CHAPTER ONE – KATHERINE
On 17th May 1527, Cardinal Wolsey opened a secret court to inquire into the validity of Henry and Katherine’s marriage. Even though Henry had already made up his mind about wanting a divorce, he had to pay lip service to the formalities and listen as Richard Wolman, the promoter of the case, accused him of living in sin with his brother’s wife. Wolman’s argument was ‘that it was notorious prince Arthur had married Katherine, cohabited with her, and carnally known her.’ Henry’s proctor, Dr. John Bell, defended the marriage. But no one was under any illusions as to what was really going on; at the court’s first meeting, Henry sat at Wolsey’s right hand. Judgment in favour of a divorce should have been merely a formality. However, after a few sessions, Wolsey broke up the secret court, being unable to deal with the legal complications of the case. Katherine did not attend the secret court. In fact, she hadn’t even been told about it.
George Bernard, in The King’s Reformation, asks a rather odd question; ‘was Katherine of Aragon the first to oppose Henry VIII?’ Bernard then goes on to ask more questions and never actually answers this first one, but it seems curious, given what historians know about the divorce, that this question needs to be asked at all. Of course, though, Katherine did have a choice when she was finally told about Henry’s plans. She could oppose them or acquiesce. Given how much of the historiography of the divorce focuses on Henry, it is somewhat pointed that it was this choice of Katherine’s that determined so much. As Antonia Fraser notes, the relationship of the divorce to the Henrician Reformation has ‘tended to mask the fact that such a divorce might well have gone through comparatively painlessly if certain circumstances had been different.’ One of these circumstances must be Katherine’s decision to oppose Henry’s wishes. If she had agreed with him, or simply just accepted he would win, a compliant Pope would have been likely to grant the separation. Kings, after all, had sought and been given divorces on other occasions throughout history. Even allowing for the legal and theological difficulties of Henry’s case, then, it was Katherine’s opposition which made his divorce different from all those that had gone before. It was her resistance that turned the issue from a process to a battle.
Why then is there no systematic study of her case similar to Geoffrey de Parmiter’s The King’s Great Matter or Henry Kelly’s The Matrimonial Trials of Henry VIII? The closest there is to a survey of Katherine’s side is John Paul’s Catherine of Aragon and her Friends, which takes in all ‘friends’ from Katherine’s arrival in England onwards, but whose depth is limited. Nowhere, in fact, is Katherine’s defence given the attention it truly deserves. What exists in the historiography is a muddle of occasional paragraphs in books about Henry, chapters in ‘six wives’ accounts, and what are best termed as ‘sympathy books’, usually biographies of Katherine or her daughter which, although evocative, lack rigid historical enquiry.
When Katherine was eventually told about Henry’s plans for divorce, she began to lay out her main points of argument. One of these was, as Wolsey said to Henry, ‘that your brother did never know her carnally.’ Katherine’s strategy was that if she could prove she was a virgin when she had married Henry, there would be no problem with their marriage, for she understood that the verse in Leviticus only applied if the first union had been consummated. This was a clear, principled stand from which Katherine would never waver until her death in 1536, and which ignored the technicalities about dispensations and papal power which Henry’s team came to rely on. Historians have been critical of Katherine concentrating on the non-consummation argument. Francesca Claremount argued that Katherine’s ‘inability to see complexities came into play here. She could only see that she had not been Arthur’s wife and therefore she was Henry’s, and what was the use of talking about it?’ Mary M. Luke also took this line, writing that Katherine ‘continually oversimplified a complicated and emotionally involved situation, one she never truly comprehended.’
Was Katherine right to use non-consummation as her primary line of defence? She came to have a legal team in Rome who battled against Henry’s over the finer details, so perhaps she felt that side of things was best left to them. Or maybe she thought it unseemly for a woman to be involved in such legal process, especially one who presented herself throughout the divorce years as Henry’s ‘true’ wife. If she was his true wife, how could she wade into arguments about the potential validity of their marriage? What appears most likely, however, is that Katherine never doubted her marriage to Henry was lawful and, if questions had been raised because of Leviticus, the best course was to prove Leviticus did not apply to this case. To suggest Katherine did not grasp the complexity of such an emotional situation is to misunderstand her. To insist upon her virginity and the validity of her marriage was to defend her own honour, for if she had not been Henry’s wife all these years, then she had been his mistress, ‘with all that degradation meant to a woman of Katherine’s birth, character and type.’ This was just as much an emotional response as any of Henry’s, only Katherine had a different way of showing it.
Katherine’s insistence on her virginity has lead to speculation amongst historians as to whether she was telling the truth, particularly since she made a declaration of her virginity to Cardinal Campeggio, who had come to sit in judgement at the Legatine trial. She went to Campeggio for confession and asserted that the marriage with Arthur was never consummated, and also saw Campeggio again closer to the trial. Campeggio reported of this second visit that Katherine regarded ‘as the great solace of her mind and the firm foundation of her righteousness, that from the embraces of her first husband she entered this marriage as a virgin and an immaculate woman.’ Katherine gave Campeggio permission to tell others what she had said in confession, so it is clear she had always intended her declaration to become public. Katherine’s tactic seems to have been not only to please her conscience, but also to try and force Henry into making his own statement about the issue at the trial or sooner. At the time, Henry was arguing that he wanted the marriage investigated to put his mind at rest, and that Katherine was an ideal wife. If he denied her virginity, he was accusing his ideal wife of lying in confession. If he admitted her virginity, he destroyed most of his objections to the original papal dispensation. That Katherine’s declaration backed Henry into a corner is shown by the simple fact that he said nothing at all. Yet this was in itself a tacit admission that she was right, something not noted at the time. Katherine, then, did not harm her defence by making her statement to Campeggio, but the issue of virginity did lead to rather unseemly scenes in the Legatine trial where, unwilling to talk about it himself, Henry lined up several middle aged nobles to say how they had been capable of consummating their marriages at the same age as Arthur. It had become Katherine’s word against the King’s, and there were noticeably few who went against the King.
During the divorce years, Katherine was concerned not only with remaining Henry’s wife, but also with maintaining the status of her daughter, Mary, as rightful heir to the throne. David Loades argues that ‘Katherine’s defence of her marriage was a personal statement of her own integrity and faith’ and, as such, it was ‘innocent of political content’, leading Loades to conclude that it was not concern for Mary’s rights which motivated Katherine to oppose Henry. According to Loades’ interpretation, a defence of Mary’s rights would have involved some sort of conspiracy by Katherine to depose Henry and put Mary on the throne. However, Katherine never disputed Henry’s title, and what she really wanted to protect was Mary’s right to inherit the throne after Henry died, whenever that would be. The two issues of Katherine’s marriage and Mary’s legitimacy were implicitly connected for, as Lucy Wooding states, ‘to admit Henry’s case was to declare her own beloved daughter, groomed for the throne, a bastard.’ Katherine had tried to give Mary the rounded education needed for eventual queenship, so she could follow the example of Katherine’s mother Isabella, who had ruled Castile. This, and the simple fact that she loved her daughter, meant Katherine continuously sought recognition of Mary’s place as heir alongside the restitution of her own case. For example, in February 1533, Katherine was insisting her case be resolved ‘for the discharge of her conscience and the assurance of the princess’ succession.’
Unfortunately for Katherine, Henry was perfectly aware of her feelings about Mary, and was prepared to use them as a weapon against her. Frequently this was in the form of threats in order to break Katherine’s resistance. In November 1528, Katherine was told that, if she persisted in defending her case, Henry ‘will not suffer the princess to come into her company’ , and this type of threat was still being used in July 1533, when Katherine was warned that non-compliance would mean Henry withdrawing ‘affection from his daughter.’ This certainly must have distressed Katherine, but at no time did she give up her opposition because of these warnings. More subtly, Henry also tried to use Katherine’s affection for Mary to trick her. In May 1531, Mary was ill and Katherine suggested to Henry that they visit her. Henry said she could go, and then stay there. Katherine saw through this ploy; if she went to Mary, Henry could accuse her of abandoning him. Her own strategy at this time was clear; ‘she would not leave him for her daughter nor anyone else.’ Not only was Katherine trying to protect her daughter, she had to do so in a way which would not compromise her own argument that she was Henry’s true, loyal wife. That she managed to do so is remarkable.
When she first learned of the divorce, part of Katherine’s plan was to inform her nephew, Emperor Charles V, as soon as possible so he could provide her with assistance. She did this by sending her servant Francesco Felipez, using an elaborate double-cross with Henry in which she refused to allow Felipez leave to go. Henry suspected ‘that the Queen is the only cause of the man’s going into Spain’ and wanted Felipez detained in France, but Felipez managed to get through and deliver his message to Charles V. This action of Katherine’s had possibly the greatest impact on Henry’s side of any of her decisions during the divorce case, because it ‘turned the “great matter” from an English question into an international one.’ Scarisbrick goes so far as to call Felipez’ mission a ‘turning-point in the story of the divorce’ which meant Henry’s chance of a quick decision in Rome was ‘snared.’ This is not completely true; the case also depended on factors neither side could control, such as the character of the Pope, Clement VII, a man who vacillated so much he became ‘the shuttlecock of European politics.’ Yet Katherine’s action did mean Henry’s team had to change tactics. No longer could they hurry the case along in secret courts before anyone found out; they now had to answer to European opinion, most of which was controlled by Katherine’s nephew. Katherine gained a legal team in Rome that was made up of Imperial agents, and she now had the opportunity to lobby Charles to put pressure on the Pope to have Henry’s case dismissed or decided in her favour. Katherine did write often to Charles, and her letters always implored him to ‘demand a sentence and decision’ from the Pope, but she never explicitly mentions how Charles is to do this. There is also no discussion of strategy in terms of opposition to the divorce, or mention of others whom Charles could contact (Bishop Fisher, for example). Over time, Katherine’s letters to Charles took on a more anxious tone, and she began to compare her affairs to Charles’ fight against the Turk. Bernard argues that Katherine’s letters to Charles read ‘as if she felt that he had in his hands a magic wand that could, if only he would wave it, solve her problems’ , and Claremount states that Katherine was unable to ‘grasp’ that Charles had other things to deal with. Consequently, it seems as if this correspondence to Charles was a missed opportunity, but it is difficult to see what else Katherine could have said, since she believed in a Roman settlement for her case, particularly as time wore on and she became more isolated.
Another action of Katherine’s which threw Henry’s team off balance was her declaration in 1528 that she had ‘two bulls in Spain, removing all impediments to the marriage.’ One of these was what is known as the ‘Spanish brief’, which was phrased differently from the original papal dispensation, and which nullified most of Henry’s objections to that dispensation. It is not expedient to go into detail here about the legal consequences of the brief, but it occupied Henry and Wolsey for some months. They first tried to obtain the brief by sending a deputation of counsellors to Katherine to persuade her to write for it. Katherine did write for the brief a few months later, but then sent an additional messenger to tell Charles she had been ‘compelled under oath to write in that matter.’ This messenger was one of her chaplains, Thomas Abell, whose support of Katherine would later extend to publishing a book against the divorce. The series of events over the Spanish brief show that Katherine was quite able to keep up with the machinations of Henry’s side, and also to force them to go on the defensive once in a while. Henry never got the original brief, and he and Wolsey were left to claim it was false without ever having seen it. As Bernard argues, Katherine ‘was being legally awkward in defence of her position.’
The Legatine trial, presided over by Cardinals Wolsey and Campeggio, sat in the summer of 1529. This would be where Katherine made her one spectacular showpiece of the whole divorce saga. The trial was recorded by George Cavendish, one of Wolsey’s gentlemen ushers, and his account is worth quoting in full to appreciate what Katherine said.
Sir, quoth she, I beseech you for all the love that hath been between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice and right, take of me some pity and compassion, for I am a poor woman and a stranger born out of your dominion, I have no assured friend, and much less indifferent counsel…This twenty years I have been your true wife or more, and by me ye have had divers children, although it hath pleased God to call them out of this world, which hath been no fault in me. And when ye had me at the first, I take God to be my judge, I was a true maid without touch of man, and whether it be true or no, I put it to your conscience.
Katherine was using this public and highly symbolic occasion to make several points. Firstly, she appealed to Henry and to the audience on compassionate grounds, citing her love for him and their shared loss of children. Although she did have counsel to advise her, including the venerable Bishop Fisher, she took care to present herself as a lone woman caught up in events she didn’t understand. Finally, she reiterated the main points of her opposition; that she was Henry’s true wife, and that she had been a virgin when they married. Having finished, Katherine made her opposition to the legal process clear by walking out of the court, never to return. In total, it was a worthy performance which, as Wooding states, showed Katherine was Henry’s equal ‘when it came to the moral drama that was so central to majesty.’ Katherine knew that tales of her words would soon be running through London, bolstering the support of many ordinary people who had already cheered her on the way into court. Her audience had also been those within the court; the courtiers and nobles so inclined to the King’s side who had never heard her version of events. ‘After her simple assertion of human dignity and human worth, the proceedings of the court seemed suddenly sordid and shameful’ , and the spectators were left to form new opinions. To present Katherine, as so many historians have done, as unable to form a coherent strategy in the face of Henry’s plans, is to ignore the significance of events such as this, which show how capable she was of using her strengths and her image to maximum advantage.
In the summer of 1531, Henry went on progress with Anne, leaving Katherine behind. She never saw him again. Soon afterwards, she was told to move to a separate household at The More and, during the years that followed, she was moved further and further away from Henry and the court. Antonia Fraser writes that ‘Katherine’s seclusion, at the orders of her husband…rendered her politically null: she could no longer be the symbol round which malcontents at home and abroad could rally.’ Bernard, who argues against the existence of an ‘Aragonese faction’, goes further by pointing out that contact between Katherine and potentially dissatisfied noblemen, whilst ‘theoretically possible’, did not occur. There are no recorded incidents of such people visiting Katherine in her isolation; they went to Imperial ambassador Chapuys instead.
After Henry married Anne in 1533, Katherine changed her line of opposition. It was no longer enough to insist on her virginity; instead she insisted she was Henry’s true wife, and not the ‘princess dowager’. To each commissioner sent by Henry to secure her compliance, she stated that she was queen ‘and would rather be hewn in pieces than depart from this assertation’ , even striking out the words ‘princess dowager’ on one of their documents. These arguments, whilst obviously important to Katherine, lacked the sophistication of her previous efforts, and perhaps point to her realisation that there was little she could now do to remedy her situation. When historians write of this stage in Katherine’s life, they speak of ‘isolation’ and ‘solitude’, as she turned inwards. Katherine began to use the language of martyrdom in her letters, writing that she expected ‘to be martyred at the next Parliament’ or that she ‘expects death.’ Katherine becomes harder to understand as her piety takes over; gone is the articulate, tactical woman of the Legatine trial, replaced by one who seems to desire martyrdom as the only way of making her point. In the last years of her isolation, Katherine did not really conduct an opposition to the divorce; rather she went on the defensive, lashing out at any who questioned her right to be queen, and waiting for the release of death.
Carolly Erickson argued that ‘Katherine had come to an agonising crossroads in her own character. She was being pulled three ways. She was attempting to fulfil her duty as a wife, to honour her conscience, and to retain her dignity as queen.’ Katherine herself admitted this in a letter to Charles V in November 1531, saying she had shown obedience to Henry ‘sometimes more so in this affair than my conscience approved of.’ Wifely duty required her to obey Henry in all things, but how could she obey him in a situation which was repugnant to her conscience and which would destroy her marriage? Katherine’s way of dealing with this dilemma was to take a line of opposition in which she would obey Henry in all things which did not contravene her conscience. This meant she would resist him in the divorce but not in other things, but since the divorce was the only policy Henry pursued during these years, it meant Katherine resisted him constantly. Her daughter, Mary, learned from Katherine’s example and took the same style of opposition. However, throughout the divorce years until her death in 1536, one constant theme of Katherine’s opposition was that she was incapable of criticising Henry or blaming him for what was happening. Only a month after the letter about her crisis of conscience, Katherine was admonishing the King’s advisors, who ‘continually treat him like a bull in the circus, by giving him empty hopes’, writing that ‘it is a great pity that such a good and virtuous person should be so deceived and treated every day.’ In a sense, it did not matter if Katherine blamed the King or the King’s advisors, but it did matter that she couldn’t see Henry had lost his affection for her. Katherine might insist on her virginity when she had married Henry, she might insist she was his true wife and Mary was legitimate, but to Henry none of this mattered. Henry had decided their marriage was invalid and had moved on, and Katherine was just driving him ‘mad with irritation.’ This is especially true after Henry married Anne Boleyn and, in his mind, finished the legal process of divorce from Katherine. Up to then, her opposition had been somewhat tolerated because, with the Pope still deciding the case in Rome, Henry had to keep up the appearance of allowing Katherine her say. After Henry married Anne, Katherine had the option of submitting and retiring to her estates, to spend the remainder of her life in a comfortable and respected state, but she continued to resist, causing Henry to repeatedly cut the size of her household and allowance. The inability to compromise and accept Henry’s part in the divorce was harming Katherine’s opposition at this point, because she could not see the reality of her position. ‘One has the strong impression that Katherine truly loved Henry’ , but there is also the impression that Katherine could not ‘let go’ and adapt flexibly to changed circumstances. Whilst Katherine had to balance her duties of conscience and obedience, sticking to her principles may have won her admiration, but in the long term it caused her problems which she could have avoided.
Illustrative of the dilemma Katherine faced during her opposition is her attitude to possible Imperial invasion on her behalf. In November 1533, Katherine told Chapuys she would ‘rather die’ than be the cause of war , yet in May 1534, Chapuys reported that Katherine had decided, since the King was not persuaded by the Pope’s decision on the case, that it was ‘necessary to proceed by other remedies’, which she didn’t want to name in case she contradicted ‘what she has already written.’ Was this evidence of Katherine changing her mind about possible invasion? H.F.M Prescott argued that ‘only after the terrible summer of 1535 was she driven to believe that the Emperor’s sword was needed.’ This was the summer in which More and Fisher were executed and Henry’s retribution against those who dared oppose the act of succession seemed unstoppable. Undoubtedly the fate of these men distressed Katherine, and in December 1535 she again asked Charles ‘for a remedy to her situation.’ However, in both this instance and in the letter of 1534, Katherine did not say what the ‘remedy’ should be. It is possible she still wanted Charles to put pressure on Henry through other means but, given that the Pope had already decided the case, and given her ‘often expressed opposition to violence’ , it is unclear what Charles was supposed to do. Again Katherine was caught between duty to her husband and duty to her conscience (a conscience which was appalled by religious developments). To any historiography which sees Katherine as the centre of a coherent opposition party, the answer must be made that she never called for or sanctioned political or military action against Henry. It can be speculated what she would have done had such action been instigated without her knowledge, but the only clear evidence available about her feelings are extracts where she speaks against invasion. A.G Dickens wrote that ‘to the last Katherine remained a true queen of England and a true wife: she would be no party to what she regarded as the sin of rebellion, or seek to profit from her husband’s overthrow and death.’ Given the evidence of Katherine’s character and her way of presenting herself throughout the divorce years, Dickens makes the best assessment of this issue.
To conclude this chapter, Katherine’s opposition can be divided into two time periods. Firstly, from 1527 until 1533, when she was very active in resisting the divorce and used tactics such as the Felipez mission and revealing the Spanish brief. During the Legatine trial, Katherine used her memorable speech to outline her argument and appeal to the audience for support. Katherine’s main strategy at this time was to prove she had been a virgin when she married Henry so that the Levitical doubts did not apply. From Henry’s marriage to Anne in 1533 onwards, Katherine’s opposition lost its tactical side and became concerned with insisting she was Henry’s true wife. Throughout the divorce years, however, Katherine was under strain to balance her duty as a wife and her duty to her conscience, and this shows in certain aspects of her opposition such as refusing to blame Henry and her attitudes to invasion.
