Henry VIII (55 page)

The Queen's pregnancy progressed well. Late in May she appeared at Hampton Court in an open-laced gown, and on Trinity Sunday Te Deum was sung in St. Paul's and other churches throughout the realm “for joy of the Queen's quickening of child.”
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But in June, there occurred another, more virulent outbreak of plague, which drove the court to Windsor and a fearful Jane to an over-rigorous observance of holy days and fast days, much to everyone's concern. Lord Hussey wrote to Lady Lisle, “Your Ladyship could not believe how much the Queen is afraid of the sickness.”
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In London, the pestilence was killing off a hundred victims every week, and the King forbade anyone from the City to approach the court. He cancelled his plans for a large-scale hunting progress, concerned that the Queen, “being but a woman, upon some sudden and displeasant rumours that might by foolish or light persons be blown abroad in our absence, being so far from her, might take to her stomach such impressions as might engender no little danger or displeasure to the infant.”
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Instead, he confined himself to short hunting trips, staying at houses within a sixty-mile radius of his wife. His companions found him in good spirits, behaving “more like a good fellow than a king.”
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Meanwhile, Surrey was diverting the waiting court with his escapades. According to the late-sixteenth-century poets Thomas Nashe and Michael Drayton, while visiting the Lady Mary at Hunsdon in 1536, he had met a young maid of honour, Lady Elizabeth FitzGerald, the penniless ten-year-old daughter of the late Earl of Kildare. Surrey immediately conceived a romantic yet platonic affection for this child, and immortalised her in a sonnet as “Fair Geraldine,” in imitation of Petrarch's love poems to Laura. The courtiers were intrigued by this odd affair, but even more amused when they learned that the hotheaded young Earl had been imprisoned at Windsor for punching Lord Beauchamp in the face within the verge of the court. Beauchamp had provoked the attack by suggesting that Surrey was sympathetic to Aske and his rebels; thanks to the intervention of Cromwell, and the fact that the Earl was known to be loyal, the King was inclined to be sympathetic. Surrey remained in confinement for only two weeks, and spent the time writing verses, among them the poignant poem recalling his years at Windsor with Richmond.

Lady Lisle, who had been unsuccessful the previous year, was still desperately trying to get her daughters, Anne and Katherine Basset, accepted in the Queen's household. To this end, she assiduously dispatched braces of the quails Jane craved from Calais.
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While eating some at dinner one day, the Queen told the Lisles' agent, John Husee, that she would take one of Lady Lisle's girls as a maid of honour, but wished to see them both before deciding which. They were to travel from Calais and present themselves, suitably dressed, at court. The girl chosen must be “sober, sad, wise and discreet, and lowly above all things, and be obedient, and governed and ruled by my Lady Rutland and my Lady Sussex, and serve God and be virtuous, and be sober of tongue.”
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The Queen ceremonially took to her chamber at Hampton Court on 16 September. To minimise the risk of plague, Henry moved with his riding household to Esher, where he would await news of the birth.
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From there, he issued orders for a Garter stall to be prepared at Windsor for the expected prince.

On 17 September, Lady Lisle's daughters arrived, and Jane chose the younger, Anne Basset, who had been educated in France and was highly accomplished. She was “a pretty young creature,” “fair, well-made, and behaveth her self so well that everybody praiseth her that seeth her.” The Queen had her sworn in, and commanded her mother to provide her with a new wardrobe—no French hoods or low necklines—and a maid. Anne was to become a popular figure at court, highly regarded by the King, and never lost her good reputation.

The Queen's labour was long and hard, but at the end of it, at 2 A.M. on 12 October 1537, she gave birth to the long-awaited Prince. The King was jubilant, weeping with joy as he held his son for the first time,
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and the country erupted in celebration. Hugh Latimer wrote, “We all hungered for a prince so long there was so much rejoicing as at the birth of John the Baptist.” Te Deum was again sung in St. Paul's, a two-thousand-gun salute resounded from the Tower, church bells pealed out, bonfires were lit, free wine was distributed in London, and there were processions, street parties, and civic banquets. Meanwhile, royal messengers sped off to all parts of the realm with “the most joyful news that has come to England these many years.”
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The kingdom had an heir, and the Tudor dynasty was assured. The spectre of civil war, which had threatened for so many decades, retreated into oblivion.

The Prince was to be christened in the new chapel royal at Hampton Court. In 1535–1536, the King had converted Wolsey's old chapel into a lavish Perpendicular masterpiece with Renaissance details and installed a beautiful oak fan-vaulted ceiling, carved by Richard Ridge and another master craftsman, Henry Corren,
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and painted blue and gold, with drop pendants, piping putti, and the King's motto,
“Dieu et mon Droit,”
on the arches. There were new stained glass windows, carved choir stalls and benches, paintings, tapestries, a black-and-white-chequered floor, and an organ. Pews for the King and Queen were set in a gallery above the main body of the chapel, which had crystal windows and was approached through two richly appointed “holyday closets” with battened and gilded ceilings.
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The arms of the King and Queen were set in stone plaques either side of the chapel door, where they may be seen today.

The Prince was brought here on the evening of Sunday, 15 October, in a magnificent torchlit procession, led by knights, ushers, squires, and household officers, followed by bishops, abbots, and the clergy of the Chapel Royal, the entire Privy Council, foreign ambassadors, and many lords, among them the Earl of Wiltshire. Then came the Lady Elizabeth, just four, borne in the arms of Lord Beauchamp and carrying her brother's richly embroidered white baptismal robe and the chrysom oil. The Prince followed, on a cushion held by the Marchioness of Exeter, with Norfolk supporting his head and Suffolk his feet, all walking under a canopy of cloth of gold supported by four Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber. The Prince's long velvet train was carried by the Earl of Arundel, who was followed by the baby's nurse, Sybil Penn, and the midwife who had delivered him. The Lady Mary, who was to be the Prince's godmother, walked behind, attended by many ladies. Although there were four hundred people present, numbers had been restricted for fear of plague.

In the chapel royal, at midnight, Archbishop Cranmer baptised the Prince with the name Edward, after St. Edward the Confessor, in the silver-gilt font which had been set up on a dais draped with cloth of gold. Nearby was a cubicle formed of tapestries, in which were set a basin of perfumed water and a charcoal brazier, so that the infant should not catch cold when he was undressed. Suffolk, Norfolk, and Cranmer were godfathers. Garter King of Arms then cried: “God, of His almighty and infinite grace, give and grant good life and long to the right high, right excellent and noble Prince Edward, Duke of Cornwall and Earl of Chester, most dear and entirely beloved son to our most dread and gracious lord, King Henry VIII!”

After the final Te Deum, the procession re-formed and, to the sound of trumpets, the Prince was borne back to the Queen's apartments, where his parents were waiting to receive him and their guests. The Queen, wearing a mantle of crimson velvet furred with ermine, was lying on a rich pallet bed, propped up on cushions of crimson damask and cloth of gold, with the King sitting beside her. After Jane had given her son her blessing, the King took him in his arms and, weeping for joy, blessed him in the name of God, the Virgin Mary, and St. George. The young Duchess of Suffolk then took the baby back to his nursery, and refreshments were served: hippocras and wafers for the nobility, bread and wine for the rest. Henry then gave alms to be distributed among the poor who had gathered at the palace gates. It was nearly morning before the guests kissed the hands of the King and Queen and departed.
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Three days later, on 18 October, Prince Edward was proclaimed Prince of Wales,
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although he would never be formally created as such. On the same day, several lords were ennobled. The Prince's uncle, Lord Beauchamp, whose future prominence and influence were now assured, was created Earl of Hertford, and Sir William Fitzwilliam was promoted to Earl of Southampton. He had been appointed Lord High Admiral in place of Richmond in 1536; a portrait of him holding his staff of office, painted by Holbein in 1542, hung in his house at Cowdray, near Mid-hurst, Sussex.
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The King also knighted several courtiers, notably Thomas Seymour, Hertford's younger brother, an ambitious but dangerous hothead, who had until recently been in the service of Sir Francis Bryan. Henry now promoted him to the Privy Chamber, and used him on several diplomatic missions. Seymour was a lusty man, in great favour with the ladies, but shallow and unscrupulous, and ever jealous of his elder brother, in whose shadow he was doomed to live.

Thomas Wyatt was also knighted, and was given the dissolved abbey of Boxley, Kent, which he made his country seat. In 1537, his marriage to Elizabeth Brooke was finally dissolved, and he married Jane Haute, a distant connection of the King's grandmother, Elizabeth Wydeville, queen of Edward IV. Despite his aversion for court life, Wyatt now made a career of diplomacy, and from 1537 to 1539 served as ambassador to Charles V.

Another rising courtier who was dubbed knight was William Parr, son of Sir Thomas Parr, a former Comptroller of the Household, and brother of the future Queen Katherine. Born in 1513, he had been educated at Cambridge; then, thanks to the influence of his uncle, William, Lord Parr of Horton, who made suit to Cromwell, he was admitted to the Privy Chamber. Both Cromwell and Norfolk recommended him for a knighthood. In 1526, Parr had married Anne, heiress of the last Bourchier Earl of Essex, whose title and vast estates Parr was to inherit.
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A close ally of the Seymours, Parr was an amiable man with a “florid fancy and wit.”
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He loved music and poetry, and aspired to be a soldier, but never showed much aptitude for a military career.

In the royal household, Sir William Paulet was now made Treasurer, while Sir John Russell was appointed Comptroller in his place.

Before her son was many days old, Queen Jane contracted puerperal fever, probably as a result of unhygienic obstetric methods employed during her confinement. Her attendants swathed her in furs and gave her the rich foods she asked for,
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but her condition grew worse, and on 24 October she died. The King was at Hampton Court at the time, having postponed a hunting trip to Esher to be at her side. After her death, he immediately left for Whitehall, and shut himself away to mourn in private.
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Kings did not customarily attend the obsequies of their spouses.

Henry had observed only perfunctory mourning for his two previous wives, and since full-scale court mourning for a queen had not been decreed since the death of Elizabeth of York in 1503, Norfolk, who was in charge of the Queen's obsequies because the King was “too broken” to order them, was obliged to ask Garter Herald to study precedents. The wearing of mourning garments was governed by sumptuary laws and complex household ordinances, many of them laid down by Lady Margaret Beaufort, who specified the length of trains; the size of hoods, which must not cover the face; and the width of mourning barbs, which could only be worn over the chin by ladies of noble estate.
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Mourning was issued to everyone in the royal household by the Great Wardrobe, in materials appropriate to the degree of the wearer. Kings wore purple or white mourning; everyone else wore black.

Jane Seymour's solemn obsequies lasted for three weeks. Because long periods usually elapsed between the death and burial of a royal personage, the corpse was always embalmed. In 1503, the body of Elizabeth of York had been treated with certain chemicals, wrapped in seventy-five yards of waxed and spiced Holland cloth, then sealed in a lead coffin draped with a black velvet pall with a white damask cross.

Queen Jane's body was dressed in gold tissue and laid out in her presence chamber, with a crown on her head and rings on her fingers. The Lady Mary, who was chief mourner, and the ladies of the Queen's household took turns to keep perpetual vigil on their knees beside the bier, which was surrounded by twenty-one wax tapers, while dirges were sung and masses offered for the soul of the departed. The body remained in the presence chamber for a week before it was embalmed, coffined, and moved to the chapel royal, which had been hung with black cloth and decorated with rich images. Around the hearse were banners depicting the Queen's noble lineage. A herald required all present, “of their charity,” to pray for their late mistress's soul. Priests watched over the corpse by night, Mary Tudor and the ladies by day.

Regal funerals, like every other aspect of royal life, were occasions for magnificent display, designed to impress upon observers, through ceremonial processions, pageantry, heraldry, and pomp, the high status of the deceased, which was also reflected in elaborate tombs. It was customary for a wax effigy of the dead king or queen, complete with crown and sceptre, to be placed on the bier; such an effigy was carried at Jane Seymour's funeral.

On 8 November, “in presence of many pensive hearts,” the body of the Queen was taken in a solemn procession to Windsor “with all the pomp and majesty that could be”; on 12 November it was buried in a vault in the choir of St. George's Chapel. Norfolk ordered twelve thousand masses to be said in London churches for her soul,
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while the King arranged for twelve to be said privately. Henry planned to raise a splendid tomb to his wife's memory, bearing an effigy of Jane sweetly sleeping, surrounded by marble figures of children with baskets of the flowers she had loved so much,
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but it was never built.