Monthly Archives: January 2017

Mr Shore – husband of Edward IV’s mistress

jane-shoreNot a snappy title I know but this post is about who it says on the can!  I keep coming back to Jane Shore (double click to open my previous post in a new window). On this occasion I have a day school of Edward IV coming up and have been reading Margaret Crosland’s Life and Legend of Jane Shore by way of preparation as Jane Shore was the merriest of his mistresses. The lady with the large necklace in the picture next to this paragraph is an assumed portrait of Jane.  Victorian compositions tend to show her suitably draped in a sheet doing public penance for her harlotry!

 

Edward IV’s mistress was, of course, Jane Shore, immortalised by Sir Thomas More’s sympathetic portrayal.  She was baptised Elizabeth Lambert. Popular history has her husband down as Matthew Shore – goldsmith. Interestingly Thomas More does not identify Shore’s first name or his profession.

Scrub out Matthew Shore- goldsmith for the time being.  Replace him with William Shore – mercer.  John Lambert, Jane’s father was a mercer and William turns up often in the Mercers’ Company accounts. Let’s face it the link makes much more sense.

William was born in Derby in the mid 1430s making him fifteen or so years older than Jane (i.e. twice her age when they married).  It is suggested that his father may have been Robert Shore a churchwarden for All Hallows, Derby.  Crosland notes the extent to which the Shores donated items to the church which draws on Sutton’s research.  His parents managed to marry their daughter, apparently their only other child, into a local gentry family, the Agards, and have William apprenticed in London. Sutton notes that Richard Claver an eminent member of the Mercers’ Company had family links with Derby. In any event young William was apprenticed, experienced the full rigours of life as apprentice and journeyman before entering the Mercers’ Company in 1459 at the latest.  William travelled extensively it appears and struck a deal with John Lambert that acquired him a bride.

Crosland next finds the couple in the Court of Arches near the church of St Mary-le-Bow. The job of this court was to check degrees of consanguinity and clarify legal issues before marriage took place. Really and truly, Crosland explains, Jane Shore had no business being there as she was already married and the court could make no judgement on her case.

Yet it transpires that Jane, a comely wench, had a problem.  Her duty as a wife was to beget children – but it takes two to tango as they say in Halifax. Sadly for Jane, Mr Shore wasn’t interested in tangoes or indeed any other aspect of physical married life.  Jane kept returning to the Court of Arches trying to have her marriage annulled.  The case as it is presented is simple – she has been married for three years but the marriage had not been consummated. This apparently was the legal requirement for the dissolution of the marriage but the Court of Arches could merely shrug its shoulders and say it was none of their business.

Realistically someone of Jane’s station couldn’t expect to pay the prohibitive costs involved in taking the case to Rome where such matters were discussed.

Somewhat surprisingly then Jane was granted a divorce by Pope  Sixtus IV on the 4th March 1476. Desmond Seward and Margaret Crosland surmise that someone with a bit of clout and a lot of money had taken an interest in Jane’s plight…quite possibly Edward IV.

Interestingly William Shore also received communication from the Yorkist king.  In 1476 he was in receipt of letters of protection and he doesn’t turn up in London’s records until 1484.  It looks as though William left the country immediately after his marriage was terminated and didn’t feel it prudent to return until after Edward’s demise.

slabsclopton_smallWilliam Shore or Schower died in 1495 and is buried in Scropton in Derbyshire.  Scropton lies on land once owned by the Agard family. His monument is still available to view should one feel the urge. History even provides his will which is transcribed in the Sutton article which shows that he maintained his links with Derby both during his life and after his death.

Crosland, Margaret. (2006) The Life and Legend of Jane Shore. Stroud: Sutton Publishing

Seward, Desmond. (1995) The Wars of the Roses and the Lives and Five Men and Women of the Fifteenth Century.  Constable

Sutton, Anne F  (1986) “William Shore, Merchant of London and Derby” Derbyshire Archeological Journal Vol 106 pp 127-39 distributed by York: Archaeology Data Service (distributor) (doi:10.5284/1018074).http://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archiveDS/archiveDownload?t=arch-2300-1/dissemination/pdf/106/DAJ_v106_1986_127-139.pdf

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Filed under Fifteenth Century, The Plantagenets

Henry VIII pops his clogs

henryholbeinOkay – so I’m a couple of days out.  On the plus side at the end of January 1547 the news of Henry VIII’s death was kept secret for two days following his demise on the 28th Janury at Whitehall so that arrangements could be made to move young King Edward VI to the Tower from Hoddesdon and so that Sir Edward Seymour and Sir William Paget could persuade the sixteen council members identified in Henry’s will that it would be far better if Edward Seymour, earl of Hertford shortly to be duke of Somerset would be an infinitely preferable choice as Lord Protector rather than a regency council of sixteen  as envisaged in Henry’s will.

This post coincides with the date  (30th Jan) that Chancellor Wriothesley cried buckets of crocodile tears in Parliament when he stood to announce that Henry was dead. He had been on the throne since 1509. The King is dead! Long live the King!

Cranmer had arrived in the nick of time from his home in Croydon to administer the last rites to his master after Sir Anthony Denny eventually plucked up the courage to tell Henry that he was dying. To predict the death of the king was treason – even when stating the obvious.  At that time Henry could speak but by the time Cranmer arrived having been delayed on icy roads Henry was beyond words and could only squeeze his archbishop’s hand to show that he trusted in his salvation through Christ.  And let’s face it if anyone had need of forgiveness then it was Henry who’d shuffled two wives off this mortal coil somewhat before their time as well as rather a lot of his nobility, his monastics and his thinkers as well as ordinary citizens who hadn’t gone along with his religious views, been in the wrong place at the wrong time or had the temerity to have a family tree that was rather more distinguished than his own.  And that’s before we get to the dissolution of the monasteries and the harassment of his first wife and the Princess Mary.

Weir suggests that Henry died of a pulmonary embolism (Weir, 502). Earlier writers suggested that his wives failure to produce sons, his ulcerated leg and his increasing paranoia were symptoms of syphilis although an article in the Journal of Medical Biography states that these factors are not evidence of syphilis and more specifically Henry was never treated for ‘the pox’.   It has even been suggested that the king famous for getting steadily bulkier with each passing year was suffering from malnutrition bought about by fasting- and certainly not eating his greens. Certainly his own physicians record him suffering from constipation. A more recent writer, whose name escapes me at the moment (sorry) suggests that the ulcerated leg could have been caused by an over tight garter. It has also been suggested that Henry’s jousting accident on 24 January 1536 which knocked him out cold (Anne Boleyn claimed her miscarriage of the male infant that would certainly have saved her life had it lived was the result of hearing the news) caused many of his health problems in later years.

Henry certainly had a series of strokes as he neared the end of his life.  In the last year of his life he was carried everywhere, he could be smelled a room before he arrived, was short-tempered and he showed symptoms of depression. It has also been suggested that he had Cushing’s Syndrome and that’s only the start of it.  Robert Hutchinson opts for renal and liver failure not to mention the effects of being so obese as the causes of Henry’s death at the age of fifty-five.  He’d been on the throne since his eighteenth year.

By the nineteenth century Henry’s death had been somewhat embroidered including the idea that Henry’s last conscious words were “Monks! Monks! Monks!” whilst staring manically into darkened corners where the spectres of  his monastic victims lurked. He’s also supposed to have cried out for Jane Seymour.  Whilst the former is a work of fiction the latter does have an element of truth in it if we look at his will.  He wished to be buried in Windsor next to his “true wife” – or in other words the one who’d provided a male heir.

I couldn’t really finish this post off without the gory story of Syon Abbey.  Henry’s body was popped into its casket which in turn was covered with blue velvet. On the journey to Windsor the king’s body rested overnight in Syon Abbey – rather unfortunately the contents leaked of the coffin dripped onto the stone floor beneath the trestle upon which it was resting. When the entourage turned up in the morning to continue their journey they saw a stray dog enjoying an unexpected early morning snack, er, let’s just say soup under the coffin.  Friar Peto, a loyal supporter of Katherine of Aragon, had preached a sermon in 1532 comparing Anne Boleyn to Jezabel and Henry to King Ahab.  When Ahab died wild dogs licked his blood.  Peto hadn’t won friends and influenced people- most specifically the king- when he suggested that the same fate would befall Henry if he set aside his lawful wife and broke with the Pope. Sadly it seems according to Alison Weir that this is yet another Victorian flight of fancy.

Want to know more? Click on the link to the Journal of Medical Biography.

Cohen J. Did blood cause Henry VIII’s madness and reproductive woes? March 4, 2011. History Web site. http://www.history.com/news/did-blood-cause-henry-viiis-madness-and-reproductive-woes.

Hutchinson, Robert (2005)  The Last Days of Henry VIII: Conspiracies, Treason and Heresy at the Court of the Dying Tyrant.

Keynes M. The personality and health of King Henry VIII (1491-1547). Journal of Medical Biography 2005;13:174.http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/096777200501300313

Weir, A. Henry VIII: King and Court, 2001.

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Filed under January, Kings of England, On this day..., Sixteenth Century, The Tudors

Clifford, Maxwell and the mysterious rebels

IMG_3982Henry Clifford, Earl of Cumberland wrote to Cromwell on 22 January from Skipton (pictured left)– a fair way from the Scottish border it would have to be said- announcing that the outlaws who lived in the Debateable Land between England and Scotland in Liddesdale, had been burned out like so many rats from their nests. Maxwell, the Lord Warden of the Scottish West March – there being six wardens in total, three on the Scottish side and three on the English side for the administrative West, Middle and East marches- had done the burning.  He was now complaining that Clifford, as his corresponding opposite number, had not done his share of outlaw removal. Clifford now wanted to know Cromwell’s view on the matter. This was in itself fairly routine as was the request to be excused attending Parliament on account of wardenry business.

 

The rest of the content of the letter speaks of more uncertain political currents. Clifford mentions two Scottish rebels that King James V wanted returned to Scotland who were at that time in Lord Dacre’s castle at Rockcliff or “Rouclyf” as he spells it. He goes on to add that it’s not just the English who have given shelter to James’ enemies but that Lord Maxwell has been seen riding openly with English rebels even at a truce day when the two wardens would meet to dispense justice. Maxwell, quite reasonably, has tried to negotiate an exchange of ‘rebels’ but notes that Maxwell has claimed that the English rebels “were in the woods.”

 

He explains that King James V was going to go to Dumfries that spring and this being the case nothing was likely to happen until the king had spoken on the matter. James had attempted to bring some order to his border barony in 1530 when he summoned them all to Edinburgh for a verbal dressing down and a swift execution of one William Cockburn of Henderland as a lesson to them all (Macdonald Fraser, 257). It didn’t have any noteable effect on the borderers so James was forced to execute Johnny Armstrong of Gilknockie which resulted in immortality in the form of a border ballad for fair Johnny Armstrong who dressed rather better than his monarch if the balladeer was telling the truth on the matter.

 

So who were these assorted rebels of 1536? And what did Lord Dacre have to do with it? A quick look in the Border History of England and Scotland reveals that King Henry had bestowed the order of the Garter upon his nephew the previous year and that James was intent on finding a wife having contemplated marrying his mistress Margaret Erskine (he’d got so far as divorcing her from her husband but then changed his mind perhaps realising that it would all be very complicated) but there was nothing on the subject of rebels hopscotching their way merrily across the border. Having said that Ridpath manages to cover the Pilgrimage of Grace in a paragraph so clearly 1536 wasn’t a year that interested him particularly. MacDonald Fraser isn’t much more helpful on the subject either.

 

thomas fiennesThere is a strong suspicion that Clifford may have been attempting to drop Dacre in the mire with Cromwell. Macdonald Fraser notes a feud that ran between Clifford and Dacre throughout the 1530s though he doesn’t specify whether its Dacre of Gilsland or Dacre of the South, pictured left, – Thomas Fiennes (double click to open an older post on the topic of Fiennes). Fiennes owned Rockcliff and he was twenty in 1536. He took part in Ann Boleyn’s trial, rode to put down the Pilgrimage of Grace and was at hand to assist with the baptism of young Prince Edward. By the end of 1541 he would be dead – executed for murder as a result of a poaching expedition gone wrong and a miscarriage of justice. But it wasn’t Fiennes that had the feud with Clifford. It was Lord Dacre of Gilsland.

 

Dacre of Gilsland had got himself into trouble with Henry VIII for his support of Cardinal Wolsey whose northern lands he administered. He’d also been involved in several cross border skirmishes and there are several accounts of encounters between Dacre and Maxwell as wardens, allies and opponents down the years. Somewhere along the line in 1534 he found himself being accused of treason. Although he was acquitted he was relieved of his post as Warden of the English West March. The new holder of the post was the earl of Cumberland. There then followed a series of running skirmishes between the two gentlemen in question that can only be described in terms of theft, arson and general thuggery.

And that brings us to the Scottish West March Warden – Robert Maxwell. He was the Fifth Lord Maxwell and it should be added had benefitted from the death of Johnny Armstrong when he acquired the Gilknockie lands. In 1536 he would take a trip to Penrith with several fellow Scots and burn it – perhaps he became confused about the size of the Debeateable Lands or perhaps he was helping himself to English cattle at the time! He also found himself on the council governing Scotland whilst James V went off in search of a French bride. He was absent for nine months and completely missed the Pilgrimage of Grace.  Maxwell regretted his master’s absence during England’s troubles.  He was heard to say that had James been home rather than gallivanting around Europe that Carlisle would have fallen into Scottish hands.

As for the rebels – I’ve added them to my little list of queries. I’ve got a few ideas but I can’t find any specific reference to them.  Suffice it to say that both Henry VIII and James V had their fair share of “rebels” for assorted political and religious reasons.  By the end of 1536 there were going to be a whole lot more of them.

 

Macdonald Fraser, George. (1995) The Steel Bonnets. London: Harper Collins

Ridpath, George. (1979) Border History. Edinburgh:The Mercat Press

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Filed under Anglo-Scottish history, Border Reivers, Sixteenth Century, The Tudors

Cromwell, Love and Coggeshall Abbey

640px-Cromwell,Thomas(1EEssex)01It’s been a while but I thought I’d have a quick look at Master Cromwell and his cronies.  January 1536 was a busy month for Cromwell aside from the matter of someone being caught poaching on Crown land and various monastic types trying to offer him large annuities.  The Abbot of Coggeshall in Essex took matters a stage further as a tersely worded note explains. Having already been visited by Thomas Legh the abbot now gave orders to lie about the plate within the abbey so that the “King shall not have it,” he let lands below their value, failed to say mass for Henry and Anne Boleyn and if that weren’t enough to get him into huge amounts of trouble practised divination and immorality (hopefully not at the same time.) The note was supported by the witness of Richard Braintree ( a monk aged thirty-one) and John Bocking ( also a monk) – Both men, given their surnames, were local and both had a grievance against William Love the abbot as both went into rather a lot of detail about the divination and prophecy that Love was supposed to have indulged in not to mention the immorality which turned out to be a rumour that was at least ten years old. Inevitably the subject of Love’s loyalty to the Pope arose as did the fact he was in communion with heretics and given to discussing the works of Luther – which would suggest that either the abbot was somewhat conflicted or else the good bretheren weren’t sure which side of the religious fence to dump their superior. The evidence was rounded off with the information that Love only got the job of abbot by paying three hundred marks for the privilege – and that came from the abbey’s own funds.

The fact that at the distance of five hundred-or-so-years even a casual glance at the charges should leave readers shaking their heads in disbelief didn’t stop Cromwell from launching a thorough investigation resulting in the abbot being relieved of his post but it should be noted that despite this he was still in receipt of a pension when the abbey was suppressed – let’s hope he foretold it accurately!

The monks, originally a Savignac foundation by King Stephen, were Cistercian.  The fact that a king was their founder somehow made William Love’s missing of the prayers for the monarch even worse. The abbey finally surrendered in February 1538 and the following month it was handed lock, stock and everything else to Sir Thomas Seymour, brother of Jane Seymour.

More immediately, so far as Cromwell was concerned, there was Katherine of Aragon’s will to be dealt with; there were repairs that needed to be carried out in Kimbolton to be approved and there was also the matter of her dresses which by rights belonged to the king but which she’d given away.  Richard Rich who would continue to climb the greasy Tudor administrative pole after Cromwell’s demise was on hand to report to his master about the problems he faced:

The gentlewomen claim divers apparel as given them by the lady Dowager, and the officers divers stuff as their fees. It would not be honorable to take the things given in her lifetime. Kimbolton, Saturday, 22 Jan.

 

The lady Dowager is, of course, the name given to Katherine by Henry based on the assumption that she was only ever properly married to Prince Arthur.

Property and belongings feature rather heavily in January because it was on the 22nd that the Earl of Northumberland wrote to Henry proposing that he would leave all his estates and money to the king in his will meaning that his younger brother would get the title and not much else – thus breaking the power of the earls of Northumberland once and for all.

Rather excitingly for me and for tomorrow’s post there was also the small matter, contained in two very irritable letters from the Earl of Cumberland, pertaining to border matters.  He writes in particular about quelling the Debatable Lands, the Maxwells and English rebels. Time to get the MacDonald Fraser off the bookcase methinks.

‘Henry VIII: January 1536, 21-25’, in Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 10, January-June 1536, ed. James Gairdner (London, 1887), pp. 47-64. British History Online http://www.british-history.ac.uk/letters-papers-hen8/vol10/pp47-64 [accessed 22 January 2017].

“Houses of Cistercian monks: Abbey of Coggeshall.” A History of the County of Essex: Volume 2. Eds. William Page, and J Horace Round. London: Victoria County History, 1907. 125-129. British History Online. Web. 21 January 2017. http://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/essex/vol2/pp125-129.

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Thomas, Lord Roos

lroosThe name of Lord Roos crops up with monotonous regularity during the Wars of the Roses between 1460 until 1464’s Battle of Hexham.  Unfortunately he was caught skulking in the aftermath of Lancastrian defeat and executed.

So, who exactly was he.  Thomas, Lord Roos or de Ros was the ninth baron of that particular title.  One of his ancestors was one of the signatories of the Magna Carta.  Our Thomas inherited the title from his father when he was just four years old. His mother, Eleanor,  was a daughter of the Earl of Warwick – the one who was responsible for educating the young king Henry VI. After Roos Senior’s demise Eleanor married Edmund Beaufort, the second Duke of  Somerset (he’s the younger Beaufort brother who wanted to marry the widowed Katherine of Valois but the Duke of Gloucester put a spanner in the works passing a law stating that Katherine would need her son’s permission when he came of age and if any marrying went on before then that all the new spouses lands and titles would be forfeit – which put Edmund off the idea somewhat).  Feeling light headed?  If nothing else, take away from this pedigree that Lord Roos was deeply Lancastrian through political affiliation, blood lines and loyalty not least because Henry VI favoured young Thomas with various tax reliefs and grants of land.

 

Lord Roos was in command of the Lancastrian left flank on the Wakefield side of the Lancastrian army with Lord Clifford holding the centre and the earl of Wiltshire holding the Lancastrian right flank.  Richard of York left Sandal Castle and came down onto open ground thinking that he outnumbered the Lancastrians who gave ground in the first instance which drew the Yorkists still further into the waiting trap.  Unfortunately the Lancastrian left and right flank were concealed and so Richard did not realise his error. They now emerged, cutting off his retreat and in Edward Hall’s words “catching him like a fish in a net.” Hall is not a reliable chronicler being heavy on Tudor spin but he does have an unexpected link to the events at Wakefield, his grandfather Sir Davy Hall was a loyal servant of York and he had advised caution during the Yorkist council of war – i.e. staying firmly behind Sandal’s wall and awaiting substantial reinforcements.  In the event Sir Davy Hall died at Wakefield along with approximately 3,000 other men – 2,600 ish Yorkists and 200 Lancastrians.

As for Lord Roos, well Fortune’s wheel turns, albeit slowly and one of his descendants became the Earl of Rutland during the reign of Henry VIII – which is rather ironic given that Richard of York’s son Edmund, who was killed during his flight from the battle by Lord Clifford, held the title Earl of Rutland.

 

The double banner at the top of this post depicts his arms.  The charge of which are apparently three water bougets on a red or “gules” background.  A bouget or budget for those of you who feel the need to know is a leather bag on a pole or yoke used to carry water (thank you my very old Oxford English Dictionary).  Double click on the image to open up a rather marvellous web page depicting if not all, most, banners that could be found on the various battle fields of the Wars of the Roses.

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Sir William Paget

WilliamPagetWilliam Paget is typical of Tudor administrators.  He rose not because of his bloodline but because of his ability.  He was educated at Cambridge.  His tutor was Stephen Gardiner (I told you they were all related and now I’ll add that they all know each other!)  After Paget completed his studies Gardiner, who would become Bishop of Winchester and by the end of Henry VIII’s reign  conservative scion of Catholicism, found Paget a role in his own household.

Somewhat ironically then Paget first makes his appearance on the political stage in 1529 in Henry VIII’s so-called Reformation Parliament- for his parliamentary biography double click on the image which accompanies this post. He continued working for Gardiner until it became apparent that Cromwell was the horse to back.  Inevitably his letters to Cromwell at this time can be found in Henry VIII’s letters and papers.  He appears again as Jane Seymour’s secretary which naturally enough brought him into close contact with Jane’s brothers Sir Edward Seymour and Sir Thomas Seymour.

Increasingly Paget became associated with the so-called Protestant faction of Henry VIII’s privy council even though he was also secretary to Anne of Cleves and Catherine Howard. He also served for a time as Ambassador in France – diplomacy, spying etc.

The removal of Thomas Cromwell in 1540 left Henry VIII without a single capable man of all business.  The privy council resumed some of its former importance and men such as Paget who had proved themselves solidly reliable were able to garner more power to themselves now that it wasn’t all focused on one individual.

 

 

Paget tends to be identified as one of the key figures in the transition of power from Henry VIII to Sir Edward Seymour, earl of Hertford when Edward VI ascended the throne. Seymour shortly afterwards became Duke of Somerset followed by becoming Lord Protector.  Henry VIII’s will envisaged the sixteen strong privy council sharing responsibility for guiding the young king and governing during his minority rather than investing power in the hands of one man.  It says something for Paget’s powers of persuasiveness. Inevitably when Somerset fell from power Paget, who’d gained a title by then as well as a substantial estate including land belonging to Burton Abbey in Staffordshire, also found himself under a cloud…in the Tower.  He’d regained his position by 1552 (so a man with essential survival skills).

Those survival skills are demonstrated but the fact that he continued in office during the reign of Queen Mary rising to the role of Lord Privy Seal.  Although he was keen on Mary’s marriage to Philip of Spain he was less enthusiastic about the idea of executing Princess Elizabeth – which was probably just as well.  In 1558 when Mary died he chose to retire from public life but he acted as an advisor, on occasion, during Elizabeth’s reign – making him the most unusual of Tudor administrators – a man who kept his head and served not one but four of the Tudors. And what makes it even more amazing is that he had agreed to bypass Mary and place Lady Jane Grey on the throne. He died in 1563 at the age of fifty-eight.

In addition to manoeuvring his way through the snakes and ladders of Tudor politics Sir William found time to marry and father ten children. Three of his four sons survived to adulthood.  I have posted about them elsewhere on the History Jar  https://thehistoryjar.com/tag/sir-william-paget/  as the youngest son, Charles, turned out to be anything but loyal to the Tudor crown.  He was a catholic conspirator against Elizabeth.  There is an irony in this because one of Paget’s roles during the reign of Henry VIII was counter-intelligence.

 

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Henry Howard- Henry VIII’s last victim.

henry_howard_earl_of_surrey_1546-289x300Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey is perhaps not one of Henry VIII’s most likeable victims although perhaps one of the most gifted as a poet. His father was Thomas Howard, duke of Norfolk and his mother was Elizabeth Stafford, daughter of the Duke of Buckingham.  This meant he was doubly descended from Edward III.  Now whilst some folk wear their aristocracy lightly Henry looked down his nose at virtually everyone as being inferior to him.  He couldn’t abide Cromwell and wasn’t terribly keen on the Seymour brothers regarding their bloodline as inferior to his own. Understandably this outlook didn’t win him many friends and ultimately it would cost him his life, in between times it landed him in rather a lot of debt as he certainly believed in living in style.

Howard born in 1517 was bought up at Windsor with Henry Fitzroy, Henry VIII’s illegitimate son with Bessie Blount.  His sister Mary Howard would marry Fitzroy. His cousin, Anne Boleyn, would marry the aforementioned monarch.  In short in Henry Howard’s youth his fortune looked assured.

In 1536 it all changed for the Howards. Anne Boleyn was executed for treason, Henry Fitzroy died and Henry Howard, who took part in the suppression of the Pilgrimage of Grace, was accused of having sympathy for it by Thomas Darcy at his trial. This accusation was to haunt Surrey.  The Seymours who, although related to the Howards, formed a rival faction used Surrey’s supposed sympathy with the pilgrims as a slur against the Howard family.  The earl of Surrey was a tad on the touchy side so thought nothing of striking a courtier who repeated the gossip.  It probably didn’t help that Thomas Cromwell was also using the information as a means of keeping the Howards in line.  The combined effects of breaking court rules and getting on the wrong side of Cromwell resulted in him spending time in prison – although it was Windsor- whilst there he developed a deep-seated dislike for Cromwell and low born advisers in general.  He came to regard new men who’d gained their places by virtue of their intellect and ability rather than their family trees as the lowest of the low.

He was released in time to mourn Jane Seymour’s demise but the “most foolish proud boy” was back in trouble in 1542 for fighting a duel. At about the same time he was accused of eating meat during Lent which was more dangerous than fighting the duel because it smacked of Protestantism.  Henry’s reformation was a very mild one – in that he was head of the Church and everything else stayed more or less the same. Surrey was also accused of vandalism and shooting arrows at Southwark’s prostitutes by way of light entertainment (what a delightful chap).

By 1546 it was becoming ever clearer that Henry, who was in his thirty-seventh year as king, was reaching the end of his life. Young Prince Edward would require a regency council. The factions circled one another warily vying for power.  In one corner were the reformers headed up by Jane Seymour’s brothers – the royal uncles.  In the other corner were the conservative Catholic faction headed up by Stephen Gardener, Bishop of Winchester and Thomas Howard, duke of Norfolk.

Norfolk came up with a marriage plan that would have united the two opposing families.  He suggested that Henry Fitzroy’s widow Mary could marry Thomas Seymour.  He also wanted two of Surrey’s sons to marry two of Edward Seymour’s daughters.  Surrey was against the idea because he thought that Seymour was beneath him.  Henry VIII thought it was an excellent idea but Seymour wasn’t particularly keen – he didn’t want to share power with the wily duke of Norfolk.

Surrey taking a leaf from his father’s book considered the options that were available and told his sister Mary that she ought to make herself available to the king – mistress would be good but wife number seven would be better.  Mary was not amused.  The siblings had a very public argument.

And that might have been that apart from the fact that when Surrey had been busy breaking windows and terrifying ladies of the night a maid called Alice Flaner who worked at an inn near St Lawrence Lane had been questioned and she’d revealed that Surrey regarded himself as something of a prince and that he’d said that if anything should happen to the king then the Howards would have a jolly good claim.  For an intelligent man who wrote some of the greatest poetry of the period it was a pretty stupid thing to have thought, let alone said in the hearing of others.

In December 1546 Surrey’s chickens came home to roost. He was arrested on the 2nd. The duke of Norfolk was also rounded up.  Father and son were sent to the Tower. Their home at Kenninghall was searched and their belongings confiscated. Everyone who had a grudge against the Howards emerged from the woodwork to offer their two penneth – mostly recounting Surrey’s dislike of the low born and his own inflated view of himself.

Mary Howard was also called as a witness.  She told the tale of Norfolk’s plans to forge an alliance with the Seymours and of Surrey’s objections. She along with Bessie Holland (Norfolk’s mistress) also mentioned Surrey’s new heraldic device – they noted that they didn’t like it and neither did the Duke of Norfolk. Very very foolishly in a realm where being Plantagenet could result in an appointment with the axeman Surrey had started using his grandfather Buckingham’s coat of arms along with other Plantagenet emblems.  In resurrecting the defunct coat of arms it was claimed that Surrey was repudiating the attainder that Richard III had served against Buckingham and was also stating his claim to the throne.  It was a very complicated coat of arms because Surrey had also managed to dredge up his link to Edward the Confessor and include that on the arms as well.  Lord Chancellor Wriothesley knew that not only did he have Surrey “bang to rights” but that Henry VIII would regard it as a direct threat to the Tudor succession.

Now whilst Henry didn’t necessarily wish for the balance of power to shift too far in the direction of the Seymours he couldn’t risk Surrey’s claim to the crown – at least not once Wriothesley had carefully explained it to him. Whether he’d meant to or not Surrey had managed to fall foul of the Succession Act of 1536. He was tried at the Guildhall where he called his accusers low born and wretched.  He was outraged that one of the witnesses was a woman…never mind the fact that it was his sister who’d revealed Surrey’s plan to make her Henry’s mistress.

Henry Howard, earl of Surrey was executed on 19th January 1547.  Henry VIII would die just nine days later – a fact which saved the duke of Norfolk from suffering the same fate as his son.

Hutchinson, Robert. (2009) House of Treason: Rise and Fall of a Tudor Dynasty. London: Pheonix

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Elizabeth I’s rainbow dress

Elizabeth-1-Rainbow-Portrait.jpgTudor fashion for noble women such as Elizabeth I was complicated it involved the basic smock or shift that was changed every day. Over this were layered and laced a body and a kirtle; then came the farthing gale with its stiffened hoops which gave the silhouette; then petticoats.  The top petticoat would be embroidered. Over the underskirts came the gown which was composed of a skirt and bodice.  If that weren’t enough sometimes an overgrown might also be worn especially if it was very cold in which case it would probably be lined with fur.  As if that weren’t enough there was also a stomacher to conceal all the joins and just in case you wanted a different colour combo the sleeves of the bodice were interchangeable so they would need lacing into place as well. Then just for good measure there was the ruff.  Needless to say getting into the royal get up took substantial amounts of time.  It has been calculated that getting dressed each morning took Elizabeth I two hours.

Clothes, once they’d served their purpose, were handed down to servants or poorer members of your extended family.  If they were too far gone to be handed down any further they might be “ripped” – that is to say they were cut up and used to make other things – hangings, cushion covers and altar clothes for example – and that brings me to today’s post via Bacton Church in Herefordshire, the Radio 4 news this morning and a quick trawl of the Internet.

It turns out, according to The Telegraph that Eleri Lynn a curator of historic dress at Hampton Court spotted something significant in Bacton. The beautiful sixteenth century altar cloth made from cloth of silver with its embroidered flowers is part of Elizabeth I’s frock, possibly the one she wore for the Rainbow Portrait.  So how did it get to Bacton and how did Ms Lynn spot it.

The story of its discovery took someone with expert knowledge of England’s sumptuary laws.  Or put another way what we could and couldn’t wear without getting into trouble in the past.  Henry VIII passed rather a lot of sumptuary laws including the one that anyone below the rank of knight was forbidden to wear a pleated shirt! Another law was that only members of the royal family could wear cloth of silver.The altar cloth at Bacton was made from cloth of silver.

A bit of digging around reveals that Blanche Parry was born at Bacton and that there’s a memorial to her there.  She was one of Elizabeth I’s ladies-in-waiting. Well, actually, she was the keeper of her jewels and chief of the ladies after  Ashley died.William Cecil was Blanche’s cousin (I keep telling you that they’re all related). It’s been tricky finding anything out about her even though there’s a website dedicated to her. She began her career as a royal nursery maid and progressed to the role of friend and trustee.  She accrued wealth without marrying and maintained an interest in her home at Bacton throughout her life.  It’s not unreasonable to suppose that the dress was given to Parry and that she in turn handed it or the completed cloth over to the church at Bacton. The Telegraph has an interesting article which may be accessed here.

Ironically the dress’s disappearance from the royal wardrobe is probably what saved it from complete destruction.  Jewels and pearls would have been removed once Elizabeth had finished with the dress and then the garment stored by the Wardrobe which was not a small wooden cupboard but a department hence the capitalisation. Oliver Cromwell came along and sold the lot off in the aftermath of the English Civil War.

On a personal note, and I may just be getting old and grumpy so feel free to ignore this bit, whilst the cloth has been preserved by professionals and whilst it is important historically speaking it has been in Bacton for the last five hundred years. Whoever cared for it managed to preserve it from moths, roundheads and all the other fates that could have befallen it. Consequentially,  I fail to see why it has to be kept at Hampton Court from now on- couldn’t it stay in Herefordshire? As I understand it History has very occasionally occurred beyond the confines of the M25. There are even some of us who rather enjoy looking at the aforementioned History in situ ( or as clause as possible)  as well as exploring the countryside rather than traipsing to London to be charged an arm and a leg for the privilege. Hey ho – rant over.

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The death of Katherine of Aragon

catherine of aragonOn January 7 1536www.beautifulbritain.co.ukKatherine of Aragon died at Kimbolton Castle in Cambridgeshire. Sir Edward Chamberlain and Sir Edmund Beddingfield, the late queen’s, er, hosts, wrote to Cromwell detailing the events of the day and asking for further orders as well as requesting a plumber to ‘enclose the body in lead.’

Cromwell then set about organising the funeral as well as dealing with the usual missives about monasteries.  On the 7th of January he had a letter from the Abbot of Whitby who’d been accused of piracy and another from Sir Francis Bigod who’d encountered a monk from Roche Abbey in York Castle accused of treason because he’d denied the supremacy.

Meanwhile Eustace Chapuys sent an account of Katherine’s final days to her nephew Charles V.  He’d hurried to Kimbolton on the 30th December. Chapuys noted that he’d been accompanied by one of Cromwell’s men and that he and the queen ensured that they always had witnesses to their conversation.  Katherine was careful not to be accused of plotting against her erstwhile spouse:

After I had kissed hands she took occasion to thank me for the numerous services I had done her hitherto and the trouble I had taken to come and see her, a thing that she had very ardently desired… at all events, if it pleased God to take her, it would be a consolation to her to die under my guidance (entre mes braz) and not unprepared, like a beast…I gave her every hope, both of her health and otherwise, informing her of the offers the King had made me of what houses she would, and to cause her to be paid the remainder of certain arrears, adding, for her further consolation, that the King was very sorry for her illness; and on this I begged her to take heart and get well, if for no other consideration, because the union and peace of Christendom depended upon her life.

Chapuys may have arrived in England as the Imperial Ambassador – a professional diplomat but it is clear that he had become fond of Katherine. He spent the next four days at Kimbolton and believing that her health had rallied took his leave promising to do his best to have her moved to better accommodation:

“And seeing that she began to take a little sleep, and also that her stomach retained her food, and that she was better than she had been, she thought, and her physician agreed with her (considering her out of danger), that I should return, so as not to abuse the licence the King had given me, and also to request the King to give her a more convenient house, as he had promised me at my departure. I therefore took leave of her on Tuesday evening, leaving her very cheerful.”

It was only when Chapuys arrived back in London and asked Cromwell for an audience with the King that he learned of Katherine’s death:

“This has been the most cruel news that could come to me, especially as I fear the good Princess will die of grief, or that the concubine will hasten what she has long threatened to do, viz., to kill her; and it is to be feared that there is little help for it. I will do my best to comfort her, in which a letter from your Majesty would help greatly. I cannot relate in detail the circumstances of the Queen’s decease, nor how she has disposed of her affairs, for none of her servants has yet come. I know not if they have been detained.”

The letter also demonstrates Cromwell’s efficiency organising Katherine’s funeral.  He even arranged for Chapuys to have black cloth for his mourning garb.  Chapuys declined the offer preferring his own clothes for the occasion.

Katherine had disposed of her affairs.  Recognising the end was near she had taken steps to ensure that her will was written.  There was also the famous last letter penned on her death bed to Henry.  Sadly, Tremlett suggests it was a work of fiction – but he also recognises that the letter may well reflect her feelings (why do all the best bits turn out to be fictions, amends and fabrications?):

The hour of my death now approaching, I cannot choose but, out of the love I bear you, to advise you of your soul’s health, which you ought to prefer before all considerations of the world or flesh whatsoever. For which yet you have cast me into many calamities, and yourself into many troubles. But I forgive you all, and pray God to do so likewise. For the rest, I commend unto you Mary, our daughter, beseeching you to be a good father to her. I must entreat you also to look after my maids, and give them in marriage, which is not much, they being but three, and to all my other servants, a year’s pay besides their due, lest otherwise they should be unprovided for until they find new employment. Lastly, I want only one true thing, to make this vow: that, in this life, mine eyes desire you alone, May God protect you.

When news of Katherine’s demise arrived in London Henry and Anne celebrated, famously by wearing yellow, but it is said that later Anne cried – perhaps she recognised that there was no one standing between her and Henry’s wrath anymore. She was pregnant at the time but by the beginning of summer she had miscarried a boy and her days were numbered.

‘Henry VIII: January 1536, 6-10’, in Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 10, January-June 1536, ed. James Gairdner (London, 1887), pp. 12-26. British History Online http://www.british-history.ac.uk/letters-papers-hen8/vol10/pp12-26 [accessed 6 January 2017].

Tremlett, G. 2010  Catherine of Aragon: Henry’s Spanish Queen.

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Anne of Cleves – not love at first sight

anne of clevesAnne of Cleves has gone down in history  rather unfairly in my view as ‘The Flanders Mare’ on account of the fact that Henry VIII found his fourth bride distasteful; so distasteful in fact that he was unable to consummate the marriage. Eustace Chapuys the Imperial Ambassador recounted their first meeting:

On New Year’s Eve the duke of Norfolk with other knights and the barons of the exchequer received her grace on the heath, two miles beyond Rochester, and so brought her to the abbey of Rochester where she stayed that night and all New Years Day. And on New Years Day in the afternoon the king’s grace with five of his privy chamber, being disguised with mottled cloaks with hoods so that they should not be recognized, came secretly to Rochester, and so went up into the chamber where the said Lady Anne was looking out of a window to see the bull-baiting which was going on in the courtyard, and suddenly he embraced and kissed her, and showed here a token which the king had sent her for New Year’s gift, and she being abashed and not knowing who it was thanked him, and so he spoke with her. But she regarded him little, but always looked out the window…. and when the king saw that she took so little notice of his coming he went into another chamber and took off his cloak and came in again in a coat of purple velvet. And when the lords and knights saw his grace they did him reverence

 

Essentially the problem was not with Anne’s appearance nor even her clothing, after all her German style could have been changed for English fashion – no the problem was that no one had warned Anne about Henry’s favourite activity of pretending to be a lowly knight or Robin Hood and being recognised for his inner majesty…think sixteenth century pantomime. Accounts of court revels from periods when Katherine of Aragon was queen demonstrate that Henry was an ardent pursuer of this courtly pursuit but of course everyone at the English court was in on the secret.  With Henry it was all about the show and the performance. Sadly although someone had taught Anne to play cards on the journey from Cleves to England no one had thought to tell her that a fat old bloke would in all likely hood burst in on her and expect her to fall in love at first sight as well as instantly recognising the heroic monarch.

It must have come as something as a shock when Anne failed to recognise Henry. It is easy to see that Anne not knowing who Henry was or what English customs were was embarrassed by the fat overfamiliar stranger who accosted her. Instead of true love Henry got the cold shoulder and he definitely seems to have taken umbrage as a consequence.  The new year’s gift in question were some expensive furs.  An indication of Henry’s frame of mind is seen in the fact that he took the gift away with him when he left. He said to Thomas Cromwell that he “liked her not.”  He wanted to get out of the marriage and gave Thomas instructions to see that Anne didn’t become wife number four but it was not to be – on January 6th 1540 Henry VIII married Anne of Cleves at Greenwich.

annecleeves emblemThomas found himself thrown to the wolves and Anne  who selected for her motto the phrase “God send me well to keep” was pleased to escape her marriage with a new title of King’s Sister and a number of estates including Hever Castle. Meanwhile the duke of Norfolk took the opportunity to introduce Henry to his young niece Katherine Howard.

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