May 19th, 1536: A Tribute to Anne Boleyn

I know I’m not supposed to be blogging during my official leave of absence, but as many of you know, today is May 19th, the anniversary of Anne Boleyn’s execution. And I couldn’t pass up this occasion to pay tribute to someone I deeply admire and respect.

All the ladies had stunning hair thanks to Andrea and Jenna!

In November 2012, several of my friends and I got together and shot a short film regarding the extraordinary life of Anne Boleyn. The final result was approximately 20 minutes, depicting her life from her time with Margaret of Austria to her execution in 1536. Our budget was literally nothing. My camera is nothing special, and neither is the editing program I used. Everything we used in the film we previously owned or made. The costumes, the set, the weapons (we had swords, axes, arrows, bows…ninja stars…they didn’t make it into the film). Everyone chipped in and contributed (we had some amazing hair stylists and seamstresses), and I think it’s safe to say we all had a blast, and everyone, especially the star of our film, learned a great deal about Anne and what it was like during her final days.

The following clip is short and just a peek at what we accomplished that day.

The beautiful Anne Boleyn, played by the equally beautiful and talented Kenzie.

There are so many things I didn’t include in this 90 seconds — George Boleyn’s execution, Anne’s time with Mary, Queen of France, the birth of Elizabeth. Each person involved in this project is so talented and ridiculously cooperative, enthusiastic, and helpful. I was such a bossy cow of a director it’s a wonder they didn’t kill me before the day was out — and most of them want to make another film this year!

I’ve been pestering Kenzie for years, saying that she shares a startling resemblance to Anne. When I asked her if she would like to play Anne in a film, she sort of laughed and sighed and said, “Do I really have a choice?” She was remarkable; she did everything I threw at her and then some. She brought Anne Boleyn to life, and I personally think she did a marvelous job.

So here it is. In memory of Anne Boleyn, Queen of England. May 19th, 1536.

Thanks to Kenzie, Greg, Maggie, Andrea, Sam, Devin, Zozie, Jenna, Emily, Melinda, Tim, and Joan for their cooperation, assistance, talent, and patience. I love you all!

For last year’s tribute to Anne Boleyn, click here.

Mary I, Birthdays, and New Faces

Today in 1516, Henry VIII’s wife Catherine of Aragon gave birth to a girl who would become Mary I, Queen of England. This was while Henry and Catherine’s marriage was still young and relatively fruitful; Mary was their first child — and would be their last — to survive infancy and grow into adulthood.

Whenever I mention Mary to a group of non-history addicted persons, they always light up a bit, pleased they know something, and say, “That’s Bloody Mary, isn’t it?” They proceed to ask me about the curse and the mirror and the alcoholic drink while I try not to pull a Henry VIII and hit the executioner’s emergency number on my speed dial.

I always felt sympathetic towards Mary, especially the Mary I encounter most often, in my reading of the 1520s-1530s, during which time she was declared a bastard, separated from her mother, ignored by her father, and servant for her infant half-sister.

Most of the portraits I’ve seen of Mary are after this time, during her time as Queen or shortly before, and few captured the image I had of the daughter of the beautiful Catherine of Aragon and the (once) handsome Henry VIII. It never made sense, and I feel that in our vain, shallow society, modern perceptions of Mary remain negative in part because of the sour middle-aged woman they see in the well-known portraits that are plastered across book covers and websites.

Admittedly, I know little enough about Mary to properly defend her in conversation, but she’s suffered from misconceptions and generalizations just as dozens and dozens of other controversial women in history.

In my copy of Francis Hackett’s Henry The Eighth – which, from what I can tell, is a 1929 first edition — an apparently rare portrait of Mary stares coyly out at the reader on page 130. I had never seen Mary portrayed in such a youthful, flattering light. Bedecked in beautiful jewels and in the same French fashion as her loathed stepmother, Anne Boleyn, Mary smiles intelligently and piously, an open book on her lap beneath her folded hands.

The caption beneath the portrait reads “Princess Mary, About 1537, From the Painting in the University Galleries, Oxford, London.” This makes her about 21 at the time, a beautiful young women a year after her mother’s death, Anne Boleyn’s execution, and the bastardization of her half-sister, the toddler Elizabeth. In 1537 Mary was enjoying her relationship with her father’s new wife, Jane Seymour, who shared Mary’s religious beliefs and began the reconciliation process between the king and his eldest daughter, a process completed years later by Henry’s sixth wife Katherine Parr.

Still young, still beautiful, after the trauma of her teen years and before the drama of her adult life, this image provides us with an image of Mary that I, at least, haven’t seen until last year when I first opened Francis Hackett’s book.

The twenty-one-year-old Lady Mary as noted in Francis Hackett’s ‘Henry the Eighth.’ Have you seen this portrait before?

Knowing that I had ever seen this before, which I thought was strange as Hackett implied this portrait was contemporary, or near-contemporary, I did some digging. The University Galleries Museum was renamed the Ashmolean Museum (you can read more about the museum and its origins here) and on their website they provide a description for this mysterious portrait of Mary Tudor. After an intensive cleaning in 1976, it was discovered that this portrait that it was, in fact, not a contemporary portrait, but a 19th-century piece perhaps painted over a 17th-century portrait.

At first I was disappointed by my discovery, but looking at the colour image on the website, the image I had been struggling with settled. This is the Mary I imagined, the tragic auburn-haired princess on the cusp of adulthood before her heart was broken and her reputation stained in the centuries to come. While it may or may not be an accurate representation, it’s nice to see that something of the intellectual young woman remains for the public eye, as opposed to the traditional portrayal of an infamous, quickly aging queen.

Ironically, she’s painted in a great deal of red… I suppose we can make of that what we will, but I’m going to enjoy it for what is it: a gorgeous piece of art depicting a beautiful young woman before she was labelled and misunderstood by the world.

The Princess Mary Tudor at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. What do you think? Does she look like either of her parents?

Have any of you seen this portrait of Mary before? Does anyone have any more information about where it came from and who painted it? What do you see in Mary when you look at this image?

-For more information about Mary on the Anne Boleyn Files.
-Francis Hackett’s Henry the Eighth on Amazon.
-Princess Mary Tudor at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford

Anne Boleyn: More than a Vagina

January is a monumental month for Anne Boleyn fans. Not only do we have the speculated date for her secret marriage to Henry VIII on the 25th of 1533, but several other less fortunate events, consisting of what would be the ultimately infamous year 1536. On January 7th, 1536 Catherine of Aragon died at Kenilworth; Henry questionably celebrated the death of his first wife by throwing parties, jousting, doting on his second, legitimate daughter Elizabeth, and wearing ‘yellow for mourning.’ These festivities lasted weeks to the offense of Catherine’s supporters and most of the public.

Yet while Henry saw Catherine’s death as the ultimate finalization of his second marriage, Anne Boleyn, 15 weeks pregnant, was nervous. Her marriage to the king already suffered fissures and cracks, and he had begun to tire of the fiery personality that had won his heart nearly ten years earlier. The king’s eye had begun to wander again, this time to her own lady in waiting, Jane Seymour.

On January 24th, Henry suffered a severe jousting accident and was unconscious for several hours. Anne was understandably distraught, and the stress of Henry’s near-death, her failing marriage, and catching her husband with Jane Seymour ‘on his knee’ likely resulted in the miscarriage of a male foetus on January 29th (ironically the same day as Catherine’s funeral).

This miscarriage is widely acknowledged to be the kick-start of Anne Boleyn’s quick demise from her already-tenuous situation as Queen. I’ve heard the loss of this baby described as her greatest failure.

I pondered this. In conjunction to this ‘failure,’ her birthing the girl who would become Elizabeth I is largely considered her greatest triumph or accomplishment.

Now, I know this is not an universal agreement, but I’ve come across these opinions often enough to feel fair in generalizing it for the sake of this post. I’m also not a mother, so if producing a child is the greatest thing a woman can do in your opinion, that’s great, too.

However, to say that Anne Boleyn’s greatest failure is the miscarriage of a child is a bit inaccurate, don’t you think? She didn’t make the mistake of miscarriage, she didn’t have a choice. Circumstances were unfortunate what with Henry’s accident and her failing marriage, but it was not a failure in the sense that she had a conscious option to instead succeed.

If you want to talk about her greatest failures, perhaps we could include making an enemy of Thomas Cromwell, or underestimating the love of the king, or what colour dress she wore on a certain day. Those are mistakes and failures, things she could have done differently to prevent the outcome that eventually came to be. Miscarriage is a biological occurrence with many factors, factors that the century was unable to control. The loss of her child on January 29th was a tragic happening. It might have been her greatest misfortune, but it was not her greatest failure.

The flip side of this coin is the birth of her daughter Elizabeth almost three years earlier, on September 7th, 1533. Was it her greatest accomplishment? Some might see it that way, and others might see it as a result of chance and good luck. Elizabeth just happened to come to term and survive infancy. Anne had very little part in the enduring existence of her daughter.

In this regard, it might be more fair to say that Anne Boleyn’s influence on Elizabeth was her greatest accomplishment, but even this is uncertain. Like all royal children, Elizabeth was raised by nurses and nannies, and saw her mother only occasionally. There is no doubt that Anne loved Elizabeth, there is no question of that, but Elizabeth wasn’t even three years old when her mother met the French swordsman on May 19th, 1536. Whatever stories were passed down and whatever idea the little bastard princess formulated on her own of Anne Boleyn may have influenced her later actions as both woman and queen, but Elizabeth was her entirely own person. Anne Boleyn had scarce much to do with who her daughter would become.

So was Elizabeth’s birth the greatest accomplishment of the ‘most controversial queen’ in English history? I just can’t say it. Labelling such an extraordinary woman as Anne Boleyn — who I often see as the epitome of womanhood and female strength — for her success as a baby-making machine is something I disagree with. She was much more than a vagina, uterus, and ovaries, despite being forced into the role of fertile, heir-producing queen.

Feel free to share, with credit, of course!

She was a well-read, educated woman who formed her own opinions, supported religious beliefs that were at the time considered incorrect and scandalous, and debated at equal and sometimes superior skill with the highest and most notable noblemen and scholars of her time; she was a patron of the arts, advocate of religious reform, and supporter of the less fortunate. Her friendships — and indeed enmity — with the highest men in the land brought both greatness and demise. She defied the convention of her times by taking the bold step into independence, becoming an utterly unique person envied by all the court, and left everything she knew beyond into the murky waters ahead by capturing the heart of the most powerful man in the country, which led to the separation from the Roman Church and creation of today’s Church of England. She dined and danced with kings and queens, both supported and argued with some of the most distinguished intellects of our history. She married for love, an act in itself unknown. She defended her innocence like few had done. Her infamous death at the hand of a French swordsman and is seen as a beautiful act of bravery and true faith. Her words and actions survive today to inspire new generations of women to embrace who they are and the dare defy what society wants to mold us into.

Yes, she popped out one of the greatest monarchs, but this in itself was not her greatest act.

Anne Boleyn was more than a vagina.

Let them grumble!

Interrupting the programmed schedule for this royal announcement!

On April 29, 2011 I woke up at 2:30 in the morning, lit a candle, grabbed an apple, and staggered downstairs to turn on the TV. At first bleary-eyed but with increasing wakefulness and excitement, I joined millions of others in watching the marriage of the newly-titled Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. We all know how beautiful and fabulous it was, so I won’t linger to long here.

The only thing I’m going to interject is that Kate should have worn her hair all the way up, not half-up. But hey, it wasn’t my wedding!

Since then the media kept spreading rumours of a royal baby. It came in waves, died down for a couple of months, then peaked again. I can only imagine the jokes the couple makes about that.

William holds up the new issue of PeopleMagazine to his wife. “Do you have something to tell me?”

Kate shrugs. “I think the pregnancy tests are a little less reliable than tabloids. What does it say?”

“We’re pregnant.”

“That’s great news! I’m glad they decided to let us know. I couldn’t wait for the next issue to come out.”

And then when I checked my Facebook at 4:00 I let out a shriek. (Being, of course, a bit of a royal fanatic, I’ve ‘liked’ dozens of Facebook pages, mainly relating to the Tudors. Nonetheless, these people are my primary sources of information for the outside realm.) So if you haven’t heard yet or guessed from my poorly foreshadowed intro — there’s a royal baby on the way! 

St James’s Palace made a statement this morning saying that,  ”Their Royal Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge are very pleased to announce that the Duchess of Cambridge is expecting a baby.”

The Duchess has been hospitalized with severe morning sickness and is expected to remain there for several days, one of the reasons for today’s announcement.

Congratulations to the Duke and Duchess, and wishes to the Duchess on a speedy recovery!

~*~

A new law is to be passed giving an elder daughter of William and Kate superiority in the line of succession compared to any future younger brothers.

• William and Kate: Duchess pregnant, palace says
• Breaking Royal Family News: Kate’s Expecting!
• Girls equal in British throne succession

Over the next week I’ll be posting speculations about baby names, royal babies of the past, and add in a little something Tudor. Stay tuned!

No. 1 Hotspot for History Junkies

“I’m something of an antiquarian,” says Matthew Shardlake of C.J. Sansom’s Shardlake Tudor-era mystery novels (which I will review once I’ve finished Book 4).

If you’re of the same human variety as myself, then you must experience the same symptoms. They include, but are not limited to:

• increased heart rate at the smell of old books (though this could just mean you like treasures)
• increased awareness of balance, should you trip over your own feet and smash into a shelf of vintage Coke bottles
• asking your host how old a piece of furniture is before sitting on it
• crying when you’re told a neighbour has thrown away an old item (even if everyone insists it was junk)
• sneaking around the neighbourhood on garbage day, looking for old coffee tables, books, and maybe a hat box that might be sitting, ownerless, on the curb
• hauling your family members into the woods because you found a dump from the fifties — nevermind broken glass and lead toys; you might find something good!
•  the impulse to pull out the pair of cotton gloves you always carry with you when you approach a book published before the sixties

Well, I’m not the one looking though dumps in the middle of the woods, but I love old things. Mainly books and accessories (especially hats!), but I enjoy a nice old 7Up bottle and worn rocking chair once in a while.

So, it may not come as a surprise to you when I say that I’m slightly addicted to antique stores. Not only for the great opportunity to pick up some of Shakespeare’s plays and maybe find an older edition of Pride and Prejudice, but antique stores are full of royal history.

Newspapers and magazines are, generally, slapped hastily against a china dish or stacked sloppily behind a vase. You must search for them. They usually date from the time of Diana’s ‘wedding of the century’ and its aftermath, but I did once come across a number of papers covering the Queen’s 1959 tour of Canada (I regret not buying it now). 

While in Prince Edward Island last week (the reason for my lack of blogging), I had the opportunity to visit about half a dozen antique shops. Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe, Jane Austen, Oscar Wilde, Charles Dickens, and the Bronte sisters adorned the shelves in both new and old editions of their classics. I also foundered across magazines featuring pre-married and married Princess Di, and in one of them, was startled to find a handsome four-page article on our very own Anne Boleyn (wife No.2 of Henry VIII, and easily the most controversial).

I thought it was interesting that Anne Boleyn should be featured in the same gossip magazine as Diana, who is said to be a direct descendant of Anne’s sister Mary (read Claire Ridgway’s guest article on Mary). All three women have been slandered, anglicized, and generally torn apart by both lovers, haters, sympathizers, and indifferent folks. The article itself appeared to be well-researched and pro-Anne, though I noticed the author went with the “Anne had four pregnancies” versus the more plausible “Anne had three pregnancies” (the letter, referencing what some believe to be a fourth child, also referenced a man who had been dead for some time, rendering it, basically, moot). 

It’s fascinating how Anne has survived the centuries and decades, and is still one of the most talked-about and debated Tudor figures. Will someone pick up Eric Ives’ account of her life in twenty, thirty, or a hundred years and be as pleasantly surprised as I was that people are still in love with this thoroughly engrossing woman?

Gosh, I love antique stores. You never know what you’re going to find! It’s like a treasure hunt, a delightful-smelling, educational, endorphin-stimulating treasure hunt! I get lost wondering the magnificent scented rooms, studying old paintings, and wishing I had more money to buy them! However, if I did buy every beautiful thing, I’d quickly have a house full of mathoms (the Hobbit word for something you have no immediate need for, but are unwilling to throw away)!!

The thing(s) I’d most like to find in an antique store are  first (or at least older) editions of Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, and Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia. They would be placed in a glass box on my mantle (though I’d need to build a mantle first!) and treated with utmost care and love. If you ever come across such a find, please let me know!

Sorry, but I must post and run. I need to finish that Shardlake novel (I discovered them at the cottage we borrowed in PEI, and I borrowed them from the owner. Stay tuned for my review. I’m sure it’ll be glowing!) and finish Season 3 of The Tudors!

Blonde vs. Brunette Heroines

For some undefinable reason, blondes and brunettes have been rivals for well over 500 years. Generally, blondes had the upper hand. Fairness was beautiful, a sign of purity and grace, whereas dark complexions were not favoured and darker toned women often tried re-colouring their hair. 

Isolde the Fair

Blondes dominated society and literature, and soon legend became that all heroines were of honey-coloured hair. We have Cinderella, Rapunzel, Isolde (of Tristan & Isolde), Guinevere, the Valkyries (Norse myth), and other iconic, blonde women. Tradition dictates blondes are the most gorgeous — because, ya know, they’re the only ones we know of. Yes, there are exceptions like Snow White and Jo March (one of my favourite characters of all time), but there is an image in our heads that golden locks are attached to the scalps of the girls who get the princes.

I don’t know about you, but even despite the recent amount of rather insulting blonde jokes, I still automatically picture classical women in literature with flaxen hair. Example: whilst reading Romeo & Juliet, Juliet was most definitely blonde. It was only until I watched 1968′s Romeo & Juliet that it even occurred to me that she could be anything other than fair-haired. Rosalind was brunette in my mind — and Juliet wasn’t. Huh. How brainwashed am I?

When I began the earliest drafts of brainstorming for my manuscript on the margins of grocery lists, I knew right away that my heroine was not going to be blonde. She was going to be brunette. Part of it was that I am brunette, and I love it. The more major influence for her hair colour, however, was avoiding that traditional stereotype. Having a female protagonist, blonde? Geez, cliché much, Libby? So she had brown hair. Simple. Easy. Familiar.

A friend and I discussed this yesterday. She mentioned that she made her heroine blonde to escape the stereotype of female main characters with dark hair. At first I didn’t understand what she was saying. What are you talking about? Blonde heroines are the stereotype.

But I thought about it.

In YA novels, especially in recent years, the leading woman is brunette. Hermione Granger of Harry Potter, Arya of The Inheritance Cycle, Katsa of Graceling, Katniss of The Hunger Games, Calwyn of The Singer of All Songs, Bella Swan of Twilight (I only include her to prove my point), Aislinn, Leslie, and Ani of Wicked Lovely, Bitterblue of, er, Bitterblue…Need I continue?* It’d be fascinating to ask these

Leslie, dark-haired heroine of Ink Exchange

 authors if the hair colour of these women was to avoid the blonde stereotype. If so, then it seems that in avoiding the golden stereotype, we’ve only created a new one.

 Fascinating.

And, I really have to say this (my body isn’t allowing me another choice): Anne Boleyn, while famous for her beautiful eyes and elegance, was not considered traditionally attractive by the standards of her time. Dark-haired with darker toned skin, her predecessor, Catherine of Aragon, was generally acknowledged to be more beautiful with her fair hair and blue eyes (or, more conventionally beautiful.), and her successor, Jane Seymour, was a more traditional English Rose with her almost-extreme paleness. The ways of the world are strange. The Victorians, the romanticists they were, often portrayed Anne in art as a blonde, trying to add conventional beauty to enhance her already-tragic end. There. I said it. 

Do you think, that in ten years or so, writers will be making their protagonists blonde to escape the brunette stereotype? Have you contributed to this new stereotype? Have you noticed this before?

*I realize that these are all fantasy or urban fantasy characters. As I generally only read fantasy and historical nonfiction, my variety of dark-haired ladies from other genres is lacking.

Another Nursery Rhyme

[Warning. Longer post than intended.]

Divorced, beheaded, died

Divorced, beheaded, survived.

This nursery rhyme depicts the fate of each of Henry VIII’s wives; ironically it is usually only by their fate they are remembered. Just to give ya’ll a brief run-down of the six women who were married to ‘Bluff King Hal’…

Catherine of Aragon: 1486-1536

This pious, intelligent little woman was married briefly to Arthur Tudor in October 1501 before his death shortly after. She married his younger brother Henry in 1509 when she was 23 and he was 17. She suffered several miscarriages, stillborns, and children who died shortly after birth (take little Prince Henry, alive for 52 days), was strong in her faith, her love for her surviving daughter Mary, and her love and devotion to her husband. Daughter of the Spanish Kings Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile, sister of Juana the Mad, and aunt of Emperor Charles V, Catherine was a princess by birth and by actions. When Henry began his campaign to divorce her, Catherine caused him a rather impressive six-year headache. She was only one of two of Henry’s wives to serve as regent while he was at war. Her daughter would one day become Mary I, or “Bloody Mary.”

Anne Boleyn: c.1501-1536

Witty, fiery, temperamental, intelligent Anne Boleyn was educated under Margaret of Austria and served two Queens of France. She caught the king’s eye when she returned to England to serve Catherine of Aragon, sometime after her sister Mary’s affair with him in the early 1520s. After six years of courtship, Anne and Henry married in secret in 1533, and Anne gave birth to a baby girl on September 7^th. Anne was also highly passionate about the Reform of the Church, and she can be pinned down to the woman responsible for England’s break from Rome. Her pregnancies in 1534 and 1536 both ended in miscarriage, and her argumentative, jealous ways were beginning to wear on her husband, who was starting to pay attention to lady-in-waiting Jane Seymour. Anne was executed on fabricated charges of adultery, incest, and treason on 19 May 1536. Five men were executed in association with her, including her younger brother George. Her daughter became Elizabeth I, or “Gloriana.”

Jane Seymour: c.1508-1537

Not much is known about the pale, prim woman whom Holbein captures on canvas. Quiet, pious, thought to be leaning towards the ‘old religion,’ many people believe her to be the polar opposite of her flighty predecessor Anne. Probably educated and intelligent, Jane was much loved by Henry, and her brothers Edward and Thomas became prominent men in the court. She gave birth in 1537 to the long-awaited male heir, but died shortly after. Her son became the boy-king Edward VI.

 Anne of Cleves: 1515-1557

Educated differently than her predecessors but still intelligent, innocent, and ultimately self-preserving, Anne of Cleves make up Wife No. 4 of the list. Despite having gone down in history as ‘the Flander’s mare’ and the ‘ugly wife,’ modern society generally agrees that Holbein’s portrait of her is the most flattering of the six wives. After the death of Jane Seymour, Henry was persuaded by his man Thomas Cromwell (the figure given credit to the destruction of Anne Boleyn) to marry one of the sisters of the Duke of Cleves, therefore making a Protestant alliance against the Catholic Spain. Holbein was sent to paint the sisters, Anna and Amelia, and became enamoured by the portrait of the elder, Anna. She was sent for and Henry was anxious to meet his 24-year-old bride, but when she finally arrived in England everything fell apart. Henry, the romantic buffoon that he was, decided to sneak up upon Anna in a guise as so many courtly romantic figures did. Unfortunately, Anne, who couldn’t speak a stitch of English at the time, didn’t recognize him (he was disguised, after all!) and ignored the strange man trying to embrace her. It went downhill from there. After a lavish wedding, Henry declared he couldn’t consummate his marriage because his wife just didn’t excite him, but quickly defended his manhood saying he felt he could ‘do so with other women.’ Anyway, Anne readily agreed to an annulment and accepted the title of ‘the King’s beloved sister.’ She was given manors and money and was the highest woman in England save for the King’s wife and his daughters. Anne lived to see her ex-stepdaughter Mary become Queen and rode with Elizabeth in the procession.

Katheryn Howard: c.1521-1542

Polite, energetic, generous, and a bit naïve, this cousin of Anne Boleyn also made her mark on the King. She served Anne of Cleves and quickly caught the King’s eye, steering away from her crush Thomas Culpepper. Katheryn was married to Henry only six weeks after the annulment of his marriage with Anne and quickly became the apple of his eye. His “Rose Without a Thorn” however, had some secrets. After her past and promiscuous life was exposed, the young queen and her lady were sent to block on 13 February 1542. Read my post on Katheryn here.

 Katherine Parr: 1512-1548

Highly intelligent with a passion for the Religious Reform, Katherine was already twice-widowed when she married Henry in July of 1543. She saw her marriage to the King as an act of duty, not necessarily love, and an opportunity to further the Reform. A mother to his two younger children,Elizabeth and Edward, and a friend to his elder daughter Mary, Katherine is often known as the ‘survivor.’ Religious conservatives sought to end her radical ways and was nearly arrested; she endured, however, to become to first English queen to have a book published under her own name. After the King’s death in January of 1547, Katherine and Elizabeth moved to Chelsea where the Queen Dowager lived with her new husband Tom Seymour (brother to Wife No. 3). The remainder of her life was not exceptionally happy, though. Tom was rumoured to have been unfaithful with his own stepdaughter, 13-year-old Elizabeth. Katherine’s behaviour became strange when she joined her husband to his romps in Elizabeth’s bedroom, holding her down while he tickled Anne Boleyn’s daughter. Katherine died on 7 September 1548 after contracting puerperal fever while giving birth to a daughter Mary. It’s not known what happened to little Mary Seymour, but Tom Seymour was executed in January 1549 after attempting to marry Elizabeth. As David Starkey puts it, “Perhaps marriage to Henry had been the better part after all.”

 There is a lot of favouriting and bashing happening with Tudor fans and the wives, especially between Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Insults have been thrown, pathetic hate-Facebook pages have been started, and malice brewed. Why? These women have been gone for nearly 500 years and none of them directly caused the fate of another. I dislike when people pick a ‘favourite’ of the wives — they were people, not colours!

I can understand, however, finding some wives more interesting than the others. For me, the interest from greatest to least goes: Anne Boleyn, Anne of Cleves, Catherine of Aragon, Katheryn Howard, Katherine Parr, and Jane Seymour. Some of it is the personality they’ve left behind, or the legacy, or the end. I do respect each of these brave women and hope others can respect their memories as well.

Further reading:

• Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII by David Starkey, 2003
• The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser, 1992 
• The Anne Boleyn Files also has bios of the wives

OH, and guess what? Claire Ridgway, author of the Anne Boleyn Files, will be guest posting on March 6th as part of her virtual book tour. Don’t miss it!

Another Teenage Queen Loses her Head

[Last Tudor-related post of the week. Promise.]

Katheryn* Howard was a bubbly, generous girl raised by her step-grandmother the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk in a dormitory-esque setting. The Duchess was responsible for several children and the household she ran was similar to that of an informal school. The size of the household — over a hundred people at Lambeth — seems to have allowed the hormone-riddled teenagers to essentially do as they pleased.

After flirting then ditching her music teacher, Henry Mannox,  in 1538 Katheryn set her eyes on Francis Dereham. Dereham was a member of the Duchess’ household and seems to have swept Katheryn off her feet. They began calling each other ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ and their relationship was probably — if not undoubtedly — consummated. If they believed they were married, or as good as, there was nothing wrong with behaving as such. At least, until Mannox became jealous and tipped off the Duchess of her step-granddaughter’s promiscuity. Duchess Agnes was not impressed when she found Katheryn and Dereham ‘embracing’ and flew into a rage, hitting nearly everyone in the room.

Though Dereham was better born than Mannox, it still wasn’t a great match for a girl descended from Edward I, no matter Katheryn’s feelings for him. Incidentally, they cooled while Dereham was in Ireland and she was transferred closer to court, where she met the dashing Thomas Culpepper in 1539.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), while attending on Queen Anne of Cleves, the King fell in love with her.

So, out with Henry VIII’s fourth wife and in with the fifth.

As historian David Starkey puts it, her husband was not the stuff dreams are made of. Henry, at forty-eight, was no longer the lean golden-haired prince of 1509. Balding, overweight with a stinking ulcer on his thigh and with a horrible marital history, Katheryn apparently put some spring back into His Majesty’s step. He was hopelessly in love with the teenage cousin of his second wife, showering her in gifts and jewels.

Katheryn, who had grown up considerly poor, was probably quite happy other than

A miniature identified as Katheryn Howard.

the fact that she was married to a man more than twice her age. She maintained a friendly relationship with Anne of Cleves; after dinner the two regal ladies danced together while the King retired to his chambers. I once read somewhere — probably online – that Katheryn Howard and Anne of Cleves had a lesbian affair.  I don’t believe so and I’ve read no reasonable proof, just as I don’t believe George Boleyn and Mark Smeaton were lovers.

Anyway, Katheryn continued to enjoy her queen-hood, though her husband often had to restrain her from lavishing valuable gifts at everyone she knew. Joan Bulmer, who lived with Katheryn at Lambeth, was inducted as one the new Queen’s ladies-in-waiting and Dereham himself begged his way into becoming her gentleman usher.

Though the King and Queen…met…often, there was no sign of a Duke of York to accompany Jane Seymour’s (Wife No. 3) son Edward in the nursery, despite Katheryn coming from an extremely fertile family. And Henry often spent days in his chambers nursing his swollen legs and decreeing that his wife not be allowed to see him.

Perhaps these days alone reminded Katheryn of her admiration for Thomas Culpepper. Culpepper was in his late twenties, charming, and highly favoured by the King. Historian Antonia Fraser compares him to a young Duke of Suffolk: a ladies’ man who would climb high in royal favour. The Queen, about nineteen now, bestowed upon Culpepper treasured gifts, met secretly at night, and in April of 1541 wrote him a terribly spelt yet passionate love letter.

The fall of Katheryn Howard was a swift, tragic chain of events beginning in early

Tamzin Merchant as Katheryn Howard.

November. Mary Hall, who served in the Duchess’ household at the same time as Katheryn, told her brother of the late-night meetings Katheryn enjoyed with Mannox and Dereham. Her brother then told Archbishop Cranmer, who told the King, who was a little disbelieving but insecure enough to let questioning ensue.

Mannox admitted to flirtation but nothing as horrible as a full-fledged affair. Dereham admitted that he had been pre-contracted to the Queen and of their consummated relationship. Neither of these were a crime. However, Dereham told his interrogators (and torturers?) that ‘Culpepper had succeeded him in the Queen’s affections.’ Jane Boleyn Viscountess Rochford (sister-in-law and wife of Anne and George Boleyn) was also a part of this tale. She, as maid-of-honour, had been the go-between for Katheryn and Culpepper and had encouraged her mistress in persuing the dangerous relationship. Katheryn nervously but continuously maintained her innocence.

On December 1, Dereham and Culpepper were found guilty of treason. On the 10th they were executed, Culpepper by axe but Dereham by a full traitor’s death.

Katheryn was transferred to the Tower of London on 10 February with some resistance. After an Act of Attainder (which spared Henry the grief of signing another wife’s death warrant) was passed on the 11th, Katheryn Howard and Jane Rochford were legally dead. The poor girl was notified on the 12th that she was to die the following day.

Katheryn asked for the block to be brought to her, so she could practise how to place her neck upon it.

On Monday the 13th, Katheryn climbed the scaffold steps, spoke of her sins, love for and goodliness of the King, and called upon God for mercy. She knelt and placed her neck on the block as practised, and her head was struck off.

She might have not reached her twentieth birthday.**

~~~

*The spelling of Katheryn’s name is basically a personal preference. It has been spelt Katherine, Catherine, Katheryn, Kathryn, and Katharine. Many people spell it with a ‘y’ to discern her from Catherine of Aragon and Katherine Parr, or otherwise call her ‘Kitty.’

**The birthdate of Katheryn Howard is unknown, but can be pinned down around 1521-1525, making her between seventeen and twenty-one at the time of her execution.

Further reading:

• The Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser
• Six Wives: the Queens of Henry VIII by David Starkey
• A Tudor Tradegy: the Life and Times of Catherine Howard by Lacey Baldwin Smith

A Teenage Queen Loses her Head

1554 – After watching her husband’s execution from the Tower window and being met by his bloody remains on her journey to Tower Green, Lady Jane Grey mounted the scaffold steps to meet her own end. She was sixteen.

In the will of her also-teenage cousin King Edward VI, Jane was declared heir if he died childless, barring his half-sisters Mary and Elizabeth from the throne. Keeping his sisters from the throne, particulary the devout Catholic Mary, saved England from reversing all the reforming Protestant work Edward had done since inheriting the crown of his father, Henry VIII. Jane and her family were staunch reformers, so it seemed like it would be a successful solution. 

When Edward died at sixteen, Jane had been proclaimed Queen of England. At the same time, Mary Tudor received news that she was now Queen. So WHO WAS THE

A Victorian depiction of the execution of Lady Jane. She was actually executed outdoors, on Tower Green.

REAL QUEEN?

It turns out the real queen was whoever had the bigger army. And Mary had the bigger army. Lady Jane Grey was only Queen of England for thirteen days (though she is remembered as the Nine Day Queen), now it was just a question of her fate. Would she be imprisoned? Turned into a nun? Banished abroad? Executed?

While not an expert on Lady Jane and the events surrounding her, I don’t think Mary wanted her cousin to lose her head, just as Elizabeth I would later drag her feet in the execution of Mary Queen of Scots. However, it would eventually be inevitable.

Her scaffold speech was composed, though her ladies wept profusely for their mistress. Jane knelt, flipped her hair forward and out of the way, and was blindfolded – but terrifyingly couldn’t find the block. There were a few moments of panick before a bystander mercifully guided the young girl.

One stroke.

~~~

It’s speculated that J.K. Rowling based the Grey Lady on Jane Grey.

Further reading:

• Lady Jane Grey’s Execution
• Lady Jane Grey: A Tudor Mystery by Eric Ives
• The Sisters Who Would Be Queen by Leanda de Lisle

Marie R

Wednesday February 8, 1587 – the execution  of Mary Queen of Scots in Fotheringhay.

Mary Queen of Scots

 

It took two swings of the axe, which was then used as a saw, to separate the forty-four-year-old Scottish queen from her head. The story of Mary is a sad one, as she heads off a month littered with the anniversaries of queenly executions — no pun intended.

Queen of Scotland at only six days old, raised in France (she signed herself ‘Marie R’), Dauphiness and then Queen consort of France at fifteen and sixteen, widowed for the first time at eighteen, Mary Stewart/Stuart is ‘One of the most romantic and controversial figures of British history.’

After her execution following a nineteen-year imprisonment by her English cousin Elizabeth I, the following account is re-told by historian Antonia Fraser on page 541 of her book Mary Queen of Scots (1969):

It was now time for the executioners to strip the  body of its remaining adornments before handing it over to the embalmers. But at this point a strange and pathetic memorial to that devotion which Mary Stuart had always aroused in those who knew her intimately was discovered: her little lap dog, a Skye terrier, who had managed to accompany her into the hall under her long skirts, where her servants had been turned away, had now crept out from beneath her petticoat, and in its distress had stationed itself piteously beneath the severed head and shoulders of the body.

While I don’t know that much about Mary compared to some other women of the sixteenth century, I still find her story incredibly tragic and my heart goes out to her. She died with dignity and grace and maintained her faith till the very end.

Further reading about this Scottish queen:

• Fraser, Antonia. Mary Queen of Scots, Weidenfeld & Nicolson. 1969.
• Guy, John. My Heart is My Own, Fourth Estate. 2004.
• Mary Queen of Scots — Part One
• Mary Queen of Scots — Part Two