1501-1509
KATHARINE'S WIDOWHOOD AND WHY SHE STAYED IN ENGLAND
The arrival of Katharine in England as his son's affianced wife meant very
much for Henry VII. and his house. He had already, by a master-stroke of
diplomacy, betrothed his eldest daughter to the King of Scots, and was
thus safe from French intrigue on his vulnerable northern border, whilst
the new King of France was far too apprehensive of Ferdinand's coalition
to arouse the active enmity of England. The presence of Ferdinand's
daughter on English soil completed the security against attack upon Henry
from abroad. It is true that the Yorkists and their friends were still
plotting: "Solicited, allured and provoked, by that old venomous serpent,
the Duchess of Burgundy, ever the sower of sedition and beginner of
rebellion against the King of England;"[3] but Henry knew well that with
Katharine at his Court he could strike a death-blow, as he soon did, at
his domestic enemies, without fear of reprisals from her brother-in-law
Philip, the present sovereign of Burgundy and Flanders.
Messengers were sent galloping to London to carry to the King the great
news of Katharine's arrival at Plymouth; but the roads were bad, and it
was not Henry's way to spoil his market by a show of over-eagerness, and
though he sent forward the Duchess of Norfolk and the Earl of Surrey to
attend upon the Princess on her way towards London, the royal party did
not set out from Shene Palace to meet her until the 4th November.
Travelling through a drenching rain by short stages from one seat to
another, Henry VII. and his daughter-in-law gradually approached each
other with their splendid troops of followers, all muffled up, we are
told, in heavy rain cloaks to shield their finery from the inclemency of
an English winter. Young Arthur, coming from the seat of his government in
Wales, met his father near Chertsey, and together they continued their
journey towards the west. On the third day, as they rode over the
Hampshire downs, they saw approaching them a group of horsemen, the leader
of which dismounted and saluted the King in Latin with a message from
Ferdinand and Isabel. Ladies in Spain were kept in strict seclusion until
their marriage, and the messenger, who was the Protonotary Canazares, sent
with Katharine to England to see that Spanish etiquette was not violated,
prayed in the name of his sovereigns that the Infanta should not be seen
by the King, and especially by the bridegroom, until the public marriage
was performed. This was a part of the bargain that the cautious Puebla had
not mentioned, and Henry was puzzled at such a request in his own realm,
where no such oriental regard for women was known. Hastily taking counsel
of the nobles on horseback about him, he decided that, as the Infanta was
in England, she must abide by English customs. Indeed the demand for
seclusion seems to have aroused the King's curiosity, for, putting spurs
to his horse, with but a small following, and leaving the boy bridegroom
behind, he galloped on to Dogmersfield, at no great distance away, where
the Infanta was awaiting his arrival. When he came to the house in which
she lodged, he found a little group of horrified Spanish prelates and
nobles, the Archbishop of Santiago, the Bishop of Majorca, and Count
Cabra, at the door of the Infanta's apartments, barring entrance. The
Princess had, they said, retired to her chamber and ought not to be
disturbed. There was no restraining a king in his own realm, however, and
Henry brushed the group aside. "Even if she were in bed," he said, "he
meant to see and speak with her, for that was the whole intent of his
coming."
Finding that Spanish etiquette would not be observed in England, Katharine
made the best of matters and received Henry graciously, though evidently
her Latin and French were different from his; for they were hardly
intelligible to one another. Then, after the King had changed his
travelling garb, he sent word that he had a present for the Princess; and
led in the blushing Prince Arthur to the presence of his bride. The
conversation now was more easily conducted, for the Latin-speaking bishops
were close by to interpret. Once more, and for the fourth time, the young
couple formally pledged their troth; and then after supper the Spanish
minstrels played, and the ladies and gentlemen of Katharine's suite
danced: young Arthur, though unable to dance in the Spanish way, trod an
English measure with Lady Guildford to show that he was not unversed in
courtly graces.[4]
Arthur appears to have been a slight, fair, delicate lad, amiable and
gentle, and not so tall as his bride, who was within a month of sixteen
years, Arthur being just over fifteen. Katharine must have had at this
time at least the grace of girlhood, though she never can have been a
great beauty. Like most of her mother's house she had pale, rather hard,
statuesque features and ruddy hair. As we trace her history we shall see
that most of her mistakes in England, and she made many, were the natural
result of the uncompromising rigidity of principle arising from the
conviction of divine appointment which formed her mother's system. She had
been brought up in the midst of a crusading war, in which the victors drew
their inspiration, and ascribed their triumph, to the special intervention
of the Almighty in their favour; and already Katharine's house had assumed
as a basis of its family faith that the cause of God was indissolubly
linked with that of the sovereigns of Castile and Leon. It was impossible
that a woman brought up in such a school could be opportunist, or would
bend to the petty subterfuges and small complaisances by which men are
successfully managed; and Katharine suffered through life from the
inflexibility born of self-conscious rectitude.
Slowly through the rain the united cavalcades travelled back by Chertsey;
and the Spanish half then rode to Kingston, where the Duke of Buckingham,
with four hundred retainers in black and scarlet, met the bride, and so
to the palace at Kennington hard by Lambeth, where Katharine was lodged
until the sumptuous preparations for the public marriage at St. Paul's
were completed. To give a list of all the splendours that preceded the
wedding would be as tedious as it is unnecessary; but a general impression
of the festivities as they struck a contemporary will give us a far better
idea than a close catalogue of the wonderful things the Princess saw as
she rode her white palfrey on the 12th November through Southwark, over
London Bridge, and by Cheapside to the Bishop of London's house adjoining
St. Paul's. "And, because I will not be tedious to you, I pass over the
wise devices, the prudent speeches, the costly works, the cunning
portraitures, practised and set forth in seven beautiful pageants erected
and set up in divers places of the city. I leave also the goodaly ballds,
the sweet harmony, the musical instruments, which sounded with heavenly
noise in every side of the street. I omit the costly apparel, both of
goldsmith's work and embroidery, the rich jewels, the massy chains, the
stirring horses, the beautiful bards, and the glittering trappers, both
with bells and spangles of gold. I pretermit also the rich apparel of the
Princess, the strange fashion of the Spanish nation, the beauty of the
English ladies, the goodly demeanour of the young damosels, the amorous
countenance of the lusty bachelors. I pass over the fine engrained
clothes, the costly furs of the citizens, standing upon scaffolds, railed
from Gracechurch to St. Paul's. What should I speak of the odoriferous
scarlets, and fine velvet and pleasant furs, and rich chains, which the
Mayor of London with the Senate, sitting on horseback at the little
conduit in Chepe, ware upon their bodies and about their necks. I will not
molest you with rehearsing the rich arras, the costly tapestry, the fine
cloths of silver and of gold, the curious velvets and satins, the pleasant
silks, which did hang in every street where she passed; the wine that ran
out of the conduits, the gravelling and railing of the streets, and all
else that needeth not remembring."[5] In short, we may conclude that
Katharine's passage through London before her wedding was as triumphal as
the citizens could make it. Even the common people knew that her presence
in England made for security and peace, and her Lancastrian descent from
John of Gaunt seemed to add promise of legitimacy to future heirs to the
crown.
A long raised gangway of timber handsomely draped ran from the great west
door of St. Paul's to the entrance to the choir. Near the end of the
gangway there was erected upon it a high platform, reached by steps on
each side, with room on the top for eight persons to stand. On the north
side of the platform sat the King and Queen incognito in a tribune
supposed to be private; whilst the corporation of London were ranged on
the opposite side. The day of the ceremony was the 14th November 1501,
Sunday and the day of St. Erkenwald, and all London was agog to see the
show. Nobles and knights from every corner of the realm, glittering and
flashing in their new finery, had come to do honour to the heir of
England and his bride. Both bride and bridegroom were dressed in white
satin, and they stood together, a comely young pair, upon the high scarlet
stage to be married for the fifth time, on this occasion by the Archbishop
of Canterbury. Then, after mass had been celebrated at the high altar with
Archbishops, and mitred prelates by the dozen, a procession was formed to
lead the newly married couple to the Bishop of London's palace across the
churchyard. The stately bride, looking older than her years, came first,
followed by a hundred ladies; and whilst on her left hand there hobbled
the disreputable, crippled old ambassador, Dr. Puebla, the greatest day of
whose life this was, on the other side the Princess was led by the most
engaging figure in all that vast assembly. It was that of a graceful
little boy of ten years in white velvet and gold; his bearing so gallant
and sturdy, his skin so dazzlingly fair, his golden hair so shining, his
smile so frank, that a rain of blessings showered upon him as he passed.
This was the bridegroom's brother, Henry, Duke of York, who in gay
unconsciousness was leading his own fate by the hand.
Again the details of crowds of lords and ladies in their sumptuous
garments, of banquets and dancing, of chivalric jousts and puerile
maskings, may be left to the imagination of the reader. When magnificence
at last grew palling, the young bride and bridegroom were escorted to
their chamber in the Bishop of London's palace, with the broad
suggestiveness then considered proper in all well-conducted weddings, and
duly recorded in this case by the courtly chroniclers of the times. In
the morning Arthur called at the door of the nuptial chamber to his
attendants for a draught of liquor. To the bantering question of the
chamberlain as to the cause of his unaccustomed thirst, it was not
unnatural, considering the free manners of the day, that the Prince should
reply in a vein of boyish boastfulness, with a suggestion which was
probably untrue regarding the aridity of the Spanish climate and his own
prowess as being the causes of his droughtiness. In any case this
indelicate bit of youthful swagger of Arthur's was made, nearly thirty
years afterwards, one of the principal pieces of evidence gravely brought
forward to prove the illegality of Katharine's marriage with Henry.
On the day following the marriage the King and Queen came in full state to
congratulate the newly married pair, and led them to the abode that had
been elaborately prepared for them at Baynard's Castle, whose ancient keep
frowned over the Thames, below Blackfriars. On the Thursday following the
feast was continued at Westminster with greater magnificence than ever. In
a splendid tribune extending from Westminster Hall right across what is
now Parliament Square sat Katharine with all the royal family and the
Court, whilst the citizens crowded the stands on the other side of the
great space reserved for the tilters. Invention was exhausted by the
greater nobles in the contrivances by which they sought to make their
respective entries effective. One had borne over him a green erection
representing a wooded mount, crowded with allegorical animals; another
rode under a tent of cloth of gold, and yet another pranced into the lists
mounted upon a stage dragon led by a fearsome giant; and so the pageantry
that seems to us so trite, and was then considered so exquisite, unrolled
itself before the enraptured eyes of the lieges who paid for it all. How
gold plate beyond valuation was piled upon the sideboards at the great
banquet after the tilt in Westminster Hall, how Katharine and one of her
ladies danced Spanish dances and Arthur led out his aunt Cicely, how
masques and devices innumerable were paraded before the hosts and guests,
and, above all, how the debonair little Duke of York charmed all hearts by
his dancing with his elder sister; and, warming to his work, cast off his
coat and footed it in his doublet, cannot be told here, nor the ceremony
in which Katharine distributed rich prizes a few days afterwards to the
successful tilters. There was more feasting and mumming at Shene to
follow, but at last the celebration wore itself out, and Arthur and his
wife settled down for a time to married life in their palace at Baynard's
Castle.
King Henry in his letter to the bride's parents, expresses himself as
delighted with her "beauty and agreeable and dignified manners," and
promises to be to her "a second father, who will ever watch over her, and
never allow her to lack anything that he can procure for her." How he kept
his promise we shall see later; but there is no doubt that her marriage
with his son was a great relief to him, and enabled him, first to cast his
net awide and sweep into its meshes all the gentry of England who might be
presumed to wish him ill, and secondly to send Empson and Dudley abroad to
wring from the well-to-do classes the last ducat that could be squeezed
in order that he might buttress his throne with wealth. Probably Arthur's
letter to Ferdinand and Isabel written at the same time (November 30,
1501) was drafted by other hands than his own, but the terms in which he
expresses his satisfaction with his wife are so warm that they doubtless
reflect the fact that he really found her pleasant. "He had never," he
assured them, "felt so much joy in his life as when he beheld the sweet
face of his bride, and no woman in the world could be more agreeable to
him."[6] The honeymoon was a short, and could hardly have been a merry,
one; for Arthur was obviously a weakling, consumptive some chroniclers
aver; and the grim old castle by the river was not a lively abode.
Before the marriage feast were well over, Henry's avarice began to make
things unpleasant for Katharine. We have seen how persistent he had been
in his demands that the dowry should be paid to him in gold, and how the
bride's parents had pressed that the jewels and plate she took with her
should be considered as part of the dowry. On Katharine's wedding the
first instalment of 100,000 crowns had been handed to Henry by the
Archbishop of Santiago, and there is no doubt that in the negotiations
Puebla had, as usual with him, thought to smooth matters by concealing
from both sovereigns the inconvenient conditions insisted by each of them.
Henry therefore imagined--he said that he was led to believe it by
Puebla--that the jewels and plate were to be surrendered to him on a
valuation as part of the second instalment; whereas the bride's parents
were allowed to suppose that Katharine would still have the enjoyment of
them. In the middle of December, therefore, Henry sent for Juan de Cuero,
Katharine's chamberlain, and demanded the valuables as an instalment of
the remaining 100,000 crowns of the dowry. Cuero, astounded at such a
request, replied that it would be his duty to have them weighed and valued
and a list given to the King in exchange for a receipt for their value,
but that he had not to give them up. The King, highly irate at what he
considered an evasion of his due, pressed his demand, but without avail,
and afterwards saw Katharine herself at Baynard's Castle in the presence
of Dona Elvira Manuel, her principal lady in waiting.
What was the meaning of it, he asked, as he told her of Cuero's refusal to
surrender her valuables in fulfilment of the promise, and further exposed
Puebla's double-dealing. Puebla, it appears, had gone to the King, and had
suggested that if his advice was followed the jewels would remain in
England, whilst their value would be paid to Henry in money as well. He
had, he assured the King, already gained over Katharine to the plan, which
briefly was to allow the Princess to use the jewels and plate for the
present, so that when the time came for demanding their surrender her
father and mother would be ashamed of her being deprived of them, and
would pay their value in money. Henry explained to Katharine that he was
quite shocked at such a dishonest suggestion, which he refused, he said,
to entertain. He had therefore asked for the valuables at once as he saw
that there was craft at work, and he would be no party to it. He
acknowledged, however, that the jewels were not due to be delivered until
the last payment on account of the dowry had to be made. It was all
Puebla's fault, he assured his daughter-in-law, which was probably true,
though it will be observed that the course pursued allowed Henry to assert
his eventual claim to the surrender of the jewels, and his many
professions of disinterestedness cloaked the crudeness of his demand.
The next day Henry sent for Bishop Ayala, who was Puebla's colleague and
bitter enemy, and told him that Prince Arthur must be sent to Wales soon,
and that much difference of opinion existed as to whether Katharine should
accompany him. What did Ayala advise? The Spaniard thought that the
Princess should remain with the King and Queen in London for the present,
rather than go to Wales where the Prince must necessarily be absent from
her a good deal, and she would be lonely. When Katharine herself was
consulted by Henry she would express no decided opinion; and Arthur was
worked upon by his father to persuade her to say that she wished to go to
Wales. Finding that Katharine still avoided the expression of an opinion,
Henry, with a great show of sorrow, decided that she should accompany
Arthur. Then came the question of the maintenance of the Princess's
household. Puebla had again tried to please every one by saying that Henry
would provide a handsome dotation for the purpose, but when Dona Elvira
Manuel, on the eve of the journey to Wales, asked the King what provision
he was going to make, he feigned the utmost surprise at the question. He
knew nothing about it, he said. The Prince would of course maintain his
wife and her necessary servants, but no special separate grant could be
made to the Princess. When Puebla was brought to book he threw the blame
upon the members of Katharine's household, and was publicly rebuked by
Henry for his shiftiness. But the Spaniards believed, probably with
reason, that the whole comedy was agreed upon between the King and Puebla
to obtain possession of the plate and jewels or their value: the sending
of the Princess to Wales being for the purpose of making it necessary that
she should use the objects, and so give good grounds for a demand for
their value in money on the part of Henry. In any case Katharine found
herself, only five weeks after her marriage, with an unpaid and
inharmonious household, dependent entirely upon her husband for her needs,
and conscious that an artful trick was in full execution with the object
of either depriving her of her personal jewels, and everything of value,
with which she had furnished her husband's table as well as her own, or
else of extorting a large sum of money from her parents. Embittered
already with such knowledge as this, Katharine rode by her husband's side
out of Baynard's Castle on the 21st December 1501 to continue on the long
journey to Wales,[7] after passing their Christmas at Oxford.
The plague was rife throughout England, and on the 2nd April 1502 Arthur,
Prince of Wales, fell a victim to it at Ludlow. Here was an unforeseen
blow that threatened to deprive both Henry and Ferdinand of the result of
their diplomacy. For Ferdinand the matter was of the utmost importance;
for an approachment of England and Scotland to France would upset the
balance of power he had so laboriously constructed, already threatened, as
it was, by the prospect that his Flemish son-in-law Philip and his wife
would wear the crowns of the Empire, Flanders, and Burgundy, as well as
those of Spain and its possessions; in which case, he thought, Spanish
interests would be the last considered. The news of the unexpected
catastrophe was greeted in London with real sorrow, for Arthur was
promising and popular, and both Henry and his queen were naturally
attached to their elder son, just approaching manhood, upon whose training
they had lavished so much care. Though Henry's grief at his loss may have
been as sincere as that of Elizabeth of York certainly was, his natural
inclinations soon asserted themselves. Ludlow was unhealthy, and after the
pompous funeral of Arthur at Worcester, Katharine and her household prayed
earnestly to be allowed to approach London, but for some weeks without
success, and by the time she arrived at her new abode at Croydon, the
political intrigues of which she was the tool were in full swing again.
When Ferdinand and Isabel first heard the news of their daughter's
bereavement at the beginning of May they were at Toledo, and lost no time
in sending off post haste to England a fresh ambassador with special
instructions from themselves. The man they chose was the Duke de Estrada,
whose only recommendation seems to have been his rank, for Puebla was soon
able to twist him round his finger. His mission, as we now know, was an
extraordinary and delicate one. Ostensibly he was to demand the immediate
return of the 100,000 crowns paid to Henry on account of dowry, and the
firm settlement upon Katharine of the manors and rents, securing to her
the revenue assigned to her in England, and at the same time he was to
urge Henry to send Katharine back to Spain at once. But these things were
really the last that Ferdinand desired. He knew full well that Henry would
go to any length to avoid disgorging the dowry, and secret instructions
were given to Estrada to effect a betrothal between the ten-years-old
Henry, Duke of York, and his brother's widow of sixteen. Strict orders
also were sent to Puebla of a character to forward the secret design,
although he was not fully informed of the latter. He was to press amongst
other things that Katharine might receive her English revenue
punctually--Katharine, it appears, had written to her parents, saying that
she had been advised to borrow money for the support of her household; and
the King and Queen of Spain were indignant at such an idea. Not a
farthing, they said, must she be allowed to borrow, and none of her jewels
sold: the King of England must provide for her promptly and handsomely,
in accordance with his obligations. This course, as the writers well
knew, would soon bring Henry VII. himself to propose the marriage for
which Ferdinand was so anxious. Henry professed himself very ready to make
the settlement of the English income as requested, but in such case, he
claimed that the whole of the Spanish dowry in gold must be paid to him.
Ferdinand could not see it in this light at all, and insisted that the
death of Arthur had dissolved the marriage. This fencing went on for some
time, neither party wishing to be the first to propose the indecorous
marriage with Henry that both desired.[8] It is evident that Puebla and
the chaplain Alexander opposed the match secretly, and endeavoured to
thwart it, either from an idea of its illegality or, more probably, with a
view of afterwards bringing it about themselves. In the midst of this
intrigue the King of France suddenly attacked Ferdinand both in Italy and
on the Catalonian frontier, and made approaches to Henry for the marriage
of his son with a French princess. This hurried the pace in Spain, and
Queen Isabel ordered Estrada to carry through the betrothal of Katharine
and her brother-in-law without loss of time, "for any delay would be
dangerous." So anxious were the Spanish sovereigns that nothing should
stand in the way, that they were willing to let the old arrangement about
the dowry stand, Henry retaining the 100,000 crowns already paid, and
receiving, when the marriage was consummated, the remaining 100,000; on
condition that in the meanwhile Katharine was properly maintained in
England. Even the incestuous nature of the union was to be no bar to its
being effected, though no Papal dispensation had been yet obtained. Isabel
sought salve for her conscience in this respect by repeating Dona Elvira
Manuel's assurance that Katharine still remained intact; her marriage with
Arthur not having been consummated. To lure Henry into an armed alliance
against France once more, the old bait of the recovery of Normandy and
Guienne was dangled before him. But the King of England played with a
firmer hand now. He knew his worth as a balancing factor, his accumulated
treasure made him powerful, and he held all the cards in his hand; for the
King of Scots was his son-in-law, and the French were as anxious for his
smiles as were the Spanish sovereigns. So he stood off and refused to
pledge himself to a hostile alliance.
In view of this Ferdinand and Isabel's tone changed, and they developed a
greater desire than ever to have their daughter--and above all her
dowry--returned to them. "We cannot endure," wrote Isabel to Estrada on
the 10th August 1502, "that a daughter whom we love should be so far away
from us in her trouble.... You shall ... tell the King of England that you
have our orders to freight vessels for her voyage. To this end you must
make such a show of giving directions and preparing for the voyage that
the members of the Princess's household may believe that it is true. Send
also some of her household on board with the captain I am now sending you
... and show all signs of departure." If in consequence the English spoke
of the betrothal with young Henry, the ambassador was to show no desire
for it; but was to listen keenly to all that was proposed, and if the
terms were acceptable he might clinch the matter at once without further
reference. And then the saintly Queen concludes thus: "The one object of
this business is to bring the betrothal to a conclusion as soon as
possible in conformity with your instructions. For then all our anxiety
will cease and we shall be able to seek the aid of England against France,
for this is the most efficient aid we can have." Henry was not for the
moment to be frightened by fresh demands for his armed alliance against
France. The betrothal was to be forwarded first, and then the rest would
follow. Puebla, who was quite confident that he alone could carry on the
marriage negotiation successfully, was also urged by mingled flattery and
threats by his sovereign to do his utmost with that end.
Whilst this diplomatic haggling was going on in London for the disposal of
the widowed Katharine to the best advantage, a blow fell that for a moment
changed the aspect of affairs. Elizabeth of York, the wife of Henry VII.,
died on the 11th February 1503, in the Tower of London, a week after
giving birth to her seventh child. She had been a good and submissive wife
to the King, whose claim to the throne she had fortified by her own
greater right; and we are told that the bereaved husband was "heavy and
dolorous" with his loss when he retired to a solitary place to pass his
sorrow; but before many weeks were over he and his crony Puebla put their
crafty heads together, and agreed that the King might marry his widowed
daughter-in-law himself. The idea was cynically repulsive but it gives us
the measure of Henry's unscrupulousness. Puebla conveyed the hint to
Isabel and Ferdinand, who, to do them justice, appeared to be really
shocked at the suggestion. This time (April 1503) the Spanish sovereigns
spoke with more sincerity than before. They were, they told their
ambassador, tired of Henry's shiftiness, and of their daughter's equivocal
and undignified position in England, now that the Queen was dead and the
betrothal still hung fire. The Princess was really to come to Spain in a
fleet that should be sent for her, unless the marriage with the young
Prince of Wales was agreed to at once. As for a wife for King Henry there
was the widowed Queen of Naples, Ferdinand's niece, who lived in Valencia,
and he might have her with the blessing of the Spanish sovereigns.[9] The
suggestion was a tempting one to Henry, for the Queen of Naples was well
dowered, and the vigour of Isabel's refusal to listen to his marriage with
her daughter, made it evident that that was out of the question. So Henry
at last made up his mind at least to execute the treaty which was to
betroth his surviving son to Katharine. In the treaty, which was signed on
the 23rd June 1503, it is set forth that, inasmuch as the bride and
bridegroom were related in the first degree of affinity, a Papal
dispensation would be necessary for the marriage; and it is distinctly
stated that the marriage with Arthur had been consummated. This may have
been a diplomatic form considered at the time unimportant in view of the
ease with which a dispensation could be obtained, but it is at direct
variance with Dona Elvira Manuel's assurance to Isabel at the time of
Arthur's death, and with Katharine's assertion, uncontradicted by Henry,
to the end of her life.
Henry, Prince of Wales, was at this time twelve years old; and, if we are
to believe Erasmus, a prodigy of precocious scholarship. Though his
learning was superficial and carefully made the most of, he was, in
effect, an apt and diligent student. From the first his mother and father
had determined that their children should enjoy better educational
advantages than had fallen to them, and as Henry had been until Arthur's
death intended for the Church, his learning was far in advance of that of
most princes and nobles of his age. The bride, who thus became unwillingly
affianced to a boy more than five years her junior, was now a young woman
in her prime, experienced already in the chicane and falsity of the
atmosphere in which she lived. She knew, none better, that in the juggle
for her marriage she had been regarded as a mere chattel, and her own
inclinations hardly taken into account, and she faced her responsibilities
bravely in her mother's exalted spirit of duty and sacrifice when she
found herself once more Princess of Wales.
When Ferdinand, in accordance with his pledge in the treaty, instructed
his ambassador in Rome to ask for the Pope's dispensation, he took care to
correct the statement embodied in the document to the effect that the
marriage of Arthur and Katharine had been consummated; though the question
might pertinently be asked, why, if it had not been, a dispensation was
needed at all? The King himself answered the question by saying that "as
the English are so much inclined to cavil, it appeared prudent to provide
for the case as if the previous marriage had been completed; and the
dispensation must be worded in accordance with the treaty, since the
succession to the Crown depends on the undoubted legitimacy of the
marriage."[10] No sooner was the ratification of the betrothal conveyed to
Ferdinand than he demanded the aid of Henry against France, and Estrada
was instructed to "make use of" Katharine to obtain the favour demanded.
If Henry hesitated to provide the money for raising the 2000 English
troops required, Katharine herself was to be asked by her kind father to
pawn her plate and jewels for the purpose. Henry, however, had no
intention to be hurried now that the betrothal had been signed. There were
several things he wanted on his side first. The Earl of Suffolk and his
brother Richard Pole were still in Flanders; and the greatest wish of
Henry's life was that they should be handed over to his tender mercies.
So the armed coalition against France still hung fire, whilst a French
ambassador was as busy courting the King of England as Ferdinand himself.
In the meanwhile Katharine for a time lived in apparent amity with Henry
and his family, especially with the young Princess Mary, who was her
constant companion. In the autumn of 1504 she passed a fortnight with them
at Windsor and Richmond, hunting every day; but just as the King was
leaving Greenwich for a progress through Kent the Princess fell seriously
ill, and the letters written by Henry during his absence to his
daughter-in-law are worded as if he were the most affectionate of fathers.
On this progress the Prince of Wales accompanied his father for the first
time, as the King had previously been loath to disturb his studies. "It is
quite wonderful," wrote an observer, "how much the King loves the Prince.
He has good reason to do so, for he deserves all his love." Already the
crafty and politic King was indoctrinating his son in the system he had
made his own: that the command of ready money, gained no matter how, meant
power, and that to hold the balance between two greater rivals was to have
them both at his bidding. And young Henry, though of different nature from
his father, made good use of his lesson.
Katharine's greatest trouble at this time (the autumn of 1504) was the
bickering, and worse, of her Spanish household. We have already seen how
Puebla had set them by the ears with his jealousy of his colleagues and
his dodging diplomacy. Katharine appealed to Henry to bring her servants
to order, but he refused to interfere, as they were not his subjects.
Dona Elvira Manuel, the governess, was a great lady, and resented any
interference with her domain.[11] There is no doubt that her rule, so far
as regarded the Princess herself, was a wise one; but, as we shall see
directly, she, Castilian that she was and sister of the famous diplomatist
Juan Manuel, took up a position inimical to Ferdinand after Isabel's
death, and innocently led Katharine into grave political trouble.
In November 1504 the death of Isabel, Queen of Castile, long threatened
after her strenuous life, changed the whole aspect for Ferdinand. The
heiress of the principal crown of Spain was now Katharine's sister Juana,
who had lived for years in the latitudinarian court of Brussels with her
consort Philip. The last time she had gone to Spain, her freedom towards
the strict religious observances considered necessary in her mother's
court had led to violent scenes between Isabel and Juana. Even then the
scandalised Spanish churchmen who flocked around Isabel whispered that the
heiress of Castile must be mad: and her foreign husband, the heir of the
empire, was hated and distrusted by the "Catholic kings." Isabel by her
will had left her husband guardian of her realms for Juana; and from the
moment the Queen breathed her last the struggle between Ferdinand and his
son-in-law never ceased, until Philip the Handsome, who thought he had
beaten wily old Ferdinand, himself was beaten by poison. The death of her
mother not only threw Katharine into natural grief for her loss, which
truly was a great one; for, at least, Isabel deeply loved her youngest
child, whilst Ferdinand loved nothing but himself and Aragon; but it
greatly altered for the worse her position in England. Philip of Austria
and his father the Emperor had begun to play false to Ferdinand long
before the Queen's death; and now that the crown of Castile had fallen to
poor weak Juana, and a struggle was seen to be impending for the regency,
Henry VII. found himself as usual courted by both sides in the dispute.
The widowed Archduchess Margaret, who had married as a first husband
Ferdinand's heir, was offered to Henry as a bride by Philip and Maximilian
and a close alliance between them proposed; and Ferdinand, whilst
denouncing his son-in-law's ingratitude, also bade high for the King of
England's countenance. Henry listened to both parties, but it was clear to
him that he had now more to hope for from Philip and Maximilian, who were
friendly with France, than from Ferdinand; and the unfortunate Katharine
was again reduced to the utmost neglect and penury, unable to buy food for
her own table, except by pawning her jewels.
In the ensuing intrigues Dona Elvira Manuel was on the side of the Queen
of Castile, as against her father; and Katharine lost the impartial advice
of her best counsellor, and involved herself in a very net of trouble. In
the summer of 1505 it was already understood that Philip and Juana on
their way to Spain by sea might possibly trust themselves in an English
port; and Henry, in order to be ready for any matrimonial combinations
that might be suggested, caused young Henry to make solemn protest before
the Bishop of Winchester at Richmond against his marriage with
Katharine.[12] Of this, at the time, of course the Spanish agents were
ignorant; and so completely was even Puebla hoodwinked, that almost to the
arrival of Philip and his wife in England he believed that Henry was in
favour of Ferdinand against Philip and Maximilian. Early in August 1505,
Puebla went to Richmond to see Katharine, and as he entered one of the
household told him that an ambassador from the Archduke Philip, King of
Castile, had just arrived and was waiting to see her. Puebla at once
himself conveyed the news to Katharine; and to his glee served as
interpreter between the ambassador and the Princess. On his knees before
her the Fleming related that he had come to propose a marriage between the
Duchess of Savoy (_i.e._ the widowed Archduchess Margaret) and Henry VII.,
and showed the Princess two portraits of the Archduchess. Furthermore, he
said that Philip and his wife were going by overland through France to
Spain, and he was to ask Henry what he thought of the plan. Puebla's eyes
were thus partially opened: and when a few days later he found that Dona
Elvira had not only contrived frequent private meetings between Katharine
and the Flemish ambassador, but had persuaded the Princess to propose a
meeting between Philip, Juana, and the King of England, he at once sounded
a note of alarm. Katharine, it must be recollected, was yet young; and
probably did not fully understand the deadly antagonism that existed
between her father and her brother-in-law. She was much under the
influence of Dona Elvira, and doubtless yearned to see her unhappy sister
Juana. So she was induced to write a letter to Philip, and to propose a
meeting with Henry at Calais. When a prompt affirmative reply came, the
Princess innocently showed it to Puebla at Durham House before sending it
to Henry VII. The ambassador was aghast, and soundly rated Katharine for
going against the interests of her father. He would take the letter to the
King, he said. But this Katharine would not allow, and Dona Elvira was
appealed to. She promised to retain the letter for the present, but just
as Puebla was sitting down to dinner an hour afterwards, he learnt that
she had broken her word and sent Philip's letter to Henry VII. Starting
up, he rushed to Katharine's apartments, and with tears streaming down his
face at his failure, told the Princess, under pledge of secrecy, that the
proposed interview was a plot of the Manuels to injure both her father and
sister. She must at once write a letter to Henry which he, Puebla, would
dictate; and, whilst still feigning a desire for the meeting, she must try
to prevent it with all her might, and beware of Dona Elvira in future.
Poor Katharine, alarmed at his vehemence, did as she was told; and the
letter was sent flying to Henry, apologising for the proposal of the
interview. Henry must have smiled when he saw how eager they all were to
court him. Nothing would please him better than the close alliance with
Philip, which was already being secretly negotiated, though he was
effusively assuring Ferdinand at the same time of the inviolability of
their friendship; promising that the marriage--which he had secretly
denounced--between his son and Katharine, should be celebrated on the very
day provided by the treaty, and approving of some secret plot of Ferdinand
against Philip which had been communicated to him.
Amidst such falsity as this it is most difficult to pick one's way, though
it is evident through it all that Henry had now gained the upper hand, and
was fully a match for Ferdinand in his altered circumstances. But as
things improved for Henry they became worse for Katharine. In December
1505 she wrote bitterly to her father from Richmond, complaining of her
fate, the unhappiness of which, she said, was all Puebla's fault. "Every
day," she wrote, "my troubles increase. Since my arrival in England I have
not received a farthing except for food, and I and my household have not
even garments to wear." She had asked Puebla to pray the King to appoint
an English duena for her whilst Dona Elvira was in Flanders, but instead
of doing so he had arranged with Henry that her household should be
dismissed altogether, and that she should reside at Court. Her letter
throughout shows that at the time she was in deep despondency and anger at
her treatment; and especially resentful of Puebla, whom she disliked and
distrusted profoundly, as did Dona Elvira Manuel. The very elements seemed
to fight on the side of the King of England. Ferdinand was, in sheer
desperation, struggling to prevent his paternal realms from being merged
in Castile and the empire, and with that end was negotiating his marriage
with the French king's niece, Germaine de Foix, and a close alliance with
France, in which England should be included, when Philip of Austria and
his wife, Juana of Aragon, Queen of Castile, sailed from Flanders to claim
their kingdom at Ferdinand's hands. They too had made friends with France
some time before, but the marriage of Ferdinand with a French princess had
now drawn them strongly to the side of England; and as we have seen, they
were already in full negotiation with Henry for his marriage with the
doubly widowed and heavily dowered Archduchess Margaret.
The King and Queen of Castile were overtaken by a furious south-west gale
in the Channel and their fine fleet dispersed. The ship that carried
Philip and Juana was driven by the storm into Melcombe Regis, on the
Dorset coast, on the 17th January 1506, and lay there weather-bound for
some time. Philip the Handsome was a poor sailor, and was, we are told by
an eye-witness, "fatigate and unquyeted in mynde and bodie." He doubtless
yearned to tread dry land again, and, against the advice of his Council,
had himself rowed ashore. Only in the previous year he had as unguardedly
put himself into the power of the King of France; and his boldness had
succeeded well, as it had resulted in the treaty with the French king that
had so much alarmed and shocked Ferdinand, but it is unlikely that Philip
on this occasion intended to make any stay in England or to go beyond
Weymouth. The news of his coming brought together all the neighbouring
gentry to oppose or welcome him, according to his demeanour, and, finding
him friendly, Sir John Trenchard prevailed upon him to take up his
residence in his manor-house hard by until the weather mended. In the
meanwhile formidable English forces mustered in the country around, and
Philip began to grow uneasy; but Trenchard's hospitality was pressing, and
to all hints from the visitor that he wanted to be gone the reply was
given that he really must wait until the King of England could bid him
welcome. When at last Philip was given to understand that he was
practically a prisoner, he made the best of the position, and with seeming
cordiality awaited King Henry's message. No wonder, as a chronicler says,
that Henry when he heard the news "was replenyshed with an exceeding
gladnes ... for that he trusted his landing in England should turn to his
profit and commoditie." This it certainly did. Philip and Juana were
brought to Windsor in great state, and met by Henry and his son and a
splendid train of nobles. Then the visitors were led through London in
state to Richmond, and Philip, amidst all the festivity, was soon
convinced that he would not be allowed to leave England until the rebel
Plantagenet Earl of Suffolk was handed to Henry. And so the pact was made
that bound England to Philip and Flanders against Ferdinand; the
Archduchess Margaret with her vast fortune being promised, with unheard-of
guarantees, to the widowed Henry.[13] When the treaty had been solemnly
ratified on oath, taken upon a fragment of the true Cross in St. George's
Chapel, Windsor, Philip was allowed to go his way on the 2nd March to join
his ship at Falmouth, whither Juana had preceded him a fortnight before.
This new treaty made poor Katharine of little value as a political asset
in England; since it was clear now that Ferdinand's hold over anything but
his paternal heritage in the Mediterranean was powerless. Flanders and
Castile were a far more advantageous ally to England than the King of
Aragon, and Katharine was promptly made to feel the fact. Dr. Puebla was
certainly either kept quite out of the way or his compliance bought, or he
would have been able to devise means for Katharine to inform her sister
Juana of the real object of Henry's treaty with Philip; for Ferdinand
always insisted that Juana was a dutiful daughter, and was not personally
opposed to him. As it was, Katharine was allowed to see her sister but for
an hour just before Juana's departure, and then in the presence of
witnesses in the interests of Philip. Only a few weeks after the visitors
had departed Katharine wrote to her father, in fear lest her letter should
be intercepted, begging him to have pity upon her. She is deep in debt,
not for extravagant things but for food. "The King of England refuses to
pay anything, though she implores him with tears to do so. He says he has
been cheated about the marriage portion. In the meanwhile she is in the
deepest anguish, her servants almost begging for alms, and she herself
nearly naked. She has been at death's door for months, and prays
earnestly for a Spanish confessor, as she cannot speak English."[14]
How false Ferdinand met his "dear children," and made with his daughter's
husband that hellish secret compact in the church of Villafafila, that
seemed to renounce everything to Philip whilst Ferdinand went humbly to
his realm of Naples, and his ill-used daughter Juana to life-long
confinement, cannot be told here, nor the sudden death of Philip the
Handsome, which brought back Ferdinand triumphant. If Juana was sane
before, she certainly became more or less mad after her husband's death,
and moreover was morbidly devoted to his memory. But what mattered madness
or a widow's devotion to Henry VII. when he had political objects to
serve? All through the summer and autumn of 1506 Katharine had been ill
with fever and ague, unhappy at the neglect and poverty she suffered.
Ferdinand threw upon Castile the duty of paying the rest of her dowry; the
Castilians retorted that Ferdinand ought to pay it himself: and Katharine,
in the depth of despondency, in October 1506 learnt of her brother-in-law
Philip's death. Like magic Henry VII. became amiable again to his
daughter-in-law. He deplored her illness now, and cordially granted her
the change of residence from Eltham to Fulham that she had so long prayed
for in vain. The reason was soon evident; for before Juana had completed
her dreary pilgrimage through Spain to Granada with her husband's dead
body, Henry had cajoled Katharine to ask her father for the distraught
widow for his wife. Katharine must have fulfilled the task with
repulsion, though she seems to have advocated the match warmly; and
Ferdinand, though he knew, or rather said, that Juana was mad, was quite
ready to take advantage of such an opportunity for again getting into
touch with Henry. The letter in which Ferdinand gently dallied with
Henry's offer was written in Naples, after months of shifty excuses for
not sending the rest of Katharine's dowry to England,[15] and doubtless
the time he gained by postponing the answer about Juana's marriage until
he returned to Spain was of value to him; for he was determined, now that
a special providence carefully prepared had removed Philip from his path,
that once more all Spain should bear his sway whilst he lived, and then
should be divided, rather than his dear Aragon should be rendered
subordinate to other interests.
The encouraging talk of Henry's marriage with Juana, with which both
Katharine and Puebla were instructed to beguile him, was all very well in
its way, and the King of England became quite joyously sentimental at the
prospect of the new tie of relationship between the houses of Tudor and
Aragon; but, really, business was business: if that long overdue dowry for
Katharine was not sent soon, young Henry would listen to some of the many
other eligible princesses, better dowered than Katharine, who were offered
to him. With much demur Henry at length consented to wait for five months
longer for the dowry; that is to say, until Michaelmas 1507, and in the
meanwhile drove a bargain as hard as that of a Jew huckster in the
valuation of Katharine's jewels and plate, which were to be brought into
the account.[16] It is easy to see that this concession of five months'
delay was granted by Henry in the hope that his marriage with Juana would
take place. The plan was hideously wicked, and Puebla made no secret of it
in writing to Ferdinand. "No king in the world would make so good a
husband to the Queen of Castile, whether she be sane or insane. She might
recover her reason when wedded to such a husband, but even in that case
King Ferdinand would at all events be sure to retain the regency of
Castile. On the other hand, if the insanity of the Queen should prove
incurable it would perhaps be not inconvenient that she should live in
England. The English do not seem to mind her insanity much; especially
since it is asserted that her mental malady would not prevent her from
childbearing."[17] Could anything be more repulsive than this pretty
arrangement, which had been concocted by Henry and Puebla at Richmond
during a time when the former was seriously ill with quinsy and
inaccessible to any one but the Spanish ambassador?
In the meanwhile Katharine felt keenly the wretched position in which she
found herself. The plate, about which so much haggling was taking place,
was being pawned or sold by her bit by bit to provide the most necessary
things for her own use; her servants were in rags, and she herself was
contemned and neglected; forbidden even to see her betrothed husband for
months together, though living in the same palace with him. The more
confident Henry grew of his own marriage with the Archduchess Margaret, or
with Queen Juana, the less inclined he was to wed his son to Katharine. A
French princess for the Prince of Wales, and the Queen of Castile for
Henry, would indeed have served England on all sides. On one occasion, in
April 1507, Henry frankly told Katharine that he considered himself no
longer bound by her marriage treaty, since her dowry was overdue, and all
the poor Princess could do was to weep and pray her father to fulfil his
part of the compact by paying the rest of her portion, whilst she, serving
as Ferdinand's ambassador, tried to retain Henry's good graces by her
hopeful assurances about the marriage of the latter with Juana.
In all Katharine's lamentations of her own sufferings and privation, she
never forgot to bewail the misery of her servants. Whilst she herself, she
said, had been worse treated than any woman in England, her five women
servants, all she had retained, had never received a farthing since their
arrival in England six years before, and had spent everything they
possessed. Katharine at this time of trial (August 1507) was living alone
at Ewelme, whilst Henry was hunting at various seats in the midlands. At
length the King made some stay at Woodstock, where Katharine saw him. With
suspicious alacrity he consented to a further postponement of the overdue
dowry; and showed himself more eager than ever to marry Juana, no matter
how mad she might be. Katharine was quite acute enough to understand his
motives, and wrote to her father that so long as the money due of her
dowry remained unpaid the King considered himself free, so far as regarded
her marriage with the Prince of Wales. "Mine is always the worst part,"
she wrote. "The King of England prides himself upon his magnanimity in
waiting so long for the payment.... His words are kind but his deeds are
as bad as ever." She bitterly complained that Puebla himself was doing his
utmost to frustrate her marriage in the interests of the King of England;
and it is clear to see in her passionate letter to her father (4th October
1507) that she half distrusted even him, as she had been told that he was
listening to overtures from the King of France for a marriage between
Juana and a French prince. She failed in this to understand the political
position fully. If Juana had married a Frenchman it is certain that Henry
would have been only too eager to complete the marriage of his son with
Katharine. But she was evidently in fear that, unless Henry was allowed to
marry her sister, evil might befall her. Speaking of the marriage she
says: "I bait him with this ... and his words and professions have changed
for the better, although his acts remain the same.... They fancy that I
have no more in me than what outwardly appears, or that I shall not be
able to fathom his (Puebla's) design." Under stress of her circumstances
Katharine was developing rapidly. She was no longer a girl dependent upon
others. Dona Elvira had gone for good; Puebla she hated and distrusted as
much as she did Henry; and there was no one by her to whom she could look
for help. Her position was a terribly difficult one, pitted alone, as she
was, against the most unscrupulous politicians in Europe, in whose hands
she knew she was only one of the pieces in a game. Juana was still
carrying about with her the unburied corpse of her husband, and falling
into paroxysms of fury when a second marriage was suggested to her; and
yet Katharine considered it necessary to keep up the pretence to Henry
that his suit was prospering. She knew that though the Archduchess
Margaret had firmly refused to tempt providence again by a third marriage
with the King of England, the boy sovereign of Castile and Flanders, the
Archduke Charles, had been securely betrothed to golden-haired little Mary
Tudor, Henry's younger daughter; and that the close alliance thus sealed
was as dangerous to her father King Ferdinand's interests as to her own.
And yet she was either forced, or forced herself, to paint Henry, who was
still treating her vilely, in the brightest colours as a chivalrous,
virtuous gentleman, really and desperately in love with poor crazy Juana.
Katharine's letters to her sister on behalf of Henry's suit are nauseous,
in view of the circumstances as we know them; and show that the Princess
of Wales was already prepared to sacrifice every human feeling to
political expediency.
This miserable position could not continue indefinitely, for the
extension of time for the payment of the dowry was fast running out. Juana
was more intractable than ever. Katharine, in rage and despair at the
contumely with which she was treated, insisted at length that her father
should send an ambassador to England, who could speak as the mouthpiece of
a great sovereign rather than like a fawning menial of Henry as Puebla
was. The new ambassador was Gomez de Fuensalida, Knight Commander of Haro
and Membrilla, a man as haughty as Puebla had been servile, and he went
far beyond even Katharine's desires in his plain speaking to Henry and his
ministers. Ferdinand, indeed, by this time had once more gained the upper
hand in Europe, and could afford to speak his mind. Henry was no longer so
vigorous or so bold as he had been, and his desire to grasp everything
whilst risking nothing had enabled his rivals to form a great coalition
from which he was excluded--the League of Cambrai. Fuensalida offended
Henry almost as soon as he arrived, and was roughly refused permission to
enter the English Court. He could only storm, as he did, to Henry's
ministers that unless the Princess of Wales was at once sent home to Spain
with her dowry, King Ferdinand and his allies would wreak vengeance upon
England. But Henry knew that with such a hostage as Katharine in his hands
he was safe from attack, and held the Princess in defiance of it all. But
he was already a waning force. Whilst Fuensalida had no good word for the
King, he, like all other Spanish agents, turned to the rising sun and sang
persistently the praises of the Prince of Wales. His gigantic stature and
sturdy limbs, his fair skin and golden hair, his manliness, his prudence,
and his wisdom were their constant theme: and even Katharine, unhappy as
she was, with her marriage still in the balance, seems to have liked and
admired the gallant youth whom she was allowed to see so seldom.
It has become so much the fashion to speak of Katharine not only as an
unfortunate woman, but as a blameless saint in all her relations, that an
historian who regards her as a fallible and even in many respects a
blameworthy woman, who was to a large extent the cause of her own
troubles, must be content to differ from the majority of his predecessors.
We have already seen, by the earnest attempts she made to drag her
afflicted sister into marriage with a man whom she herself considered
false, cruel, and unscrupulous, that Katharine was no better than those
around her in moral principle: the passion and animosity shown in her
letters to her father about Puebla, Fuensalida, and others whom she
distrusted, show her to have been anything but a meek martyr. She was,
indeed, at this time (1508-9) a self-willed, ambitious girl of strong
passion, impatient of control, domineering and proud. Her position in
England had been a humiliating and a hateful one for years. She was the
sport of the selfish ambitions of others, which she herself was unable to
control; surrounded by people whom she disliked and suspected, lonely and
unhappy; it is not wonderful that when Henry VII. was gradually sinking to
his grave, and her marriage with his son was still in doubt, this ardent
Southern young woman in her prime should be tempted to cast to the wind
considerations of dignity and prudence for the sake of her love for a man.
She was friendless in a foreign land; and when her father was in Naples in
1506, she wrote to him praying him to send her a Spanish confessor to
solace her. Before he could do so she informed him (April 1507) that she
had obtained a very good Spanish confessor for herself. This was a young,
lusty, dissolute Franciscan monk called Diego Fernandez, who then became a
member of Katharine's household. When the new outspoken ambassador,
Fuensalida, arrived in England in the autumn of 1508, he, of course, had
frequent conference with the Princess, and could not for long shut his
eyes to the state of affairs in her establishment. He first sounded the
alarm cautiously to Ferdinand in a letter of 4th March 1509. He had hoped
against hope, he said, that the marriage of Katharine and Prince Henry
might be effected soon; and the scandal might remedy itself without his
worrying Ferdinand about it. But he must speak out now, for he has been
silent too long. It is high time, he says, that some person of sufficient
authority in the confidence of Ferdinand should be put in charge of
Katharine's household and command respect: "for at present the Princess's
house is governed by a young friar, whom her Highness has taken for her
confessor, though he is, in my opinion, and that of others, utterly
unworthy of such a position. He makes the Princess commit many errors; and
as she is so good and conscientious, this confessor makes a mortal sin of
everything that does not please him, and so causes her to commit many
faults." The ambassador continues that he dare not write all he would
because the bearer (a servant of Katharine's) is being sent by those who
wish to injure him; but he begs the King to interrogate the man who takes
the letter as to what had been going on in the Princess's house in the
last two months. "The root of all the trouble is this young friar, who is
flighty, and vain, and extremely scandalous. He has spoken to the Princess
very roughly about the King of England; and because I told the Princess
something of what I thought of this friar, and he learnt it, he has
disgraced me with her worse than if I had been a traitor.... That your
Highness may judge what sort of person he is, I will repeat exactly
without exaggeration the very words he used to me. 'I know,' he said,
'that they have been telling you evil tales of me.' 'I can assure you,
father,' I replied, 'that no one has said anything about you to me.' 'I
know,' he replied; 'the same person who told you told me himself.' 'Well,'
I said, 'any one can bear false witness, and I swear by the Holy Body
that, so far as I can recollect, nothing has been said to me about you.'
'Ah,' he said, 'there are scandal-mongers in this house who have defamed
me, and not with the lowest either, but with the highest, and that is no
disgrace to me. If it were not for contradicting them I should be gone
already.'" Proud Fuensalida tells the King that it was only with the
greatest difficulty he kept his hands off the insolent priest at this.
"His constant presence with the Princess and amongst her women is shocking
the King of England and his Court dreadfully;" and then the ambassador
hints strongly that Henry is only allowing the scandal to go on, so as to
furnish him with a good excuse for still keeping Katharine's marriage in
abeyance.
With this letter to Spain went another from Katharine to her father,
railing bitterly against the ambassador. She can no longer endure her
troubles, and a settlement of some sort must be arrived at. The King of
England treats her worse than ever since his daughter Mary was betrothed
to the young Archduke Charles, sovereign of Castile and Flanders. She had
sold everything she possessed for food and raiment; and only a few days
before she wrote, Henry had again told her that he was not bound to feed
her servants. Her own people, she says, are insolent and turn against her;
but what afflicts her most is that she is too poor to maintain fittingly
her confessor, "the best that ever woman had." It is plain to see that the
whole household was in rebellion against the confessor who had captured
Katharine's heart, and that the ambassador was on the side of the
household. The Princess and Fuensalida had quarrelled about it, and she
wished that the ambassador should be reproved. With vehement passion she
begged her father that the confessor might not be taken away from her. "I
implore your Highness to prevent him from leaving me; and to write to the
King of England that you have ordered this Father to stay with me; and beg
him for your sake to have him well treated and humoured. Tell the prelates
also that you wish him to stay here. The greatest comfort in my trouble is
the consolation he gives me. Almost in despair I send this servant to
implore you not to forget that I am still your daughter, and how much I
have suffered for your sake.... Do not let me perish like this, but write
at once deciding what is to be done. Otherwise in my present state I am
afraid I may do something that neither the King of England nor your
Highness could prevent, unless you send for me and let me pass the few
remaining days of my life in God's service."
That the Princess's household and the ambassador were shocked at the
insolent familiarity of the licentious young priest with their mistress,
and that she herself perfectly understood that the suspicions and rumours
were against her honour, is clear. On one occasion Henry VII. had asked
Katharine and his daughter Mary to go to Richmond, to meet him. When the
two princesses were dressed and ready to set out on their journey from
Hampton Court to Richmond, the confessor entered the room and told
Katharine she was not to go that day as she had been unwell. The Princess
protested that she was then quite well and able to bear the short journey.
"I tell you," replied Father Diego, "that, on pain of mortal sin, you
shall not go to-day;" and so Princess Mary set out alone, leaving
Katharine with the young priest of notorious evil life and a few inferior
servants. When the next day she was allowed to go to Richmond, accompanied
amongst others by the priest, King Henry took not the slightest notice of
her, and for the next few weeks refused to speak to her. The ambassador
even confessed to Ferdinand that, since he had witnessed what was going
on in the Princess's household, he acquitted Henry of most of the blame
for his treatment of his Spanish daughter-in-law. Whilst the Princess was
in the direst distress, her household in want of food, and she obliged to
sell her gowns to send messengers to her father, she went to the length of
pawning the plate that formed part of her dowry to "satisfy the follies of
the friar."
Deaf to all remonstrances both from King Henry and her own old servants,
Katharine obstinately had her way, and the chances of her marriage in
England grew smaller and smaller. It is not to be supposed that the
ambassador would have dared to say so much as he did to the lady's own
father if he had not taken the gravest view of Katharine's conduct and its
probable political result. But his hints to Ferdinand's ministers were
much stronger still. "The Princess," he said, "was guilty of things a
thousand times worse" than those he had mentioned; and the "parables" that
he had written to the King might be made clear by the examination of
Katharine's own servant, who carried her letters. "The devil take me," he
continues, "if I can see anything in this friar for her to be so fond of
him; for he has neither learning, nor good looks, nor breeding, nor
capacity, nor authority; but if he takes it into his head to preach a new
gospel, they have to believe it."[18] By two letters still extant, written
by Friar Diego himself, we see that the ambassador in no wise exaggerated
his coarseness and indelicacy, and it is almost incredible that
Katharine, an experienced and disillusioned woman of nearly twenty-four,
can have been ready to jeopardise everything political and personal, and
face the opposition of the world, for the sake alone of the spiritual
comfort to be derived from the ministrations of such a man. How far, if at
all, the connection was actually immoral we shall probably never know, but
the case as it stands shows Katharine to have been passionate,
self-willed, and utterly tactless. Even after her marriage with young
Henry Friar Diego retained his ascendency over her for several years, and
ruled her with a rod of iron until he was publicly convicted of
fornication, and deprived of his office as Chancellor of the Queen. We
shall have later to consider the question of his relationship with
Katharine after her marriage; but it is almost certain that the
ostentatious intimacy of the pair during the last months of Henry VII. had
reduced Katharine's chance of marriage with the Prince of Wales almost to
vanishing point, when the death of the King suddenly changed the political
position and rendered it necessary that the powerful coalition of which
Ferdinand was the head should be conciliated by England.
Henry VII. died at Richmond on the 22nd April 1509, making a better and
more generous end than could have been expected from his life. He, like
his rival Ferdinand, had been avaricious by deliberate policy; and his
avarice was largely instrumental in founding England's coming greatness,
for the overflowing coffers he left to his son lent force to the new
position assumed by England as the balancing power, courted by both the
great continental rivals. Ferdinand's ambition had o'erleaped itself, and
the possession of Flanders by the King of Castile had made England's
friendship more than ever necessary thenceforward, for France was opposed
to Spain now, not in Italy alone, but on long conterminous frontiers in
the north, south, and east as well.
Henry VIII. at the age of eighteen was well fitting to succeed his father.
All contemporary observers agree that his grace and personal beauty as a
youth were as remarkable as his quickness of intellect and his true Tudor
desire to stand well in the eyes of his people. Fully aware of the power
his father's wealth gave him politically, he was determined to share no
part of the onus for the oppression with which the wealth had been
collected; and on the day following his father's death, before himself
retiring to mourning reclusion in the Tower of London, the unpopular
financial instruments of Henry VII., Empson and Dudley and others, were
laid by the heels to sate the vengeance of the people. The Spanish match
for the young king was by far more popular in England than any other; and
the alacrity of Henry himself and his ministers to carry it into effect
without further delay, now that his father with his personal ambitions and
enmities was dead, was also indicative of his desire to begin his reign by
pleasing his subjects.
The death of Henry VII. had indeed cleared away many obstacles. Ferdinand
had profoundly distrusted him. His evident desire to obtain control of
Castile, either by his marriage with Juana or by that of his daughter Mary
with the nine-year-old Archduke Charles, had finally hardened Ferdinand's
heart against him, whilst Henry's fear and suspicion of Ferdinand had, as
we have seen, effectually stood in the way of the completion of
Katharine's marriage. With young Henry as king affairs stood differently.
Even before his father's death Ferdinand had taken pains to assure him of
his love, and had treated him as a sovereign over the dying old king's
head. Before the breath was out of Henry VII., Ferdinand's letters were
speeding to London to make all things smooth. There would be no opposition
now to Ferdinand's ratification of his Flemish grandson's marriage with
Henry's sister Mary. The clever old Aragonese knew there was still plenty
of time to stop that later; and certainly young Henry could not interfere
in Castile, as his father might have done, on the strength of Mary Tudor's
betrothal. So all went merry as a marriage bell. Ferdinand, for once in
his life, was liberal with his money. He implored his daughter to make no
unpleasantness or complaint, and to raise no question that might obstruct
her marriage. The ambassador, Fuensalida, was warned that if the bickering
between himself and the Princess, or between the confessor and the
household, was allowed to interfere with the match, disgrace and ruin
should be his lot, and Katharine was admonished that she must be civil to
Fuensalida, and to the Italian banker who was to pay the balance of her
dowry. The King of Aragon need have had no anxiety. Young Henry and his
councillors were as eager for the popular marriage as he was, and dreaded
the idea of disgorging the 100,000 crowns dowry already paid and the
English settlements upon Katharine. On the 6th May, accordingly, three
days before the body of Henry VII. was borne in gloomy pomp to its last
resting-place at Westminster, Katharine wrote to her delighted father that
her marriage with Henry was finally settled.