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Mourning in the 17th century

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Mary Vere (née Tracy), Lady Vere
by Frederick Hendrik van Hove
line engraving, circa 1683
NPG D28117. Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery

I know it’s not the most cheery topic for a post! However, by the beginning of the seventeenth century in England funeral practices and mourning had undergone a change thanks to the Protestant reformation. Purgatory no longer existed so it wasn’t necessary to make provision for prayer and masses to expedite the process. It led to a simplification of the process although society still had its own requirements.

When Lady Mary Vere was unexpectedly widowed in May 1635 she would have had to dressed in black as would her daughters. They weren’t permitted to wear anything bright or even shiny. Gradually they could have moved to half mourning which involved greys and mauves. Lady Mary was also expected to provide cloths with the chief mourners at her husband’s funeral as well as for the servants. This could have been anything from gowns and cloaks to gloves, scarves and armbands – although there would have been nothing elaborate or ostentatious. The key for Lady Mary, a Presbyterian, was that she would not have used any practices or rituals that had links to Catholicism. The clothing was more about showing proper respect. The funeral itself, which took place at Westminster Abbey, is likely to have been a quiet affair without even the tolling of a bell to mark the baron’s passing. Unlike his brother he has no effigy or marker.

Lord Horace Vere’s funeral was plain and relatively brief. Lady Mary’s restraint would have been a reminder of the virtue of simplicity and an external illustration of her pious submission to God’s will – no space for wailing and gnashing of teeth. It was the duty of her friends and family to provide practial support and quiet sorrow…all in all very solemn. Horace, a godly man, was seen as having made his final journey to Heaven. It is possible that a costly effigy would have smacked of vanity – the family would have wanted to focus on Horace’s soul.

By the time news travelled across the country, the funeral would have already taken place. Support in that case would take the form of a letter of condolence focusing on theological support for the widow and while they might wear sober clothing, or even be in receipt of a mourning ring left to them in the will of the person who died, the whole e process would be navigated with restraint.

Inevitably it is through memoirs that much of this information comes to light. Some of you will recall the work of Alice Thornton who lived in Yorkshire during the 17th century – her life was not without drama including a marriage after the English Civil War to a Parliamentarian to protect the family and its land – however her writing also reflects the need for quiet acceptance of God’s will.

John Evleyn’s journal reflected the writer’s piety and his own grief at the loss of his children. He also recorded court funerals as did Samuel Pepys whose diary reflects the writers interest in fashion! The sobriety of the Commonwealth Period would have met with Lady Mary Vere’s approval rather better than the grand displays that followed the Restoration.

Eleanor of England, Queen of Castile and Toledo

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By Anonymous – Alfonso VIII el Noble, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7174830

Eleanor was born in 1161 and her marriage had some long lasting consequences in terms of diplomatic, dynastic and cultural influences.

She was Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine’s second daughter. Her elder sister, Matilda, was five years older than her. When she was 3-years-old she was joined in her nursery by a sister Joanna and in 1166 by her youngest brother – John. We’ll leave her brawling older brothers to one side on this occasion.

When she was 3-years-old her father arranged a marriage for her to Frederick V, who was the eldest son of the Holy Roman Emperor and still an infant. However the Duke of Swabia died before the marriage could go ahead. Instead, a marriage was arranged to King Alfonso VIII of Castile who was 7-years-old. Eleanor was still only 9-years-old but it secured Aquitaine’s border. For Alfonso it meant that his father-in-law would be an ally against the king of Navarre. The marriage did not take place until Eleanor was 12-years-old. The couple would go on to have twelve children of whom seven survived infancy. It would be Eleanor who introduced the culture of Aquitaine to her adopted home and who acted as ambassador between her husband and her brothers.

The young bride would meet with her mother again when Eleanor of Aquitaine came to collect her granddaughter, Urraca, in 1200, when it was proposed that she should marry Prince Louis of France. Eleanor of Aquitaine spent two months at her daughter’s court and when she left Castile she took another of her granddaughters, Blanca, as Louis’s intended bride rather than Urraca. Blanche as she would be known became Louis’ queen and the mother of King Louis IX of France while Urraca would become Queen of Portugal.

Relations between Alfonso and Henry were not always so cordial. In 1200, or thereabouts, Alfonso tried to claim Gascony as part of Eleanor’s dowry. In 1205 he even invaded the territory in her name. Historians agree that it is highly unlikely that Henry II would have granted such an important territory to his daughter. By then Eleanor’s brother, John, was on the throne and it was Eleanor who was sent to visit her brother resulting in a peace accord. The argument was never truly settled because her grandson Alfonso X of Castile claimed the duchy stating that the dowry had never been paid in full.

Eleanor was clearly her mother’s daughter, holding much territory throughout her husband’s kingdom and ruling them in her own right or on behalf of her husband. In 1204, when Alfonso made his will, he stipulated that she was to be their eldest son’s regent and his executor. He died in October 1214. Unfortunately Eleanor died only 26 days after her husband and was buried beside him at Burgos.

And she understood the importance of making strategic marriage alliances. It was she who helped make the match between her daughter Berengaria and Alfonso IX of Leon even though the union was later dissolved on grounds of consanguinity. Berengaria, who was Eleanor of Castile’s grandmother, would become her bother’s regent and eventually Queen of Castile in her own right when her brother, Henry I, was killed by a falling roof tile. She abdicated soon after becoming queen, in favour of her son who became Ferdinand III.

And of course – for those of you who are keeping track it means that Eleanor of Castile and Edward I were related within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity along yet another line of the family tree. They were first cousins several times removed and shared kinship inside a web of royal families – Angevin, Capetian and Iberian.

Cockerill, Sara. Eleanor of Castile: The Shadow Queen

Swadlincote Festival of Words

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Looking forward to being a guest at the Swadlincote Festival of Words this Saturday. Tickets still available.

https://www.swadlincotefestivalofwords.co.uk/programme#row-f-anM5LsyR

Ripon Cathedral

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My first attempt at intaglio printing using the inside of a tetra pack – I’m very happy with it! The gothic west front – as typified by its narrow lancet windows- is considered one of the best of its kind in the country.

Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke – the paradox of early modern women

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I’ve encountered Mary Sidney on several occasions in the past few years. She was the sister of Sir Philip Sidney, their mother was born Mary Dudley, the sister of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Mary, the wife of Sir Henry Sidney, was one of Queen Elizabeth I’s favourite ladies. Sir Henry who was raised alongside Prince Edward, his father being the prince’s chamberlain and his mother the prince’s governess. It’s easy to see how the pair were married to one another – the Sidneys were already close to Edward VI and Dudley, who later became the Duke of Northumberland, wanted to ensure their support.

Henry and May had seven children. Mary was the fifth child, born in 1561. Her eldest sister, Margaret, died while she was still a toddler in 1558. Elizabeth died when Mary was just six, while Ambrosia who was only a year older than Mary died in 1575. Mary’s youngest brother, Thomas, also died at a young age.

All of them were raised at Penshurst in Kent, at Ludlow Castle in Wales and Ticknell Palace near Bewdley. They also travelled to Dublin. It was while they were there that Elizabeth died. When Mary was three, her 10-year-old brother, Philip, was sent to Shrewsbury School where he remained for the next four years before continuing his education at Oxford University. Having finished his studies there, Philip was granted a licence to travel for two years in order to improve his knowledge of foreign language.

For Mary education, of the humanist kind enjoyed by Elizabeth I, meant a proficiency in French and Italian. She was also taught Latin, music and needlework. They were essential skills for a young woman who might find herself in Elizabeth’s court.

By the time Philip returned home in 1575, following Ambrosia’s death, Mary and her mother were residing at Elizabeth’s court. It was an opportunity for her to acquire court polish and for her parents to make her a good match. The good offices of the queen and of the Earl of Leicester gave the Sidneys an advantage in securing a union with the Herbert family in 1577. It was another factor in making a daughter’s education arrangements. It was essential that a young woman should meet the expectations of the family into which she might marry. Manners and conduct were consequently an important part of education. Girls were expected to be respectful and modest.

After her marriage to Henry Herbert, 2nd Earl of Pembroke (becoming his third wife) who was more than two decades older than her, she was responsible for the good management of his estates as well as providing him with a family of four children. Much of her surviving writing is business correspondence. It’s a reminder that while women were regarded as having roles within the private rather than pubic sphere, that as representatives of their husbands, their influence could be wide ranging. Somehow, as well as entertaining the queen, running a household and managing her husband’s estates, she managed to find time to have a chemistry laboratory at Wilton House where she developed medicines and invisible ink.

More important, she created the Wilton Circle of poets that included the likes of Edmund Spenser and Ben Johnson. She would receive more dedications than any other woman of non royal status. And she wrote her own work -unusual in publishing under her own name- but avoiding criticism by focusing on religion, translations, elegies and works of praise. It helped that her that she was the sister of Sir Philip Sidney. Her story of patronage began after his death when she encouraged authors to publish works written in his praise. It seems that she wrote throughout her life thereafter but most of what exists today dates from the 1590s. it is likely that much of what she wrote has been lost to history. There was a fire at Wilton during the seventeenth century and also at Baynard’s Castle which was another of her homes.

In short, Mary Sidney is a perfect example of the paradox that many early modern women became. On one hand they were expected to be obedient wives, interested in the domestic and the religious but on the other they were business women, patrons of the arts and like Mary, on occasion, able to demonstrate their intellect and achieve remarkable things.

Scroggling Holly

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https://olddesignshop.com/2013/11/stetcher-holly-and-berries-free-christmas-image/

Apparently if you go searching for holly in hedgerows at this time of the year, at least in Yorkshire, then you’re scroggling it. I’ve never heard the expression before but in Haworth it’s a definite thing.

Mind you, it turns out that in some parts of Yorkshire you might call holly ollins and its turns out that the modern word – holly- is an abbreviation of the older hollen or holen. In some places, again Yorkshire, the plant is also called hulm.

My rather wonderful Complete Language of Flowers states that holly brings luck, which is not entirely surprising as its also supposed to repel lightening, the evil eye and is protection against witchcraft. No wonder it grows in so many old gardens. And apparently if you attach a sprig to the bedpost it will bring sweet dreams. If of course, you’re into weather forecasting, an abundance of berries is supposed to herald a particularly harsh winter.

The first commercial Christmas card, printed in 1843, did not feature holly but it swiftly became a popular image for festive greetings cards and Edith Holden’s diary dating from 1906, which became famous when it was published in 1977, the plant and its glossy red berries.

So – if you’re off scroggling – sweet dreams and keep warm!

Katherine Swynford – fact and fiction.

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Image generated by AI

I know I’ve posted about Katherine Swynford before- she even features in a chapter of Medieval Royal Mistresses. However, Kathrine by Anya Seton is one of my favourite historical novels, so the chances of me not writing about her again were slim. The novel dates from 1954 and has stood the test of time.

Katherine de Roet, the daughter of a minor Flemish knight, and her sister Philippa begin the tale as part of Philippa of Hainault’s household. It’s likely that their father came to England with the queen when she married Edward III. Philippa is married to Geoffrey Chaucer while Katherine is married to Sir Hugh Swynford, an impoverished knight from Lincolnshire.  Seton, who is writing a novel, changes Katherine’s age to make her slightly older than she probably was in fact. What was acceptable in the fourteenth century is not something that is acceptable in modern times. A novelist can change ages – a historian has to provide the facts, and in Katherine’s case this involves potential ages and analysis of known facts both for Katherine and of known medieval averages to arrive at the most likely year for her birth and her marriage.

Swynford isn’t necessarily the most sympathetic of characters and that’s where fact and fiction part company. Quite simply we know very little about him – https://thehistoryjar.com/2017/07/14/sir-hugh-swynford/ or his relationship with Katherine. The historical record, unsurprisingly, is a blank. A novelist can fill in the blank – a historian cannot.

After Hugh’s death – and that’s where papal dispensations and account rolls provide us with historical evidence, Katherine, who is the governess to John of Gaunt’s daughters, begins an affair with the duke – although who started what is a matter of speculation rather than fact. Evidence of their relationship, explored in the non fiction work by Alison Weir, including the birth of four children, gifts, visits, monastic chronicles, court records, and the Peasant’s Revolt provide primary source evidence. The fact that Katherine married John in 1396 and that their children were subsequently legitimised provides a paper trail of evidence that would otherwise have been lacking. What makes Katherine remarkable, is that history knows as much about her as it does.

And just so we’re clear – Seton is able to develop the story of Katherine of John’s relationship because she is writing a work of fiction. The research is impeccable but while Alison Weir can only write about what the evidence provides, Seton can enhance the plot line; provide a narrative for what happened to Katherine while she was absent from the existing historical record; and use dialogue to develop character. Both writers make sound use of the sources and tell Katherine’s story but Seton does not have to rely on verifiable facts. A good historical novelist like Anya Seton does extensive research before putting pen to paper but no one should be quoting anything in a novel as historic fact, no matter how good it might be.

My favourite verifiable, historical fact is that on Valentine’s Day 1382, Gaunt issued Katherine with a legal document which said that neither of them owed each other anything. It was a formal renunciation of property rights. The quitclaim, to give the document its correct name, ended their ten year old affair. No one could now take away from Katherine anything that the duke had given to her. She was independent and safe. It’s an unusual Valentine – but John of Gaunt was a hated figure at this time. The Peasant’s Revolt of the previous year had seen his London residence at The Savoy burned to the ground. The Church was attacking him because of the protection he offered to John Wycliffe. Monastic chroniclers attacked Katherine in order to damage the duke. There was also the small matter of Gaunt’s second wife, Constanza of Castile and Gaunt’s desire to win himself a crown of his own.

And if you like to compare writers – Anne O’Brien’s The Scandalous Duchess is also about Katherine Swynford.

Getting back to grips with the History Jar and Preparing Tudor Kings…

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It’s been a busy year and I’m only slightly over half way through it. Preparing the Tudor Kings and Princes to Rule was published at the beginning of the year but since then I’ve submitted the Little History of Nottinghamshire and an A-Z of Colchester. I worked on them across 2024 and 2025. All that remains is for me to check my footnotes for Preparing Stuart Kings and Princesses to Rule and submit it by the beginning of September. You can perhaps see why I’ve gone quiet on the History Jar front for a while.

However, I have a new planner; my bookcase is being tidied up before it finally collapses; and I have a new project to get my teeth into. The Right Little Madam, who isn’t so little these days, has an essay which requires her to compare a work of historical fiction with a non fiction text set in the same time period. She asked me if I could think of any books….oh dear…it was perhaps a question that needed rephrasing. In any event, she’s gone away happy with two books and some suggested additional reading/listening including Hilary Mantel’s 2017 Reith Lectures which are available via I-player.

Meanwhile, we will begin with the Norman Conquest and William’s wife, Matilda tomorrow and then progress from there. I met Joanna Barnden who writes as Joanna Courtney when she came to give a talk at a nearby village, so I will be looking at The Conquerors Queen. It will be good to get back into a routine. Thank you for your patience.

Bayeux stitch – laying and couching with wool thread.

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It’s also called laid and couched work and it was something I looked at when exploring the development of Opus Anglicanum. I have grown to like the stitch very much.No thread is wasted on the back of the design unlike satin stitch which uses as much thread on the back as the front. I’m less keen on the wool which unravels if you pull it too hard – though that might have more to do with me than the wool.

The most famous example of this type of work is the Bayeux Tapestry, hence the name but it was used for household items and to decorate clothes. My example, is taken from Tanya Bentham – and if you check you will notice that I have not yet embroidered little scales made from stitched circles on the dragon’s leg – mainly because it turns out I’m not good at circles. I also have some pressing to do- so I’d probably be lucky to be allowed to sweep the floor in a medieval embroidery workshop. However, I’ve enjoyed doing it and am pleased with the end product.

With the passage of time different kinds of stitches became popular. Crewel work also uses wool threads but it is much simpler than the intricate style of Opus Anglicanum. As with everything, it goes through phases of popularity. I rather like this modern take on crewel work -designed by Nichola Jarvis. It took a lot less time to complete that the laid and couched work although it potentially looks as though it should have taken longer… and yes this one needs pressing as well.

And that leads me to Beverley Minster. When I visited last year there was a set of embroidered panels on display telling the story of St John of Beverley. I rather liked the combination of fabric and stitched patterns.