The Wives of Henry the Eighth and the Parts They Played in History

by Martin A. S. Hume

The fall of Cromwell had, as it was intended to do, provided Henry with a scapegoat. The spoliation and destruction of the religious houses, by which the King and many of the Catholic nobles had profited enormously, was laid to the dead man’s door; the policy of plundering the Church, of union with Lutherans, and the favouring of heresy, had been the work of the wicked minister, and not of the good King—that ill-served and ungratefully-used King, who was always innocent, and never in the wrong, who simply differed from other good Catholics in his independence of the Bishop of Rome: merely a domestic disagreement. With such suave hypocrisy as this difficulties were soon smoothed over; and to prove the perfect sincerity with which Henry proceeded, Protestants like Barnes, Garrard, and Jerome were burnt impartially side by side with Catholics who did not accept the spiritual supremacy of Henry over the Church in England, such as Abell, Powell, Fetherstone, and Cook. The Catholic and aristocratic party in England had thus triumphed all along the line, by the aid of anti-Protestant Churchmen like Gardiner and Tunstal. Their heavy-handed enemy, Cromwell, had gone, bearing the whole responsibility for the past; the King had been flattered by exoneration from blame, and pleased by the release from his wife, so deftly and pleasantly effected. No one but Cromwell was to blame for anything: they were all good Catholics, whom the other Catholic powers surely could not attack for a paltry quarrel with the Pope; and, best of all, the ecclesiastical spoil was secured to them and their heirs for ever, for they all maintained the supremacy of the King in England, good Catholics though they were.

But, withal, they knew that Henry must have some one close to him to keep him in the straight way.[211] The nobles were not afraid of Cranmer, for he kept in the background, and was a man of poor spirit; and, moreover, for the moment the danger was hardly from the reformers. The nobles had triumphed by the aid of Gardiner, and Gardiner was now the strong spirit near the King; but the aims of the nobles were somewhat different from those of Churchmen; and a Catholic bishop as the sole director of the national policy might carry them farther than they wished to go. Henry’s concupiscence must therefore once more be utilised, and the woman upon whom he cast his eyes, if possible, made into a political instrument to forward the faction that favoured her. Gardiner was nothing loath, for he was sure of himself; but how eager Norfolk and his party were to take advantage of Henry’s fancy for Katharine Howard, to effect her lodgment by his side as Queen, is seen by the almost indecent haste with which they began to spread the news of her rise, even before the final decision was given as to the validity of the marriage with Anne. On the 12th July a humble dependant of the Howards, Mistress Joan Bulmer (of whom more will be heard), wrote to Katharine, congratulating her upon her coming greatness, and begging for an office about her person: “for I trost the Quyne of Bretane wyll not forget her secretary.”

Less than a fortnight later (21st July) the French ambassador gives as a piece of gossip that Katharine Howard was already pregnant by the King, and that the marriage was therefore being hurried on. Exactly when or where the wedding took place is not known, but it was a private one, and by the 11th August Katharine was called Queen, and acknowledged as such by all the Court. On the 15th Marillac wrote that her name had been added to the prayers in the Church service, and that the King had gone on a hunting expedition, presumably accompanied by his new wife; whilst “Madame de Cleves, so far from claiming to be married, is more joyous than ever, and wears new dresses every day.” Everybody thus was well satisfied except the Protestants.[212] Henry, indeed, was delighted with his tiny, sparkling girl-wife, and did his best to be a gallant bridegroom to her, though there was none of the pomp and splendour that accompanied his previous nuptials.[213] The autumn of 1540 was passed in a leisurely progress through the shires to Grafton, where most of the honeymoon was spent. The rose crowned was chosen by Henry as his bride’s personal cognisance, and the most was made of her royal descent and connections by the enamoured King. “The King is so amorous of her,” wrote Marillac in September, “that he cannot treat her well enough, and caresses her more than he did the others.” Even thus early, however, whispers were heard of the King’s fickleness. Once it was said that Anne of Cleves was pregnant by him, and he would cast aside Katharine in her favour, and shortly afterwards he refrained from seeing his new wife for ten days together, because of something she had done to offend him.

The moral deterioration of Henry’s character, which had progressed in proportion with the growing conviction of his own infallibility and immunity, had now reached its lowest depth. He was rapidly becoming more and more bulky; and his temper, never angelic, was now irascible in the extreme. His health was bad, and increasing age had made him more than ever impatient of contradiction or restraint, and no consideration but that of his own interest and safety influenced him. The policy which he adopted under the guidance of Gardiner and Norfolk was one of rigorous enforcement of the Six Articles, and, at the same time, of his own spiritual supremacy in England. All chance of a coalition of Henry with the Lutherans was now out of the question (“Squire Harry means to be God, and to do as pleases himself,” said Luther at the time); and the Emperor, freed from that danger, and faced with the greater peril of a coalition of the French and Turks, industriously endeavoured to come to some modus vivendi with his German electors. The rift between Charles and Francis was daily widening; and Henry himself was aiding the process to his full ability; for he knew that whilst they were disunited he was safe. But for the first time in his reign, except when he defied the Pope, he adopted a policy—probably his own and not that of his ministers—calculated to offend both the Catholic powers, whilst he was alienated from the reforming element on the Continent.

By an Act of Parliament the ancient penal laws against foreign denizens were re-enacted, and all foreigners but established merchants were to be expelled the country; whilst alien merchants resident were to pay double taxation. The taxation of Englishmen, enormous under Cromwell, was now recklessly increased, with the set purpose of keeping the lieges poor, just as the atrocious religious executions were mainly to keep them submissive, and incapable of questioning the despot’s will. But, though Englishmen might be stricken dumb by persecution, the expulsion or oppression of foreigners led to much acrimony and reprisals on the part both of the Emperor and Francis. An entirely gratuitous policy of irritation towards France on the frontier of Calais and elsewhere was also adopted, apparently to impress the Emperor, and for the satisfaction of Henry’s arrogance, when he thought it might be safe to exercise it. The general drift of English policy at the time was undoubtedly to draw closer to the Emperor, not entirely to the satisfaction of the Duke of Norfolk, who was usually pro-French; but even here the oppressive Act against foreigners by which Henry hoped to show Charles that his friendship was worth buying made cordiality in the interim extremely difficult. When Chapuys in the Emperor’s name remonstrated with the Council about the new decree forbidding the export of goods from England except in English bottoms, the English ministers rudely said that the King could pass what laws he liked in his own country, just as the Emperor could in his. Charles and his sister, the Regent of the Netherlands, took the hint, and utterly astounded Henry by forbidding goods being shipped in the Netherlands in English vessels.

The danger was understood at once. Not only did this strike a heavy blow at English trade, but it upset the laboriously constructed pretence of close communion with the Emperor which had been used to hoodwink the French. Henry himself bullied and hectored, as if he was the first injured party; and then took Chapuys aside in a window-bay and hinted at an alliance. He said that the French were plotting against the Emperor, and trying to gain his (Henry’s) support, which, however, he would prefer to give to the Emperor if he wished for it. Henry saw, indeed, that he had drawn the bow too tight, and was ready to shuffle out of the position into which his own arrogance had led him. So Gardiner was sent in the winter to see the Emperor with the King’s friend Knyvett, who was to be the new resident ambassador; the object of the visit being partly to impress the French, and partly to persuade Charles of Henry’s strict Catholicism, and so to render more difficult any such agreement being made as that aimed at by the meeting at Worms between the Lutheran princes and their suzerain. Gardiner’s mission was not very successful, for Charles understood the move perfectly; but it was not his policy then to alienate Henry, for he was slowly maturing his plans for crushing France utterly, and hoped whilst Catholic influence was paramount in England to obtain the help or at least the neutrality of Henry.

The fall of Cromwell had been hailed by Catholics in England as the salvation of their faith, and high hopes had attended the elevation of Gardiner. But the crushing taxation, the arbitrary measures, and, above all, the cruel persecution of those who, however slightly, questioned the King’s spiritual supremacy, caused renewed discontent amongst the extreme Catholics, who still looked yearningly towards Cardinal Pole and his house. It is not probable that any Yorkist conspiracy existed in England at the time; the people were too much terrified for that; but Henry’s ambassadors and agents in Catholic countries had been forced sometimes to dally with the foreign view of the King’s supremacy, and Gardiner, whose methods were even more unscrupulous than those of Cromwell, suddenly pounced upon those of Henry’s ministers who might be supposed to have come into contact with the friends of the House of York. Pate, the English ambassador with the Emperor, was suspicious, and escaped to Rome; but Sir Thomas Wyatt, who had been the ambassador in Spain, was led to the Tower handcuffed with ignominy; Dr. Mason, another ambassador, was also lodged in the fortress, at the suggestion of Bonner. Even Sir Ralph Sadler, one of the Secretaries of State, was imprisoned for a short time, whilst Sir John Wallop, the ambassador in France, was recalled and consigned to a dungeon, as was Sir Thomas Palmer, Knight Porter of Calais, and others; though most of them were soon afterwards pardoned at the instance of Katharine Howard. In the early spring of 1541 an unsuccessful attempt was made at a Catholic rising in Yorkshire, where the feeling was very bitter; and though the revolt was quickly suppressed, it was considered a good opportunity for striking terror into those who still doubted the spiritual supremacy of Henry, and resented the plunder of the monasteries. The atrocious crime was perpetrated of bringing out the mother of Pole, the aged Countess of Salisbury, last of the Plantagenets, from her prison in the Tower to the headsman’s block. Lord Leonard Gray was a another blameless victim, whilst Lord Dacre of the South was, on a trumped-up charge of murder, hanged like a common malefactor at Tyburn. Lord Lisle, Henry’s illegitimate uncle, was also kept in the Tower till his death.

When the reign of terror had humbled all men to the dust, the King could venture to travel northward with the purpose of provoking and subjecting his nephew, the King of Scots, the ally of France. All this seems to point to the probability that at this time (1541) Henry had decided to take a share on the side of the Emperor in the war which was evidently looming between Charles and Francis. He was broken and fretful, but his vanity and ambition were still boundless; and Gardiner, whose policy, and not Norfolk’s, it undoubtedly was, would easily persuade him that an alliance in war with Charles could not fail to secure for him increased consideration and readmission into the circle of Catholic nations, whilst retaining his own supremacy unimpaired. Henry’s pompous progress in the North, accompanied by Katharine, occupied nearly five months, till the end of October. How far the young wife was influential in keeping Henry to the policy just described it is impossible to say, but beyond acquiescence in an occasional petition or hint, it is difficult to believe that the elderly, self-willed man would be moved by the thoughtless, giddy girl whom he had married. If the opposite had been the case, Norfolk’s traditions and leanings would have been more conspicuous than they are in Henry’s actions at the time. It is true that, during the whole period, a pretence of cordial negotiation was made for a marriage between Princess Mary and a French prince, but it is certain now, whatever Norfolk may have thought at the time, that the negotiation was solely in order to stimulate Charles to nearer approach, and to mislead Francis whilst the English preparations for war and the strengthening of the garrisons towards France and Scotland went steadily on.

An alliance with the Emperor in a war with France was evidently the policy upon which Henry, instigated by his new adviser, now depended to bring him back with flying colours into the comity of Catholic sovereigns, whilst bating no jot of his claims to do as he chose in his own realm. Such a policy was one after Henry’s own heart. It was showy and tricky, and might, if successful, cover him with glory, as well as redound greatly to his profit in the case of the dismemberment of France. But it would have been impossible whilst the union symbolised by the Cleves marriage existed; and, seen by this light, the eagerness of Gardiner to find a way for the King to dismiss the wife who had personally repelled him is easily understood, as well as Cromwell’s disinclination to do so. The encouragement of the marriage with Katharine Howard, part of the same intrigue, was still further to attach the King to its promoters, and the match was doubtless intended at the same time to conciliate Norfolk and the nobles whilst Gardiner carried through his policy. We shall see that, either by strange chance or deep design, those who were opposed to this policy were the men who were instrumental in shattering the marriage that was its concomitant.

Henry and his consort arrived at Hampton Court from the North on the 30th October 1541, and to his distress he found his only son, Edward, seriously ill of quartan fever. All the physicians within reach were summoned, and reported to the anxious father that the child was so fat and unhealthy as to be unlikely to live long. The King had now been married to Katharine for fifteen months, and there were no signs of probable issue. Strange whispers were going about on back stairs and ante-chambers with regard to the Queen’s proceedings. She was known to have been a giddy, neglected girl before her marriage, having been brought up by her grandmother, the Dowager-Duchess of Norfolk, without the slightest regard for her welfare or the high rank of her family; and her confidants in a particularly dissolute Court were many and untrustworthy. The King, naturally, was the last person to hear the malicious tittle-tattle of jealous waiting-maids and idle pages about the Queen; and though his wife’s want of reserve and dignity often displeased him, he lived usually upon affectionate terms with her. There was other loose talk, also, going on to the effect that on one of the visits of Anne of Cleves to Hampton Court after Henry’s marriage with Katharine, the King and his repudiated wife had made up their differences, with the consequence that Anne was pregnant by him. It was not true; though later it gave much trouble both to Henry and Anne, but it lent further support to the suggestions that were already being made that the King would dismiss Katharine and take Anne back again. The air was full of such rumours, some prompted, as we shall see, by personal malice, others evidently by the opponents of Gardiner’s policy, which was leading England to a war with France and a close alliance with the imperial champion of Catholicism.