The Girls' Book of Famous Queens

Margaret was summoned to the French court, and it was there arranged that she should pawn Calais to Louis XI., and that her son Edward, who was now a youth, should be married to the daughter of the Earl of Warwick, the Lady Anne Nelville. Thus Warwick espoused the cause of the Red Rose, and a new expedition was prepared for the invasion of England. Warwick was at first successful. King Edward fled; Henry VI. was released from his restraint in the Tower, where he had been held as a royal prisoner; but having been treated with kindness, and weary of conflict, he was not overjoyed at his restoration. Margaret prepared to go to England with her son, the Prince of Wales, and his young bride Anne. But furious storms again overtook her, and ere she landed at Weymouth, her fortune had again forsaken her. When the dreadful news reached her of the death of Warwick and recapture of King Henry, she fell in a swoon, and upon regaining consciousness, refused for a long time to be comforted. At length she was visited by Lancastrian nobles, who persuaded her to again unfurl the banner of the Red Rose.

At Tewkesbury the fatal battle was fought which laid the Red Rose in the dust. Upon this battle-field the last hope of the unfortunate queen perished forever. The brave young Prince of Wales was taken prisoner; and being brought into the presence of King Edward, the monarch, impressed with the noble bearing of the youth, inquired “how he durst so presumptuously enter his realms, with banners displayed against him?” to which the prince, with more courage than policy, boldly replied, “To recover my father’s crown and mine own inheritance.” Stung into sudden anger, King Edward struck the intrepid prince in the face with his gauntlet, which was the signal for the cruel men around him to pierce his brave young heart with their sharp daggers. The following day Queen Margaret was brought a prisoner to King Edward, by her old enemy, Sir William Stanley, who had just revealed the terrible fate of her son to the anguished mother, with brutal coldness and abruptness. Smarting under this awful blow, Margaret invoked terrible maledictions upon the head of King Edward; and this same enemy took very good care to repeat these rash words which had escaped the agonized heart of the distracted mother to his royal master, who was so exasperated that he at first determined to put her to death; but as no Plantagenet had shed the blood of woman, he feared to do this bloody deed, and ordered her to be imprisoned in the Tower of London. The same night upon which Margaret of Anjou was placed within its gloomy walls, her husband, whom she had not met for seven long years, was dragged from his cell in the same prison and put to death. At first the imprisonment of Margaret was very rigorous; but through the intercession of King Edward’s wife, Elizabeth of Woodville, who had been one of the ladies in waiting at Queen Margaret’s court, the poor heart-broken sufferer was released from such strict confinement; and at length her impoverished father came to her partial relief, and by sacrificing his inheritance of Provence, he succeeded in securing her release from imprisonment, she having signed a formal renunciation of all the rights her marriage in England had given her.

But this poor faded Red Rose had one more trial to bear. A dry leprosy now attacked the once beautiful Margaret of Anjou, and transformed the lovely “Marguerite,” whose beauty had been celebrated throughout the world, into a loathsome spectacle of horror. For nearly six years she endured a living death in the castles provided by her father for her retreat, until, in 1482, the welcome summons came. She was buried in the cathedral of Angers, and her only memorial was her portrait on glass in a window of the cathedral, which had been painted by her father twenty years before. Maria Louisa, the second wife of Napoleon I., possessed the breviary once owned by Margaret of Anjou: in it was written, “Vanite des vanites, tout la vanite!” Surely a fitting epitaph for the once beautiful, powerful, lovely Margaret of Anjou, queen of England; but alas! afterwards, the fallen, faded, hapless Red Rose of English history.

Among the warm partisans of the Lancastrian cause, was John Grey, afterwards Lord Ferrers, whose wife was the beautiful Elizabeth Woodville, maid of honor at the court of Queen Margaret.

Lord Ferrers lost his life in the War of the Roses; and his widow, the beautiful Lady Grey, afterwards married Edward, son of the renowned Duke of York, the champion of the White Rose.

By this marriage of the Roses, which occurred after Edward had become king of England, as Edward IV., this famous War of the Roses ended in a match of hearts.

CATHARINE OF ARAGON.

A.D. 1485-1536

“By my troth,I would not be a queen!Verily,I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born,And range with humble livers in content,Than to be perk’d up in a glistering grief,And wear a golden sorrow.” – Shakespeare.

BEAUTIFUL Granada rose like an enchanted city in the midst of the blooming plain, where flourished the citron and the pomegranate, the latter of which gave to the city its euphonious name. Olive groves and vineyards clustered around it and fig-trees hung heavy with their purplish fruit; while orange and lemon groves bent ’neath the rich burden of golden spheres of luscious nectar, intermingled with the snowy blossoms which, half hidden amongst the dark green foliage, filled the air with such exquisite perfume as to make one dream of the ambrosial fields of Paradise. To the north, towered mountains whose lofty, snow-crowned summits seemed to pierce the blue heavens above, and other ranges guarded it on the east and south, while the blue waters of the Mediterranean washed its western shores, and brought trade and commerce to this fair Eden of sunny Spain.

And as picturesque as was this lovely setting, equally picturesque was the quaint and fascinating city, with its gorgeous Alhambra, whose shining turrets loomed high above the surrounding buildings and its spacious courts, adorned by graceful columns and spanned by arched ceilings glowing with varied colors and ornate with quaint design, while through its many corridors Moorish cavaliers and dark-eyed beauties, attired in their picturesque costumes, passed in a fascinating procession and lent the charm of life to this weird scene.

But war had invaded this fair realm. For long years it had been besieged by hostile hosts, who strove to drive the Moors from their enchanting dominions. Already the city of Santa Fé had arisen, as though by magic, around the besieged city of Granada, and Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain at length entered the gorgeous Alhambra as conquerors, and the last sigh of the departing Moors echoed amid the fragrant orange groves, in a ghostly wail of hopeless despair.

It was on the 6th of January, 1492, that Isabella and Ferdinand made their triumphal entry into the conquered city, and the standard of the Cross and the banner of Castile were seen floating together on the lofty watch-tower of the glorious palace of the Alhambra. Upon this momentous occasion, the little Catharine of Aragon, then seven years of age, accompanied her parents and sister in the imposing procession.

This pretty Spanish princess had first opened her eyes upon this world at the small town called Alcala des Henares, while Isabella, her mother, was journeying to spend Christmas at Toledo, then the capital of Spain.

Her infant days were spent in camps of war, for the illustrious Isabella accompanied her husband Ferdinand upon all his expeditions, and by her presence and counsel inspired the Christian soldiers to those deeds of valor which gained the victory over the Moors.

It was this same Isabella of Castile, who first instituted regular military surgeons, to attend the sick in the armies and be at hand on the field of battle to care for the wounded. These surgeons were paid out of her own revenues; and she also provided spacious tents, furnished with beds and all things requisite for the sick and wounded, which were called the “Queen’s Hospital.”

Thus, to the compassionate heart of the famous Isabella of Castile, the world is indebted for the first army hospital, which institution has since proved such a blessing to mankind, in the saving of innumerable lives, and in some slight measure alleviating a part of the frightful evils of war.

After the fall of Granada, Ferdinand and Isabella took up their residence in the magnificent Alhambra, and it was in this fascinating place that the childhood of Catharine of Aragon was passed.

It was from Granada, this fairy-land of her youthful memories, that Catharine derived her device of the pomegranate. The pomegranate was the royal insignia of the Moorish kings. The motto afterwards adopted by Queen Catharine, “Not for my crown,” was also derived from the same source; for the crown of the pomegranate is worthless and is always thrown away.

What strange contrast in the two pictures portrayed in the life of Catharine by the unforeseen vicissitudes of fortune. The blooming maiden, filled with ecstatic pleasure by the alluring fascinations of the matchless scenes around her, now wandering with childish curiosity through the glowing courts of the glorious Alhambra, or enjoying the sylvan retreats amidst the orange and citron groves, or seeking the cool shade of the pomegranate trees, presents a very different picture to the neglected queen of England, cruelly banished by her atrocious husband, to die in loneliness and even penury.

When the Princess Catharine was nine years of age, she was betrothed to Arthur, Prince of Wales, eldest son of Elizabeth of York and Henry VII.

The correspondence of these youthful lovers was carried on in Latin, that they might improve themselves in that language.

In 1501, Catharine embarked with her Spanish governess and four young court ladies, attended by a train of lords and ecclesiastics, to go to England to be united in marriage to Prince Arthur. The marriage was celebrated Nov. 14, 1501.

Catharine’s bridal costume was a great surprise to the English ladies. The Spanish princess and her ladies had previously astonished the English populace, when, according to an English fashion, they made their equestrian public entry into London. The large round hats worn by Catharine and her donnas upon that occasion had created much comment.

“At her bridal Catharine wore upon her head a coif of white silk, with a scarf bordered with gold and pearls and precious stones, five inches and a half broad, which veiled the greater part of her visage and her person. This was the celebrated Spanish mantilla. Her gown was very large; both the sleeves and also the body had many plaits, and beneath the waist certain round hoops, bearing out the gown from the waist downward. Such was the first arrival of the farthingale in England, revived at times as hoop petticoats and crinolines. In the elaborate pageantry the princely pair were very prettily allegorized, she as ‘My Lady Hesperus,’ and he as ‘The Star Arcturus,’ from which the Celtic name of Arthur is derived.”

The old chronicles thus describe the gorgeous marriage ceremony: —

“Within the church of St. Paul’s was erected a platform or stage, six feet high, and extending from the west door to the uppermost step of the choir; in the middle of this platform was a high stand like a mountain, which was ascended on every side with steps covered over with red worsted.

“Against this mountain on the north side was ordained a standing for the king and his friends; and upon the south side was erected another standing, which was occupied by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London.

“Then, upon the fourteenth of November, being Sunday, Prince Arthur and the Infanta Catharine, both clad in white satin, ascended the mountain, one on the north and the other on the south side, and were there married by the Archbishop of Canterbury, assisted by nineteen bishops and abbots. The king and the queen and the king’s mother stood in the place aforenamed, where they heard and beheld the solemnization, which, being finished, the archbishop and bishops took their way from the mountain across the platform, which was covered under foot with blue ray cloth, into the choir, and so to the high altar. The prelates were followed by the bride and bridegroom. The Princess Cecily bore the train of the bride, and after her followed one hundred ladies and gentlewomen in right costly apparel. Then the Mayor, in a gown of crimson velvet, and his brethren in scarlet, went and sat in the choir whilst mass was said. The Archbishop of York sat in the dean’s place and made the chief offering, and after him came the Duke of Buckingham. The mass being finished, Arthur publicly dowered his bride, at the church door, with one-third of his income as Prince of Wales; and afterwards the prince and princess were conducted in grand procession out of church into the bishop’s palace, where a grand feast was prepared, to which the Lord Mayor and Aldermen were invited.

“The city functionaries were served with plate valued at one thousand two hundred pounds, but the plate off which the princess dined was of solid gold, ornamented with pearls and precious stones, and worth twenty thousand pounds.

“It was wonderful to behold the costly apparel and the massive chains of gold worn on that day. Sir Thomas Brandon, the master of the king’s horse, wore a gold chain, valued at one thousand four hundred pounds. Rivers, the master of the king’s hawks, wore a chain worth one thousand pounds, and many of the other chains worn were worth from two to three hundred pounds each. The Duke of Buckingham wore a robe of the most beautiful needle-work, wrought upon cloth of gold tissue and furred with sable, worth one thousand five hundred pounds; and Sir Nicholas Vaux wore a gown of purple velvet, so thickly ornamented with pieces of massive gold that the gold alone, independent of the silk and fur, was worth one thousand pounds.”

In honor of this marriage, tournaments, and festivals, and most gorgeous pageants, followed by banquets and grand balls, were celebrated for many days.

But clouds soon gathered around Catharine. In about four months after the marriage, while Prince Arthur and Catharine were residing at the Castle of Ludlow, in Wales, the young prince sickened and died; and the poor young princess was left a widow in a strange land. Catharine was now escorted back to London, where she was received with kindness by Queen Elizabeth, her mother-in-law. But the kind queen died in two years and Catharine’s troubles began regarding her great dower. Her father, Ferdinand of Spain, had promised to give as a marriage settlement two hundred thousand crowns. Only one instalment of this had been paid, and until the whole amount was received, Henry VII. refused to allow his daughter-in-law the revenue Arthur had given her as her marriage gift.

And now began intrigues and quarrels over this poor little widow of sixteen. First King Henry VII. determined to marry her himself, but this proposal Catharine would not accept. Next it was proposed to marry her to the king’s son Henry, now become Prince of Wales. As this proposition was not refused by Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, the helpless young stranger was obliged to submit, and as her father would not pay her dower until the matter was settled, and as her father-in-law would not allow her the revenue from her late young husband, the poor little princess was reduced to great extremities. She needed clothes, she had no means of paying her servants, and neither king seemed to have pity upon her. Her mother, Isabella of Spain, sympathized deeply with the sorrows of her child, but she was now dying and could do little to help her.

At length it was decided that Catharine, now nineteen years of age, should be betrothed to Henry, who was then fourteen. But before this marriage was consummated, Isabella of Spain had breathed her last. Well for her mother-heart that she did not know the terrible trials in store for her beloved child, consequent upon this unfortunate marriage!

The death of King Henry VII. in 1509, prevented all display upon the occasion of this second marriage of Catharine of Aragon, which occurred at Greenwich Palace, June 11, 1509, just three months after the death of Henry VII. From various records it is evident that Henry VIII. loved his wife Catharine quite devotedly at this time. In his letter to his bride’s father he wrote, “that if Catharine and he were still free, he would choose her for his wife before all other women.”

The long-disputed marriage portion was now paid by Ferdinand of Spain, and Queen Catharine, in writing to him, tells of her joy in at last being able to pay her ladies their salaries which had been so long due. In 1510, a prince was born, but he lived but a few days, much to the sorrow of King Henry and Queen Catharine. Another baby prince also died before the birth of the Princess Mary, in 1516.

“The reign of Henry VIII. is characterized by three great movements, which have all left a profound impression upon the destinies of England: the religious reform; the establishment of the absolute power of the crown in principle and often in practice; the social and even political progress of the nation, notwithstanding great outbursts of tyranny on the part of the government, and of servility on the part of the people. The history of this reign is naturally divided into two periods: Henry VIII. under the influence of Wolsey, his favorite and soon his prime minister; Henry VIII. alone, after the disgrace and death of Wolsey.”

Of course, regarding this political aspect of this epoch in history, we can make little or no mention in this short sketch of Catharine of Aragon.

Wolsey, “the Ipswich butcher’s son, the politician priest,” became the chief favorite of Henry and Catharine, although, after he had been the means of securing the execution of the queen’s friend, Buckingham, Catharine was opposed to him.

We must not pass over the meeting of the French and English sovereigns upon the famous “Field of the Cloth of Gold.” This occurred in 1520, at Ardres, a small town near Calais. A very magnificently decorated palace had been prepared for the English king. It was built of wood, and adorned with gigantic figures, representing savages armed with spears and arrows, bearing Henry’s device, “Cui adhaereo praestat” (He whom I support prevails).

Fountains of red and white wine played constantly before this sumptuous abode of the English king, which was adorned with costly tapestries and magnificent gold and silver plate.

A gorgeous tent of cloth of gold had been prepared for the meeting of the two sovereigns. It was ornamented with blue velvet studded with stars, fastened with silken cords mixed with Cyprian gold. Into this glistening pavilion the two kings walked arm in arm; and thereupon began a round of feasting, drinking, music, dancing, and amusements, which lasted a fortnight. The extravagant splendor of this occasion has become renowned; and, in the midst of all these licentious revelries, Cardinal Wolsey celebrated high mass with imposing pageantry. It is recorded that it took years for the estates of many a nobleman to recover from the loans contracted to make a good appearance upon this famous Field of the Cloth of Gold.

In 1521 Henry VIII. determined to defend the Catholic faith against the attacks of Martin Luther. King Henry had no other weapon to use against the monk except his pen. Whereupon Henry published “A Defence of the Seven Sacraments against Martin Luther.” This was gorgeously bound, and presented with much ceremony to Pope Leo X. Thereupon the royal author received the title, from the holy father, of “Defender of the Faith,” of which title the royal hypocrite made strange use afterwards. Meanwhile, the haughty Cardinal Wolsey became more arrogant and overbearing. Having the royal ear, even princes and nobles fawned upon him in menial attentions, and high titled lords served the pompous cardinal on their knees, and deemed it a privilege to do his august bidding. But Wolsey’s fall was soon to come, and would be as direful as his power was now ascendant.

In 1522 the beautiful Anne Boleyn was recalled from France to England, and became one of Queen Catharine’s maids of honor. From this time troubles fell thick and heavy upon the poor queen, who was herself a faithful wife and loving mother, and was, moreover, self-denying and devout. And, strange as it may appear, up to this time, such had been the life of King Henry and Queen Catharine that they had become famous as a pattern couple; and the celebrated Erasmus had said of them: “What household is there, among the subjects of their realms, that can offer an example of such united wedlock? Where can a wife be found better matched with the best of husbands?”

We can hardly imagine the atrocious Henry VIII. ever to have been worthy of such commendation. After being married for seventeen years to his devoted Catharine, this prince of hypocrites is all at once troubled with most grievous qualms of conscience. For seven years he had been flirting with the pretty Anne Boleyn; even from the momentous time when he had noticed her dancing at the festivals attending the celebrated occasion of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. But not until 1527 did this conscience-troubled king declare publicly his very serious doubts as to the validity of his marriage with Catharine, who had been previously married to his elder brother Arthur. His pretended scruples were now confided to Cardinal Wolsey, who advised the king to sue for a divorce. This welcome advice the royal hypocrite most sanctimoniously declared to be most bitter for him to follow, but nevertheless, for his conscience’ sake, he was ready to make this enormous sacrifice.

The famous divorce court at Blackfriars was not held until June 18, 1529. But the conscience-stricken, atrocious dissembler meanwhile used his utmost influence in church and state to force priests and people to confirm his royal pretended scruples; and earls, bishops, cardinals, and popes, were called upon to confirm and applaud his most holy zeal, in thus sacrificing his supposed heart’s ease for the ease of his terribly burdened conscience. Meanwhile, the poor, neglected, faithful wife was openly and shamelessly discarded for the smiles of the new beauty, who had ensnared the fancy of this most atrocious of religious humbugs.

To allay somewhat the fretful anxieties consequent upon the long delay required to bring right-minded men to second his infamous designs, the royal author found solace in his literary occupations, hurling anathemas against the undaunted Luther, ostensibly in defence of that Church whose Pope he wished to influence in favor of his own guilty schemes; but soon this apparently zealous defender of the Romish Church was uncloaked, and he defied even the Pope himself, who dared to denounce his infamous divorce.

We cannot give in detail these stirring but disgraceful scenes. Poor Catharine, a stranger in a strange land, having lost both father and mother, had none to defend her against the calumnies which her inhuman husband sought to fasten upon her, but which her blameless life rendered utterly harmless.

King Henry VIII. had taken very good care to make very specious excuses for the divorce. As six children had been born and none had lived beyond infancy, except the Princess Mary, he declared that he found proof of the wrath of God in these bereavements, because he had married his brother’s widow. And this prince of dissemblers declared in a great meeting of his nobles, councillors, and judges, whom he had assembled in the great chamber of his palace at Bridewell, that, “As touching the queen, if it be adjudged by the law of God that she is my lawful wife, there was never anything more acceptable to me in my life, both for the discharge of my conscience and also for her sake; for I assure you all that, apart from her noble parentage, she is a woman of great virtue, gentleness, and humility. Of all good qualities appertaining to nobility, she is without comparison; and if I were to marry again, presuming the marriage to be good, I would choose her before all other women.” And yet this same ostentatious pattern of perfection and hypocritical religious cant afterwards beheaded the illustrious Sir Thomas More, because he would not sanction the infamous repudiation of the faithful Catharine. And this same pretended Defender of the Church, even though the Pope was hurling from the Vatican his spiritual thunders of excommunication for the sin of renouncing the devoted and blameless Queen Catharine, defiantly married Anne Boleyn, even before the divorce had been fully consummated.