Читать книгу The Queens of England (Vol. 1-3) - Strickland Agnes - Страница 38

Katharine of Arragon was born when her native land was at the very height of its prosperity. Her parents were Ferdinand and Isabella, the powerful and popular sovereigns, who had conquered nearly the whole of Spain.

Katharine's early infancy was passed in a camp where Queen Isabella resided with her young family while her army besieged the town of Granada. This siege lasted for several years, but the town was taken at last; and when Katharine was four years old she accompanied her parents in their grand triumphal entry into Granada, where she lived until she went to England.

Her residence was in the Alhambra, that gorgeous palace, once the abode of the Moorish kings, always an object of wonder and admiration, even to this very day when it is almost in ruins. Part of her time was passed in the cool, shady bowers of the Generalife, the fairy palace which stood on a mountain high above the Alhambra, in the midst of luxuriant groves, fruit, flowers, arbors and hedges, such as only a southern climate can produce. It was from this home that Katharine took her device of the pomegranate, which was used during her reign in England as a decoration. This fruit was once a production of Granada, and was worked on the coat-of-arms of the Moorish kings.

Queen Isabella was the most learned princess of her time in Europe, and knew the importance of a good edu-

cation for her four daughters. Consequently she provided them with the very best tutors she could find, and they early became excellent Latin scholars. Katharine read the Scriptures in that tongue, and throughout her whole life continued to study it.

When she was sixteen years old Henry VII. of England sent ambassadors to Spain to demand her hand in marriage for his son, Prince Arthur. The union was agreed upon, and Katharine sailed with four young ladies and other attendants for Plymouth, where she was received by a crowd of nobility and gentry, who entertained her all the time she was amongst them with a variety of sports peculiar to their country. As soon as her arrival was known the king sent Lord Brook, steward of the royal palace, to provide everything for her comfort. The Duchess of Norfolk and the Earl of Surrey went to meet her also, and the former remained as her companion.

The following month the king himself set out for Plymouth, but the roads were in such a wet, muddy condition that it was several days before he reached East Hampstead, where he met Prince Arthur, who did not until then know of the arrival of his bride. Next morning they continued their journey, but had not gone far when they were met by a party of Spanish cavaliers on horseback, who stopped them, and in a most solemn manner informed them that they could not proceed further, because their Moorish customs forbade the royal bridegroom or his father to look upon the face of the bride until she stood at the altar.

King Henry was amazed. He was quite willing to observe all reasonable forms and ceremonies, but to his English ideas this seemed thoroughly absurd, and he was not willing to turn back.

He had come to a dead halt in the drenching rain on that cold November morning, and felt rather cross at having his progress thus interrupted. After a few moments consideration he called his councillors about him, and asked what he should do. A long discussion ensued, and the conclusion was, "that the Spanish infanta, being now in the heart of this realm of which King Henry was master, he might look at her if he liked." This suited the king precisely, and, leaving his son behind, he rode rapidly forward to the next town, where Katharine had arrived only a couple of hours before. Her retinue were thrown into a terrible state of perplexity when Henry made a request to see her, and presented himself for that purpose at the very door of her apartments. An archbishop, a bishop, and a count stood guard, and informed the king "that the lady infanta had retired to her chamber." But the more opposition he met with the more his curiosity was aroused, and the more determined was he to see the bride. He declared that "if she were even in bed he meant to see and speak with her, for that was his mind and the whole intent of his coming."

There was nothing more to be said, and further opposition might have given serious offence to the monarch, therefore the infanta dressed herself and admitted him. The interview must have been rather unsatisfactory, because neither could speak the language of the other; however somebody must have interpreted what was said, for King Henry seemed much pleased.

He withdrew, to change his damp garments, and within half an hour presented himself again at Katharine's door, this time with the prince, who had followed him. In the presence of several bishops and nobles the young people went through the ceremony of betrothal, which was done in Latin, and therefore understood by both. After supper the king and Prince Arthur returned to the infanta's apartments, where the evening was passed in music and dancing,

interspersed with singing by the minstrels. Prince Arthur could not join in the Spanish dances, but he knew the English ones, and went through the figures with one of the ladies of his own country.

Katharine continued her journey next day, and on her arrival at Kingston was met by the Duke of Buckingham on horseback, the Earl of Kent, Lord Henry Stafford, the Abbot of Bury, and four hundred dukes and gentlemen, in the Stafford livery of scarlet and black, who came to welcome her into the realm. She rested at that place all night, and was escorted to Kensington Palace next day by Buckingham and his train. There she stopped until the Spanish retinue, as well as all the nobility of England, could make the necessary preparations for her grand entry to London.

In the meantime King Henry went to meet his wife at Richmond, and to tell her what he thought of their new daughter-in-law. The royal couple then came down the Thames, in a barge, with a party of ladies to welcome the stranger.

Three days later the infanta entered the city by London Bridge, riding on a large mule, according to the Spanish custom. The Duke of York rode on her right and the pope's ambassador on her left. She had on a broad, round hat, the shape of those worn by cardinals, tied down at the sides with a scarf of gold lace. Under this hat was a closely-fitting red cap, and her long dark hair streamed over her shoulders. Her four Spanish damsels followed on mules, each led by an English lady, dressed in cloth of gold and riding on a small horse. After these came the whole grand procession, and all advanced to Bishop's Palace.

A.D. 1501. Four days later the marriage ceremony was performed at St. Paul's Cathedral, on a platform six feet high and large enough to hold eight persons. The were present at the ceremony. The king and queen sat in a box that had been built for their use near the platform. After the ceremony the bride and bridegroom followed the churchmen to the high altar, where mass was celebrated. Standing in the great doorway of the cathedral, Prince Arthur endowed his bride with one-third of his property. The princess was then led by her brother-in-law, young Henry, to the Bishop's Palace of St. Paul's, where a banquet was spread. The newly-wedded couple were served bride, who never entirely gave up her Spanish style of dress, wore a closely-fitting cap of white silk, from which hung the Spanish mantilla, embroidered with gold, pearls and precious stones, that almost concealed her figure. Her body and sleeves were made very full, and she wore a large hoop under her skirts.

Prince Arthur was dressed in white satin. The Archbishop of Canterbury and nineteen bishops and abbots on gold plate, ornamented with pearls and precious stones, valued at twenty thousand pounds.

The following week a grand tournament was held in the open space in front of Westminster Hall. There was a stage erected for the royal party. On the right entered the king and his lords; on the left, the queen, the bride, and their ladies, and took their seats on richly embroidered cushions, under a canopy draped with cloth of gold. The places, that were arranged one above another, in rows like those in a circus, to form an enormous circle, were so packed with people that only their heads could be seen. Presently loud blasts from the trumpets announced the arrival of the knights, who were borne into the arena under fanciful canopies. The Earl of Essex sat in a pavilion among trees, flowers, and rocks, with curious-looking animals climbing up the sides. A handsome young lady, fantastically dressed, stood on a green hill above the earl. The Marquis of Dorset appeared in a pavilion all draped in gold, wearing a complete suit of armor. Lord William Courtenay rode an enormous red dragon, led by a giant carrying a tree in his hands. There were twenty or thirty in all of these curiously-adorned knights, who marched around the arena to the delight of the audience, and then engaged in a tilt that caused many a bruise and scratch, but no serious damage to anybody.

When evening came on the royal company withdrew to Westminster Hall. At the upper end was a dais with elevated seats for the king, queen, the bride and groom, and the king's mother. All the ladies sat on the left side and the gentlemen on the right, and the nobility, who were not engaged in the performance or ballets that followed, took their places on the king's side of the hall according to their rank. When a couple desired to dance between the entrances of the regular performers, the gentleman would advance to the front of the dais from his side, the lady would do the same from hers, and after a few minutes' dancing return to their respective places. The first pageant was a full-rigged ship drawn in on wheels. The mariners performed their duties as though they were really at sea, and used only seafaring terms. Next came a castle all lighted up inside, eight young women appearing at the windows handsomely attired in the newest styles. At the top window of the castle sat a lady in Spanish costume representing Katharine of Arragon. The princess must have been amused when she saw her double, who sat up quite haughtily, while two gentlemen courted her and sought in every possible way to gain her favor. For a while she treated their attentions with disdain, but at last, as in all ballets, matters took a favorable turn; the ladies came out of the castle, were joined by the sailors from the ship, and the whole party danced a grand set of exceedingly pretty figures, and then disappeared into the castle again. This structure was drawn by marvellous gold and silver lions harnessed with massive gold chains. But we must explain what these beasts really were. In each one were two men, one in the fore and the other in the hind quarters, so completely hidden that nothing appeared of them but their legs, which were made to look like those of the real lions. Then Prince Arthur danced with his aunt, the Princess Cicely, Henry, Duke of York, with his sister Margaret, and Katharine with one of her Spanish ladies. There was considerable difference in the two styles of dancing, for the English movements were quick and lively, while those of the Spanish were slow and stately, resembling a minuet. The king and queen were much pleased with these performances of their children, and watched them with a great deal of pride.

At a grand dinner given in Parliament Chamber on the

following Sunday, Katharine distributed the prizes won in the tilt. To the Duke of Buckingham she gave a valuable diamond; to the Marquis of Dorset, a superb ruby, and to the others, rings set with precious stones.

A week later the court went to Richmond, where, after mass on the first Sunday, they all assembled in the gardens and played games of chess, backgammon, cards, and dice, while some Spaniards entertained them with tumbling and dancing. In the evening a huge rock was drawn by three sea-horses into the grand hall, where the ladies and gentlemen were assembled. On either side of the rock were mermaids made of shells, and inside of the figures were the sweet-voiced children who sang in the king's chapel. These could not be seen, but their harmony filled the air as the rock was drawn slowly through the whole length of the hall. When it reached the platform on which sat the royal family, a large number of white doves flew out, and live rabbits ran about the hall, causing great shouting and merriment. King Henry closed the entertainment by making rich gifts of plate to the lords and ladies from Spain, who then took leave of their princess, as they were going back home.

Katharine looked very sad after they had left her, and the king observing this sent word for her and her ladies to join him in his library. There he showed them all the pretty English and Latin books that he thought would please them, laughed and chatted in a kind friendly manner with his daughter-in-law, and then asked her to select some jewels from a lot that he had ordered for her. After she had made her choice, he distributed the rest among her ladies, and so won Katharine's heart by his warm, affectionate treatment that she ceased to feel depressed in her English home.

A few months later the princess went with her husband to Wales, where they were to have a little court of their own similar to the one at Westminster. Katharine performed the journey on horseback, and when she felt fatigued she rested on a litter, borne between two horses. This was the only mode of travelling before turnpike roads were made.

The Prince and Princess of Wales made themselves very popular in their new home, but they did not stay there long, for Arthur was taken suddenly ill, and died of the plague the following April, 1502, just six months after his marriage.

A.D. 1502. The queen was sorely grieved at the sudden death of her eldest child, but she did not forget to sympathize with the young widow left alone in a strange land, the language of which had hardly become familiar to her ear. She sent for her immediately, and had her brought to London in a litter covered with black velvet and black cloth that must have looked very like a hearse, and settled her in a palace called Arragon House, where she spent part of her widowhood. Her marriage portion consisted of two hundred thousand crowns. Half the sum had been paid, and her parents being unwilling to pay the other half, requested that their daughter should be returned to them. But Henry VII. wanted to get hold of the other half of his daughter-in-law's portion, he therefore proposed a marriage between her and his younger son Henry. This was accepted by the sovereigns of Spain, providing a dispensation from the pope could be obtained. This was necessary on account of the relationship.

Katharine seems to have been very unhappy at this time, and wrote her father that she had no desire to marry again, adding, "that she did not wish him to consider her tastes or wishes, but to act in all things as suited him best."

Such dutiful conduct excites our surprise when we consider that she was the principal person concerned. It seems quite natural that at the age of eighteen she should have objected to a union with a boy five years younger, even though he had not been so nearly related to her.

Notwithstanding her objections, two such diplomatists as King Ferdinand and Henry VII. were pretty sure to arrange matters to suit themselves, and about a year after Katharine became a widow, she was betrothed to the young prince. Six years elapsed before the marriage was celebrated, during which period Henry VII. died, and his son Henry ascended the throne. Immediately after this event he assured the Spanish ambassador of his attachment to Katharine, saying that he loved her better than any other woman in the world.

There was a great deal of discussion among the church{358]men on account of the relationship existing between Henry and Katharine, but at last all difficulties were overcome and they were married. A few days later the coronation took place at Westminster.

A.D. 1510. On this occasion the streets of London were as usual all decorated, and part of the way to the abbey was lined with young maidens dressed in pure white, bearing palms of white wax in their hands. They were attended by priests swinging silver censers as the king and queen passed by. Katharine was attired as a bride in white embroidered satin-, her dark hair fell in rich profusion down her back, and on her head she wore a crown set with rich jewels. She was seated in a litter covered with white cloth of gold, borne by two white horses, and was followed by all the noble ladies of England in little chariots. After the coronation a grand banquet was spread in Westminster Hall. The king and queen were served on an elevated platform at the upper end of the hall, while several ladies of high rank sat at Katharine's feet holding her pocket-handkerchief, table-napkin, fan and purse. At the end of a week the festivities came suddenly to an end on account of the death of the king's grandmother. Then a pestilence broke out in London, and the court removed to Richmond Place, where Henry planned all sorts of performances, parties and masquerades, in which he enjoyed taking part. Katharine did not care so much for that kind of diversion, for she was naturally quiet and studious, and felt more interested in practical employment.

At one of the Christmas festivals the king slyly left her side during the progress of a tournament, and returned in the disguise of a knight, astonishing all the company with the grace and skill of his tilting. The applause he received induced him to take part often in these exercises, and when he would present himself before his wife in different disguises she good-humoredly pretended to be very much mystified. Once he entered her room with several nobles dressed as Robin Hood and his men, and another time when the foreign ambassadors were invited to dine at court Henry conducted his wife to her throne, then suddenly disappeared, and in a few minutes returned with the Earl of Essex, both disguised as Turks, while other nobles followed him in Russian, Persian and Moorish costumes, the last having their faces blacked. The king's beautiful sister, Mary, with several of the court ladies, danced a ballet in mask, which amused Katharine very much, particularly as the princess was attired like an Ethiopian queen. In all the decorations used on these occasions the pomegranate was mingled with the roses of York and Lancaster, and the Tudor device of the hawthorn with its scarlet berries.

At the close of the year 1510 the queen had a little boy, and he was named Henry. The king was so much pleased at this event that a grand tournament was given to celebrate it. In the evening a nobleman came to inform the queen that there was a gold arbor full of ladies who had prepared something for her entertainment. Katharine answered very graciously "that both she and her ladies would be happy to behold them and their pastimes." Then a large curtain was drawn aside, and an arbor moved forward. It had posts and pillars covered with gold and twined with branches of hawthorn, roses and eglantine, all made of satin and silk, the colors of the different flowers. In the arbor were six beautiful young girls in white and green satin dresses, covered with the letters H. and K. knit together with gold lacing. Near the bower stood the king himself, with five lords dressed in purple satin, likewise covered with the gold letters H. and K. Then they all danced before Katharine, and while they were thus engaged a very different scene was going on at the other end of the hall. The golden arbor that the ladies left for the dance had been rolled back close to where a large crowd of Londoners had gathered to see the grand doings at court, as they always did in those days. They began to finger the ornaments, and finally to pluck them off until they had entirely stripped the bower. The chief steward tried to prevent this destruction, but not wishing to disturb the ballet by using violence he failed entirely. Meanwhile the king finished his performance, and feeling in an excellent humor at its success he called to the women in the crowd to come and help themselves to the golden letters from his dress and that of his company. Little did he imagine what would be the result of this order, for scarcely was it given than the whole assembly rushed forward like a mob, and seized not only on him but all his guests, helping themselves to every glittering ornament that was in sight They even went so far as to take the jewels of the ladies, and to strip the king of most of his fine clothing. One of the gentlemen was left with nothing on but his flannels. It was amazing what a clean sweep was made in a few minutes of all the finery. At last the guards succeeded in clearing the hall without bloodshed, and the king laughing heartily handed his wife to the banquet in his own chamber, where the court sat down in their tattered condition, treating the whole scramble as a frolic. No doubt the young king had received a lesson by which he profited later. A few weeks after his birth the young prince died, much lamented by everybody at court.

The following year Henry invaded France in person, leaving the queen not only with the reins of government in her own hands, but making her besides captain of all his forces, with the assistance of five nobles. During the king's absence the Scots invaded his kingdom, but were repulsed. It is remarkable that two of the greatest victories gained over that nation were those of Neville's Cross and Flodden Field, both fought under the management of queens in the absence of their husbands.

After the battle at Neville's Cross Katharine went on a pilgrimage to Walsingham shrine, and returned just in time to welcome her husband, who took her by surprise at Richmond, where there was a most loving meeting between the royal couple. He had travelled through his realm in disguise, therefore the queen had not been informed that he was coming so soon.

A.D. 1514. Henry had been victorious in France, and the war ended there by the marriage of his beautiful young sister Mary and Louis XII. Anne Boleyn, who was then a young girl, went with the bride as her attendant.

Mary was in love with the Duke of Suffolk when she was forced into this marriage with the King of France. In less than three months the young husband died, and then the duke, who was sent to France to take care of the widow and her property, married her. Henry VIII. was very angry at first at the sly way in which this love-affair had been managed, but Katharine made peace between the brother and sister, and invited the young couple to Greenwich Palace, where she entertained them with a grand festival.

On the first of May the king gave a party, which was conducted in this way: Katharine, with the young bride and all the court ladies, rode from the palace to Shooter's Hill, where the king, with the archers of his body-guard, met them, dressed like Robin Hood and his outlaws, and begged that the royal party "would enter the good greenwood and see how outlaws lived."

Katharine graciously consented, and was led to a rustic bower, covered with hawthorn boughs and spring flowers, where a fine breakfast of venison and other good things was laid out. This lodge in the wilderness delighted all the ladies, and a couple of hours were very pleasantly passed in eating and chatting. On their return to Greenwich they were met by a car, all decorated with natural flowers and ribbons, and drawn by five horses. Each horse was ridden by a fair damsel, dressed in gay colors, and in the car, amidst garlands of flowers, stood lady May, attended by the goddess Flora. As soon as the queen appeared at the foot of the hill these young girls began a hymn about the return of spring, and preceded the royal party all the way home, singing as they moved along.

A.D. 1520. Queen Katharine had two royal visitors at her palace. One was Queen Margaret, widow of James IV. of Scotland, who took refuge with Henry VIII. from the troubles in her own country; the other was her nephew, who afterwards became so illustrious as the Emperor

Charles V. The latter spent several days with his aunt, who entertained him royally, then proceeded with the English Court to that congress with the King and Queen of France known on account of its splendor as the Field of the Cloth of Gold. At that meeting the carpet beneath Katharine's throne was all embroidered in pearls, and the decorations of the camp were of corresponding magnificence.

At that time Katharine formed a warm friendship for Queen Claude of France, surnamed the Good, a lady of superior intellect and taste. Henry and King Francis also became very much attached to each other, though that did not prevent their fighting when an opportunity offered.

When Charles V. parted from his Aunt Katharine she presented him with a beautiful English horse, and a saddlecloth, of gold tissue, bordered with precious stones. On his return home, he often spoke of Katharine's happiness in having married so grand a prince as Henry VIII.

While Queen Katharine was in power several improvements were made in England, particularly in the cultivation of fruit and flowers. During the wars some of the finest trees had disappeared entirely, but Katharine had them replanted, as well as salad, cabbage and carrots, which she imported for that purpose from the Holland.

An old rhyme says:—

"Hops and turkeys, carps and beer,

Came to England all in one year."

We cannot help wondering why hops were cultivated, because Henry VIII., who interfered in all the most trifling concerns of his subjects, forbade them to put hops in their ale. The turkeys were brought from North America by a lieutenant in Sebastian Cabot's voyage of discovery.

Before giving an account of Katharine's wrongs and sufferings, which began after she had been married about ten years, let us see how both she and King Henry VIII. are described by people who lived in their time.

Sebastiano Giustiniani, an Italian who lived in England, says, writing in 1519:—

"His majesty is about twenty-nine years of age, as handsome as nature could form him—handsomer by far than the King of France. He is exceedingly fair, and as well-proportioned as possible. When he heard that the King of France wore a beard he allowed his to grow also, which, being somewhat red, has the appearance of being of gold. He is an excellent musician and composer, an admirable horseman and wrestler. He possesses a good knowledge of the French, Latin, and Spanish languages, and is very devout. On the days when he goes hunting he hears mass three times, but on other days as often as five times. He has vesper service every day in the queen's chamber. He is uncommonly fond of the chase, and every time he attends one he tires out eight or ten horses, stationed at different places where he proposes to stop. When one is fatigued he mounts another, and by the time he returns home they are all used up. He takes great delight in bowling, and it is the pleasantest sight in the world to see him engaged in this exercise with his fair skin covered with a beautifully fine shirt. Affable and benign, he offends none, and has often said to his ambassadors that he wished every one were as content with his condition as he was."

Katharine was then about thirty-four, but looked no older than her husband, because he was a robust, burly man, while she had a slender, stately figure. Her face was oval, features regular, with a sweet, calm look, though rather heavy. Her forehead was unusually high, and she had large, dark eyes, and a bright brunette complexion. She usually wore a five-cornered cap, bordered with rich gems, that stood up around her head like a crown, and came down the sides of her face, covering the ears. From this cap hung the black Spanish mantilla, and around her throat, waist and wrists were clusters of rubies, linked together with strings of pearls, pendants of the same from the belt, reaching almost to her feet. In one of her portraits she is represented in a robe of dark-blue velvet, with a long train, bordered with sable fur, straight sleeves, with ruffles around the hand, loose hanging sleeves over them, and a petticoat of gold-colored satin, that shows beneath the velvet dress, raised on one side.

Katharine was very pious, self-denying, and almost a nun in her performance of religious duties. She would rise at different times of the night for prayers, and always dressed for the day at five o'clock in the morning. She wore the habit of the St. Francis order of nuns beneath her royal robes, and unlike the ladies of the present day, she was often heard to say that she considered no part of her time so much wasted as that passed in dressing and adorning herself.

She fasted on Fridays and Saturdays and on all the saints' days, confessed every week, and received the Eucharist every Sunday. For two hours after dinner one of her attendants read books on religion to her.

Notwithstanding this devotion Katharine enjoyed lively conversation, and often invited Sir Thomas More, whose society gave her great pleasure, to her private suppers with the king. She was fond of needle-work also, and left some rich specimens of her skill, that were for a long time preserved in the Tower.

Although she took great interest in all English customs, and tried to make her subjects forget that she was a foreigner, she never could fancy field-sports, though Henry expressed great displeasure because she would not mount.

Cardinal Wolsey occupied a prominent position in England at this time, and he was a very good friend to Katharine until she felt compelled to express her opinion of a certain bad action of his, which was brought about in this way: One day the Duke of Buckingham was holding the basin for the king to wash his hands when the cardinal poked his in also. The duke became very indignant at such presumption, for he considered it beneath his dignity to perform such an office for anybody but his sovereign; he therefore flung the water all over the cardinal's feet, whereupon that worthy prelate scowled revengefully, and angrily a horse and hunt as Englishwomen did. For his sake she pretended to like games, though she really had little taste in that direction. Even after her misfortunes began, the great Erasmus said to Henry: "Your noble wife spends the time reading the sacred volume which other princesses occupy with cards and dice." That renowned scholar always held her up as an example to her sex, and dedicated a very important work to her, called "Christian Matrimony." threatened punishment. He carried it into effect, and succeeded in causing the execution of the duke on a charge of treasonable sorcery.

Buckingham had been one of Katharine's earliest friends in England, and she could not help remonstrating against the injustice of his sentence. She even pleaded for him with the king, but failed. Wolsey's opposition was too strong, so Katharine revenged herself by openly censuring his cruel conduct, for which he never forgave her.

The next year Charles V. visited his aunt again at Greenwich Palace. He came really for the purpose of urging the king to make war against France, though he pretended that it was to engage himself to his little cousin, Princess Mary, then only six years old.

Queen Katharine met him at the hall-door, with her daughter by her side, and blessed him as he kneeled down before her. He stayed in England six weeks, and the result of his visit was more fighting in France.

Then Anne Boleyn returned home, and was appointed maid of honor to Queen Katharine. She was a great beauty, and such a belle at court that unhappily Henry fell in love with her. But he did not make his feelings known just then because the queen's health was very bad, and no doubt he flattered himself that she might accommodate him by dying, and thus spare him the trouble of a divorce. However she grew better, and then, with Wolsey's assistance, Henry began to make plans for ridding himself of her. His first step was to complain to his confessor that his conscience troubled him for having married his brother's widow, but it seems strange that that inward monitor had been silent for so many years. He set spies to watch Katharine's actions, hoping, no doubt, that something might be discovered to help his cause; but he was disappointed, and the queen was secretly informed of his intentions. Naturally she was very indignant, and wanted to consult her nephew, Charles V., as to what she ought to do. For that purpose she sent a faithful servant, but he was stopped on the way by one of Wolsey's agents.

She then expressed her intention of going to law about the matter, and consulted her confessor, hoping that it would be laid before the church. The poor, friendless woman might have known that she could scarcely look for justice in a land not her own against a popular sovereign and his all-powerful adviser. She had an interview with her husband, but he put her off with deceitful excuses and fair promises, and she was forced to await patiently whatever his pleasure might prompt.

In the meantime a pestilence broke out in London, and several of the royal household died of it. This so alarmed Henry that he made thirty-nine wills, confessed his sins every day, and passed most of his time in penitence and prayer, his only recreation being the mixing of medicines and the compounding of plasters and ointments. He even sent Anne Boleyn home to her relations. But no sooner did the pestilence disappear than his jovial spirits returned, and he began to write daily love-letters to his favorite. Wolsey, to aid the king's divorce, had made the pope believe that Katharine wished to retire from the world and lead a religious life, and it is possible that he thought she might be persuaded to do so.

A.D. 1528. She did not know of this deception until Campeggio, the pope's legate, arrived in England in 1528. Then, in order to disprove it, she adopted a different course of conduct, became gay and lively, and encouraged all sorts of diversions among her court ladies. She tried to make herself popular with her subjects too, by being more gracious than before, and appearing oftener in public. This behavior was turned against her by the king's council, t who were told that the queen was only gay because her husband was sad, and that she was conspiring for his death and that of his cardinal. Thereupon they advised Henry to separate himself from her entirely, and to remove the Princess Mary from her guardianship. This piece of malice was a sting bitterer than death.

Katharine knew that Wolsey was her chief persecutor, and did not hesitate to charge him with all her troubles as well as with being an enemy to her nephew, Charles V.

That emperor was very much distressed when he heard of the turn affairs had taken, and declared that if the pope decided against his aunt he would not complain, but if not, he would support her and her daughter as far as possible.

In May, 1529, there was a solemn court held in the great hall of the palace at Blackfriars, Wolsey and Campeggio presiding. Each of the prelates was seated in a large chair, covered with rich tapestry, near a long table. On the right was a canopy with a massive chair for the king, and on the left a similar one for the queen. Henry did not appear at first, but Katharine entered the hall, attended by four bishops and a train of court ladies, to say that she would only accept the decision of the pope, because the cardinals who were present were too prejudiced to be just. She then left.

After several weeks of discussion the king and queen were both summoned to appear in court. When the crier called: "Henry, King of England, come into court," he answered distinctly, and standing up beneath his canopy, spoke of the virtues of his wife and of his unwillingness to part from her, excepting to soothe the pangs of his conscience. Then Katharine was called. She was already present, seated in her chair, and merely rose to explain that the action of the court was illegal, stating reasons why such was the case. Her name was called again. Then she rose a second time, and walked around the table the whole length of the court, until she came to where the king sat. Kneeling down before him, she made a most touching appeal, begging him to take compassion on her, a stranger in his land, and let her have some justice. She also requested him to suspend the trial until she could hear from her family in Spain and get their advice.

After she had finished her long address to the king, she made a low bow, and with a dignified air slowly marched out of court. As she moved away, her name was called several times, whereupon the person on whose arm she leaned said: "Madam, you are called back."

"I hear it well enough," she replied; "but on—on—go you on, for this is no court wherein I can have justice."

Her appeal to the king had made such an impression on all present that he made a long speech, lamenting "that his conscience should urge the divorce of such a queen who had ever been a devoted wife, full of gentleness and virtue." The members of his council knew well that he was not speaking the truth, but they did not dare to tell him so. As Cardinal Wolsey was still a favorite, the king closed his harangue by an assurance that he was in no way to blame for the desired divorce.

A week later Katharine was summoned to court again, but refused to obey, and with her own hand wrote an appeal to the pope. The cardinals had done all they could think of to get the queen to consent to a divorce, and being at a loss how to proceed, they took a vacation of three months. At the expiration of that term the two cardinals went to Bridewell, and requested a private interview with Katharine. She received them courteously, impressed upon them her forlorn situation in a foreign land, deprived of counsel, and told them that she would be grateful if they would advise her how to act. She then withdrew with them to a private room, where they remained for nearly an hour in earnest conversation. She must have argued her case well, for both the cardinals were won over to her side, and would never say another word against her. This was the only cause for offence that King Henry ever had against Wolsey, who ceased, from that moment, to be his favorite.

When the court met again, the king was very angry to hear that the question of his divorce must be referred to the pope. He wanted it settled in his way and in England. Shortly after, Wolsey had an interview with the king, which proved his last.

The king and queen passed Christmas together at Greenwich with the usual festivities, and seemed to be on very good terms, he treating the Princess Mary very tenderly, and showing Katharine the respect due the Queen of England.

Henry had an object in this; he wanted his wife to withdraw her appeal from Rome, and let the matter be decided in England, but she refused. Then he got angry, put a sudden stop to the court diversions, and retired to the palace at Whitehall that he had just taken from Wolsey.

Later, he sent a message to the queen entreating her to "quiet his conscience." She replied: "God grant my husband a quiet conscience; but I mean to abide by no decision excepting that of Rome."

This answer put the king in a perfect fury. After the festival of Trinity he accompanied the queen to Windsor, but left in a few days, and sent her word to be out of the castle before his return. "Go where I may," was the reply of the forsaken queen, "I am his wife, and for him I will pray!" She immediately left Windsor Castle, and never again beheld her husband or child. She went to reside at Ampthill, whence she wrote her daughter letters full of most excellent advice, always praying her to submit to her father's will. Her reason for this was that she wished the child to keep in the king's good graces, knowing that he would some time or other acknowledge her rights. Once, on hearing of Mary's illness, Katharine wrote to Cromwell for permission to see her, but was cruelly refused.

Finding at last that the decision at Rome was likely to be against him, the king induced Dr. Cranmer, who had just been made Archbishop of Canterbury, to conclude the long agitated question of the divorce by granting it. At the commencement of the following year he married Anne Boleyn, and there were insurrections raised in many parts of the kingdom on account of it.

Had Queen Katharine not been such a good woman she might have given the king a great deal of trouble by heading a party against him, particularly as the House of Commons had requested him to take her back. At the end of several months Cranmer succeeded in getting the divorce settled; but the sorrow and anxiety that poor Katharine had suffered had broken down her health, so that when Lord Montjoy went to inform her that she was no longer Queen of England, but dowager Princess of Wales, he found her very ill in bed. She declared that she had been crowned and anointed queen, and would be called by that title as long as she lived, and no bribes or threats would move her in the least. She forbade her servants to take an oath to serve her as Princess of Wales, and many of them were obliged to quit her service because they would not disobey her. Those who remained were excused from taking the oath at all.

Katharine always judged her rival in the most charitable light, and seemed to think her an object of pity. Once when one of her women cursed Anne Boleyn, because she saw how troubled her mistress was, Katharine said: "Hold your peace! curse her not, but rather pray for her, for even now is the time fast coming when you shall have reason to pity her and lament her case."

Katharine had removed to Buckden, where she passed her time in praying and deeds of charity, or embroidering for the churches. After a while she regained her peace of mind, and made herself greatly beloved by the country people, who visited her frequently, and showed her the deepest respect. Other messengers were sent to her from Henry, requesting her to call herself Prince Arthur's widow, and to resign the title of queen. This made her very angry, and she declared that she was the king's wife, not his subject, and would be called queen until she died. She was the only person in the realm who dared to defy the king; she had lost his love, but not his esteem. Anybody at court who was known to speak in Katharine's favor was either locked up in the Tower or executed, and a perfect reign of terror was the result. When she heard how her friends had suffered on her account her health grew worse, and as she was anxious to live for the sake of her daughter she sent a request to the king to appoint her a residence nearer London. He named Fotheringay Castle, a place that was notoriously unhealthy. But Katharine absolutely refused to go there, and after a great deal of opposition on the part of the king's agents she was removed to Kimbolton Castle, deprived of many comforts that her ill-health made necessary for her. One serious cause of distress to Katharine was the imprisonment of her two confessors, who, simply because they took sides with her, were subjected to the most cruel torments.

A.D. 1536. By the end of the year the queen was on her death-bed. When she knew her end was approaching she sent an entreaty to Henry that she might be permitted to see her child and give her a blessing. It was refused. A few days before she expired Katharine called one of her maids to her bedside and, dictated a farewell letter to the king, in which she pardons him for all the misery he has caused her, and prays that God may also pardon him. She commends their daughter Mary to his care, and begs him to be a good father to her. And in conclusion she requests marriage portions for her three maids, and a year's extra pay for all her other servants lest they should be unprovided for. Henry shed tears on reading the letter, and sent Eustachio, the Spanish ambassador, to attend Katharine's death-bed. He and Lady Willoughby, the friend and countrywoman of the queen, who hastened to her at the last, were the only persons present when she passed away. In her will she left a few legacies, but her income had been so cut down during the last few years of her existence that she had not much to dispose of. She mentions her dresses that Henry kept when she was so brutally turned away from his palace, and begs that they be used for church ornaments. She was buried at Peterborough Abbey, and for several years a canopy covered with a black velvet cloth, on which was embroidered a large silver cross and the Spanish coat-of-arms, stood over the grave.

Henry had a solemn service at Greenwich on the day of Katharine's burial, at which he appeared with his attendants in deep mourning, and commanded all his court to do the same. Anne Boleyn dressed herself and all her ladies in yellow instead, and heartlessly laughed over the death of the queen. "I am grieved," she said, "not because she is dead, but for the vaunting of the good end she made." She had reason to speak so, for nothing was talked of but the Christian death-bed of Katharine, and many books and papers were written in her praise.

A short time after her burial some of her friends ventured to suggest to the king that a monument ought to be erected to her memory. He answered: "That he would have to her memory one of the goodliest monuments in Christendom." This was the beautiful abbey church of Peterborough, for when Henry VIII. caused the destruction of all the convents and monasteries in England he spared that one because it contained Queen Katharine's remains. Through all her bitter trials no enemy was successful in tarnishing Katharine of Arragon's good name, but Shakspeare is the only writer who has properly appreciated her moral worth.