Mary Tudor: Renaissance Queen

New Work on the Wardrobe of Mary I

2011-12-29T13:53:00.000-08:00

Over a year ago I posted a rather simplistic account of the fashion of Mary I. Very little had been done on this subject except Alison J. Carter’s ‘Mary Tudor’s Wardrobe of Robes: Documentary and Visual Evidence of Mary’s Dress Style as Princess, 1516-1553, and as Mary I, Queen of England’, MA thesis., (Coutauld Institute of Art, 1983). Now there is a new study and one available online. It’s Hilary Doda, ‘Of Crymsen Tissue: The Construction of a Queen. Identity, Legitimacy and the Wardrobe of Mary Tudor’, MA thesis, (Dalhousie University, 2011). According to the abstract:

‘Clothing, together with other bodily adornments, is a valuable tool for communicating loyalty, identity and status. The coded messages inherent in the interplay between garments, bodies and society play a fundamental role in political culture, and the early modern era was no exception. The example of Mary I of England and her wardrobe choices demonstrates precisely how useful this tool could be. Through examination of previously-unpublished warrants, information from Privy Purse records, contemporary accounts and portraiture, this thesis analyzes the contents of and changes in Mary I’s wardrobe through the course of her adult life. By examining what the queen wore and when, patterns emerge that correlate with important parts of her political strategies. The first queen regnant, Mary used her wardrobe as a vital tool in the construction of her identity and self-representation, and as a means of navigating through the political and domestic upheavals that threatened her authority.’ (p. ix)

You read the work here.

(Image - Design for a medallion with a representation of the Trinity by Hans Holbein the Younger, c.1532-43. Pen and black ink with green and red wash. Inscribed ‘TRINITATIS GLORIA SATIABIMUR’ (‘We will be filled with the glory of the Trinity’). The British Museum.

The inclusion of marigolds may indicate that the item was intended for Princess Mary. The 1542 inventory of jewels belonging to Mary recorded that she possessed ‘a grene Tablett garneshed with golde havyng the Picture of the trinite in it’).

Review of Harry Kelsey's Philip of Spain, King of England: The Forgotten Sovereign (2011)

2011-12-22T01:55:00.000-08:00

Harry Kelsey, Philip of Spain, King of England: The Forgotten Sovereign (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2011), 288pp. £18.99.

There have been several calls for a study of Philip of Spain’s time as King of England over recent years. This is hardly surprising. Present-day scholarship of Mary’s reign is continuously growing, drawing attention to remaining overlooked areas. Interest in queenship, especially during the Tudor period, has increased. Yet examinations of Mary’s status as England’s first crowned queen regnant can only progress so far without a comprehensive study of her consort. Research into the Marian Church is also somewhat affected by the lack of work on Philip. We have come to recognise the influence some within Philip’s retinue exerted. The decision to return to Rome under Mary was certainly not the policy of these men alone, nor were they chiefly responsible for the measures implemented by the queen and her government, but the case of Friar Bartolomé Carranza alone indicates the significant role some played.1 An oversight of a more important figure – Mary’s own husband – is nonsensical. Finally, Philip was England’s first king-consort. Matilda in the twelfth-century and Jane Grey/Dudley in 1553 both were married at the time they made a bid for the throne but neither were crowned and Jane, acknowledged as queen at one point, never conferred upon her husband the title of ‘king’. Philip, on the other hand, married Mary around year after she became queen, was acknowledged as her lawful husband and thus king by all. Yet he was also refused a coronation, faced numerous limitations on his powers and had a complex relationship with his new subjects the English that continued long after Mary’s death. This is interesting stuff and should be examined in its own right.

So Philip Kelsey’s study, Philip of Spain, King of England: The Forgotten Sovereign, should be a welcomed addition to the numerous works already published on Mary’s reign. Anna Whitelock’s review on the dust-jacket promises the book to be ‘a timely attempt to place him [Philip] centre stage’. Sadly I was unable to agree.

This is not an in-depth study of Philip’s role as King of England. The book is 162 pages long (of main text) and though book-lengths aren’t everything this is clearly a rather fast-paced observation. Often the basics are covered with little attempt to divulge further. An example of this can be found in Kelsey’s account of Mary and Philip’s wedding. It amounts to just four pages and is concerned chiefly with providing a literal description, from who said what to who stood where. Kelsey does not elaborate upon the fact that contemporary accounts state Mary was placed on the right and Philip on the left during the service – a reversal of the typical positions for bride and groom – and that Mary sat on a larger throne. As Alexander Samson put it, ‘the positioning of Philip and Mary in the church was designed to underline Mary’s continuous precedence over Philip as English sovereign, even in the context of her marriage to him, by placing her in the space traditionally reserved for a king and Philip in that of a queen consort’.2 Nonetheless there were similarities in their dress leading to the theory that ‘a kind of equality between them in terms of power’ was being suggesting here.3 None of this is discussed by Kelsey. He does mention in a footnote that ‘the various descriptions of the ceremony differ considerably. I have relied largely on Figueroa, who wrote his report the next day, while events were fresh in his mind’ (fn 12, p. 188). But he does not discuss why such contradictions existed; why English chroniclers suggesting one thing, and Spanish observers claimed another.

Kelsey’s rather constrained examination of issues regarding female rule at that time is evident throughout this book. Of Mary’s speech at the Guildhall, London in 1554, he provides the rudiments, namely Mary’s arguments that prospective husband Philip would be able to defend England against its foreign enemies (pp. 68-9). What he does not mention is arguably the most famous aspect of the speech – when Mary referred to herself as ‘wedded to the realm’, with her coronation ring being her ‘spousal ring’ signifying the enduring bond between herself and the people. Mary’s own perceptions about her upcoming marriage and the impact it would have upon her powers and relationship with her subjects is overlooked. References to studies on queenship are thin on the ground. The only two of significance used are Glyn Redworth, ‘‘Matters Impertinent to Women’: Male and Female Monarchy under Philip and Mary’, English Historical Review, 112, 447 (1997), pp. 597-613 and Judith Richards, ‘Mary Tudor as ‘Sole Queen’? Gendering Tudor Monarchy’, Historical Journal, 40 (1997), pp. 895-924.

This leads to a major issue of the book. When exactly was it written? It was published only last month (November 2011), though reads as if it was completed around five or so years ago. The bibliography only confirms this. The most up-to-date studies I could find there were Eamon Duffy and David Loades (eds.), The Church of Mary Tudor (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006) and Elizabeth Svoboda, ‘All the Signs of Pregnancy Except One: A Baby’, New York Times, 5 December 2006 (an article concerning pseudocyesis – ‘phantom pregnancy’ – a condition that Mary may have experienced twice). If this was completed around, let’s say 2006-8, then Kelsey may be forgiven for his overlooking recent works. I acknowledge that the gap in writing to publication may be out of Kelsey’s hands but surely concerns were raised about the status of the book in the wake of a spate of works into Mary and her reign? And, if we accept it was written just past the mid-2000s this still doesn’t explain why Kelsey ignored several studies, some dating to the 1990s, that are of vital importance to any historian writing on Philip as King of England. I am thinking mainly here of the research of Alexander Samson. Samson’s PhD thesis, ‘The Marriage of Philip of Habsburg and Mary Tudor and Anti-Spanish Sentiment in England’ (University of London, 1999) is undoubtedly useful, especially Samson’s diligent consultation of both Spanish and English sources. If Kelsey had issues in obtaining the thesis, this does not excuse the oversight of Samson’s article, ‘Changing Places: the Marriage and Royal Entry of Philip, Prince of Austria, and Mary Tudor, July-August 1554’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, 36, 3 (2005), pp. 761-84. There was also no reference to David Loades’s work on ‘Philip II as King of England’, nor to a collection of articles on Friar Bartolomé Carranza’s role in the Marian Church which provides evidence of Spanish influence in the English church naturally initiated by Philip’s marriage to Mary.4 Why ignore research with obvious relevance to your own study?

There were some other issues I had with particular details in the book. Apologises if this all sounds too pedantic...

Kelsey implies Mary was unused to government. After all, she had never been raised to be monarch; Henry VIII’s desire to produce a son and secure a male succession is well known. But Kelsey goes too far in asserting that Mary ‘was never allowed to participate in government or to learn the intricacies of court politics’ (p. 27). Mary may have not been granted political office during her father’s lifetime, but at a young age had been created as the de facto princess of Wales and made head of a vice-regal household sent to the Welsh Marches. Yes, Mary was young and not expected to govern independently, but the Crown was still to be represented through her person and Mary was to engage in a ceremonial and symbolic role. Ultimately it was a role, however confined that may be and, ironically, it was a greater experience in matters of government than her siblings received during their father’s lifetime. I also find it incredibly hard to assert that Mary was unused to the intricacies, and intrigues, of the court. An argument for Mary striving to keep in her father’s good graces unattached to any particular faction at court can be made for 1536 onwards, but the idea she was completely unused to the whole concept of court politics (which was in essence court life) makes little sense. Mary maintained a complex network of affiliates, with court reformers and conservatives alike, and was able to call upon the assistance of many of these individuals during her bid for the throne in July 1553. But simple, she was a witness and member of the Henrician court. She may have been barred from it during her years of disgrace (c.1533-6), but the 1540s was a different story. Kelsey even contradicts himself on this point. He later writes that ‘some historians now argue that Mary deliberately created much of her reputation as an ineffective ruler in order to achieve the goals she wanted, as well as to deflect attention from herself and blame others for the more intractable problems that plagued her government’ (p. 124). Admittedly I do not think this interesting argument is a credible one, but whether we wish to believe it or not it must be acknowledged that this strategy is highly calculating and impractical to carry though by someone unfamiliar to participation in government and ‘the intricacies of court politics’. Kelsey toys with the idea that Mary was astute and manipulative and in doing so makes her appear a far more impressive political player than he implies her education allowed her to be.

Kelsey notes that Henry VIII made the infant princess Elizabeth ‘Princess of Wales, reducing Mary to the status of lady-in-waiting’ (p. 29). Mary never occupied such a role; the imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys gave raise to fears she would be made to be some servant to Elizabeth but this irrational accusation turned out to be false. Additionally Elizabeth was never officially created princess of Wales. Kelsey dates the third Act of Succession (that re-included Mary and Elizabeth into the line of succession) to 1543 when it was ratified in 1544 (p. 33). Philip’s fourth wife is named as his ‘cousin’ Anne of Austria, though she was his niece (p. 139). Kelsey mentions that Bishop Stephen Gardiner wanted Mary to marry an English candidate, including Cardinal Reginald Pole but this was not possible for by her accession Pole had received Holy Orders (p. 53). This seems highly unlikely. Gardiner’s support for Pole as archbishop of Canterbury at this time was begrudgingly given at best. Gardiner clearly favoured Edward Courtenay, earl of Devon as Mary’s prospective husband, not Pole. As one of Gardiner’s biographers put it, Gardiner was ultimately prepared to see Pole as the next archbishop for this ‘would have the added advantage of ensuring that he could not rival Courtenay as the indigenous candidate for Mary’s hand’.5 On the issue of Philip’s status upon his marriage to Mary, Kelsey notes that Charles V gave his son the kingdom of Naples and dukedom of Milan as wedding gifts (p. 77). Yet in a separate footnote, Kelsey mentions that around the same time Philip asked a herald not to mention his status as duke of Milan for he had been given it back in the early 1540s so it was ‘old stuff’ (fn 15, p. 189). He also mentions earlier on that Charles had named Philip the duke back in 1546 (p. 27). An explanation of the rather complicated history surrounding Philip’s investiture as duke of Milan is not provided for the reader. Philip had been invested with the title in 1541 and 1546 though Charles had not relinquished control over the duchy. It was transferred again to Philip in 1554 at the time of his marriage, though it was a title he regarded as having been his for some years.6 Finally, Kelsey mentions the possibility that Elizabeth I ‘suffered from Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome’, a condition whereby ‘a male child has the external features of a female but with shallow vagina and undeveloped ovaries’. Evidence for this, we are told, ‘is contradictory’ (p. 156). ‘Contradictory’ is too diplomatic a term; I would just go with ‘absurd’.

So far I have dwelled on the negatives, and in truth I believe they overwhelm the qualities of the book. However I take to heart the advice that if you do not have anything nice to say (or write) then say nothing at all! This isn’t all bad. Kelsey’s writing style is good; the reader is not faced with numerous grammatical mistakes or my pet hate – a string of very short paragraphs. Though I have issues with what he references, he does reference frequently so there is no chasing around for sources. There is a good selection of manuscripts used though often Kelsey cites from nineteenth-century transcripts like the State Papers, Foreign and Domestic, etc series. Kelsey gives due consideration to Philip’s personality and upbringing, and his romantic escapades. He cannot be accused of being either blind to Philip’s faults or neglectful of his qualities as many previous historians have been. I was especially interested in Kelsey’s observation of previous treaties between England and Spain, namely the 1542 one which promised aid to in times of conflict. Kelsey shows how this was raised during Mary and Philip’s marriage when the Spanish sought assistance in their war with the French. It is often implied that England entered war with France, and subsequently lost Calais, through the Spanish marriage alone, but the precedent for assistance between the Habsburgs and Tudors is emphasised here (pp. 118 and 129). The book does include illustrations though they are not of exceptional quality and are predominantly much later (including nineteenth-century) images. The maps are useful, but Kelsey fails to incorporate the illustrations into the text. They standalone which some may find absolutely fine, but I think if pictures are included there should be some purpose to them and not used in a decorative-like manner.

In 1570, some 12 years after Mary’s death, Philip claimed that he could give Pope Pius V ‘better information and advice on that kingdom [England], and on its affairs and people, than anyone else’.7 Clearly Philip believed he had not come away from the whole experience empty handed. His relationship with the English was at best complex but he took his role as King of England seriously and, as the quote suggests, believed himself to be an authority on that realm. This book has not proved to be a definitive or substantial account of Philip’s time as King of England. It covers briefly his involvement in the Marian Church and his influence over the direction of foreign policy, but there is no discussion of his improvements of the English navy (which of course backed fired on him in the end!), nor on his interest in another part of Mary’s realm – Ireland. It also suffers from a lack of discussion of recent works. As a result it seems distinct from current scholarship, in sharp contrast with John Edwards’ excellent Mary I: England’s Catholic Queen (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2011), which paid due consideration to Philip’s role, used an array of Spanish sources and up-to-date studies. As a result I would recommend Edwards’ biography of Mary over this book when it comes to the issue of Philip’s time as king-consort. More needs to be done though on the Habsburg who became England’s king. Popular knowledge of Philip’s later and troublesome relationship with the English and former sister-in-law Elizabeth I is well known. It is time to shed more light on the origins of that relationship, which was not as fruitless as the events of the 1580s would have us believe.

1 John Edwards and Ronald Truman (eds.), Reforming Catholicism in the England of Mary Tudor: The Achievments of Friar Bartolomé Carranza (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005).
2 Alexander Samson, ‘Changing Places: The Marriage and Royal Entry of Philip, Prince of Austria, and Mary Tudor, July-August 1554’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, 36, 3 (2005), p. 763.
3 Ibid, p. 765.
4 David Loades, ‘Philip II as King of England’, in C. Cross, D. M. Loades and J. J. Scarisbrick (eds.), Law and Government under the Tudors: Essays Presented to Geoffrey Elton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. 177-94. For the articles on Carranza see fn 1. Kelsey also ignores John Edwards’ work on Spanish influence in Marian England including Edwards, ‘A Spanish Inquisition? The repression of Protestantism under Mary Tudor’, Reformation and Renaissance Review, iv (2000), pp. 62-74.
5 Glyn Redworth, In Defence of the Church Catholic: The life of Stephen Gardiner (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990), pp. 306-7. We also have to consider that Pole had no intention to marry Mary in 1553 nor was she interested in him.
6 M. J. Rodríguez-Salgado, The Changing Face of Empire: Charles V, Philip II and Habsburg Authority, 1551-1559 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp.103-6.
7 Philip II to Don Guerau de Spes, 30 June 1570, cited from Geoffrey Parker, ‘The Place of Tudor England in the Messianic Vision of Philip II of Spain’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 12 (2002), p. 185.

And on a completely unrelated note - Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all!

17 November 1558: The deaths of Mary I & Archbishop Pole

2011-11-17T02:33:00.000-08:00

Funeral effigy of Mary I

On this day in 1558 Queen Mary I died at St James's Palace. She was 42 years old and had reigned for little over five years.

Details of the deathbed scene were provided by John Foxe in the second edition (1570) of the famous Actes and Monuments ('Book of Martyrs'). The 'great afflications fallyung vppon this Realme' under Mary, 'wherin so many mē, women, and children were burned, many imprisoned and in prisons starued, diuers exiled, some spoyled of goods and possessions, a great number driuen from house and home, so many weepyng eyes, so many sobbyng hartes, so many childrē made fatherles, so many fathers bereft of their wiues and children so many vexed in conscience' (you get the drift), came to an abrupt end in the winter of 1558,

'...after all this (I say) now we are come at length (the Lord be praysed) to the xvij. day of Nouember, day as it brought to the persecuted members of Christ, rest from their carefull mourning, so it easeth me somwhat likewise of my laborious writyng, by the death I meane of Queene Mary. Who beyng long sicke before, vpō the sayd xvij. day of Nouember, in the yeare aboue sayd, about iij. or iiij. a clocke in the mornyng, yelded her life to nature, and her kyngdome to Queene Elizabeth her sister.'

[Foxe, Actes and Monuments, 1570 edn., Book 12, p. 2336].

Foxe recorded that 'some said that she dyed of a Tympany', a diagnosis that has proved enduring though seems to have lost favor in recent years. But he also speculated whether 'by her much sighing before her death, supposed she dyed of thought and sorow.'

What of the famous tale that the dying queen declared that when she was gone, and her body opened, the word 'Calais' would be found engraved upon her heart? Here too Foxe comes to the rescue; the story is first mentioned in the second edition of Actes and Monuments. Though it is a highly improbable claim it nonetheless perfectly sums up popular perceptions of Mary and her reign. For subsequent centuries Mary has been regarded as an incompetent ruler - one of England's worst - best remembered for her spectacular failings in government, the church and in war. The loss of Calais, England's last remaining territory in France, in early 1558 has frequently been selected as a good example of how utterly disastrous her reign was. So why not incorporate it somehow into her deathbed speech? Especially as such a loss was for many of Mary's opponents, not least Foxe, explicit evidence of divine disapproval of this queen and her religious policies.

'Wherupon her Counsell seyng her sighing, and desirous to know the cause, to the end they might minister the more ready cōsolation vnto her, feared, as they sayd, that she tooke that thought for the kynges Maiestie her husband, which was gone from her. To whom she aunswering againe: In deede (sayd she) that may be one cause, but that is not the greatest woūd that pearceth my oppressed minde: but what that was she would not expresse to them. Albeit, afterward she opened the matter more playnely to M. Rise and Mistres Clarentius (if it be true that they told me, which heard it of M. Ryse him selfe) who then beyng most familiar with her, and most bolde about her, tolde her that they feared she tooke thought for king Philips departing frō her. Not that onely (sayd she) but when I am dead & opened, you shall find Calyce lying in my hart....'

[Foxe, Actes and Monuments, 1570 edn., Book 12, p. 2336-7].

Foxe and co had another cause of celebration. Christmas came early for the Protestants as Archbishop Reginald Pole died that same day. In a matter of hours England lost its last Catholic monarch who governed an England united with Rome (unlike James II) and its last Catholic archbishop of Canterbury. It would be complete wrong of me not to make some mention of the death of one of the most brilliant, albeit controversial and divisive, churchmen of the sixteenth-century, if not the early modern period.

Reginald Pole by unknown artist, c.1550? Lambeth Palace, London.

Like Mary, Pole had been suffering ill health since the late summer of 1558. Though Foxe claims Mary died sometime between 3-4am, we know from Alvise Priuli, Pole's close confidante who was with him to the end, that she 'died at 7 after midnight on 17th' [around 7am]. So she passed away before Pole who died at 7pm. News of the queen's death reached him though initially his attendants thought it best to keep the news secret lest it quicken his demise. As Priuli wrote to his brother on 27 November, someone went 'against this order' and all was revealed.[1] Naturally Pole was 'very worried about results of her death', but was nonetheless preoccupied with his own impending end.[2] With the support of attendants, Pole left his bed and bowed his head almost to the floor where he engaged in prayers.[3] He died a few hours later.

Three days before he died Pole wrote to Princess Elizabeth declaring that he thought it best 'to leave all persons satisfied of me especially you, thanks to God's providence' before making a futile plea for his chaplain to converse privately with her on religious matters.[4] For Elizabeth, the deaths of the Catholic sister and archbishop of Canterbury in rapid succession was a godsend. When the coup to place Jane Grey on the throne failed in July 1553 Mary was quick to declare God's hand in her succession. Like her namesake she was favored; God had established her on the throne so she may oversee the restoration of true religion. It was now Elizabeth's, and the Protestants', time to rejoice in the mercy of the Lord. Thus the new young queen when informed of her succession is supposed to have declared 'A Dominum factum est illud, et est mirabile in oculis nostris'. It is this the lord's doing and it is marvelous in our eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2008 marked the 450th anniversaries of the deaths of Mary and Pole. Mary's demise went largely unmarked; Pole's ecclesiastical position appears to have secured him some recognition. For an example of this see the Requiem Mass 'offered for the repose of the soul of Reginald Cardinal Pole' held in the chapel of Magdalen College, Oxford (Pole's own college), in 2008:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/paullew/sets/72157609310417557/with/3038728057/

[1] Priuli's letter to his brother Antonio, 27 November 1558. Thomas F. Mayer (ed.), The Correspondence of Reginald Pole: Volume 3. A Calendar, 1555-1558: Restoring the English Church (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004).

[2] Ibid.

[3] Priuli's letter to the archbishop of Toledo, aft. 15 December 1558. Ibid, pp. 588-90.

[4] Pole's letter to Princess Elizabeth, written from Lambeth, 14 November 1558. Ibid, p. 579.

10 facts about Mary I’s coronation

2011-10-01T00:06:00.000-07:00

Rejoice! On this day in 1553 Mary I became England’s first crowned queen regnant with her coronation in Westminster Abbey. Here are ten facts about this momentous occasion, not just for Mary, but for contemporaries who were evidently amazed at the sight of a woman being crowned as monarch.

1. Mary did not wish to be anointed with the holy oils consecrated by Edwardian ministers – men whose views she deemed as heretical. So she had the bishop of Arras in Brussels send ‘untainted’ oils. The bishop sent three lots though apologised about the rather plain vessels encasing them. Had I longer than three weeks to send them I would have commissioned some nicer cases, he told the Imperial ambassador Simon Renard.

2. The archbishop of Canterbury did not preside over the coronation ceremony, as was customary. Instead Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester took lead. The reason? The current archbishop was her loathed enemy, Thomas Cranmer, then imprisoned in the Tower. Ally Gardiner was a safer bet.

3. Mary’s coronation was naturally unique given she was first woman crowned as monarch in her own right. So during the ceremony she held, as Gianfrancesco Commendone records, ‘in her hands two Sceptres; the one of the King, the other bearing a dove which, by custom, is given to the Queen [queen consorts]’. It would have been the same dove-topped sceptre her mother, Katherine of Aragon, held during her coronation alongside husband Henry VIII in 1509.

4. Mary’s crown was carried in the abbey by the aged Thomas Howard, 3rd duke of Norfolk (who had recently been released from the Tower). His steward was his grandson and heir, Thomas. The duke’s estranged wife, Elizabeth, helped carry the train of Mary’s magnificent coronation robes.

5. Mary progressed to the abbey under a ‘rich canapye of Bawdkyn’ carried ‘by the barouns of the v ports’ (i.e. the Barons of the Cinque Ports). This was completely in line with tradition and was identical to the one used in her father’s coronation in 1509.

6. In order to ensure the entire congregation could witness Mary’s crowning, a platform was erected within the abbey. It was twenty steps high, and Mary had to ascend a further ten steps to get to the throne situated on its own dais.

7. To the abbey Mary wore ‘her parlement robes of crymsyn veluit’ (as traditional) which covered her ‘gown of blew velvett’. During the ceremony she changed and wore a ‘mayntell of Crymsyn velvit bordered with Ermyn with buttons and tasiles of sylke and golde’.

8. Mary was the second (not the first as sometimes stated) English monarch to be crowned with three crowns. They included St Edward the Confessor’s crown, the imperial crown commissioned by Henry VIII, and a crown ‘purposlie made for her grace’. The first monarch crowned in such a manner was her predecessor, and brother, Edward VI.

9. The queen’s champion – the man whose task it was to boldly announce he would fight any man who refused to recognise Mary as the sovereign– was Sir Edmund Dymoke. He appeared during the coronation banquet on horseback dressed in full armour and flung down his gauntlet daring anyone to accept the challenge. In gratitude Mary gave him her gold drinking cup filled with wine.

10. 7,112 dishes were served at Mary’s coronation banquet. The lady herself was served over 312 dishes. Of these numerous dishes around 4,900 were listed in records as ‘waste’.

But before you shake your head at such excess and greed, it seems the remaining dishes were distributed to Londoners. And Londoners appreciated the freebies. There was a desperate scramble for the food (as there was for the bits of carpet Mary walked on and the rails constructed to keep the crowd in line). The kitchens were soon emptied. But not just of food. The celebratory mood caught fire and soon even bits of furniture were ripped from the kitchens. Such vandalising and looting in London! Thank goodness we live in more civilised times...

For more on the coronation see,

John Edwards, Mary I: England’s Catholic Queen (London and New Haven, Yale University Press, 2011), pp. 123-34.

Alice Hunt, ‘’What art thou, thou idol ceremony?’: Tudor coronations and literary representations, 1509-1559’, PhD thesis, Birbeck, University of London, 2005.

Alexander Samson, ‘The marriage of Philip of Habsburg and Mary Tudor and anti-Spanish sentiment in England: political economies and culture 1553-1557’, PhD thesis, Queen Mary, University of London, 1999), pp. 54-67.

Review of John Edwards, Mary I: England’s Catholic Queen (2011)

2011-09-07T08:40:00.000-07:00

Last week’s holiday provided me with the perfect chance to read the latest biography of Mary. Perhaps not ideal beside-the-pool reading, but I wasn’t disappointed...

John Edwards, Mary I: England’s Catholic Queen (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2011), 387pp. £25.

Works on Mary I and her reign do not reach the number of studies on her father and half-sister. Still, she is the subject of a fair number of biographies. Compare this to biographies of Henry VIII; Scarisbrick’s Henry VIII, first published in 1968, still remains the leading account of this monarch’s life. Mary, on the other hand, has at least five biographies to her name published since 2006 (not counting reprints), all of which are readily available in mainstream book shops. This includes the latest offering, by John Edwards, which has already been heralded as ‘the first time we have a proper account of her with a fully European-wide perspective’ (Professor Diarmaid MacCulloch) and ‘the best scholarly biography of Mary I’ (Professor Ethan Shagan). And such comments are not far off the mark.

John Edwards’ book forms part of the Yale English Monarchs Series which already includes separate biographies of the Tudor kings. The works, or at least the ones I have read, act as introductory texts yet are also incredibly valuable to those rather clued up on the various figures. Having read nearly all the biographies of Mary published in modern times, it is easy to get – dare I say this? – slightly bored of reading lengthy discussions on Mary’s parental and maternal ancestry at the beginning of each biography along with a very detailed account of Katherine of Aragon’s time in England before her daughter’s birth, her marriage to Prince Arthur, then to Henry VIII, the accompanying treaties, etc. Edwards is particularly skilled in providing the reader with the necessary details, naturally of great benefit to those new to Tudor history, whilst not diverting from his subject. It is a very subtle way of dealing with the always essential but sometimes burdensome context.

It’s best to start with the positives of this book and there are many. Undoubtedly this biography is the most important one of Mary in regards to her marriage, her husband’s role as King of England, and Anglo-Spanish relations in general throughout the course of Mary’s lifetime. Edwards is a Modern Languages Faculty Research Fellow in Spanish at Oxford University and specialises in Early Modern Spain. He has already written a joint biography on Mary’s maternal grandparents, Ferdinand and Isabella, along with a separate one on Isabella. He is an authority on the Spanish Inquisition and Spanish religious influence in mid-Tudor England. His knowledge of Spanish sources of this period shines through this book. Not only has he exhausted Spanish archives for primary sources (some of which are not used in other works on Mary) but he is mindful of secondary Spanish sources. I was impressed (and jealous) that he got hold of María Jesús Pérez Martín’s María Tudor: La gran reina desconocida (Madrid: Ediciones Rialp, 2008) which clearly helped guide him to certain primarily materials in Spain. The result of such wide-ranging research, unconfined to the libraries and archives in the UK, is a marvellous account of Mary’s relationship with her Habsburg relations. Or, as Diarmaid MacCulloch nicely put it, Mary as ‘a Trastamara princess as well as a Tudor’.

There is ample information on Mary’s marriage to Philip of Spain, namely the complicated route to the union, Philip’s attitudes to becoming King of England, and of the grand plans Philip’s father Charles V had for his dynasty. The personalities of these Spanish figures and their relationships with one another are discussed in more detail than I have seen elsewhere in works on Mary. I’ll give you an example of this – Edwards points out that by the early 1550s Philip and Charles’ relationship was suffering somewhat, that Philip, understandable for his age, wished for more independence, and his plans for this often put him at odds with his father. We are also told that Philip, who wished to marry Maria of Portugal by the time Mary became queen came to understand his father’s desire for him to marry the new queen of England and instead of assenting to his father’s plans he decided not to lose face by turning the situation around and announcing to Charles that he had decided to break off marriage talks with Portugal through his own initiative (p. 147). It feels as if a battle of wills was in effect here, with Mary’s marriage being the policy of several characters – Mary, Charles, Philip – all of whom liked to think they were in control of the entire affair. A very insightful and personal account of the road to Mary’s marriage.

Edwards’ discussion of Philip’s own role as Mary’s consort is superb. Philip’s own anger at the terms of the marriage treaty, his involvement in English affairs, his recognition of the implications the Habsburg conflict with France had on England, and his admiration and later frustration with the English is laid out well. Alongside this is plenty of analysis of how Philip’s Spanish attendants regarded Mary’s realm. We are reminded of how highly the Spanish regarded English history and myth (Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table especially). Philip was also committed to such tales and ‘fully shared the popular taste of western Europeans for the romances of chivalry’ (p. 185). Upon marrying Mary ‘he seems to have slipped immediately and naturally into the chivalric role’ that the monarchs, male always before Mary, were expected to adopt (p. 210). This leads to some interesting questions about the negotiation of roles between Mary and Philip as well as how Mary was able to maintain her authority and declare her powers as queen regnant to be equally to that of a king’s, yet recognise that certain aspects of rule had been appropriated by her male counterparts. The sense I got from Edwards’ work is that Mary and Philip were a productive partnership with Mary perceiving her husband to be useful in carrying out the tasks denied to her sex (whether it was associated with chivalric orders and their rituals or, more pressingly, the matter of the battlefield). That is not say Edwards ignores the blatant conflicts that the marriage caused, including Philip’s own exasperation at the marriage treaty that placed great restrictions on his involvement in English affairs. Edwards also believes there was a sense of a culture clash that led to confusion and outright hostility between the Spanish visitors and the English. Occasionally he provides some amusing antidotes to highlight the problems in Anglo-Spanish relations. When, for example, the high-ranking Spanish noblewomen, the duchess of Alba, was greeted in Southampton alongside the recently arrived Philip, the earl of Derby attempted to welcome her in the English custom by kissing her on the lips (p. 185). Such was not the practice in Spain and it led to an awkward moment where the lady stiffened before politely accepting such informal English etiquette.

As already noted, Edwards has written about the Spanish Inquisition and Spanish religious influence in Marian England. These themes are further explored in this book. The reader is provided with an excellent overview of the legacy of heresy trials in England by the time of Mary’s reign, along with an understanding of contemporary attitudes towards heresy on the continent (especially pp. 254-8). Like several recent historians, including Thomas Freeman, Edwards does not seek to ignore Mary’s own support for the infamous heresy trials. His work is also in line with the arguments of the late William Wizeman in seeking to perceive the religious policies of Mary’s reign as part of the so called Counter Reformation in Europe. Mary’s church was not a standalone example to be examined as such but part of the wider Catholic Church influenced deeply by European churchmen including the many that formed part of Philip’s entourage. This in essence is the argument of Edwards’ book. Mary’s reign should not be examined merely in context with events that occurred in England beforehand, including Henry VIII’s break from Rome in the 1530s and even the Tudors whole establishment on the throne in 1485. The actions of previous Tudor monarchs especially in regards to the church are certainly important but a deeper understanding of the European political stage, papal affairs throughout these years, and the role European religious and political thinkers had in Mary’s England is imperative in our understanding of the first Tudor queen’s reign.

That being said there were some aspects I had issues with.

When discussing Mary’s decision to conform to her father Henry VIII’s demands in 1536 – to recognise her father as head of the church, his marriage to her mother Katherine as unlawful and thus herself as illegitimate – Edwards argues that Mary’s ‘emotional prop in the succeeding years’ was the pope and not her cousin Charles V (p. 50). But he fails to provide sufficient evidence to show such a connection between Mary and the pope. We are told that Paul III allowed Mary’s confessors to absolve her in secret (Edwards seems to be relying upon ambassador Chapuys’s letters for this though it should be noted that Chapuys was inconsistent in his claims that a) Mary was concerned about seeking papal approval for her actions and b) that the papacy was that directly involved). Edwards then fails to discuss the papacy much in the following pages. When he refers to the pope does he specifically mean Paul III? If so there really is little evidence in this book that Paul III was ever an ‘emotional prop’ for Mary. Paul III may have (allegedly) allowed Mary that one concession but, as Edwards also mentions, he ‘would not give her licence to renounce secretly her submission to her father, and hence continue to be regarded as a Catholic in the eyes of the Church’ (p.50). He even credits this unfavourable decision as adding to Mary’s turmoil over the rejection of her faith (p.52). Some emotional prop.

On the same issue, Edwards also appears to contradict himself about Mary’s religious views from c.1536-47 and her attitude towards her submission. Clearly he regards the submission as disingenuous and stresses that Mary wished for the pope to absolve her in secret so she could be a practising Nicodemite. He mentions this, for example, on p. 68. On the bottom of the same page he goes on to state that ‘it is particularly important to note that Mary seems at this time to have accepted the state and nature of the Church as Henry left it’ (pp. 68-9). What he is referring to here is the conservative nature of many aspects of Henrician doctrine which suited both Henry VIII and Mary. I entirely agree with Edwards on this point, and it is an argument that Judith Richards promoted with great effect in her book Mary Tudor. But Edwards’ recognition that Mary could worship in her father’s church and was accepting of the nature of it does conflict with his previous arguments that its state was so unpleasant to her – in danger, she believed, of threatening her soul – that she sought papal approval and was distraught at the problems she encountered in this. His repeated comparison between Mary and Nicodemus is not a neat one. Mary’s own religious approach was much more complex as was her attitude to papal authority. It would certainly have helped had Edwards mentioned Richards’ work and tackled it head on, and/or discussed more of the nature of Henry VIII’s church.

Then there are the errors. I’m rather forgiving of the odd slip-up because I’m certainly prone to them (and not just the odd one!). But Edwards has the misfortune of repeating some of these mistakes. On at least two occasions he states that Margaret Tudor, sister of Henry VIII and Mary’s aunt, was the mother of Mary, Queen of Scots (p. 63, p. 76). Remarkable given Margaret had died the year before granddaughter Mary of Scotland’s birth. What makes this mistake even sillier is that earlier he correctly identified the Scottish queen’s mother as Marie de Guise and later on talks about Marie’s role as regent. Edwards also states that Edward Courtenay, earl of Devon was Cardinal Reginald Pole’s nephew (p. 149). He was not. Edwards names Mary’s sister-in-law, the widowed duchess of Richmond, as ‘Elizabeth Howard’ though she was another Mary (p. 102).At one point Edwards refers to a letter by Jane Grey ‘apparently written to Mary’ (pp. 115-6), which was actually a conversation Jane had with an individual in the Tower recorded by one ‘Lea’ (probably Richard Lea, a London goldsmith). The text in question is discussed well in Eric Ives, Lady Jane Grey: A Tudor Mystery. (Thanks to the Lady Jane Grey Reference Guide for pointing that error out to me.)

The book jacket declares the biography to be ‘original and deeply researched’, offering ‘fresh understandings of her religious faith and policies, as well as her historical significance in England and beyond’. It succeeds in this and it is certainly a biography that should be consulted by any Mary/Tudor scholar. Those looking for a biography that merely discusses Mary’s personal history – who wish for another presentation of what Edwards’s brilliantly calls the ‘‘little woman’ approach’ to Mary (p. 105), that dwells on her ‘tragedies’ and purports an image of her as a domesticated queen denying her of any acumen and unable of governing decisively – will be disappointed. But it is his refusal to support such an image that attracts me to this book. It manages to cover a wide range of themes, contains an excellent bibliography and regular footnoting (though I felt at times Edward could have referenced more). The seventeen illustrations, though in black and white, have very detailed labels. The Mary that emerges from this book is a queen convinced that God favoured ‘and done great things for her, by bringing her to both throne and marriage’ (p. 347). It was such ideas that encouraged Mary’s steadfastness and determination, not always wisely pursued but nonetheless apparent and sometimes courageous. But it is not admiration of Mary that Edwards seems to seek. It is the recognition that she was monarch with achievements, long since ‘undermined and attacked’ but nonetheless present and necessary to appraise. He is neither the first nor the last historian to recognise the successes of Mary’s reign and to defend her ability to govern. But he is one of the first to have taken her role as a Habsburg wife very seriously.

A Mother and Husband to the Realm? How Mary’s Speech as Queen Helped Elizabeth I

2011-08-21T15:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I came across an article by Cristy Beemer published only a month ago on ‘The Female Monarchy: Rhetorical Strategy of Early Modern Rule’ (Rhetoric Review, 30, 8, pp. 258-74). The article explores the manner in which Mary and Elizabeth, England’s first queen regnants, presented themselves to a kingdom accustomed only to male rulers. Beemer identified Mary and Elizabeth’s tendencies to employ ‘the figures of the spouse, the mother, and the maiden to embody conventional roles for women in Tudor society’ (p. 259) though naturally these two occupied very remarkable roles for women of that age. Unlike other ‘mothers’ and ‘maidens’ they were not answerable to a male figure. Like their fellow Tudor monarchs, they expected to be recognised as the superior authority in the realm. Their bodies, Beemer argues, naturally invoked traditional gendered roles but at the same time their speech denied such roles. In other words, Mary and Elizabeth did not adopt submissive language but rather formulated speech that demonstrated their authority, their independence as rulers – their right to govern as powerfully and freely as their male predecessors.

But it is Beemer’s specific focus on Mary’s speech that I wanted to draw attention to. Like several recent historians, namely Judith Richards, Beemer argues that Elizabeth had a lot to thank her sister for as Mary of course governed first, challenged preconceived notions of female rule first, tested the waters so to speak, and made mistakes which proved equally valuable for Elizabeth. It is Mary’s speech before the Guildhall in 1554 that Beemer focuses on specifically. In 1554 the rebels of Wyatt’s uprising (primarily a protest against Mary’s prospective marriage to Philip of Spain) marched towards the city of London and the authorities were anxious that they would receive a warm reception once they got there or at least could not be held outside the city. Mary, who was advised to leave the capital, decided to stay and give a rousing speech at the Guildhall, which won her acclaim and plenty of support. During the speech, Mary declared that she was,

‘...wedded to the realm and laws of the same (the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger, which never hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be left off), you promised allegiance and obedience to me’ (p. 263).

Beemer points out that Mary very deliberately avoided calling herself a ‘wife’. She is ‘wedded’ to her kingdom but she employs the word ‘spouse’. She does not cast herself in the submissive role of a wife who was expected to obey her husband duly. Thus Mary gives her subjects no reason to believe they hold the power to command her; ‘Mary takes on the role as the person to whom obedience is sworn’ (p. 264). Beemer concludes ‘in one of the first examples of the strategy of gender play that female monarchs used to establish ethos, Mary will not be a wife to England, but rather, a husband’ (ibid).

In the same speech Mary went on to refer to herself as a ‘prince and governor’ instead of just using the term ‘queen’. Beemer points out (and I never noticed this before), that the Oxford English Dictionary attributes the first reference to a female sovereign as ‘prince’ to Geste’s 1560 sermon where he is referencing to Elizabeth I.* But Mary endorsed this term as early as 1554 (Beemer does point out rightly that the Guildhall speech was first recorded after Mary’s death but if accurate, and there is wide consensus that the speech is correct, it was still said by Mary six years before Geste used the term). Elizabeth described herself as ‘prince’ on numerous occasions. She was obviously supporting existing terminology advanced earlier by Mary who was keen to emphasise her similarity to male counterparts.

As everyone knows, Mary went on to marry and hoped the union would produce children, namely that longed for Catholic Tudor-Habsburg heir. How did a pregnant queen, or one who hoped of bearing heirs in the immediate future, continue with her image as a ruler whose power and rights matched a king’s? Beemer points out again that Mary continued this dual role; she emphasised her female body, namely her ability to produce children but in the same breath she explained that she hoped to continue the dynastic line like ‘my progenitors have done before’ (p. 265). Beemer explains that ‘Mary’s careful choice of the word progenitors is rhetorically savvy. Unlike the neutral gender marking of the Latin origin of prince, princeps, the term progenitors is gendered masculine in the Latin. Like the male princes before her, Mary’s ruling progenitors are exclusively male. Evoking a history of men, the discussion of succession is changed. Mary places her fertility on a level playing field with the men who came before her; the issue is one of succession only and not complicated by her gender. Although her female body signifies difference, her single status is no more problematic than any of the single men who ruled before her.’ (Ibid). The rest of the article chiefly concerns Elizabeth ‘mirroring’ her sister. And if we credit Beemer’s arguments, she was a useful model of queenship to follow.

Beemer’s article is well worth reading and I probably haven’t done it enough justice here. She is not the first, nor probably the last historian to draw attention to the legacy Mary left to Elizabeth, an inheritance which has forever been seen in a negative fashion (loss of Calais, religious turmoil, etc), but which was more fruitful than many have liked to admit.

Full article: Cristy Beemer, ‘The Female Monarchy: Rhetorical Strategy of Early Modern Rule’, Rhetoric Review, 30, 8 (2011), pp. 258-74.

* For those who don’t have a subscription to the OxfordED, here is the relevant entry:

Prince
Applied to a female sovereign. Obs.

1560 Geste Serm. in H. G. Dugdale Life (1840) App. i. 191 Let us low our prince [sc. Q. Eliz.],‥nothing thinking sayeng or doyng that may turne to hyr dyshonor, prayeng all way for hyr long and prosperus reigne.

New books, talks & an exhibition

2011-08-08T09:07:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately I have to start this post with bad news. As reported yesterday in the Telegraph, hundreds of documents have been ‘mislaid’ in The National Archives. Worse, from our perspective, they include documents relating to the sixteenth-century. The article only comments on the loss of works from the courts of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, but this may be the usual offhand way of saying Tudor dynasty as a whole (if they put ‘and the court of Mary I’, they are unlikely to elicit the same outrage from the average reader than stating we have lost records from Henry and Elizabeth’s reigns. Sigh). How many documents of Mary’s reign have also been lost is yet to be seen.

On to more pleasant matters; there are several upcoming books of interest. John Edward’s biography of Mary is due out the end of this month (more info here). Several studies of Mary’s kin are in the works. They include:

Patrick Williams, Catherine of Aragon: A Life (Amberley Publishing). Confusingly two dates have been supplied for this – one being the 15th of this month, the other June 2012. This ‘monumental new biography’ claims to be ‘the first to make full use of the Spanish Royal Archives’. Hopefully it will be akin to Eric Ives’s masterly study of Anne Boleyn.

At last we have a full scale study of Mary’s husband’s time as, well, her husband. Harry Kelsey’s Philip of Spain, King of England: The Forgotten Sovereign (I.B. Tauris), is out on 30/11/2011. The synopsis:

‘The Spanish Armada conjures up images of age-old rivalries, bravery and treachery. However the same Spanish monarch who sent the Armada to invade England in 1588 was, just a few years previously, the King of England and husband of Mary Tudor. This important new book sheds new light on Philip II of Spain, England's forgotten sovereign. Previous accounts of Mary's brief reign have focused on the martyrdom of Protestant dissenters, the loss of English territory, as well as Mary's infamous personality, meaning that her husband Philip has remained in the shadows. In this book, Harry Kelsey uncovers Philip's life - from his childhood and education in Spain, to his marriage to Mary and the political manoeuvrings involved in the marriage contract, to the tumultuous aftermath of Mary's death which ultimately led to hostile relations between Queen Elizabeth and Philip, culminating in the Armada. Focusing especially on the period of Philip's marriage to Mary, Kelsey shows that Philip was, in fact, an active King of England and took a keen interest in the rule of his wife's kingdom. Casting fresh light on both Mary and Philip, as well as European history more generally, this book will be essential reading for anyone interested in the Tudor era.’

Kelsey is not the only one to focus on this issue. For some years now Glyn Redworth has been researching Philip’s time as King of England. I’m always checking his Manchester University page to see whether he has a study on this coming out, but as yet no word. Back in late 2009 he mentioned he was writing an account of ‘The Short Reign of King Philip the Brief of England (Philip I, 1554-1558’) –‘Philip the brief’, love it! He is doing a talk on this matter for a conference on prince consorts at the IHR this December. I’m very tempted to attend despite this talk being the only one of interest to me in the whole programme. If you are interested in this conference, the programme and registration details will be confirmed on 1st Sept.

A study of Mary’s aunt and namesake, Mary Tudor (youngest daughter of Henry VII; consort of Louis XII of France and the grandmother of Lady Jane Grey) is currently being written by Jennifer Kewley Draskau. The biography entitled, The Tudor Rose: Princess Mary Rose, Henry VIII’s Sister, will be published by The History Press Ltd in May 2013.

Kelly Hart has got books on two Tudor women connected to Mary out (one due next year). One is on Katherine Brandon, duchess of Suffolk. Despite going into exile during Mary’s reign, the duchess and Mary were on good terms for a number of years (as Mary’s expense records attest; plenty of trips to see the duchess for some serious gambling. Tut tut!). The study will focus on the rather overblown (in my opinion) one-time rumour that Henry VIII considered ditching sixth wife Katherine Parr and making the duchess his next missus. There already exists a superb study of the duchess and her religious affiliations by Melissa Franklin-Harkrider, so I’m not sure this new book will make much of an impact.
Hart’s other biography will be on Jane Seymour, Henry VIII’s third wife and Mary’s stepmother. Mary and Jane were of course on good terms, and I imagine the nature of their relationship will be explored fully. Apparently the book is out in March.

The ever productive David Loades has yet another book out soon. This time it is a new overview of the Tudor dynasty. Lets hope his section on Mary pays careful consideration to the works on her reign that have been published in recent years. Loades’s book, The Tudors: History of a Dynasty (Continuum Publishing Corporation) is out in March.

Finally the exhibition, Making History: Antiquaries in Britain, which celebrates the achievements of the Society of Antiquaries of London, will be coming to the US. The exhibition will first be held at the McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College, from 4 September 2011 to 11 December, then will move to the Yale Centre for British Art from 2 February 2012 to 27 May. Why do I mention this? Well amongst the many fascinating gems on display, is one of the most important and famous portraits of Mary (by Hans Eworth):

So make sure you see it!

Review of Doran and Freeman (eds.), Mary Tudor: Old and New Perspectives

2011-07-21T11:13:00.000-07:00

Oh, I have waited for this book for so long!...

Susan Doran and Thomas Freeman (eds.), Mary Tudor: Old and New Perspectives (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 345pp. £15.99.

In the wake of an revival of interest in Mary Tudor, namely in her personal history and the religious policies of her reign, it is refreshing to have a study that steps back and reconsiders the foundations of the belief that Mary’s life and reign were abject failures. Readers of this blog do not need to be told that Mary has long been considered a disappointment – worse still, as a tyrannical or hysterical queen whose rule was marked by indefensible cruelty. Biographies of Mary briefly discuss the origins of this reputation but there has not been a full study into the history of Mary’s posthumous reputation and the changing nature of scholarship on her.

Fortunately ten historians have addressed this gap and produced one of the most important studies on Mary in recent years. This volume consists of a series of articles and an introduction, all original, nearly all controversial. Which naturally makes this book an impressive and exciting read!

The scope of topics is varied. The book is divided into two sections, with the first examining the reputation of Mary and her reign after her death, and the second offering new examinations into aspects of her life and rule ‘which were distorted by centuries of myth and misrepresentation’ (p. 15). Mary’s religious policies are naturally a hot topic but it is by no means the singular issue. Her education, relationships, and her ability to govern independently and decisively, along with that pressing and often neglected issue of Mary’s role as England’s first crowned queen regnant, are all considered with fresh new perspectives offered.

The book starts with a bold claim that sets the tone perfectly for the volume. The reader is told that had Mary the fortune of living longer – let’s say another decade – ‘almost certainly, England would be Catholic and probably Scotland as well, since the Scottish Protestants would not have had the crucial backing from England that they received at the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign’ (p. 1). Susan Doran and Thomas Freeman even undermine the argument that Elizabeth I’s accession was a sure thing, saying that had Mary lived longer providing time for Mary, Queen of Scots to be widowed and back in Scotland, there was the possibility of the young Scottish queen having the chance to claim the succession, or even Lord Darnley, the son of Mary I’s favourite, Margaret Douglas. Fortunately this book is not a series of ‘what ifs’ that are useful in reiterating the success of Mary’s policies up till her death and even longer had she lived on but can prove tedious, if not futile, arguments. The contributors are all concerned in placing matters in the context they occurred to prove Mary’s accomplishments and make a case for how unjustifiable this poor image of herself and her reign is.

The first article is by Doran and appropriately examines the perception of Mary through the eyes of Elizabethan Protestants. Doran indicates how Mary was perceived in a rather complex way by these Protestant writers; clearly there was no standard view of her. They may have all agreed in the ‘absurdity’ and sacrilegious nature of her religious views and policies, but quite a few conceded that she was an amiable figure, if not weak willed and thus no tyrant. Consequently others, namely Mary’s bishops, were selected as scapegoats for the persecutions of that reign. There were of course exceptions to this – as the work of John Foxe clearly illustrates – but Doran makes the excellent point that in the late sixteenth-century Mary was not perceived as the ‘bloody’ queen we are so familiar with. We can thank developments in the seventeenth-century for that (a time when, Freeman notes in another article, the term ‘Bloody Mary’ was used repeatedly and thus popularised). Doran also refers to the often lack of references to Mary in Elizabethan works, attributing this to a conscientious desire by some writers to focus their narratives on the Marian martyrs. By ignoring Mary they were denying her the glory and fame that was seen as the rightful properties of those she had persecuted.

Victor Houliston continues the focus on the Elizabethan period, albeit he is concerned with Elizabethan Catholics and their perceptions of Mary. He examines the usual suspects – prominent Catholic polemists like Allen, Persons and Sanders – many of whom naturally felt an affinity to Mary’s reign and were keen to preserve her reputation as a godly, charitable and virtuous woman. A particular point I found interesting is reference to some Elizabethan Catholics being uncomfortable with the policies of Mary’s reign, namely the burnings. Houliston mentions that Sanders, writing in the 1560s, argued that some fellow Catholics assumed an ‘air of pity’ and condemned the persecutions (p. 43). Houliston’s end point, that there existed an ‘icon’ of Mary who ‘reflected the glory of Catholic Europe’ is certainly one to consider though I came away from the article intrigued by Catholic disapproval in Mary than her status as an exemplary figure. Though maybe any disdain for Mary was worn away by the persecutions that Catholics themselves faced throughout Elizabeth’s reign. Critical comments dating to the 1560s could easily be transformed after decades of hardship prompting nostalgia for Mary’s ‘Catholic England’.

Paulina Kewes and Teresa Grant’s respective articles both consider contemporary political developments and their effect on the reputation of Mary. Kewes examines the legacy of the 1553 succession crisis during Elizabeth’s reign when the absence of an acknowledged heir led not only to speculation and intrigue about who should succeed Elizabeth, but even to notions that the next sovereign should be appointed, ‘elected’, by the elite. The memory of Mary was a powerful tool to use here. Though those who advanced the idea of an elected monarch did not want to say that Edward VI’s own appointment of Lady Jane Grey was a good thing, for that would have greatly offended Elizabeth as it had done Mary, they did use the example of Mary’s reign as reason enough not to have another Catholic monarch. And given that the Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots was practically Elizabeth’s heir in all but name for many years, it is easy to see why Protestant polemists would drag up the example of Mary Tudor to advance their argument that they should have some say in the appointment of the next king or queen.

Grant meanwhile looks at the slightly later years – the rule of the Stuarts – where the memory of Mary was equally important. Anti-Spanish feeling was rife at certain periods especially post Gunpowder Plot (1605). This naturally led to criticisms of Mary, characterised as subservient to Spain and to her husband, Philip. But Grant also identified attacks on Mary’s personality as well. In the early seventeenth-century play, Sir Thomas Wyatt, she is depicted as materialistic (linking, of course, to the then prevailing stereotype of Catholicism as a worldly faith marred by avarice), as well as being insincere. She is first presented to the audience as like a ‘nun’, steadfast in her faith, only to swiftly agree to marriage and adopting a fixation with her frequently absent husband. She was by now seen as a woman who lacked judgment and sought poor counsel.

The theme of Mary as a woman who was unprepared to act independently, and when she did she failed miserably, is one which has widely been supported in works on Mary till present day (as we are reminded on several occasions in this book). One of the most controversial issues relating to this is Mary’s involvement, or more accurately her responsibility, in the notorious burnings of the Protestants. Here two of the contributors of this volume disagree. In his article on the Marian persecutions, Thomas Freeman’s argues for Mary’s zealous backing of the policy, noting her ‘acute interest in and oversight of the burnings’ (p. 172). This is at odds with Judith Richard’s article which seeks to stress the involvement of local authorities in the process of trying heretics. Richards does not deny Mary’s support for the policy but her insistence on the role of others in the effort conflicts with the rest of her article. Firstly her claim is not backed with nearly enough evidence as Freeman backs his own with. Secondly, Richard’s article principally concerns Mary’s abilities as queen, her thorough grounding of the law, and her often astute, if not reasonable, way of handling situations. It is clear that local authorities played a role – no one could claim Mary was alone in enforcing and defending the policy – but her support for the decision and even her interventions in the process are documented more than once. Arguably Richards’ view is inconsistent – maybe too favourable? But she does raise several other excellent points, not least that the perception that Mary’s actions were controlled by her ‘hysteria’ is an absurd, prejudicial view, with little historical basis. Worrying, this grossly outdated view is still being voiced. Richards observed that only recently the Wikipedia page for Mary presented as fact that her probable phantom pregnancies and the alleged trauma or ‘hysteria’ that such an event procured, was the reason for Mary’s persecutions of the Protestants!

Mary’s role in the affairs of her reign is also discussed in the late William Wizeman’s article on the religious policies of her reign. In many respects the article is an excellent summary of recent works into the vitality and successes of the Marian Church, not least the Eamon Duffy’s impressive Fires of Faith. Wizeman also advances the argument he has made previously – that Mary’s church was not an insular establishment, but important to consider in context of the ‘Counter Reformation’ sweeping Europe. He provides ample examples of Mary’s England being a breeding ground for Catholic talents, many of whom would later emerge as significant figures of the ‘Counter Reformation’. Unlike Duffy who ascribes Cardinal Pole as the leading figure of Mary’s church, Wizeman recognises Mary’s initiative and believes she was self-consciously presenting herself as a ‘chief model of the faithful and devout layperson’ (p. 167). This is an appealing point. As Mary shunned the headship of the church and acknowledged papal supremacy, her role as that of the exemplary follower instead makes a lot of sense. One thing that Wizeman leaves open for others to examine further is whether Mary was involved in ‘self-fashioning’. I found this fascinating not least because it is something I touched upon in my MA work in regards to the way in which Mary presented herself prior to her succession. Certainly it would be too cynical to say that every act of charity and good deed was committed by Mary consciously to cultivate a specific image, but like many contemporary monarchs and especially Elizabeth I later, she was deeply concerned with her image and of the need to encourage support for herself and her policies.

Mary’s education has frequently been ignored or touched upon lightly in biographies, but two articles in this volume seek to address the prevailing crude notion that Mary was, in the words of Geoffrey Elton, ‘rather stupid’. Andrew Taylor’s assessment of the young Mary’s education and knowledge of humanist texts is admittedly stifled by the lack of evidence we have on this in the years before the collapse of her parents’ marriage. Yet both Taylor and Aysha Pollnitz make the comparison between Mary and her great grandmother Margaret Beaufort, a patroness of renowned learning. The influence Katherine of Aragon had on her daughter has long been recognised and is backed by Taylor and Pollintz, but the impact of Beaufort (dead before Mary’s birth) is a new and intriguing one. It was Margaret, Pollintz argues, who set a standard for subsequent aristocratic women in devotional habits and patronage of scholars and colleges. Mary was the true heir of this legacy. Pollintz uses as example of this Mary’s involvement in the translation of Erasmus’ Paraphrase on John, encouraged by stepmother Katherine Parr, then at the centre of a remarkable scholarly circle of court women. The uncompleted translation proved Mary’s competence as translator along with her ability to exploit her position as a royal female to help advance the ‘enstruccion and edifynge of whole realms in the knowleage of god’, a view strongly felt by Parr (p. 132). Pollintz shows it was a belief that Mary continued to take very seriously as queen.

What though of the pitfalls, if any, of this book? The articles largely focus on Mary’s posthumous reputation in text throughout the centuries, including some fascinating discussions on presentations of her in children’s textbook from the nineteenth-century onwards. But there is no exploration of the way in which she was portrayed through images. It should be remembered that significant developments in the production of prints, especially in techniques in the late seventeenth-century and throughout the eighteenth century, led to the mass production of cheap prints of images. There began a roaring trade of prints of prominent persons, including past English monarchs and other royals. Countless images of Mary were produced for popular consummation and not all were mere copies of contemporary portraits of her. Portraits of her prints started to introduce references to the burnings; she became immortalised as ‘Bloody Mary’, her name forever linked to the most scandalous aspect of her reign. Along with portraiture, perhaps we should also address Mary’s reputation in film and TV, which reaches large audiences and frequently affects popular perceptions of her more so than academic studies, as well as her appearance in historical fiction.

That said there is little to complain about this book. It is undoubtedly an important text in our understanding of Mary and her reign and draws attention to areas where there is so much potential for further research (particularly the question of gender and Mary I, as Thomas Betteridge notes in his article). In the appendix is provided a thorough list of the Marian martyrs (with plenty of footnotes; always a good sign!) Will this book make much of an impact? I sincerely hope so and, given the names involved in this book, the relatively low price of it, and the original nature of its focus, it will attract attention. But can we ever put aside longstanding anxieties about Mary’s reign that have plagued accounts of it? As Freeman notes, Mary ‘has continually been judged by the standards of the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and not surprising, has been found wanting’ (p. 100). The authors are correct that is about time we form our own understanding, but it is a difficult process, unsettling for some, that perhaps is not as easy as Freeman’s allegory to the art restorer ‘carefully removing the layers of overpainting to reveal as much as possible of the original portrait that lies beneath’. The question of course – can we ever find the real Mary?

New Mary biography

2011-05-12T05:07:00.000-07:00

Finally Yale University Press’s English Monarchs Series has included Mary! The upcoming biography on the queen had been written by Dr John Edwards, Modern Languages Faculty Research Fellow in Spanish, University of Oxford, and is due out in August/Sept. Edwards has written extensively on early modern Spain, Catholicism and Mary’s grandparents, the famous Catholic monarchs Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon. He was one of the editors of Reforming Catholicism in the England of Mary Tudor: The Achievements of Friar Bartolomé Carranza (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005) – a must read for Mary enthusiasts.

The synopsis:

‘The lifestory of Mary I—daughter of Henry VIII and his Spanish wife, Catherine of Aragon—is often distilled to a few dramatic episodes: her victory over the attempted coup by Lady Jane Grey, the imprisonment of her half-sister Elizabeth, the bloody burning of Protestants, her short marriage to Philip of Spain. This original and deeply researched biography paints a far more detailed portrait of Mary and offers a fresh understanding of her religious faith and policies as well as her historical significance in England and beyond.

John Edwards, a leading scholar of English and Spanish history, is the first to make full use of Continental archives in this context, especially Spanish ones, to demonstrate how Mary's culture, Catholic faith, and politics were thoroughly Spanish. Edwards begins with Mary's origins, follows her as she battles her increasingly erratic father, and focuses particular attention on her notorious religious policies, some of which went horribly wrong from her point of view. The book concludes with a consideration of Mary's five-year reign and the frustrations that plagued her final years. Childless, ill, deserted by her husband, Mary died in the full knowledge that her Protestant half-sister Elizabeth would undo her religious work and, without acknowledging her sister, would reap the benefits of Mary's achievements in government.’

I have a feeling it will rank alongside Loades, Mary Tudor: A Life and Richards, Mary Tudor. I want it!

On This Day in 1558 – Mary Makes Her Will

2011-03-30T03:47:00.000-07:00

Sir Henry Bedingfield, by unknown artist, 1573. Oxburgh Hall, Norfolk.
Bedingfield, one of Mary's longterm supporters, was a witness of her will.

During her reign, Mary perceived herself to be pregnant on two occasions. The final time was in 1557-8, the last years of Mary’s life and reign. Philip left England in July 1557, and by December Mary was confident enough of her pregnancy to write to him of the news.

On this day in 1558, Mary made her will believing the birth was fast approaching (a due date of early/mid April appears to have been given). This was a customary procedure. Childbirth was rife with danger, so the prospect of the queen and her infant dying in the process was daunting though certainly not unthinkable.

The will can be read in its entirely in David Loades, Mary Tudor: A Life (Oxford, 1989), pp. 370-80. I have broken it down into the key sections:

1. Declaration of faith (standard statement placed at beginning of early modern wills. Provides insight into Mary’s faith)

‘Fyrste I do commend my Soulle to the mercye of Almighty God the maker and Redeemer thereof, and to the good prayers and helpe of the most puer and blessed Virgin our Lady St. Mary, and all of the Holy Companye of Heven. My body I will to be buried at the discression of my executors: the interment of my sayd body to be made in such order and with such godly prayers, Suffrages and Ceremonies as with consideracyon of my estate and the laudable usage of Christ’s Church shall seme to my executors most decent and convenient. Also my mynde and will ys, that during the tyme of my interment, and within oon moneth after my decesse owte of this transitory lyfe, ther be distributed almes, the summe of oone thousand pownds, the same to be given to the relefe of pore prisoners, and other pore men and whomen by the discression of my executors’.

2. States her desire to have her mother’s remains brought to Westminster Abbey so the pair may rest together.

‘And further I will that the body of the vertuous Lady and my most dere and well-beloved mother of happy memory, Quene Kateryn, whych lyeth now buried at Peterborowh, shall within as short tyme as conveniently yt may after my burial, be removed, brought and layde nye the place of my sepulture, In wch place I will my Executors to cawse to be made honorable tombs or monuments for a decent memory of us’.

3. Grants of money to religious houses re-established during her reign, namely the continuation in funds to ‘the oon of Monks of th’ order of Carthusians and th’ other of Nunns Ordines of Stae Brigittae’. Also that ‘the said Religious howses of Shene and Sion’ by granted ‘the summe of five hundred pownds of lawfully money of Englond’, along with other financial provisions. Later she provides assistance to the observant friars of Greenwich (the chapel of which she was baptised in), and to Savoy Hospital founded by her grandfather, Henry VII.

4. Requests for masses to be sung for her soul, her husband’s after the occasion of his death, her mother’s and her royal predecessors ‘namely the said Kynge Henry 5’.

5. Five hundred pounds to the ‘pore Scolers in ether of the Universities of Oxinford and Cambridge’.

6. Asks that her executors ‘provide some convenient howse within or nye the Suburbs of the Cite of London’ which will have ‘onn Master and two Brotherne’ (so three priests). This ‘howse or Hospitall’ would be endowed with lands and money and would be dedicated to aiding the ‘pore, impotent and aged Souldiers’ and those who had fallen into extreme poverty.

7.Asks that all her debts be paid, and all debts accumulated during the reigns of her father, Henry VIII, and brother, Edward VI.

8. States that it is her ‘dewtie to God’ to return to the Church various former church lands where permissible. Mentions Cardinal Pole’s efforts in the return to Rome and commends him to continue this after her demise. (Ironically Pole died on the same day as Mary).

9. Money to be given to her ‘pore Servants’, distrusted at a time when her executors saw fit.

10. Now the important part – her successor. She leaves her realm to the ‘heyres, issewe and frewte of my bodye accordyng to the laws of this Realme’. So her successor is her supposed unborn child. Aware of the possibility of leaving the throne to an infant, Mary provides a regent. This was to be ‘my saide most Dere and well beloved Husband’. She lists her husband’s many virtues, especially his dedication to the Church. She asks for the loyalty shown unto her by her subjects to be transferred to her husband on the occasion of his regency.

11. Near the end of the document she asks her husband to keep several jewels in her memory. This included on ‘table dyamond’ that had been sent to her by Philip’s father, and Mary’s cousin, Charles V. She notes that Philip may do what he wished with these items, including possibly later given them to their child that she believed she carried.

12.Cardinal Pole is given a thousand pounds. Money is also left to various noblemen and other churchmen. Longstanding household attendants are also remembered.

The 'wytnesses' of the will were men who had served her for a number of years and had been her most ardent supporters during her attempts to gain the throne in 1553 (naturally they were also devout Catholics) –

Henry Bedingfield
Thomas Wharton
John Throckmorton
Richard Wilbrahm

So ‘the’ Imperiall Crowne of this Realme’ (Mary does not completely abandon her father’s views), is left to her unborn child and Elizabeth is not mentioned throughout. The following month, Mary realised she was not pregnant. On 28 October 1558, her will was extended to accommodate the change in circumstances. Yet again Elizabeth is specifically not named. Her right is approved indirectly, for Mary states that her successor’s was according to the ‘Laws and Statues of this Realme’. So the 1544 Act of Succession and Henry VIII’s will remained, facilitating the accession of the last, and longest reigning, Tudor monarch.

New book, Elizabeth Taylor and Royal Weddings!

2011-03-24T07:37:00.000-07:00

Mary I by Hans Eworth, c.1554. The portrait was purchased for the National Portrait Gallery with the assistance of Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor (who passed away yesterday).

My first blog of 2011 focused upon upcoming works on Mary. Unfortunately I have little else to report on that front. I did forget to mention one publication – C.S. Knighton and David Loades, The Navy of Edward VI and Mary I (Ashgate, 2011). More information here:

http://www.ashgatepublishing.com/default.aspx?page=637&calctitle=1&pageSubject=3198&sort=pubdate&forthcoming=1&title_id=10404&edition_id=13582

Yesterday one of my favourite stars, Elizabeth Taylor, passed away in Los Angeles. You may wonder why I mention this on a blog on Mary Tudor. In her vast collection of jewels, Taylor owned a pearl believed to be "La Peregrina”, given to Mary by Philip of Spain upon the occasion of their marriage in 1554. Taylor and Richard Burton also helped purchased a Hans Eworth portrait of Mary (depicted wearing the pearl) for the National Portrait Gallery. Hope Walker, a PhD Student currently working on the works of Hans Eworth, has posted a fabulous article on Taylor’s contributions to the arts on her site:

http://www.hanseworth.com/blog_taylor.html

I don’t need to reminder readers of this blog that we have a Royal Wedding fast approaching. Naturally this has prompted the publication of several books on royal marriages, including one by Shire Publications. I imagine that Mary and Philip’s wedding will be covered. Little fact for you all – Mary was the first of only two English/British queen regnants who married during her reign. After Mary (who married Philip in 1554), the next was Queen Victoria who married Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha in 1840. The other queen regnants married before their accessions or in the case of Elizabeth I remained unmarried.

And speaking of Elizabeth – today marks the 408th anniversary of her death. She died in the early hours of the morning at Richmond Palace with the archbishop of Canterbury, John Whitgift, by her side. She was subsequently buried in Westminster Abbey with Mary (can’t imagine either lady appreciated this. Oh well!)

On a personal note, I have recently gained a place for my PhD and have been awarded full funding. I am thrilled about starting this autumn! My thesis will not be on Mary because, whilst researching my MA dissertation on her (it was on Mary and her associates during the years c.1533-53), I noticed the lack of in-depth work on religious conservatives at court. I will therefore be working on this area, with my proposed time frame being c.1530s to 1558. Obviously Mary will play an important role in my research (I’m particular interested in the nature of support for her often synonymous with ardent loyalty to the Crown). One issue I look forward to researching is the supposed existence of a ‘Catholic party’ during Edward VI’s reign that wanted to make Mary the regent until the boy king came of age to govern independently. It is a fascinating concept but one I believe (so far) that Mary never supported.

Finally, congratulations to Gareth Russell on the 1st anniversary of his blog! His series of articles documenting Anne Boleyn’s downfall are a wonderful read.

Henry VIII's funeral

2011-02-16T08:04:00.000-08:00

Today in 1547, Henry VIII was laid to rest in St George’s Chapel, Windsor, next to wife number three, Jane Seymour. The poor pallbearers had some difficulty in handling the oversized coffin; we are told that it took sixteenth yeomen and ‘four strong linen towels’ to lower the coffin into the crypt. As was the custom, the accession of the next king, Edward VI, was pronounced at the ceremony. Mary was now heir to the throne.

A few months back I consulted several documents regarding Henry’s death in the National Archives, amongst them his will (TNA E/23/4/1). Mary’s position within the succession was approved in the third Act of Succession (1544) – ‘the saide Imperall Crowne and all other the p’misses shallbe to the Ladye Marie the Kinges Highness Daughter’[1]. The Act also allowed Henry to name additional successors in his will or by letters patent, which he duly did. In the will, the throne was left to the heirs of Frances Grey if is his youngest daughter, Elizabeth, died childless. Frances’s children, Jane, Katherine and Mary Grey, were the granddaughters of Henry VIII’s younger sister, the other Mary Tudor. So Henry bypassed the heirs of his elder sister, Margaret, Queen of Scotland which included, by 1547, the young Mary, Queen of Scots and Margaret Stewart, Countess of Lennox (who was good friends with our Mary Tudor, so much so that it was rumoured, during Mary’s reign, that she would make Margaret her heir and deny Elizabeth the throne).

Here is page eight of the will. After leaving the throne to Edward, Mary is named as the next in line:

Notice the tiny error made – the clerk put down first that the crown was to be left to ‘our sayd doughter Mary lawfully begotten’, then quickly adding in before ‘lawfully’ – ‘and the heyres of her body’. Mary’s children had to be legitimate in order to succeed her. She, on the other hand, could inherit as the King’s illegitimate daughter. It then goes on to state that any marriage she entered into must have the approval of the Privy Council. Failing to secure their consent, she risked being denied the throne.

Now only was Mary an heiress, she was also a wealthy one:

‘Further our will is that from the furst hower of our death until such tyme as the sayd Counsaillours canne provide either of them [Mary and Elizabeth] or bothe of sum honorable mariages they shall have eche of them thre thousand poundes ultra reprisas to lyve on...’

Both also inherited properties and precious goods; Mary received over thirty properties in the south-east. She continued to acquire estates, the most significant being Framlingham Castle, Suffolk, granted to her by the Crown in mid 1553. Framlingham played an important role during her campaign for the throne in the same year.

We do not know for sure whether Mary attended her father’s funeral. Katherine Parr certainly did, witnessing the burial from the Queen’s Closet that had once been constructed for Henry’s first wife, and Mary’s mother, Katherine of Aragon. There are records though for materials, namely yards of black velvet, needed for Mary and her household who were now in mourning. The National Archives holds the Lord Chamberlain’s account of ‘The precedente of the Buriall of oure late Soveragane lorde kynge henry the eighte’ (LC 2/2). It lists the ladies, gentlewomen, gentlemen, ushers, and other household staff attending Mary, providing all with suitable mourning clothes. Many of the individuals mentioned served Mary for many years, including Susan Clarencius, Mary Finch and Beatrice ap Rhys the laundress (who had been in Mary’s household by the early 1520s).

(Ladies and gentlewomen attending Mary)

For further information on Henry's will, see J. L McIntosh, From Heads of Households to Heads of State: The Preaccession Households of Mary and Elizabeth Tudor, 1516-1558 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), pp. 201-17, which can be read online: http://www.gutenberg-e.org/mcintosh/appendix-a.html

[1] The Statutes of the Realm, vol. III (London, 1817), p. 955.

Possible portrait of a young Mary?

2011-01-25T07:45:00.000-08:00

In July I mentioned a portrait in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY, that is currently undergoing research. It was once alleged to depict a young Mary, though this identification went out of favour some time ago for numerous reasons (amongst them the difficulty of explaining how a portrait of Mary could have been commissioned during the period of her disgrace).

We are fortunate to possess several images of Mary prior to her accession, including a painting by one Master John, now in the National Portrait Gallery. This painting is particularly valuable as it appears to be the first portrait commissioned by Mary herself, probably to commemorate her re-inclusion in the succession (Act of Succession of 1543). The NPG also holds a miniature of Mary by Lucas Horenbout (c.1521-5), which may be the earliest surviving English portrait miniature.

Whilst rummaging through numerous files on my computer, I came across an image of one Holbein miniature purported to be Mary. I thought this would be of interest to those intrigued by the story of The Met portrait. It is a roundel depicting a young woman in profile. It is similar in style to a portrait of Prince Edward (later Edward VI), which is also held in The Met.

'Princess Mary, daughter of Henry VIII', or a young woman of the court of Henry VIII, c. 1543

Paul Ganz in The Paintings of Hans Holbein: First Complete Edition (London: The Phaidon Press Ltd, 1950) provides this brief discussion of the portrait:

'Like the roundel of Prince Edward, the portrait comes from an unknown collection; it was discovered in 1937 completely overpainted and was restored at the same time, whereby the damage to the collar was revealed and repaired. The identification of the sitter with Princess Mary is based not only on the striking similarity between her profile and that of her brother Edward but also on a comparison with various other portraits. An early one in three-quarters view must have been painted by Holbein during a former reconciliation in 1536. It is now lost and known only from an etching by Wenzel Hollar with the inscription: Princeps Maria Henrici VIII Regis Angliae filia. H. Holbein pinxit, W. Hollar fecit. Ex Collectione Arundeliana 1647. A badly damaged portrait study at Windsor Castle with the inscription ‘Lady Mary after Queen’ which, owing to its present condition, I did not regard as an original appears to have been the preliminary drawing for Hollar’s engraved portrait with the sides reversed. Recently it has been acknowledged as authentic by Parker (W.DR. 41) and by H.A. Schmid (Hans Holbein d. J. 113).’ (p. 257)

Evidently this was written over six decades ago, and some of the findings no longer stand. The ‘Windsor’ sketch, concluded by Ganz to be a copy, is currently believed to be an original. The portrait of Edward is now believed to be from the workshop of Holbein, and not by the artist himself. The portrait of 'Mary', may also be by a follower.

The roundel is also discussed by Roy Strong. In Holbein: the Complete Paintings (London: Granada, 1980), Strong includes the portrait and states ‘Called the Princess Mary; Oil and tempera on wood/diam. 37/c.1543. London, Private Collection. Attributed work’ (p. 90). An image of the portrait can also be found in the National Portrait Gallery’s Heinz Archive in the sitter's box for Mary. No further information is provided, aside from the brief mention that it was once exhibited at the Walker Art Gallery (Liverpool).

So, do you think the portrait, possibly by a follower of Holbein, is of Mary and that there is ‘striking similarity’ between the sitter and Prince Edward? Further research would be great, but like many other portraits in private collections, we are unlikely to find out more. Aside from the question of the identity of the sitter, the portrait provides an interesting view of contemporary dress; the detail on the hood is excellent.

Siblings? Both portraits date to c.1543. The portrait of Edward may have been completed for the prince's sixth birthday (12 Oct 1543)

First post of 2011!

2011-01-15T04:13:00.000-08:00

‘Queen Mary Tudor’s Chair’ (c.1554) in Winchester Cathedral. According to a seventeenth-century account, this chair was used by Mary during her marriage ceremony.

I can’t believe it has been two months since I last posted! I promise that this is not due to any sudden lack of interest in Mary, or in Tudor history as a whole. Since my last post I been awarded my MA, worked throughout Christmas, and been busy with PhD applications. I am very glad that the last few months are over with and I can finally get back to updating the Mary bibliography site on a regular basis!

So, what will 2011 bring for us Mary enthusiasts?

This year will see the publication of several ‘Mary-books’. Dr Alexander Samson’s study on her marriage, Mary Tudor and the Habsburg Marriage: England and Spain 1553-1557, is out later this year (no date of publication as yet). There is finally a confirmed date on Susan Doran and Thomas Freeman (eds.), Mary Tudor: Old and New Perspectives (Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), mentioned previously on this blog. Both the paperback and the hardback will be released on 25 March. Alice Hunt and Anna Whitelock (eds.), Tudor Queenship: The Reigns of Mary and Elizabeth (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), has already been published in hardback, but at a rather unfriendly price. A preview of the book is available to see here. Will a paperback version be printed? It looks unlikely :(

Jeri McIntosh, whose PhD thesis focused on the pre-accession households of both Mary and Elizabeth (a recommended read!), is currently working on a biography of Mary. It appears to be part of the Queenship and Power series (which Hunt and Whitelock’s Tudor Queenship is attached to). No date has been provided for the biography. There will be a volume on early modern queenship but this is due in 2014.

Are we seeing a new direction in scholarship? In recent years, attention has been paid to the Church under Mary (and we have seen such remarkable works as Eamon Duffy’s Fires of Faith), but it is becoming apparent that there is growing interest in Mary’s role as first crowned queen regnant. The subject of female rule in the early modern period has become a hot topic. Alongside the publications being brought out by the Queenship and Power series, there is also a PhD in the works by a candidate at Liverpool university (Anne Mearns, ‘Early modern queenship: the evolution of gender and power in England, 1553–1714’).

The ‘Religious History of Britain, 1500-1800’ seminar at the IHR has a number of interesting talks planned for this year. Amongst them is a paper given by Anthony Rustell on ‘Evangelical survivalism in Norfolk 1553-8: the careers of Protestant clerics and their patrons in the reign of Mary Tudor’. The talk is planned for 3 May. For more information click here.

Unfortunately there isn’t much else to report. Any news of talks/further literature on Mary’s life and reign would be greatly appreciated.

Interview with Giles Tremlett on new Katherine of Aragon biography

2010-11-05T09:06:00.000-07:00

Some time back, I discovered that a new biography on Katherine of Aragon was in the works. Intrigued by the prospect of a new study on this figure – it has been a while since we have had a biography on her! – I contacted the author, Giles Tremlett. As I was unable to attend his talk at this year’s Cheltenham Literature Festival, I was particularly thrilled to receive a reply. I would like to thank Mr Tremlett for answering my queries and allowing me to post this mini-interview here. Obviously this blog is not about Katherine, but I’m certain that those interested in Mary, and in Tudor history in general, will wish to know more about this book. I highly recommend this book; make sure to put it down on your Christmas list!

Why did you decide to write a biography on Katherine of Aragon? Was it due to an existing interest in her life story or perhaps a response to the limited amount of work on her?

There had been no serious solo biography of her since Mattingly in 1942. As a Spanish speaker with access to archives here in Spain, I felt I might be able to add something new to her story – if only by virtue of adopting a 'Spanish' perspective. In fact I have found some “new” (or, rather, previously underused) documents and have gone over many of the original documents (or transcripts of them) that can only by seen in their abbreviated, version in the Rolls Series of calendars (Letters and Papers of Henry VIII, Calendar of Spanish Papers etc...) They have allowed me, I think, to add new “shading” to her life. On a personal level, I also feel a natural sympathy for her as a 'displaced' Spaniard in England (being, myself, a displaced Englishman in Madrid, Spain). The result is “Catherine of Aragon: Henry's Spanish Queen” (note the different spelling) published by Faber and Faber in the UK and Walker in the U.S.

What is Katherine’s reputation in Spain? Every year the Spanish Embassy sends representatives to attend the commemorative services held for Katherine at Peterborough Cathedral. I was wondering whether this action was reflective of general sentiment in Spain or was just a nice gesture on behalf of the ambassador.

Katherine is barely known in Spain. She is overshadowed by her sister Juana “The Mad”, who was queen of Castile and (as her name implies) a troubled and colourful character. Katherine is a footnote in Spanish history. That footnote reads little more than this: “Victim of a wicked husband, Henry VIII”. The first proper biography written by a Spaniard (Luis Ulargui) was published just a few years ago and doesn't seem to have made much impact.

Katherine acted as Queen Regent during her husband’s military expedition to France in 1513. Do you think Katherine’s actions were heavily influenced by the example of her mother’s queenship?

Absolutely. Isabel had shown that a woman could organise a war (though not lead troops into battle, which neither Katherine nor her mother ever did), so she was by no means scared of the experience. In fact, reading her letters, she rather seemed to enjoy it. I think that, subconsciously, she probably also saw what she did in terms of the partnership that her mother and father enjoyed as monarchs of Castile and Aragon respectively – and was happy to be offering her husband victories at home, while he fought abroad. At one stage she compares their wars to her father's own conquest of Navarre, for example.

Some of Mary I’s biographers stress that it was Katherine who ensured her daughter was educated to be queen, and certainly Katherine was always confident that her daughter should rule in her own right. Would you agree that Katherine played a significant role in Mary’s education?

I am not sure that Katherine was confident that her daughter would be queen – especially not at the end. I imagine she always hoped to give birth to a son. But she certainly made sure Mary was well educated, commissioning a book from the Spanish humanist Juan Luis Vives outlining the proper education for a daughter. There is evidence that Katherine was personally active in educating Mary before she was sent off to Ludlow with her own court. She also taught her daughter absolute obstinacy in the defence of her rights (even at the risk of martyrdom, see below).

Several years ago, David Starkey argued in his study of the six wives of Henry VIII that Katherine was probably lying about the non-consummation of her first marriage, but this lie was understandable and done to protect her position and later her daughter’s. From your research would you concur, or do you think evidence points to Katherine being honest in this regard?

Starkey says that Katherine knew how to lie, and I agree with him on that – the evidence is clear in the case of her first pregnancy, for example. But I think there is good evidence that she may have been telling the truth on this particular issue. The strongest piece of evidence is that Henry never took up the opportunity of swearing on oath that she was not a virgin when they married. Was he worried for his soul if he lied? We don't know. He may, of course, not have known enough about women's biology to be able to determine whether she was a virgin or not. I have also discovered, in a Spanish archive, the evidence given by some of those who travelled with Katherine to England. They said, at a hearing at the cathedral in Zaragoza (which historians of the period either seem to be unaware of or simply ignore – I cannot say why), that the wedding night was a disaster and all was doom and gloom the following morning. The English witnesses said pretty much the opposite when questioned at a hearing at Blackfriars. Basically, there is not enough evidence either way. Certainly her father said right from the beginning that she was still a virgin, when no-one really cared. I can't see why he would lie about that, unless he wanted to get her dowry money back or foresaw the kind of challenge that Henry would later make to the marriage.

In a letter to her daughter (probably dated around late 1533), Katherine commanded her to always obey God and to remember that ‘we never come to the kingdom of Heaven but by troubles’. One recent historian (Anna Whitelock) has argued that Katherine was inviting her daughter to a sort of ‘shared martyrdom’ and that Mary adopted the principals presented in this letter. Do you agree with this?

I absolutely agree with this. Katherine inherited an intensity of character – and intense religiosity – from her mother. That made her both obstinate and tough when convinced she was in the right. She was prepared to pay the ultimate price herself (of martyrdom) and was ready to take her daughter with her, if that was the only way to save their souls (which, by her terms, would have been lost had they bowed to all Henry's demands).

Katherine of Aragon has been portrayed in film and TV productions on several occasions, including recently on the show, ‘The Tudors’. But these productions often depict her later in life and as physically different from what she actually appeared. Do you think such productions have presented a distorted and/or limited view of Katherine, or do you think they do a good job in getting people interested in her life?

I haven't watched them, I'm afraid. Ideas of beauty change over time, anyway, so I am not sure her physical aspect matters that much.

Katherine’s successor and rival, Anne Boleyn, is often the subject of much interest, so much so that there exists at least three major academic biographies on her. From your research, what are your own views of Anne Boleyn?

Anne Boleyn is fascinating, though I do not claim to be an expert on her. She was clever in all senses of the word - sometimes running rings around Henry - and a very strong character. I think Henry found her exciting as long as he could neither bed nor marry her. Once they were married (and once he was divorced) she was less of a challenge, and soon became less exciting. In fact he began to find her annoying. I can't help feeling sorry for her. She waited ages to marry him (while Katherine fought the divorce) and then lasted only a few years before having her head chopped off. Katherine's marriage lasted far longer..

Finally (sorry for all these questions!), if one was planning a trip to Spain and wished to visit sites relating to Katherine, what particular places would you recommend?

She spent so little of her life here (leaving at the age of 15) - and most of that was spent following her mother and father about on their wanderings - that there are very few places to visit. The only place she could ever really call home was the Alhambra at Granada – where she spent most of the last two years of her time in Spain. The Royal Alcazares at Seville were another place she stayed during that final period. Her birthplace of Alcala de Henares is a charming, if overbuilt, university town outside Madrid. For a symbolic place in her mother's story I recommend the Toros de Guisando (the ancient stone bulls, set in open countryside an hour's drive from Madrid, where the pact that sealed her position as heiress to the throne was agreed).

Giles Tremlett's book, Catherine of Aragon: Henry's Spanish Queen (Faber and Faber, 2010), is out now in the UK.

New Mary site

2010-10-10T09:20:00.000-07:00

Over a month ago, I asked readers of this blog whether a site holding a complete list of works on Mary would be of interest. The response was really encouraging so I decided it was definitely something to pursue. I’m certainly not computer savvy – hence my use on the rather dependable wordpress! – but I have started work on it.

The site can be found here:

http://marytudor.wordpress.com

As you can tell, it is nowhere near complete. But I will be uploading information on a regular basis and once I’ve completed the categories, I will organise the site more effectively. I am also including a section on personalities associated with Mary and her reign, with information regarding articles/books on these persons.

I hope this site will be of use to students/Tudor enthusiasts in general. One thing I have found interesting whilst devising the lists, was that certain areas relating to Mary, have barely been touched upon. Categorising the complete bibliography allows us to identify the areas that are need of more attention, along with those that have been of particular interest to scholars over the past decade or so.

Mary’s suitors – Part I: The Dauphin, François

2010-09-16T16:03:00.000-07:00

In 1554, Mary married the most eligible royal in Europe. Wealthy, heir to numerous lands, handsome and chivalrous, Philip was the ideal candidate. He was also family, and we know how keen Mary was to preserve links with her Habsburg relatives. Mary did not marry for love; she had never met Philip before agreeing to marrying him and though she quickly became devoted to her husband, her choice was based primarily on his connections. In fact, the newly crowned Mary was more interested in Philip’s father, Charles V, who she had once been betrothed to (until he discarded her for Isabella of Portugal, Philip’s mother). Charles politely declined. He was, he argued, a rather old man, tied down with numerous problems across his vast empire. But he offered her his son and Mary readily accepted.

Throughout her life, Mary had been betrothed to, or there had been talk of her being married off to, the most prestigious figures in Europe. Despite being repudiated as heir to the throne in 1533, Mary was still regarded as a promising marriage candidate. This is part one (of what will probably be many!) posts looking at the men Mary was linked to.

François, Dauphin of France

Name: François, Dauphin of France

Parents: Francis I of France and Queen Claude (Francis’s first consort and the daughter of Louis XII of France who, incidentally, had once been married to Mary’s aunt, the ‘other’ Mary Tudor).

Position: The Dauphin; eldest son of the King of France and thus heir to the throne.

Live span: 1518-36

Qualities: Was heir to the throne of France; a great catch!

Faults: Dropped dead in 1536, a significant impediment.

The moment Mary was born speculations regarding her marriage were discussed. She was not the boy Henry and Katherine desired, but the appearance of a healthy baby gave the couple hope that a brother would soon follow. In the very early years of her life, marriage negotiations were somewhat ambiguous in nature, for they treated Mary as princess but were vague on her position as heir. Naturally those who sought her as their bride were quite excited by the prospect that Mary could be queen and they the king of England.

Dauphin François was betrothed to Mary at a very young age. In fact, he was still contently growing in his mother's womb when Henry and Francis I vaguely discussed a marriage between Mary and the child Queen Claude carried. Claude’s other children were daughters so like Katherine she faced pressure to deliver the necessary prince. Thankfully she had more luck than the English queen, and on 28 February 1518, François was born. In October, the Treaty of London was signed establishing ‘Universal Peace’ and promising Mary to the future king of France. Two betrothal ceremonies were held, one at Greenwich on 5 October, and the other in Paris on 16 December.

On 5 October, two-year-old Mary was taken to court and presented to the French ambassadors for the betrothal ceremony. The man standing in for the groom was Guillaume Gouffier, Lord Admiral of France. Wearing a gown of gold cloth, a small black cap to cover her auburn hair, and covered in jewels, Mary initially stood in front of her mother until the ceremony when she had to be held up to participate. The French ambassadors asked the royal parents for their, and thus Mary’s, consent which they duly gave. Then Mary’s godfather, Cardinal Wolsey, presented a magnificent diamond ring that was placed by the Admiral on the toddler’s finger. Mary was on her best behaviour but the event was naturally confusing for the child. She assumed the Admiral was her future husband. “Are you the Dauphin of France?” she asked. “If you are, I wish to kiss you.”

Portrait of The Lord Admiral by Jean Clouet, c.1516. Musée Condé, Chantilly

Shortly after, she was returned to the comforting world of the royal nursery, where her lessons in French would soon begin. Even by the end of her life, Mary’s proficiency in French was excellent and she conversed to her eventual husband, Philip of Spain, in this language. Her progress, and especially the state of her health, was carefully monitored by the French representatives at court. She only had few occasions to be displayed to them, namely in 1522 when Francis sent several diplomats to check up on the princess who was residing in Richmond. She entertained them by playing the virginals, performing with great skill for someone of her ‘tender age’. Yet she never visited France, nor ever met her intended husband.

Henry’s alliances with the French were always uncomfortably made, unsurprising given his desire to conquer rather than befriend them. Katherine, a Spanish princess, was horrified by the prospect of a French marriage for her daughter. Her father had once been engaged in a heated war with France, continued by his grandson and Katherine’s nephew, Charles V. She had been sent to England in 1501 to marry the prince of Wales, and help foster good relations between her native country and her adoptive one. This was the task of sixteenth-century foreign princesses – to act as ‘royal breeding machines’ (to coin a famous Tudor historian’s words!) and as diplomats. Mary’s engagement to the Dauphin signified Katherine’s failure. The same year she gave birth to a stillborn daughter; it would be her last pregnancy. 1518 must have been one of the bleakest years of Katherine’s life.

Fortunately for Katherine, Henry began to lose interest in the arrangement. Queen Claude dutifully sent an image of little François for his in-laws and bride to admire, along with a beautiful jewelled cross worth six thousand ducats. But Henry was reluctant to be so benevolent in return. Significantly, he failed to bring Mary to the Field of Cloth of Gold in 1520, though Francis and Claude brought the Dauphin with them. It came as no surprise when, in 1521, Henry broke off Mary’s engagement to the Dauphin and betrothed her instead to Charles V. The dauphin had been ditched.

Minature of the Dauphin by Jean Clouet, c. 1525-8. Royal Collection

Alliances were always feeble in nature and eventually the arrangement with Charles broke down. The English got a taste of their own medicine when in 1525 Charles married another cousin, the incredibly wealthy Isabella of Portugal. By 1526 a French marriage looked like a good prospect again. Unfortunately Francis had arranged another marriage for his heir, or to be more specific, it had been forced on him by Charles V. On 14 February 1525, Francis was captured in battle against the imperial forces at Pavia and to secure his freedom the French government sought an exchange – Charles may have the custody of Francis’s two eldest sons if he released the King (and the boys remained in captivity for around four years). Out of these talks came an agreement to marry the Dauphin to Charles’s niece Maria of Portugal and, given the unreliability of the English, the French regarded it as fair game to marry off the Dauphin elsewhere.[1] Thus by 1526 the Dauphin was no longer an option but Francis had other sons and he proposed that his second, Henri, duc d'Orleans, marry Mary. There was also talk of Francis being considered given that Claude had died in 1524.

Dauphin François and Mary were never betrothed again. In the mid 1530s there was some talk of a possible marriage between himself and Princess Elizabeth, Henry VIII’s daughter by Anne Boleyn, which came to nothing. On 10 August 1536, the Dauphin died suddenly at Tournon, an incident widely, and wildly, attributed to poison, resulting in the execution of one of his servants, Sebastiano de Montecuculli.[2] François’s death paved the way for his brother, Henri, to succeed to the throne. Henri was another of Mary’s one time ‘fiancées’. He would also turn out to be her main enemy.

Portrait of the Dauphin by Corneille De Lyon. Date unknown though seems mid-1530s

[1] Maria of Portugal was the daughter of Charles’s sister, Eleanor, who married Francis I in 1530. The marriage was one of the terms Charles forced upon the defeated Francis.

[2] François is said to have died after drinking contaminated water after building up a thirst playing a game of tennis. Tennis was a dangerous game for French royals. Charles VIII of France knocked himself out whilst playing the game, an injury which led to his death, and Louis X was said to have died after drinking large amounts of cold water after playing tennis for hours in the heat. Ironically, François’s brother, Henri (who became king in 1547), also suffered a sports-related death. This time it wasn’t the curse of tennis, but the ever dangerous pastime of jousting. A lance pierced Henri’s right eye and entered his brain. Physicians tried to save him but after ten agonising days he succumbed. In short, French royalty should never play sports.

A guide to Winchester

2010-09-13T07:27:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I visited the city of Winchester for the first time. Winchester is a particularly special place for the subject of this blog for, in July 1554, Mary married Philip of Spain in the fine cathedral. Here is a (very!) brief guide of the Mary sites in Winchester that will hopefully prove useful to anyone planning a visit:

Winchester Cathedral

Philip arrived at Southampton on the 19 July 1554. He stayed there for a few days, reaching Winchester in the early evening of 23rd. Soon after, he celebrated mass at the cathedral, then retired to the Dean’s house, changed dress, and went to Wolvesey Palace to meet Mary for the first time. Winchester’s proximity to Southampton, and the splendour of the cathedral, made it an ideal setting for the wedding. Additionally, the couple were to be married by the bishop of the diocese – Stephen Gardiner, the Lord Chancellor. The favourable comments made about the cathedral from Spanish visitors attests to the success of Mary’s decision to hold her special day there.

The couple married on 25 July, an auspicious date for it marked the feast day of St James, patron saint of Spain. The groom wore white and gold and the bride wore purple and white (sounds ghastly, I know! But from a contemporary perspective the couple were dressed magnificently). Philip’s ‘suit’ was a gift from his bride, who had spent quite some time arranging her own dress. Clearly she was determined to see Philip – the new King of England – as well turned out as she.

When visiting cathedral today, it is hard to fully appreciate the setting of the wedding for the couple married on a specially constructed scaffold that was removed shortly after. Two days earlier, they had met for the first time and this had also been a public affair. We are told that another sort of a stage had been constructed (this time in Wolvesey’s Palace, a short walk from the cathedral), where the couple first greeted each other in front of their receptive, and rather large, entourages. Thousands crammed into the cathedral for the ceremony, so the platforms proved handy. Along the nave a raised walkway had been built so the grand procession could be visible. This was no shabby affair. The cathedral was covered in ‘ryche hanginges’ and two sumptuous chairs were placed in the quire where Mary and Philip would sit during points of the ceremony. As the officiating herald recorded,

‘First the said Church was richlie hanged with Arras and cloath of gold, and there was a stage made along the bodie of the Churche that is to saie from the west dore untill the Rode Lofte wheare was a mounte made of iiii degrees of height as large as the place wold serue. The Stage and Mounte covered with Redd saie and underneath the Rode Loft was there ii trauerses made, one for the quenes Matie. on the right hand an other for the Prince on the left side. The which places served very well for that purpose. The quier was aloft hung with rich cloath of gold, and on eche side the high Aulter was there a rich Trauers one for the queen on the right side another for the Prince on the left Side.’

None of the rich cloth that adorned the cathedral has survived. Yet, if you go into the Triforium Gallery (in the South Transept) you will see ‘Mary Tudor’s Chair’. This sixteenth-century seat was allegedly the one used by Mary during her wedding.

Remarkably, throughout the ceremony Mary was placed on the right and Philip on the left, a reversal of the traditional situation. Mary presented herself as the active monarch with Philip as her consort. Naturally this caused some murmurs though, on the whole, both English and Spanish commentators explained away this situation and presented it as perfectly normal.

Bishop Gardiner began with a sermon, then asked the congregation whether anyone knew of any lawful impendent why the pair could not marry which, thankfully, no one decided to provide. Mary had no father to give her away and in theory she was to be given on behalf of the whole realm. The Marquis of Winchester and the earls of Arundel, Derby, Bedford and Pembroke, represented the people and answered Gardiner’s request as to who was to give the lady away. When they replied that they represented the whole realm, the crowd gave a cheer and acknowledged their acceptance of the marriage. Rings were then exchanged – Mary famously asking for a plain band – and Philip gave Mary gold coins which she handed over to Margaret Clifford (her first cousin once removed), who was attending upon her. They then celebrated mass at the High Altar. The ceremony was over; now it was time for ‘triumphing, bankating, singing, masking, and daunsing, as was never seen in Englande heretofore’.

Whilst in the cathedral make sure to check out Stephen Gardiner’s tomb. Unfortunately his effigy was spoiled by parliamentary troops in the seventeenth-century. The magnificent tomb of Cardinal Henry Beaufort, is relatively intact. Beaufort was the son of John of Gaunt by his mistress, then wife, Katherine Swynford. He was the great-uncle of Margaret Beaufort, Mary’s great-grandmother. Mary’s paternal grandmother, Elizabeth of York, is represented in a stained glass window in the beautiful Lady Chapel (which also features some amazing sixteenth-century murals).

Bishop Gardiner's tomb

Bishop Gardiner’s effigy which has been beheaded

The cathedral charges a small fee for entrance and photography is free (though prohibited in the library). It was one of the friendliest cathedrals I have ever been to and it is easy to spend hours in there. Jane Austen, one of my favourite authors, is buried in the Nave. Austen once remarked of Mary:

‘This woman had the good luck of being advanced to the throne of England, inspite of the superior pretensions, Merit & Beauty of her Cousins Mary Queen of Scotland & Jane Grey. Nor can I pity the Kingdom for the misfortunes they experienced during her Reign, since they fully deserved them, for having allowed her to succeed her Brother — which was a double piece of folly, since they might have foreseen that as she died without Children, she would be succeeded by that disgrace to humanity, that pest of society, Elizabeth. Many were the people who fell martyrs to the protestant Religion during her reign; I suppose not fewer than a dozen. She married Philip King of Spain who in her Sister's reign for [sic] famous for building the Armadas. She died without issue, & then the dreadful moment came in which the destroyer of all comfort, the deceitful Betrayer of trust reposed in her, & the Murderess of her Cousin succeeded to the Throne – '

Wolvesey Palace (aka ‘Wolvesey Castle’ and the ‘Old Bishop’s Palace’)

Wolvesey Palace is a short walk from the cathedral. Only ruins are left, but it is still worth exploring. For it was here, on the 23 July 1554, that Mary and Philip met for the first time. Philip arrived in Winchester on the same date, and moved into the dean’s house. Mary had only recently settled in the palace. Dressed in a ‘cloke of blacke cloth embrodred with silver, and a paire of white hose’, Philip proceeded to the palace with a huge retinue. Mary was waiting on the constructed platform which she ‘descended, and amiably receaving him, did kisse him in presence of all the people’. After what must have been a somewhat uncomfortable first meeting, witnessed by a large crowd, the couple retired to the presence chamber with prominent lords and ladies in attendance. One of the first challenges was figuring out how to communicate. As a young girl, Mary had been fluent in her mother’s native tongue. Now, she was no longer confident in her Spanish. So Mary spoke French whilst Philip replied in Spanish. They talked for some fifteen minutes after which Philip returned to his apartments. Before retiring he turned to the noblemen present and declared “Good night my Lords all”. It was the first and last time he spoke English. One of his companions alleged that he returned to the palace at ten at night, where the pair met once more, this time with fewer witnesses.[1]

The East Hall (the audience chamber). The wedding banquet was held here.

The palace was also the scene of the banquet and celebrations that commenced after the marriage service. Mary spent the first days of married life in seclusion (as was seen appropriate) and it is probable that she remained within the palace.

The palace is now owned by English Heritage and is free to enter. The presence chamber is clearly marked; walking through the main archway, it is situated in front of you.

Great Hall and Round Table

In 1522, Charles V visited England for six weeks. During the course of his stay, a betrothal was arranged between himself and the six-year-old Mary. As his arrival was celebrated in London, Henry VIII decided to take Charles to Winchester so he may see ‘King Arthur’s round table’. The table was constructed in the thirteenth-century by Edward III and painted in c.1516-7 (hence why King Arthur looks so like Henry!). Mary and Philip stayed in Winchester for several days after their wedding, and it is unknown whether Philip was show the table. However whilst Mary remained in seclusion following the wedding, Philip toured Winchester and it seems highly likely that he saw the town’s star attraction. The Great Hall remains a popular tourist site. Free to enter, it contains a magnificent set of nineteenth-century stained glass windows depicting the arms of individuals of importance to Winchester. Mary and Philip’s are included.

The Great Hall is free to enter and photography is permitted.

Westgate Museum

Westgate, one of the two surviving medieval fortified gateways in the city, is now a small museum and holds some interesting items. John White, Warden of Winchester College from 1542 to 1554, commissioned a splendid painted ceiling for his apartments that may have been ordered to celebrate Mary’s marriage. Mary and Philip visited the College after their wedding though it is unknown whether they saw the ceiling, or if it was specially made for the occasion.

Following conservation, the panels were given to the museum. Westgate also holds a portrait of Ralph Lamb, a wealthy resident of Winchester, who attended the wedding. The portrait is by an unknown Spanish artist and dates to c.1554, thus was commissioned to mark the event. He is probably depicted in the attire he wore for the occasion.

The museum is free to enter provides spectacular views of the city from the open rooftop.

[1] It is often stated that only one meeting took place. However one of Philip’s companions, Juan de Figueroa, mentioned another meeting at night.

(I have been working on the content for the Mary bibliography site, mentioned in my last post. I am not particularly computer savvy, so if anyone could give me some tips about which site I should use to create the website, I would be very grateful. Preferably something that I will find easy to use!)

Some updates

2010-08-23T07:50:00.000-07:00

Apologies for the lack of updates. I am currently writing my dissertation (due in less than a month!) and the last weeks have been dedicated to this alone. When I have [finally] finished it, I will discuss some of my findings here as I came across some intriguing information.

Giles Tremlett, The Guardian's Spain correspondent, has written a biography on Katherine of Aragon. He will be attending the Cheltenham Literature Festival (16th October), which I attend annually so I should be able to go. If you can’t make it to Cheltenham, don’t fear – Mr Tremlett will also be speaking at Hampton Court Palace on 11th November. Fellow HRP members, we can get a bit of discount on tickets.

Its early days yet, but I have decided to start a new site which will, hopefully, be of use to students and nonstudents alike. It will basically be a bibliography of works on Mary, cataloguing books, articles, PhD and MA theses. I will divide studies up into sections (so a list of biographies, of works relating to the Marian Church, Marian government, art under Mary, music, etc...). I may even develop this further by adding primary sources as this summer I have worked extensively in the British Library and the National Archive and have become familiar with documents relating to Mary between the years c.1533-1553 (a little give away about the time frame of my dissertation!). I would love feedback about this. If you feel such a site would be useful, please say; if you think it is pointless, tell me. I have got lists of works saved on my computer for my own use but if this will prove useful to anyone else, student and other Mary enthusiasts, then I will gladly post them. I also have a number of magazine articles that I could post there. I will provide links to journal articles, including those that do not require subscriptions to see (which are, admittedly, just a handful!). So please tell me what you think. In the meantime, if someone is working on a Mary related project now and needs some guidance with reading materials, don’t hesitate to contact me.

A Mary themed tour of London!

2010-08-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

I moved to London last September and sadly will be leaving this lovely city in two months time when my degree finishes. But I have made great use of my time here, visiting all those spots which I failed to before. Fortunately I grew up less than two hours away from London and visiting frequently allowed me to become familiar with the capital before I decided to study here. But there were still places I failed to visit, including those associated with Mary. Many visitors to London wish to spend their time at the famous landmarks and with a limited time in the capital this is entirely understandable. But there are other areas which are rather neglected and worth a visit too – some are even free to enter (a rarity in London!). So here is a brief list. Just to point out some were not part of London in Mary’s day but are now, so I’m counting places that constitute today’s city.

1. Greenwich

As the place of Mary’s birth, Greenwich fully deserves it places on this list of Mary related London sites. The palace where she was born (also the birthplace of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I) and the adjoining Church of the Observant Friars where she was christened are long gone. But Greenwich is still a great tourist hotspot. The Discover Greenwich centre has recently opened and various sixteenth-century artefacts are on display (though the focus is very much on Henrician and Elizabethan Greenwich). The park, where Henry VIII often went hunting, was a familiar site to Mary. Be sure to check out St Alfege Church which is about 5 minutes from Cutty Sark tube station. Though much amended since Mary’s day it is the burial place of the great sixteenth-century composer, Thomas Tallis, who served in the Chapel Royal under Henry VIII, Edward VI, Mary and Elizabeth. The church also holds the ‘Tallis keyboard’ which contains several sixteenth-century keys that were allegedly played by Tallis and the princesses Mary and Elizabeth.

The 'Tallis Keyboard'

2. St Margaret’s Church, Westminster

Located right by the abbey, this church admittedly has little in connection to Mary. But it is worth going in to see the stained glass window depicting a young Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. The window was commissioned by Henry VIII in the 1520s and was given as a gift to Waltham abbey, but shortly after the break from Rome it was confiscated by the King and placed in the chapel at Beaulieu. Beaulieu, otherwise known as New Hall, was one of the properties Mary inherited from her father and was one of her favourite residences. So the window was once her property and something she would have known well. It was relocated to St Margaret’s in the eighteenth-century. Entrance is free but photography is not allowed.

Detail of Katherine of Aragon in the stained glass window in St Margaret's

3. The National Portrait Gallery

Though small, the Tudor galleries in the NPG are a delight. See the c.1544 portrait of Mary – the first portrait she commissioned of herself, to mark her re-inclusion in the succession. There is also a miniature of Mary by Lucas Horenbout which depicts her wearing a brooch with her then betrothed’s name on it (Emperor Charles V). Room one is a collection of portraits of Mary’s family – a posthumous portrait of her mother can be found here, along with a fabulous painting of Katherine Parr that was misidentified as Lady Jane Grey for many years. But no Tudor gallery would be complete without a portrait of Henry VIII and by Holbein no less. Holbein’s preparatory drawing of the King for the Whitehall Mural is one of the first items you see when you enter the room. Ironically the portrait of Mary is almost directly opposite one of her victims – Thomas Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury. Entrance is free. Make sure to go next door into The National Gallery (also free) and see the Holbein portrait of Christina of Denmark, Mary’s cousin once removed and at one point a possible stepmother when Henry attempted to negotiate a marriage with the widowed Christina in the late 1530s. Luckily Christina eluded him.

4. All Hallows by the Tower

The oldest church in the City of London, All Hallows name partly derives from its proximity to the Tower of London. Fortunately it is one of the only churches in the city that survived the ghastly fire of 1666 primarily because it was so close to the Tower (which was full to the brim of ammunition which meant the authorities did everything they could to keep the fire away). Mary had no direct connection with the place but it is believed that one of the most ardent defenders of her parents’ marriage, John Fisher, bishop of Rochester (St John Fisher), was buried there following his execution in 1535. The chapel of St Peter ad Vincula within the Tower is well known as the burial ground of condemned traitors but All Hallows served as an alternative resting place. Who else connected to Mary was buried here remains a mystery; perhaps various individuals she sent to their deaths? The church is also worth visiting for its connections to William Penn (who was baptised here), and John Quincy Adams who married here in 1797. The church is free to enter and photography is permitted.

Alleged site of Bishop Fisher's resting place.

5. Old Chelsea Church, London

Chelsea Manor, a grand house owned by various prominent individuals including Sir Thomas More, is long gone though the church remains. Most of the church was destroyed by bombing in WWII yet the More chapel remained. Jane Dudley, duchess of Northumberland who, ironically, Mary was close to and was godmother to at least one of her children, is buried here. It was at Chelsea Manor that Jane Grey was told of Edward VI’s death; Anne of Cleves, Mary’s stepmother, died here in July 1557. The property was also owned by Katherine Parr who settled here after Henry VIII’s death with her stepdaughter and Mary’s sister, Elizabeth, in her care. The church is free to enter and photography is permitted.

Image of Jane Dudley, duchess of Northumberland on her tomb

6. Whitehall

Virtually nothing remains of the impressive palace Henry constructed. It was the grandest palace he owned and special lodgings for Mary were constructed there in the 1540s. Henry died here in January 1547 and in 1554 it was the scene of Cardinal Reginald Pole’s public reception by Mary and her husband Philip; Pole’s arrival signified the official proceedings that reunited England with the Catholic Church. ‘Henry VIII’s wine cellar’, the last remnant of his palace, is located in the basement of the Ministry of Defence.

7. Guildhall

A definite must see. It was here, in 1554, that Mary rallied the citizens of London against the rebels of Wyatt’s uprising that attempted to take the city. Jane Grey was condemned to death here in 1554 along with her husband Guilford Dudley, his brothers Henry and Ambrose, and the archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer (though Cranmer would later be tried for heresy and sentenced to death on these charges). The present Guildhall was built between 1411 and 1430 though was affected by both the fire of 1666 and bombing in WWII. One single window survived the blast – when entering the hall it is on the immediate right. There is a plaque in the hall commemorating notable trials that took place, listing several that occurred during Mary’s reign. Make sure to go into the crypts to check out the medieval foundations and a nineteenth-century stained glass window depicting Sir Thomas More.

Guildhall

8. Westminster Hall

The oldest part of the Palace of Westminster, the hall was built in 1097 intending to be a place for banquets. The hall later served several functions, including becoming the scene of many famous trials. In 1553 Mary’s opponent, John Dudley, duke of Northumberland, was tried for treason here and a year later the duke of Suffolk, father to Lady Jane Grey, was condemned to death for his involvement in Wyatt’s rebellion. On 1st October, Mary proceeded into the hall in full regalia shortly after her coronation ceremony. She subsequently presided over her magnificent coronation banquet which lasted for some hours. It goes without saying that security is tight and queues long. Photography is permitted in only the hall.

Westminster Hall

9. The Tower of London

The Tower of London is one of those places which everyone has to visit at least once. Well maybe twice. Or three times; or even four, and maybe.... well, lets just say that despite the absurdly high entrance fee it must be seen. Mary’s allies and enemies spent time in this gloomy fortress and she resided her briefly before her coronation as was the custom. Most of these condemned individuals were executed outside on Tower Hill (right by the tube station of the same name), though of the few executed within, on Tower Green, Mary could claim connections. Two of her stepmothers lost their lives here (Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard) as well as her long-term governess, supporter and relation, Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury. It was also the site of an execution carried out on her orders – the beheading of Lady Jane Grey. Elizabeth, Mary’s sister, would famously spend time here, after she was accused of complicity in Wyatt’s rebellion. As mentioned, entrances prices are high and if you are thinking of visiting on a frequent basis I recommend applying for membership. For £41 a year you can visit the Tower (and Hampton Court Palace) to your heart’s content.

The Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula

10. Southwark Cathedral and Winchester Palace

During Mary’s reign, trials for heresy were held in the Retro-Choir, the oldest part of the cathedral. The trials were overseen by Stephen Gardiner bishop of Winchester, for the cathedral was then under his authority. The first individual burnt for heresy during Mary’s reign – John Rogers – was condemned here, as was Bishop John Hooper who was sent back to his diocese of Gloucester to die. There is no entrance fee but if you wish to take photos there is a very small charge.

Though only a few ruins remain, Winchester Palace is still a place to visit. It located less than 10 minutes from Southwark Cathedral so it is best to see both during one trip. It was the seat of Stephen Gardiner, who was also Lord Chancellor under Mary. According to one contemporary, Gardiner entertained Henry VIII and Katherine Howard at this residence during Henry’s attempts to annul his marriage to Anne of Cleves, facilitating his union with Katherine (Mary’s fourth stepmother).

Southwark Cathedral

11. Smithfield

Today known for the meat market, Smithfield was once a notorious place of execution. In Mary’s day it was a cattle and horse market, which also served as a venue for public burnings of heretics. During Mary’s reign, seven Protestants were sent to their deaths here including John Rogers, John Cardmaker, John Bradford, John Philpot, Thomas Tompkins, John Warne and John Leafe. Rogers was the first Protestant to die on charges of heresy during Mary’s reign and his courageous example was regarded as inspirational by supporters. Offered a pardon at the execution, Rogers refused, told the crowd to be unwavering in their faith, was tied to the stake and the fire lit. Whilst the flames consumed his body he ‘washed his hands in the flame’ (Foxe, Acts and Monuments) until it covered his whole body; a symbolic act of washing away the sins. A plaque commemorating the Marian martyrs can be found on the site. When in the area be sure to go into the Priory Church of St Bartholomew the Great which contains one of only two pre-Reformation fonts in London. From 1539 the Lady Chapel served as a printing house. Benjamin Franklin once worked here (when it was Samuel Palmer's printing shop). Fans of films set in the Tudor period may find the place familiar; scenes from Shakespeare in Love and The Other Boleyn Girl were filmed here. There is a small entrance fee and photography is permitted.

Plaque for the Smithfield martyrs

12. Museum of London

A museum which, as the name suggests, charts the history of the city. The galleries of interest to Tudor enthusiasts were recently renovated. There isn’t much on Mary aside from a very small section on the London Protestant Martyrs and the Reformation, but it is still worth seeing. They also house artefacts from the long gone Nonsuch palace, which was built by Henry VIII in the 1530s. Evidently Mary knew the palace well. The museum is free to enter.

13. The Victoria and Albert Museum

The V&A does hold objects relating to the Tudors but not a vast collection. However its new renaissance wing, which provides context on the age Mary lived through, is outstanding. There are some interesting objects connected to her relatives, including a stained glass window of her aunt and her husband’s grandmother, Juana of Castile. In the British gallery there are different objects connected to the Tudors, including Henry VIII’s writing desk. Entrance is free.

Stained glass window depicting Juana of Castile commissioned for the Chapel of the Holy Blood in Bruges, c.1496

14. Westminster Abbey

No tour of places connected to Mary is complete without a visit to her resting place. Mary requested burial in the abbey and intended to have her mother’s body brought here where the two would share a grand tomb. In the end Mary did end up sharing a tomb with a female relative but not one she would have been happy to be situated next to. The grand monument to Elizabeth marks the spot of Mary’s burial. A plaque in front of the tomb reads, ‘Partners both in throne and grave, here rests we two sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, in the hope of one resurrection’. Aside from Mary and Elizabeth, two other Tudor monarchs can be found in the abbey, Henry VII and Edward VI, along with Mary’s grandmother, Elizabeth of York and her stepmother, Anne of Cleves. Cousin Frances Grey, duchess of Suffolk (Jane Grey’s mother) was also buried here as was Margaret Douglas, Countess of Lennox who Mary was rumoured to favour as her successor. Be sure to check out the abbey’s museum (entrance fee included with the ticket for the abbey) that houses Mary’s funeral effigy. It goes without saying that the ticket price is absurdly high but like the Tower it just is one of those places you have to go to. Get there early to avoid the queues!

The head of Mary's funeral effigy

Enjoy the Mary tour!

(Though I’ve stated that some places allow photography, always ask beforehand. I have not included Hampton Court Palace as that was not part of London then nor is it now, though it is located a short train ride away and is lovely to look around in summer. Eltham Palace, the childhood home of Henry VIII, is also worth a trip. Take the DLR all the way to Lewisham and from there board a train to Eltham which is about 10 minutes away).

New Year’s Gift List of 1534 & the possible portrait of Mary

2010-07-28T15:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, whilst working on my dissertation in the National Archives, I consulted one document which relates somewhat to my previous post on the possible portrait of Mary. The portrait allegedly dates to c.1535 a time which, I argued, would not make sense given Mary was in disgrace. To emphasise this further here is the New Year’s Gift list of 1534 which details gifts granted to and from the King. You will notice a blatant omission. Mary was clearly out of favour owing to her stance against Henry’s new marriage, behaviour which Henry regarded as dangerous and unruly. She was given nothing and no gift from her was accepted by him (not that she was in a sufficient financial position to get her father a gift in the first place).

(Notice Henry VIII’s signature on the top of the list. His signature can also be found at the end of the document).

The question of who would commission the portrait remains. Certainly Henry would not have ordered it. As for Mary’s supporters, would they have risked the King’s wrath by having a portrait of Mary commissioned? There is certainly no evidence of Mary sitting for a portrait from late 1533 to the summer of 1536. Could supporters have produced portraits without requiring a sitting? This idea is undermined not only by the lack of evidence of any supporter actually having such a portrait produced, but also by the French ambassador’s claims in 1541 that no image of Mary could be made without the King’s consent. Explaining why he had failed to obtain a portrait of Mary he explained, ‘no painter dare attempt it without the King’s command’. Mary would only commission her own portrait in 1544, immediately after she had been reinstated in the succession. The painting in question is one of the most familiar images of Mary.

Research into a possible portrait of Mary

2010-07-23T08:56:00.001-07:00

Back in the 1920s a portrait of a young woman was sold to Jules S. Bache in New York as 'English Princess', with the implication that the sitter was Mary. The portrait is by a unidentified Netherlandish artist and has been dated to about 1535.

The portrait is currently being examined by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY, who have labelled this as ‘Portrait of a Young Woman’ whilst they look into the credibility of the claim that it is of Mary.

If the dating of the portrait is correct – so 1535 – the implication that this is of Mary is problematic. Mary was still in disgrace by that date and thus not in a position to have her portrait taken (nor is there evidence of her sitting for such a portrait between late 1533 to mid 1536). There is a Holbein sketch dated c.1536 in the Royal Collection that is believed to be of Mary, a date which is more logical given that by the summer of that year Mary was back in her father’s favour upon her decision to recognise her demoted status and her father’s headship of the church. The situation was markedly different in 1535. Furthermore the girl appears younger than nineteen, the age Mary was throughout most of 1535.

Previous analysis of this portrait was insufficient to prove that it was of Mary. Hopefully the current investigation will determine the identity.

Thursday, 20 July 1553 – Judith and Holofernes

2010-07-20T08:31:00.000-07:00

“When the battle-line seemed fully drawn up, sacred Mary rode out from Framlingham castle about four o’clock (the day was a Thursday), to muster and inspect this most splendid and loyal army. While her majesty was approaching, the white horse which she was riding became rather more frisky at the unaccustomed sight of such an army drawn up in formation than her womanly hesitancy was prepared to risk, so she ordered her foot-soldiers, active and dutiful men, to lift up their hands to help their sovereign until she got ready to get down; obedient to their gentle mistress’s request, they brought the queen down to the ground. Once she had got down from her horse, the good princess first gave warning in an order that no harquebusier should fire his gun, nor any archer release his arrows until her majesty had inspected her army. When this order was given, such was the respect that everyone felt for their sovereign that no harquebusier nor archer fired after her command; but the soldiers bowed low to the ground and awaited their beloved mistress’s arrival with as great an obeisance as they could manage. When she came along, they offered her such reverence that I had serious doubts whether they could have given greater adoration to God if he had come down from Heaven.”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

“But be you assured, you shall never escape death; for if she [Mary] would save you those that now shall rule will kill you.”

(Edwin Sandys to the duke of Northumberland, 20 July 1553)

In her coronation procession, Mary was likened to courageous Judith who had brought about the demise of her peoples enemy, Holofernes. Fortunately Mary did not have to resort to seducing the duke of Northumberland in order to destroy him. But she procured the same result – the severed head of her opponent.

The duke had long been unpopular in certain parts of the kingdom but at least he had allies who had stood alongside him in the early days of Jane’s reign. Now, like his daughter-in-law, he had been abandoned by almost everyone. Aside from his wife and sons, few would mourn his death. Fellow members of the Privy Council were attempting to distance themselves from him and to indicate that he was responsible for Mary being denied the throne. They had decided the previous day to proclaim Mary queen in London and shortly after the announcement the earl of Arundel and Lord Paget rode to Framlingham to deliver the news to their new monarch. They would declare themselves her ‘most humble, faithful and obedient subjects’ and would beg ‘your majesty to pardon and remit our former infirmities’.

However the men did not arrive till the evening and before then Mary believed she would need to take the capital by force. Her soldiers were called for an inspection. Evidently she had been able to gather an impressive display of arms. ‘The infantry made ready their pikes, the cavalry brandished lances, the archer bent his bow, and girded on his quiver, the harquebusier filled his weapon with powder’, and all men stood in place not moving ‘a finger’s breadth from position’. At four o’clock she rode out though a restless horse lead her to inspect her troops on foot. She spoke to the men for some time, treating them ‘with exceptional kindness’. But perhaps most importantly she was recorded as adopting a relaxed approach, investing in her men a sense of confidence they would prove victorious. As soon as she got back on her horse to ride away, a large section of the cavalry ‘suddenly streamed forth and beat and trod the ground with such a thunderous noise and spread so widely through the field that it seemed like one enemy in pursuit of another’.

The day would only prove to get better. Arriving back in the castle she was told that the Privy Council had declared her queen and London was the scene of much rejoicing. This was confirmed in the same evening when Arundel and Paget arrived and begged for her clemency. Then came others equally remorseful. Amongst them were two men from the duke’s army, Sir John Clere and Lord Clinton. Richard Rich, the man infamous for his involvement in the downfall of Sir Thomas More and his ability to change allegiance without much concern, also arrived later that evening.

The duke was also informed on this date of the turn of events. Along with his son, John Dudley, Sir John Gates and the earl of Huntington he went to the marketplace in Cambridge, threw his cap in the air, scattered coins in celebration, and called for Queen Mary. Having done his duty he told Edwin Sandys, one of the few men who hadn’t deserted him, that he hoped Mary would prove merciful and spare him as she would the other councillors. When the earl of Arundel came to arrest him only a few days later, he posed the same question and asked the earl to intervene for him. “My Lord, you should have sought for mercy sooner”, was the only response he was met with.

(Top image - Reenactment of Mary’s inspection of her troops at Framlingham. Photo taken by Malcolm R Bell and posted on his Flickr account)

(Bottom image – Judith with the Head of Holofernes by Massimo Stanzione, c.1630-35. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY)

Wednesday, 19 July 1553 – Victory

2010-07-19T16:30:00.000-07:00

“.. the xix. day of the same monyth, was st Margarettes evyne, at iiij. of clocke at after-none was proclamyd lady Ma[ry to] be qwene of Ynglond at the crose in Cheppe with the erle of Shrewsbery, the earle [of Arundel], the erle of Pembroke, with the mayer of London, and dyvers other lordes, and many of the ald[dermen] and the kynges schrffe master Garrand, with dyvers haroldes and trompettes. And from thens cam to Powlles alle, and there the qwere sange Te Deum with the organs goynge, with the belles ryngynge, the most parte alle [London], and that same nyght had the [most] parte of London Te Deum, with bone-fyers in every strete in London, with good chere at every bone [fyer], the belles ryngynge in every parych cherch, and for the most parte alle nyght tyll the nexte daye to none.”

(The Chronicle of the Grey Friars of London, 1553).

“We your most humble, faithful and obedient subjects having always (God we take to witness) remained your Highness’s true and humble subjects in our hearts ever since the death of our late sovereign lord and master, your highness’s brother whom God pardon; and seeing hitherto no possibility to utter our determination herein without great destruction and bloodshed both of ourselves and others till this time, have this day proclaimed in your city of London your majesty to be our true, natural sovereign liege lady and queen, most humbly beseeching your majesty to pardon and remit our former infirmities and most graciously to accept our meanings which have been ever to serve your highness truly.”

(Council’s message to Mary, 19 July 1553)

Sometime in the late morning of the 19th the earls of Arundel and Pembroke, standing before the rest of the Privy Council, managed to convince the same body of men to abandon Jane and proclaim Mary queen. It was not a particularly difficult task given that many of these men congregated in Baynard’s Castle were quite willing to switch sides. Days earlier some had tried to flee the Tower to rush to Mary and offer their allegiance but had been prevented from doing so. Now they discussed terms. They would submit completely to Mary’s will, profess themselves her true subjects and attribute Jane’s accession to the ambition of the Lord President of the Council – the duke of Northumberland.

The earl of Pembroke’s desperation in securing the council’s approval for Mary was evident. “If the arguments of my lord Arundel do not persuade you, this sword shall make [her] queen, or I will die in her quarrel”, he threatened. The earl of Arundel was equally assertive in his desire to present himself as one of Mary’s most ardent supporters and in a speech before the Council he explained away his previous loyalty to Jane as a product of fear caused by the duke’s threats. Both men were now committed supporters of Mary and were determined to protect their lands, positions and lives. One contemporary noted on the same day that he saw ‘the earl of Pembroke threw away his cap full of angellettes [jewels]’ in the street after Mary had been professed queen.

The reaction of the populace was positive. Mary’s accession was announced by the earl of Pembroke in the late afternoon and there were scenes of wild rejoicing. Merchant Henry Machyn recorded in his diary that ‘all the belles ryngyng thrugh London, and bone-fyres, and tabuls in evere strett, and wyne and bere and alle, and evere strett full of bonfyres, and ther was money cast a-way.’ At Leadenhall Street, one of the sites in London where Mary’s accession was proclaimed, the ‘people started running in all directions and crying out’. On the same street Sir John York, a loyal supporter of Jane’s, allegedly ‘cried out to the people that it was not true’ and was met with fierce hostility. ‘Though he was on horse-back he escaped alive with difficulty and was taken into the house of Sheriff Garrett’, it was remarked.

Before the announcement was made the imperial ambassadors were informed by the earl of Shrewsbury and John Mason of the Council's decision to support Mary. Throughout the events of the past two weeks, the ambassadors had assumed that Mary’s cause was a hopeless one if her cousin, Charles V, would not intervene on her behalf. Now they were being told of her victory accomplished without their aid. Shortly afterwards the mayor of London was summoned to Baynard’s castle and also informed of the decision so he could quickly prepare the festivities. The drinking, the banquets and the ringing of the bells would go on through the night, only calming down midday on the 20th.

Mary would not know till the following day that her claim to the throne was now recognised by the Council and she had the capital. The possibility that she would have to take the Crown by force – that she would need to enact the role of warrior queen – was one she believed she now faced. Her maternal grandmother, another queen regnant, had faced her own succession crisis and emerged victorious. Isabella of Castile had been married at the point of her accession and her husband had played a role in securing her throne. In contrast Mary was unmarried though she did have male associates whose loyalty was unquestionable and she trusted to lead her forces. As a woman, Mary could not lead her troops into battle though like her grandmother she still had a role to play. She organised an inspection of her troops that would take place the next day and consulted with her commanders. According to Robert Wingfield she would spend several hours speaking to and inspecting her troops which won her much admiration. All this was entirely new to Mary; her education as a young girl, when she was still heir to the throne, had not entailed lessons in warfare and she was certainly not taught this after Henry VIII had disinherited her. But Mary knew how to make use of the sentiments of loyalty many felt for her and in all things she was meticulous, a habit she inherited from her paternal grandfather, a Tudor who also battled his way to the throne. With the temerity of Isabella of Castile and Henry VII, Mary planned her military campaign. Fortunately she would face no battle but she would make show of her forces when she marched to London to be received as queen.

The other woman at the centre of this succession crisis was told in the evening that she was no longer queen. Her father, the duke of Suffolk, did the honours. He ripped down the cloth of estate and announced that she was no longer ‘Queen Jane’. She responded that this was a wise decision and allegedly asked if she could go home. There was no anger over the decision to recognise Mary nor did she breakdown. Jane had accepted the throne graciously and admitted defeat in the same fashion. As various men who once served her rushed off to Framlingham to pay homage to Mary and beg for their lives, Jane waited in the Tower, her royal residence now turned her prison. Now all waited to see whether Mary would prove merciful or whether she was truly her father’s daughter.

(Image - Queen Mary I enthroned and flanked by angels with the destruction of the duke of Northumberland and the rebels depicted in the background to the right. Coram Rege Rolls, 1553. KB 27/1168/2)

Tuesday, 18 July 1553 – Et tu, Brute?

2010-07-18T11:08:00.000-07:00

“And if you will ponder all these matters without passion of selfishness, you will recognise that they are unbearable and blameworthy. I believe that you know well enough the ways and means that the Duke is using to reduce to subjection this Kingdom and that he is not moved either by zeal of the public welfare nor of the Religion, but only by the ambition to rule because to enslave a free Kingdom cannot be regarded as caring for the public welfare, nor can he be called religious who has violated the faith due to his King.”

(Earl of Arundel’s speech to the Privy Council convincing them to abandon Jane Grey and blame the affair on the duke of Northumberland, 19 July 1553)

“And consider that I have done nothing but by the consents of you and all the whole council.”

(The duke of Northumberland’s remarks to the earl of Arundel upon his arrest on 20 July 1553)

As the duke of Northumberland left Cambridge for Bury St Edmunds on the morning of the 18th, his colleagues back in London were preparing to betray him. It now seemed obvious that Jane’s cause was all but lost and they had their properties, positions and their lives to consider. Regardless of this understandable desire to safeguard all they held dear, there is something distinctly unpleasant about this whole affair. Even Mary’s most ardent admirers, pleased as they were by this abandonment of Jane, were uncomfortable with this treachery. As Robert Wingfield reported, the duke was ‘so ill-served by his followers’. The men in question chose not only to reject Jane’s cause but also to find someone to blame for this all mess – a scapegoat who could easily be discarded. And that was of course the duke.

The earls of Arundel and Pembroke were now residing in Baynard’s Tower and were joined by others including William Paget. Despite discussions about switching to Mary’s side, the Council itself was still, officially at least, for Jane and were sending letters urging local gentry to suppress Mary’s forces. Robert Dudley called again for Jane at King’s Lynn on this date and even Jane wrote to some, including John Brydges and Sir Nicholas Poyntz of Gloucestershire, requiring them to continue to fight in her name. But their efforts were in vain. Now the men who helped to place Jane on the throne were busy discussing a way to negotiate with Mary and save themselves in the process. They were entirely innocent, they claimed. They had supported Jane not out of their own free will, succumbing instead to the duke’s threats and lies. They were merely the victims of the wicked duke’s ambition. No longer was Edward VI responsible for the alterations to the succession. It was the vile, tyrannical and traitorous duke who wished to see the advancement of his own line. They had always loved Mary and were now taking a stand. Conveniently this demonstration of loyalty took place after Mary had won the royal fleets, commanded numerous forces and won the support of various counties.

The following day the earl of Arundel would make a speech calling on the Council to proclaim Mary queen in London. Though made on the 19th, the ideas within the speech were evidently formed in the last days of Jane’s days. The earl had been one of the duke’s closest allies and had offered felicitous words when the duke left London to face Mary’s supporters. How quickly he now changed his views. He felt compelled to “speak against the Duke of Northumberland, a man of supreme authority and who disposes of all our armies, and also desirous of bloodshed as vell as unhampered by scruples.”
This man, he claimed,

“endeavoured to put me to death with such perverse wickedness, as your goodselves have witnessed, but only the concern for the public weal and the freedom of this Kingdom, to which it is our duty to attend more than to our own welfare. At the same time my conscience was burdened with remorse considering how the rights of My Lady Mary, true heir to this Crown, were usurped and that we have been robbed of that liberty which we have enjoyed so long under the rule of our legitimate Kings. And if you will ponder all these matters without passion of selfishness, you will recognise that they are unbearable and blameworthy. I believe that you know well enough the ways and means that the Duke is using to reduce to subjection this Kingdom and that he is not moved either by zeal of the public welfare nor of the Religion, but only by the ambition to rule because to enslave a free Kingdom cannot be regarded as caring for the public welfare, nor can he be called religious who has violated the faith due to his King.”

The duke would learn of the Council’s decision to call for Mary on the 20th – the day after the Council proclaimed her queen and the same day Mary learnt of the news. When she heard she was naturally delighted and she would send the earl of Arundel to arrest the duke and take him to the Tower. It was a calculated choice. Now the betrayer faced the man he deserted – a brilliant act deemed to test the earl’s loyalty to herself whilst making him face the consequences of his actions. And, of course, to taunt him with an example of what she would do to those who were the subject of her displeasure.

(Image - Portrait of Henry Fitzalan, 12th Earl of Arundel by unknown artist, 1560s. NPG, London)

Monday, 17 July 1553 – Dying days of Jane’s reign

2010-07-17T09:31:00.000-07:00

O ye counsellors, why did ye me advance,
To a queen’s estate, full sore against my mind,
Assuring me it was my just inheritance.
Now, contrary to your suggestion, I perceive and find
All was in vain, your wits were too blind
Me to delude against the form of law;
Forsooth, you were to blame, and all not worth a straw.

Your creeping and kneeling to me, poor innocent
Brought me to weening with your persuasions
That all was truth which you untruly meant.
Such were your arguments, such were your reasons
Made to me sundry times and seasons
Your subtle dealing deceived hath both you and me.
Dissimulation will not serve, now may you see.

(George Cavendish’s tragical poem from the perspective of Jane Grey, c.1553)

After Mary was declared queen, William Cecil – the future Lord Burghley and renowned Elizabethan minister – claimed that he held doubts regarding the legitimacy of Edward VI’s alterations to the succession but was convinced to support Jane. Though he did not flee London on this date to pay homage to her, he started to entertain ideas of escape. His man, Richard Troughton, was ordered to have horses ready for him at Royston. When he felt the time was right, namely when the council in London completely abandoned Jane, he would flee and beg Mary to forgive him. Fortunately his sister-in-law, Lady Anne Bacon, was one of Mary’s former ladies and would become a gentlewoman of her Privy Chamber. A pardon was secured.

His decision to contemplate abandoning Jane was not unique. The earls of Arundel and Pembroke had fled the Tower to Pembroke’s residence, Baynard’s Tower, and were now discussing whether to support Mary. It was from this location that two days later they would agree with the rest of the Council that Jane’s cause was lost.

In France, the duke’s kinsman, Henry Dudley, was at the French court attempting to convince King Henri II to recognise Jane as queen and promise military aid if Mary’s cousin, Charles V, chose to intervene on her behalf. Talks with the French had extended back to before Edward VI’s death, but the duke needed to ensure that Henri would not advance his daughter-in-law, Mary, Queen of Scots as a rival candidate or show indifference to the idea of Charles invading England. In fact Charles had no aspirations to do this; he was far more preoccupied with other affairs including his war with France which lead, on this date, to his troops capturing the town of Hesdin. Still Jane’s supporters needed to know that they had an ally in case the worst occurred. The duke was also vigilant of appearing too needy. Henry Dudley was to make it clear that England didn’t need France’s help unless Charles made a move. Henry Dudley was still talking over terms with King Henri by the 19th, the day Mary was proclaimed queen in London.

Sometime in the last days of Jane’s reign, various parts of Devonshire called for Mary. At first this may not seem that surprising given that areas of the south-west remained attached to conservative religious practices. In 1549 Edward’s government had faced a rebellion in the south-west against the changes in the Church, an uprising which some accused Mary of being complicit in. The Council asked her plainly whether certain of her servants had left her household to join her rebellion. She staunchly denied that she or her household had anything to do with this and though the Council believed her they retorted that her blatant Catholicism had meant she was a natural figurehead for the rebels. Yet in these past days, Mary’s support base had been focused predominately in the areas where she held most estates and where she was based – the south-east of the country. Now support for Mary was proclaimed elsewhere. Sir Peter Carew of Mohun's Ottery, Devon felt ‘allegaunce to his naturall Prince [Mary]’ and ‘dyd cause the sayd Lady Marye to be proclaymed Queene in too markett townes neere to the place where he then dwelled – the one in Dartemouthe, and th’other at Newton Abbot’. With most of the south-west and now areas of the south-east calling for Mary, the capital was the next target. Mary believed that London would need to be taken by force and as late as the 20th she was preparing her troops for battle. Fortunately her precautions were unnecessary; it would not take a battle to cause London to call for Mary.

(Image - Portrait of Sir Peter Carew by Gerlach Flicke. National Gallery of Scotland)

Sunday, 16 July 1553 – Mary’s forces ‘mershe forth towards’ Westminster

2010-07-16T11:55:00.000-07:00

“The xvjth daye of July the lorde highe treasurer was going to his howse in London at night, and about vij. of the clocke the gates of the Tower upon a sudden was shut, and the keyes caryed upp to the quene Jane; but what the cause was I knowe not. The noyes in the Tower was that ther was a seale lacking; but many men thought they surmysed that but the truthe was she feared some packinge in the lorde treasurer, and so they dyd fetch him at xvj. of the clocke in the night from his house in London into the Tower.”

(Nichols, The Chronicle of Queen Jane, and of Two Years of Queen Mary)

Mary now had the loyalty of the royal fleets and reports circulated London that she controlled a sizeable force. News had reached Mary that an army of 10,000, lead by her ally Sir Edmund Peckham and complied of men ‘of the shyres of Oxforde, Buckyngham, Berks, Myddlesex’ were planning ‘to mershe forth towards the Palaice of Westminster’ in her name. The number may have been an exaggeration but if she was told of this then her enemies in London were bound to have heard this alarming piece of information. Unsurprisingly panic broke out amongst Jane’s supporters. Were they backing someone doomed to fail? Were their lands, their titles – their lives – at risk? Could Mary’s troops easily conquer London? Some men decided to go out amongst the people to understand their sentiments. Evidently those still loyal to Jane were not too happy about such early signs of desertion and attempted to prevent some from testing the public mood. The lord treasurer and lord lieutenant of Hampshire and the Isle of Wight, William Paulet, marquess of Winchester, tried to escape from the Tower where Jane and the Privy Council were stationed, to his London residence. However Jane’s men discovered what he was up to and ‘dyd fetch him at xij of the clocke in the night’. The earl of Arundel and earl of Pembroke would later prove more successful. The same day Jane’s father, the duke of Suffolk, whom the duke of Northumberland had left in charge during his absence, ordered Sir Thomas Cawarden to supply tents for the troops that had been brought in to guard the Tower where the queen dwelt. Letters proclaiming Mary as a wicked subject who was leading others into rebellion and spreading such ‘traitorous sundry untrue reports’ about Jane were drawn up by the Council and sent off to all the counties. It was a last-ditch effort that was simply ignored in various areas.

The duke still had the majority of the peers in the realm on his side. He also still commanded a large army and his son, Robert, was successful in securing the loyalty of King’s Lynn where he was stationed with his troops. He had also secured Thetford for Jane. But Mary was gaining support in a number of counties. The report concerning Peckham’s army of 10,000 indicates that he had men from Oxfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Berkshire and Middlesex. Mary also received significant support in Norfolk and Suffolk, and she had allies operating in the Thames Valley. Now there was uneasy in London – in the heart of what was supposed to be Jane’s territory.

From the time Jane was proclaimed queen in London her supporters had been busy presenting arguments to the people about the righteousness of her rule and the unsuitability of Mary. Despite events developing in Mary’s favour, the most ardent of Jane’s supporters continued to uphold her claim. On this day in London, the bishop of the city, Nicholas Ridley, preached at Paul’s Cross and told the citizens that Mary was ‘not lawfully begotten in the estate of good matrimony according to God’s law’ and thus had no right to become queen. Once again the matter of her religion was raised and yet again the people were not convinced. They were, we all told, ‘sore annoyed with his words’ and thought him uncharitable. But they also may have been scared for they heard that a great force was heading their way and though they had not shown rapturous support for Jane, they had also not rebelled in Mary’s name. True a letter proclaiming Mary as queen was left anonymously in St Paul’s on this date, but this was not akin to an outright uprising. When Mary’s accession was announced in London three days later, the people were said to be overjoyed. Contemporary Ralph Starkey recorded that 'the bonfires were without number and what with shouting and crying of the people, and ringing of the bells, there could no one hear almost what another said, besides banqueting and singing in the streets for joy'. Perhaps for most this joy was genuine though their fervour may have been partly motivated by a sense of concern that their actions before had bordered on indifference.

For those interested in Jane Grey be sure to check out this fantastic site: Lady Jane Grey Reference Guide Blog.

(Image - Portrait of William Paulet, first marquess of Winchester by unknown artist, 1560s. NPG, London)

Posters for 'Bloody Mary' attraction in London have been banned

2010-07-16T09:39:00.000-07:00

This month I have been posting a day to day account of Mary’s accession to the throne and later on today I will be adding my latest post on this subject. But I wanted to mention briefly something that I have raised on this blog previously. Around six or so months back I mentioned that The London Dungeons is holding an attraction entitled, ‘Bloody Mary: Killer Queen’, in which visitors will be able to:

“Enter Bloody Mary’s private chapel and witness the fanatically Catholic Queen pass judgment on petrified heretics.”

“Experience the horrifying sights, screams, smells of the most painful method of execution known to man – being slowly burnt alive.”

Living in London, I have come across several posters for this including one video advert I spotted on the underground. Historian Leanda de Lisle, who I had the pleasure of hearing speak at the National Portrait Gallery a few months back, has labelled the posters as “an example of England’s knee-jerk anti-Catholicism and how our history of the Tudor period has been distorted by post-Reformation propaganda.”

Apparently now the posters have been banned. The video advert depicted Mary turning to the viewer and her face distorting to something beastly which lead to several children being terrified and their parents contacting the Advertising Standards Authority.

For more information on the story, see this article from The Guardian :

http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/jul/14/london-dungeon-ad-asa

I will say though that for all my distaste for this tacky exhibit – which basically seeks to profit from and trivialise such tragic events – I did have a little chuckle when I saw this comment:

• Lonelysven
14 Jul 2010, 11:04AM

‘It was good of Amy Winehouse to give up her time to boost London tourism'

Saturday, 15 July 1553 – The turning point?

2010-07-15T12:20:00.000-07:00

“Very early the next day Jerningham, accompanied by Tyrrell and Glemham, rode up to inspect the ships thus brought to the haven by a lucky tide and wind, as they say. When they had reached the haven he ordered Sir Richard Brooke, the squadron’s commander, a diligent man and skilled in seamanship, to be called to him, and took him to Framlingham castle to bring news of this happy and unexpected arrival to the queen”.

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

No sooner had Edward VI died then the captains of several royal ships were given their orders to guard the east coast on behalf of Queen Jane. It was their understanding that Jane was Edward’s rightful successor so like dutiful subjects they carried out the commands. Unfortunately they received no pay for their men and as a consequence war had broken out onboard. Now, on the morning of the 15th, Sir Henry Jerningham and his men paid these ships a visit. The previous evening Jerningham had been told that several royal fleets were stationed in Orwell haven, having docked there owing to poor weather. They took a small boat and sailed to the ships and demanded that the crews called for Mary. Do you wish for the loyalty of our captains, asked the crew? ‘Yea’ was the obvious response from Jerningham. “Ye shall have theym or els we shall throwe theym to the bottom of the sea” they promised. The captains, none too fond of the notion of being plonked unceremoniously into the water, suddenly decided that they liked the sound of a ‘Queen Mary’. The overall commander, Richard Brooke, was subsequently ordered to go to Framlingham and offer the ships to Mary. Once the duke had hoped to trap Mary by providing her with no viable route out of England. Now he no longer controlled both land and sea.

In London, confusion was rife. The Imperial ambassadors reported that ‘there was trouble coming’ and ‘good men’ are ‘disgusted’ by the situation, including some members of the Privy Council. Sir Edmund Peckham, the Treasurer of the Mint had fled the city to pay homage to Mary. Lord Windsor and Sir Edward Hastings had also abandoned Jane, even though Hastings was the brother of the earl of Huntington who was then heading an army in Jane’s honour. Apparently Hastings fled to Mary after having a private conversation with his brother who revealed to him the duke’s plans to assassinate Mary. Once provided with the information he needed, he met with Peckham and the pair agreed they would desert the duke and Hastings and tell Mary of their plans. So much for brotherly love. Now men were starting to remember past grievances, however real or perceived, between themselves and Northumberland. He was a tyrant; he was a traitor. They had supported him out of fear though they had always been for Mary. They were disturbed by his ambition which, they argued, was far more significant than their own. Their only concern was for, as the earl of Arundel would argue, 'the public weal and the freedom of this Kingdom' not for the advancement of themselves and their family.

The duke, unaware of the changing attitude and such betrayal, entered Cambridge in the afternoon of the 15th. Despite the devastating loss of royal ships he still had an impressive force. So notable was the army that one contemporary in London heard that he had ‘great guns’ and ‘gunstones a great number’. Desertions by this point were small in number and the duke had taken artillery from the Tower. He was also expecting more men and would station his army in Cambridge for three days whilst his son, Robert, was in nearby King’s Lynn. Despite having a significant army it seems that Mary’s supporters were encouraging, even devising, rumours that she possessed huge forces – larger than she actually had. How influential these rumours were in persuading individuals give up on Jane and go to Framlingham offering their loyalty to Mary is debatable. Though clearly many were becoming uneasy by reports of her success and prepared to switch sides.

Mary’s standing in Norfolk and Suffolk was excellent and now Northamptonshire was showing signs of distaste for Jane’s accession. Sir Robert Tyrwhitt had raised troops for the duke there but Sir Thomas Tresham, described as ‘notable for his courage and his decent’, decided to defy his orders. At Northampton he proclaimed Mary queen and was aided by the citizens. Her position in Oxfordshire was also improving. John de Vere, sixteenth earl of Oxford came over to her cause. The story of his conversion is intriguing for, according to Wingfield’s account, the earl was won over by his servants. He had some days previously imprisoned a lawyer named Clement Tusser because the man proclaimed Mary queen and denounced Jane. The earl’s servants were ‘fully convinced that it was their duty to urge the earl to espouse and embrace Mary’s cause with all his might’. Still he had his doubts, which were enhanced when several of the duke’s allies arrived at his home to convince him to stay committed. In the end his servants adopted some zealous methods. They ‘crowded into the ample space of the castle hall and sent up deafening shouts that they recognised no other queen but Mary’. And if he would not change his mind they would ‘throw off their liveries’, thus renounce him as a master, and set out for Framlingham. We are told that the earl was ‘moved’ by such words; most likely he felt absolute horror over this defiance to his authority. The incident indicates that Mary not only held the devotion of her own servants but, remarkably, the loyalty of others.

(Image - Portrait of Edward Hastings, Baron Hastings of Loughborough by unknown artist, c.1540-43. NPG, London)

Friday, 14 July 1553 – Intrigues in an Ipswich inn

2010-07-14T12:59:00.000-07:00

“...he [Henry Jerningham] had learnt in conversation that a squadron of five ships of the late King Edward VI, laden with soldiers and weaponry, had been forced into the safety of Orwell haven by bad weather and was lying there, by some extraordinary chance, or rather, by a gale sent from heaven. The crews were in a state of great disturbance and had most courageously mutinied against their officers because of the disowning of Princess Mary; the officers were staying in this haven against their will because of the unrest among the men.”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

In a small tavern in Ipswich, at the dead of night, a group of men sat with drinks discussing current events. Henry Jerningham had been fighting passionately for Mary from day one and had been trying to secure support for her in the south-east. He had his eyes set on a particular prize. Since the death of Edward VI several royal ships was stationed around the east coast prepared to prevent attempts made by Mary to flee. Jane and her allies were still ‘strong on land and sea’, as the Imperial ambassadors put it, but what a glorious victory it would be for Mary if she won the royal fleets. But this was a difficult task. If the captains and sailors of these ships were for Jane what could Jerningham do to convince them?

Drinking with his men in this inn, Jerningham began a conversation with the owner, a Welsh man named Philip Williams. Described by Robert Wingfield as possessing ‘complete and remarkable bravery’, Williams was utterly sympathetic for Mary. But he had a greater gift than sympathy for her. Williams told Jerningham that amongst his guests was a sailor from one of the ships. The sailor told Jerningham that five ships ‘laden with soldiers and weaponry’ had been forced to station nearby in Orwell haven (another, the Greyhound, sought refuge at Lowestoft). As per usual the English summer was proving to be troublesome and the storms had forced the ships to seek shelter. Not only were they nearby and liable for a visit by Jerningham and his men but it was reported that the crew onboard were rather discontent. The rejection of Mary had not gone down well and a mutiny had occurred.

Jerningham, we are told, was not easily convinced by this news at first. After all it was too good to be true. We can’t blame him for his scepticism. For despite Wingfield’s account of the affair, namely his claims that the sailors felt sympathy for Mary and that is why they rebelled, the crew probably were more incensed about not being paid. Queen Jane or Queen Mary, it didn’t matter as long as they would receive their wages and quickly. The sailor went away leaving Jerningham to talk it over with Williams. By the morning Jerningham made up his mind and decided to credit the sailor’s words. His decision to advance – his luck in picking that tavern and at that time – would lead to a decisive point in this whole affair. Ironically on the same date, the Imperial ambassadors were writing to Charles V, telling him that Mary would likely be caught by the duke in four days time ‘unless she had sufficient force to resist’, something they thought unlikely. ‘We therefore believe she is weak’, they told Charles, and will be ruined unless you assist her.

Meanwhile Lord Wentworth had decided to back Mary after she sent two servants his way with a letter that she hoped would convince him. The earl of Sussex, whose son had been kidnapped by Sir John Huddleston, was now at Framlingham. His captured son also backed Mary and had been awarded a friendly reception upon his arrival some days back. The 14th to the 16th marked the most arrivals at Framlingham; clearly news that the duke was advancing into Cambridgeshire and other peers operating elsewhere with large forces, did not curtail the loyalty of certain supporters. The gain of Wentworth meant Mary’s hold over Suffolk was significant; she now had the lord lieutenant and the sheriff of the county (Sir Thomas Cornwallis). Many years later John Foxe claimed Mary had promised the men of Suffolk (many of whom were favourable to reform) that she would not alter the religious policies of her brother’s reign if they supported her. How truthful is this? It has been supported by some historians, including Anna Whitelock and Diarmaid MacCulloch who argue that Mary was making a pragmatic statement. If true it is an indication that Mary was fully able to be deceptive and was rather shrewd in knowing what it took to gain support. She knew that Jane’s supporters were using her Catholicism against her; now she rendered their words ineffective. Before her accession, Mary had many associates who favoured reform. Not only did she rely upon these connections for favours, whether for herself or her servants (as was mostly the case), but she regarded certain of these individuals as genuine confidants. Such was the case with Anne, Lady Bacon and Anne Seymour, duchess of Somerset. In short, despite her faith which the duke and his allies attempted to publicise and use against her, Mary was known to engage in diverse networks. Later writers like Foxe may have looked upon her promises as obviously untrue but by this time she had cultivated for herself a reputation that made such things appear possible. And simultaneously she was able to receive support from Catholics in large numbers with many believing the restoration of the ‘true religion’ would certainly come about with her accession. So the theory of Mary being the most Catholic of Catholics supported only by Catholics in July 1553 is but partly true. The story of her victory was one of connections and deceptions; of support not always based along religious lines. And, as the case of Jerningham in the Ipswich inn shows, it is a story that contains a generous amount of sheer luck.

(Image - River Otwell. Photo taken from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/barrycross56/3130802652/in/set-72157611554114194/)

Thursday, 13 July 1553 – Doubts about ‘Queen Jane’?

2010-07-13T14:30:00.000-07:00

“By this tyme newes was brought that sir John Williams was also proclamyng quene Mary in Oxfordeshire. From that tyme forwarde certayne of the counsayll, that is, the erle of Penbroke and the lorde warden sought to go out of the Tower to consult in London, but could not as yet.”

(J.G. Nichols, The Chronicle of Queen Jane, and of Two Years of Queen Mary)

A week had passed since Edward VI’s death and Mary still did not have the throne. But things were looking up. John Williams, sheriff of Oxfordshire and Berkshire, had declared Mary queen in Oxfordshire and had amassed a significant force. Despite this, the duke of Northumberland, the marquess of Northampton and the earl of Huntington had raised troops and were setting off from London. The duke would be heading for Cambridgeshire, reaching Cambridge around the 15th. He would arrive with an impressive force and with the upper hand, yet leave a captured traitor awaiting a grim fate.

The loss of the duke from the capital was exploited by Mary’s supporters near London. Several men had connections in the Thames Valley and were operating in this area. Jane was not alone in London; the duke ensured he left behind many prominent allies to guard the city against possible attack. His kinsman, Sir Francis Jobson, was handed control of Westminster Palace and Jane was still lodged in the Tower. Yet despite his efforts, the duke was taking a gamble in leaving. As an able commander and someone so attached to the current events it seems fitting he engaged in the field. But his departure meant the loss of authority. Jane may be queen and may have taken on her role with dedication but the duke had the ability to persuade other peers. Would they prove so loyal in his absence?

The same day the Imperial ambassadors were granted an audience at the earl of Pembroke’s London residence. Also attending were three other earls – John Russell, first earl of Bedford, Henry Fitzalan, twelfth earl of Arundel and George Talbot, sixth earl of Shrewsbury – along with William Brooke, tenth Baron Cobham, Sir John Mason and Sir William Petre. They were to discuss the princess’s fate and whether Anglo-Imperial relations could still prevail despite Jane’s queenship. But some of these men were started to have their doubts. William Herbert, earl of Pembroke was becoming incredibly anxious. He was tied to this affair almost as securely as the duke, for his son and heir had married Jane’s sister, Katherine. The earl of Arundel shared his worries; whilst waving off the duke from London and wishing him well – exhorting him to die for their cause – he was considering deserting Jane for Mary. Why did these men have a change of heart? Did some doubt the legitimacy of Edward’s changes to the succession despite being involved in the process? Did some have sympathy for Mary all along? The earl of Bedford had welcomed Mary’s return to court and the destruction of Anne Boleyn in 1536 indicating a degree of admiration for her. Was the news of the growing support for Mary enough to make them see her cause as righteousness? As a young man, Arundel was described as being ‘of good wit, and likely to do well’. He was not going to be destroyed by this affair; if switching allegiances would save him, then needs must be done. His religious principals may have also affected his sympathies for Arundel was inclined to conservative practices.

Mary did not know of these doubts amongst the chief councillors and her sights were set on another prize – Thomas Wentworth. Only two days previously he had proclaimed Jane queen in Ipswich along with Sir John Cornwallis who quickly recanted his position on the matter and joined Mary. Wentworth was lord lieutenant of Suffolk – a perfect prize for Mary. Thus pressure was exerted upon him to renounce his position. Persuasive letters were devised and would be dispatched the next day, delivered by two trusted servants. It would not take Wentworth long to decide what course of action to take next. His ‘inner conscience constantly proclaimed that Mary had a greater right to the throne’, Robert Wingfield alleged, though Wentworth may have been wracked more with worry over the growing support for Mary. He would then make a journey to Framlingham with supplies. Soon Suffolk would be Mary’s county.

(Images. Left: Portrait of William Herbert, first earl of Pembroke by an unknown artist, c.1565. National Museum Wales. Right: Portrait of Henry Fitzalan, twelfth earl of Arundel, after Steven Van der Meulen, 1565. NPG, London).

Wednesday, 12 July, 1553 – Mary arrives at Framlingham

2010-07-12T12:41:00.000-07:00

“...she [Mary] hurried on to reach Framlingham castle about eight-o-clock in the evening, where as many as possible of the local gentry and justices, together with a crowd of country folk, awaited her highness’s arrival in the deerpark lying below the castle.”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

Sir Richard Southwell was a survivor from Henry VIII’s court. His ability to adapt to the times had won him offices and land; he was even one of the assistant executors of Henry VIII’s will. In 1549 he had supported the duke of Northumberland (then the earl of Warwick) against the Lord Protector and had even been made a member of the Privy Council for a short space of time. Subsequently imprisoned in the Tower in 1551 for allegedly writing seditious bills, he was released and led a quieter existence. The events of July 1553 drew him back into political life. Evidently he had no reason to love the duke and his cause thus on the 12th he marched to Framlingham with ‘reinforcements of men, a store of provisions and moreover money’ along with ‘his own skills in counsel and long experience’.

Mary's decision to make Framlingham Castle her base and to move there on this date was motivated by several factors. Space was one, plus Framlingham was better fortified than Kenninghall. Framlingham had been the principal seat of Thomas Howard, third duke of Norfolk, who was currently lodged in the Tower. Upon his arrest in 1546 his properties were seized and after plans extending back to December 1552, Mary received Framlingham from the Crown around two months before Edward VI died. It was an impressive estate and Mary was certainly keen to move to such a place to hold her early court. But she took a risk in moving there. For all its advantages the property was located nearer to London than Kenninghall. Furthermore as she moved there the duke, the marquess of Northampton and the earl of Huntingdon, were preparing their forces to leave London. As mentioned in the last post several dates have been proposed for the duke’s decision to depart from London though on this date letters announced that the men ‘and other personages of estate is presently in the field with our said sovereign’s power for the repression of the rebellion’. So Mary was taken a risk in advancing to Framlingham whilst the duke was preparing to progress northwards. She was relying on the hope that supporters would be coming in significant numbers to the castle. The arrival of Southwell with men on the same day as her own arrival there – he probably arrived before her as she reached the castle at eight o’clock in the evening – must have been incredibly reassuring.

And it was not just Southwell who rushed to his queen. Sir John Mordaunt of Bedfordshire offered his allegiance at this time. His wife, Joan, had once been one of Mary’s ladies; perhaps this was a factor behind Mordaunt’s support. He was also another religious conservative and was evidently trusted by Mary that she would later rely upon him to carry out several important tasks including escorting the the marquess of Northampton to the Tower. He would later be involved in the controversial heresy trials of her reign. Simultaneously Edward Mone, Edward VI’s tax collector, rode to Framlingham with money that he had collected. Jane’s supporters controlled the treasury but Mone regarded the royal finances in his control as the rightful property of Queen Mary. As satisfying as Mone’s actions were to her, the knowledge that she had support from various ordinary people was also pleasing. For as she rode into Framlingham she was greeted not only by ‘the local gentry and justices’ but by a ‘crowd of country folk’.

As Mary presided over her household, the duke was preparing to set out into Cambridgeshire. Frustration and anger must have overcome him and his allies with every report reaching them that Mary’s support base was growing by the day. It was time to teach them a lesson – to show them what happens to men who abandon Queen Jane to support that ‘incestuous bastard’ (Marquis of Winchester’s alleged words). Thus the duke ordered the destruction of Sir John Huddleston’s house, where Mary had previously been offered refuge. His home may now be partly destroyed but Huddleston continued to fight and was en route to Framlingham with a prisoner – the earl of Sussex’s son. Mary would never forget Huddleston’s ardour despite his troubles. Immediately into her reign he would be awarded numerous estates and offices.

Some sources allege that the duke’s decision to enact the role of general was based on Jane’s reluctance to send her father, the duke of Suffolk, away to head an army. Instead he was to stay in London with her and ensure that members of the Council did not start to have second doubts about Jane’s claim to the throne. This decision has been attacked – by contemporaries and subsequent historians – owing to the duke of Suffolk’s allegedly weak character. As Commendone would phrase it, Suffolk ‘was not a man of great valour and therefore lacked authority’. Suffolk was not a stupid man as he has sometimes been portrayed including in the film, Lady Jane (1986). He was a cultivated nobleman, educated and interested in learning though clearly outshone in this regard by his precocious child. But he did not exude the confidence and ability that the duke did. By this date Mary’s cause had yet to reach a turning point. Jane’s hold on the throne was still secure; she still had the support of nearly all the highest peers in the land and of the church, and her armies were more significant than Mary’s. But with every desertion, her situation weakened. And the loss of the duke from the capital would prompt dissension in the ranks. In contrast Mary’s persuasive methods, which now entailed kidnapping, only sought to strengthen her position.

(Image - Framlingham Castle).

Tuesday, 11 July 1553 – Confusion in Ipswich and an earl’s support is secured

2010-07-11T12:24:00.000-07:00

Non aliena putes homini, quæ obtingere possunt:
Sora hodierna mihi, tunc erit illa tibi.

Do never think it strange,
Though now I have misfortune,
For if that fortune change,
The same to thee may happen.

(Verse written by Jane Grey during her imprisonment in the Tower)

Whilst Mary was preparing to move to Framlingham, Thomas Wentworth, Baron Wentworth and his cousin Sir Thomas Cornwallis, sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk, received instructions from the Council to proclaim Jane queen in Ipswich. This they duly did though they soon learnt that Thomas Poley, a servant of Mary’s, had come to the town and announced her accession there. Standing in the market place, he boldly declared that Mary was the rightful queen and then gathered his men and fled. Poley had succeeded in not only alerting the people of Ipswich to Mary’s stand but in disturbing Cornwallis. Now he ‘had reached the crossroads’, as one contemporary put it. Clearly his heart was not fully with Jane’s cause and he had taken note of the sympathy for Mary amongst the people. Perhaps more importantly, his wife was a relation of Henry Jerningham, one of Mary’s most loyal allies. Quickly making up his mind he rode to Framlingham, reaching it the next day, and paid homage to Mary. It would take Wentworth another three days to come to the same conclusion.

Meanwhile in London men were called to assemble on Tothill Fields and ordered to guard the city against possible attack. The duke and fellow conspirators realised that Mary could be drawing upon significant support and prepared for the possibility that she may advance to London. This was the worst case scenario and not one the duke was prepared to happen. Hence he, along with the William Parr, marquess of Northampton and Francis Hastings, second earl of Huntingdon (whose son was married to Northumberland’s daughter) would ride out with armies to suppress Mary’s supporters. There is ambiguity about the exact date of the duke’s departure – the 12the to the 14th has been given – but it is clear that by this date he was preparing to muster forces and leave. Given that letters written on the 12th indicated that the men were ‘presently in the field’, it seems the 12th is the more likely date. Clearly the duke wanted to deal with Mary sooner than later.

In Spain, English diplomat Sir Richard Shelley had the hapless task of informing Mary’s cousin, Charles V, of the accession of Jane Grey and the unsuitability of Mary as a claimant. If Charles or Mary begrudged Shelley for completing this task they never showed it. He would remain in his position and two years later granted an annual income of £50 for life.

Mary had won the support of various gentlemen of the counties she was strongly affiliated to, including men of her household. Yet she had yet to secure the support of a prominent peer. All this was about to change. Sir John Huddleston, the same man who had housed Mary as early as the 4th, was busy recruiting support for his queen in local areas. He had heard that Robert Dudley was still operating with an army nearby, making him vigilant of individuals he encountered on the roads. Along the way he came across a young man of about twenty. The man was carrying letters to the Council in London detailing Mary’s activities. So far so good; Huddleston had acquired an excellent prize. But he quickly learnt that the man was more valuable than that. For he was none other than Henry, second son of Henry Radcliffe, second earl of Sussex. As Robert Wingfield would put it, ‘fortune was beginning to smile on scared Mary’s righteous undertaken’. Young Henry was quickly captured and a letter dispatched to his father detailing what would happen if he persisted in his support for Jane. Now the earl had to decide: his son or Queen Jane. For the earl it was not a particularly hard decision to make. Whilst the anxious earl wrote to his son’s captors and preparing to ride to Framlingham, young Henry was taken to Mary who was ‘thoroughly delighted with his arrival’. She had every reason to be.

(Image – Medal of Sir Richard Shelley by Bernardo Rantvic, 1577)

Monday, 10 July 1553 - Jane is proclaimed Queen

2010-07-10T15:21:00.000-07:00

“And she [Jane Grey] left Sion, a palace of the Duke on the river Thames, in front of which is a palace of the Duke of Suffolk, both 7 miles distant from London. With a great retinue of Noblemen she was brought to the Tower and was received at the door by the Duke who, kneeling, put the keys in her hands. And although the number of people assisting to the ceremony was very big, no cheering was heard.”

(Commendone, Successi d’ Inghilterra, 1554)

“Hungate, I am truly sorry that it was your lot to be so immature and thus rashly to throw yourself away in this embassy.”

(John Dudley’s words to Thomas Hungate, 10 July 1553)

Poor Thomas Hungate. Having confronted the Council in London with Mary’s letter demanding they recognise her as queen or face the consequences, he was duly arrested and sent to the Tower. His ‘immature’ actions, as the duke of Northumberland put it, cost him his liberty but only for a matter of days. Hungate backed the right cause though by the 10th there was no certainty Mary would become queen. Particularly as, whilst Hungate was being transported by water to the gloomy fortress, the King’s death was being announced in London and Jane declared queen.

Jane was taken from Syon to the Tower, a fortress held by her supporters. This was bad news for Mary. As the papal envoy Commendone later explained,

“Any one who has to succeed to the English Crown, before his coronation, must forcibly dwell there [the Tower] 10 days and the reason if it is, as they say, that owing to its outstanding importance, he will be proved with certainty to be the rightful successor to the Crown once master of the Tower; otherwise the Council would refuse to grant its consent.”

Jane, beautifully attired in a gown of green velvet embroidered with gold and with her train bore by her mother, arrived at the Tower by around three o’clock in the afternoon. Some two or three hours later, Edward VI’s death was officially announced in London. It was common knowledge already that he was dead; the official announcement came as no surprise. If Londoners had got used to the news of Edward’s death they had not come to terms with the idea of ‘Queen Jane’. Few showed joy. Twenty years earlier, Londoners were said to have kept their caps firmly on their heads and the tongues still in their mouths when Anne Boleyn had been presented to them as their queen in her coronation procession. Uncomfortably for the Council, the vast majority of whom had been present at the same procession, the crowds repeated the same antics. It was time for the propaganda. Do you not know that the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth are mere royal bastards and thus unfit to rule, they told the people? Do you all not know that the Lady Mary was born from a most offensive union to God – that her mother, Katherine of Aragon had first married Prince Arthur and then engaged in an incestuous union with his brother? (The Marquis of Winchester allegedly exclaimed, “Bastard, bastard, incestuous bastard Mary shall never reign over us!”) Do you not know that the Lady Mary was a follower of that religion which sought to suppress the English and take their rights – the religion which was governed by foreigners and not by the English sovereign, the natural ruler of these dominions? Their arguments were repeated continuously and with much zeal but proved ineffective. The Londoners remained silent.

Whilst Jane was dressed in the gowns and jewels that had one adorned Henry VIII’s ill-fated queens, Mary’s mother included, her men were rushing to various corners of the realm to proclaim her publicly. The council were issuing letters to local officers warning them to act against any disturbances they encountered and to ensure Jane’s accession was public knowledge. But Mary had still not been caught – for all his efforts, Robert Dudley had failed – and this was of deep concern to the duke and his allies. News reached London that Mary was calling for support and, worse still, receiving it in respectable numbers. Very shortly the duke would realise that if a job needs doing it is best done yourself, and thus joined the fight.

At Kenninghall where Mary was still residing, a number of supporters arrived having received their summons. Amongst them was Sir Henry Bedingfield and his brothers. A man once recommended to the duke, Bedingfield was also a Catholic and connected to the Howard family, the head of which was currently imprisoned in the Tower. Bedingfield would prove to be a man Mary could depend upon; in 1554 she appointed him as Princess Elizabeth’s jailor. Frustratingly the first list of men who supported Mary was drawn up on the 14th making it hard to indicate who were first to reach Kenninghall. But Sir Henry undoubtedly was there in the early days and was remembered for this in an account of the whole affair written by Robert Wingfield in 1554. Kenninghall was now getting rather cramped. A larger, better fortified household was needed and one which was more magnificent – a suitable place for a queen to conduct her affairs from. Fortunately Mary possessed such an establishment; a place which had been awarded to her just that year. Ironically Mary would win the throne of England from a castle which her brother had given her. Edward must have been turning in his freshly made grave.

(Image - ‘Jane by the grace of God Quene’, The Proclamation of 10 July 1553.)

Sunday, 9 July 1553 – Jane Grey learns of her accession

2010-07-09T14:26:00.000-07:00

“She [Mary] wrote to the members of the Council and to the Principals of the Realm expressing her astonishment at their not coming unto her to do homage as to their true and lawful Queen and successor to the Reign. In the meantime she started levying a few men, calling to her support many Nobles of that Kingdom, to protect her against the force of the Duke.”

(Giovanni Francesco Commendone, Successi d’ Inghilterra, 1554)

“Declaring to them my insufficiency, I greatly bewailed myself for the death of so noble a prince, and at the same time, turned myself to God, humbly praying and beseeching him, that if what was given to me was rightly and lawfully mine, his divine Majesty would grant me such grace and spirit that I might govern it to his glory and service and to the advantage of this realm.”

(Jane Grey’s account of learning the news of Edward VI’s death and her own accession)

Reports that the duke had dispatched an army headed by his son Robert to capture Mary and stop her supporters from getting to her, must now have been known to the lady in question. Thomas Hungate, her servant who had volunteered to deliver to the Council a letter declaring her accession and warning them against supporting Jane, understood the possibility of being captured en route. Fortunately he would succeed in his mission. But his joy would be tempered by his consequent imprisonment. In twenty-four hours time, Hungate would be arrested and taken to the Tower. Later the Council threatened to have various Catholic prisoners in the same facility, amongst them Stephen Gardiner and Edward Courtenay, earl of Devon, executed if Mary persisted in her defiance of Edward VI’s wishes. Mary ignored them.

Letters calling for support were dispatched to allies. The peers of the realm were also advised to cast aside Jane and join Mary, a decision which most did not immediately take. One man, Henry Ratcliffe, second earl of Sussex, was uncertain of what course of action to follow. A conservative in religion, he felt sympathy for Mary’s position. But it was one thing to pity the princess and quite another to support her and oppose the Council who controlled the treasury, the royal fleets, numerous strongholds and of course the capital itself. He later claimed that Robert Dudley, the same man searching out Norfolk for Mary, told him the king was still alive and that Mary was a traitoress attempting to usurp her brother’s throne and deceiving others into aiding her. Understanding Sussex’s reluctance, Mary would soon force his hand by taking as hostage an individual whose welfare Sussex was utterly concerned for.

For some men, Mary’s letters requesting support were unnecessary. They rushed to Kenninghall and offered their assistance unreservedly. They brought arms and had called upon the support of neighbours. Such was the case with Sir Edward Hastings who was described by opponents as a ‘hardened and detestable papist’. Having received his summons from Mary on this date, he proceeded to raise troops in the Thames Valley. Soon he, Lord Windsor and Sir Edmund Peckham would be proclaiming Mary queen in Buckinghamshire, securing the county for her. Generally, Norfolk proved to be Mary’s county. Indeed it seems the whole of East Anglia was sympathetic towards the princess’s cause. This may seem odd at first given that Protestantism had entrenched itself in these parts. Most of the Protestant martyrs of Mary’s reign derived from the east of the kingdom and the rebels of Kett’s uprising of 1549 had made it clear their point of discontent was with Edwardian economic policies, not religious. Yet these same individuals had not forgotten the way they had been dealt with by the government during the events of 1549. The rebels had been utterly suppressed and this persecution, committed only four years previously, was still fresh in the minds of all. Additionally and perhaps most importantly, the man who had been instrumental in destroying the rebellion – the man whose army had defeated the rebels at the battle of Dussindale and caused around 2000 casualties – was none other than John Dudley, duke of Northumberland.

So far in this account of Mary’s course to the throne, one individual important to the events has not been mentioned. The lady in question was just as affected by Edward’s ‘Devise’ as Mary but her name is often overlooked in accounts of this episode. Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn was once again declared unfit to rule owing to her illegitimacy. Elizabeth had never known a time in her life when she was considered the King’s lawful issue, having been only two when her mother was executed and her father declared her to be his second bastard daughter – the product of another union that was allegedly offensive to God. But like her sister, she was observant and protective of her rights awarded to her in the 1544 Act of Succession and her father’s will. By July 1553 she, along with Mary, was the richest woman in the realm and owned a mass of properties. Like Mary she had been present at one of her own manors when Edward died and like her sister she headed a household devoted to her. But aside from voicing indignation about her brother’s plans, Elizabeth could do very little. She stayed in her household at Hatfield and waited – waited for her sister to succeed; waited for her to fail. As queen, Elizabeth would display unbelievable courage and temerity which matched that exuded by her brilliant parents. But she was indecisive and often reluctant to take a firm stance on certain issues out of fear of the consequences. Only a year later she would take a similar position whilst the rebels of Wyatt’s revolt acted against Mary. Elizabeth was not made of the stuff of martyrs and had her own survival in mind. Her concern was hardly unreasonable or cowardly. Mary too had known times when she would balk in the face of adversity and she would conform, even if it defied her principals, so she could persevere. When Jane’s cause had finally been crushed and the sisters met outside the gates of London, Mary would show no anger or hurt over her sister’s decision to remain quiet in the early days of this troublesome time. But maybe a tiny thread of doubt crept into her mind; a thread which would be spun into something more substantial with every real or supposed act of discontent Elizabeth would later make.

Meanwhile nearer to London, the hapless Jane Grey was finally informed that she was now queen. She had been residing at Chelsea Manor when, on this date, her sister in-law, Mary Sidney (the wife of one of the men present at Edward’s deathbed), told her the news of the King’s death and that she must now go with her to the former abbey at Syon where she would be attended by the duke and other peers. Yet when she got there the men were not present, fuelling Jane’s confusion. Before long, the duke of Northumberland, the marquis of Northampton, the earl of Arundel, the earl of Huntingdon and the earl of Pembroke walked in and informed her of the king’s demise and her own accession. “Which things, as soon as I had heard, with infinite grief of mind, how I was beside myself stupified and troubled”, she later told Mary. After displaying concern about Edward’s changes to the succession and her own ability to govern, she accepted the Crown. If God had called her for this task who was she to question His plans? It was nearly time for her to be taken to London and displayed in public as the queen. She would go from Syon to the Tower, a route also taken by Henry VIII’s fifth wife, Katherine Howard, some eleven years before her. Unfortunately the similarities between the pair do not end there.

(Image - Engraving entitled, "Lady Jane Grey Declining The Crown" by Robert Smirke, 1860).

Saturday, 8 July 1553 – Mary declares herself as queen

2010-07-08T17:20:00.000-07:00

“With her usual wisdom the lady now perfectly judged the peril of her situation, but nothing daunted by her limited resources, she placed her hopes in God alone, committing, as they say, the whole ship of her safety, bows, stems, sails and all, to the winds of fortune, and firstly decided to claim the kingdom of her father and her ancestors, which was owed to her as much by hereditary right as by her father’s will.”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

The most prominent men of Mary Tudor’s household were called for a meeting at Kenninghall. Their mistress had finally reached her Norfolk household and was quick to assemble her advisors. Earlier that day her physician Thomas Hughes, a man described as ‘worthy of belief’, had arrived at Kenninghall to conform the news of her brother’s death. Mary had previously been told this information by her goldsmith whilst at Euston Hall but she remained sceptical. Now she was sure and determined to declare her accession. Like the goldsmith, Hughes would not be forgotten for his loyal service. By October of the same year he would be appointed as one of the queen’s physicians.

The men who sat around the table and formed Mary’s first council were fervent in their loyalty to their new queen. Unsurprisingly given that this was Mary’s household most of these individuals were ardent Catholics. The comptroller of her household, Robert Rochester, had a brother, John, who had been one of the Carthusian monks martyred during Henry VIII’s reign. Edward Waldegrave, a gentleman of the household, was the son-in-law of Sir Edward Neville, who had been executed in 1538 for allegedly conspiring against Henry VIII along with the Pole family. He was also the nephew of Robert Rochester and thus another relation of John Rochester, the Catholic martyr. Like his uncle he would spend sometime in the Tower of London. In 1561 Waldegrave was accused of harbouring priests and having the Catholic mass administered in his household; he died imprisoned in the Tower the same year. Steward George Bacon had been the brother-in-law of Thomas Abell, Katherine of Aragon’s chaplain who had been hanged, drawn and quartered in 1540 for refusing to recognise the Royal Supremacy. Henry Jerningham’s parents had both served Katherine of Aragon; his mother, Lady Kingston had also served Mary. The Tyrrell brothers, Edmund, Richard and George, were ardent Catholics and utterly committed to Mary’s cause. When Mary died in 1558, George would uproot his family and move to the Spanish Netherlands in order to avoid living in Elizabeth’s Protestant England.

The exact details of the meeting were not recorded though they can be revealed by Mary’s subsequent actions. Clearly there was absolute agreement on the issue of Mary’s right to hold the throne. It was also decided that Mary needed to assert her claim as soon as possible by informing her household of the king’s death and her accession and by sending proclamations of her accession, including one to the Council (that was to be sent the following day). The Council were to be offered a chance to desist in their support for Jane. Any man who chose not to listen would be a traitor. Despite such strong words it must have been obvious to Mary and her advisers that the government would not be scared so easily. The man who would have to deliver the proclamation to the Council would be risking much by handing over such a powerful message. Despite the precarious nature of this task one servant, Thomas Hungate, offered his services immediately. Hungate, we are told, was an elderly man, ‘yet second to none in his obedience and diligence’. The duke might later rebuke Hungate for being ‘so immature and thus rash’ in carrying out this mission but Mary was highly grateful for his willingness. Like the goldsmith, the physician and the men who attended her first meeting providing advice, Hungate would be rewarded.

Having consulted with her advisors, it was time for the rest of the household to learn of her accession. It was a moment many had been waiting for. She summoned everyone ‘and told them all of the death of her brother Edward VI; the right to the Crown England and therefore descended to her by divine and by human law and after her brother’s death, through God’s high providence, and she was most anxious to inaugurate her reign with the aid of her most faithful servants, as partners in her fortunes’. Then all in her household, from Beatrice ap Rice, her laundress who had served her since she was a baby to her young loyal lady-in-waiting Jane Dormer, proclaimed Mary queen and rejoiced greatly.

Whilst Kenninghall celebrated and devised plans, the Imperial envoys in London were reporting that three or four warships were seen sailing towards the mouth of the Thames. In the same city, the king’s death was being widely circulated despite the lack of an official announcement. It was not just the ordinary people who were being informed that the king was still alive. On the 8th local magistrates were sent letters from the council detailing the king’s wishes regarding the succession and demanding they publicise such information. But the letters were worded in such a manner as to give the impression that Edward was still living. The duke and his allies were still finalising the plans for Jane’s accession; the time was not right for Edward’s death to be made known. They would have around forty-eight hours to set the ground work before informing the young lady in question of her own accession – a piece of news that would, Jane later told Mary, cause her to be ‘beside myself stupefied and troubled’.

(Image - a map indicating the properties granted to Mary in 1547. The location of Kenninghall is provided. The map is from David Loades, Mary Tudor: A Life, p. xi.)

Friday, 7 July 1553 – Mary learns of Edward’s death

2010-07-07T14:49:00.000-07:00

“...she was told of the king’s death by her goldsmith, a citizen of London, newly returned from the City, but the cautious princess would not put complete confidence in the messenger and would not let the news be spread abroad. On this account she stayed there no longer, but hurried on to her house at Kenninghall....”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

As mentioned in the last post, there is some ambiguity concerning Mary’s exact route around the 6th but we know that by the 7th she was at Euston Hall near Thetford (near the Suffolk/Norfolk border) with Lady Burgh as her host. For it was there, sometime in the evening, that goldsmith Robert Reyns reached the residence and told Mary of her brother’s death and her own accession. Mary was at first cautious and would only accept the truth the following day when another individual repeated the same news. Her stay at Euston Hall was cut short; either the same evening or in the early hours of the next day, she would arrive at her Norfolk manor, Kenninghall. Once in her own household, surrounded by her loyal servants, she could publicly proclaim her accession and despatch letters to that effect. As Eric Ives recently argued, ‘Mary’s victory was won at the writing desks of Kenninghall’ (Lady Jane Grey: A Tudor Mystery, p. 228).

How organised was Mary during this time? There is also some uncertainty regarding this. Clearly she knew something of what was to come and this is credited in contemporary reports. In 1554 Giovanni Francesco Commendone recorded in Successi d’ Inghilterra that Mary and her household had ‘been secretly informed by some Members of the Council itself of the machinations of the Duke, of the progress of the illness of the King and finally of his death’. This is odd given the lack of outright support for Mary from members of the Council in the beginning. Furthermore she was not told of Edward’s death by individuals that high up in office. A much later report by William Camden states that before Edward’s death, Mary was pressurised into renouncing her title for money and lands. Recently, Jeri McIntosh argued that in late March/early April 1553, when Edward had then decided to remove Mary from the succession, the government informed Mary of the plans and granted her Framlingham and Hertford Castle in compensation. This Mary agreed to only to later renounce her position on the matter whilst still holding the properties, including Framlingham which she used as her base. If this version of events is correct, Mary had successfully deceived the Privy Council. She had placated them by residing so close to London till the 4th making it seem that she was waiting obediently near them. But she chose well when she selected Hunsdon as her residence. Close to London but also outside giving her a head start when she moved into Cambridgeshire. She had successfully eluded the government and had managed, by this date, to reach her own household and pick up support along the way.

In London the duke had, in the words of Charles V’s diplomats, ‘seized the treasury and money-reserves of the kingdom, has appointed his own men to the command of fortresses, has raised a force of artillery, fitted out warships for service, and has men ready to go on board as soon as he shall issue the order’. But he still did not have Mary. So that morning he dispatched his son, Robert, with an army of 300 retainers to capture her. Handsome, ambitious and with military experience, Robert Dudley is known to many today as the famous favourite of Elizabeth I. But in the days of July 1553 he was committed to ousting his future lover and her sister from the line of succession. His father, the duke, is often supposed to have been a cold man who advanced his family without a thought of their welfare. Yet his letters to his children reveal that by the standards of the age and his class, he was an indulgent and loving father. The duke did not so much as demand respect from his family as was the natural recipient of such loyalty and affections. His sons were aware that Jane’s cause was the Dudley cause and were just as determined as their father to see Mary’s destruction. But Robert was in for an unpleasant shock. Hurrying to Hunsdon he discovered that she had ‘suddenly departed with her train and family towards the sea cost of Norfolk’. Now he would not only try to find her but he would also guard the roads, make it incredibly difficult for her supporters trying to reach her. The method of patrolling of the roads was not one practised by Robert alone though. It was a tactic that Mary’s supporters would quickly rely upon and proved to be rather beneficial to their cause.

(Image - Portrait of Robert Dudley, First Earl of Leicester, attributed to Steven Van der Meulen, c.1564. Waddesdon Manor)

Thursday, 6 July 1553 – The King is dead

2010-07-06T06:33:00.000-07:00

“... I have been with my lord prince, whose life I pray God long to prosper and continue; for his grace is the goodliest babe that ever I set mine eyes upon. I pray God make him an old man, for I think I should never be weary of looking on him.”

(Letter from Honor Plantagenet, Lady Lisle to her husband discussing her visit to the infant Prince Edward’s household, 1538)

“I am faint: Lord have mercy upon me, and take my spirit.”

(The alleged last words of Edward VI, 6 July 1553)

On the night of 12 October 1537, London was the scene of magnificent celebrations. Bonfires were lit, feasts were held and the Tower’s guns were fired continuously. For at 2am that same day the kingdom was blessed with a male heir – the Tudor dynastic line was secure. After three marriages, two ending in tragic fashions, Henry VIII had his healthy legitimate son. When the baby was christened three days later and brought back from the chapel to be handed over to his parents, his father was recorded to have wept for joy whilst holding his son.

Now, nearly sixteen years later, the boy was dead. His end was a prolonged and undignified one. His hair and nails had fallen out; the constant vomiting had led to extreme weight loss. The smell of the vile fluid he coughed up was as potent as the puss that had seeped from his aged father’s famous leg wound. In March 1553 the Venetian ambassador had reported that the boy, though ill, was still handsome. Now he was barely recognisable. Edward made one last confession, and between eight and nine o’clock in the evening he died in the arms of Sir Thomas Worth and long-term friend Sir Henry Sidney at the palace of Greenwich. He was fifteen years old.

It was popularly claimed that he had been poisoned but then almost any time a prominent individual died, especially at a young age, foul play was cited. Despite these accusations Edward alive was far more valuable to the duke of Northumberland and his men than otherwise. There were still things to do – Mary had not yet been captured – and the conspirators needed to act fast. The same day the duke ordered provisions for the royal ships sent to patrol the waters. Unaware of her brother’s death Mary continued to press on. It has been argued by Diarmaid MacCulloch and Anna Whitelock that she arrived at Bury St. Edmunds and was welcomed by John Bourchier, the second earl of Bath at his family seat of Hengrave Hall. When Robert Wingfield recorded the events of Mary’s accession only a year later he neglected to mention her stay at Hengrave but instead infers that she travelled to the residence of Lady Burgh where she was certainly present by the 7th. Whether we accept the Hengrave story or not, the role of the earl of Bath in Mary’s cause should not be ignored. The earl had notably been absent from London at this time which meant that, rather conveniently, he could not sign in person the final version of Edward’s alterations to the succession. He was also a religious conservative and had a wife who Mary may have been familiar with for her previous husband had been Sir Richard Long, a courtier highly favoured by Henry VIII. Mary’s accession to the throne is in essence a story of the importance of ‘connections’ in Tudor political life. Whether the earl of Bath entertained her or not on the 6th, he was one the first peers to support her claim.

Northumberland’s efficiency and enthusiasm was matched by another individual in London. Robert Reyns, a goldsmith, was preparing for an important journey. His discovery of Edward's death proved valuable to Mary’s cause. For Reyns was not any simple goldsmith but one who had been previously engaged by Mary, a great lover of jewels. Evidently it did not take Reyns long to decide which queen to back. Quickly fleeing the city and probably riding at breakneck speed with few rests, he rushed to be the first to tell Mary the news of her brother’s death and her own accession. Reyns was taking a gamble; if Jane’s cause prevailed, his end would shortly come. But Reyns’s story has a happy ending. Eight months later he was appointed as the royal goldsmith by a gratified Queen Mary. He would be kept rather busy over the next five years.

(Image - detail of a portrait of Edward VI, by an unknown artist, after William Scrots, c.1547. NPG, London.)

Wednesday, 5 July 1553 – The plotting continues

2010-07-05T16:01:00.001-07:00

“...she made a difficult and tiresome journey, hurrying at the dead of night to the home of Sir John Huddleston in Cambridgeshire, where she spent the night.”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

Whilst Mary was fleeing into Cambridgeshire to seek support and get as far away from her enemies as possible, the duke of Northumberland and the King were busy trying to secure the support of the nobility. Later, when the plot failed, many alleged that they had been bullied into agreeing to the affair though their hearts had always been with Mary. Nevertheless only a few did make significant protests against the changes at the time. Happy to please their monarch and perhaps genuinely agreeing with him about how unfit Mary was to be queen, most signed the letters-patent that sought to legalise Edward’s ‘devise’ of the succession. Mary’s movements had not gone unnoticed nor did the duke trust that all in the realm would readily accept Jane as the queen. Thus in these crucial final moments, numerous fortresses, amongst them the Tower, were secured and troops accumulated. Mary could not even escape by sea for the duke had ensured that the royal fleets were assembled, ready to face any potential attacks from Mary’s relatives abroad and blockading Mary’s access to the same relations. Six of the nine ships were active around East Anglia, where the princess was based. Mary, the duke hoped, would prove to be the insignificant fly, tangled in the spider’s web.

Regardless of these developments, Mary did not resort to panic and take reckless decisions. The following evening she had travelled into Cambridgeshire and by the next day she was at the residence of Sir John Huddleston. But instead of confining the stay to a few hours, she spent the night of the 5th there, probably conversing with Sir John about a plan of action and ensuring which households she would go to next. Still she had no idea when her brother was to die and she could not be sure that the news would get to her quickly. She was also unaware of her cousin’s schemes. For while Mary was occupied with her fight for the throne, Charles V was directing his diplomats in London to try to come to some sort of agreement with the duke of Northumberland. Perhaps they could seek an agreement whereby Charles would agree to recognise Jane as queen if the duke promised not to form an alliance with the French. An Anglo-Imperial alliance was still obtainable if the duke was willing. Certainly a betrayal to Mary, but Charles had got wind of the duke’s talks with the French. Reports were now circulating that the duke was asking for French assistance in securing Jane’s accession and to reward them he would hand over Calais, England’s last territory in France. One wild report stated that he was even offering Ireland to the French. You must do anything to prevent this, Charles furiously wrote to his representatives (“You will take such steps as you think necessary to defeat the machinations of the French, and to keep them out of England”.) While these male leaders and diplomats conspired, the two women at the centre of this matter did not know how shortly they would have to wait to become queen. Indeed for one, then recovering from illness in Chelsea, she did not even know a crown was awaiting her.

(Image - Medal of Charles V, attributed to Hans Reinhart the Elder, c.1537; Leipzip, Germany. On display at the V&A, London)

Tuesday, 4 July 1553 – Plotting at the “dead of night”

2010-07-04T11:58:00.000-07:00

“....to escape as soon as possible from the jaws of her enemies, she set out secretly from Hunsdon, giving out as reason for her change of residence that her physician Rowland Scurloch, an Irishman born to a noble disposition and well-disposed to her friends, seemed to be gravely ill. From there she made a difficult and tiresome journey, hurrying at the dead of night...”

(Wingfield, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554)

In late 1141, a woman secretly escaped out of London in the middle of the night. Fighting to become England’s first female ruler, the lady had unfortunately worsened her cause and lost the support of the city. She fled in disgrace having failed to crush her enemies. She would never become queen.

The woman in question was Matilda, ‘Lady of the English’, the only legitimate child of Henry I. Unlike Henry VIII who went to extraordinary lengths to ensure he would not have a female succeed him, Henry I admitted defeat and left the throne to his last surviving legitimate child. But Matilda failed to become queen; instead a cousin, Stephen of Blois, took the throne and ruled until his death upon which Matilda’s heir, Henry of Anjou, became Henry II. When Matilda fled from London it was in defeat and when Mary Tudor rushed as far away from the same capital as she could in July 1553 some worried she too was giving up. The Imperial ambassadors, who represented her cousin Charles V at the English court, were beside themselves with worry. Her cause, they wrote to Charles, was ‘well-nigh impossible’ without military aid from abroad – in other words from himself. Without significant numbers of troops, the duke of Northumberland would succeed in establishing Jane Grey on the throne and Mary would end up captured, with heaven knows what else happening to her next. And surely Mary could never raise such troops on her own. If Charles did not help his cousin, her flight would be as pathetic as Matilda’s escapade.

When Mary fled secretly on the night of 4 July from Hunsdon it was not done in shame but committed in the belief that now she must act. She had decided that the throne was rightful hers and that regardless of the risks she would find the support she needed to press her claim by force. As the Imperial ambassadors remarked, “My Lady has firmly made up her mind that she must act in this manner, and that otherwise she will fall into still greater danger and lose all hope of coming to the throne”. Charles V may have been sitting on the fence waiting to see how she fared, and his representatives may have doubted her, but Mary would not admit defeat so easily.

Thus shrouded in darkness – she cunningly chose to leave in the very late hours – Mary travelled northwards throughout Hertfordshire. However troublesome and frightening the journey was for herself and her retinue of just six, they managed to escape unnoticed, heading for Swaston Hall the residence of Sir John Huddleston. Huddleston, a devout Catholic, was awaiting Mary’s arrival with much eagerness. An excellent host, Huddleston also proved an able commander. He would shortly take as prisoner the son of one of the highest peers in the land prompting the same nobleman to abandon Jane Grey and support the princess. When it came to friends, Mary was truly blessed.

(Image - Sawston Hall, Sawston, Cambridgeshire.)

Monday 3 July 1553 – Mary must act

2010-07-03T13:13:00.000-07:00

“At this time that most holy lady and princess whose history I have here undertaken..... was living at Hunsdon; very shrewdly she got wind of the aristocratic conspiracy aimed at her destruction, and being secretly informed by those most loyal to her of how near her brother was to his end, she took counsel for herself as wisely as she could.”

(Robert Wingfield of Brantham, The Vita Mariae Angliae Reginae, 1554 – a contemporary account of the circumstances of Mary’s accession)

At the start of the last week of Edward VI’s life, his sister Mary was residing at one of her favourite residences, Hunsdon, twenty miles outside the city of London. Many of the most important occasions in her life had taken place at this estate. It was here that she learnt of the destruction of her opponent, Anne Boleyn. It was at Hunsdon that Mary submitted to her father’s wishes by declaring herself to be illegitimate and denying papal supremacy. Now it was where she learnt that her brother would soon be dead and the duke of Northumberland and his allies were eager to have her in their custody. The informer’s message to her was clear: run.

Meanwhile in London, the fifteen-year-old king was rapidly deteriorated. Struggling to breathe, coughing up copious amounts of foul fluids and wracked with pain, Edward was still preoccupied with matters of state. It was clear now that he would not live long enough to see a parliament convene that could overturn the parliamentary statue that had included his sisters within the succession and that could ratify his own plans. But that did not mean his scheme would certainly fail and he was prepared to win the support of those around him before he died. Ironically, amongst the men he had to persuade was Archbishop Cranmer – the illustrious Marian martyr – who had doubts about the legitimacy of the plot. Though young, Edward was his father’s son and won Cranmer around to his way of thinking.

Whilst Jane Grey’s supporters were concerned about the success of their cause, Mary and her friends were getting worried. She was so near London; the duke could take her at any moment. And though the king’s ill health was an open secret there was uncertainty about when exactly he would die and how the conspirators would act. Different reports were circulating and Mary had to trust some over others. Should she trust the informer and move herself away from London – from the centre of power? Was the act of fleeing merely prolonging the inevitable and the duke would still get to her or would it allow her to secure significant support in East Anglia. And was her brother going to die at any moment; if he was not, and she fled, her actions could be represented as seditious and her cause further worsened. Mary had to decide quickly. She made her decision the following evening. Fortunately it was the right one.

(Image: Hunsdon, depicted in the background of a portrait of Prince Edward by an unknown artist, c.1546.)

Ten more 'pointless' facts about Mary

2010-06-07T10:25:00.000-07:00

Nearly a year ago I posted ten random facts on Mary. Here are another lot, probably pointless, but interesting nonetheless!

1. In 1557 Mary declared war on Henri II of France. She sent a herald to the French court to announce the impending conflict. Instead of receiving him, Henri went hunting for two days. When he arrived back and the herald was finally granted an audience, he was cut off by the king on the grounds that he could not possibly hear war being declared on him by a woman. That was too unthinkable.

2. On the occasion of their marriage in 1554, Philip gave Mary a huge diamond (some girls have all the luck!) that his father, Charles V, had given his mother, Isabella of Portugal when they married in 1526. Thankfully no one at the time mentioned that in order to marry Isabella, Charles had repudiated his betrothed – Mary. Luckily such matters were long forgotten and forgiven by the time Mary married Charles’s son.

3. Mary loved gambling. Fortunately she was of a sufficient position to bet huge sums. Unfortunately she was not always blessed with a winning streak. In 1540, during one engrossing game of bowls (a pastime which Mary liked and placed sums on) she resorted to asking servants for money. They refused so Mary waged next day’s breakfast. Her servants were right to be cautious. As Mary’s account book attests -‘Payed for a Brekefaste loste at Bolling by my lady maryes grace’.

4. In November 1553, Mary requested a portrait of her future husband. Philip’s aunt and Mary’s cousin, Queen Mary of Hungary, had a stunning portrait of her nephew by Titian and said she would be prepared to loan it to Mary until Philip arrived in England. It seems Mary was rather attached to this portrait; by late 1554 Mary of Hungary was still asking for it back.

Philip (1527–1598), by Titian, c.1551

5. The only text by a woman printed in England during Mary’s reign was Mary Basset’s translation of Thomas More’s, History of the Passion. Basset, who dedicated her translation of Eusebius's Ecclesiastical History to Mary and was one of her ladies-in-waiting, was More’s granddaughter and the daughter of the equally talented scholar, Margaret Roper.

6. A large ruby, sent by Louis VII of France in 1179 to decorate the tomb of Thomas Becket, was ‘appropriated’ by Henry VIII upon the shrine’s destruction. As queen, Mary had the jewel set in a collar and wore it upon occasion.

7. Mary was a fan of that English classic, strawberries and cream. She enjoyed strawberries in general and received batches of them as gifts.

Mary's dish of choice.

8. For Philip’s royal entry into London in 1554, a series of pageants were held. One involved an acrobat, from Spain, performing tricks on the roof of St Paul’s Cathedral. Mary had been similarly entertained at her coronation pageant over a year earlier when a Dutch acrobat balanced on the weathercock of the Cathedral. Perhaps the Spanish acrobat performed the same trick. Unfortunately something went wrong, and the tumbler ended up dead from his act.

9. Since she was a young girl, Mary practised the custom of drawing Valentines, whereby a ‘Valentine’ is selected and a mock romance is played out. When she was nine-years-old, Mary’s chosen Valentine was her treasurer of the Privy Chamber, Richard Sydnor and she referred to herself in messages addressed to him as ‘your wyfe’ and him as her ‘husband adoptif’. However Sydnor was a rather sickly man, who found it hard to keep up this ‘romance’. The young Mary playfully scolded him; “ye take great care of your goute...than ye do of your wyfe”, she complained.

10. Mary’s ability in Latin from a young age was regarded as very advanced. When Henry Parker, tenth Baron Morley (father to Jane Boleyn), dedicated his translation of Aquinas on the angelic salvation to her, he remarked that when he came across examples of Mary’s Latin he was astonished by her skill; "I do well remember that scant ye were come to twelve years of age but that ye were so ripe in the Latin tongue, that rare doth happen to the woman sex, that your grace not only could perfectly read, write and construe Latin, but furthermore translate any hard thing of the Latin into our English tongue".

Henry Parker, tenth Baron Morley (1480/81–1556), by Albrecht Dürer, 1523

There were never such devoted sisters: Mary and Elizabeth

2010-05-28T10:10:00.000-07:00

Some time ago I discovered the script for the play, Bloody Queen and the Virgin Queen which, as the title suggests, concerns England’s first two crowned queen regnants. The comedy was initially performed at Warwick Arts Centre in 1997 (I am unaware of how many times it has been subsequently staged). It is an amusing piece, performed by just two actors, during which the two half-sisters discuss their reigns and their relationship. The play conveyed the sore points between the two. Here are a few of the, shall we say ‘disagreements’.

You’re not my sister; your father could be any Tom, Dick or Harry...or Mark

Liz: You’re just jealous Mary. Jealous.

Mary: Jealous? Jealous? Of a Lute Player’s Daughter? Who was you father Lizzie? King Henry VIII? I don’t think so – Mark Smeaton was it? Mummie’s lute player? There’s not a drop of blue blood in your veins – not even your varicose ones – you’re just a glorified commoner!

Liz: Malicious gossip! Of course I’m King Henry’s daughter, of course I am. Look at me, it’s obvious. Look at me! I’m the Spit of him. I look more like King Henry than King Henry looked like himself! I am the Image of my father – everybody said so.

Mary: They wouldn’t dare say otherwise – ‘Oh Good morning your Royal Highness, you know it’s funny but...you don’t half remind me of your mother’s lute player...’ You’d have them strapped to the rack, fingernails out, eyes popped, hung, drawn and quartered. And they call Me the bloody one – Good Queen Bess? More like Good Queen Butcher.

Yes, the subject of Elizabeth’s paternity was raised. Ironic given that Elizabeth appears to have resembled Henry VIII more than any of his other children. But given the circumstances of her mother’s downfall it was not surprising that this could be used against her. Mary was alleged to have announced that Elizabeth was not her father’s daughter and thus her half-sister, but was the child of Mark Smeaton, the musician who had been condemned for adultery with Anne Boleyn and executed in 1536. Mary was neither the first nor the last to allege that Elizabeth was not the child of Henry VIII. During Anne Boleyn’s downfall, the imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys incorrectly reported that the infant Elizabeth would be soon declared as the daughter of Henry Norris, one of the other men accused of committing adultery with Anne. In fact Henry VIII never doubted Elizabeth’s paternity and granted her, alongside Mary, a place within the succession. There appears to be no validity behind Mary’s allegations. David Loades has also referred to such remarks as the possibly the product of ‘diplomatic chatter’; did Mary actually say such things or were ambassadors reporting wild rumours? If we accept that Mary did state that Elizabeth looked rather like the former court musician, did she actually believe this? She never acted upon such views and treated Elizabeth, officially at least, as her sister. It is clear that Mary was dissatisfied with having Elizabeth as her heir and her frustration about this situation probably prompted her to voice such sentiments.

And how did Elizabeth respond? According to the Venetian ambassador,

“she prides herself on her father and glories in him; everybody saying that she also resembles him more than the Queen does; and he therefore always liked her and had her brought up in the same way as the Queen”.

She was Henry VIII’s daughter; let no one forget it.

Your mother was a bitch who made my life hell!

Mary: She [Anne Boleyn] was an insatiable goggle-eyed whore who slept with her own brother to satisfy her craven sexual appetites!

Liz: You know as well as I do that she was framed.

Mary: She’d a hooked nose, a poxy neck and wanted to kill me.

Liz: I don’t know why you’re so aggressive, she apologised before she was executed. I hardly knew my mother, you did, you could tell me all the nice things about her.

Mary: Nice things! She once thought I’d curtsied to her in church when I was practically being sick in the aisle at the mere sight of her!

The fact that Elizabeth was the daughter of Anne Boleyn did not prevent Mary and Elizabeth from having an amicable relationship in the later years of Henry VIII’s reign and throughout Edward VI’s reign (though they rarely saw each other during Edward’s reign). But it was a factor that could not be overlooked and, if we credit the reports of the imperial and Venetian ambassadors during Mary’s reign, this became an issue for Mary. To leave the throne to the daughter of a woman whom Mary blamed for causing so much ill in her life – for being her own mother’s usurper – was a difficult pill to swallow. One of her first acts as queen was to announce that her mother’s marriage to Henry VIII had been valid, that she was legitimate, and hence Anne Boleyn had truly been, in the words of Chapuys, a ‘concubine’. Yet again Elizabeth had to respond. As she told the Venetian ambassador, “her mother would never cohabit with the King unless by way of marriage, with the authority of the Church, and the intervention of the Primate of England”. As queen, Elizabeth would refer to her mother on numerous occasions as her father’s wife and as a queen. During her own coronation, Elizabeth’s mother was presented as a queen consort resplendent in her regalia, alongside Elizabeth’s other royal ancestors. Elizabeth also ensured that Katherine of Aragon was never laid to rest in Westminster Abbey in a tomb that would present her as Henry VIII’s true wife as Mary requested. Elizabeth had made her point, and like her sister she had made it well.

You tried to kill me! So much for sisterly love...

Mary: Did you help plot my death? Were you part of the Wyatt rebellion?

Liz: I knew that on was coming, could feel it in my bones.

Mary: Answer!

This one worked both ways :)

In 1554, Elizabeth was sent to the Tower on charges of treason. Evidence linking her to Wyatt’s rebellion, an uprising primarily against Mary’s intended marriage to Philip of Spain, was uncovered. Worse still, there were rumours that the rebels intended to overthrow Mary and replace her with Elizabeth who would marry Edward Courtenay, earl of Devon, the man whom certain individuals had wanted Mary to marry. Some called for Elizabeth’s execution, though her supporters outranked her critics. In the end she was released from the Tower – on the day that her mother had met her end in the same gloomy place – and placed under house arrest.

This was one of the most important and damaging episodes in the pair’s relationship. Elizabeth’s loyalty to her sister was undermined and Mary, who already was uneasy about having Elizabeth as her heir, became more ardent in her displeasure. The extent of Elizabeth’s complicity in the uprising is questionable though clearly she was being sent bits of information. But how much she was being told – whether, for instance, she knew of plans to marry her off to Courtenay and agreed with such plans – remains unanswered. I suspect Elizabeth was guilty of knowing something was afoot and of absenting herself through this escapade, waiting it out to see who would succeed. She took a similar approach in the succession crisis of July 1553. Were Mary’s actions unpardonable? Not really. Elizabeth was a suspected traitor; sending her in the Tower was not an exceptional move. Mary has been criticised for treating her heir in such a fashion, but the fact that her successor may have been involved in treason made the matter incredibly serious. As queen, Elizabeth was prepared to approve of such severity. We all know what happened to Mary, Queen of Scots.

My accession means God loves me, not you!

Liz: Oh, ashes to ashes Mrs Bonfire – at least I didn’t burn every poor soul who wasn’t chanting the Ave Maria or swinging a rosary.

Mary: Well, at least I was up front about it. I didn’t do it for myself Elizabeth, I did it for God.

Liz: Well! He must’ve been tickled pink about that then, mm mmm? He certainly worked in mysterious ways when it came to producing that all important Catholic heir – Air –exactly! Remember Mary? Hot Air; that’s all your pregnancies amounted to – one big Catholic fart! Let’s face it Mary, God’s a Protestant and he wanted Me!

Upon the accessions of both Mary and Elizabeth, respective supporters determined the miraculous event to be a sign of God’s favour for their cause. Catholics proclaimed in 1553 that Edward VI’s demise and Mary’s success in gaining the throne against the Jane Grey faction was a clear sign of divine disapproval for Henry VIII’s actions and of the Protestant Reformation that occurred during Edward’s reign. News of Mary’s ‘pregnancy’ in late 1554 only revived such sentiments; now England would gain a Catholic heir and Anne Boleyn’s daughter would see herself demoted. Order would be established. Mary’s godly work would continue through her child.

Then Mary died. Childless. Who is laughing now, the Protestant retorted. Does not, John Foxe proclaimed, the accession of Elizabeth mark that we, the English, were the Elect Nation? That God intended the English to do away with the allegedly corrupt Catholic Church and became one again ‘true Christians’.

Both Mary and Elizabeth encouraged such rhetoric. Naturally, for they wished to strengthen their position on the throne, provide justification for female rule and see the successful implementation of their religious policies.

Queen Mary the who?

Mary: Well I’m sick, sick, sick of it... ‘I have the heart and stomach of a King’ blah blah blah blah. It’s my turn and I want to talk about me – the Maryian Period.

Liz: The Maryian period! There wasn’t a Maryian period – you didn’t last long enough to warrant an age... six years of sack-cloth and ashes, papism and prudery. (Aside) Everyone thinks you’re Mary Queen of Scots anyway.

Mary: I am not Mary Queen of Scots, I’m Mary Tudor, the first Queen to reign in England. I’m proud of it, it was a wonderful reign.

John Foxe’s Acts and Monuments, better known as The Book of Martyrs, is a familiar text to many interested in this period, and particularly Mary’s reign. We know of the attempts during Elizabeth’s reign to portray the policies of Mary I, namely the religious policies, as fundamentally disastrous and immoral. But equally Elizabeth wanted Mary to go unmentioned. The physical demonstration of this was the state of Mary’s grave during Elizabeth’s reign – a messy affair consisting of a simple grave hidden under a pile of altar stones in Westminster Abbey. Elizabeth’s policy was quite successful; how many today remember Mary? How many remember that Mary was England’s first crowned queen regnant? Mary’s reign had hardly been a pleasant time for Elizabeth thus it would be not trial to overlook that period. Plus now with Mary’s death it was Elizabeth’s moment, her time to shine. As queen, Mary had been fully prepared to take centre stage. Elizabeth craved the limelight as much as her. Well one can't expect any less from the daughters of Henry VIII!

In 1603, Elizabeth was laid to rest in Westminster Abbey. Her coffin was placed on top of Mary’s – the sister who triumphed in life did so in death. Those who have visited the graves will have found the Latin inscription on the base stating, ‘Partners both in throne and grave, here rest we two sisters, Elizabeth and Mary, in the hope of the Resurrection’. It is easy to find this amusing; it is rather obvious how the pair would have regarded this arrangement! It would also be simple to conclude that the sisters only held a throne and a grave in common - oh, and of course DNA. But despite attempts to present the two as polar opposites, the sisters held more in common than we (and they) would like to admit. Both were courageous; both were ruthless. Both were pioneers who had to fight their way to the throne, in Mary’s case quite literally. Both proved Henry VIII quite wrong.....

Liz: Come on Mary, you were the first Queen to ever reign in England – not an easy job – you were the ground breaker, made my job a lot simpler. All those men – they were all against you.

Mary: Yes, I was brave, wasn’t I? I faced them all.

(Excerpts from Bloody Queen and the Virgin Queen by Deborah Barnard, Jill Dowse, Kate Hale, and Cath Kilcoyne)

‘Queen Mary's big-belly’; Phantom pregnancy and the case of Mary Tudor

2010-05-11T14:22:00.000-07:00

I have posted this article with footnotes here: http://www.scribd.com/doc/31223998/Queen-Mary-s-Belly-Phantom-Pregnancy

On 24th November 1554 Queen Mary I sent a private message to the papal legate, and soon to be archbishop of Canterbury, Reginald Pole, who had that day arrived at Whitehall. He was told by the messenger that the Queen had felt the child in her womb quicken. Auspiciously she had sensed the moments upon his initial words to her at their greeting: “Hail, thou art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed are thou among women”. This was excellent news; England already had a Catholic monarch, now they were expecting a Catholic heir. Surely this was a sign of God’s blessing; the Queen’s enemies must now understand the error of their ways? As one prayer stated, “Hear us, O Lord, and grant us our Petition: Let not the Enemies of thy Faith, and of thy Church, say, Where is their God?”

Yet no child came. Nine months later her stomach deflated, her breasts stopped producing milk and the foetal moments disappeared. It was deception, an embarrassing and politically damaging sham. It was now her opponents time to rejoice. Where, they retorted, was God’s favour for you now?

Historians frequently state that Mary suffered from Pseudoycesis, that is phantom pregnancy, a biological and psychological condition whereby a woman exhibits various symptoms of pregnancy yet is carrying no child. Mary suffered from this on two occasions and ultimately died childless. Why she suffered from this remains a mystery, as indeed the condition is regarded with uncertainty by medical experts today. In her biography on Mary, Judith Richards provides detail on modern discussion on Pseudoycesis to better our understanding of the condition Mary probably suffered from. This is undoubtedly interesting, but what of contemporary attitudes to false pregnancy? How did Mary’s contemporaries understand this condition; how common was it back then?

It is important to separate two complaints that are often discussed alongside each other in early modern medical handbooks. ‘False conception’ and ‘false/imaginary pregnancy’ are often included together but they were distinct in nature. False conception is where a woman was regarded to have conceived, though she carried a ‘mole’ – a ‘faux germe’ – or some other growth that was not regarded as child and was seen as harmful to her health. ‘Mole pregnancies’ as they could also be called, were the subject of much more literature than imaginary pregnancies whereby the woman was seen to carry nothing within her womb. There was, for instance, a complete study on mole pregnancies, Lamzweerde’s Historia Naturalis Molarum Uteri (1688), though no study throughout the early modern period on phantom pregnancies.

Yet it was discussed in medical handbooks. The leading medical text, Aristoteles Master-piece (1684) referred to women who ‘may have signs or symptoms, coherent with the true, as the depravity of Appetite, puking, swelling, suppression of the Courses, swelling of the Breasts and Belly, so that many are at a plunge to distinguish them’. The physician William Harvey recorded cases of phantom pregnancy he had encountered. One woman had insisted she was pregnant, only for ‘all her hopes to be vanished into flatulency and fatness’.

What was seen to cause phantom pregnancy? Unsurprisingly there was no consensus though some explanations were endorsed more prevalently than others. The symptoms experienced, namely the expanding stomach and the perceived moments of the supposed baby, were often determined to be the product of a build up of matter. One popular notion was that the woman was suffering from excessive wind. This can be seen in the quote from Harvey just provided. Hippocrates once remarked that ‘when the womb is fleshed by wind in the belly, women think they have conceived’. Delusion was said to be another cause; physician Guillaume Mauqeust de la Motte referred to those women who ‘have such an aversion for old-age, that they had rather believe themselves with child, than to confess they are growing old’.

Fortunately we have a case study rather close to Mary that provides some more information. In 1536-37, Honor Plantagenet, Lady Lisle, perceived herself to be pregnant. This was her eighth pregnancy, hence no one doubted her claims, nor indeed was she sceptical. Friends sent goods for the baby and for the confinement chamber ensuring Lady Lisle would experience a pleasant childbirth. Months went by and no baby came. Finally realising her mistake she sought treatment. Her French physician told her that she was suffering from the ‘gather[ing] together many or diverse cold and slemysh humours within your body’, and therefore required purging remedies.

The belief that a woman must be carrying something – some matter that could be expelled – was a common belief. We may argue that part of the popular idea that Mary suffered from a tumour has been propagated by this notion that her stomach was disbanded by something (though we must remember that her stomach returned to its original state after each ‘pregnancy’ and during the embalming process carried out shortly after her death no mass was found in her stomach). There was even the contemporary rumour that the queen had given birth to a ‘mole’ though this notion appears to have been forwarded to discredit her and not backed by other sources. The view that there was some imbalance, some build up of undesirable substances, naturally lead to purging treatments being recommended. Diet was important. Lady Lisle was told not to eat raw food and particularly not to eat ‘cold meats, as powdered beef that is cold, or cold veal’. For surely, it was argued, this had caused those ‘diverse cold and slemysh humours’ to compile. Hot broths were instead recommended. Sugar was also important. Physician Nicholas Culpeper advised that the patient drink a concoction of ‘wine, sweeten it with Sugar’, along with ‘Broaths with the same’ to be used to purge the body of ill humours. Interestingly mixtures sweetened with sugar were also recommended to induce abortion or to strengthen the unborn child and weaken any ‘faux germe’. Interestingly an article in The Independent a few years back remarked:

‘Mary Tudor used a marmalade made of quinces, orange peel, sugar, almonds, rosewater, musk, ambergris, cinnamon, cloves, ginger and mace to help her get pregnant.’

Was Mary unique in experiencing a false pregnancy? It would be easy to point to the case of Lady Lisle and say no. After all, Lady Lisle’s secretary, John Husee, reminded her that ‘your ladyship is not the first woman of honour that hath overshot or mistaken your time and reckoning’. In 1541 Marguerite of Navarre believed she was pregnant, related the news to her brother, François I of France, though several months later she reported that she realised she was not and the affair was hushed up. Interestingly, Justine Siegemund, court midwife of the Electorate of Bradenburg in the seventeenth-century, had a false pregnancy. As Husee reminded Lady Lisle, God ‘spareth neither Empress, Queen, Princess ne Duchess, but His handiwork must be suffered and his mercy abiden’.

Mary lived in a society where there were no certain ways of determining pregnancy. It seems incredible to us that a woman may go through nine months thinking she was pregnant and could only be sure when the child was in her arms. But pregnancy remained mysterious. Contemporaries understood it was very possible for a woman, and indeed her midwife or if she was wealthy her male physician, to believe she was pregnant for months – even up to eleven months – before discovering she was not. Eighteenth-century Scottish physician, Alexander Hamilton remarked that false pregnancy was something that ‘imposes on the skilful physician’, the implication that even expertise does not mean this condition could easily be determined. Another physician of the same century, Gerard van Swieten, observed, ‘there is no circumstance where a physician’s reputation runs so great a risk, as when he is employed to determine concerning pregnancy’. With no means of being able to see the child within the womb and the ability to attribute symptoms of pregnancy to other ailments, there was nothing certain about pregnancy.

By understanding early modern beliefs on phantom pregnancy, we can comprehend how Mary could come to perceive herself to be pregnant twice, and on both occasions have the backing of her physicians. Yet despite contemporary understand that pregnancy was not something that could be determined with absolute precision before the arrival of the child, that did not mean Mary was immune to ridicule or condemnation. Naturally, her enemies exploited the situation. When Mary’s pregnancy was announced the authorities made use of this to promote the notion that God had shown favour for the Queen and the Catholic Church. Pole’s words to Mary are important here; like the Virgin – whom Mary is compared to repeatedly during her life – she has been blessed. The child would be the country’s saviour. With such hopes dissipated, the critics could respond effectively.

The episode proved not only useful to contemporary critics. In 1688 another Queen Mary - Mary of Modena, consort to James II – gave birth to a healthy boy. Yet despite experiencing a real and successful pregnancy, rumours quickly spread that the infant was not her child, but had been smuggled into her bedchamber via a ‘warming pan’. Like Mary Tudor, her pregnancy was doubted. Interestingly the example of Mary Tudor’s phantom pregnancy was endorsed by critics to weaken Mary of Modena’s and thus James II’s positions. In the same year a pamphlet emerged in London entitled ‘Idem Iterum: Or The History of Q. Mary’s Big-belly’. The reader was told,

‘Some said this Rumor of the Queens Conception was spread for a policy; some other affirmed, that she was deceived by a Tympany or some other like Disease, to think her self with Child, and was not; some thought she was with Child, and that it did by some chance miscarry, or else that she was bewitched; but what was the truth thereof the Lord knoweth, to whom nothing is secret. One thing of mine own hearing and seeing I cannot pass over unwitnessed.

There came to me whom I did both hear and see, one Isabel Matl, a Woman dwelling in Aldersgate-stree in Horn-Ally, not far from the House where this present Book was printed, who before witness made this Declaration unto us, That she being delivered of a Man-Child upon Whitsunday in the morning, which was the 11th. day of June, 1555. there came to her the Lord North, and another Lord to her unknown, dwelling then about Old-Fishstreet, demanding of her if she would part with her Child, and would swear that she ne'er knew nor had any such Child. Which, if she would, her Son (they said) should be well provided for, she should take no care for it, with many fair Offers if she would part with the Child.

After that came other Women also, of whom, one they said should have been the Rocker; but she in no wise would let go her Son, who at the writing hereof being alive, and called Timothy Malt, was of the age of Thirteen years and upward.’

The implication was clear. If one queen could attempt to pass off another’s child as heir, then what could stop another? In a world with no ultrasounds or DNA testing, almost anything was believable.

“[she] changes every day”; Mary Tudor and fashion

2010-05-05T13:30:00.000-07:00

(To see this post with original footnotes and with some images, I have created a pdf document which you can read here: http://www.scribd.com/doc/30947190/She)

For many, the sixteenth-century French hood is deeply associated with Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry VIII. Political allegiances are seen to have been displayed in the way in which individuals of status dressed. Thus the pro-French Anne, whom also spent considerable time in that country, adopted French fashion. Her predecessor and rival, Jane Seymour, is associated with English dress. To reinforce this perception further, in 1537 Lady Lisle attempted to gain a place for one of her daughters in Jane’s household. She succeeded in gaining a place for daughter Anne, but was told that the queen had commanded she lose ‘her French apparel’. Jane, it can be argued, was removing all traces of her predecessor and propagating herself as a modest woman who dressed in the more conservative English fashion than the supposedly bawdy French style.

Yet how distinctively separate were French and English styles viewed by contemporaries? Was English style really conservative? Did those women who espoused it purposely do so to portray themselves as modest women – even as conservatives in religion? And were figures like Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour really that rigid in their dress sense? Could not women adopt English, French, and indeed other continental fashions, because they simply liked the style; because such styles were becoming fashionable elsewhere?

What about Mary Tudor? By looking at her dress sense we can develop some idea of contemporary taste and whether individuals did endorse clothing for political effect or just because the items in question were fashionable at the time.

Mary adored clothes and jewels. During her years of disgrace (1533-1536), a number of her fine gowns and jewels were taken away in punishment over her refusal to recognise her new demoted status. She complained bitterly and was reduced, the imperial ambassador claims, to ‘send[ing] a gentleman to the King, her father, begging him to provide her with the necessary articles.’ Her subsequent vast expenditure on clothes, namely as queen, was in some respects a way of compensating for that experience. Yet there was also a sense of sheer joy in fashion. In 1554 the Venetian ambassador remarked that Mary 'seems to delight above all in arraying herself elegantly and magnificently.’ She ‘changes every day’. In the later years of her father’s reign, when she was back in favour, she would pay great attention to her inventory of jewels. We find her hand in the inventory of 1542-46, carefully documenting all the items bestowed upon her. The pleasure was not only in receiving. Mary indulged in the customary practise of awarding articles of jewellery and clothing as gifts. One ‘grene Tablet garneshed wt golde hauyng the Picture of the trinite in it’ was given to ‘my laday Elizabeth grace’, her half-sister, whilst she granted one Mistress Ryder a ‘rounde tablet blacke enamelled wt the Kings Picture and quene Janes [Seymour]’ on the occasion of this woman’s marriage. Philip also received gifts of clothing from his wife. For their wedding, Philip wore a mantle of gold cloth that Mary had given him. The mantle was set with numerous precious stones.

Evidently Mary inherited her predecessor’s gowns and jewels. This is remarked upon by the Venetian ambassador:

‘She also makes great use of jewels, wearing them both on her chapron and round her neck, and as trimming for her gowns; in which jewels she delights greatly, and although she has a great plenty of them left by her predecessors, yet were she better supplied with money than she is, she would doubtlessly buy many more”.

Given that Mary was already spending a pretty sum on her wardrobe, her desire to spend more indicates the great desire she had to look good.

What type of styles, materials and colours did Mary prefer? Fortunately there exists an excellent study that provides insight into this. Alison Carter, who wrote her MA thesis on Mary’s wardrobe, observes that her accounts as queen reveal huge quantities of velvet and satin. Velvet was the most expensive and Mary frequently called for ‘Jean Duplic’ and ‘Lukes’. ‘Jean Duplic’ was possibly doubled-pilled velvet from Genoa, and ‘Lukes’ was rich velvet from Lucca, Italy. We know that Anne Boleyn had ordered shoes made of this black Genoa velvet. There also appears to be large quantities of crimson and purple velvets ordered for Mary. She also favoured black, again like Anne Boleyn. Alexander Samson remarks that we see ‘a discernable shift from the crimson and murrey dyes popular in 1554 to russet shades by 1557’ throughout her reign. Clearly Mary took notice of contemporary trends.

In the portrait of Mary by ‘Master John’ dated to c.1544 - a portrait which she commissioned – she is depicted in a gown of the French style. As Carter notes,
‘Its characteristics were square neckline, tight-fitting bodice, trained skirt, which from the 1530s had an inverted V opening at centre front, and wide oversleeves worn with ‘false’ foresleeves’.

Though Mary is depicted in the c.1544 portrait wearing this, they first actual reference to a ‘ffrenche gowne’ in her accounts dates to 1546. However five gowns mentioned in accounts of 1538 may have also been in the same style. By 1540 Mary also stops wearing the gable hood; she purchases her last one in January of that year.

For Carter, the ‘grandeur of the French gown lent itself to the rather conservative taste of the English court and more or less fossilized there long after it had passed out of fashionable French dress’. Of course what was considered conservative in England was not necessarily shared elsewhere. Clearly certain Spanish visitors during Mary’s reign did not perceive English women to dress or behave modestly. Furthermore one contemporary remarked that Mary was a saint who dressed very badly, the implication that she overdid it with the grandeur.

As queen Mary took to wearing two sorts of garments – gowns in the French fashion, like before, and looser fitting gowns (she did wear a gown of this type during the period of mourning for her father but starts wearing these more frequently as queen). In 1554 the Venetian ambassador observed that she often wore, ‘a gown such as men wear, but fitting very close, with an under-petticoat which has a very long train; and this is her ordinary costume, being also that of the gentlewomen in England’. The gowns could be fastened at the front. As Alexander Samson summarises, the use of such gowns may have coincided with the period in which she believed herself to be pregnant:

‘This new style was increasingly favoured by Mary, possibly as a result of her phantom pregnancy, the absence of a stomacher making it a more comfortable garment for a woman with a distended abdomen. She was described on the 27th November 1554, appearing at Whitehall: "in the chamber of presence... the Quene sat highest, rychly aparelid, and her belly laid out, that all men might see that she was with child. At this parliament they did laboure was made to haue the kyng crowned and some thought that the Quene for that cause, dyd lay out her belly the more. On the right hand of the Quene sat the king"’.

What was Mary attempting to do with her style of dress? Was she intended to propagate her religious and political sympathies, or just adopting the fashion of the time?

Carter argues that Mary pioneered the ‘Gloriana image’ associated with her predecessor and half-sister, Elizabeth I. ‘Mary was, I believe, a supreme and yet generally unacknowledged exponent of that image, able to dress with the utmost sumptuosity and yet propriety, with a “taste for dress” as Beatrice White perceptively comments “that never degenerated into the baroque or ridiculous”. Mary dressed to impress, and found enjoyment in this. Recently Susan James has argued that Mary lacked any particularly interest in art itself, but was interested in using it for political means. If that was the case, and I think this needs to be questioned, fashion was regarded in a much different light. It was far more ‘personal’ and meaningful to her.

This enjoyment in fashion extended to Mary’s numerous stepmothers, Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour included. Jane may have worn the English gable hood, indicated in portraits of her, but there is the possibility that she adopted other headdresses. As her wardrobe accounts as queen are limited, and in fact don’t mention gable hoods at all though we know she must have worn them, we cannot determine with precision that she only wore certain styles of dress. Clearly Jane, like her stepdaughter and her predecessor Anne Boleyn, adored sumptuous materials; she owned numerous gowns and tended to favour tawny, crimson and yellow. As queen Jane readily accepted the jewels and garments of her predecessors. She may have attempted to control what her maids like Anne Basset were wearing, but she could not deter the popularity of French dress in England. She inherited Anne Boleyn’s gowns and jewels and did so gladly, just as Mary, throughout the rest of Henry’s reign and upon her own accession to the throne, inherited the goods of her predecessors. Ultimately Mary went with the fashion. And if the fashion was for French, then she would acquire that style.

What happened though when Mary went to war with France as queen? Would not the wearing of French influenced attire be inappropriate? Alison Carter identifies Philip’s arrival in England with the subsequent popularity of facets of Spanish dress. Spanish styles had, she argues, been incorporated into the few festive displays held at Mary and Philip’s court and this had an impact on its popularity amongst the nobility. Contemporaries remarked that before Philip’s arrival, male dress in England was influenced by the Italian style; after it became more Spanish. Mary too, and her women, were influenced by Spanish dress; her gowns become, Carter states, ‘remarkably similar in style and decoration under a unifying European, but predominately Spanish influence’. Carter portrays Mary as a woman frequently incorporating the most fashionable styles in her own dress, thus she did not move away entirely from French styles. The move to Spanish dress is evident yet predates England’s declaration of war on France in 1557. What dispels the notion that Mary was motivated particularly by political events in her style of dress is that fact that in 1558 she orders seven French kirtles for loose gowns.

A few months after her death, several of Jane Seymour’s ladies returned to wearing the French hood. It was after all the fashion; gable hoods were becoming terribly outdated. Like these women, Mary was aware of current trends and wished to display herself as befitting her status. Mary may have been the monarch’s illegitimate daughter, specifically verified as so in the 1536 Act of Succession, and was for eight following years not included in the succession, but she was nonetheless a leading lady at court and the daughter of the monarch. She dressed well and understood the importance of dressing to impressive. Mary was first lady at court during the rare occasions that her father was without a queen. Did she perhaps take this time to further her knowledge on public presentation? Possibly and this would have been no hardship. For Mary, looking good was a pleasure and a duty.

A short critique of G.W. Bernard’s views on Anne Boleyn and Mary’s relationship

2010-04-30T13:39:00.000-07:00

Two days ago my copy of G.W. Bernard, Anne Boleyn: Fatal Attractions (New Haven and London, 2010) finally arrived. Taking advantage of the pleasant change in weather, I decided to read it in Greenwich Park situated near the former palace where Anne, according to Bernard, got up to a lot of extramarital fun. I could write at some length on the study, which I have mixed views about, but this is a blog on Mary and arguably not the place for such a review. But there is one chapter I do wish to discuss and I promise it specifically concerns Mary. The chapter in question, '6. She ‘wore yellow for the mourning’: Anne against Catherine’ (pp. 79-91) deals with Anne Boleyn’s relationship, or more precisely treatment of, Katherine of Aragon and her daughter. I’m going to be more specific here and try to overlook the discussion regarding Anne’s treatment with Katherine in order to observe Bernard’s views of Anne and Mary’s relationship. This is not difficult given that the chapter tends to favour this issue above Katherine’s treatment.

Firstly, I applaud Bernard for being one of the few current historians to actually make the trip to Vienna to consult the original dispatches of Eustace Chapuys and others kept at the Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv. Bernard has evidently been diligent in his research.

What then of his comments regarding Anne and Mary’s relationship. According to Bernard, Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII probably encouraged one another in their poor treatment of his former wife and daughter. Mary was always a threat to Anne. Her insistence on her own legitimacy obviously challenged the legitimacy of Anne’s marriage and her daughter’s right as heir to the throne. If Anne berated the girl – if she threatened to have her physically admonished, even threatening her with death – this cannot be seen as a product of pure maliciousness. Behind all such threats was fear and a defensive position. If Anne, Bernard summarises, threatened the girl, ‘it is easy to understand why she did’ (p.90). For it is ‘quite plausible such angry measures sprang not from malevolence but from self-defence’: at the least, Anne’s behaviour was readily comprehensible’ (pp. 90-91). But if she did threaten to kill Mary then this, Bernard argues, was stepping over the mark, with the implication that Anne was capable of lacking pragmatism and was rather unable to understand political affairs. For threatening to remove Mary and Katherine would undoubtedly provoke the Emperor and worsen Henry’s position. This would have been disastrous.

One of the major problems I had with Bernard’s discussion was his reluctance to state boldly what he believed to have occurred. Does he truly credit Chapuys’s constant claims that Anne wished to remove Mary? Bernard will not say so, perhaps because he does not know whether to or whether not to see Chapuys as that credible. Perhaps his unwillingness to affirm such accounts outright is sensible, and shows a necessary cautious approach.

Bernard’s account of Anne’s attitude towards Mary is based largely on Chapuys’s writings. Chapuys, as we know, was hardly an impartial observer. And in fairness to Bernard, he mentions this. But he still chooses to frequently use Chapuys’s comments without referring to others. Possibly because other accounts are often rather silent on Anne’s alleged behaviour. But this silence is important, for it prompts us to ponder the validity of Chapuys’s claims. The fact that Chapuys was at times the only writer to mention such acts of maliciousness does not necessarily make these claims false. But just because he states them does not make them true either.

For Bernard, Henry VIII was the main instigator of his annulment from Katherine, and his involvement in the direction of this affair (and synonymously ecclesiastical affairs) is more noted than Anne’s. Anne obviously supported her husband’s actions, though Bernard’s Anne is often a woman with rarely acted independently and was the initial advocate of views that Henry would adopt. She did not advance herself to be queen – for Bernard believes Anne never refused Henry sexually in the beginning and demanded marriage or nothing. Bernard’s Anne adopted stances on issues that evidently favoured her cause – for instance becoming stridently anti-papal. Ultimately she was not the influential figure that others have advanced. Yet we are supposed to credit the probability that Anne may have been capable of ‘independently go[ing] beyond what Henry would have been prepared to accept’, with her hatred of Katherine and Mary (p. 91). Would Anne, who Bernard at times regulates to little importance, be bold enough to declare that if she became regent upon a proposed trip the king might make to France, that she would execute Mary or at the very least starve her to death? (p.83) Was Anne capable of constantly acting 'without the king’s knowledge’ as Chapuys reports, a line which Bernard includes in his account? (p.87) [1]

But, perhaps most importantly, did it really take Anne Boleyn to ‘egg on’ Henry concerning what to do with his daughter? My answer would be no. I think it is quite clear that Henry VIII was personally affronted with his daughter’s actions and enraged that not only would she defy him but she would side with her mother. It may be true that Henry had tears in his eyes when he spoke of his daughter’s defiance to the French ambassador who subsequently replied that Mary had nonetheless been granted an excellent upbringing (p. 81). But these were not tears for his daughter. For Henry, it was he who was the injured party here. It is quite clear that he was astonished by his daughter’s actions; angered and hurt. Though I do not suggest for one minute that we share his outlook, it was, nonetheless, his approach. Even Chapuys came to realise this. For after Anne’s execution, when many around the king were calling for Mary’s return to court, Chapuys noted that Henry had responded by stating:

"As to the legitimation of our daughter Mary...if she would submit to our Grace, without wrestling against the determination of our laws, we would acknowledge her and use her as our daughter; but we would not be directed or pressed herein". [2]

Henry’s message was clear. If Mary would not help herself by recanting her position then she should expect the treatment that she was already receiving. And this was Henry being polite. The other Henry was encouraging the lords visiting Mary to convince her to give into his demands, to be as ruthless as they could in their dealings with her. As Chapuys also commented, ‘the King got into a great anger against the obstinacy and disobedience of the said Princess, showing clearly that he bore her very little love or goodwill’. [3]

Bernard certainly does not suggest Henry was innocent in all this. He notes that the direction of blame on Anne was ‘another example of Henry’s political skill at directing policy while allowing others to shoulder public responsibility for it’ (p.90). But this statement is at odds with his then acceptance of Chapuys’s accounts – for he uses Chapuys enough to make it appear as if he should be listened to – which seeks at times to diminish Henry’s responsibility.

There is one concept absent in the chapter yet needs to be examined. To what extent was Chapuys embellishing aspects, not only to demote Anne’s reputation further but also to strengthen Katherine and Mary’s stances against her? Now we may argue that Anne was already regarded badly from Katherine and Mary’s perspectives, and this undoubtedly and understandably was true. But Chapuys’s constant allegations against Anne which he readily reported to Katherine and Mary had a further impact on their views. I turn here to the arguments of David Loades in his biography, Mary Tudor: A Life, one of the finest studies on Mary. For Loades, Chapuys has falsely been portrayed as an excellent supporting presence for Mary during these years. Instead we should perceive him as an individual who worsened an already bad situation by encouraging Mary to become more strident in her opposition. ‘He did not invent, or even encourage, her uniquely abrasive style, but he did offer her all the support and encouragement in his power’.[4] We may pause to question what was wrong with this; surely supporting her was better than berating a girl already tormented. Mary had already her father and Anne to contend with and she lacked the physical presence of her mother, yet Chapuys was able to see both and act as an intermediary. The problem though, as Loades indicates, is that the ambassador did not just offer her moral support. He was, instead, encouraging her to openly rebel. Coupled with his enthusiasm for Katherine and Mary to reclaim their positions by force, his actions were dangerous. If Mary was seen to wilfully support his plans her position would have worsened considerably. For Loades, Chapuys’s advice often proved more useless then it did useful and his constant contradictions and hopeful yet empty promises only sought to confuse Mary about the reality of the situation than assist her emotionally throughout all this.

If we accept this interpretation of Chapuys’s motives and character – as, in the words of Loades, a ‘deeper and more devious’ Chapuys than some have wished to present (p. 84) – then Bernard’s frequent use of Chapuys as a source here is misleading. Earlier on in the book, Bernard has already cast doubt on Chapuys’s claims in regards to the alleged constant instability of Henry and Anne’s marriage; this causes the reader to then question why we should so willing accept Chapuys’s remarks about Anne’s relationship with Mary. If he could exaggerate about one, then why not the other?

This post will probably appear as some attempt to rehabilitate Anne’s character. I do not, however, doubt that Anne truly feared Mary and perceived her as a threat. I do not doubt that she spoke out against her. Till her death Mary always perceived Anne as a wicked woman and we cannot blame Chapuys entirely for enforcing this view. Mary’s perception of Anne was understandable. Anne’s rise meant her own downfall and her mother’s. Mary, I believe, regarded her mother as almost saint-like figure and this view was primarily formed when Mary gave into her father’s demands, for Katherine never did relent, never did compromise on her position. Katherine once told her daughter that the path to paradise was not an easy one; one had to serve God faithfully in order to receive His acclamation.[5] Do not give in, she told Mary; remember what ‘you do owe unto God and unto me’. But Mary of course did ‘give in’ – very understandably so – and thus her mother, I believe, became a figure which Mary regarded with a mixture of filial love, admiration and awe for her own staunch stance on the matter of her marriage and Mary’s legitimacy. Consequently her mother’s perceived usurper could not be regarded with mercy. But, as even Bernard admits, Anne’s actions were equally understandable. We may sympathise with Katherine for upholding her daughter’s rights, though we often overlook Anne’s efforts in doing the same for Elizabeth. And given that Anne’s position was far more precarious than Katherine’s, for she did not have the powerful relations abroad to intervene on her behalf and as she had successful replaced one queen she unwittingly gave another the precedent to do the same, verbal threats were the tools she had. Not admirable but, to repeat Bernard again, ‘understandable’.

I stated at the beginning of this post that Bernard’s consultation of original source material was admirable, and this, I think, is one of the leading features of the work. But occasionally we lose the ‘ifs’ and ‘perhaps’ in context to Chapuys and he becomes once again the central figure. Retha Warnicke, who has also written extensively on Anne Boleyn, has questioned why we over rely on Chapuys. ‘These biased documents, which Freidmann considered “of the greatest value”, still shape how some modern historians approach her [Anne’s] life’, she complained.[6] Certainly. But then Warnicke is not guiltless of endorsing the accounts of certain of Anne’s critics in the formation of her own theories on this figure. Like Chapuys, we can all be guilty of being inconsistent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[1] There is also the subject of the royal households; did Anne exert a large say in how Mary was to be treated within Elizabeth’s household? Jeri McIntosh’s study, From Heads of Household to Heads of State: The Preaccession Households of Mary and Elizabeth Tudor, 1516-1558, implicates Henry as the main instigator. Though she believes Anne wished ‘to drive home the distinctions between her daughter, the real princess, and the now illegitimate Lady Mary’ (p. 40) by, for instance, ensuring Elizabeth was dressed sumptuously, McIntosh designates responsibility to Henry when discussing the actions committed against Mary.

[2] Cited from David Loades, Mary Tudor: A Life (Oxford, 1990), p. 99.

[3] James Gairdner (ed.), Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume X: January-June 1536 (London, 1887), 1069.

[4] Loades, Mary Tudor, p.83

[5] BL Arundel 151, fol. 195.

[6] Paul Friedmann was the author of a two volume biography on Anne Boleyn published in 1884. The work relied extensively on Chapuys’s dispatches. Retha M. Warnicke, ‘Reshaping Tudor Biography: Anne Boleyn and Anne of Cleves’, in Lloyd E. Ambrosius (ed.), Writing Biography: Historians & Their Craft (Lincoln and London, 2004), p. 60.

Ludlow Castle

2010-04-26T06:30:00.000-07:00

In 1525, a nine-year-old Mary was sent to the Welsh Marches. The orders of Henry VIII stipulated that ‘the good order quiet and tranquilitie of the Countreyes thereabout hath greatlie bene alterd and subverted’ by the absence of royal authority that a Prince of Wales and his council would represent. Thus Mary, the monarch’s ‘deerest most beloved onely doughter’, would go to Ludlow with a council and hold court there.

Mary would act as the nominal head of a new Council of Wales and preside over an impressive household. Ludlow Castle is often identified in discussions on Mary’s progress to the Welsh Marches as being her principal seat. Yet her time there was short lived, evidenced in an itinerary of her journey established by W. R. B Robinson. According to Robinson,

As her biographers have assumed that Ludlow castle was her principal residence during her stay in the Marches, it should be noted that the evidence for her presence there in early May 1526 is indirect and that no other evidence for her being at Ludlow has been found. Robinson, 'Princess Mary's Itinerary in the Marches of Wales 1525–1527: a Provisional Record', Historical Research, 71, 175 (2002), p.239.

In the itinerary, Robinson has identified that on the 3rd and 4th May 1526, Mary’s governess, Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, is noted to have been present at Ludlow inferring that Mary was also there. That is the only evidence of Mary’s stay at the castle. A letter from the president of the council in the marches of Wales and supervisor of Mary’s household, John Veysey, bishop of Exeter, indicates that there was plague nearby and subsequently there were concerns for Mary’s health. Veysey wrote to Wolsey alerting him of the numerous local areas inflicted by illness, a worry given that many had travelled from thereabouts to Ludlow in order to pay homage to the princess and advance respective petitions. The presence of the king’s daughter, and in many people’s eyes the de facto Princess of Wales, naturally excited many and drew crowds. Mary was Henry’s only legitimate child; her health was of extreme importance. So Wolsey recommended that Mary be moved from the council to some ‘place solitary’. The location of this site is unknown, though clearly Mary left Ludlow. Mary is next mentioned at Hartlebury, and then progressed on to Worcester, thus making her route back to Greenwich Palace. She was back there for St George’s Day 1527.

Yet Mary did stay at Ludlow, like her mother around twenty-five years before her. Katherine had gone as the official Princess of Wales, married to the heir to the throne, Arthur, son of Henry VII. Like her daughter, Katherine’s stay at Ludlow was limited though longer than Mary’s. Katherine arrived at Ludlow in December 1501 and on 2nd April 1502 Arthur died, possibly of the sweating sickness or some other virulent disease. News from Veysey of illness in the surrounding areas must have revived unpleasant memories.

Ludlow today lies in ruins. Situated in one of the most beautiful counties in England and affixed to a picturesque town, Ludlow Castle is the ideal tourist attraction. A while back I decided to visit as many of Mary’s pre-accession households as possible and, having never been to Ludlow, I made a trip last Saturday. Here are some photos I took of the castle:

The judges' lodgings; lodgings for administrators including those that accompanied Mary to Ludlow. On the walls you can see remains of fireplaces, marking the level of floors once present.

Stairs of the Judges' lodgings

The Round Chapel. Dating to the eleventh-century, the chapel was dedicated to St Mary Magdelene and originally had a square chancel with a polygonal apse, the foundations of which can still be seen. For many years it was known as Prince Arthurs Chappel, after Arthur Tudor, who worshiped there along with his household.

The north range. The stairs lead to the Great Hall, the centre of Ludlow Castle and of Mary’s household. The Great Chamber is situated to the right, and was used as the Lord President’s apartments (I think Katherine of Aragon’s apartments were situated here). Prince Arthur’s apartments were alleged to the left – the western solar block. These grand apartments may have been used by Mary during her stay.

Detail of the western apartments that may have been used by Mary. Here are remains of a grand fireplace.

Further detail of the western apartments

Detail of the Great Hall, the centre of Mary’s household.

View of Ludlow from the castle. The church is St Laurence’s. Arthur Tudor’s heart was buried there; his body lies in Worcester Cathedral.

Modern portrait of Mary in Castle Lodge, Ludlow. Appears to be based on the c.1544 portrait of Mary by ‘Master John’ (National Portrait Gallery, London).

For further reading see: Jeri L. McIntosh,'Princess Mary as the de facto Prince(ss) of Wales, 1525' (2010)

Are we demoting Mary by referring to her simply as ‘Mary Tudor’?

2010-04-16T11:08:00.000-07:00

Some months ago Professor Peter Marshall of the University of Warwick wrote a fantastic piece for The Times Literary Supplement in which he reviewed several recent publications on Mary. Marshall began his article by observing that,

Mary is the only English monarch routinely known by her family name rather than her regnal number. It’s as if she wasn’t really a proper queen at all, her rule an interruption to the proper numerical progress of monarchical history. The reign was of course an interruption to a particular view of historical progress: that which identified the establishment of Protestantism as the keystone of English national identity and subsequent imperial greatness. In the still remarkably fresh satirical words of 1066 And All That, the Catholic Mary simply failed to understand that “England is bound to be C of E”.

Marshall is certainly correct in his observation that ‘Mary Tudor’ is frequently favoured over ‘Queen Mary I’. But is this a conscious or unconscious act of disrespect? Is there really anything wrong in calling Mary, ‘Mary Tudor’?

It is, undoubtedly, anachronistic to call her ‘Mary Tudor’. As Clifford S.L. Davies observed in an article also published in The Times Literary Supplement:

Queen Mary I is routinely referred to as “Mary Tudor”. This is a historian’s convenience to distinguish her from her cousin Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots; the contemporary terms were “the Princess Mary”, “the Lady Mary”, or “Mary of England”.

And,

If one searches accounts of 1485, of 1509, of the succession crisis of 1553 (the attempt to make Lady Jane Grey Queen), of the accessions of Mary and Elizabeth, even of accounts of Elizabeth’s death in 1603 – occasions on which any historian today could hardly but allude to “Tudor” – the word and concept is conspicuously absent. Mary and Elizabeth are “daughters of Henry VIII”, not “Mary Tudor” or “Elizabeth Tudor”. Henry VII is always described before Bosworth as “Richmond”; as indeed he features in Shakespeare’s Richard III, and in his fleeting appearance in Henry VI Part III.

Thus if we are to credit Davies’s and Marshall’s arguments, not only are we snubbing Mary by refusing to acknowledge her as Queen Mary, but we are also being illogical in our choice of title for the real Mary would not have identified herself as ‘Mary Tudor’. Nor would her contemporaries.

Obviously I used ‘Mary Tudor’ for the title of this blog, so I am guilty – though I like to say instinctively as opposed to maliciously so – of the accusations here. The title of this blog comes from an article Judith Richards wrote in Carole Levin, Jo Eldridge Carney and Debra Garret-Graves (eds.), High and Mighty Queens of early modern England: Realities and Representations (New York, 2003). Richards propagates the view of Mary as a cultivated and intelligent princess and queen, adapt at court and government affairs. It is clear from reading Richards fabulous biography published in 2008, that it is imperative to reconsider Mary’s reign and recognise her partly successful, yet of course highly complex, legacy she left to her sister, Elizabeth I. Mary, Richards concludes, ‘normalised the idea of a female monarch to such an extent that Elizabeth succeeded her without challenge within England’ (p. 242). She also confronts the most controversial of Mary’s policies as monarch and argued that, in the case of the burnings, there has been the tendency to use one aspect of the reign to conclude its whole success. Reasons are provided for England’s declaration of war against France and though Mary had her personal failures, ignorance, stupidity and idleness were clearly not among them. Marshal acknowledges Richards’s argument in her review. It is clear that Richards promotes a far more favourable view of Mary and her reign than has been traditionally asserted. Her use of the title, Mary Tudor, was obviously meant in no way to undermine the figure.

Marshall’s observation of the tendency to refer to Mary not as a queen is an interesting one and should stimulate debate. It is certainly very easy to use ‘Mary Tudor’ without questioning the validity of this and Marshall is correct in prompting us to think further. Yet even he is guilty of adopting this term from time to time. Ultimately I hesitate to say we are devaluing Mary, particularly as two recent biographies on her, Linda Porter's and Anna Whitelock’s books, have included in their title that Mary was England’s first queen regnant. If the title ‘Mary Tudor’ is becoming more popular than the gruesome sobriquet ‘Bloody Mary’ then we are at least progressing in the right direction.

Free postgraduate workshop featuring David Loades

2010-04-12T08:52:00.000-07:00

I have just discovered a postgraduate workshop that is planned for June that I desperately want to attend. The key note speaker is Professor David Loades, the leading historian on Mary Tudor (who I would love to meet!). An interesting talk will be given by a PhD student at Warwick, entitled, 'To promote a woman to beare rule': The Queen of Heaven and Political Loyalty, 1553-1558. Examination of the Marian cult during Mary Tudor’s reign is a fascinating topic, and I look forward to reading the student’s final thesis. Some months back I read Elizabeth Ann Drey’s MA thesis, The portraits of Mary I, Queen of England (a copy of which can be found in the Courtauld Institute of Art’s library). Drey mentioned that during Mary’s reign there appeared material depicting Mary as the Virgin, suckling not the infant Christ but several Spaniards. This satirical, sacrilegious and hostile print, which fully intended to attack Anglo-Imperial relations, came to the attention of the authorities who made attempts to suppress the damaging material. Having previously come across comparisons made between Mary and her namesake, the Virgin, in works dating to the latter years of her father’s reign, and in pieces praising Mary’s accession in 1553 (particular Welsh material), I would be interested to learn more about how Mary and the regime employed such comparisons for political effect. And how, as the aforementioned print indicates, such comparisons could be severely subverted.

So I hope I can attend this workshop! For those interested, the workshop, The English Reformation: Religion and the World, will take place on the 2nd June at the University of Liverpool. It is free though you need to book in advance. Contact the history department for more details.

Article by Prof. David Loades on 'King Philip of England'

2010-03-01T12:33:00.000-08:00

A few months back I posted an article re-examining Mary’s reign by Professor David Loades, published in the BBC History Magazine. Here is another article by Professor Loades, but on Mary’s consort, Philip of Spain. The article was published in History Today (Jan 2007). Click on each image to enlarge and read.