A Thought for Edward VI on a Difficult Day for Him

by Janet Wertman

Despite his enormous promise, Edward VI was a tragic figure, on so many levels.

The first level involves the wrongs his father did to get him. Henry VIII firmly believed he needed a male heir. When his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, proved unable to fulfill this obligation after twenty years of marriage, Henry abandoned her. That the Pope disagreed didn’t matter – Henry abandoned the Catholic Church as well, founding the Church of England to seal his right to remarry. Then when Henry’s second wife, Anne Boleyn, birthed only a daughter and experienced several miscarriages, Henry had her executed on trumped up charges to pave the way for the third wife who would finally give him the son he craved. Jane Seymour, Edward’s mother, is often said to have “walked through Anne’s blood” for her title. In Jane’s defense, we must remember that she paid for the privilege with her life.

The second level involves the circumstances of Edward’s youth. His mother died in childbirth, and his first two stepmothers were little involved in his life. Edward got lucky with his third stepmother, Katherine Parr, who finally gave the five-year old prince a real experience of family life. Life further opened up to him as other children were brought into his household to share his life and his education.

Barnaby Fitzpatrick, the son of an Irish peer, became his whipping boy (since Edward’s teachers could not in good conscience administer corrective beatings to “this whole realm’s most precious jewel”). Still, the fear that surrounded the young prince must have been oppressive: Henry was terrified that something would happen to his only son. Very few people were allowed to visit Edward’s household out of fear of the plague. All of his food was tasted. Every servant was schooled in the rigorous standards of security and cleanliness that Henry imposed. Such constant caution would inevitably be deeply internalized.

Even when Edward acceded to the throne, things did not improve by much. He was so young, only nine years old. This is wonderfully captured in many of the unintentionally poignant entries in his Chronicle (which was, in the words of Wilbur Kitchener Jordan, “in part private diary, in part an educational exercise, and in part considered notes on policy and administration”), like the one he wrote about his coronation, in which he proudly described how he had dined with his crown on his head. Yet the real power belonged to his uncle, Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset, who was named Lord Protector to rule while Edward was still a minor. Importantly, this went against Henry VIII’s wishes – Henry hadn’t wanted anyone to be in a position to divert power from his son: he had envisioned a “Regency Council” that would rule collectively. Nevertheless, Somerset was able to quickly seize control thanks in large part to a last-minute “unfulfilled gifts clause” added to Henry’s will under the dry seal that allowed the executors to distribute lavish gifts to their friends.

Unfortunately, Somerset was not as respectful of his young nephew as he should have been. Somerset was proud and self-interested and kept the young King dependent on him for as much as he could. This encouraged Somerset’s younger brother, Thomas Seymour, to hatch a scheme to replace Somerset as proxy ruler. In the middle of the night on December 16, 1549, Seymour tried to break into the sleeping King’s apartments at Hampton Court Palace. He made it into the privy garden (he had keys), but one of the King’s pet spaniels started barking. Seymour shot and killed it, which brought guards running. There was no defense for being outside the King’s bedroom in the middle of the night with keys and arms – and using them both. It was alleged that Seymour’s plan was to kidnap the King, perhaps force him to marry Lady Jane Grey (Seymour’s ward); this was treason enough. It was suspected that he might himself marry the King’s sister Elizabeth then kill the King and seize the throne. There could be no mercy. Thomas Seymour’s was the first death warrant that Edward VI had to sign, and today is the anniversary of Seymour’s execution (a topic I have covered in a companion post on my own blog, I hope you’ll visit!).

And as if sentencing one uncle to death wasn’t bad enough, less than two years later the not-even-fifteen-year-old King had to do it again. John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, engineered a coup d’etat against Somerset. The charges were less clear than the ones against Thomas Seymour, but no less deadly. Edward himself summarized them in his Chronicle as "ambition, vainglory, entering into rash wars in mine youth, negligent looking on Newhaven, enriching himself of my treasure, following his own opinion, and doing all by his own authority, etc." Although Somerset survived this plot, he tried to fight back against Warwick (who had by then become the Duke of Northumberland) – and lost. That was fatal. To use Edward VI’s own words again, on January 22, 1552 "the duke of Somerset had his head cut off upon Tower Hill between eight and nine o'clock in the morning".

The next year was a good one for Edward VI – Northumberland made every effort to incorporate him into the running of the government. But then the young King fell ill from what is now believed to have been tuberculosis. As death approached, the fervent Protestant grew terrified at the idea that his staunchly Catholic sister Mary would inherit his throne. He created his own Devise for the Succession which bypassed both his sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, and settled the crown on his cousin, Lady Jane Grey. It is not clear whose idea this was, but we do know that Northumberland stood to benefit greatly from this arrangement: Lady Jane Grey was married to his son. Regardless, the Devise failed when England rallied behind Mary as the next rightful heir (in case you were wondering, Northumberland was the first person executed during Mary’s reign).

Tragic all around.

***

SOURCES:

The Chronicle of Edward VI

Wilbur Kitchener Jordan, England’s Boy King: The Diary of Edward VI (1966)

Wikipedia, Luminarium

This Editor's Choice was originally published on March 19, 2015.
~~~~~~~~

Janet Wertman is a freelance grant writer by day and a writer of historical fiction by night. Books 1 & 2 of the Seymour Saga will be joined in 2020 by The Boy King, which will cover the reign of Jane’s son, Edward VI.

Janet regularly blogs about the Tudors and what it’s like to write about them. Connect with Janet:  Website: https://www.janetwertman.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/janetwertmanauthor/

The Mystery of The Queen’s Pearl

by Judith Arnopp

Since my youth I have been awed by the story of La Peregrina, the ‘royal’ pearl that had passed from queen to queen until it was given as a Valentine present to Elizabeth Taylor by Richard Burton. As a girl I quite envied Elizabeth Taylor‘s ownership of such a historic piece of jewellery. It was good to see a perfect specimen that had once graced the bosom of a Tudor queen dangling in the cleavage of a twentieth century heroine. I was disappointed to learn a few years ago that it was indeed a different, if very similar, pearl. Unsure if it was true or just more fake news, I scanned the internet for information but the articles I found just increased my confusion.

Mary Tudor by Master John 

There is a lot of misinformation out there. I even found one article stating that:

‘The Spanish master, Diego Velazquez, in the mid 1600s painted Queen Isabel wearing the pearl, and he also painted young sweet Mary, Queen of England wearing the pearl before she became Bloody Mary and had her namesake niece, Mary Queen of Scots, beheaded.’

Oops, big boo boo! I didn’t read this unreliable article any further but I did find some offering useful information.

Elizabeth’s Taylors jewel is smaller than the one that Mary wore and it seems that the one of Tudor fame has been mislaid. The mystery becomes more complex when you discover there is another similar pearl with the almost identical name of La Pelegrina. Wikipedia explains it thus:

"La Pelegrina" is a Spanish word. Some gem historians translated it as "the Incomparable", but actually "La Pelegrina" has no such meaning in Spanish. Other gem historians believe that the name "La Pelegrina" was made to show a connection between "La Pelegrina" and another famous pearl “La peregrine”. "La Peregrina" means ‘The Pilgrim" or "the Wanderer", and rhyming the names "La Pelegrina" and "La Peregrina" could mean that the name "La Pelegrina" was meant to be also "the pilgrim" or "the Wanderer", and a single letter was changed to distinguish between the two different pearls.”

Confused? I am.

But undaunted, I set out to see if I could trace the path of two gems, almost identical in appearance, with almost identical names.

La Pelegrina was discovered on the coast of Santa Margarita in the Gulf of Panama in the 16th century. The man who found it was a slave who was rewarded for his discovery with his freedom. Inca Garcilaso de la Vega wrote about this in his Royal Commentaries of Peru.

‘This pearl, by nature pear-shaped, had a long neck and was moreover as large as the largest pigeon’s egg. It was valued at fourteen thousand four hundred ducats but Jacoba de Trezzo, a native of Milan, and a most excellent workman and jeweller to his Catholic Majesty, being present when thus it was valued said aloud that it was thirty – fifty – a hundred thousand ducats in order to show thereby that it was without parallel in the world.’ (La Pelegrina pearl. (2019, August 31). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Pelegrina_pearl)

In 1660 Philip IV of Spain gave the pearl to his daughter, Maria Theresa, on her marriage to Louis XIV of France. The pearl travelled with her to France and disappeared after Maria Theresa’s death in 1683. It did not reappear until 1826 when it showed up in St. Petersburg. It is believed that it then entered the French crown jewel collection but was stolen during the revolution along with the rest of the crown jewels. Sometime after that it travelled to Russia where Zinaida Yusupova was painted wearing it. The pearl then passed to her son, Felix Yusupov, (who interestingly, was involved with the murder of Rasputin.)

In 1917 during the October Revolution Felix smuggled the pearl, together with other royal jewels out of Russia. He later sold many of his treasures but hung on to La Pelegrina until 1953 when he sold it to a jeweller in Geneva.

Portrait of Zinaida Yusupova (1861-1939)
by François Flameng

La Peregrina
The first mention of this pearl is in Commentarios Reales de Los Incas by Garcilaso de la Vega (1539-1616). He describes a pear-shaped pearl arriving in Spain from Venezuela (although according to Wiki other sources mention Panama) in 1579. It was sold to King Phillip II of Spain who later married Mary I of England. (This made my ears prick, perhaps he did give it to her after all). He intended it as a gift for his daughter but instead added to the crown jewels where it is recorded as being for two hundred years.

Juan Pantoja de la Cruz, Margaret of Austria, 
Queen of Spain wearing the pearl (c. 1606) 

It seems to me that Philip may very well have given it as a marriage gift to Mary but there is no record of that ever having taken place. There are portraits of Mary sporting a very similar one. It would be lovely to think this was THE pearl but it is not recorded and neither is it listed with the jewels he did give her that were later returned to Spain after her death.

La Peregrina was worn by many Spanish queens. Margaret of Austria wore it while married to Philip III and it appears in portraits of Elizabeth of France and Mariana of Austria who were wives of Philip IV.

Peter Paul Rubens, Elisabeth of France, 
Queen of Spain wearing the pearl (c. 1625) 

When the elder brother of Napoleon Bonaparte ruled Spain in the 1800s it came into his possession but he left the kingdom after the French lost the Battle of Vitoria. At this time he made off with several of the crown jewels and it is believed La Pelegrina was among them. He bequeathed the pearl to his nephew who would become Napoleon III of France. It was Napoleon III who sold the pearl while in exile in England to James Hamilton, Later Duke of Abercon, who purchased it as a gift for his wife, Louisa. It remained in the Hamilton family until they sold it at Sothebys in 1969.

During the course of its history the pearl came close to catastrophe on several occasions. Once it was lost down the back of a sofa at a party at Windsor Castle, the second time during a ball at Buckingham Palace.

It was bought in 1969 by Richard Burton for $37,000 as a Valentine’s gift (hint-hint husband) for his wife Elizabeth. In her book My Love Affair with Jewellery she relates a story of it almost being swallowed by one of their dogs.

‘At one point I reached down to touch La Peregrina and it wasn't there! I glanced over at Richard and thank God he wasn't looking at me, and I went into the bedroom and threw myself on the bed, buried my head into the pillow and screamed. Very slowly and very carefully, I retraced all my steps in the bedroom. I took my slippers off, took my socks off, and got down on my hands and knees, looking everywhere for the pearl. Nothing.‘

Then on seeing one of the puppies chewing something …

‘I just casually opened the puppy's mouth and inside his mouth was the most perfect pearl in the world. It was—thank God—not scratched.’ (Elizabeth Taylor: my love affair with Jewelry - Simon & Schuster; 1 Oct. 2002) N.B: Ms Taylor seems to have recounted this tale several times, each one slightly different.’

Mary Tudor by Hans Eworth 1554, NPG 4861
© National Portrait Gallery, London 

The Burtons, at the time believing the pearl to have belonged to Mary Tudor purchased a portrait of Mary wearing the pearl and when it was discovered the connection was likely to be false, they donated the painting to the National Portrait Gallery.

La Peregina was sold after Elizabeth Taylor’s death fetching more than eleven million dollars.

“La Peregrina.” La Peregrina - Smithsonian Institution,
Photo by NMNH Photo Services.

So, curiouser and curiouser. We now have two different pearls, neither of which seems to be have been worn by Mary although she is clearly wearing a very similar one is several portraits.

I found an article from a few years ago by jewellery exhibitor Symbolic & Chase who showcased a jewel which they called ‘The Mary Tudor Pearl.’ According to their description the Renaissance pearl surfaced in 2004, having been lost since the late 16th century, and can be dated back to 1526. It measures 258.12 grains (64.5 carats, 69.8 carats with its diamond cap) making it the third largest well-formed natural pearl documented to date.

The provenance leads at last to Mary.

‘Between 1526 and 1539 the pearl entered into the outstanding jewellery collection of the Empress Isabella of Portugal (1503-1539), either as a diplomatic gift or by the Empress purchasing it. When the Empress died in 1539 the pearl was inherited by her daughter, Juana of Austria (1535-1573). Following a short marriage to Prince John of Portugal (1537 – 1554), Juana returned to Spain to assume regency for her brother, Philip II. The pearl became part of Philip’s dowry for his new bride, Mary Tudor (1516-1558), after whom the pearl has been christened.'

Mary Tudor, Queen of England, 
second wife of Felipe II’ by Anthonis Mor 

‘It is an outstanding asymmetrical drop-shaped pearl that was much admired by the Tudor courts and is featured in Royal portraiture of Mary Tudor, namely ‘Mary Tudor, Queen of England, second wife of Felipe II’ by Anthonis Mor at the Museo del Prado and ‘Queen Mary I’ by Hans Eworth, which has been included below courtesy of The Bridgeman Art Library. A similar painting by Hans Eworth of Queen Mary I also hangs at the National Portrait Gallery.' ("The Mary Tudor Pearl Unveiled", Kari Pearls: Natural Pearls - A Trusted Resource.)

But is this and Mary’s pearl one and the same? The stories of all three jewels are so close, the provenances quite similar with it passing through the hands of so many European Royals, could their stories not just been horribly mixed up? Just as I was beginning to believe it was, I came across this website and discovered I wasn’t the only one in search of it. This website sums the whole thing up far more succinctly than I could ever do. He believes there is a third jewel, now known as Queen Mary’s Pearl and concludes that:

‘Mary Tudor never owned La Peregrina, though she did own a slightly larger pearl now known as the Mary Tudor Pearl.
Mary Tudor wore her pearl suspended from a golden brooch set with the Grande diamond that Philip II inherited from his mother, Isabel de Aviz.
Upon her death, Mary Tudor returned this brooch to her husband, who removed the pearl and gave it back to his sister Joanna.
Upon Joanna's death, the pearl was put up for auction.
The pearl failed to sell at the 1574 auction, but a man by the name of Diegor Ruiz purchased it in 1581 for 3,300 reales. After this, the pearl disappears from record.
In 2004, this pearl appears on the block at Christie's London, at which time it is purchased by Symbol & Chase of Bond Street.’ ©2006-2020 EraGem®

For more information, read this very fascinating blog post.

~~~~~~~~
Judith Arnopp is the author of twelve Historical Fiction novels and has contributed to several non-fiction anthologies. you can find more about Judith's work on her webpage: www.judithmarnopp.com or her Author Page: author.to/juditharnoppbooks

Judith's latest novel is The Heretic Wind: the life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England available on Kindle and Paperback. The audio version will be available later in 2020.

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.

~~~~~~~~~~

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.

Crests, Blood and Power – The Howards' Rise in Tudor Times

By Lizzy Drake

Photo 1: Framlingham Castle, the seat of the Dukes of Norfolk (Holly Stacey)

The Howard dynasty in Tudor times was a highly rich and powerful one, but there was a time when their precious heads were on the proverbial block before being given a chance to prove themselves loyal to the 'new' Tudor crown. Having been Yorkist and fought for Richard III where Henry Tudor took the crown at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485, the family was viewed with suspicion, not in part for the fact that they had a Plantagenet lineage and could, with the backing of loyal Howard and old Yorkist ties, easily have attempted to take the crown for themselves. Thomas Howard, 2nd Duke of Norfolk, was stripped of his title and lands and sent to the tower for three years. The former Duke was, however, clever enough to know how to show his loyalties had changed, for when an opportunity for escape from the tower came, he refused to take it. Who knew that his family would land so close to the king in the form of two queens. Or, perhaps, Thomas Howard had a keen sense of destiny, for the years to come allowed him to show both his guile and servitude in rising back to his position and beyond.

While Thomas Howard was in prison, his family and heirs were still expected to serve the crown and country, providing from their own pocket to help defend and serve it. The Howard male children were educated in court and also taught to train in combat for any upcoming threat. Thomas Howard II was also betrothed to the queen's sister, Anne but because the alliance was so threatening to the current monarchy, their vows were postponed until 1495, though it was the Queen who had to provide her sister and husband 20 shillings a week (Denny, p.21). In 1503, Margaret Tudor was escorted by the Howards to her groom, King James IV and then later, both Thomas Howards travelled on an embassy to Flanders, an obvious show of trust and by the time the crown passed to Henry VIII, the Howards had managed to become an invaluable asset.

It proved a good move for Henry VII not to have executed Thomas Howard, as he proved to be a superb ally both in court politics and, in particular, in the battlefield. It was at the Battle of Flodden (during Henry VIII's reign, and where the Scottish king lost his life) Howard truly proved his worth, fighting so valiantly, he earned back his family title of Duke of Norfolk, while his son, also a Thomas Howard, took the title Earl of Surrey (soon to be passed down to his own son, as Thomas Howard the elder was an aged 70 years by this point and soon to be laid to rest).

Photo 2: portrait of Thomas Howard 2nd Duke of Norfolk

In fact, things were going so well for the Howards by late 1513 that they had fortune enough to make many repairs on their family estate at Framlingham Castle, rebuilding the gatehouse and adding the coat of arms above it, putting up highly decorative Tudor chimneys and the chambers adjoining the gatehouse to accommodate the castle porter and staff. The coat of arms, still visible today as visitors enter the castle, is highly chipped, but a beautiful reminder of the seat of power the Howards held with the Tudors from this upward turning point.

Photo 3: The Howard coat of arms on the new gatehouse built in 1513 (Holly Stacey)

The Howards adopted the motto, Sola virtus invictia, 'Virtue alone invincible'. Their coat of arms was 'red with a silver stripe between six silver crosses', with the crest of a lion 'on a chapeau (Denny, p 20).” Though a contemporary drawing of the Howard coat of arms for Henry Howard, earl of Surrey (beautifully shown in the Framlingham Castle Guidebook), included the cross with the three-pointed label in his arms which was Edward the Confessor's emblem, in which claimed the royal ancestry. Evidently, claiming to be royal blood was too dangerous to broadcast, especially to a king who wanted to eliminate all potential rivals in an increasingly dangerous court, although at the time, there was a power struggle between the Seymours and the Howards. While the very ill King Henry VIII was waning, the Seymours were concerned that the Howards would make a bid for the throne by putting the rightful heir, Edward, aside, and ascending though their Plantagenet bloodline; something they were supposedly able to do should the king have no heir, or as Britannica.com puts it:

'Returning to England in 1546, he found the king dying and his old enemies the Seymours incensed by his interference in the projected alliance between his sister Mary and Sir Thomas Seymour, Jane’s brother; he made matters worse by his assertion that the Howards were the obvious regents for Prince Edward, Henry VIII’s son by Jane Seymour. The Seymours, alarmed, accused Surrey and his father of treason and called his sister, the Duchess of Richmond, to witness against him. She made the disastrous admission that he was still a close adherent to the Roman Catholic faith. Because Surrey’s father, the Duke of Norfolk, had been considered heir apparent if Henry VIII had had no issue, the Seymours urged that the Howards were planning to set Prince Edward aside and assume the throne. Surrey defended himself unavailingly and at the age of 30 was executed on Tower Hill. His father was saved only because the king died before he could be executed (britannica.com/biography/henry-howard-earl-of-surrey).'

Photo 4: Henry Howard (wiki photos)

The Howards created an amazing dynasty for themselves and it was clear that they took family honour to the absolute limit and coupled it with unparalleled ambition for power cutting just shy of actually seizing the throne, though it does seem evident that Henry Howard had this intent. Historians often dwell on the two women who, through the 2^nd Duke of Norfolk, found themselves as Henry VIII's queens, and the other, who produced some of his illegitimate children, but it may be said that without the cleverness, patience and political acumen of Thomas Howard the elder and the younger, neither would have worn their crown, nor indeed, would the family have risen from the ashes like a phoenix of lore.

References:

deLisle, Leanda; Tudor, The Family Story; Vintage Press, London 2014

Denny, Joanna; Katherine Howard, A Tudor Conspiracy; Piatkus, 2005

Doran, Susan; The Tudor Chronicles 1485-1603; Metro Books, New York

Elton, G.R.; England Under the Tudors; Routledge, 1991

English Heritage; Framlingham Castle

Online references:

http://www.theanneboleynfiles.com/anne-boleyns-family-part-two-howards/

http://www.britannica.com/biography/Henry-Howard-Earl-of-Surrey

_______________________________________________

Lizzy Drake has been studying Medieval and Tudor England for over 15 years and has an MA in Medieval Archaeology from the University of York, England. She has been writing for much longer but the Elspet Stafford Mysteries began her writing careen in the genre. The First Elspet Stafford book, A Corpse in Cipher - A Tudor Murder Mystery, is available now.

When not writing or researching, Lizzy can be found reading or gardening. She balances time between her two homes in Essex, UK and California.

You can follow her on Twitter (Lizzy Drake@wyvernwings)

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A Royal Affair: Henry VIII’s first ‘mistress’

By Lauren Johnson

Whether justly or not, when we think of Henry VIII we think of romantic intrigues. Even schoolchildren can recite the fates of his six wives: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived. Although Henry had the rather unusual habit of marrying his mistresses, there were other women in his life who have been forgotten. It is a little verbose to remember all of these romances: ‘divorced, affair, illegitimate child, possible illegitimate child, beheaded...’ doesn’t have such a ring to it. One of these forgotten women is Lady Anne Hastings - the young king’s first extramarital dalliance.

It was spring 1510. The eighteen year old Henry VIII had been a king and a husband for less than a year. His wife, Catherine of Aragon, was sequestered with her ladies for her first ‘confinement’ - the final stages of a pregnancy that was to prove false. As the weeks passed and still no child appeared, Henry grew restless. He began to seek female attention elsewhere. His eye fell on the darkly attractive Lady Hastings.

Anne, Lady Hastings (wikimedia commons)

She was born Anne Stafford, daughter of that infamous Duke of Buckingham who had supported the usurpation of Richard III and then raised a rebellion against him. By Henry VIII’s reign the Staffords were at the heart of court politics. Anne’s brother Edward now held the title of duke, making him the senior nobleman in the country. Their sister Elizabeth, Lady Fitzwalter, was one of Catherine’s senior ladies in waiting, her experience of pregnancy proving particularly useful as she kept her mistress company in the royal chambers. And Anne herself was recently married - for the second time - to another prominent courtier, Lord George Hastings. Henry had given her a wedding gift of a few shillings last December. It was not a mark of particular attention, but by May 1510 the Spanish ambassador, Luis Caroz, was reporting that the king had become very interested in Anne indeed. She was ‘much liked by the King,’ said Caroz, so he ‘went after her’.

Henry was aided in this endeavour by his childhood friend and now Groom of the Stool - the most trusted royal body servant - William Compton. Compton carried messages between the pair, even visiting Anne’s private chambers to do so. It was not long before rumours about the relationship started to seep out. So closely was Compton embroiled in the affair, in fact, that there was some confusion as to who exactly was wooing Anne.

‘Another version’ of the story, Caroz reported, ‘is that the love intrigues were not of the king, but of [Compton], his favourite.’ However, Caroz was unconvinced of this, thinking it more likely that Compton ‘carried on the love intrigue, as it is said, for the king... That is the more credible version.’

When Anne’s family learnt that their married sister was being courted by a king they immediately stepped in to end the affair. Curiously, Anne’s husband was not the first to react. Perhaps he hoped to gain something from this royal attention. Instead, the Staffords closed ranks. Whispers of the affair had reached as far as the Queen’s cloistered chambers, coming to the ear of Anne’s sister Lady Fitzwalter. Whether eager to protect her royal mistress or to preserve the family honour, Lady Fitzwalter leapt into action, organising an ‘intervention’. She made the mistake of inviting her brother.

Edward Stafford, duke of Buckingham (wikimedia commons)

The third Duke of Buckingham was an infamously proud and choleric man. When he learnt that his sister’s name was being associated not only with the king but with his servant, he was outraged. He stormed to Anne’s chambers. By spectacular ill fortune, his visit to his sister coincided with the arrival of William Compton. Buckingham ‘intercepted [Compton], quarrelled with him, and the end of it was that he was severely reproached in many and very hard words’.

Compton did not take this treatment lying down. He reported it immediately to the king who - rather confirming Caroz’s suspicion that Henry himself was the lady’s suitor - ‘was so offended at this that he reprimanded the duke angrily.’ Buckingham fled from the king’s presence in a fierce temper. Lord Hastings, perhaps inspired by the duke’s affirmative action, had Anne spirited away ‘and placed her in a convent sixty miles’ away.

Worse was to follow for the Staffords. When Henry discovered that the source of all this trouble was his queen’s servant Lady Fitzwalter he had her and her husband turned out of court. By now the whole situation was getting out of hand. In his frustration at the loss of Lady Hastings, Henry was threatening the jobs of half the royal servants.

‘Believing that there were other women in the employment… [sneaking] about the palace insidiously spying out every unwatched moment, in order to tell the queen [stories], the king would have liked to turn all of them out, only that it has appeared to him too great a scandal.’

Inevitably, the queen learnt of the dalliance. Recently emerged from her miserable lying in with no child to show for it, and still only months into her marriage, Queen Catherine did not take news of her husband’s infidelity well. ‘Almost all the court knew that the queen had been vexed with the king,’ reported Caroz, ‘and the king with her, and thus this storm went on between them.’

In the fullness of time Catherine forgave Henry and during her next confinement we do not hear of any further adulterous intrigues around the king. The Staffords returned to court. The ‘storm’ subsided.

As far as we know, the relationship between Henry and Anne never went beyond flirtation. Indeed, after 1510 we never hear of their names being associated again. Henry would go on to have other mistresses - Bessy Blount, Mary Boleyn, those infamous wives - but his feelings for Anne seem to have been cooled by the furore his attentions had caused.

The same is not true, however, of Anne and Compton. Despite both being married - apparently contentedly - the pair continued to enjoy a close relationship for years to come. So close, in fact, that in 1527 Compton was forced to swear on the sacrament that he had not committed adultery with her. Perhaps that was true. But the will he wrote in 1523 suggests that even if their relationship was not physical, it was certainly very affectionate. This will - written shortly before he went to war on the Scottish borders - asked that, in the event of his death, prayers be said for himself, his wife and Anne. It also gave Anne a life interest in some of his estates. Such generosity to a woman outside one’s kinship group was very unusual. It suggests that while the royal affair swiftly blew over, Anne’s relationship with Compton was deeper and more abiding. The king’s first ‘mistress’ was not an easy woman to forget.

Henry’s relationship with Lady Hastings features in Lauren’s new book, So Great a Prince: England and the Accession of Henry VIII (Head of Zeus). The book explores the year 1509 from the perspective of both king and country.

She is also the author of The Arrow of Sherwood (Pen & Sword Fiction) and wrote the play Lady Unknown.

She blogs at laurenjohnson1, tweets @History_lauren and facebooks at Lauren Johnson: Author & Historian. Her website is Lauren-Johnson.com.

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Uncovering the Death of Owen Tudor

by Tony Riches

In this post I’d like to focus on the legends surrounding Owen Tudor’s death. For once, we can pinpoint his location at a specific date and time, as his defeat by the forces of Edward IV at the Battle of Mortimer’s cross is well documented. While his son Jasper Tudor managed to escape, Owen was taken prisoner and marched to the nearby market town of Hereford. Probably the most reliable account is in The Chronicle of William Gregory, written soon after the event:

Ande in that jornay was Owyn Tetyr i-take and brought unto Herforde este, an he was be heddyde at the market place, and hys hedde sette a-pone the hygheyste gryce of the market crosse, and a madde woman kembyd hys here and wysche a way the blode of hys face, and she gate candellys and sette a-boute hym brennynge, moo then a C. Thys Owyne Tytyr was fadyr unto the Erle of Penbroke, and hadde weddyd Quene Kateryn, Kyng Harry the VI. ys modyr, wenyng and trustyng all eway that he shulde not be hedyd tylle he sawe the axe and the blocke, and whenn that he was in hys dobelet he trustyd on pardon and grace tylle the coler of hys redde vellvet dobbelet was ryppyd of. Then he sayde, "That hede shalle ly on the stocke that was wonte to ly on Quene Kateryns lappe," and put hys herte and mynde holy unto God, and fulle mekely toke hys dethe.

(Source: British History Online)

There are some intriguing details here, notably the non-linear structure, which we can learn from as we try to envisage the scene. Gregory suggests that right until the end, Owen believed he would be spared. When the collar of his red velvet doublet was ripped off it seems he realised there would be no last minute pardon and submitted to the inevitable and ‘fully meekly took his death.’ The most memorable imagery is of the ‘mad woman’ who combed the hair of his severed head and washed the blood from his face before surrounding it with lit candles. It is not difficult to see her instead as a grieving lover, or at least someone who wished, for whatever reason, for Owen’s body to be shown some respect after his death, despite Edward’s order for his head to be put on public display.

Was the story embellished in the retelling? Gregory was not present, so would have had to rely on secondary sources, and for me, the detail of Owen’s last words seems fanciful. This short account does offer a glimpse into Owen’s character, however. It seems he places more trust in his captors than he should – perhaps because of his royal connections? Sadly he had underestimated the vengeful young Edward IV, whose own father had not been shown any mercy when captured two months before, his severed head displayed on a pike over the Micklegate Bar at York.

Owen was buried in the chapel of the Greyfriars Church in Hereford, later pulled down after the Dissolution of the Monasteries. A plaque marks the spot of his execution in Hereford High Street, his only memorial. I would like to remember Owen, not as a victim of the Wars of the Roses, but as an adventurer, a risk-taker, a man who lived his life to the full and made his mark on the world through his descendants.

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Tony Riches is a UK historical fiction author living in Pembrokeshire, Wales. You can find out more on Tony’s blog ‘The Writing Desk’ at www.tonyriches.co.uk and find him on Twitter @tonyriches.

Owen – Book One of the Tudor Trilogy is now available in eBook and paperback on Amazon and all formats on Smashwords.

The Taming of Katherine Parr

by Danielle Marchant

This month sees the release of Philippa Gregory’s latest historical novel The Taming of the Queen, which is about Henry VIII’s sixth wife, Katherine Parr. As with all historical novels and dramas, there’s always anticipation on how the character is going to be portrayed and how their story will be told. In some cases, the historical fiction version of the characters tends to be a lot more exciting and dangerous than the real life characters. The various portrayals of Anne Boleyn is a good example of this, where in fiction she is often portrayed as a home-wrecking, man-eating Sex Goddess with a sixth finger, whereas in reality it has been argued that she was probably far more sober and God- fearing. The fictional portrayals of Katherine Parr, however, tend to buck the trend.

Katherine, as the famous nursery rhyme told us, was the one that survived. She was the sober nursemaid, the much-needed mother figure for Edward, Elizabeth and Mary who liked nothing more than to change Henry’s bandages for his putrid leg wound. However, in an interesting reversal – and of course, with the exception of the “The Tudors” TV drama series - it was actually the real Katherine that lived a far more interesting, exciting and even dangerous life compared to her fictional portrayals. It’s almost like the image of the real Katherine has been straitened to nothing more than a boring nursemaid, skulking in the shadows of the far more famous of Henry VIII’s wives. The real Katherine has been tamed. However, the real Katherine, who is possibly the least famous of all of Henry VIII’s wives, not only narrowly escaped facing the same tragic fate as that of two of Henry’s other wives, but she also was a major influence on the future Queen Elizabeth I.

In March 1543, thirty-year-old Katherine was widowed for the second time after the death of her husband Lord Latimer, but financially she was comfortable. She found herself in a position of freedom and was able to think about what she wanted to do with her life. There were two things that were certain for Katherine. She knew that she definitely wanted to stay at court, and she wanted to remarry. She had also fallen in love. The man that had stolen her heart was Thomas Seymour, the King’s brother-in-law. Four years later, she had told Seymour: “As truly as God is God, my mind was fully bent the other time I was at liberty to marry you before any man I know.”

This is quite a passionate image of Katherine, an image we don’t often associate with the real Katherine. However, Katherine had to forget about Thomas. There was another man who wanted her hand in marriage – it was the King. Despite already going down the aisle five times before, it didn’t deter him from a sixth trip. This time he was looking for an attractive woman without a reputation (Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard would have come to mind on the latter point). Lady Latimer ticked these boxes, so the King popped the question and, forgetting all about Thomas Seymour, she wisely accepted. They were married on the 12th July at Hampton Court Palace in the Queen’s Closet. This does show another quality that isn’t emphasised that much when referring to Katherine – bravery. She was brave in the sense that she was about to marry a man who had executed two of his previous wives.

In addition, she showed bravery in her religious beliefs. She wasn’t afraid to talk about her beliefs later on in the marriage. This was incredibly risky because it later nearly led to her being put in the Tower. Henry caused some confusion with his religious beliefs. When Katherine first married the King, we don’t really know what Katherine’s religious beliefs were at the time. However, even though the King had embraced the Reformation and the break with Rome, on the other hand, he was not a Lutheran and still very much believed in the presence of the body and blood of Christ in the bread and wine at mass. Katherine, however, did seem to demonstrate reformist – even Calvinist – beliefs, which became more apparent as the years went by. Henry and Katherine would often have religious debates, but at this stage it didn’t cause any particular concern to Henry. She collected books such as a 1542 English translation of A Sermon of St Chrysostome by the Oxford Scholar John Lupset. Katherine also wrote books for her ladies and friends. They were books of prayers, beautifully bound in gilt and leather, sold at 16 shillings, or £250 a copy in today’s money. Katherine was particularly in awe of the Great Bible, printed in Paris, which then emerged in England in April 1540. The Great Bible showed the word of God in the English language – it spoke directly to the people, including Katherine, without any additional interpretations from Priests. This encouraged Katherine to become more involved in the great religious debates. Her enthusiasm reached a peak in 1545, when Katherine went on to write the “Lamentation of a Sinner”. Based on St. Paul’s teachings and the epistles, it was the first work of its kind written by a woman. So, not only was the real Katherine brave, passionate and religious, she was also creative. These are qualities that are not often associated with Katherine.

However, Katherine's involvement in religious discussions and the views she expressed in her writing began to cause suspicion to the King, and this provided ammunition to the conservative faction at court. Bishop Gardiner and his cronies looked at everything that could be used against her – the books she wrote, the books she read and even her ladies-in-waiting were held with suspicion. There were three ladies in particular that became a focus of this campaign – Lady Herbert (Katherine’s sister), Lady Lane (Katherine’s cousin) and Lady Tyrwhit. John Foxe recalled the events later in the Elizabethan period:

It was devised that these three should first of all have been accused and brought to answer to the six articles (the act passed in 1539) and upon their apprehension in court, their closets and coffers should have been searched, that somewhat might have been found by which the Queen might be charged; which being found, the Queen herself presently should have been taken, and likewise carried by night by barge to the Tower.

However, fate intervened. The King revealed to one of his physicians, Dr. Wendy, what he was going to do, but the bill of articles against Katherine, signed by the King himself, had been accidently dropped by an anonymous councillor. It was then found and brought to the Queen. As you could imagine, Katherine flew into panic mode – she “fell immediately into a great agony, bewailing and talking on in such sort”. Dr. Wendy was summoned to the Queen and advised her that she should “shew her humble submission to the King”.

Katherine took on board this advice, and one night she went to the King’s Bedchamber. The King decided to launch a debate on religion, a topic they were always guaranteed to have a debate on. However, instead of speaking her mind on religious matters, she instead said to him: “God has appointed such a natural difference between man and woman, and your majesty being so excellent in gifts and ornaments of wisdom, and I a silly poor woman, so much inferior in all aspects of nature to you”.

Katherine was now playing the part of a submissive wife. She said that she only debated with him on religion to distract him from the pain caused by his ill health. She said it was ridiculous, the thought of a woman trying to teach her husband. Both made peace with each other, and all was well. When Chancellor Thomas Wriothesely arrived with his armed guards of forty men to arrest the Queen, Henry sent him away, shouting “Knave, arrant knave, beast and fool”. Katherine had lived to see another day. This does show a very clever and witty side to Katherine as well – she certainly knew how to turn a negative situation into a positive one.

Wriothesely’s involvement is interesting as it refers to another unknown side to the real Katherine. Katherine was not one to give in to self-pity. Wriothesely’s wife, Jane, who was also Katherine’s lady-in-waiting, had lost her baby son. Katherine wrote a letter to her in March 1545, and even though this was written in an age when child mortality was common, its tone still seems very cold and harsh:

It have pleased God of late to disinherit your son of this world, of intent he should become partner and chosen heir of the everlasting inheritance, which calling and happy vocation ye may rejoice. If you lament your son’s death, you do him great wrong and show yourself to sorrow for the happiest thing there ever came to him.

Even though this was written in an age of religious fervour, Katherine’s tone in this letter still comes across as very cruel to a grieving mother who has just lost her child. With the exception of being a step-mother, Katherine at the time of writing this was not a mother herself, so would not have related to the pain that Jane was experiencing. Katherine, based on her own personal experiences, was a woman who kept a lid on her emotions and didn’t dwell on the past, and probably felt that in her own way, she was trying to help Jane. However, this would have provided little comfort to Jane and her husband. Their reaction to the letter is not known, however, it’s very possible that this may have caused so much upset that it fuelled Wriothesley’s anger towards Katherine later on.

As part of the campaign to put Katherine in the Tower, Wriothesley tried to link Katherine to Anne Askew, a heretic who became a martyr for her reformist beliefs and was burnt at the stake in July 1546. The torture Anne endured while being interrogated was particularly shocking as they resorted to putting her on the rack in a desperate attempt to get her to blurt out the names of members of Katherine’s privy chamber. Even Wriothesley himself turned the rack. Was this his revenge for the hurt Katherine had caused him and his wife before with her letter about their son? Anne Askew described her torture:

Then they put me on the rack, because I confessed no ladies or gentlewomen to be of my opinion; and there they kept me a long time, and because I lay still and did not cry, my lord chancellor and Master Rich took pains to rack me with their own hands till I was nigh dead.

The incident was also particularly shocking to her contemporaries as Anne was born into the gentry, and the gentry were never tortured. Even more disturbing, it is possible that the King himself gave them permission to torture her.

The fate of Anne, along with the attempt to put Katherine in the Tower, was evidence of a move against reformist belief in the last two years’ of the King’s reign. The campaign had begun in April 1546 – coincidently, soon after the conservative Bishop Gardiner’s return from Europe. In a sense, it was probably a blessing that Katherine did have this side to her where she could keep her emotions in check – it may have caused anger to the Wriothesleys, but at the same time, it ultimately helped her to face the King when she was interrogated herself over religion and come out of the situation calmly and unscathed.

Another fascinating but little-known fact about the real Katherine was how well she got on with her step-daughter, Mary Tudor. We’ve always been given the impression in fiction that the two simply did not get along due to their religious differences - Protestant Katherine vs Catholic Mary. This image, however, was created later on. We do know that when Mary became Queen, she did ban Katherine’s book The Lamentation of a Sinner. However, Mary did accept the changes her father had made, and the Mass was just as important to her as it was to her father and Katherine. Mary even helped Katherine to translate Erasmus’s Paraphrases of the New Testament, where she translated St. John’s Gospel. Due to illness, Mary was unable to finish her part of the project, but Katherine’s chaplain, Francis Mallet, intervened to finish Mary’s work. It has been suggested that the illness was an excuse to not finish the work, but this is unlikely as later on, Mary became uncomfortable with the idea of gaining credit for work that was not entirely her work. Katherine, however, reassured her:

All the world knows that you have toiled and laboured much in this business, I do not see why you should repudiate that praise which all men justly confer on you. However, I leave this whole matter to your discretion, and whatever resolution you may adopt, that will meet my fullest approbation.

This shows how very supportive and encouraging Katherine was as a step-mother to Mary and had helped her to become a published author.

Katherine also had a pleasure-loving side. She fully embraced the role of Queen. Her household ate, drank, were merry, sung, danced and took part in sports. Katherine kept hounds and hawks for hunting, parrots for entertainment, and she loved dogs. Katherine’s spaniel, Rig, owned an impressive collar of crimson velvet embroidered with damask gold and it had rings made of silver gilt to attach its lead.

Katherine loved clothes and her wardrobe was full of beautiful and expensive items. Crimson was her favourite colour and she even dressed her footman and pages in Crimson. Even her own lavatory had a crimson velvet canopy, cushions covered in cloth of gold and a seat of crimson velvet. A removable commode was covered in red silk and ribbons, attached with gilt nails. She chose luxurious, expensive fabrics, such as cloth of gold and silver (silver being her favourite), damasks, taffetas, silks, satins and velvets. In the three years that she spent being Henry’s sixth wife, she had bought 315 yards of black velvet, 95 yards of black satin and 35 yards of orange damask. Katherine also had a thing for shoes – she owned no less than an impressive 117 pairs of shoes, although this number did eventually drop to 47 pairs.

What is possibly the most important but little-known fact of the whole Tudor period was that Katherine was a huge influence on the future Queen Elizabeth I. The many little ways that Katherine had helped to mould the young Elizabeth would emerge later on and help to make her the kind of Queen that she became.

Katherine was meticulous in her choice of clothes and jewels for portraits. She wanted to show the world that she was Queen, that she was a regal figure in her own right. Even more interesting, these portraits were not ordered by the King; the Queen had requested these herself. There were more portraits of Katherine than there were of any other Queen of England in this period – but, with the exception of Elizabeth I.

Queen Elizabeth has been seen in many portraits, bedecked with jewellery and fine fabrics, giving a clear message to those looking at her portrait that she was Queen and was so in her right - in very much the same way as Katherine had done once before. Therefore, the young Elizabeth had definitely watched her step-mother and took notes. The image that Katherine gave to the public would have no doubt made a lasting impression on Elizabeth, teaching her the art of being a Queen.

The young Elizabeth and Katherine also shared a love of studying, and Elizabeth became aware of Katherine’s religious interests. As a New Year’s gift in 1544, Elizabeth endeavoured to impress Katherine with a translation of Margaret of Navarre’s Le miroir de l'âme pécheresse. Elizabeth called it The Mirror or Glass of the Sinful Soul. While accomplishing this, Elizabeth learned that the writer “can do nothing that good is or prevaileth for her salvation, unless it be through the grace of God”. This was the earliest statement of Elizabeth’s religious views and was evidence of how possibly Katherine’s reformist beliefs were influencing Elizabeth’s. When Elizabeth grew up and became Queen, unlike her siblings Edward and Mary, she did not favour just Catholicism or Protestantism alone; she worked towards a middle way between the two, leading to the creation of the Church of England. So, having been exposed to her step-mother’s beliefs and then, seeing the two extremes of religion in the reigns of both of her siblings – Protestant Edward and then Catholic Mary – this all must have had an impact of how she wanted to run the country and mediate its spiritual and ecclesiastical issues.

Possibly the most important tutorial in being a Queen that Elizabeth observed came in the summer of 1544. In that summer, the King had sailed to France and Elizabeth observed Katherine as a Queen Regent. This would help to prove to the young Elizabeth that in an age when women were seen as inferior to men, a Queen could rule England just as well as any King. Only Katherine of Aragon had been made Queen Regent before Katherine Parr. Katherine Parr excelled in and took great delight in her new responsibility, handling with ease the mass of papers, taking part in discussions with advisers and make important decisions. This definitely had a great influence on the young Elizabeth who later on as Queen faced and defeated the Spanish Armada. Everything that Elizabeth had learned about being Queen was epitomised in what was to be her most famous speech, given to her army at Tilbury in 1588:

I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all, to lay down my life for my God and for my kingdom and for my people, my honour, and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and a king of England too.

Therefore, the real Katherine Parr was brave, passionate, religious, creative, witty and clever, liked glamour, escaped with her life from the Tower and helped to mould and influence one of English history’s greatest Queens. She even got on well with a Catholic. However, many of us don’t know this because the real Katherine has been tamed.

Images:
- Katherine Parr – artist unknown, painted in 1545.
- Katherine Parr – artist unknown.
- The young Elizabeth.
- Elizabeth I “The Rainbow Portrait”

Sources and suggested further reading:
Katherine the Queen – Linda Porter, Macmillan, 2010.

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By Danielle Marchant
I am an Independent Author from London, UK. I am the author of “The Lady Rochford Saga”, based on the life of Jane Boleyn, Lady Rochford. Both parts 1 and 2 are out now, and I am currently working on part 3, due for release Spring/Summer 2016:

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