Bastard Prince Read online

  In fact, negotiations for his marriage now came to a grinding halt. Even though Charles V’s proposal for one of the daughters of the Queen of Denmark was still on the table, it now looked as if the young duke would not be marrying after all. On 18 May, Mendoza sourly reported that Wolsey seemed to have lost all interest in the marriage of ‘the bastard of England’. The ambassador believed this had all been a ruse to free the dauphin to marry Mary and it is hard to see any other explanation. A union with either of the Danish princesses would have been a more than respectable match for the young duke. These were the nieces of an emperor and the daughters of a king and unlike Richmond they were legitimate. If a grand European alliance was a consideration in Richmond’s elevation in 1525, this was a lost opportunity. It can only be justified if the purpose of these negotiations was not so much to find Richmond a wife, but to secure the best marriage for his half-sister.

  Any idea that Wolsey hoped to see Princess Mary safely married and dispatched to France in order to clear the way for his godson to ascend the throne in England is at odds with his terms for the French match.11 Also, any such policy would have endangered the French alliance which Wolsey had taken such pains to forge. The French might accept the possibility that Henry could still have a legitimate prince as a calculated risk. They are not likely to have viewed the accession of his illegitimate son with the same equanimity. Nor would it explain why the Imperial match was simply brushed aside. Whatever Richmond’s destiny, such a marriage would have enhanced his status. If he had any hopes of the throne this union would have gone a long way to ensure Charles V’s natural concerns for his cousin’s inheritance were replaced with healthy self-interest in the fortunes of his niece, especially if his gain was at the expense of the French.

  Certainly, Charles V was not as disinterested as he had pretended. As England and France moved towards the Treaty of Amiens, he viewed the prospect of their closer alliance with concern. Suddenly, on 17 July, the English ambassador in Spain wrote that the longed-for daughter of Portugal might be bestowed on the Duke of Richmond after all. It was proposed that Richmond might have the eldest daughter, with a dowry of 400,000 ducats and, since there was a danger the Duchy of Milan might fall into the hands of Francis I, it might be better to give that to the duke as well.12

  The emperor had gained possession of the Duchy of Milan through the defeat and surrender of Sforza, the present duke. Although he was preoccupied with battles with the Turks, Charles V was loath to give up the land. France, fearing encirclement, was equally reluctant to see it remain in Hapsburg hands. To be fair, the possible benefits of this plan were not simply to the advantage of the English. It had all the makings of a grand European alliance with Charles V, Henry VIII and Francis I all bound together in a single accord that ‘should be indissoluble’. This was exactly what Wolsey had hoped for. A marriage between Francis and Eleanor might bind France and Spain, but the union of Richmond with Mary of Portugal would allow Mary to marry the dauphin, and all of this would ensure that England’s future interests were central to the politics of Europe.

  However, it seemed too good to be true and so it proved. On 21 July Lee might have believed that, with careful handling, it could come to pass. Wolsey remained realistic, informing Henry VIII of the progress of the negotiations on 31 July when he wrote of:

  the blind and doubtful overture made by Mons Bouclans [John Almain] for the alliance of the duke of Richmond to the daughter of Portugal, with the gift of the Duchy of Milan in contemplation of the same alliance; meaning thereby to interrupt and let [leave off] the conjunction of your highness with the French king.

  Unfortunately for Wolsey, Henry was keen to see his son married to a Hapsburg princess, with his own independent kingdom, especially if it came at no cost to himself. Wolsey persevered ‘by all ways and means’ to ascertain Charles V’s good faith and what conditions might apply to this ‘gift’. On 5 September he broke the bad news to the king. The Emperor ‘mindeth nothing on earth less’ than to bestow the Duchy of Milan on Richmond, it was simply a ploy to prevent the English from coming to terms with the French. Henry was not convinced. On 8 September the cardinal was still instructing the English ambassadors to pursue the possibility, although since Wolsey had no wish to upset the primary goal of the French negotiations, they had to be careful ‘setting forth in such wise and matter as the French ambassador take no jealously or suspicion thereby’.

  Wolsey was convinced that once Charles V knew the treaty between England and France was fully concluded, the proposal would be discreetly dropped. For the Imperials it was a defensive, rather than a proactive policy. The prize of the Duchy of Milan and the hand of the sought-after infanta would only be delivered at the cost of fracturing the French alliance. Accordingly, the next time the English ambassadors put forward Richmond’s name they were politely rebuffed on the grounds that the duchy was too small for him. In the end Sforza was restored to Milan in 1529 once he had been safely married to Christina, the second daughter of the Queen of Denmark, who had been offered as a possible bride for Richmond in October 1527.

  The Imperial delegation at the court of Henry VIII was obviously feeling the affects of Wolsey’s preference for a French alliance. When Margaret of Savoy, Regent of the Netherlands, enquired about sending over an embassy to discuss friendship, commerce and a marriage between the Duke of Richmond and one of the daughters of the Queen of Denmark, she was advised that she might be wasting her time. The ambassador thought it was probably best if he first discovered whether Wolsey would actually deign to entertain the proposals. It was entirely possible that her envoys would have had a wasted journey, as the cardinal was so busy with his French friends it might be some time before the Imperial ambassador could even arrange an interview with the minister.

  In fact, Wolsey had a rather more important marriage to broker – a new wife for his king. In 1527 rumours began to circulate that Henry was thinking of putting Katherine aside. No one can have been entirely surprised. While Henry was still young enough to produce a legitimate son, it was political suicide to remain married to a queen who was so obviously past the age of child bearing. Of course, the idea was broached rather more diplomatically. At first it was claimed that Henry’s concerns over the validity of his marriage had been sparked when doubts were raised by the French about Mary’s legitimacy during negotiations for her marriage to the duc d’Orléans. In 1528 this was amended to the idea that the English ambassadors in France had stirred up the doubts. As matters progressed even this account was discreetly dropped. In truth the impetus came from the king.

  Henry now turned his full attention to a matter which (so he claimed) had been concerning him for some time. Against all good sense he latched on to the prohibition in the Old Testament book of Leviticus (20:21), that ‘if a man shall take his brother’s wife, it is an unclean thing . . . and they shall be childless’. However, a contrary text in the book of Deuteronomy (25:5–7) positively encouraged a man to take on his brother’s widow, but Henry persuaded himself that this was Judaic custom rather than God’s law. Even though Katherine and Henry had a perfectly healthy daughter, the king was obligingly advised that the original Hebrew had said they would be without sons. Henry’s desire for an annulment was not in itself unusual. When marriage was as much a business merger as a domestic arrangement, sometimes the partnership had to be dissolved. Unfortunately, Henry’s belief in Leviticus would set him on a collision course with the pope. The King of England believed his marriage was so sinful that the papacy had no authority to allow it. However, the pope would not accept an argument that diminished the power of his office.

  Perhaps hoping to ensure a quick and speedy resolution, Henry did not begin by seeking to repudiate Katherine. Contrary to modern opinion, bigamy was generally regarded as less heinous than divorce, even when the separation was disguised as an annulment, due to some hitherto unknown impediment. Erasmus agreed, ‘far be it from me to mix in the affairs of Jupiter and Juno’ he wrote, ‘but I should p
refer that he should take two Junos than put away one’. Henry’s initial applications to Clement VII concerned permission not to put away Katherine, but to take another wife. In the difficult years to come, as Henry was taken to task by Katherine for not spending enough time with her, only to be rebuked by his mistress for paying too much heed to the queen, he must have felt rather like a man with two wives. As a domestic arrangement, it was clearly unworkable. As a political solution, the issue of a bigamous marriage might well invite more problems than it solved.

  By the autumn of 1527 moves were afoot for the king’s ‘great matter’. The timing could not have been worse. Henry had good reason to hope for a favourable hearing from the pope. Monarchs even more than ordinary men needed sons to succeed them; the peace of Christendom could be said to depend on it.13 However, Charles V’s sack of Rome in 1527 meant that Pope Clement VII was virtually his prisoner. The emperor was unlikely to co-operate in any approaches from the English king to put aside his aunt, one of many factors which would make Henry’s case rather more complicated than it might have been.

  If Richmond realised the significance of Richard Croke’s departure, to help provide evidence to support Henry’s case that his marriage was unlawful, there seemed no immediate cause for concern. Henry could easily provide for a Prince of Wales and a Duke of York, without affecting Richmond. Nor did it automatically mean Mary’s position would change. There were ways and means for Henry to put aside his wife without prejudicing his daughter’s rights. If Katherine could be persuaded to retire into a nunnery, it could be argued that Henry was free to marry again, without any need to address the legitimacy, or otherwise, of their daughter. Even if their marriage was annulled on some technicality, it could be claimed that her parents, who had been accepted as man and wife in the eyes of the world for the past two decades, had been unaware of any impediment at the time of her birth. Such issue, born in good faith, was not automatically bastardised, even if their parents’ union was subsequently discovered to be unlawful.

  Since Henry so desperately needed legitimate issue, the idea that he would deliberately set out to debase any child of his, when there was a viable alternative, seems absurd. For the moment at least, the marriage negotiations of 1527 indicate that Mary was still the heir apparent. Yet the failure to secure her marriage to the dauphin perhaps strengthened Henry’s resolve that his daughter was not the best means to secure England’s future. His concern for his dynasty is demonstrated in his abrupt rejection of a French alliance. Even as Wolsey was in France to enquire about a marriage between the king and Renée of Anjou, Henry spoke to the Hungarian envoy, who had just rejected Renée as a suitable bride for his master on the grounds that she might not ‘bring forth fruit as it apperith by the linacion of her body’ due to a hereditary deformity. The king eventually found his own replacement rather closer to home, in the shape of Anne Boleyn.

  The question has often been asked whether Henry pursued Anne as a man who believed he would soon be free to marry or whether it was her refusal to yield that spurred him on. The answer must be both. To be fair to Henry, he had always believed, albeit with increasingly impressive optimism, that God would eventually grant him a legitimate male heir. Once it was clear that Katherine would bear no more children, the shrewd political move would have been to take immediate action to put her aside and try again. Instead Henry seems to have concentrated on finding a suitable marriage for his daughter. If Mary had been betrothed to Francis I or the dauphin, Henry might have been satisfied, or maybe not. His attraction to Anne Boleyn was a significant and unpredictable factor that she was well placed to exploit.

  When Henry’s pursuit of Anne became apparent in the spring of 1526, there was no reason to suspect that this would be anything more than a conventional affair. Far from being a ready alternative to Katherine, very little about Anne Boleyn suggested that she would be a suitable queen. The daughter of a mere knight, Sir Thomas Boleyn of Blickling in Norfolk, being the niece of the Duke of Norfolk, on her mother’s side, was scant compensation. Anne was no European princess whose marriage would secure a diplomatic alliance or a substantial dowry.

  Unlike Henry VII’s union with Elizabeth of York, which had been designed to promote accord, it was all too possible that this pairing would encourage discord. Few of the nobility would enjoy seeing the House of Howard accrue further power and influence, especially since many saw Anne as their social inferior. At twenty-six Anne was also much older than most Tudor women when they first married, significantly reducing her time in which to produce the desired heir. Also, her volatile temperament made it clear that she was unlikely to conform to the ideal picture of the pious and devoted consort. Devoted Anne Boleyn might well be, but it was to be strictly on her own terms.

  At one point in the summer of 1527 Henry was content to offer her the role of ‘my only mistress, rejecting from thought and affection all others save yourself’, which Eric Ives has translated as something akin to the role of ‘maîtresse en titre’ employed at the French court. Somewhat at odds with her reputation as a wanton, Anne reportedly responded that her virginity belonged to her husband. If Anne was bidding for the higher prize of becoming Henry’s queen, then she was also adhering to the same moral stance for which Jane Seymour was so admired, and it is perhaps rather unfair that she should be blamed for that. At her age it was a risky policy. While she held Henry’s interest there was no possibility of other suitors. Yet this path had no guarantee of success. Her fears that Henry might return to Katherine and ‘my youth and time spent to no purpose at all’ betrayed more than a simple desire to goad Henry into action. Fortunately for Anne, Henry’s commitment to Leviticus was at least equal to his passion for her.

  For the moment the gathering storm clouds that would become the English Reformation had no impact on Richmond. Instead, the spring and summer of 1528 saw a drama of another sort. The north of England did not escape the sweating sickness, which swept across the land. Richmond was, for the moment, in good health. But the death of six local people, which his council described with lurid detail, and the dreadful news ‘that many young children be sick of the pox near thereabouts’ was not reassuring. As a precaution, in May Richmond was taken from Pontefract Castle to Ledstone, some three miles away. Here he waited out the pestilence with a train of just five attendants, at a house of the Prior of St John’s, within his manor of Pontefract. The emergency also highlighted another shortfall in Richmond’s apparently illustrious household. The list of officers drawn up in 1525 had included Dr William Butts, one of the king’s physicians, as resident doctor. Yet it seems that position had never been filled.

  In July 1525 the duke’s council had written to remind Wolsey ‘to send a physician unto my lord’s grace for the preservation of his person’. Now the council worriedly pointed out how dangerous it was for Richmond to be without a doctor ‘in this time of such strange infirmities’. Thankfully, by October the danger was past. Magnus wrote to Wolsey to reassure him that Richmond and his small company had remained perfectly healthy throughout the crisis. To everyone’s undoubted relief he was now safely back in his own house surrounded by all his servants. Richmond himself wrote to thank his father for his concern.

  There is nothing to suggest that Henry’s focus on his matrimonial affairs caused any diminishment of his affection for his only son. While Richmond was at Sheriff Hutton, Henry maintained regular contact with him by letters and messengers, which passed to and fro. Richmond thanked his father for his ‘most honourable letters’ or gifts of ‘goodly apparel’ sent from court. One of the ‘tokens’ sent by the king, via Thomas Magnus, was a gold unicorn horn set with pearls and turquoise. Another was a collar of gold ‘for my Lord’s neck’ set with seven white enamel roses. Now the king responded to the present emergency by forwarding a selection of medical remedies. Richmond assured his father that these ‘preservatives’ had made all the difference, ensuring his continuing good health.

  The duke also continued to be a focus of patrona
ge and power for the local nobility. In the autumn of 1528 William, Lord Dacre called to pay his respects on his way south to the king. The Earl of Northumberland went one better and invited Richmond to visit with him at his house at Topcliffe near Thirsk. No doubt with some trepidation, Richmond’s council agreed to a single night’s stay for the nine-year-old boy. They need not have worried. Richmond rose to the occasion and ‘did use himself, not like a child of his tender age, but more like a man in all his behaviours’. About this time the Earl of Westmorland and his wife, perhaps as a means of storing up favour for the future, also brought their son and heir, Lord Neville, to live in Richmond’s household.

  Unlike Mary, who was recalled from Ludlow in the Marches of Wales in the summer of 1528, Richmond was allowed to remain at Sheriff Hutton. Nor was this a simple case of out of sight, out of mind, since it is clear the whole enterprise was costing far more than had originally been planned.

  When he was first sent to Yorkshire it was envisaged that the income from Richmond’s lands and offices would pay for the duke and his household. It was estimated that his ordinary expenditure would be just over £3,000, which was well within Richmond’s anticipated revenues of £4,000. Yet while the first year’s accounts submitted by George Lawson, for the period 12 June 1525 until 31 July 1526, appear healthy with a clear balance of £484, in fact the year’s expenses could not have been met without the loan of £500 from the Abbot of St Mary’s in York. In fact, they were fortunate that the revenues were higher than expected. In the first six months they had already managed to spend £2,650, which made them approximately £1,150 over budget.