A BRUSH WITH TUDOR ROYALTY
SIX WIVES: FOUR MOTHERS
By Vivienne Brereton
Motherhood
was very much on the minds of the six wives of Henry VIII. An awful lot of the
time, I would imagine. Every childless month must have brought fresh disappointment,
and with it, a feeling of failure. As every ‘barren’ year passed, nagging
uncertainty and, in some cases, downright despair must have set in. This was
certainly true for the later wives. The first wife, Katherine, a princess of
Spain, married to Henry for more than twenty years, remained hopeful for at
least ten years that she would finally be able to give him a son and heir but
this ebbed away to nothing. Four of them would manage motherhood (Catherine
Parr not with the King’s child, but by the man she loved, Thomas Seymour, whom
she was initially forced to give up to become Queen). Two of the four wives died
as a result of poor hygiene during childbirth: Jane Seymour and Catherine Parr.
Two of the six wives died childless: Anne of Cleves, because she was reduced
from the status of wife to that of beloved sister. And Catherine Howard because
her young life was snatched from her (for a foolhardy affair with her cousin)
and with it, the chance of motherhood. In the end, after multiple pregnancies,
multiple still births, miscarriages and infant deaths, all Henry’s six queens
managed to provide him with were two girls followed by the much anticipated
male heir. Amongst all the disappointment and despair, none of them managed a
second child. Fatherhood (if not the obsession with it) ended for the unfortunate
Henry with wife number three. According to Alison Weir, Henry fathered fifteen
children, eight of whom were sons, with seven of the fifteen surviving until
adulthood. She attributes the lost eight to poor understanding of pregnancy and
childbirth back in the sixteenth century.
* * *
The
inspiration for this guest post was a visit I made several years ago with my
wonderful sister-in-law, Steph, to the British Library in London where a new
exhibition of the Tudors was about to begin. I was due to fly back to France
the next day so this was a very exciting finish to my trip. On the way, we must
have ‘popped into’ every single charity shop to satisfy Steph’s passion. She
was thrilled because Lady Charlotte What’s-Her-Name of Hampstead had been in
the last shop the day before and graciously donated half her wardrobe. By the
time we arrived at the British Library, of which I was a member, Steph was positively
staggering under the weight of this unexpected treasure trove.
Unfortunately,
I wasn’t doing so well. It turned out we’d arrived for the Press Preview, not
the exhibition which began the next day. ‘PRESS
ONLY’, it clearly stated on the poster. Feeling very disappointed, if I’d
been alone I know I would have turned for the door. But I was forgetting I was
with Steph. Leaving Lady Charlotte’s precious stash with me, she boldly marched
up to the desk, explaining that I was an accredited journalist from Nice,
France, and asking if it would be possible for me to go in for a “quick peek”. Acknowledging my suddenly
acquired credentials with what I hoped was a modest grin, I hurriedly took the
press pass from the lady at the desk. “Are
you sure you’ll be okay?” I murmured to Steph, feeling both grateful and
guilty. “I’ll be absolutely fine,”
she answered breezily, shaking out a long red ball gown and a matching silk
wrap formerly owned by the generous Lady Charlotte. “I’ll go for a coffee and take a look at all these. You go on in.”
* * *
I
needed no second telling and shot up the corridor to the entrance. Imagine my
delight when I got in and the first person I saw was a Very Eminent Tudor
Historian (several of) whose scholarly books took pride of place on my bookshelves.
Elizabeth 1 or Henry VIII themselves might as well have been standing there as
far as I was concerned. It was my very own brush with Tudor royalty. Sidling up
to the little group of three: the VETH and two clearly awestruck Young
Historians, I pretended to be engrossed by a nearby portrait of Katherine of
Aragon, my ears closed to anything else, especially their hushed private conversation.
“Do you think her claims of virginity were legitimate?” one of the YHs was asking in a respectful voice.
I couldn’t believe my luck. ‘Was Katherine still a virgin after her
marriage to Prince Arthur?’ must be the most asked question in Tudor history.
Second only to ‘Did Anne Boleyn really commit adultery?’ and ‘Did Elizabeth die a virgin?’ Lots of interest in the sex lives of
these Tudor ladies! Anyway, here I was, standing within touching distance of
the very upper reaches of modern Tudor scholarship, breathlessly waiting for
the off-record answer from the VETH. Not missing a beat, and with no
hesitation, came back the decidedly booming answer. “ABSOLUTELY no doubt whatsoever!” (Only a VETH could be quite so
dogmatic and get away with it, I thought). “She
never altered her claim. Not even on her deathbed. And no one in those times
would lie on their deathbed, risking their immortal souls.” The two YHs
were vigorously nodding their heads in unison like those dogs dangling above
the dashboard in a car. Hearing this and the VETH’s explanation, I thought
about it for a few moments, glancing over at Katherine on the wall. She definitely wasn’t about to give anything
away as she stared stonily ahead. Hmm. I wasn’t so convinced. I really wanted
to chip in with: “But, on the other hand, she was a mother leaving her precious child behind to a motherless
future. She knew an admission of guilt would invalidate her marriage, damn her
child for eternity, and rob her of
her rightful throne. Isn’t it possible she was willing to risk her immortal
soul for that?”
 |
| Henry and Anne |
Unfortunately,
I didn’t dare ask my question in case I got packed off to the Tower for impersonating
a journalist. What a missed opportunity, though.
* * *
I haven’t changed my opinion about Katherine’s
predicament. Amy Licence, in her excellent book, ‘In bed with the Tudors’, discusses
Katherine’s claims of virginity: “The
question of what the two teenagers did in bed over the course of the next four
and a half months would irrevocably determine the course of British history and
the development of the Church of England.” The matter of Katherine’s
virginity has been picked over at great length, both then and now. For me, it
is a somewhat grey area where a young girl and boy of fifteen were put naked into
a bed on the understanding that they would do what was expected of them.
Katherine claimed that they only shared a bed for seven nights at most…which doesn’t
really settle the argument either way. What they actually did, nobody will ever
know but they were both highly intelligent and it seems unlikely that they
didn’t indulge in at least some kind of attempt at intercourse. Perhaps a
fumbling affair that Katherine could later dismiss as non-existent. Who can
blame her? The first time, she stood to gain a crown. The second time, in the
late 1520s until her death in 1536, she was doing it out of a mother’s love.
There are some poignant moments for the three
mothers amongst Henry’s wives. Katherine and her daughter, Mary, ripped apart
for the final years of Katherine’s life for not agreeing to Henry’s wishes.
Anne at an upstairs window of Greenwich Palace in April, 1536, shortly before
her arrest (in my view, merely for flirting with Henry’s friends to make him
jealous) and trial for adultery. It was a scene witnessed by many: Anne
cradling her small daughter, pleading with Henry. He was clearly angry with her
and we can only imagine his cruel words, knowing he had Jane Seymour waiting in
the wings. What tragic irony that Anne faced the same unbearable dilemma as
Katherine before her death: seeing her daughter reduced to the status of a
bastard. Henry’s third queen fared no better than numbers One and Two; how must
she have felt when she lay dying in October, 1537, leaving behind a son and
heir, knowing this one achievement had cost her everything. In the end, none of
Henry’s six wives came out a winner, and for the three of them having a child
with the King it led to...death from an extremely rare cancer of the heart;
fear, misery and finally death in the Tower of London; premature death after
childbirth.
* * *
On
that apologetically sombre note, I’d like to thank you, Mary Anne, for inviting
me on today. I’d also like to finish by including a short extract from my
novel: ‘The House of the Red Duke’. In it, little Valentine de Fleury is
listening to her grandmother discussing the royal succession in France with the
local Abbot, as well as the vagaries of childbirth. Louis XI, Charles VIII, and
Louis XII are the three Valois kings mentioned here, in order of succession. Anne
of Brittany was wife to both Charles VIII and Louis XII.
“‘After
all,’ said Abbot Anthoine, ‘a possible future king doesn’t marry a woman. He
marries a country.’
‘I
thought I would die of love. Louis thought he would too. He told me I was the
only thing that prevented him from flinging himself off the castle battlements
at Blois. Anything to avoid returning to a woman he found so repulsive.’
Abbot
Anthoine shook his head. ‘Crookbacked Jeanne with her unfortunate face. Another
fine young man forced to marry a girl who was…to be put it kindly… deformed. No
wonder he wanted you so badly.’
Valentine’s
grandmère gave him a playful punch on the arm. ‘Are you trying to flatter me? I
don’t think Louis ever forgave “The Spider King” for forcing his daughter on
him, taking malicious glee in the fact that Jeanne would never be able to bear
him children.’
‘It
was a clever way to end the bloodline of a rival for the throne, you have to
admit. Old King Louis certainly deserved his nickname. Like a spider, he lured
his enemies into his web and entangled them, with no chance of escape.’
‘Fortunately,
he didn’t succeed in destroying my
Louis.’
‘Nor
did his son manage it either.’
‘I
always thought Charles and his sister, Jeanne, resembled a pair of frogs. Don’t
you remember how Louis and I used to call Charles “The Frog King”?’ She tutted.
‘My poor Louis. He went to great lengths to divorce Jeanne in order to marry
Anne of Brittany but has had no more success in getting a boy on her than
Charles did.’
‘We
are fortunate to understand the workings of childbearing so much better than we
did before. Now we understand that the delivery of a healthy boy, as you might
expect, is the product of faith and reason.’
Grandmère Symonne laughed. ‘Whereas the
delivery of a girl comes from a defect in the workings of nature.’
‘Or
the result of inclement conditions at the time of conception such as a moist
south wind. The Queen must pray for a healthy boy next time.’
‘In
the meantime, let you and I pray that God sees fit to keep both Louis and my
Charles safe in Italy.’
‘Amen.’”
A Phoenix Rising
(The House of the Red Duke, #1)
By Vivienne Brereton
“If I have anything to do with it, we Howards will live forever.”
Thomas Howard
Charismatic head of one of the most powerful Houses in Tudor England. An indomitable old man approaching eighty: soldier, courtier, politician, a ‘phoenix’ rising from the ashes. After a calamitous period of disgrace, the Howards, renowned for their good looks and charm, are once more riding high at the court of Henry VIII.
Set against the backdrop of the extraordinary 1520 ‘Field of Cloth of Gold’, it is a tale of ambition, love, and intrigue, with Thomas at the centre of this intricate tapestry
Will Thomas’s bold vow be fulfilled? Danger stalks the corridors of the royal courts of Europe. Uneasy lies the head beneath a crown. Every other ruler – a fickle bedfellow…or sworn enemy.
The action takes place in England, Scotland, and France. On either side of the Narrow Sea, four young lives are interwoven, partly unaware of each other, and certainly oblivious to what Dame Fortune has in store for them.
“Nicolas de La Barre laid his lute to one side, hardly bothering to stifle a yawn of boredom. Nevertheless, he couldn’t escape the fact he’d agreed to take on a new wife….”
Explosive family secrets are concealed behind the ancient walls of castles in three lands. But… “There are no secrets that time does not reveal.”
The Coffee Pot Book Club
★★★★★
Highly Recommended
Read the full review HERE!
Pick up your copy of
A Phoenix Rising
Vivienne Brereton
Born near historic Winchester in the UK, Vivienne Brereton has been passionate about the Tudors for as long as she can remember. This led to a degree in medieval history at university where she met her future husband. Three sons later and six countries she called home, she finally felt ready to write a novel.
Words have always played an important part in Vivienne’s life whether it’s been writing, editing, teaching English to foreigners, or just picking up a good book. In preparation for her novel, she read intensively on the skills needed to write well and did an enormous amount of research which she greatly enjoyed. Having three sons was helpful when she came to write about the characters, Tristan and Nicolas. All those squabbles she had to deal with came in very handy. She also used her husband and sons as guinea pigs for her Tudor cookery attempts with varying degrees of success (abuse).
Seeing ‘A Phoenix Rising’ in print for the first time was a moment of great joy for her and she hopes you enjoy reading it as much as she enjoyed writing it.
Connect with Vivienne:
Nicely done, Vivienne! Enjoyed this entertaining romp in Tudor times!
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