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

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.

New Mary biography

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!

Interview with Giles Tremlett on new Katherine of Aragon biography

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.

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

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.





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[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.

Review of Judith Richards, Mary Tudor (2008)

I wanted to find a detailed, excellently written review of Judith M. Richards’s biography on Mary. Unfortunately such reviews have been published in journals which, though I can access, I am not allowed to post elsewhere owing to tedious copyright issues! So I have decided not to be lazy and have written my own review. Needless to say it is not of the calibre of the others!


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Judith M. Richards, Mary Tudor (Routledge, London and New York, 2008)



In 1557 the Venetian ambassador, Giovanni Michiel, wrote a lengthy report on the appearance and personality of Queen Mary I, that has become a valuable source in the examination of this figure. Mary was, he claimed, a woman of ‘wonderful grandeur and dignity, knowing what became the dignity of a sovereign as well as any of the most consummate statesmen in her service’. Yet despite such praise Michiel still argued that because Mary was ‘of a sex which cannot becomingly take more than a moderate part’ in administrative affairs, she must have therefore taken a more passive role in government. The ambassador’s claims show us the prejudice that Mary as a female ruler encountered throughout her reign, problems which Richards explores exceptionally well in this work.


Richard’s biography is superb in analysing the subject of female rule in the sixteenth-century and in the context of the reign of Mary Tudor. Previous work on English female rule has focused almost predominately on Elizabeth I. Yet as Richards identifies, Mary preceded Elizabeth and successful met challenges including attempting to curb the power of her consort, Philip of Spain. Richards effectively pushes aside the traditional notion of a weak-willed Mary who was under her husband’s thumb. Instead Mary appears as a ruler who was very wary of others encroaching upon her authority.


Aside from the useful discussions on queenship, there is also a revised and in-depth analysis of Mary’s faith and religious policies. Richards rejects the notion that Mary was the blindly devoted Catholic of Protestant myth. Instead Mary actually encountered problems with the papacy and ultimately defied the pope by refusing to send Cardinal Reginald Pole back to Rome so he may be tried on charges of heresy. As Richards notes, ‘her obedience to the Holy Father was always tempted by a strong sense of the proper limitations of papal authority within her kingdom’ (p.218). Overall subtle comparisons between Mary and her father Henry VIII, are made. It has never been popular to consider that the pair had much in common, particularly in regards to religion. But as Richards shows, Mary was also favourable to the English Bible having encouraged the preparation of another during her reign. She also agreed with the Henrician settlement on certain points; for example she and Henry were in agreement on the subject of clerical celibacy and the absolute necessity of recognising the real presence at the mass. And of course both conflicted with the papacy, albeit in varying degrees.


Mary’s relationship with France is covered well, and Richards presents the image of a queen who faced a rather hostile and often unreasonable French monarch. Richards implies that part of Henri II’s disdain was over Mary’s sex, reinforcing further the tribulations Mary faced as a queen regnant. Richards also argues that when England did go to war with the French, something historians have attacked as absolutely disastrous, there was a significant degree of support in England for the move. The biography also illustrates the alleged and genuine frustrations the English government had with the French prior to the declaration of war that indicates that decision to enter conflict was not solely or even mainly to do with support for the Hapsburgs.


However the biography is not without faults. I would have liked a larger section on the Marian persecutions as owing to its controversy and the fact that for many it has defined Mary and her reign, it is therefore a subject that needs much analysis. But perhaps Richards was making a point with the fact that only ten pages in her book are specifically dedicated to this. Her use of comparisons, between Mary’s reign and the rest of Catholic Europe (and Protestant Europe), and with the reign of Elizabeth I, was very useful. Arguably she could have gone further in such comparisons in her general argument that the Marian burnings were not incredibly unique. Overall Richards clearly indicates Mary’s role in the burnings and reveals an image of a queen who was actively involved in the policies of her reign. I think this is important to assert as Mary is a figure that can be liable to (and has actually been) represented in an extremely malicious or even very saintly fashion, both such views being gross exaggerations. Instead, as Richards shows us, she was an active sixteenth-century monarch like her father and her sister and just as we must recognise her participation in the successes of her reign, so we must identify her role in the actions which we are repulsed by.


In her own review of this book, Dr Lucy Wooding argued that more detail could have been included on the last three years of Mary’s reign. This is a valid point as some things are skipped over. If I am not mistaken Richards failed to mention the formation of the Muscovy Company in 1555, which marked significant trade links between England and Russia. Overall Ireland and Wales are rarely (if ever in regards to the latter) mentioned in this work.


Despite these criticisms, Judith Richards work on Mary is an engrossing, innovative study which has enriched scholarship on this period and will be extremely useful for historians and students of this era. It is a shame that this book has not received much publicity, whilst another and less superior recent biography on Mary has. This book, though useful for academics, is also accessible for those who know little about Mary and her reign and want a well written and fascinating biography. It lacks the syrupy sentimental language of popular history books, yet still provides us with excellent detail about Mary’s private life and character as well as the politics of her reign.