Showing posts with label King Charles I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label King Charles I. Show all posts

Friday, January 24, 2020

The Banqueting House

By Cryssa Bazos

January 30 is the anniversary of the execution of King Charles I in 1649, and I am reminded of the place where this drama played out--the Banqueting House at Whitehall.

The Banqueting House- Wikimedia Commons

Completed in 1622, the Banqueting House is the only remaining structure of Whitehall Palace and is situated across from Horse Guards Parade. During the Tudor age, the original Banqueting House was little better than a temporary venue. When King James I of England (VI of Scotland) succeeded Elizabeth on the throne in 1603 and ushered in the Stuart Age in England, he got down to work building a proper Banqueting House. His queen, Anne of Denmark, had been fond of masques and was a patroness of the arts.

The famous 17th century architect, Inigo Jones, was commissioned to design the building. What you have is a beautiful example of Palladian architecture with stately pillars and expansive high ceilings. Galleries line the upper hall. But what is truly a marvel in the Hall did not exist until King Charles I succeeded his father to the throne.

Interior Hall: Photo by C. Bazos

Charles commissioned the great Flemish artist, Peter Paul Rubens, to create a series of paintings to grace the ceiling. The panels were completed in Ruben's workshop before being shipped to England for installation.

The paintings were a delight of classical gods and motifs, the most noteworthy being the centre panel titled The Apotheosis of James I. The scene glorifies his late father, James I as though he were being crowned by the heavens. It is meant to reinforce the concept of the king being God's representative on earth and his divine right to rule.

Detail of ceiling:Wikimedia Commons

These paintings remain the only work of Rubens on display outside of a museum. Fortunately for the preservation of the paintings, masques ceased to be performed following their installation. The smoke from the candles would have damaged them over time.

Below the Banqueting Hall is an area known as the Undercroft. During King James's time, it was used as the royal party den, but in later years, they held other amusements such as lotteries. It's curved ceilings gives the impression of a cosy cave. One can imagine how it once looked, crowded with men drinking and gambling while lit with golden torchlight.

The Undercroft: Photo by C. Bazos

Ironically, the Banqueting House, which evolved as a testament to the divinity of kings, would stand as a confirmation of their mortality.

On a cold winter day, on 30 January, 1649, a scaffold was erected outside the Banqueting House, accessed from a second story landing. King Charles I stepped out on the scaffold, clad only in two shirts and a cap. Facing his subjects, he left them with his famous parting words, "I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown." Here ended his reign.

There is so much art and history wrapped up in the Banqueting House. The next time you are visiting London, I encourage you to visit this marvellous building. You may even be greeted by a Parliamentary soldier.

Parliamentary guard: Photo by C. Bazos

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Wikimedia Commons attribution:
The Banqueting House: "Banqueting House London" by en:User:ChrisO - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Banqueting_House_London.jpg#/media/File:Banqueting_House_London.jpg

Apotheosis of James I: "Banqueting House 03" by The wub - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Banqueting_House_03.jpg#/media/File:Banqueting_House_03.jpg

This post is an Editor's Choice from the #EHFA archives, originally published February 2, 2016.
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Cryssa Bazos is an award-winning historical fiction author and 17th-century enthusiast with a particular interest in the English Civil War. Her debut novel, Traitor's Knot is the Medalist winner of the 2017 New Apple Award (historical fiction), a finalist for the 2018 EPIC eBook Awards (historical romance) and a finalist for RNA Joan Hessayon Award. Her second novel, Severed Knot, is a B.R.A.G Medallion Honoree and has been shortlisted for the 2019 Chaucer Award. For more information, visit her website www.cryssabazos.com

Severed Knot is available through all online retailers: https://books2read.com/SeveredKnot

Sunday, July 26, 2015

A Singular Pattern of Steady Loyalty

by M J Logue

On 27th July 1646, Wallingford Castle in Oxfordshire became the last major English stronghold held by King Charles I to surrender to the Army of Parliament following a twelve-week siege by Sir Thomas Fairfax. To protect the town, part of the stone bridge across the Thames was replaced with a wooden drawbridge. St Leonard’s church, used as a troop garrison, was badly damaged during the war, and two other churches, All Hallows and St Peter’s, were destroyed.

Wallingford Castle was held by Colonel Thomas Blagge, who was appointed Governor of the castle in 1642 and who commanded a foot regiment of a thousand men, to prevent an advance on Oxford to the north-west. In 1643 the king instructed him to refortify the castle, inspecting the results later that year. By 1644, the surrounding Thames towns of Abingdon and Reading had fallen and Parliamentary forces unsuccessfully attacked the town and castle of Wallingford in 1645. Colonel Blagge’s foot regiment and Lord Digby’s horse regiment were stationed there, and the Wallingford troops were involved in many local skirmishes. Later, Parliamentarians came to Wallingford believing the king to be there and were received somewhat brusquely by Blagge, who told them he’d left for Oxford.

Blagge was originally a Suffolk man, born at Horningsheath, and was baptised in 1613, marrying Mary North of Mildenhall, daughter of Sir Roger North. He was - and remained until his death in 1660 - a staunch King's man; he had been one of Charles' Grooms to the Bedchamber. In fact, Charles visited Wallingford several times during the war and once struck Blagge about the head for not providing enough soldiers, and on another occasion the Queen and Prince Rupert were godparents at the christening of one of Blagge’s children. His wife survived him by a further ten years, and he left four young daughters - Henrietta Maria, Dorothy, Mary and Margaret. Henrietta Maria married Sir Thomas Yarborough of Snaith in the County of York, and Mary became the wife of Coldough. Margaret married the Earl of Godolphin, who became Lord High Treasurer of England. She died a few days after the birth of Francis, her only son.

Both Margaret and Henrietta Maria were Maids of Honour to the Duchess of York and, after the Duchess's death in 1671, Margaret became Maid of Honour to Queen Catherine.

As the Parliamentarian forces approached the King's headquarters at Oxford in the summer of 1646, Charles escaped, disguised as a footman. The city was surrounded and eventually surrendered: only Raglan and Pendennis were still held by the King. Charles fled northwards to Newark to join the Scots. And yet, Blagge, alone and surrounded at Wallingford, hung on.

There was much damage in the town, mostly from fires. Though there was no hope of relief, Blagge kept possession of the fortress, even though it was surrounded on all sides and there were daily assaults on the lines. Such was the resolution with which Blagge defended the position that Fairfax sought the aid of Cromwell and others. He had reported his progress from time to time to the Commons and discussed with them the terms for surrender. With their approval, a list of terms was drawn up and presented to Blagge, who refused to accept them until the King gave permission. Fairfax immediately ordered two more brigades to surround the town.

On 17 July, Fairfax reported that all terms were agreed except that Col. Blagge demanded that himself and the garrison “not to be questioned for anything done as soldiers during the war”. The Commons objected to this and other demands and ordered the siege to continue. After holding out for 16 weeks in total, with an all out siege of 65 days, in which only five men were lost, the town yielded on the 27th July 1646 with an honourable surrender. The terms of the surrender were little modified from those demanded by Colonel Blagge, and allowed the defenders to march out with flying colours, in all honour. (The full terms of the surrender can be found here.)

The risk of civil conflict continued, however, and Parliament decided that it was necessary to slight the castle in 1652 as it remained a surprisingly powerful fortress and a continuing threat should any fresh uprising occur. The castle was virtually razed to the ground in the operation, although a brick building continued to be used as a prison into the 18th century. A large house was built in the bailey in 1700, followed by a mansion on the same site in 1837.

It's a quiet, beautiful, green walled garden these days, and the only time the peaceful Oxfordshire countryside echoes to the sound of artillery fire is during the re-enactment that commemorates the siege. But you have to admire Thomas Blagge. Beleaguered, surrounded, his faith in his King never faltered, even through eleven long years of the Commonwealth. He died six months after the Restoration and was buried in the North Cross of Westminster Abbey. His epitaph reads:

...a gentleman, who, to the rarest accomplishments of mind and body, added to the sciences, and every civil and military virtue. As he was beloved by Charles I and II, of whose bedchamber he was, he preserved an unshaken fidelity to them, and performed many important services; especially when Governor of Wallingford Castle, which, after almost all of the rest had submitted, he defended so valiantly, that, when he marched out of it, it was by his Majesty’s own command giving also afterwards a singular pattern of steady loyalty, in his sufferings for the royal cause, by exile abroad and frequent imprisonment at home. For these deserts, he was, at the king’s restoration, made a colonel in the guards, and Governor of Yarmouth and Landguard Fort. Further preferments were designed for him, of which death deprived him; with the generous satisfaction, however, of having in prosperity that master to whom he had so faithfully adhered to in adversity.

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M J Logue has been passionate about the English Civil War since writing her first novel over 20 years ago. After a brief flirtation with horror and dark fantasy, she returned to her first love, historical fiction, and now combines the two. She has a degree in English literature, trained as an archivist, and likes Jacobean theatre, loud music, and cheese.

When not attempting to redeem the reputation of the Army of Parliament, she lives in Cornwall with her husband and son, three cats, and a toad under the back doorstep.

There is little more to divulge, other than - "I had rather have a plain, russet-coated Captain, that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows, than that which you call a Gentle-man and is nothing else."

Thank you, Oliver Cromwell!

She can be found lurking at uncivilwars.blogspot.co.uk, and the first three books in her bestselling series featuring the (mis)adventures of sweary Parliamentarian cavalry officer Hollie Babbitt and his rebel rabble are available here.
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Wednesday, February 4, 2015

The Aristocracy in England

by Evelyn Tidman

While researching my new seventeenth century novel (as yet unnamed) which is a sequel to For The King, I was surprised to discover that events were governed largely by the aristocracy and ‘gentry’ as Roger L’Estrange refers to them, he being a member of that class himself. He uses phrases such as ". . . Rochester, more particularly prepared, by the prudence and example of the gentry there engaged . . ." and " . . . your soldiery was so zealous and your gentry so cautious . . ."

So what, exactly was the role of aristocrats in England during the seventeenth century?

Today, in a largely ‘classless’ society, the term ‘aristocracy’ or ‘nobility’ has little meaning. Dukes, lords and knights have little to do with the lives of ordinary people. Indeed, many view the aristocracy as a privileged class who have inherited wealth, land and titles without working for it. Many see it as an unfair system, dating back to the mists of history. However, during the first world war, and also to some extent in the second, many of the officers in the armed forces were from the nobility.

To us it may seem archaic. Why should someone born to privilege be considered capable of commanding a battalion when a member of the lower orders were not? Are they more knowledgeable than the rest of us mere mortals? More intelligent? Today, education has become the great leveller, putting university education within the theoretical reach of all, but it was not always the case.

The word ‘aristocracy’ comes from the Greek, the product of the thinking of philosophers Plato and Aristotle. It literally means ‘rule of the few best’ that is, the morally and intellectually superior governing the interests of the entire population.

Gainsborough Old Hall, medieval manor house,
built by Sir Thomas Burgh 1460-1480

In England during the Middle Ages, the king owned the whole country. However, as one man, he could not govern the whole lot on his own. So he conferred land, or ‘manors’ on certain ones known as ‘barons’ or lords. Hence the term ‘lord of the manor’. Each baron had to swear allegiance to the king, to fight for him, raise an army for him, and also pay him rent for his manor. He also gave the king advice, thus helping him to govern.

In their turn, the barons had knights and fiefs and gave them manors. The knights supported and served the lords and fought for them for between forty and sixty days a year. Beneath the knights were the serfs or villeins, the ordinary people, who served the knights, worked the land, paid rent in money and kind to the knights, and the men of which served as soldiers when required. In turn the peasants were allowed land to live on and work and were given firewood and grazing rights on the common.

The landowner was responsible for his people, particularly for law and order and the dispensing of justice. In times of famine, the landowner should see that his people survived. He was also the justice of the peace. It was a practical system which seemed to work when the lord was a fair and just man. If he were not, then, of course, it was open to abuse.

This system of government continued throughout the centuries, and the king continued to grant lands and new titles to men who had assisted him. By the time of the seventeenth century, the system had evolved into the government of Britain, the aristocracy having the right to sit in the House of Lords in Parliament. The gentry, often descended from younger sons of the aristocracy, could sit in the House of Commons. However, just as formerly, each lord was responsible for his people.

In my English Civil War novel For The King, when Sir Hamon L’Estrange was arrested on the count of treason and paraded before the people of King’s Lynn for them to choose whether to send him to stand trial, they said: "What be you thinking, Tom Gurlin? Send Sir ’Ammon to Wisbech? Sir ’Ammon who succoured us in distress, fed our children when we lacked bread? We hin’t that lacking in gratitude. Our little’uns hin’t going to blush with shame in remembrance of this day!" Whilst the speech (Norfolk dialect) is fictional, the sentiments are recorded history. It shows how ordinary people viewed their lords and the responsibilities of those lords.

Hunstanton Hall, home of Sir Hamon L’Estrange.
The original medieval hall burnt down in 1850.
The gate house is 15th century, and the wings are 1623.

In times of war, the common people looked to their lords for direction and protection. During the English Civil War, when the New Model Army under Cromwell used violence to keep people in order, the people looked to their lords to solve the problem. They trusted them to lead them into battle and viewed them as men educated for that very task. In turn their lord directed them, called on them to fight with him, but also fed, armed and clothed them and paid them wages out of their own pockets for the duration of their military service, compensating them for their loss of earnings while on the campaign.

Where the common people did not have the contacts nor the understanding of the political goings on at the top, the aristocracy did. They were at the forefront of policies and law-making. Importantly, they knew each other. A network of the nobility stretched across the land strengthened by marriage ties. Common people accepted that they did not have the education, nor the contacts, to understand politics or laws. They left that to the nobility. That was their job, and they were educated accordingly. It is why schools like Eton and Harrow came into existence and why only the sons of the aristocracy could get into university. One of the favoured subjects of education was Law. The aristocracy knew how the system worked.

Of course, no society is perfect, and the nobility under the feudal system were far from perfect. But when decent men acted honourably towards their people, the system worked.

However, the English Civil War challenged the old order. With the murder of King Charles I, England changed forever and began the march to the political system in existence today. When a jumped-up commoner called Oliver Cromwell became Lord Protector and ruled the country instead of the King, it changed the role of the monarchy and therefore the aristocracy. Today, the lord of the manor no longer has any control over the common people unless they be in his direct employment.

Unless, of course, he happens to be a member of the government.

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Evelyn Tidman is the author of For the King: Roger L’Estrange and the Siege of King’s Lynn, One Small Candle: The Story of William Bradford and the Pilgrim Fathers, and Gentleman of Fortune: The Adventures of Bartholomew Roberts, Pirate, available on Amazon.

www.evelyntidmanauthor.com



Saturday, January 5, 2013

Royalist Rebel, the story of Elizabeth Murray

by Anita Seymour


Whilst searching for a strong female protagonist from the 17th Century on whom to base my latest novel, I discovered one practically on my own doorstep. At the time I lived around the corner to Ham House, a stunning red brick Jacobean mansion on the River Thames, the home of Elizabeth Murray, Lady Dysart and Duchess of Lauderdale. Her second husband, John Maitland, Duke of Lauderdale, was one of Charles II’s Cabal ministry and between he and Elizabeth, turned Ham into a palace fit for their king.

Bishop Burnet, described by Elizabeth’s biographer, Doreen Cripps as ‘that spiteful old busybody’, left a sketch of her character coloured with his prejudice and personal malice.

She was a woman of great beauty, but of far greater parts. She had a wonderful quickness of apprehension, and an amazing vivacity in conversation. She had studied not only divinity and history, but mathematics and philosophy. She was violent in every thing she set about, a violent friend, but a much more violent enemy. She had a restless ambition, lived at a vast expense, and was ravenously covetous; and would have stuck at nothing by which she might compass her ends. She had blemishes of another kind, which she seemed to despise, and to take little care of the decencies of her sex.

Elizabeth's mother, Catherine Bruce Murray, took seventeen-year-old Elizabeth and her three younger sisters to the exiled Court at Oxford during the winter of 1643/1644, where Charles I had fled after the Battle of Edgehill, where they most likely saw first hand how difficult life had become for many followers of the king.

Catherine Bruce Murray

Elizabeth’s father, William Murray, Earl Dysart, a Gentleman of the Bedchamber to King Charles I and one of his closest friends, was once his ‘whipping boy’, and received chastisement for the young royal. Murray was Charles I’s envoy and made many dangerous trips across country and the continent for his master.

On his return to England in February 1646 he was seized as a spy in Canterbury and sent to the Tower of London, where he remained through the summer. With the help of the Scottish Lords, amongst them Earl Lauderdale, he was released on condition he did all in his power to induce his master to yield to the conditions of the Parliament. [And we all know well how that turned out!]

Parliament decided Murray, who had Scots Covenanter relatives, was a bad influence on the king and banished him to Queen Henrietta Maria’s court outside Paris. Despite this dangerous disgrace, Elizabeth’s formidable mother, Catherine Bruce Murray, allegedly invited Cromwell to dine at Ham House when King Charles I was under house arrest at Hampton Court, five miles downriver.

The young Elizabeth charmed Oliver Cromwell with her wit and intelligence, and they remained in contact, even through King Charles II’s exile in the 1650’s, when Elizabeth was reputedly a member of The Sealed Knot carrying money and information to the exiled king.

That meeting between the Royalist girl and the Lord General of the Roundhead army must have been a difficult one, for several attempts had been made by the Surrey Sequestration Committee to seize Ham House and the family's estate, threatening to leave them all homeless.

Cromwell was well known to despise Earl Lauderdale, and when he was captured after the Battle of Worcester in 1651, it was a tribute to Elizabeth's diplomacy, that when she pleaded for mercy for Lauderdale, Cromwell commuted his sentence to imprisonment.

Elizabeth married Sir Lionel Tollemache 2nd Bart when she was twenty-one, a non political Suffolk landowner who attracted neither Royalist or Parliamentary attention. The marriage was a successful one, and secured Ham House for Elizabeth and her three sisters, and she bore him eleven children in twenty-two years, five of whom lived to adulthood. Elizabeth maintained contact with Earl Lauderdale, who spent seven years in prison, and when Lionel died in 1669, Lady Mary Lauderdale went to Paris, apparently to distance herself from the burgeoning friendship between her husband and Elizabeth.

Mary died in 1672 and six weeks later, to the outrage of London society, John Maitland, Earl of Lauderdale and Lady Elizabeth Tollemache were married.

Sir Lionel and Earl Lauderdale were both early Freemasons and Ham House was the scene of many lodge meetings. It wasn’t until her forties, when Elizabeth’s political manoeuvrings as Duchess Lauderdale were frowned upon, that she was rumoured to have been not only Earl Lauderdale's mistress when they were both married to other people, but also Cromwell's mistress, suspected of spying for both sides during the Interregnum:

She is Besse of my heart, she was Besse of old Noll;
She was once Fleetwood’s Besse, now she’s Bess of Atholle;
She’s Besse of the Church, and Besse of the State,
She plots with her tail, and her lord with his pate.
With a head on one side, and a hand lifted hie,
She kills us with frowning and makes us to die.

Ham House North Front

Elizabeth died at Ham in 1698, aged seventy two, having outlived her sisters and two of her adult children.

‘Royalist Rebel’, The biographical novel of Elizabeth’s youth will be released in paperback by Claymore Books, an imprint of Pen and Sword Publishing January 17th 2013.