15. Wedding and bedding
C
atherine's wedding was scheduled for Sunday, 14 November (a Sunday or other Holy Day had always been the commissioners' preferred date for the celebration of the marriage, to take advantage of the extra elaboration of the religious ritual on such occasions). This left the intervening Saturday as a day of rest for Catherine. She had only one engagement, but it was an important one: her first meeting with her future mother-in-law, the Queen, Elizabeth of York.
Henry VII had already briefed his wife about his own encounter with Catherine at Dogmersfield; now the Queen would see for herself. The meeting as planned by the commissioners was a short and formal courtesy call.
Elizabeth had taken up residence with her husband a few days previously at Baynard's Castle. The house lay on the river, directly to the south of St Paul's. The way, down Paul's Chain, was short but steep and orders were given to sand the street to prevent Catherine's horses from losing their footing. According to her programme, Catherine would set out in the afternoon; be greeted at the foot of the stairs leading to the Queen's apartments by the Queen's Lord Chamberlain, who would conduct her to the presence; and then, having 'made a certain pause', she would return.
In fact, it turned into a much more sociable occasion. Elizabeth, as we have seen, was predisposed to like Catherine, and Catherine responded in kind. She did not arrive till 3 or 4 o'clock. Then, after a short formal audience, musicians were called for 'and with pleasure and goodly communication, dancing and disports, they passed the season full conveniently'. Time flew by and it was 'evening late' before Catherine left 'with torches lit to a great number'.
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* * *
Next morning, it was her wedding day. The great church was filled: people stood in the rood-lofts and vaults; they perched on window sills and packed the pavement. There were also two stands or boxes for the privileged. On the south side, the mayor and aldermen of London had an open stand; to the north, the royal family had a more elaborate box, modelled on the Closets in the Chapel Royal. It was enclosed and with glazed casements, which allowed the King and Queen to see without being seen. It also, again like the Holyday Closets, had private access. Henry VII and Elizabeth took their places. Then Arthur entered, inconspicuously like most grooms, through the south door and went to the wedding stage. Now it was time for the bride.
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Catherine left the Bishop's Palace, escorted as always by Henry, Duke of York. She entered in procession through the west doors, climbed up to the walkway and joined Arthur and the assembled clergy on the wedding stage. Trumpets, placed high in the vault as they are today to take advantage of the acoustic, rang out. But the real feast was for the eyes. Catherine's dress was white. Her skirt was stretched out over her hips by a great hoop or farthingale and on her head she wore a mantilla or veil of white silk, reaching to her waist and with a jewelled border an inch and a half wide. Was she the first bride in England to wear a veil? Certainly the herald had seen nothing like it.
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Now it was the lawyers' turn. First, the Papal dispensations authorising the marriage were read out. Then, the terms of the marriage settlements were recited. As part of the theatre of the wedding, Henry VII and Arthur publicly sealed the deeds of the dowry; while for their part the Spaniards, equally theatrically, handed over the first instalment of the marriage portion. £20,000 in gold was a bulky item, and one shilling was paid 'for the carriage of the payment of Spain from [St] Paul's to the water' – that is, to the river Thames.
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Next came the actual wedding. This lasted some three hours, after which the party processed along the western end of the walkway towards the high altar. Arthur and Catherine went hand in hand, as specified in the commissioners' brief, and the trumpets sounded again. But, just before passing through the gates of the choir, the bride and groom paused and turned to the vast congregation – now to the north, now to the south, so that everybody could see them. It seems to have been a spontaneous gesture and it sent the crowds wild: 'Some crying King Henry!'; 'some in likewise crying Prince Arthur!' But no one, apparently, cried 'Princess Catherine!'
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There followed another interminable ceremony as the Mass of the Trinity was sung. Fortunately, the commissioners had not forgotten the needs of nature. Within the sanctuary, Arthur and Catherine each had a traverse or curtained enclosure, 'to serve when need shall be' for either to relieve themselves. The traverses also had fabric roofs to protect the Prince and Princess from the prying eyes of spectators in the vaults. At the end of the mass, refreshments of wine and spices were served.
Arthur left quickly and informally, to be ready 'to receive the Princess at her chamber door', when she returned to the Bishop's Palace, 'as the custom of England is'. But Catherine once more, like a mannequin on a catwalk, processed the length of the church, with Henry, Duke of York, at her side.
She was the focus of attention also at the wedding feast, where the guests ate rare meats and drank fine wines, were served by lords and knights, and remained at table until 5 p.m. At that hour, the Earl of Oxford, holder of the hereditary office of Lord Great Chamberlain, summoned a select party to prepare the wedding bed. It included the Lady Mistresses of both Catherine and Arthur.
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The Lady Mistress was what we might call the governess. She had oversight of the royal infant and supervised the staff of the nursery. It was a position of considerable seniority. Arthur's Lady Mistress was Lady Elizabeth Darcy, Catherine's was Dona Elvira Manuel.
When Catherine left for England, Dona Elvira accompanied her, with the augmented title of First Lady of Honour and First Lady of the Bedchamber. As was usual in royal Households, Dona Elvira's husband, Pedro, held equivalent offices on the male side of Catherine's establishment, serving as her Major Domo and First Chamberlain. But there is no doubt that Dona Elvira was the heavier hitter. At Catherine's entry into London, she had ridden second in her train, dressed all in black and cutting a formidable figure with her sombre veil or mantilla, also of black, 'like unto the fashion of a religious woman (that is, a nun), after the manner of Spain'. Building on the ascendancy established in Catherine's childhood years, Dona Elvira exercised a powerful and, it would seem, malign influence over her charge until the two of them split after a violent quarrel.
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In response to Oxford's summons, the Lady Mistresses and the other ladies left to supervise the preparation of the bedchamber and the marriage-bed in its proper form. The making of royal beds was an elaborate process, which is described at length in
The Royal Book
. The bed consisted of several layers and required a large team to assemble it. Its base was a bed or litter of straw. One of the yeomen of the guard jumped into the litter and 'rolled him up and down', both to make the straw lie smoothly and to check it for any concealed weapons or other devices intended to injure the occupant. Next a protective canvas was placed over the straw, followed by a featherbed, a fustian or blanket, a lower and upper sheet, another blanket, and two or three fur rugs, including one of ermine. The upper sheet was turned down, and the pillows put in position and covered with a head sheet. The featherbed and pillows were vigorously beaten and plumped; and the sheets and blankets stretched, made wrinkle-free and tucked in. Finally, the comfort of religion was added, as a few drops of holy water were scattered to banish bad dreams.
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Some two or three hours later, all was ready. First Catherine was undressed by her ladies and 'reverently laid and disposed' in the bed. Arthur's preparations were more rumbustious. The herald bowdlerises them as 'goodly disports, dancings, with pleasure, mirth and solace'. Actually, custom dictated a sort of stag-night, with dirty songs and suggestive horseplay. The 'divinity that doth hedge a prince' imposed some restraint, but there was still plenty of scope for lewdness. The games over, a large group of nobles, gentlemen and clergy, led as always by Oxford, conducted Arthur to the bedchamber, where he lay down beside Catherine.
Solemnity returned as the bishops uttered the usual blessing over the marriage bed:
'Benedic, Domine Deus, thalamum hunc et omnes habitantes
in eo . . .'
'Bless O Lord this marriage bed and those in it . . . that they live in your love and multiply [that is, have children] and grow old together in length of days.' Send, they implored God, angels to defend and protect the couple. The prayers concluded, they scattered holy water and swung censers. Finally, with the blessings of the Church and the good wishes of their friends ringing in their ears, Arthur and Catherine were left alone.
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What happened then, only God knows.
The herald, a strictly contemporary witness, assumed that nature had taken its course: 'And thus these worthy persons concluded and consummate the effect and complement of matrimony'. Many of those present, when questioned thirty years later, asserted the same. George Talbot, the Earl of Shrewsbury, remembered accompanying Arthur to the wedding chamber and leaving him there. The Earl said he had consummated his own marriage at fifteen; Arthur was a similar age, and he took for granted that Arthur had done so too. The Marquess of Dorset recollected Arthur getting into the bed where the Lady Catherine lay under the coverlet 'as the manner is of Queens in that behalf '. He, likewise, assumed that the marriage was consummated since Arthur was 'of good and sanguine complexion' – that is, fit and healthy.
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But Catherine was to tell a very different story.
16. The morning after
T
here had been hot competition to be part of Arthur's wedding-night party. One of those who struck lucky was Sir Anthony Willoughby, a body servant of Arthur's. He was sneaked in by his father, Lord Broke, the Lord Steward of the Household and Catherine's escort on her journey from the west country. The morning after, Willoughby claimed, Arthur had boasted of his exploits. 'Willoughby,' he had ordered, 'bring me a cup of ale, for I have been this night in the midst of Spain.' There were, Willoughby asserted, several witnesses to this remark. Later, the Prince had said openly: 'Masters, it is good pastime to have a wife.' The words stuck in men's memories, as well they might, and at least one other witness confirmed the story.
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Memories? False memories? Or downright lies?
* * *
Whatever had or had not happened on the wedding night, Catherine and Arthur had plenty of time to recover from their exertions. Catherine spent the day following, Monday, 15 November, in strict solitude, receiving no one, save Oxford who brought a warmly paternal message from her father-in-law. On the Tuesday, the King, the Prince and the Duke of York processed solemnly back to St Paul's to give thanks to God 'that so prosperously His Goodness had suffered everything of this laudable [marriage] to be brought to its most laudable conclusion'. For this ceremony, roles were reversed and it was Catherine's turn to watch from the privacy of the Closet on the north side of the nave. Afterwards, she received Henry VII in her lodgings and father- and daughter-in-law exchanged 'right pleasant and favourable words, salutes and communications'. That day, too, at dinner she was served for the first time as an English Princess, not as a Spanish Infanta.
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Would all this have been done if the marriage had not been consummated? Would Catherine herself have behaved as she did?
The scene then shifts to Westminster, whither the whole royal family went in a great river procession. First, there was a mass creation of seventy-six Knights and Knights of the Bath, 'whereof so great a number and multitude have not been seen heretofore in England at one season made'. Next, there followed four days of jousts, interspersed with masques, banquets and dances and the occasional day of rest. Once again, young Henry Duke of York contrived to steal much of the thunder. At the first evening's entertainment, he was the last of the royal family to dance. He and his partner, his elder sister Margaret, began by performing two 'base' dances. These were dignified and slow – too dignified for the boisterous Henry. Finding that his heavy cloth of gold clothes got in the way of his fun, he 'suddenly cast off his gown and danced in his jacket'. It was an outrageous breach of contemporary etiquette (stripping to the waist would be the modern equivalent). But, as he would do so often in the future when he broke the rules, Henry managed to carry it off: dancing 'in so goodly and pleasant manner that it was to the King and Queen right great and singular pleasure'.
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What of Catherine's reaction to this endless round of celebrations? Did she enjoy herself? Or did she have to rely on 'her agreeable and dignified manners' to conceal her boredom? We simply do not know.
On Friday, 26 November, the great caravanserai that was the Court packed up and moved, again by water, to Richmond. Over the weekend, the King delighted in showing off to his guests the amenities of his new palace (which even included running water). The star-turn among the many entertainments was a performance by a Spanish acrobat on a tightrope. But this was the finale and on Monday, 29 November, the Spanish ambassadors who had escorted Catherine took their leave. They carried with them a sort of souvenir wedding album, consisting of 'many goodly books, pictures and examples of this most excellent . . . marriage', as well as letters from the King, the Prince and the Queen. Arthur's letter assured his Spanish parents-in-law that Catherine was everything he could desire:
He had never felt such joy in his life as when he beheld the sweet face of his bride. No woman in the world could be more agreeable to him. [He] promises to be a good husband.