Bastard Prince (26 page)

Nothing could be taken for granted. If Norfolk was a powerful ally he was also something of a liability. Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, was not the only English nobleman who would not welcome a grandson of the Duke of Norfolk on the throne, especially when he might feel that that his own daughters, from his marriage to Henry's sister, also had a claim. Then there was the question of how the news might be received abroad. Even if Mary would agree to step aside the country still had to look nervously to the possible reaction of Charles V or even the ambitions of Henry's nephew, James V of Scotland, who, legal niceties aside, might be able to rally French support to back his claim. Even so, if Henry were to name Richmond as heir-apparent, who knew how the picture might change before Henry actually died?

The 1536 Succession Act did little to clarify the king's intentions. For the first time it did not confine the succession to the legitimate line. Instead Henry was granted the authority to designate whomever he liked as his successor, either by letters patent or by his last will ‘at your only pleasure'. What the act did not do was give the remotest hint of whom Henry had in mind. Rather it recited the dangers of designating an heir apparent:

There were dire warnings should any of Henry's possible heirs usurp the rights of any of the others. To attempt to do so would forfeit their claim to the throne and to ensure obedience the grounds and punishments for treason were also increased.

The message was clear. The decision was the king's alone and he would make his choice in due course. The Act of Succession went some way to calm the mood of speculation and debate that had occupied recent months. To the great comfort and relief of the realm it also put in place a legal framework which would allow Henry to designate a successor on the grounds of their suitability, rather than be constricted by the fallout of his matrimonial difficulties. Yet it is difficult to escape the feeling that Henry had been persuaded to this course of action by the anxious lobbying of his courtiers. For his part, as long as he had breath in his body and the leisure to wait, Henry VIII seems to have had no intention of relinquishing his long held conviction that God would grant him a prince.

While the act allowed the king to name Richmond as his heir, it was not exactly a statement of intent. It also recited the traditional formula, which ensured that any sons born to Henry and Jane were first in line for the succession. Even more tellingly, if there were no sons then the crown would pass ‘to the issue female between your Majesty and your said most dear and entirely beloved Wife Queen Jane begotten'. As a further reassurance to everyone (with the possible exception of the queen) there was similar provision for legitimate issue by any subsequent wives.

Even so, many observers were convinced that Henry was on the brink of naming his son as heir apparent. The Imperial ambassador, Chapuys, reported that Richmond ‘was certainly intended to be his heir and successor.' He was not alone in his conviction. Others also believed:

Their confidence should not obscure how far removed from the throne Richmond remained in 1536. Henry would not easily abandon his dreams of a legitimate male heir. Also, he was no longer confined to a straight choice between his three children. Henry Courtenay, Marquess of Exeter, or any other suitable noble might now be chosen over the king's bastard son. Yet for the first time there was also no reason why Henry should not name Richmond as his successor – if he wished to do so.

The idea that Henry was about to name Richmond as heir apparent, only to receive the devastating news of his illness and death, is dramatic but untenable. With the benefit of hindsight, on 23 July 1536 Chapuys confidently declared that ‘had he not fallen ill' Henry was planning to have his son proclaimed as his successor by parliament. Yet on 8 June 1536, Richmond was still well enough to appear in public for the opening session of parliament without his health provoking any cause for concern. Richmond had a very public role in the proceedings – being placed just ahead of his father as he carried the king's ‘cap of maintenance'. He would have attracted a good deal of attention as the lords went in solemn procession from York Place to Westminster. Then there was a mass and a speech before the lords ‘put off their robes and so rode to York Place to dinner'. Yet through the whole of that business no one thought to mention that Richmond was looking a bit peaky.

The idea that Richmond's health had been in visible decline for some time is based on the account of the chronicler, Charles Wriothesley who said ‘he pined inwardly in his body long before he died'. Yet Richmond's presence about the court, not to mention the plan to send him up to Scotland, does not indicate that his health was failing. In all outward respects it was business as usual. In April 1536, the Venetian ambassador had to calm the fears of his French counterpart that the project to give Richmond the Duchy of Milan had been revived. In May he was appointed chamberlain of Chester and North Wales, an office formerly held by one of Anne Boleyn's supposed lovers, Henry Norris. A few days later he was among those to whom Charles V addressed letters of credence for his new ambassador.

Far from contemplating his own demise, Richmond was eager to secure another one of Norris's offices for his servant Giles Forster. Even before Norris was condemned, Richmond wrote to the Bishop of Lincoln about ‘the trouble and business that Mr Norris is now in, the which I think is not to you unknown' and blithely requested the office on the grounds that ‘it is presupposed with many men that there is no way but one with him'. Unfortunately for Richmond, the good bishop was of much the same mind regarding Norris's fate and had already offered that office, the stewardship of Banbury, to Thomas Cromwell. Richmond was more successful after the execution of Anne's brother, Lord Rochford, when he obtained the offices of Warden of the Cinque Ports and Constable of Dover Castle.

If Henry had truly intended to proclaim Richmond as his heir during this session of parliament it might have been prudent to give some tangible hint, to test possible reactions if nothing else. However, when the Lord Chancellor, Lord Audley, gave his opening speech, he concentrated instead on the idea of legitimate heirs and stressed Jane's fertility. In truth there was no reason to make any such announcement. The act itself was all the insurance policy the king needed and he had no intention of dying just yet. In the meantime, why invite difficulties by declaring your hand? With Richmond present and apparently in good health, there is no reason to think this was a last minute change of plan or indeed that Henry had any idea that Richmond would not live long.

The first report of his illness did not leak out until a month later on 8 July 1536,
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when, predictably, Chapuys was the first with the news:

Although we do not have the lurid reports of swollen limbs, scabby skin and foul stenches that accompanied the death throes of Edward VI, contemporary observers were convinced that the young king's illness was ‘the same as that which killed the late Earl [sic] of Richmond'. Modern medical opinion has suggested that this was not actually tuberculosis but ‘a suppurating pulmonary infection', which without recourse to antibiotics led to fatal complications.
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At the time of his death Richmond was at St James's Palace in London. Later to become the residence of several royal princes, including his half-brother, Prince Edward, this has prompted certain authors to assume it was also earmarked as a residence for the duke. In fact, in July 1536 Richmond's household was at Tonge in Kent, where it had been based since October 1535. The accounts of his kitchen show the ducal household moving from Lewes to Sheffield, through Godstone to Tonge from where Richmond and several carts of his belongings had come to London in appropriate ducal state for the parliament. Until quite recently he had been lodging with the king at court. However, when Henry moved on to Sittingbourne in Kent, Richmond was obviously not well enough to accompany him and remained behind in London. Yet the fact that he died at St James's is not evidence that he was ever intended to live there.

As his sickness became apparent and his condition grew more serious, it would clearly have been unwise for Richmond to remain with the court. Aside from the obvious risk of infection, there was also the danger of rumour and gossip. The anxiety of recent months would not be calmed by the news that the king's only son was seriously ill. However, to expose Richmond to a journey of any length could also be dangerous. St James's Palace was close at hand – in addition, the transformation of the former monastic hospital into a royal residence was not yet fully complete – Richmond and his entourage could be installed there without attracting a great deal of attention. Perhaps the peace and quiet of the former religious house would work its own miracle.

Instead, the duke now fell into a rapid decline. By 18 July 1536, news of his illness was more widely known. When John Husse wrote to Viscount Lisle, ‘My Lord of Richmond [is] very sick. Jesu be his comfort,' he clearly believed the situation was quite serious. His condition now quickly deteriorated and, if anything, the opinion of his doctors was to prove optimistic. On 23 July 1536, Chapuys sent off a quickly scribbled note, ‘I have just this moment heard that the Duke of Richmond died this morning, which is not a bad thing for the interests of the Princess'. The date of his demise has also been recorded as the 24th or even the 25th, but Chapuys is unlikely to have been mistaken. Once more Henry was blessed with nothing but daughters and some unfortunate messenger was dispatched to inform the King of England that his only son was dead.

Henry's immediate reaction to the news has not survived, although judging from subsequent events it seems to have been close to the emotional hysteria produced by Anne Boleyn's second miscarriage. Beside himself with grief, all of Henry's familiar fears and anxieties resurfaced. If Jane had been pregnant he might have had the courage to take the news more stoically. As it was, the timing could not have been worse. For eight days nothing happened. Henry's first instinct seems to have been that the news should be kept quiet and the body quickly disposed of. The king cannot rationally have expected to keep the news of his son's death a secret for very long, but perhaps he was not in any condition to be rational. According to his own account, Thomas Howard now took the initiative and asked that he might be allowed to take his son-in-law to be buried among his ancestors in Norfolk.

This, at least, was some distance from the capital. Henry agreed to his request, but there were certain conditions. Norfolk was afterwards plain about what had been expected. ‘The King's pleasure was that his body should be conveyed secretly in a closed cart'. Richmond's corpse was wrapped in lead according to the custom of the time and placed in a simple wooden coffin, which was covered over with straw. In stark contrast to his magnificent progress northwards in 1525; there would be no impressive entourage, no accompanying procession. The only attendants allowed were Richmond's governor, George Cotton, and his brother Richard, who served as comptroller of the duke's household. Even they were not allowed to wear Richmond's livery. Norfolk afterwards admitted that there was no closed cart provided, nor in fact had anything been done with any great secrecy. Within days Chapuys was relaying all the details, even down to the ‘two persons clothed in green who followed at a distance'. Still, it can hardly have seemed to matter. Nothing could change the fact that Richmond was dead.

The Duke of Richmond was originally buried in the Howard family vault at Thetford Priory in Norfolk. If the superstition that a whole host of mourners was required to ensure that the departed was wrested from the clutches of the devil was correct, Richmond did not fair terribly well. At his death one of the memorandums for his household had asked what lengths of black cloth would be given to his various officers, counsellors and servants to wear at his funeral. In the event, it does not seem that any were needed. Norfolk was there and Surrey also came to honour his friend. Four of Richmond's geldings were delivered to Mary, Duchess of Richmond, to bring her home for the ceremony, but George and Richard Cotton seem to be the only ones of Richmond's servants who were allowed to be present.

The Prince Henry born in 1511 to Henry VIII and Katharine, who lived for just over seven weeks, had been accorded a solemn funeral. In a blaze of torchlight, a whole host of English nobility and 160 poor men, dressed in black cloth provided at the king's expense, walked in solemn observance alongside the tiny coffin and the choristers of the Chapel Royal sang him to his rest. However, the seventeen-year-old Duke of Richmond departed this world with the minimum of ceremony. Yet when Norfolk heard reports that the king was displeased with the manner of Richmond's funeral, he initially assumed it had not been done secretly enough.

He had good reason to be confused. In the face of Henry's grief and panic-stricken desire to sweep the whole matter under the carpet, Norfolk had apparently done what he could to provide Richmond with some semblance of a decent funeral. Now that the king had recovered from his initial shock and dismay, Norfolk found he was being berated for disposing of the body without the pomp and ceremony usually accorded to a duke at his funeral. As Henry began to regret his impetuous decision, Norfolk became a convenient scapegoat. Norfolk plaintively requested ‘I trust the King will not blame me undeservedly'. However, while he was mourning in discreet retirement in the country, he was not well-placed to defend himself at court. It was all too easy for enemies like Thomas Cromwell to encourage the king's dissatisfaction and convince Henry that the whole mess was in fact Norfolk's doing. The duke had good reason to be upset, especially since he had been left to bear all the expense.