In June, the King gave his permission for Anne Askew to be examined again for heresy in the Tower. Lord Chancellor Wriothesley was in chargeofthe interrogation, and he saw this chance as another to incriminate the Queen. When Anne Askew proved obdurate, he ordered her to be put on the rack, and, with Sir Richard Rich, personally conducted the examination. Anne Askew later dictated an account of the proceedings, in which she testified to being questioned as to whether she knew anything about the beliefs of the ladies of the Queen's household. She replied that she knew nothing. It was put to her that she had received gifts from these ladies, but she denied it. For her obstinacy, she was racked for a long time, but bravely refused to cry out, and when she swooned with the pain, the Lord Chancellor himself brought her round, and with his own hands turned the wheelsofthe machine, Rich assisting. Afterwards, Anne's broken body was laid on the bare floor, and Wriothesley sat there for two hours longer, questioning her about her heresy and her suspected involvement with the royal household. All in vain. Anne refused to deny her Protestant faith, and would not or could not implicate anyone near the Queen. On 18 June, she was arraigned at the Guildhall in London, and sentenced to death. She was burned at the stake on 16 July at Smithfield, along with John Lascelles, another Protestant, he who had first alerted Cranmer to Katherine Howard's pre-marital activities. Anne died bravely and quickly: the bagofgunpowder hung about her neck by a humane executioner to facilitate a quick end exploded almost immediately. If Katherine Parr was grieved by Anne Askew's death, she dared not show it. Like everyone else, she had been horrified to learn that the heretic had been carried to her execution on a chair as her legs were useless after the racking. Yet she kept her thoughts to herself, knowing that if it were to be discovered by her enemies that she shared Anne's views, then she too might face the flames. Foxe tells us that at this time Henry was feeling a little jaded with his marriage because the Queen had not conceived in three years; he had also heard complaints from his councillors about her interference in matters of religion. Hitherto, he had heartily approved of the strong religious bias in his wife's household. He was pleased to see Katherine spending so much time studying the Scriptures and discussing them with learned divines, and he enjoyed their debates on the subject. Now, it seemed that Katherine was going a little too far, becoming over-zealous and exhorting her husband 'that as he had to his eternal fame begun a good work in banishing the monstrous idol of Rome, so he would finish the same, purging his Church of England clean from the dregs thereof. Where else could this lead, some were wondering, but to a Protestant state? Even Henry did not like it, and grew very stern and opinionated whenever the subject was raised. Foxe says his affection for Katherine cooled, though this is nowhere borne out by contemporary sources. Be that as it may, the Catholic party smelled a Protestant rat that was heralding the destruction of everything they held dear; until now, they had not dared to broach the matter with the King, because of his obvious love and esteem for the Queen, but now they saw their chance, and were looking daily for an opportunity to discredit her in Henry's eyes. Gardiner knew, better than most, that Henry hated being contradicted in any argument. In the past it had galled the Bishop to see the King being corrected by his wife, but now he perceived that Henry himself was becoming irritated with her arguments. Encroaching infirmity made him peevish and impatient; he ceased making his daily visits to his wife's apartments, and it was left to Katherine to decide whether or not to brave his black moods and go and sit with him after dinner or supper. At these times, her enthusiasm more often than not got the better of her, and she persisted in urging the King to carry his reforms still further.
The day came when Henry had had enough and rudely cut short what the Queen was saying and changed the subject, which left Katherine somewhat amazed. However, once the conversation had been steered to less contentious matters, Henry was his old self again 'with gentle words and loving countenance'. When it was time for the Queen to leave, he said, 'Farewell, Sweetheart', and Katherine left the room, little knowing that her enemies were about to pounce.
Bishop Gardiner had been within earshot of that conversation, and he seized his chance when the King began to grumble about her behaviour. 'A good hearing it is, when women become such clerks, and much to my comfort to come in mine old age to be taught by my wife!' he fumed. The Bishop soothed his sovereign's vanity by replying that 'his Majesty excelled the princes of that and every other age, as well as all the professed doctors of divinity', and then poured oil on troubled waters by saying that it was unseemly for any of his subjects to argue with him so malapertly as the Queen had just done; that it was grievous for any of his Councillors to hear it done, since those who were so bold in words would not scruple to proceed to acts of disobedience.
He added significantly that he could make great discoveries if he were not deterred by the Queen's powerful faction. Besides this, the religion by the Queen maintained did not only dissolve the politic government of princes, but also taught the people that all things ought to be in common.
In fact, according to Foxe, Gardiner spared no efforts in persuading the King 'that his Majesty should easily perceive how perilous a matter it is to cherish a serpent within his own bosom', and reminded him that 'the greatest subjects in the land, defending those arguments that she did defend, had by law deserved death. For his part, he would not speak his knowledge in the Queen's case,' because to do so might bring about his own destruction 'through her and her faction', unless the King agreed to give him his protection.
Henry was incredulous at the Bishop's words, but his suspicious nature allowed him to believe that the matter was indeed a serious one, otherwise Gardiner would never have
dared to be outspoken. In one clever stroke, the Bishop had managed to convince him that his wife was at the centre of a heretical conspiracy to bring down traditional forms of government, and that she was supported by many influential people at court. This was enough to set all the alarm bells ringing in the King's head, and he questioned Gardiner closely on the matter, remaining closeted with him for some time. When they parted, the triumphant Bishop came away with the knowledge that Henry had consented to articles being drawn up against the Queen, with a view to putting her on trial for her life, 'which the King pretended to be fully resolved to spare'. Gardiner was to provide the proof that was needed to support his accusations.
Foxe seems to be saying here that Henry was playing a double game, and it does seem that he was reserving his judgement until all was made clear. Yet the peril in which the Queen and her ladies now stood was very real, and this was made obvious to them when the Council ordered the arrests of Lady Herbert, Katherine's sister, Lady Lane and Lady Tyrwhitt, her three favourite ladies-in-waiting. They were interrogated about the books they had, and whether the Queen kept forbidden reading matter in her closet, and their coffers were searched in the hope that proof of the Queen's heresy might be discovered. Then they were released. The King knew all this, and seemed content for it to be done.
Henry was then at Whitehall Palace with the court. Because of his health, he did not often leave his rooms, and only a few privileged members of the Privy Council were allowed access to him. Through them, he let it be known that he was agreeable to a warrant being drawn up for the Queen's arrest, should there be any suspicion of heresy. Katherine guessed nothing of this, and heedlessly continued to engage the King in religious debates. He allowed her to do this, for he was now on the alert for a sinister meaning to her arguments, and was carefully weighing every word she said. It appears he was not yet completely convinced of her guilt, and late one night, when Katherine had gone, he confided all his suspicions to his physician, Dr Thomas Wendy, who had replaced Dr Butts on the latter's death in November 1545. Henry pretended 'he intended no longer to be troubled with such a doctress as she was,' and told the Doctor what was afoot, swearing him to secrecy.
When a warrant for Katherine Parr's arrest was drawn up, the King signed it, and it was entrusted to an unnamed member of the Privy Council who fortuitously dropped it. A servant loyal to the Queen found it and brought it straight to her, and Katherine found herself confronting her doom. There was the King's signature: there could be no mistake. Her reaction was instantaneous and dramatic, her agony of mind manifesting itself in tears and hysterical screaming, which was 'lamentable to see', as her ladies remembered many years later. She was distraught with terror, recalling the fate of Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard and realising that, on a charge of heresy, her death would be much more horrible than theirs. In her grief and fear, she took to her bed, shaking and wailing. Her cries could be heard throughout the palace, and even penetrated the King's apartments. Henry, little realising what was the matter, sent Dr Wendy and other physicians to her to try and calm her down. Wendy guessed that the Queen had somehow found out what was afoot, and sent the other doctors away. He then told her what he knew and warned her that Gardiner and Wriothesley were plotting her downfall; she should 'conform herself to the King's mind', he advised, then she might find him 'favourable unto her'.
Wendy's words afforded the Queen little comfort. Still she lay, weeping and crying, her self-control shattered. Eventually, the King, learning of her 'dangerous state', went to her himself. At the sight of him, Katherine calmed down a little, and managed to say that she feared he had grown displeased with her and utterly forsaken her. She was so obviously sincere in her grief that Henry was deeply touched and, 'like a loving husband, with comfortable words so refreshed her careful mind that she began somewhat to recover'. Henry stayed with her an hour, and when he had gone, Katherine made up her mind to cease interfering in matters of religion and to forbid her ladies to dabble in heresy. She ordered them to get rid of any forbidden books in their possession, and made it clear that from now on her chief priority was to conform to her husband's wishes. That night, accompanied only by her sister and Lady Lane, who carried a candle before her, she made her way to the King's bedchamber, where she found Henry chatting with his gentlemen. When he saw Katherine, he welcomed her courteously, and after a while he brought up the subject of religion, 'seeming desirous to be resolved by the Queen of certain doubts'. Katherine, guessing what game he was playing, gave meek and dutiful answers, saying, 'So God hath appointed you, as Supreme Head of us all, and of you, next unto God, will I ever learn.' But Henry was not that easily mollified. 'Not so, by St Mary!' he cried. 'Ye are become a doctor, Kate, to instruct us, as oftentime we have seen, and not to be instructed or directed by us.' Katherine protested her meaning had been mistaken, 'for I have always held it preposterous for a woman to instruct her lord'. If she had ever differed with him on religion, she went on, it was only for her own information, and also because she realised that talking helped to pass away the pain and weariness of your present infirmity, which encouraged me in this boldness, in the hope of profiting withal by your Majesty's learned discourse. I am but a woman, with all the imperfections natural to the weakness of my sex; therefore in all matters of doubt and difficulty I must refer myself to your Majesty's better judgement, as to my lord and head.
This was a masterful speech, and a triumph of diplomacy, and the King was deeply impressed - if not a little relieved - by it. 'Is it so, sweetheart?' he replied. 'And tended your arguments to no worse end? Then we are perfect friends, as ever at any time heretofore.' Katherine's sense of relief may be imagined: a crisis had been averted and the King was once more her loving husband. Again she sat beside him as he took her in his arms and kissed her before everyone present; then he told her it did him more good to hear those words from her own mouth than if he had heard news of 100,000 coming his way. Never again, he promised, would he doubt her. It was late in the night when he finally gave her leave to depart, and when she had gone he praised her highly to his gentlemen.
Henry was shrewd enough to guess why Gardiner and his party wanted the Queen out of the way, and had known all along what game the Bishop was playing. Now that he had ample proof of the Queen's loyalty, he was very much looking forward to discountenancing them. Katherine's servant had been careful to replace the warrant for the Queen's arrest where she had found it; it was quickly retrieved by the councillor, and on the afternoon following the royal couple's reconciliation, Lord Chancellor Wriothesley prepared to use it, knowing nothing of the events of the previous night.
On that afternoon, the King made sure that the Queen joined him to take the air in the palace gardens, where he was 'as pleasant as ever he was in all his life'. Suddenly, in the midst of their laughter, the Lord Chancellor arrived, with forty of the King's guards at his heels, intending to escort the Queen to the Tower with her three ladies, who were also present. Wriothesley was nonplussed at finding his master and mistress so happily engaged, then the King, looking very stern, got up and walked off a little way, calling his Chancellor after him. Wriothesley fell to his knees and began to explain why he was there, but he was brutally cut short by Henry, who shouted 'Knave! Arrant knave! Beast! Fool!', and ordered him out of his presence. Everyone stared at the discomfited Chancellor as he and his men scuttled away. Henry strode back to the Queen; she could see he was in a fury, although he was struggling to 'put on a merry countenance', and innocently enquired what was wrong, saying charitably that she would be a suitor for the Lord Chancellor, 'as she deemed his fault was occasioned by some mistake'. To which her husband replied, 'Ah, poor soul, thou little knoweth Kate how little he deserveth this grace at thy hands. On my word, sweetheart, he hath been to thee a very knave, so let him go.' Katherine wisely held her peace. She knew very well what Wriothesley had come for, and that she had had a lucky escape.
She had learned her lesson and would from then on act the meek and dutiful wife. Th
ere would be no breath of heresy in her household, and she would comport herself with greater circumspection than ever, giving her enemies no room for criticism. She would confine herself to corresponding with men of letters such as Roger Ascham, pursuing her intellectual interests and charities, and overseeing the education of her stepchildren. Prince Edward wrote to her that August, saying that her letters and the 'excellence of your genius' made him sick of his own writing: 'But then I think how kind your nature is, and that whatever proceeds from a good mind will be acceptable, and so I write you this letter.' It seemed an age since he had seen her, he added.
August was a busy month for Katherine. On the 24th, Claude d'Annebaut, Admiral of France, visited the court as a consequence of a new treaty of peace between Henry VIII and Francis I. He was entertained with the usual banquets and hunting forays; in the evenings, rich masques were staged for his pleasure and that of Queen Katherine and her ladies, after which there was dancing in two new banqueting houses hung with rich tapestries and furnished with court cupboards containing gold plate set with precious stones.
After the Admiral had returned to France, the King and Queen went on a short progress, even though the King's health was now noticeably failing. His leg was paining him more than ever and, although he preferred to make light of his suffering, it showed in his face. He could no longer walk up or down stairs, and a mechanical hoist was needed to assist him. Norfolk told van der Delft that the King 'could not long endure'. Soon, he could barely walk at all, and an order was given for two chairs (called trams), covered in tawny velvet, 'for the King's Majesty to sit in to be carried to and from in his galleries and chambers'. His councillors believed his illness was incurable and would soon kill him, and were already plotting, each and every one, to gain control of the Prince.
