Elizabeth I at Table

 by Sandra Byrd

"Queen Elizabeth was an intellectual," Colin Spencer tells us in his book British Food: An Extraordinary Thousand Years of History, "highly civilised, and greatly disdained soporific indulgence in huge banquets and orgies of drinking. The menu for her dinner on 17 November 1576, a date that marked the eighteenth anniversary of her succession, was not a special one... A first course of choice of beef, mutton, veal, swan or goose, capon, conies, fruit, custard and fritters, manchet (the best white bread made up in small loaves) ale and wine.  Second course provided lamb or kid, herons or pheasants, cocks or godwits, chickens, pigeons, larks, tart butter and fritters."

Although this may seem like quite a bit of food to us, historian Eric Ives tells us in The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn that at a feast held at the 1532 Field of the Cloth of Gold celebrated by Elizabeth's father, Henry VIII, there were 170 dishes.  As can be seen by the regularly increasing size of Henry's armor (his waist measured 52" at the end of his reign!) these dishes were not only presented to display his wealth but were regularly indulged in. Elizabeth, on the other hand, wore her small rings clear through to the end of her reign.

She cared, too, that her friends ate well for their health. Toward the end of his life, the queen teased her favorite Robert Dudley about his girth. Author Anne Somerset, in her biography, Elizabeth I, says the queen "chaffed him that he should cut his daily meat consumption to 'two ounces of flesh ... and for his drink the twentieth part of a pint of wine.'"

Syllabub

If the Queen herself indulged immoderately in any course it was sweets.  She was known to prefer syllabubs: sweetened wine or cider blended with milk and sugar and whipped into a light, sweet foam, as well as marchpane, an almond paste candy most often known to us as marzipan. Tradition tells us that Elizabeth had bad teeth and that for a while, women attempted to blacken their teeth cosmetically to fit in with her royal appearance.

Elizabeth's sparse eating habits likely contributed to her long life, but her sweet tooth may have brought about her end.  Biographer Alison Plowden says, "The immediate physical cause of the queen's last illness seems to have been a streptococcal throat infection, possibly connected with dental sepsis."

Spencer says, "Elizabeth was keen to bolster the fishing industry by making sure that people consumed fish in Lent and on fast days, because her fleet partly depended on the availability of the fisherman and their craft."  According to author Richard Balkwill in Food and Feasts in Tudor Times, the fish the queen ate so often of would have been kept fresh by being wrapped in cool seaweed and stored in a wet larder at Hampton Court Palace.  England's first sushi?

Hampton Court Kitchens

By the end of the Tudor era, food choices for all were not so much predicated by religious calendars and royal decree as by the wealth of the individual. Author Spencer writes, "It was now becoming possible for individuals to rise in the world, and if you had money, you flaunted it." Sumptuary laws were flouted, and "nothing could stop the gentry from flaunting their riches in food and clothing."  Which meant, of course, black teeth properly earned for the well-to-do of any rank.

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The author of more than fifty books, Sandra’s work has received many awards, nominations, and accolades, including a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly and multiple starred reviews and Best Book selections from Library Journal. Other awards include the Historical Novel Society’s Editor’s Choice award, two Christy Awards finalists, a Bookpage Top Pick for Romance, and inclusion on Booklist’s Top Ten Inspirational Books of the Year list.

As an editor and an in-demand writing coach, Sandra is passionate about helping writers develop their talents and has mentored hundreds of writers at all stages of their writing careers. 

A dedicated foodie, Sandra cooks through the topic and location of every book she writes. In addition, she collects vintage glass and serve ware in her free time, loves long walks with her husband, and Sunday Suppers with her growing family. 

Find the Tudor Ladies in Waiting series here.

The Painted Churches Of England

By Karen Warren

We tend to expect the interior of a Norman English church to be dull grey stone, the only colour provided by the light flooding through the stained glass windows. However, these churches would have looked very different in the Middle Ages.

In those days the church was central to community life. Everyone, whether peasant or nobility, attended church on a Sunday, as well as for important rites such as baptisms and weddings. When they stepped inside the door they would be greeted by a feast of colour. It would seem as if every available surface – not just walls, but pillars and arches too – had been decorated [1].

1

Many of these paintings would have been pictures of well known biblical scenes, or they would have illustrated aspects of medieval Catholic theology, such as heaven and hell, or bands of angels. There would also be pictures of the saints, and a whole range of symbolic images including animals and flowers [2]. To get an idea of the effect, have a look at the stained glass windows in an old church and try to imagine the walls and pillars all covered with similar images.

Why were churches painted in this way? The easy answer is that church buildings were designed for the glorification of God. For the vast majority of people it was the most splendid building they would ever enter, and no time or expense was spared in its construction and decoration. It is possible that wealthy parishioners commissioned paintings for the walls, or bequeathed money for that purpose.

These pictures are popularly described as “the poor man’s Bible”. Many people of the time were illiterate and only the clergy had access to Bibles (which in any case were written in Latin). The theory is that the church paintings had an educational value, telling stories and imparting information to those who could not read it for themselves.

Richard Taylor [3] is sceptical of this idea, pointing out that the images would have been meaningless to anyone who did not already know the story. However, he argues that the pictures would have reinforced the message being delivered from the pulpit. They would also create a shared religious experience: anyone moving to a different part of the country would have recognised the scenes depicted in the local church.

A particular feature of medieval wall paintings is that the characters are always dressed in medieval clothes rather than the clothing they would have worn in biblical times [4]. This may simply be due to a lack of knowledge of (or interest in) the customs of earlier times. However, I would also suggest that a medieval parishioner who saw images of religious figures resembling him or herself would be more likely to identify with those people – and thus with the Christian faith – than they would have done with more remote images. (A similar phenomenon can the observed in the mystery plays – annual enactments of biblical stories – in which Old Testament characters are given distinctly medieval concerns and attitudes.)

Given the ubiquity of the medieval wall paintings, you may wonder why so few are visible today. The blame for this lies largely with the Reformation of the Church in the 16th century. The Church of England under Henry VIII remained broadly Catholic in its religious belief, although not its affiliation. However, Henry’s son Edward VI (and his advisors) had a more protestant vision for the church, and regarded any decoration as idolatrous. The wall paintings were either scraped away or whitewashed over, often to be covered by religious texts. The damage was largely done by the time of Oliver Cromwell and the Puritans a hundred years later, but they destroyed any remaining ecclesiastical artworks.

For centuries people forgot that church walls had ever been decorated. It was not until the Victorian era that churches began to be restored, and the paintings were revealed as old whitewash was removed from the walls. Unfortunately, many were damaged as the paint was chipped away.

2

However, modern restoration techniques have enabled some paintings to be recovered almost in their entirety. New paintings are being discovered all the time, and ways have been found to preserve them as they are uncovered [5].

Surprisingly, there does not seem to be a comprehensive list of all the churches with wall paintings in England, although English Heritage has a map of all the painted walls in its care, including many churches and abbeys [6]. One of the most impressive examples in a church still in use is that of St Peter and St Paul in Pickering, North Yorkshire. East Anglia has many fine painted churches, including St Mary’s at Houghton-on-the-Hill (where the church itself was not rediscovered until 1992).

3

Finally, the tradition of decorating church walls did not entirely die out in the Middle Ages. The Norman church of St Michael in Garton-on-the-Wolds in East Yorkshire was completely repainted with biblical scenes in the 19th century. More modern examples include the Bloomsbury Group murals in the Berwick Chapel in East Sussex, and the artist Stanley Spencer’s paintings at the Sandham Memorial Chapel in Hampshire.

Notes

[1] Matthew Champion, Medieval Graffiti, p4
[2] Richard Taylor, How to Read a Church
[3] Richard Taylor, ibid, p2
[4] Ian Mortimer, The Time Traveller’s Guide to Medieval England, p78
[5] Historic England, Wall Paintings: Anticipating and Responding to Their Discovery
[6] English Heritage, Save Our Story – Wall Paintings 

Photographs all by the author:
1. The Martyrdom of St Edmund at Pickering Church
2. Victorian wall paintings at Garton on the Wolds
3. The Last Judgement, Houghton on the Hill

~~~~~~~~~~

Karen Warren is a travel writer, novelist and book reviewer. Her first novel, Shadow of the Dome, is loosely based on real events in 13th century Mongol China, and was published by Lume Books in 2017. She is currently working on her second novel, based in England and South Africa. This is a contemporary history but has a smattering of the Middle Ages…

Karen writes travel articles for a number of outlets including her own site WorldWideWriter. She is also a book reviews editor for the Historical Novel Society.

Author website: www.karenwarrenauthor.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/karenwarrenauthor/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/karenwarrenauthor/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/WorldWideWriter

Link to Shadow of the Dome on Amazon

Link on publisher website - https://www.lumebooks.co.uk/book/shadow-of-the-dome/

Sudeley Castle and the People Who Lived There

by Judith Arnopp

Set against the backdrop of the Cotswolds near Winchcombe in Gloucestershire, a little north of Cheltenham, lies Sudeley Castle. Throughout history Sudeley has been many things; today it is a family home, a beautiful garden, a historic jewel, and the last resting place of an English queen.

Sudeley remained in the hands of Goda’s family until the reign of Henry V when the castle was gifted to Thomas Boteler by way of repayment for his action in the war with France. It was Boteler who began to transform Sudeley into an enviable property, enlarging and updating the existing fabric of the building to create a place fit for royalty.

When the Lancastrians were defeated and Edward IV took the throne the Boteler family were forced out and Sudeley’s passed into the hands of a new owner, the king’s brother, Richard of Gloucester, later King Richard III.

When the tables turned again and Richard was defeated at Bosworth, Henry VII bestowed it on his loyal uncle, Jasper Tudor. After Jasper’s death Sudeley once more became crown property.

Henry VIII visited once with Anne Boleyn. They met with Thomas Cromwell there to discuss the reformation of the monasteries and took a keen interest in the Blood of Christ housed at nearby Winchcombe Abbey. After this the castle was run down and unoccupied for much of the time.

On his accession to the throne, Edward VI made his uncle, Thomas Seymour, Lord of Sudeley and after his marriage to Katheryn Parr, Seymour and his new wife made a home there.

The Seymours implemented many improvements and Katheryn took great care in choosing the décor of the nursery for their expected child. Tragically, to Thomas Seymour’s sorrow and detriment, Katheryn died scarcely a year later, having given birth to a healthy daughter, whom they named Mary. Thomas was executed for treason less than a year later and their child placed in the care of Katherine Willoughby, Duchess of Suffolk, but fades from the historical record shortly afterwards; it is likely that she died in infancy.

With Thomas’ ward, Lady Jane Grey, acting as chief mourner Katheryn was laid to rest in St Mary’s church adjacent to the castle. Today visitors to Sudeley can view a love letter and portrait gifted to the queen by her husband.

Katheryn’s step-daughter and friend, Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I, visited Sudeley on three occasions during her reign. It is easy to imagine her walking in the garden, remembering her stepmother, recalling conversations and small personal details of their shared life that are now lost to history.

Sudeley’s story doesn’t end with the Tudors. During the civil war Prince Rupert made the castle his headquarters, and Charles I stayed there for a time during the campaign to take Gloucester.

During the course of the war, Sudeley passed back and forth between Royalist and Parliamentarian hands until Parliament ordered the ‘slighting’ of Sudeley making the house indefensible. The roof was removed and afterwards fell swiftly into decay. The fine worked stone was quarried by locals until the castle became nothing more than a romantic ruin. For the next two hundred years, at the mercy of the elements, it became a trysting place for lovers, or a hideaway for thieves.

In 1782, Katheryn Parr’s grave was rediscovered. The lead casket was opened and the body within reported to be 'uncorrupted'. She was reinterred in 1817 by the Rector of Sudeley and a plaque copied from the original inscription on the lead coffin was placed upon it. Today you can see a later, Victorian effigy of Katheryn on the tomb.

Sudeley remained in elegant decay until the nineteenth century when it was bought by two brothers, John and William Dent, who embarked upon a restoration project. They employed architect Sir Gilbert Scott to restore the chapel. The walls and large parts of the castle were restored and the finishing touches applied by Lady Emma Dent who spent almost fifty years restoring and filling Sudeley with fine art and historical artefacts.

The Tudor style parterre we see today is a reconstruction but it is easy to imagine Katheryn there, inhaling the scent of the flowers, the kiss of summer rain on blush pink petals.

While you move quietly between the roses, or pass through the old yew hedges you might imagine her footstep on the gravel behind you, or catch a glimpse of hanging sleeves or the flick of a scarlet kirtle as she turns a corner.

Sunday the 2nd of September 2018 Sudeley Castle is holding a Katherine Parr day! Why not visit it and see for yourself.

Photographs: Sudeley Castle property of Judith Arnopp 2018

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Judith Arnopp is the author of ten historical novels including:

The Beaufort Chronicle: comprising of

The Beaufort Bride – also on Audible

The Beaufort Woman – also on Audible

The King’s Mother - coming soon on Audible

A Song of Sixpence: the story of Elizabeth of York and Perkin Warbeck – coming soon on Audible

The Kiss of the Concubine: A story of Anne Boleyn – also on Audible

The Winchester Goose: at the court of Henry VIII

Intractable Heart: the story of Katheryn Parr

The Song of Heledd

The Forest Dwellers

Peaceweaver

You can learn more about Katheryn Parr’s life in Judith's book Intractable Heart; the story of Katheryn Parr.

She is currently working on Sisters of Arden, set during the dissolution of the monasteries and the Pilgrimage of Grace. All books on Kindle and in Paperback.

For more information, see Judith Arnopp Books and her website, www.judithmarnopp.com.

The Reformation: Henry & Luther

By Samantha Wilcoxson

Martin Luther and the 95 Theses
by Ferdinand Pauwels, 1872

On October 31, 1517, a monk named Martin Luther nailed his 'Disputation on the Power of Indulgences' to the door of Castle Church in the village of Wittenberg, Germany. He had no way of knowing that his desire to discuss and debate the Catholic Church practice would cause his name to go down in history. Five hundred years later, Luther's name is boldly emblazoned upon the facades of thousands of churches, and his call for discussion is better known as the 95 Theses.

Some historians have questioned whether Luther really posted his comments on the eve of All Saint's Day, wondering if the meaningful date is correct or whether it is a task that the professor of theology would have carried out himself. However, the events and changes that resulted from Luther's actions and writings cannot be denied, even if the theses nailing to the church door may be myth posing as history. Thanks to the boldness of one German monk and the innovation of the printing press, what it meant to be a Christian changed across Europe.

Because of the Gutenberg printing press, Luther's ideas did not remain quietly within the village of Wittenberg. They were translated from Latin into German, and eventually other languages, and spread like wildfire. Unlike reformers of the past, who were often limited by their own geography, Luther became a voice against the corruption of the Catholic Church far beyond his little corner of the world. By the following year, Luther was charged with heresy and had to return from his hearing in Augsburg under the protection of Friedrich III of Saxony.

Martin Luther's
On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church

In England, Luther's ideas were countered by the king himself. Henry VIII wrote his 'Defense of the Seven Sacraments' in response to Luther's treatise, 'On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church.' It was this work of Luther's more than the 95 Theses that outlined his grievances against the Catholic Church. (Some historians question whether the work in Henry's 'Defense' can be completely attributed to him, but we shall assume here that it can.) In 1521, Martin Luther was excommunicated while Henry was awarded by the Pope with the title of Defender of the Faith.

Excommunication did not slow Luther down. He translated the Bible into German (helping define and unite the common German language), attended the Diet of Worms where he made his famous 'I neither can nor will recant' statement, and got into a bit of an argument with the King of England.

The 'little monk,' as Henry had called him in his 'Defense' did not hesitate to respond to his detractor. Luther was perhaps the first to publicly question Henry's authorship of the treatise, claiming that it should not be taken seriously for the king did not even write it. Soon afterward, Luther apologized for the accusation and attacked Wolsey, 'the scourge of thy kingdom,' instead. This, of course, did not earn Henry's forgiveness, but only spurred him to defend the minister he depended upon so heavily at that time.

Henry VIII's
Defense of the Seven Sacraments

In typical Henry VIII style, the king used Luther's accusation later when he wished to dissolve his marriage with Katherine of Aragon. Claiming that it was Wolsey's hand behind his defense of the sacrament of marriage, Henry appealed for support. Luther, who in his booklet 'Against Henry, King of the English' had been open-handed with insults for the king, gave his support to the devoutly Catholic Katherine. Among other choice words, Luther accused the king of being 'a fool,' 'effeminately querulous,' and 'stupid.'

Henry began as a staunch supporter of the Catholic Church while Luther hoped to reform it. Despite their original intentions, it was Henry who broke with Rome while Protestants took up Luther's name to apply it to their own movement. These two men's motivations were completely different, although they led to the same result. Henry began the Church of England to exert his own authority over that of the pope, while Luther had not intended to start his own church but to correct the corruption in Rome.

Both men took their important places in Reformation history, though neither began with the goal of separating from Rome. With the benefit of 500 years of hindsight, we can see how each of these men helped lead the Protestant movement. Henry set the stage for reformation in England, despite the fact that his faith was Catholic in all tenets besides papal authority, with his 1534 Act of Supremacy. Once the break had been made, it was easy for his son, Edward VI, or advisors acting with his authority, to usher in full Protestantism.

Henry VIII and the Barber Surgeons
by Hans Holbein the Younger

Luther agreed with Henry that the Pope was not the highest or an infallible authority. However, while Henry wished to place himself above all others, Luther preached that the Bible alone - sola scriptura - could offer the authority of God. They would have also agreed upon the true presence of Jesus' body and blood in the sacramental bread and wine. Henry had subjects punished for denying transubstantiation, and it was a point that Luther refused to budge on despite the urging of other reformists. Christians today remain divided on the topic.
These two giants of the early 16th century died less than a year apart, Martin Luther on February 18, 1546, and Henry on January 28, 1547. One can only imagine what they would think of the impact that their ideas and actions continue to have on our society 500 years later.

Additional Reading
Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet by Lyndal Roper
Various writings of Henry VIII and Martin Luther


All images in the public domain through Wikimedia Commons
~~~~~~~~~~

Samantha Wilcoxson is the author of the Plantagenet Embers series featuring women of the Wars of the Roses and Tudor England.

An incurable bibliophile and sufferer of wanderlust, Samantha lives in Michigan with her husband and three teenagers. You can connect with her on her blog or on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Goodreads.

The Evidence Against Elizabeth

by Samantha Wilcoxson

Elizabeth I: The Coronation Portrait

Queen Elizabeth I has become fabulously more popular in our time than she was in her own, and she is often held up as a shining example of feminism or listed as one of England's greatest monarchs. Whether she was or not is an interesting subject for debate, but we would not be able to have it if Elizabeth's sister, Queen Mary I, had not refused to execute the girl for treason.

What evidence was there against the Lady Elizabeth? More than you might think and certainly more than had doomed many others.

When Mary became queen, many influential people, Bishop Steven Gardiner and Spanish ambassador Simon Renard chief among them, discouraged Queen Mary's naive trust in her younger sister. Mary did not completely ignore their advice, not keeping a close guard on Elizabeth but also not giving her the type of court position enjoyed by others, such as Margaret Douglas and Jane Dormer. Elizabeth was her heir after all, though Mary hoped to soon remedy that situation by having a child of her own.

Elizabeth was in greater danger of losing her position due to charges of treason than by being replaced by a young niece or nephew.

The strongest evidence against Lady Elizabeth was Wyatt's Rebellion. In December 1553, Elizabeth requested to leave her sister's court, and that permission was granted, though many advised Mary to keep Elizabeth close enough to monitor her activity. By January, information about the multi-pronged rebellion were being quickly uncovered. Edward Courtenay was involved in the plot with the goal of stopping Queen Mary's marriage to Prince Philip at minimum, with a higher goal of placing himself on the throne as Elizabeth's husband.

Entry of Queen Mary I with Princess Elizabeth
into London in 1553
by John Byam Liston Shaw, 1910

When Elizabeth was summoned to return to court and give testimony regarding her knowledge and possible involvement in the plot, she claimed poor health made it impossible for her to travel. To make matters worse for Elizabeth, a copy of a letter she had written to the queen was found in the possession of a French spy just as Nicholas Carew, a leader in the rebellion, fled to France to avoid arrest.

The truth of Elizabeth's involvement in Wyatt's Rebellion is one of history's great mysteries, but there is little doubt that she had knowledge that she did not share with her sister, the queen. For her part, Mary rallied the people of London to stand in her defense against the rebels in a speech that proved she was her father's daughter. It was a resounding success, and Wyatt's forces found that their entrance to the city was denied.

The rebellion quelled, several executions took place, including that of Wyatt himself along with Henry Grey and his daughter the 'nine day queen', but Mary hesitated to take such a severe step against her sister and heir. Elizabeth continued to ignore summons to London, and Wyatt testified that he had communicated with Elizabeth through servant William St Loe, though he admitted that Elizabeth's reply had been characteristically noncommittal. Elizabeth denied any connection with Wyatt or the French, but Mary sent an escort to put an end to her sister's excuses to avoid court.

When questioned, Elizabeth gave the sort of evasive and clever responses she has become well known for, at one point even claiming she could not recall if she owned a certain estate. Yet, more concrete evidence of her involvement could not be established, and Mary could not be persuaded to bring charges against her without greater certainty. Mary would not continue the sorts of executions that her predecessors had signed off on against the likes of Edward of Warwick, Edward Stafford, and Margaret Pole. Instead, Elizabeth was left in gilded captivity for two months before being moved to house arrest at Woodstock until she was brought to Hampton Court to wait upon the queen in April 1555.

Mary I of England
by Hans Eworth, 1554

In 1556, Elizabeth's name was tied to rebellion once again. This time, it was Sir Henry Dudley who led the scheming to place Elizabeth and Edward Courtenay on the throne in Mary's place. The conspiracy was found out before it could come to fruition, and servants of Elizabeth were arrested for having knowledge of it. But did Elizabeth herself know of the plot and support it? Once again, Mary could not be convinced with certainty, so Elizabeth remained free though the relationship between the sisters was more strained than ever.

Not only could Elizabeth easily have been charged with treason, she also left herself open to conviction for heresy. In Henry VIII's England, the two crimes were closely tied, but Mary chose to have patience with her sister in this arena as well. Hoping that Elizabeth could be converted to the Catholic faith, the queen brought her sister to mass only to hear her "complain loudly all the way" and make no commitments beyond exploring the faith to determine "if her conscience could allow her to be persuaded" to convert.

Any one of these incidents would have been enough for charges of treason to be brought up against a subject of King Henry VIII. Therefore, we have the mercy of Queen Mary to thank for the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

Additional Reading
Mary Tudor: Princess, Bastard, Queen by Anna Whitelock
The First Queen of England by Linda Porter
The Children of Henry VIII by Alison Weir

All images in the public domain through Wikimedia Commons
~~~~~~~~~~

Samantha Wilcoxson is the author of the Plantagenet Embers Trilogy featuring women of Tudor England.

An incurable bibliophile and sufferer of wanderlust, Samantha lives in Michigan with her husband and three teenagers. You can connect with her on her blog or on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Goodreads.

Mary I: Her Mother's Daughter

by Samantha Wilcoxson

Katherine of Aragon as the Madonna
painted by Michael Sittow

We all inherit a few habits and characteristics from our mothers – for better or worse. This is no less true for Queen Mary I and her mother Katherine of Aragon. The interesting thing about the similarities between these women is that one is remembered rather fondly and with great sympathy, while the other has been branded with the label ‘Bloody Mary.’

Katherine is widely admired for her refusal to back down when Henry VIII decided to set her aside. A bold combination of stubbornness and faith gave Katherine the strength to remain steadfast, regardless of what Henry put her through. She was never disrespectful, often saying that she would honor her husband’s will in all things, save where her conscience demanded that she followed God. Similar words would be used by her daughter. Henry appreciated the sentiment from neither.

Mary stood up to her father, much as her mother had, continuing to proclaim her love and respect for him while at the same time demanding that no title besides Princess was appropriate for her. Henry had long separated Mary from her mother, but she had her governess, Margaret Pole the Countess of Salisbury, at her side to bolster her up (at least until that great lady’s execution in 1541). The two of them refused Henry’s request for Mary’s royal jewels and denied Anne Boleyn’s status as queen.

Henry decided to break up Mary’s household in order to bring her into line. Margaret Pole was crushed to have Mary removed from her care and offered to cover all household expenses if Mary was left with her. Henry refused and instead forced Mary to serve in the household of her infant half-sister. This time may have seemed like the nadir of Mary’s life, but the knowledge of her mother’s courage in even worse circumstances gave her the strength to go on.

Katherine of Aragon
1st Queen of Henry VIII

After Henry’s death, Mary's life changed, but the challenges did not cease. With young Edward VI surrounded by reformist advisors, the faith that had seen Mary through tough times put her at odds with the brother she loved. Katherine had given Mary an example in this as well. When faith was all that Katherine had left, abandoned by her husband and her health failing, she had demonstrated to her daughter that it was all she needed. Mary also clung to her faith, having mass held within her household long after it was outlawed by Edwardian statutes. She was prepared to be a martyr for her faith.

Mary probably had not expected to be queen once she had a brother so many years younger than herself. Yet, when Edward died in 1553, Mary proved that she had inherited the strength of a true queen from her mother. Katherine had never doubted that Mary should be Henry’s heir and that he had no need for a son. Henry had clearly disagreed, but Mary’s chance came anyway.

Both Katherine and Mary could be submissive and pious, believing deeply in the specific roles that God had assigned to them. However, they could each be bold and courageous when they believed God’s will was being thwarted. Katherine proved this when she served as regent for Henry in the war against Scotland and in the battle for her marriage, and Mary proved it in her journey to the throne.

Queen Mary I
Daughter of Katherine of Aragon

Few anticipated any serious challenge from the Lady Mary when the council schemed to place her cousin, Lady Jane Grey, on the throne in her place. Sure, Mary had clung stubbornly to the mass against Edward’s wishes, but she had also done her best to stay away from court and live quietly. Edward’s Devise for the Succession had not had the chance to make its way through Parliament, but it was expected that his sisters could be subdued if necessary. If they thought that they would easily neutralize Henry VIII’s daughters, they were heartily disappointed.

Mary had submitted to many humiliations in her life by this time. She was 37, unmarried and childless, since neither her father or brother wished to legitimize her position or give her the power of a husband at her side. But when it was her turn for the crown, she proved, once again, that she was Katherine of Aragon’s daughter.

As it turned out, she had little opposition. Edward’s councilors may have convinced themselves that Jane would be easily accepted, but the people still had fond memories for the Princess Mary and sympathy for her shoddy treatment. Jane’s reign was ended within a fortnight, and Mary was queen, just as her mother always knew she would be.

Additional Reading
Mary Tudor: Princess, Bastard, Queen by Anna Whitelock
The First Queen of England by Linda Porter
The Children of Henry VIII by Alison Weir

All images in the public domain through Wikimedia Commons
~~~~~~~~~~

Samantha Wilcoxson is the author of the Plantagenet Embers Trilogy. Queen of Martyrs, the final installment in the series was recently released featuring Queen Mary I.

An incurable bibliophile and sufferer of wanderlust, Samantha lives in Michigan with her husband and three teenagers. You can connect with her on her blog or on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. 

Was Bishop Stephen Gardiner a Secret Tudor?

By Nancy Bilyeau

Finding illegitimate children in the Tudor royal family is a favorite pastime for some. Chief among the theoretical parents of these children would be Henry VIII, of course. (You'd be amazed to learn how many debates rage over whether Mary Boleyn's two Carey children were fathered by Henry VIII shortly before he fell in love with Anne Boleyn...Or maybe you wouldn't!) Elizabeth I is also accused of giving birth to secret babies, with theories targeting Thomas Seymour and Robert Dudley that would make TMZ reporters blush.  As for the Elizabeth-as-bad-girl premise of the movie Anonymous, we are not going there.

The one and only accepted illegitimate child of a royal Tudor is Henry Fitzroy, son of Henry VIII and Bessie Blount, a beautiful maid of honor to Catherine of Aragon. Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond, may or may not have been considered as a possible heir to the throne by Henry VIII before the boy died in 1536.

But was there another Tudor male in the 16th century, born on the wrong side of the blanket as they used to say, who not only lived through four Tudor reigns but was a key player at court?

Stephen Gardiner

Stephen Gardiner, the bishop of Winchester, was the grandson of Jasper Tudor, Henry VIII's great-uncle, and a mistress named Mevanvy ferch Dafydd from Gwynnedd, according to a persistent theory. If the rumors are true, Gardiner's mother, Ellen, was first cousin to Henry VII. She married a cloth merchant named Gardiner and Stephen was one of their children. He attended Cambridge at a young age and studied the classics, even meeting Erasmus.

Before we go any further, it must be said that Gardiner brought out fear and dislike among many of those who knew him. Moreover, in Tudor television series, Stephen Gardiner has been portrayed with evident relish by a series of actors as a Grade A Jerk:

"The Six Wives of Henry VIII"




Wolf Hall

The Tudors

In these shows, he's the man you love to hate. When Edward Seymour punches Gardiner in the face during the last episode of The Tudors, you feel good. When the bruise-faced bishop goes running to Henry VIII to tattle and has the door closed in his face, you feel even better.

Screenwriter license aside, how did this loathsome churchman reach a position of power in the Tudor court? Was it that he was family? Not likely. Henry VIII didn't care for his extended family; he executed them steadily throughout his reign.

The reason for Gardiner's prominence in the 16th century was his brain. Even his enemies grudgingly conceded his intelligence. His nickname during his lifetime: "Wily Winchester." The lawyer, royal secretary, councilor, and bishop survived Henry VIII's reign. A religious conservative, he was thrown into the Tower of London during the reign of Protestant Edward VI and occupied a cell for years. One of Queen Mary's first acts was to spring him (along with his old friend the Duke of Norfolk). Gardiner crowned her and served as her lord chancellor. He distrusted Princess Elizabeth and pressured the Queen to imprison her half-sister after the Wyatt Rebellion. It's safe to say that if he had lived to see Elizabeth take the throne, he would have been ushered back into the Tower.

In her book Henry VIII: The King and His Court, Alison Weir describes Gardiner as "an able but rather arrogant and difficult man":

He was of swarthy complexion and had a hooked nose, deep-set eyes, a permanent frown, huge hands, and a "vengeable wit." He was ambitious, sure of himself, irascible, astute, and worldly. Henry came to rely on him, sending him on important diplomatic missions and telling everyone that, when Gardiner was away, he felt as if he had lost his right hand; yet he was also aware that the Secretary could be two-faced.

Henry VIII and Bishop Gardiner had a complex relationship. They feuded with each other (as much as one can feud with Henry VIII), and the king withheld promotions Gardiner obviously longed for. Then, suddenly, he would be back on top. When the king made him bishop of Winchester, he said, "I have often squared with you, Gardiner, but I love you never the worse." Gardiner was an enemy of Cromwell's who relished destroying him. He also despised Thomas Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, but was unable to turn the king against him. In 1540-1541 Gardiner was in Germany, representing England at a Diet convened to try a last time to heal the breach between Catholic and Protestant. (Both Calvin and Charles V also attended.) It was a delicate and important mission--which failed, through no fault of Gardiner's.

Henry VIII

But the bishop tried to have Henry's last wife, Catherine Parr, arrested for heresy, and when his plot failed, that contributed to his decline of influence. The king excluded him from his will. Henry's technique in controlling his councilors was to pit them against each other and stoke their fears. Gardiner's Protestant opponents claimed after Henry VIII's death that in excluding him from the will and list of councilors for Edward, the king explained that only he could control Stephen Gardiner.

The bishop's relationship with Henry's oldest daughter, Mary, also had its difficult moments. Early in his career, Gardiner devoted his legal brain to the king's case for annulment of the first marriage to Catherine of Aragon so that he could marry Anne Boleyn. Therefore, even though he was one of Mary's adherents, she never could bring herself to trust him completely. Once she was queen, Gardiner wanted her to wed an Englishman, and opposed her marriage to Philip of Spain, repeatedly trying to talk her out of it.

Mary I

Stephen Gardiner died in 1555. One story has it that on his deathbed he said, "Like Peter, I have erred. Unlike Peter, I have not wept."

A strange thing to say. He was, it's safe to say, a strange man.

But was he related to the Tudors, whom he served and quarreled with for so many years? Returning to Jasper Tudor, the man was something of a warlord in a time when he didn't have a choice. During the Wars of the Roses, Jasper possessed two qualities in short supply: loyalty and patience. He supported his half-brother, Henry VI, without question, and did everything possible to help his nephew, the future Henry VII.

It was very important that Lancastrian nobles marry and beget heirs--the Yorkists were way ahead in that regard. Yet Jasper did not marry until after the Battle of Bosworth when he was 54 years old, and he wed the dowager duchess of Buckingham. They had no children. Since much of his earlier life was spent in battle, regrouping from battle, going into hiding, and living in exile in France or Brittany, perhaps he did not feel a wife was possible. A mistress made more sense.

In Gardiner's lifetime, no one said he was the grandson of Jasper Tudor, or at least it hasn't shown up in contemporary letters and papers. In the 18th century, this "fact" popped up in Cockayne's Peerage and a reverend's genealogical table. It gained strength over the years, though some always had their doubts.

Recent studies of Jasper Tudor do not dispute that he fathered one or two illegitimate daughters but suggest there could be some confusion over whether Ellen married the Gardiner who was the father of Stephen or another man with the same last name. It's unclear. The suggestion that he would need discreet royal blood to get into Cambridge and then rise in legal and ecclesiastical circles is not true. Gardiner's father was a prosperous cloth merchant, and the Tudor period was a time of men rising on their merits: the "new men," as they were called.

And so Stephen Gardiner may have achieved every illustrious promotion and survived every shouting match with a strong-willed king or queen not because he had Tudor blood but .... because he was Stephen Gardiner. A reality I suspect that Wily Winchester would have been prepared to accept.

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Nancy Bilyeau is the author of the Tudor trilogy The Crown, The Chalice, and The Tapestry, published in nine countries. The main character is a Dominican novice named Joanna Stafford; an antagonist running through the plot of each book is Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester.

The Crown was an Oprah selection in 2012. The Tapestry was a finalist for the Daphne du Maurier award for Best Historical Suspense this year.

Nancy is giving away seven signed hardcover copies of The Tapestry. To enter, please go HERE.

Top and Bottom - or - Whose History is it Anyway?

by Derek Wilson

As I see it there are two major problems about our approach to the study of history today. The first is that we look at it backwards. That may seem so glaringly obvious as to be not worth saying but we should remind ourselves of it if we want to understand how people in past ages felt about the events through which they lived. They didn’t know what the outcome of these events would be. We do. And its that knowledge that tends to colour how we record the past and assess the past.

The second problem is our obsession with ‘top people’. Biographers, novelists and popular historians seem to be as starry-eyed about, for example, Richard III, Anne Boleyn or Mary Stuart as today’s teenage fans are about pop music celebs. Glamorising the lives of our favourite heroes and heroines is nothing less than a distortion of our common cultural heritage. Surely, the 19th century historian, Lord Macaulay was right when he wrote,

‘The history of the government and the history of the people [should] be exhibited in that mode in which alone they can be exhibited justly – in inseparable conjunction and intermixture.’

How have we got into this mess? I’m sure a fundamental answer to that question is the way history has been taught in schools for generations. For example, I recall as an ‘A’ level student grappling with the Dissolution of the Monasteries and the Pilgrimage of Grace. I and fellow sufferers were expected to memorise all the relevant Acts of Parliament and to be able to wax eloquent about the motivation of Henry VIII. I simply could not engage with the subject. Fortunately, I came across H.F.M. Prescott’s wonderfully moving book The Man on a Donkey and, through reading that, I became aware of what these ‘historic events’ actually meant. Yes, it was a novel (though Hilda Prescott was an academic historian with an excellent grasp of facts) and that illustrates another reason why the stories of ‘little people’ get squeezed out of the narrative by the endless repetition of the actions of kings and queens, in their sumptuous surroundings: the folk lower down the social scale leave fewer records of their experiences. To write about them demands a greater commitment to original research.

To sharpen the focus on what I am trying to say let us consider Kett’s Rebellion of 1549. For fifty days in that hot summer, Norwich, the second city in the land, was besieged, captured and held against the government by 16,000 angry Englishmen. We know that this popular rising failed, that 3,500 rebels were slain in the bloody showdown and that the body of the ringleader, Robert Kett, was hanged on a gibbet at Norwich Castle where it slowly rotted away in the plain sight of all the citizens. Because nothing came of this popular protest it tends to be glossed over by writers more interested in what was happening in the corridors of power where the Duke of Somerset fought a losing battle to hang onto his position as Protector of the Realm. Yet for the victims of unrest, who saw their houses burned down or their sons and brothers killed in the fighting, Kett’s Rebellion was the biggest life-changing event of their lives and certainly worthy of being recorded.

Kett's Oak, beside the B1172, near Hethersett, Norfolk

The Dissolution of the Monasteries (the biggest land grab in English history) created a territorial free-for-all as hundreds of thousands of acres of confiscated land were sold by the Crown. It was a property speculator’s paradise. Most new estate builders were primarily interested in extracting as much profit as possible from their holdings with the result that traditional tenants’ rights and customs often went by the board. The rural backlash soon grew nasty. Mobs of outraged yeomen and peasants over a wide area began tearing down fences and uprooting hedges. Feelings rose particularly high in Norfolk where, on 8 July, local landowner, Robert Kett, turned an undisciplined rabble into an organized protest march and advanced on the county town of Norwich. His army encamped on nearby heathland from where Kett issued his demands to the government. The situation was complicated by the fact that the Duke of Somerset declared his sympathy for the common people, which encouraged Kett to believe that he was only carrying out government policy when he commandeered food for his army from the citizens and local farmers. Needless to say, the leaders of Norfolk society did not see things this way and demanded the immediate suppression of the rebellion.

Robert Kett and his followers under the Oak
of Reformation on Mousehold Heath

Somerset dithered. On 21 July Kett temporarily occupied Norwich and dismantled part of the wall. A week later Somerset sent an inadequate force led by the inexperienced Marquess of Northampton to restore royal authority. This prompted Kett to make a night assault. One eye-witness described the scene as the rebels rampaged through the streets:

‘nothing was seen or heard but lamentation and weeping … the clashing of weapons, the flames of the burning, the ruin and fall of houses, and many other fearful things which … struck with incredible sorrow the hearts and ears of all that heard it’. 

Northampton was driven out and returned, humiliated, to London.

The capital now fell into a state of panic, expecting that Kett would march south, gathering an ever-increasing army for an assault on the capital. A curfew was imposed, the guard was doubled on all the gates and loyal troops were brought in to defend the capital. Still Somerset took no firm action. Only on 7 August did he authorize a larger military expedition, including 1,000 German mercenaries, led by the Earl of Warwick to retake Norwich. Kett was sent a demand to surrender and assured of lenient treatment. His refusal led to the Battle of Dussindale at which rebels, most of whom wielded makeshift weapons, were massacred by Warwick’s professional troops.

John Dudley, Earl of Warwick

On his return to the capital the earl was welcomed as a hero. For him and his conciliar colleagues Dussindale was the last straw. They plotted the overthrow of the Protector and seized control of the Tower of London (6 October). A week later Somerset surrendered. He was placed in the Tower while members of the Council plotted and intrigued in a process from which Warwick emerged as the de facto ruler of England.

There could scarcely be a better example of the ‘history of government’ and the ‘history of the people’ intermixing to decide the fate of the nation. That is certainly one reason why I decided to set my latest novel, The Devil’s Chalice, against the background of these events taking place in the capital and in the provinces, affecting men and women at all levels of society. In a preface to The Man on a Donkey, Hilda Prescott explained that she was attempting

To introduce the reader into a world, rather than at first to present him with a narrative. In that world he must for a while move like a stranger, as in real life picking up, from seemingly trifling episodes, understanding of those about him, and learning to know them without knowing that he learns.

I would like to think that my book has the same effect on readers. If you have not yet encountered The Man on a Donkey I hope you will seek out a copy.

[all above images in the public domain, via Wikiepedia]

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Derek Wilson has been writing historical fiction and non-fiction since the mid 1970s and is the author of 70+ books, as well as work for radio and television and innumerable newspaper and magazine articles. After graduating from Cambridge in History and Theology, he spent some years teaching and travelling abroad before settling to a freelance writing career. He specializes in the Reformation but his large output includes studies of the Rothschild family, the Plantagenets, Peter the Great, Charlemagne and the history of circumnavigation. He lives in Devon and is the patriarch of a family of three children and six grandchildren. His most recent release is ‘The Devil’s Chalice’, published by MadeGlobal.

Giveaway of The Devil's Chalice HERE