The Wars of the Roses - Alison Weir [57]
He had a strong sense of fairness and, wishing to see justice available to all, ensured that he was accessible to his subjects: ‘Upon none would he wittingly inflict any injustice,’ wrote Blacman. Once, Henry was riding through London when he saw a blackened object on a spike above Cripplegate and asked what it was. Told it was a quarter of a traitor who had been false to him, he commanded that it be removed, saying, ‘I will not have any Christian man so cruelly handled for my sake.’ Yet he showed no such qualms when he voluntarily witnessed the massed hangings of thirty-four rebels in 1450.
In general, though, Henry was a kindly soul, gentle and generous, honest and well-intentioned, and too humble and virtuous by far successfully to rule a country sliding slowly but surely into political anarchy. He never lost his temper, looked after his servants well, and was not interested in acquiring riches, his prime concern being the salvation of his soul. When a certain nobleman presented him with an expensive ornament of gold filigree, he hardly glanced at it, much to the donor’s chagrin. Indeed, Henry’s qualities were manifold, but they were not the qualities required of a sovereign.
There was nothing in Henry’s early years to indicate that he might be mentally unstable, but during early manhood he suffered from spells of excessive melancholy and depression which hindered his ability to lead a normal life. In the 1440s he was described as being ‘not steadfast of wit as other kings have been’, and prior to 1453, the year in which he suffered his first really incapacitating mental illness, several of his subjects were hauled before the justices, charged with having referred to the King as a lunatic, or even as being childish, for which they were punished. Given the state of England at that time, they might have been forgiven for believing such things. Henry VI was no lunatic, but we must conclude that his mental health was never very stable.
Henry’s piety is legendary, yet the question now has to be asked: was he as pious as later writers, who supported Henry VII’s bid to have him canonised as a Lancastrian saint, would have it? The answer is probably not.
There is no doubt that Henry VI was a religious man and that his personal piety was genuine. Blacman says that, at the principal feasts of the year, ‘but especially at those when of custom he wore his crown’, he wore next to his skin a rough hair shirt. He was ‘a diligent and sincere worshipper of God, more given to devout prayer than to handling worldly things or practising vain sports or pursuits. These he despised as trifles.’ He feared God and avoided evil. He would not transact any business on Sundays or holy days, nor would he allow his courtiers to speak during services, bring their hawks into church, or wear their swords or daggers there, and he would remain on his knees throughout the service in perfect silence, his head bowed. When going about his daily duties he was constantly engaged in meditation and prayer, withdrawn into a world of his own to which he could retreat from the harsh realities of political life.
It is true that he was rather more than conventionally pious, but then so were many people at that time. Because he was the King, his piety attracted attention. By the time he was twenty-five he was famed for it throughout Europe, and Pope Eugenius IV, impressed by the King’s charities and care for the poor, awarded him the highest papal honour, the Golden Rose. There was, nevertheless, a more cynical reason for this award – Eugenius wanted money from the Church in England and hoped Henry would assist him in obtaining it.
The King’s piety generally endeared him to his subjects, although there were those who were privately of the opinion that he would make a better monk than a king. He was forever exhorting his magnates to prayer, and, knowing that it was in their interests to do so, they acquiesced, for Henry could be very generous to those he favoured.
Like his father, another pious man, Henry VI was merciless