by Alison Weir
The King was picnicking with Katherine at Greenwich when news reached him of the disturbances in his capital, and he left for the City at once, sending his guards ahead, who swiftly brought the rioters under control. The youths who had caused the violence were all arrested and brought to Westminster Hall, where the King, determined to avenge the outrage committed against the foreigners under his protection, wasted no time in condemning them all to the gallows. At this, the wives and mothers of the apprentices, who had gathered at the back of the hall, burst out into pitiful weeping and wailing. Queen Katherine, seated on her throne behind the King, heard them, and her heart was touched. Without hesitation, she rose from her place and knelt before her husband, begging him with tears in her eyes: 'Spare the apprentices!' Wolsey added his pleas to hers, rightly judging that such an act of mercy would greatly enhance his own and the King's popularity with the people. Henry could resist neither his wife, nor his minister, nor could he turn down this opportunity of winning golden opinions. He therefore pardoned the prisoners and gave them back their liberty, thus turning this 'Evil May Day' into a day of rejoicing, as the apprentices threw their halters into the air and hastened to be reunited with their families. Some of the mothers went up to the Queen and thanked her for her intervention, praising her for championing Englishmen above the Spaniards who had suffered injury and loss in the riots. Katherine answered them 'gently' and then departed, more beloved than ever.
The French alliance held good for six years. In 1518, it was agreed that Henry's daughter, the two-year-old Princess Mary, should one day marry the Dauphin, Francis I's heir. Henry, still hopeful of a son to succeed him, was enthusiastic about the match, as it would guarantee Mary a glorious future as Queen of France. Katherine, however, was not happy at all at the prospect of her only child being given to France, though she did not venture to criticise.
In February 1519, the Emperor Maximilian died. His death was to have far-reaching consequences for the whole of Europe. His grandson Charles was elected Holy Roman Emperor in his place, at the age of nineteen. The new Emperor Charles V now ruled Germany, Austria, the Low Countries, parts of Italy and, from 1526, Hungary also, as well as Spain: half of Europe, in fact. Such unity had not featured in the Holy Roman Empire since the days of Charlemagne. However, Charles's title was based on tradition rather than fact: the Empire was no longer based in Rome, neither was it particularly holy. Not only were the Emperors often at loggerheads with the Popes, but the Empire itself was shortly to be divided by schism as Luther's doctrines gained currency. The 'Christian republic' of the European Middle Ages was about to become a thing of the past, although in due course Charles V would follow in the steps of Charlemagne to Rome, there to be crowned by the Pope.
The election of Charles V had the immediate effect of improving Katherine of Aragon's status in England. She was his aunt, and could command greater respect as such than as Henry VIII's barren consort. In England, she now represented the combined might, and reflected glory, of Spain and the Empire, a formidable heritage. Yet, for all this, her life continued as quietly as before. The gulf between her and the King was widening all the time; her influence was still minimal, and her function now merely ceremonial. She had failed in every way that mattered, and beside this her considerable personal qualities paled into insignificance.
Katherine's two consolations were her religion and the emotional fulfilment she found in her daughter Mary. The Queen was a very maternal woman, and fiercely protective of her child, who was a pretty little girl. 'This child never cries!' the King proudly told the French ambassador when Mary was two. She had inherited her father's colouring and her mother's air of gravity, and was 'decorous in manners', having been schooled rigidly to good behaviour from the cradle. In time, she would display a profound piety that would even exceed Katherine's, and her first recorded words - 'Priest! Priest!' - were strangely prophetic.
The Princess was brought up in an atmosphere of domestic harmony. A lady governess, Lady Margaret Bryan, looked after her daily needs from an early age. Any tension between her parents was concealed by the fact that they both doted upon her. Henry was fond of showing her off to visiting dignitaries, and when Katherine had led her by the hand into his presence, he would sweep her up in his arms and carry her round, bursting with pride. She, in turn, adored him. 'See how she jumps forward in her nurse's lap when she catches sight of her father!' exclaimed the Bishop of Durham, an entranced observer. As she grew older, she was allowed to take part in court festivities and pageants, and at four she was receiving foreign envoys and entertaining them with music played rather shakily on the virginals. At seven, she was an expert dancer, and - according to a Spanish envoy - twirled 'so prettily that no woman could do better'.
Mary's formal education began in 1523. The King and Queen wished it to be a classic grounding in all the subjects appropriate to a Renaissance princess, with sound religious teaching at its core. They had taken advice from Juan Luis Vives, a Spanish educationist with a reputation for advanced views on female education, and with his approval the King appointed Richard Fetherston, who had been chaplain to Queen Katherine and was a gentle, devout man, to be Mary's first tutor. Vives himself drew up a plan for her formal curriculum, which would later be the basis for his treatise The Institution of a Christian Woman,which was dedicated to Queen Katherine. He also taught Mary Latin, while Katherine herself helped the child with her translations.
Vives's curriculum was, by modern standards, severe for a child of seven, and involved much learning of the Scriptures, the works of the early Fathers of the Church, as well as the study of ancient classics and history. Light reading was forbidden, in case it encouraged light behaviour.
In August 1525, the King sent Mary with her own household to live at Ludlow Castle. Although she was her father's heiress, she had never been formally invested with the principality of Wales, but Henry now decided to follow tradition and send her with 'an honourable, sad, discreet and expert council' to the castle on the Welsh marches where Katherine had spent most of her brief married life with Prince Arthur nearly a quarter of a century before. Here, Mary would learn something of the art of government. Lady Salisbury, her mother's close friend, was appointed state governess, and the Queen and Wolsey worked together on a plan for the regime to be followed by the Princess at Ludlow, giving 'most tender regard' to her age, education and moral training. She was to enjoy plenty of fresh air walking in the gardens, to practise her music, and continue learning Latin and French. Her lessons were not to fatigue her, and her diet was to be 'pure, well-dressed, and served with merry communication'. Her private apartments and her clothes must be kept 'pure, sweet, clean and wholesome', and those in attendance on her must treat her with 'humility and reverence'. It is not difficult to read into this remarkable document a mother's anxiety that her child should suffer no diminishment of care while they were apart.
Katherine bore the separation with stoicism, although she wrote to Mary that it troubled her. Mary's own letters were the chief joy in her life during the long months apart, as was the finished written work that the Princess sent her; 'it was a great comfort to me to see you keep your Latin and fair writing and all,' replied her mother. Katherine did not see Mary again until the Princess came to Greenwich for the Christmas festivities of 1526, when Henry led her out with him to dance before the court. After Twelfth Night, she returned to Ludlow, but was back at court in April 1527, when it was noted that, at eleven, she was 'the most accomplished person for her age'. Thereafter, Mary remained at court, where she completed her education - as she had begun it - under her mother's supervision.
In February 1520, preparations for the long-awaited summit meeting between Henry VIII and Francis I began. After discussion between Wolsey and the French ambassador, it was agreed that the English court should cross to France in May, and stay at Henry's own castle at Guisnes in the Pale of Calais, then in English hands. The French visit was Wolsey's brainchild, and he was in charge of all the arrangements,
drawing up a code of etiquette which cleverly solved all questions of precedence and courtesy that might vex 'the King of England and the Queen his bedfellow'. The Cardinal then set about planning what was to be one of the most expensive charades ever staged in history, the Field of Cloth of Gold, so called because no expense would be spared in displaying the wealth of England and France to each other.
Katherine had been against the French visit from the first, and spoke out against it to her council, who were surprised she had dared be so bold. However, Henry VIII himself was having second thoughts about his alliance with Francis I, and was beginning to find the prospect of friendship with the new Emperor more appealing. He therefore paid some heed to his wife's protests, for once, and thus Katherine found herself 'held in greater esteem by the King and his Council than ever'. Nevertheless, Wolsey was so far forward with plans for the visit that it was too late to cancel it, and Henry never could resist an opportunity to show off. Katherine recognised that it was expedient to go to France with as much grace as she could muster.
Charles V himself was eager to form a tie of friendship with England, and in May 1520 he paid Henry and Katherine a visit. The King spent lavishly on new clothes for himself and his wife in honour of his 'well beloved nephew', while Katherine was elated at the prospect of coming face to face with Juana's son, whom she had never seen and of whom she had such high hopes. 'I thank God I shall see his face,' she said; 'it will be the greatest good that I can have on earth.' The meeting took place at Canterbury at Whitsun, with Emperor and King embracing 'right lovingly'. Charles greeted his aunt in his customary distant and correct manner, with little outward warmth, but she did not seem to mind, and 'most joyfully received and welcomed him'. He was not the most prepossessing figure, being graced with a pronounced version of the heavy Hapsburg jaw, which made it impossible for him to close his mouth, and gave him a somewhat vacuous look. For all this, and his inbred reticence, Charles was a hard-headed realist, already evincing something of the strength and single-mindedness with which he would rule his vast dominions for the next third of a century.
Charles's purpose in coming to England was to persuade Henry not to attend the proposed meeting with Francis I. However, Henry explained why the meeting must go ahead, and arranged to meet with Charles afterwards in Flanders. After attending mass together in the Cathedral on Whitsunday, the two monarchs presided over a banquet; Katherine was there, resplendent in a gown of cloth of gold and violet velvet embroidered with Tudor roses. Four days of feasting followed, then Charles left England, on the same day that Henry and Katherine, with a huge retinue - Katherine's train alone numbered 3,000 persons - travelled to Dover and there took ship for Calais, where they would stay briefly at the Palace of the Exchequer before moving to Guisnes on 3 June. Here, in a temporary palace erected to Wolsey's specifications, the Queen found herself occupying rooms of unsurpassed magnificence. Her closet was hung with cloth of gold and jewels; it had an altar adorned with pearls and precious stones, with twelve golden statuettes; even the ceiling was lined with cloth of gold and precious stones.
The Field of Cloth of Gold would for ever after be remembered for the riches and splendour witnessed there. On 7 June, the two kings met in the Vale of Ardres, in what is now a turnip field, but was then dotted with silken pavilions and thronged with the members of the English and French courts. It was a most satisfactory encounter; after saluting and embracing each other, Henry and Francis exchanged gifts and signed a new treaty of friendship; Henry then spoke to Francis about his hopes for a reconciliation between France and the Empire. However, as the Venetian ambassador observed, 'these sovereigns are not at peace. They hate each other cordially.' Nevertheless, this did not prevent them from indulging in three weeks of festivities to celebrate their meeting, an empty charade that would cost a fortune and achieve virtually nothing, except to cement the rivalry between them, and drive Henry directly into the arms of the Emperor. Thus what should have been a politically advantageous meeting quickly degenerated into a mere masque for the prodigal entertainment of two extravagant courts, whose sovereigns postured in new outfits of increasing splendour every day and ended up barely able to conceal their jealousy of each other.
Both their queens did what they could to calm the troubled waters. Katherine and Claude liked each other immediately; at mass, after arguing in the friendliest manner over who should kiss the Bible first, each indicating the other, they compromised by kissing each other instead. And both intervened at a wrestling match between their lords, when Francis threw Henry and Henry, red with fury, was about to retaliate.
On 11 June, the two kings tilted in their wives' honour; Katherine arrived in a crimson satin litter embroidered with gold, and sat to watch the jousts under a canopy of estate lined entirely with pearls. She wore a Spanish head-dress, with her long hair loose beneath it, and a gown of cloth of gold. Three days later, she entertained King Francis at Guisnes 'with all honour', while Henry went to Ardres as the guest of Queen Claude. Katherine sat beside Francis at a 'right honourably served' banquet, and afterwards her ladies danced for his pleasure. Later, she would call him 'the greatest Turk that ever was', for she had seen with her own eyes the effect he had on the opposite sex.
And still the extravagant festivities continued, to the ruin of both the English and French treasuries. Jousts, sporting events, banquets, balls all followed in quick succession, and at every event Queen Katherine appeared superbly dressed and displayed exquisite courtesy. At last, on 23 June, the great charade came to an end when Wolsey celebrated mass before the assembled courts; then there was a farewell banquet, and fireworks to end the day. On 25 June 1520, the English court returned to Calais, where it remained at the Exchequer. Two weeks later, Henry rode to Gravelines to meet the Emperor, and conducted him back to Calais where he and the Queen hosted an impressive banquet for their nephew before bidding him farewell and returning to England. When news of this meeting reached King Francis, he was not best pleased, and the already tense relationship between France and England was dealt a death blow on 14 July when Henry concluded a new treaty with Charles in which each agreed not to make any new alliance with France during the next two years.
Wolsey quietly arranged the breaking of Mary's betrothal to the Dauphin, to the great relief and joy of the Queen, and in the spring of 1521 Katherine's happiness was further compounded when Charles asked for Mary's hand in marriage; she had always hoped for a Spanish match for her child. Charles was undoubtedly the greatest matrimonial prize in Europe, and Mary would be assured of a brilliant future. The marriage treaty was signed in August, and Katherine found herself feeling unusually cordial towards Wolsey, who had helped arrange it. In May 1522, Charles returned to England for the betrothal ceremony, and three days after his arrival England declared war on France. Katherine had dreamed of and prayed for a Spanish alliance for the past eight years: it was now a fact.
The Emperor was met by King Henry, who brought him in the royal barge to Greenwich, where they were met at the doorway of the great hall by the Queen and her daughter. Charles knelt for his aunt's blessing and expressed great joy at seeing her, then greeted his future bride, who was still small for her age, but promised to be 'a handsome lady'. During the visit there were the usual banquets and jousts, as well as a masque, then the whole court rode to Windsor for the formal ceremony of betrothal on 19 June. Mary was due to go to Spain when she was twelve, but Charles asked if she might come earlier, to be educated as befitted a future Empress and Queen of Spain. Henry told him that if he should search all Christendom for 'a mistress to bring her up after the manner of Spain, then he could not find one more meet than the Queen's Grace, her mother, who, for the affection she beareth to the Emperor, will nurture her and bring her up to his satisfaction'. Katherine felt that Mary was not strong enough for 'the pains of the sea' or 'the air of another country', remembering her own voyage to England and how ill she had been for six years after her arrival.
Nevertheless, although Charles l
eft England without his bride, relations between England and the Empire were never better than at this time. Charles declared war on France, and in February 1525 scored a resounding victory at Pavia in Italy, where King Francis was taken prisoner; later, he was sent to Madrid. Henry VIII was jubilant when he heard the news, and told the messenger he was 'like the Angel Gabriel announcing the birth of Jesus Christ'. In April, he sent Charles an emerald ring on Mary's behalf, with a loving message; Charles replied he would wear it for her sake. He continued to press for her to be sent to Spain, but Henry was adamant that she should not go until the appointed time, and would not budge on this point. Charles then demanded payment of her dowry as an act of good faith, but again Henry refused: it was not due for another three years. This wrangling went on until August 1525, when Charles suddenly announced that, as he had received neither his bride nor her dowry, he considered his betrothal null and void. He had, in fact, found a richer bride, Isabella of Portugal, another of Katherine's nieces, who had a dowry of one million crowns, was very beautiful, and also of an age to bear children.
Even before Henry had learned of Charles's perfidy, Wolsey had begun to edge him back into the open arms of the French, who needed a strong ally. This new alliance was Wolsey's project from start to finish: he had not forgiven or forgotten being ousted from the contest for the papacy. Of course, these events caused Queen Katherine great distress, and when, in September, Henry formally released Charles from his promise and ratified the treaty with France, her dream of a united England and Spain was finally shattered. Politically she would once more be a nonentity in her husband's realm, and for this she blamed Wolsey.