Bastard Prince (5 page)

Although the following year saw the appointment of Elizabeth's great-uncle, Sir Edward Darrell, as the queen's vice-chamberlain, this probably had little bearing on his great-niece's relationship with the king. Even if he had wanted to use his position to encourage Henry's attentions in Elizabeth's direction, events in 1517 were not conducive to the onset of an affair. From July until December the capital was hit by an outbreak of the sweating sickness. An infectious and usually deadly disease, the outbreak abruptly curtailed the accustomed round of gaiety and society at court. At first Henry merely removed into the country, leaving orders that no one who had been in contact with the disease should approach him. By September he had grown sufficiently alarmed at the spreading plague to decamp from the body of the court, taking only the queen and a few attendants to a remote location. By December the worst of the outbreak was past but, even so, Christmas was kept very quietly that year in order to minimise any risk of infection.

If Henry needed anyone to console him in his time of peril it seems he looked to Katherine. Hopes that the queen might be with child in August 1517 proved unfounded, but Henry clearly persevered, for by April 1518 she was pregnant again. It is a sad irony that Katherine's happy condition was probably the impetus for her husband to seek solace in the arms of Elizabeth Blount. Henry had become increasingly solicitous of his wife's precious pregnancies, advising Wolsey that ‘about this time is partly of her dangerous times, and because of that I would remove her as little as I may now'. Having reached a respectable eighteen years old, Elizabeth was now a far more viable candidate for one of those pleasant interludes Henry seems to have indulged in when Katherine was pregnant. Given that Fitzroy was six years old in June 1525, it is quite feasible that he was conceived at some point between April and November 1518.

All the evidence suggests this was not an affair of any duration, but a short-term liaison with an unexpectedly pleasant result. That Mary Boleyn was apparently the king's mistress for some time without such a tell-tale result is not necessarily a reflection on Henry's abilities. He was perfectly capable of making Katherine pregnant sooner or later, the real danger came in the latter months as she struggled to carry the child to term. If Mary had miscarried the king's child, Henry may not have been so convinced that her sister would present him with a son. Mary's two children, Henry (generally thought to have been born in 1524) and Catherine (usually supposed to have been born in 1526) are evidence that she was not barren. The fact that they were not followed by a brood of offspring, the ‘every year a child' that was the lament of many hard pressed families, tends to suggest another solution. Indeed, if Mary had ever been anywhere near as sexually active as her reputation suggests, she must surely have successfully practised some form of contraception.

Although this was frowned upon by the Church, single people did seek to avoid unwanted pregnancy and even married couples might take steps to space their families as Mary seems to have done. Remedies to promote fertility, using certain times in a woman's cycle and certain sexual positions, were common. It took little imagination to realise that the inversion of these ideas might hinder conception. Though moralists argued against the ‘sin of Onan' (who in Genesis cast his seed on the ground), the practice of coitus interruptus, was well known. Certainly, Catherine Howard was well aware that there were ways and means that ‘a woman might meddle with a man and yet conceive no child unless she would her-self'. Since Mary was actually supposed to be a respectable married woman during her affair with Henry she may have been reluctant to present her new husband with a bastard, even if it was the king's.

It is doubtful that Elizabeth had managed to spend the last six years at court without broadening her education a little, but rather than being an indication of promiscuity, the fact that she bore the king a son actually strengthens the argument that she was not accustomed to sleeping around. If she had any other suitors there is no record of them. Such things are, of course, not easy to ascertain. Jane Seymour was twenty-seven and in all likelihood a spotless virgin when she married Henry VIII. Catherine Howard at nineteen had amassed considerably more experience. Yet given the lack of evidence to the contrary, perhaps Elizabeth Blount deserves to be given the benefit of the doubt.

It is, of course, impossible to determine exactly when Elizabeth fell pregnant. Even she may have remained in doubt of her condition for anything up to four months. Sixteenth-century diet and lifestyle meant that medical conditions such as amenorrhoea (abnormal absence of menstruation) were not uncommon. Therefore the absence of a period was not in itself a reliable guide to pregnancy. Most women would wait until they felt the baby stir in the womb before they could be sure they were actually with child, rather than suffering from some illness or disease.

On 3 October 1518 Elizabeth participated in the celebrations organised by Wolsey at York Place to mark the betrothal of the two-year-old Princess Mary to the Dauphin of France. On this occasion she was one of a large party of more than thirty performers, including the king, who donned their masquing hoods to entertain the assembled company. The ladies wore an elaborate uniform of green satin covered with cloth of gold and decorated with braids of damask gold and white gold. As usual, ‘after they had danced they put off their visors and then they were all known'. Perhaps as a concession to the political importance of this event the couple did not dance together. Elizabeth's escort was Francis Bryan, one of several fashionable young gentlemen of the court, while the king danced with his sister.
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On such a sensitive diplomatic occasion it is unthinkable that Henry would have openly courted scandal and allowed Elizabeth to appear if she were visibly pregnant. Certainly the eagle-eyed court observers made no comment. This means that she is unlikely to have conceived before June 1518. Assuming that the pregnancy ran to full term this would have led to a birth in February 1519. Since Fitzroy was six in June 1525 he must have been born before June 1519, which would place conception, at the very latest, in October 1518. Given Henry's track record the odds are against a single brief encounter. The experience of Henry's wives also suggests that the birth was more likely to be premature than overdue. This was to be Elizabeth's last recorded appearance at court and it is entirely possible that she was already carrying the king's child.

Certainly, Elizabeth could not have remained long at court once her condition was generally known. Katherine's own pregnancy ended in disappointment on 9 November 1518 when she was delivered of a girl, who was either stillborn or died shortly after birth. In contrast, Elizabeth's baby, born at the Priory of St Lawrence at Blackmore, near Chelmsford in Essex, where Elizabeth probably spent the remainder of her pregnancy, was a living, healthy son.

The arrangements for Elizabeth's confinement were handled by the king's chief minister, Thomas Wolsey. Since his own mistress presented him with two illegitimate children, he was an ideal choice to handle such a matter with discretion.
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Elizabeth was not quartered with the monks, but was allowed the use of a nearby manor-house, which served as a residence for the prior, Thomas Goodwyn. Perhaps because of her presence there, it has acquired a reputation under the name of ‘Jericho' as the place where Henry VIII conducted his illicit relationships. However, the choice was probably designed to stem the flow of gossip that might have wound its way back to the court had Elizabeth been placed in a nunnery peopled by the daughters of noblemen. After all, to display with pride a healthy male child was one thing, but another failed pregnancy need not be advertised. Since Henry spent part of the summer of 1519 in Essex, this was perhaps another factor in the selection of the priory.

It was the custom for a woman to withdraw for about a month before her anticipated delivery, in order to prepare for her lying-in. During this time she would be attended only by women, not to re-emerge into male society until she was churched after the birth. Elizabeth probably had to spend rather longer than this in discreet retirement at Blackmore. However, it does seem her child arrived earlier than planned. Wolsey was out of London from 9 June 1519. On 18 June he was back with the court at Windsor. The following day he was expected at Hampton Court. Yet not until 29 June does he reappear at a Council meeting at Westminster.
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Since 18 June was also the date chosen for Fitzroy's elevation to the peerage in 1525, it is tempting to conclude that the minister was unexpectedly waylaid by the child's birth.

The policy of discretion seems to have been successful. The infant's arrival caused no great stir. In the various diplomatic dispatches and personal correspondence of the period there is no reference to his birth. For this period in the summer of 1519 the Venetian Sebastian Giustinian actually wrote ‘since my last, nothing new has taken place, save the desired arrival of . . . my successor'. Yet there can be no doubt that the baby was Henry's child. He was given the surname Fitzroy (a patronymic also adopted by Charles II for his illegitimate issue) and Thomas Wolsey stood as his senior godfather. Lifting the infant out of the font, he diplomatically named the child, Henry, after his royal sire. The identity of his other godfather, or indeed his godmother, is not known. Despite his interest in Fitzroy's later life, it was probably not Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk, for in 1519 he was still only Earl of Surrey. If Henry VIII had looked to a Howard to be godfather to his son, the Flodden Duke was the more prestigious choice. Given the indelicacy of asking one of the ladies of the court, the godmother was perhaps one of Elizabeth's relations.

Garrett Mattingly supposes that there was some formal celebration of Fitzroy's birth which Katherine was required to endure.
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If there was, it was not recorded. However, during his time in Essex Henry would have had ample opportunity to show off his son. The king just might have been tactless enough to parade the child at the ‘sumptous banquet' given by the queen in August 1519, at her manor of Havering-atte-Bower, in honour of the French hostages. Indeed, his rivalry with Francis I may even have required it. In June 1519 Henry VIII had been invited to stand as godfather to Francis's second son (whom he modestly called Henry) and it may have been some consolation that for the first time in eight years he now had a promising son of his own to show off. Alternatively, if the child was presented at the banquet held at the king's recently refurbished residence of Newhall, this would also accommodate the myth that Henry had been revamping the property for the use of his mistress.

It is generally thought that Elizabeth's relationship with the king came to an end once she was with child. Certainly she did not resume her duties at court. Even in 1520 when almost everyone, including her grandfather Sir Thomas Blount and her great-uncle Sir Edward Darrell, were in attendance at the spectacular summit with the King of France, known as the ‘Field of Cloth of Gold', Elizabeth was not present. Speculation exists that, even prior to the début of Mary Boleyn, she had been replaced in the king's bed. Hubert S. Burke cites an Arabella Parker ‘the wife of a city merchant' as being Elizabeth's successor. This seems doubtful and is not corroborated. Although there was a Mistress Parker in the revels of March 1522, this was probably Margery Parker, who had been part of Princess Mary's household since 1516.
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Was Elizabeth so hastily put aside? In June 1542 Elizabeth's second child, a daughter, also named Elizabeth, was twenty-two years old which means she could have been conceived as early as August 1519.
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Was this child also the king's? In truth, the answer is probably not. Given Henry's desperate lack of useful issue, it seems untenable that any offspring of his, even if she were only a daughter, would have remained unacknowledged. It seems equally improbable that Henry would have let Elizabeth go if there was any chance that she might be carrying his child. Proof, perhaps, that Henry and Elizabeth did not resume their relationship after Fitzroy was born, but that Elizabeth was swiftly married off as soon as she was safely delivered of the king's son.

Elizabeth's first husband was Gilbert Tailbois, the son and heir of Sir George, Lord Tailbois of Kyme and his wife Elizabeth Gascoigne, the sister of Sir William Gascoigne of Gawthorpe. Their principal residence at Goltho in Lincolnshire had been in their possession since the fourteenth century. Gilbert's father, Sir George Tailbois, was knighted in 1497 and sat as knight of the shire in the parliament of 1509. His mother, Elizabeth, was a granddaughter of Henry, 3rd Earl of Northumberland, which gave the Tailbois' links with both the Dukes of Buckingham and Norfolk. In comparison to the Blounts they were a wealthy family. Sir Robert Tailbois' will in November 1494 liberally bestowed jewels and money, not just to the Church, or his immediate family, but to a large number of servants and retainers. His son George received ‘six bowls of silver with a covering, and a basin and a ewer of silver, and two pots of silver and two salts gilt.' In addition to their significant interests in Lincolnshire, they also had lands in Yorkshire, Northumberland, Cambridgeshire, Suffolk and Somerset.

Although his father was still living, Gilbert Tailbois had been a ward of the crown since March 1517. Sir George Tailbois had fallen ill in 1499, while he was serving as Henry VII's lieutenant of the east and middle Marches. The sickness described as the ‘land evil' apparently left him ‘somewhat enfeebled of his perfect mind and remembrance'.
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If Sir George had indeed lost his mind, then his lands and possessions (as in a minority) would be taken into the hands of the crown. Sir George was apparently sufficiently alert to be alarmed at such a possibility and it was agreed that Henry VII would forbear from exercising this privilege in return for the sum of 800 marks in cash and bonds. He may have had periods of lucidity, for in 1508 he was treated as if he was of sound mind when he was included in a bond of surety with several of his neighbours and in 1513 he was listed among those to provide service in the French war. In 1516 an inquisition held at Lincoln to investigate his state of mind apparently found Sir George to be of ‘sound mind and perfect memory.' Yet on 2 March 1517 a royal warrant granted Wolsey, Sir Robert Dymmock and others custody of his lands, on the grounds that he was a lunatic.