Six Wives of Henry VIII

by Alison Weir

  Anne was wearing a gown of cloth of gold embroidered with large flowers of great Orient pearls; again, it was cut in the Dutch fashion, having a round skirt without a train. Her long fair hair was hanging loose, in token of her virginity, and she wore a coronet of gold set with precious stones, with trefoils resembling bunches of rosemary. About her neck was a costly necklace, with a matching belt around her slim waist. Walking between the Count of Overstein and the Grand Master of Cleves, with her face composed and her expression at once demure and serious, she followed the lords into the King's chamber, out the other end, and into the gallery where Henry awaited her. There, she made three deep obeisances, and together they then proceeded to the Chapel Royal, where Cranmer would marry them.

  Anne was given away by the Count of Overstein. On her finger the King placed a ring engraved with the motto 'God send me well to keep.' When the ceremony was over, the King and Queen went hand in hand into Henry's closet to hear mass, and offered their tapers, Anne obediently following the rituals of the established faith to please her new husband. After mass, the bridal party was served spiced wine. The King then went to his privy chamber to change into a gown of tissue lined with embroidered crimson velvet, while Anne went with her ladies to her own chamber, escorted by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. A little after nine, the King and Queen met in Anne's room, where a procession formed, Anne's serjeant-at-arms and all her other officers going before her, and thus in stately fashion the bridal pair passed through the palace to their wedding banquet.

  Later, in the afternoon, Anne changed into a gown of rather masculine cut, with sleeves gathered above the elbow; her ladies donned gowns with the abundance of chains so popular in Germany and the Low Countries. Thus attired, they accompanied the Queen to evensong, after which she had supper with the King. A programme of masques and other entertainment followed, until it was time for the newly wedded pair to be put to bed.

  Henry was in no mood by then to consummate the marriage. It was fortunate therefore that Anne's mother had not considered it appropriate to acquaint her daughter with the facts of life: the King's bride was entirely ignorant of sex, and had little idea of what to expect in the marriage bed. So she lay there, while her new husband ran his hands all over her body and then, it must be assumed, rolled over and went to sleep, leaving her undoubtedly bewildered and embarrassed.

  When morning came, the King was up early. He was in a very bad mood. While he was dressing, Cromwell - who had probably not slept at all - arrived, and anxiously enquired, 'How does your Grace like the Queen?' Henry glowered at him. 'Not so pleasant as I trusted to have done,' he muttered ominously. Cromwell, with understandable apprehension, asked why his master was so dissatisfied, at which the King's temper flared, and he retorted:

  Surely, my lord, I liked her before not well, but now I like her much worse! She is nothing fair, and have very evil smells about her. I took her to be no maid by reason of the looseness of her breasts and other tokens, which, when I felt them, strake me so to the heart, that I had neither will nor courage to prove the rest. I can have none appetite for displeasant airs. I have left her as good a maid as I found her.

  Hearing this, Cromwell knew himself beaten, and that Henry was already smoothing the way towards having the marriage annulled.

  Cromwell could not foresee how this would be done, but he knew the King, and he had little doubt as to what would be the outcome. As for himself, he could only hope that his master would not exact too terrible a revenge.

  The King was in a dangerous mood. Few men would gladly admit to having failed to consummate their marriage, yet by the end of that day Henry had told most of the influential people at court of his inability to make love to the Queen, saying that 'he had found her body disordered and indisposed to excite and provoke any lust in him'. He even sought out his physician, Dr Butts, and explained that his failure to have sexual intercourse with Anne was not due to impotence on his part; indeed, he boasted that he had experienced wet dreams twice during the wedding night, and thought himself able to perform the sex act with others, but not with his wife. 'Surely,' he said mournfully, 'I will never have any more children for the comfort of the realm.' Before very long, the whole court was laughing behind closed doors at the royal-marriage farce. Fortunately, the new Queen could speak very little English, and failed to realise that she was the butt of so many cruel jokes.

  It says a great deal for Anne of Cleves that she managed to settle into her position with dignity. Many people liked her and admired her courage and common sense, and the common people were impressed with what they had seen and heard of her. On 11 January, she attended a tournament held in honourofher marriage, and for the first time appeared dressed in English costume, with a French hood that everyone agreed much became her. Yet her efforts to please had little effect upon her husband. Three days later, Cromwell told the Council that the new Queen remained a virgin because the King's Highness liked not her body, and could not be provoked or stirred to that act, though able to do the act with other than with her'. This selective impotence posed a grave problem for the state: if there were no heirs from the marriage, its whole purpose was in vain. Yet the Privy Councillors agreed that for the moment there was no way out, for fear of reprisals from the Duke of Cleves. Anne must remain queen, and Henry must make the best of it.

  Not long afterwards, the new Queen received a courteous little note from the Lady Elizabeth, her younger stepdaughter. Elizabeth was still at Hertford Castle, and was impatient to come to court and meet her father's new wife.

  Permit me to show, by this billet [she wrote in this the first of her letters to survive], the zeal with which I devote my respect to you as queen, and my entire obedience to you as my mother. I am too young and feeble to have power to do more than felicitate you with all my heart in this commencement of your marriage. I hope that your Majesty will have as much goodwill for me as I have zeal for your service.

  Touched by this letter from a very accomplished and erudite six-year-old, Anne showed it to the King, and asked if Elizabeth might come to court. But Henry was in no mood to grant anyone any favours, and would not hear of it. He took the letter and gave it to Cromwell, then ordered him to write a reply. 'Tell her,' he said brutally, 'that she had a mother so different from this woman that she ought not to wish to see her.' At this point there came about a significant change in the shifting scene of European politics. Both the Emperor and the King of France began to make friendly overtures to Henry VIII because their mutual pact was beginning to go the way of many others and deteriorate into barely concealed hostility. There were signs that both were looking for a renewaloffriendship with England, and it soon became obvious to Henry that his position had strengthened immeasurably. A German alliance was now neither attractive nor necessary. In fact, in this new situation, it was positively undesirable, being not only unpopular with the Emperor and the French, but also with the strong Catholic faction at the English court headed by the Duke of Norfolk and the conservative Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester.

  Henry did not hasten to rid himself of Anne of Cleves immediately, however. He realised that it was wiser to wait until the Emperor's true intentions were revealed; if Charles continued to show himself friendly, then Henry would reciprocate, in the hope that Charles would stand as a bulwark between him and Cleves when the time came for him to end his marriage. In the meantime, he got rid of Philip of Bavaria, who left England on 27 January, much to the relief of the Lady Mary, who was now recovered from her illness. While he was about it, the King also dismissed most of Anne's German attendants and packed them off to Cleves. Before they left, he gave a sumptuous feast in their honour, and sent them away laden with gifts. As a special favour to the Queen, a few of her people were allowed to stay in England, but Henry meant to send them home too, once she had grown accustomed to English ways.

  Tradition dictated that a new queen made a state entry into London prior to her coronation, but the King had abandoned his plans for a February c
rowning, without offering Anne any explanation as to why. Instead, he grudgingly arranged for the civic reception to take place. On 3 February, the Privy Council issued orders requiring the 'commons of London' to put on their best clothes and take to their barges on the following day in order to do honour to their queen. King and Council were united in their determination to give the Duke of Cleves no grounds for criticism.

  On 4 February, the King and Queen took the royal barge from Greenwich to Westminster; with them, in other barges, sailed the nobility of England and the bishops. As they passed the Tower, a great peal of guns saluted them. The citizens of London were cheering from the riverbanks, and the guildsmen were passing in their decorated barges. The City's welcome was warm and encouraging, and Anne must have been gratified by this. At Westminster, the King helped her out of the barge, and together they walked with their attendants to Whitehall Palace, where they were to stay for a time.

  It was while the court was at Whitehall that Anne Bassett, who had been appointed one of Anne's maids of honour back in December and was now reporting for duty, was informed that the Queen had brought with her so many German attendants that, even allowing for those who had been sent home, there was no place for her, or for several other English ladies, in her household. Naturally, Anne Bassett was very put out and she complained to her mother Lady Lisle, who in turn wrote expressing her grievance to Lady Rutland, wife of the Queen's Lord Chamberlain. Lady Rutland replied that the King would not allow any more maids to be appointed until there was a vacancy created by someone leaving the Queen's household. However, she advised, it might be as well to lay her daughter's case before Mother Lowe, the strict German mistress of the Queen's maids, as she was in the best position to find a place for Anne Bassett. Lady Lisle did write to Mother Lowe and was gratified to hear from Anne, only a week later, that she was now waiting upon the Queen.

  It was well known among the ladies of the Queen's household that their mistress was a wife in name only. Inhabiting a sophisticated court where intrigue and adultery were commonplace, they found it scarcely believable that Anne of Cleves should be so innocent. One day, around late February, the Queen told her senior ladies-in-waiting, Lady Rutland, Lady Rochford, and Winifred, Lady Edgecombe how kind and solicitous her husband the King was. 'Why,' she said in her guttural, halting English, 'when he comes to bed he kisseth me, and taketh me by the hand, and biddeth me "Good night, sweetheart"; and in the morning kisseth me and biddeth "Farewell, darling." ' The ladies present exchanged furtive glances: was that all? After a significant pause, they told Anne they hoped she would soon be with child, to which she replied that she knew very well she was not. Lady Edgecombe asked how it was possible for her to know that: 'I know it well, I am not,' answered Anne. 'I think your Grace is a maid still,' ventured Lady Edgecombe with some daring, not to say impudence. Anne laughed at this; 'How can I be a maid, and sleep every night with the King?' she said, and repeated what she had said earlier of their nightly routine. 'Is this not enough?' she queried. It was Lady Rutland who spoke: 'Madam, there must be more than this, or it will be long ere we have a duke of York, which all this realm most desireth.'

  Anne's face registered dismay. 'Nay,' she said, 'I am contented I know no more.' Nevertheless, her ladies proceeded to enlighten her, and afterwards asked her if she had acquainted Mother Lowe with the King's neglect of his marital duties. By this time, Anne had had enough of being interrogated, and replied firmly that 'she received quite as much of his Majesty's attention as she wished'.

  Nevertheless, the seeds of anxiety had been sown in her mind. She now knew that something was very wrong with her glittering marriage; in one stroke her illusions about the King had been effectively shattered. What was the meaning of his neglect? Did he not love her? Did he intend to set her aside, as he had done Queen Katherine? Or, even worse, do away with her, as he had done with Anne Boleyn? We shall, of course, never know exactly what Anne's private feelings were at this time, but it is certain that from then on she was watchful, alert for the first signs of anything adverse, and careful to conduct herself with the utmost decorum.

  In March 1540, the King's conscience reared its righteous head once more. He told his Council that it would not permit him to consummate his marriage as he felt sure he was not entitled to do so, being convinced that there had in fact been a precontract between Anne and the Duke of Lorraine's son. 'I have done as much to move the consent of my heart and mind as ever man did,' he said piously, 'but the obstacle will not out of my mind.' The Council realised they were being ordered to supply grounds for dissolving the marriage, and after some discussion they told the King it was their opinion that non-consummation was in itself grounds for annulment. There was no need to rake up the precontract with Lorraine; it was a dubious pretext at best. Nevertheless, they would have the matter investigated once more. This seemed to satisfy Henry.

  The spring of 1540 saw the surrender of the abbeys of Canterbury, Christchurch, Rochester and Waltham. With this closure, the dissolution of the monasteries was complete. Henry was now wearing on his thumb the great ruby that had, since the twelfth century, adorned the shrine of Becket at Canterbury. On his orders, the saint's body had been exhumed and thrown on a dung heap, because Becket had been a traitor to his King. Not all the monastic wealth found its way into the royal coffers in the Tower. Vast tracts of abbey land were bestowed upon noblemen loyal to the crown: Woburn Abbey was given to Sir John Russell, Wilton Abbey to Lord Herbert, and so on. Many stately homes surviving today are built on the sites of monastic establishments, sometimes with stones from the abbeys themselves. This redistribution of land from church to lay ownership served the purpose of binding the aristocracy by even greater ties of loyalty and gratitude to the King: they were hardly likely to oppose radical religious reforms when they had benefited so lavishly as a result of them.

  Although Henry had retained most of the old Catholic rituals when he broke with the Pope, Lutheranism had gained a foothold in England in recent years, and was growing in popularity, even though the penalties for heresy were severe. The King's marriage to a Protestant princess had made not one whit of difference to religious practice in England; Anne of Cleves was happy anyway to conform to all the outward forms of Catholic worship. Nevertheless, she was regarded as being a figurehead for the reformist party at court, especially by the strong Catholic faction, headed by the Duke of Norfolk and Bishop Gardiner. This party was firmly opposed to any religious changes that tended towards Lutheranism, and it was very much in favour of the dissolution of the royal marriage. Thus while Cromwell was doing his best to promote the excellent qualities of the Queen, Norfolk and Gardiner were urging the King to divorce her. 'Cromwell is tottering,' reported Charles de Marillac, the French ambassador, on 10 April. It was the opposition's hope that, once rid of Anne of Cleves, Henry would marry a more orthodox bride who would represent their own interests. It must also be said that, as with Wolsey's enemies a decade before, jealousy was one of their guiding motives.

  On 17 April, Henry surprised everyone by creating Cromwell Earl of Essex. This looked like a setback for the Catholic party, but in reality it was no such thing, being another example of the King's subtle cruelty. By lulling Cromwell into a sense of false security, he hoped to exact a more satisfying revenge, which would be as unexpected as it was deadly. Nor was it long before the Catholic faction suspected what would be the outcome, and realised that it was imperative to concentrate their energies on hastening the fall of the new Earl.

  The King had confided to Norfolk that he meant to force Cromwell to bring about the dissolution of the marriage he had worked so hard to create before he destroyed him. Henry was still telling people that he could 'not overcome his aversion to the Queen sufficiently to consider her as his wife'; he was sure, he said mournfully, that God would never send him any more children if he continued in this marriage, and declared that 'before God, he thought she was not his lawful wife'. His councillors remembered having heard all this on another occasi
on, and were praying that this queen proved not so obdurate as the first had been. Everyone knew from bitter experience that a royal divorce could be a messy and fraught business that could drag on for years, and it was not surprising that the Council shrank from the prospect.

  There now emerged, however, the strongest possible incentive for the King to end his marriage. In April 1540, it was noticed that he had 'crept too near another lady'. Her name was Katherine Howard, and she was the niece of the Duke of Norfolk and a first cousin to Anne Boleyn. The Catholic party had timed her entrance well. She had been deliberately placed in the Queen's household as a maid of honour with detailed instructions as to how to attract the King's attention. Norfolk had already seen one niece attain the consort's throne, and saw no reason why another should not aspire to the same dignity. Besides, this one was younger, more malleable, and much prettier than the first.

  Katherine was about fifteen. She was the eldest daughter of Norfolk's younger brother, Lord Edmund Howard, who had died, aged sixty-one, in 1539. Lord Edmund had been Comptroller of Calais; being a younger son, he had very little by way of inheritance from his father, the second Duke of Norfolk, and had spent the greater part of his life shouldering heavy debts. Little is known about him; one of his few surviving letters relates how a medicine prescribed for him by Lady Lisle had caused him to 'bepiss my bed'. He had first married Joyce Culpeper, widow of Mr Ralph Legh, to whom she had borne five children. She presented Lord Edmund with another five, of whom Katherine was perhaps the fourth. There were three sons: Charles, Henry (who died young) and George, and two daughters, Katherine and Mary, who later married Thomas Arundel, who was executed for treason in 1552.