Bastard Prince (2 page)

Since Richmond was the only illegitimate son Henry VIII ever chose to acknowledge, it is tempting to conclude that he was the only illegitimate son he had. Writing in April 1538, regarding the arrangements for a proposed marriage between his eldest daughter Mary and Dom Luis of Portugal, Henry advised the Emperor, Charles V, that he was prepared to:

assure unto him and her and their posterity as much yearly rent as the late Duke of Richmond, our only bastard son had of our gift within this our realm.
⁷

In a sense it does not matter whether Richmond was the king's only bastard issue or not. What is most important is that he was the only one that Henry was prepared to acknowledge and employ on the wider political stage. The king's precise intentions for Richmond's long term prospects are, of course, a very different matter.

According to the King's Book of Payments, on 8 May 1513 Elizabeth Blount received 100
s
‘upon a warrant signed for her last year's wage ended at the annunciation of our Lady last past'.
¹
This indicates that she made her début at the court of King Henry VIII on 25 March 1512, when she was about twelve years old. The manner of her payment, which was not included in the regular lists of wages paid at the half-year and the amount, which was half the 200
s
per annum paid to the queen's young maids of honour, suggests that she did not yet have a formal place in Katherine of Aragon's household. Yet, even then, observers must have glimpsed something in the lively, fair-haired girl of those ‘rare ornaments of nature and education' that were to mark her out as ‘the beauty of mistress piece of her time'.

Twelve was the minimum age that a girl could be accepted for a court position and competition for such places was fierce. Elizabeth was fortunate that her family conformed to the Tudor ideal of beauty, with fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. Equally praised for her skills in singing, dancing and ‘all goodly pastimes' she was well suited to the glittering world of the court, with its masques, dances and endless occasions to impress. On the other hand, her ownership of a volume of Latin and English poetry by John Gower suggests this was no empty-headed moppet, but a girl with a lively mind to match her merry disposition, a quality which would no doubt have recommended her to an educated woman like Katherine of Aragon.

When a girl's best chance of advancement was to make an advantageous marriage, Elizabeth's parents must have hoped that she had made a good beginning. The prospect of a full-time position at court, mixing with some of the finest families in the realm, was the surest route to a beneficial match. However, they probably did not expect that one day their daughter would be the mother of the king's son.

The peaceful accession of King Henry VIII on 21 April 1509 had been greeted with unrestrained delight. ‘All the world here is rejoicing in the possession of so great a Prince' wrote William Blount, Lord Mountjoy. Here indeed was a prince among men. At around six foot three inches tall, Henry was, quite literally, head and shoulders above many of his contemporaries. Even the ambassadors of other realms were lavish in their praise of the young king. His skin was pink and healthy, his auburn hair shone like gold, his whole body was ‘admirably proportioned'. The epitome of vigour and youth, it was believed ‘nature could not have done more for him'.

Decades away from the bejowled colossus depicted in his last years, the man Elizabeth Blount would remember from their courtship made a stunning first impression. The Venetian Ambassador, Sebastian Giustinian, could hardly contain his admiration:

His Majesty is the handsomest potentate I ever set eyes on; above the usual height, with an extremely fine calf to his leg, his complexion fair and bright, with auburn hair combed straight and short in the French fashion, and a round face so very beautiful that it would become a pretty woman, his throat being rather long and thick.
²

It was the best of new beginnings. The realm Henry had inherited was peaceful and prosperous. Unlike his father he had not been required to assert his claim to the crown on the battlefield. Nor was England to be burdened with the difficulties and dangers of a minority government. Best of all, despite being several weeks short of his eighteenth birthday when he ascended the throne, from the outset Henry VIII looked the king.

His impressive stature and handsome features inspired awe and admiration. Equally lauded for his athletic prowess with spear or sword, he was an accomplished rider, who hunted with such enthusiasm that he tired eight or ten horses in a day, not to mention those of his courtiers who did not share his formidable stamina. In an age when kings were still required to lead their forces in person, those who applauded his amazing feats in the jousts knew they might one day be called upon to follow this man into battle. At the very least, Henry's abilities were a means to encourage his forces to greater glory. Also praised for his learning and other talents, the new king may well have merited the accolades, which were heaped upon him. Yet beneath the admiration must have been a significant degree of relief.

Of the children born to Henry VII and Elizabeth of York only three survived to adulthood. Two of those were daughters: Margaret, born in 1489, had married James IV of Scotland in 1503 and Mary, born in 1496, was betrothed to Charles of Castile. Of the three recorded sons, the death of the youngest, Edmund, in 1500, before he reached his second birthday was a natural disappointment. The death of the heir apparent, Arthur, Prince of Wales, in 1502 at the age of fifteen had been a devastating blow. Everyone was acutely aware that Henry VIII had been the sole male heir to the Tudor throne since the age of eleven. It was only good fortune that Henry VII survived until his heir was a respectable seventeen years old.

Although the youth of the thirteen-year-old Edward V had not been the only factor in Richard III's unprecedented decision to usurp his nephew's throne in 1483, it was universally accepted that a country needed a strong ruler if it were to thrive. Furthermore, the Tudors' own claim to the throne was very recent. Henry VII's reign had been troubled by the plots of the Yorkist pretenders Lambert Simnel, masquerading as the Earl of Warwick and more seriously, Perkin Warbeck posing as Richard, Duke of York. In addition, the genuine offspring of the House of York, in particular the nephews of Edward IV and Richard III, had reason to feel they had a better claim than any Tudor.

Henry VII made stalwart efforts to ensure the security of the succession.
³
During the negotiations for Katherine of Aragon's marriage to Arthur, Prince of Wales, the continued existence of Edward, Earl of Warwick, raised sufficient concern to warrant his execution, even though he was safely captive in the Tower. The offspring of Edward IV's sister, Elizabeth de la Pole, were treated as a serious threat. When the question of who might succeed Henry VII arose in 1503, when Prince Henry was still a child of twelve, Sir Hugh Conway reported:

It happened the same time me to be among many great personages, the which fell in communication of the king's grace, and of the world that should be after him if his grace happened to depart. Then, he said, that some of them spake of my lord of Buckingham, saying that he was a noble man and would be a royal ruler. Other there were that spake, he said, in like wise of your traitor, Edmund de la Pole, but none of them, he said, that spoke of my lord prince.
⁴

The threat would not be extinguished easily. Henry VII secured the return from exile of Edmund de la Pole in 1506 and confined him in the Tower. However, his brother Richard remained at large and would be a thorn in Henry's side for some years to come.

In 1513, as Henry VIII prepared for war in France, Richard de la Pole persuaded the King of France, Louis XII, to recognise him as King Richard IV. Henry was sufficiently concerned by the danger that this represented to order the execution of Edmund before crossing the Channel. The Duke of Buckingham, whose own claim to the throne was derived from Edward III, profited little from this ominous example. Amid claims that he intended to usurp the throne, he was executed in his turn in 1521. Henry VIII was all too aware that the only way to secure the Tudor dynasty's grip on the crown was to produce a viable male heir.

That Henry VIII chose to make Katherine of Aragon his bride must be seen, at least in part, as a response to this pressing need. Although the couple had been betrothed since 1503, their union was by no means a foregone conclusion. The youngest daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, Katherine had come to England in 1501 to marry Henry's elder brother Arthur, then Prince of Wales. After Arthur's sudden death in 1502 Henry VII had decided that his interests would be best served by preserving this alliance. After some negotiation it was agreed that Katherine should marry the twelve-year-old Prince Henry as soon as he had completed his fourteenth year on 28 June 1506. Yet as that time approached, Henry VII became increasingly uncertain that this was the best possible match for his only remaining son and heir.

In 1505 Prince Henry, at his father's instigation, made a formal protest against the contract made during his minority. In 1506 Henry might describe his betrothed as ‘my most dear and well-beloved consort, the Princess, my wife', but his father was looking at other possibilities. Once Henry VIII became king in 1509, several questions, not least the important matter of Katherine's dowry and rival negotiations for a marriage to Eleanor, the daughter of Philip of Burgundy, were simply swept aside.
⁵
After seven years of dispute and delay Henry VIII married Katherine of Aragon just six weeks after his accession.

At twenty-three Katherine was ‘the most beautiful creature in the world', still blessed with the fresh complexion and long auburn hair that had entranced observers at her arrival in England. She was also of an age to bear children, something that could not be said of the eleven-year-old Eleanor. Henry's excuse that the marriage was his father's dying wish was conveniently difficult to disprove. Shortly afterwards he wrote to his new father-in-law, ‘If I were still free I would choose her for wife above all others'. There can be little doubt that Henry was eager to marry Katherine and chose to exercise his new found authority to settle the matter.

Henry and Katherine were wed on 11 June 1509 at the Church of the Observant Franciscans at Greenwich. Despite the difficulties created by Henry VII, it was a most suitable match. Katherine was descended from one of the most respected royal houses in Europe and her pedigree would do much to bolster the credibility of the fledgling Tudor dynasty. Henry VIII was fired with the desire to reclaim the English crown's ancient rights in France; from the outset his attitude was clear. The policy of peace and security followed by his father would not be his, far better was the esteem and respect earned by success in campaigns and the glory and honour that came from dispensing the spoils of war. ‘I ask peace of the king of France, who dare not look at me let alone make war!' he thundered. Katherine's support, or more to the point that of his new father-in-law, seemed to place all this within his grasp.

Katherine's piety was also a desirable attribute in a queen, encouraging God's blessings on the realm. When Henry was so determined to seek glory by waging war on his fellow Christians, always a complex moral issue despite appearances to the contrary, her devotional and charitable activities would help redress the balance. It is also clear that the couple themselves enjoyed a warm and mutually satisfactory relationship. ‘The Queen must see this' or ‘This will please the Queen', Henry would enthuse. In her turn Katherine bore Henry's boyish japes with affectionate indulgence. However, it was widely acknowledged that ‘Princes do not marry for love. They take wives only to beget children'.

The importance of fecundity was evident in Katherine's chosen emblem. The pomegranate was not just a representation of her homeland, but also a symbol of fertility. Sir Thomas More had good reason to believe that she would be ‘the mother of Kings as great as her ancestors': Katherine came from a family of five surviving children and her sister Juana produced a brood of six children. At first it seemed as if the queen would have little problem in fulfilling the nation's expectations. Only four and a half months after the wedding Henry was able to advise his father-in-law that ‘the child in the womb was alive'. That this pregnancy ended with a stillborn daughter at seven months was a disappointment but not a disaster. Such things were not unusual. Katherine and Henry had at least proved their fertility and therefore it was only a matter of time before she conceived again. Indeed, when Katherine wrote to advise her father of the miscarriage, she was already pregnant again.

It is perhaps no coincidence that the first indication of any infidelity on the king's part occurs at this time. Sex during pregnancy was generally discouraged as being harmful to the health of the mother and the unborn child. While it is doubtful that every husband followed this recommendation, Henry had more reason than most to be careful of his wife's condition. However, despite the rumours, it is by no means certain how far, if at all, Henry strayed. In 1510, the Spanish ambassador, Don Luis Caroz reported that one of the young, married sisters of the Duke of Buckingham had attracted the attention of the king. According to the ambassador, Sir William Compton, a favoured companion of Henry, had been seen courting Lady Anne Hastings. Perhaps because Compton was no fit paramour for a duke's sister it was thought that he was acting on Henry's behalf.

The ambassador reported, with some glee, the dramatic scenes that ensued when another sister, Lady Elizabeth Ratcliffe, informed the duke of Compton's behaviour. Buckingham quarrelled with Compton and the king before storming from the court. Anne was carried off by her husband to the safety of a nunnery and Henry ordered an emotional Katherine to dismiss Elizabeth for her meddling. Henry was clearly angry, but none of this makes it clear whether Compton or the king was in fact the guilty party. Garrett Mattingly suggests that the ambassador was relying on gossip fed to him by one of Katherine's former ladies-in-waiting, Francesca de Carceres. If this was the case, neither of them was sufficiently close to the centre of things to know exactly what had been going on. Since Don Luis was primarily concerned with demonstrating how much Katherine was in need of his advice and counsel, he was probably all too willing to believe that the incident was more significant than it really was.